#dayne needs to shut up

[thefloatingwriter]

why am i in mimmer brainrot right now. like did they ever speak to each other? no but they’re in love, they told me themselves.

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (destiny)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Paring: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the path

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: This is the last part of the book I: of gods and men. I'm not sure when I will start posting the book II: children of valyria (or if it will be posted here at all). I will be leaving this part of the schedule open for something else, for now.

Leto moved swiftly through the larger passageway, following the path Vexiae had taken. The walls were slick and uneven, but the sound of chaos ahead pushed him forward. He could hear the dragon’s deep growls and the terrified shouts of Harkonnen soldiers, followed by the unmistakable sounds of metal clashing and flesh being torn apart.

As he approached, the passage widened into a chamber where the remnants of a Harkonnen squad were scattered in pieces. Vexiae was a blur of red scales and fury, her claws slashing through the soldiers who dared to stand in her way. Blood sprayed across the rocky floor as she decimated the squad, her wrath unstoppable. Her massive form twisted and lashed out with terrifying precision, leaving none alive.

Leto stopped in his tracks, watching in awe and horror as Vexiae crawled up the walls of the chamber, disappearing into another passageway high above. Her roar echoed through the cavern, but Leto knew he couldn’t follow her any further. She was too far ahead now, and the path she had taken was one he couldn’t climb.

Breathing heavily, Leto crouched behind a large rock, listening intently. The soldiers were no longer a threat, but something caught his attention—the faint sound of voices from a nearby tunnel. His pulse quickened as he strained to hear, focusing on the muffled conversation.

"...keep the Targaryen girl down there," one soldier said, his voice anxious. "Baron’s orders. No one goes near her except Feyd-Rautha."

"She’s more trouble than she’s worth," another voice muttered. "Should’ve killed her when we had the chance."

Leto clenched his fists, anger surging through him. So, you were being held deeper in the caverns, under the watch of Feyd-Rautha himself. His teeth ground together as he thought of what they might be doing to you. The thought of you, bound and hurt, filled him with fury. He couldn’t allow this to continue any longer.

With a quiet determination, Leto moved toward the tunnel where the voices had come from. He had the information he needed now—he knew where you were. All that was left was to get to you before Feyd-Rautha carried out whatever twisted plans he had in mind.

You were close, and Leto swore to himself that he wouldn’t leave without you.

Feyd-Rautha stormed into your cell, his face twisted in fury. His footsteps echoed ominously against the cold stone floor, and the door slammed shut behind him with a metallic clang. His eyes blazed with anger, his frustration barely contained as he paced back and forth like a predator searching for a victim.

"You think this is funny?" he growled, turning to face you. "Your dragon is loose, tearing through my men, destroying everything we’ve built here."

You leaned against the rough stone wall, bruised and aching, but you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. "I warned you. Dragons aren’t pets. They don’t take orders from lesser men like you."

His eyes narrowed at your words, and you saw the flash of hatred cross his face. In two quick strides, he was standing over you, his hand raised. The sting of his slap landed hard across your cheek, snapping your head to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth but didn’t flinch.

"You insolent bitch," Feyd hissed. "I could have killed you before. But the Baron... he still has use for you."

You slowly turned your head to face him, your gaze defiant. "Do your worst, Feyd. You’ll never control Vexiae. Dragons don’t bow to cowards who hide behind chains and whips."

Feyd’s lip curled into a snarl, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. "You think you’re untouchable, don’t you? You think just because that beast is out there, you’re safe?"

His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "I don’t need your dragon to break you. I’ll make you wish you’d never crossed me."

You stared into his eyes, refusing to show fear. "I’ll never obey you. And you’ll never break me."

His grip tightened painfully, and he slammed your head back against the wall. "We’ll see about that. If you don’t call off that dragon, I’ll make sure you watch as I torture her, as I burn your precious Vexiae alive, piece by piece."

You clenched your jaw, the pain sharp but nothing compared to the rage building inside you. "Vexiae will never bow to you. And neither will I."

Feyd’s face darkened with fury. He released your hair and slapped you again, harder this time, sending a sharp jolt of pain through your face. "You will learn, Daenys. One way or another, you will learn."

He stepped back, breathing heavily as he tried to regain control of himself. His hand twitched as if he was tempted to strike you again, but he held back, a cruel smile creeping onto his lips instead. "No matter. Soon enough, you’ll beg me to stop. And when you do, I’ll have everything I need."

You glared at him, hatred burning in your eyes. "You’ll never break me, Feyd. You’re a coward. Nothing more."

Feyd’s smile faded, and the cold, calculating look returned to his eyes. "We’ll see how brave you are when you have nothing left." He turned sharply and stormed out of the cell, leaving you bound and alone.

The door slammed shut behind him, the echo of his threats hanging in the air, but you weren’t afraid. Vexiae was still out there, and you could feel her presence, her rage mirroring your own. You wouldn’t give in to Feyd-Rautha’s cruelty. You would fight, just as your dragon was fighting for you. And somehow, you would survive this.

Leto was out there. You believed that. He would come for you. And together, you would make the Harkonnens pay.

Leto crouched in the shadows of a narrow passage, watching as Feyd-Rautha stormed out of one of the adjacent hallways, his face twisted in anger. The Harkonnen heir was furious, barking orders to the guards and soldiers who scrambled around him. His words were clear: recapture the dragon, by any means necessary.

"You idiots! I want that beast chained down now!" Feyd snarled, shoving one of his men aside. "Find it before it tears this place apart!"

Leto’s heart pounded in his chest as he listened. Vexiae was still out there, still causing chaos. But you were nowhere to be seen. His stomach clenched as he imagined what Feyd had done to you, what he was planning.

But there was no time to dwell on the possibilities. Leto knew that this was his moment. He needed to get closer, to find the holding cells where you were being kept. He could see the group of guards stationed near a side corridor, heavily armed and alert, likely guarding the cells Feyd had just left.

A plan quickly formed in his mind. If he wanted to get to you, he couldn’t sneak past them. He needed to cause a distraction, something that would throw them off completely. And there was only one thing that would leave these Harkonnen soldiers more stunned than anything else: the sight of the Atreides Duke walking into their base alone.

With a deep breath, Leto stepped out of the shadows, his posture casual but deliberate. His eyes flicked toward the guards, and a mocking smile tugged at his lips. He had to play this right. They needed to see him as vulnerable—alone and defeated.

"Well, well," Leto called out, his voice echoing through the corridor. "It seems I’ve wandered a bit too far, hasn’t it? Thought I’d come see what all the fuss was about."

The guards froze, their eyes widening in shock as they recognized him. One of them barked out a curse, immediately raising his weapon. "The Duke! How did you—"

Leto raised his hands in mock surrender, taking a few slow steps toward them. "Easy now. No need to get all excited. It’s just me, after all."

The confusion was clear on their faces, and that was exactly what Leto wanted. They hadn’t expected to see the Duke of Atreides here, alone, in the heart of their hidden base. They had no idea what to make of it.

"What are you doing here, Atreides?" one of the guards growled, his weapon still trained on Leto. "Where are your men?"

Leto smirked, maintaining his calm demeanor. "Oh, they’re around. But I figured I’d come alone to make things easier. You know, personal surrender and all that. Thought it’d be the polite thing to do."

The guards exchanged glances, uncertain. One of them reached for his comm device, clearly intending to call for reinforcements. Leto’s sharp gaze caught the movement, and he knew he had to act quickly before they realized this was no surrender at all.

"You want to know something interesting?" Leto said, stepping closer as if he was about to divulge a secret. "You might want to keep an eye on that comm device."

The guard paused, confused, as he glanced down at the device in his hand. That was the opening Leto needed.

In a flash, Leto lunged forward, grabbing the guard’s wrist and twisting it sharply. The weapon clattered to the ground as the guard yelped in pain. Before the others could react, Leto spun the guard around, using him as a shield, and swiftly disarmed another.

Chaos erupted as the remaining guards scrambled to respond, but Leto was faster. He took down the second guard with a swift punch to the throat, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Now armed, Leto aimed the stolen weapon at the remaining guards, his expression deadly serious. "I suggest you tell me where the holding cells are. Now."

The guards hesitated, clearly realizing they were outmatched. One of them, trembling, pointed toward the corridor Feyd had emerged from. "Down that hall... second left. That’s where she is."

Leto’s heart raced, and without another word, he knocked the guard unconscious and began his way down the corridor toward you. His mind was focused, sharp. 

Gurney adjusted the straps on his stillsuit as the desert winds kicked up the sand around him. His eyes scanned the horizon, narrowing as he noticed the sudden shift in the Harkonnen troops’ movements. They were becoming erratic, almost desperate. Something had changed.

His hand went to the comm link at his side, and he tuned it to Duncan’s frequency. "Idaho," Gurney called into the device, his voice steady despite the rising tension. "You seeing what I’m seeing?"

A crackle of static buzzed in his ear before Duncan’s voice came through. "Yeah, Gurney. Harkonnen attacks are getting sloppy, like they’re panicking. We haven’t seen this kind of behavior from them before."

Gurney nodded to himself, watching as Atreides forces managed to repel another disorganized assault from the Harkonnens. "They’re desperate. Whatever’s happening on their end, it’s big. You think it’s got something to do with Leto and the operation in the caverns?"

"Could be," Duncan replied after a moment, his tone thoughtful. "Or maybe they know something we don’t. Have you heard anything from the Duke?"

"Not yet." Gurney glanced down at his comm again, a wave of unease creeping up his spine. "I haven’t been able to raise him. He’s off comms for now."

The desert winds howled louder as another Harkonnen skirmish group charged toward them. Gurney’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his weapon, but his mind remained focused on the bigger picture. "We need to push them back, Idaho. I’m thinking whatever’s got them so riled up, it’s connected to what’s happening in the caverns."

Duncan’s voice crackled back over the comm, decisive. "Agreed. We’ll hold our ground here, but we need to stay sharp. If they’re this frantic, they might try something reckless."

"Understood," Gurney replied, his gaze hardening. "Keep me posted. I’ll try to get through to the Duke again. Gurney out."

He cut the comm link and turned back to the Atreides troops under his command. "Form up!" he barked, his voice cutting through the desert noise. "Stay sharp and keep pushing them back! Something’s got these Harkonnens rattled, and we’re going to make sure they keep running."

The soldiers around him tightened their formation, readying themselves for the next wave. Gurney’s mind, however, remained on Leto and Daenys. Whatever was happening in the caverns was the key to this sudden change in the Harkonnen strategy, and until he knew more, he would fight like hell to protect the Duke’s interests and ensure their survival.

Leto hurried down the corridor, his pulse quickening with each step. The guard’s directions echoed in his mind—down the hall, second left. He could feel his heart pounding, not from the exertion, but from the thought of finding you, hoping you were still alive, hoping Feyd-Rautha hadn’t gone too far. His breath was ragged, the weight of his weapon steady in his hands as he rounded the corner.

The holding cells came into view, a heavy metal door reinforced with a locking mechanism controlled by a panel on the wall. Leto didn’t hesitate. His eyes quickly scanned the area for any remaining guards. There were none in sight, and the narrow hallway felt eerily quiet.

His gaze fell on the control panel beside the door. It was complicated, no doubt designed to prevent any unwanted visitors from freeing the prisoners inside. But Leto had no time for finesse. His hand reached for the hilt of his blade, and with a swift motion, he drove the weapon into the panel’s circuitry. Sparks flew as the panel sputtered, the lights flickering on the door’s control interface.

He slammed his fist against the damaged panel for good measure, and the door hissed as its internal mechanisms unlocked. The metal barrier slowly creaked open, revealing the small, dimly lit room beyond.

And there you were.

You were slumped against the wall, bound at the wrists, your head hanging low as if you were barely conscious. Bruises marred your skin, evidence of the torture Feyd-Rautha had inflicted on you, but your chest still rose and fell with shallow breaths. You were alive.

Relief washed over Leto like a tidal wave, and he rushed to your side. "Daenys..." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

At the sound of his voice, your head lifted weakly, and your eyes fluttered open. When you saw him, there was a flash of recognition, and something else—relief, hope.

"Leto..." you rasped, your voice barely audible.

Without wasting another moment, Leto knelt beside you, his hands moving to untie the bonds that held you captive. His touch was gentle but urgent, his eyes searching your face for any sign of how badly you’d been hurt.

"Hold on," he said, his voice low but filled with determination. "I’m getting you out of here."

The ropes fell away, and as soon as your hands were free, you slumped forward, but Leto caught you, pulling you close to him. He could feel how weak you were, your body trembling from the pain and exhaustion, but there was still a fire in your eyes—a stubborn refusal to give in, the same strength that had drawn him to you in the first place.

"You came for me," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but the gratitude in your tone was unmistakable.

Leto's grip tightened as he helped you to your feet, his arm steadying you as you swayed. "Of course I did. I told you I’d never let them take you from me."

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locking with yours for a moment, and in that shared look, a silent understanding passed between you. There would be time for more later, but now, you needed to get out of here.

"Can you walk?" Leto asked, his voice soft but urgent.

You nodded, though your legs were shaky, the weight of your injuries evident in every strained movement. "I’ll manage."

Leto looped his arm around your waist, helping you find your balance. "Good. We don’t have much time."

As the two of you moved toward the door, Leto cast one last glance around the small cell, making sure nothing had been left behind.

With you leaning on him for support, Leto led the way into the hallway, his weapon ready, his mind already calculating the best way out. He wasn’t leaving without you, and now that you were free, nothing—no one—would stop him from getting you both out of this hellhole.

Feyd-Rautha had made a grave mistake by taking you. Now, Leto would make sure he paid for it.

Leto guided you carefully through the narrow passageway, his hand firmly on your waist, supporting you as you moved through the dimly lit cavern. The adrenaline of the escape still pulsed through his veins, but now that he had found you, now that you were together again, a sense of relief washed over him. He led you into a secluded area between the cavern walls, a temporary safe space hidden from the Harkonnen troops still scouring the caves.

Once inside, he helped you sit down on a smooth rock formation, his gaze filled with concern as he crouched down next to you. The silence of the cavern surrounded you both, offering a momentary reprieve from the chaos outside.

"Are you alright?" Leto asked softly, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was gentle, but his eyes searched your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. "They didn’t—hurt you too much?"

You managed a tired smile, even though your body still ached from the ordeal. "I’ve been through worse, believe me," you whispered, though the reassurance in your tone didn’t entirely mask the exhaustion in your voice.

Leto’s expression softened, and without thinking, he leaned in and kissed you gently. It was a kiss filled with relief, with the gratitude of having found you alive and whole. His lips lingered on yours for a moment longer than intended, as if savoring the fact that you were here, with him, after everything.

When he pulled back, his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "I thought I’d lost you," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "When I heard what they’d done—when I couldn’t find you—I was ready to tear this whole place apart to get you back."

Your heart ached at his words, and you reached up to touch his hand, grounding him with your presence. "I knew you would come for me," you whispered, your voice laced with a quiet confidence. "I never doubted it."

The corners of Leto’s mouth lifted slightly, a trace of a smile forming. He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a brief moment of peace in this madness. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You shook your head, your fingers tightening around his hand. "Don’t say that. We’re in this together."

For a few stolen moments, the world outside the cavern didn’t exist. It was just the two of you, safe in each other’s arms, letting the affection and love you shared provide a balm to the horrors of the battle still raging on.

Leto’s arms encircled you, pulling you close as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You felt the weight of his exhaustion too, the toll that this war and these battles had taken on him. You stroked his hair gently, allowing him this rare vulnerability in your presence.

But as much as you wanted to stay in this moment, you both knew it couldn’t last.

Leto reluctantly pulled back, his eyes locking with yours. "We need to keep moving," he said, though his voice was laced with hesitation, not wanting to leave this brief respite. "We have to get you out of here before Feyd-Rautha or his men find us."

You nodded in agreement, though your hand lingered in his. "I’m ready when you are," you replied softly, your eyes never leaving his.

For one last moment, Leto leaned in, kissing you again—this time with a fierce, protective passion. Then, he stood and offered you his hand, helping you to your feet.

"We’ll make it out of here," he promised, his voice resolute as he took your hand firmly in his. "I swear it."

Leto led you carefully through the winding tunnels, his grip firm on your hand as you both moved toward the cavern hangars. The sounds of engines echoed faintly, and Leto’s sharp eyes spotted the last of the Harkonnen Ornithopters preparing to take off. Relief was within reach—an escape. But before either of you could make a move, a cold, mocking voice echoed through the chamber.

“Well, well,” Feyd-Rautha’s voice slithered through the darkness as he stepped out from the shadows, flanked by his men. "Look who we have here. The noble Duke of Atreides himself."

Leto’s posture stiffened, and his grip on your hand tightened. He moved slightly in front of you, shielding you from Feyd-Rautha’s predatory gaze. His expression was calm, but the tension in his muscles told you he was ready for whatever was about to unfold.

"Here I am," Leto said, his voice steady, full of quiet resolve. "Here I remain."

Feyd-Rautha chuckled darkly, circling slightly as his men fanned out around you both, cutting off any potential escape routes. His eyes glinted with malicious glee, like a predator who had finally cornered his prey. "It seems you’ve made a habit of surviving things you shouldn’t have, Duke," he said, his lips curling into a sneer. "But this time, there’s no dragon to save you. Just you and me, and a lot of pain."

Leto stood tall, his eyes locked on Feyd’s. "I’ve faced worse than you, Harkonnen."

Feyd’s sneer deepened. "Then let’s see how well you fare with me." He raised his voice, loud enough for everyone in the cavern to hear. "Kanly!" Feyd declared, invoking the ancient feud between their Houses. He was issuing an official challenge—a duel, one that would determine the fate of both men. "It’s time for you to die, Duke. This ends now."

You felt your heart drop as Feyd-Rautha called for the duel. This wasn’t just a fight; it was a death sentence if Leto lost. But the look on Leto’s face was one of calm acceptance, as if he had been expecting this confrontation all along.

Leto turned slightly toward you, his hand brushing yours gently. His eyes softened for a brief moment, a silent exchange passing between you. You knew he wouldn’t back down. Not now. Not ever.

"I’ll handle this," he said quietly to you, his voice full of conviction. "Stay back. I won’t let him touch you."

You nodded, though the fear for him twisted in your stomach. You trusted him, but Feyd-Rautha was unpredictable, dangerous. Still, you took a step back, giving Leto the space he needed, but ready to act if things went wrong.

Feyd smirked, already moving to draw his blade. "Come then, Duke. Let’s finish this once and for all."

Leto’s expression remained stoic as he unsheathed his own blade, a curved, finely made weapon gifted to him by House Targaryen—a blade forged with Valyrian steel. He took a fighting stance, and you could see the measured determination in every movement.

The two men began circling each other, their eyes locked in a battle of wills before the first strike was even thrown.

Feyd-Rautha lunged forward, his blade flashing in the dim light, but Leto was faster, sidestepping the blow and delivering a counterstrike that caught Feyd off guard. The two clashed, steel meeting steel with a sharp ring, echoing through the cavern.

Feyd was quick, vicious, but Leto was precise. Every movement was calculated, controlled, while Feyd fought with fury and aggression. Their blades danced in a deadly rhythm, neither giving ground easily. You watched, heart pounding, as Leto fought with everything he had, never faltering, never backing down.

"You’re slower than I expected," Feyd taunted, his blade scraping against Leto’s. "All that time spent chasing dragons made you soft, Duke."

Leto didn’t respond, his focus entirely on the fight, every fiber of his being centered on bringing this to an end. Feyd lunged again, but this time Leto anticipated the move, sidestepping just enough to deliver a powerful strike that sent Feyd stumbling back.

Blood trickled from a cut on Feyd’s arm, and his sneer faded into a scowl of rage. He attacked again, more erratically this time, but Leto remained calm, deflecting each strike with measured precision.

You could see the tides turning, the careful strategy Leto had employed starting to wear down his opponent. Feyd was growing desperate, his attacks more reckless, while Leto continued to fight with a quiet, deadly grace.

And then, in a swift, fluid movement, Leto disarmed Feyd, sending the Harkonnen blade clattering to the ground. Feyd staggered back, eyes wide with shock and rage, but Leto didn’t hesitate. He held his blade to Feyd’s throat, the point pressing against the skin.

"It’s over," Leto said, his voice low and firm. "Yield."

Feyd’s chest heaved with fury, but he knew he had lost. There was no escape now.

For a brief moment, it seemed as though Feyd would concede, but then his eyes flickered with something darker, more dangerous. You saw it too, and your body shivered. Something wasn’t right.

But before either of you could react, Feyd-Rautha grinned, a sick, twisted grin. "It’s never over, Atreides," he spat, his hand darting toward something hidden in his sleeve.

"Leto!" you shouted, warning him just in time.

Leto saw the movement and reacted instinctively, twisting Feyd’s arm and knocking the hidden weapon—a small, poisoned blade—out of his grasp. With one final strike, Leto incapacitated him, sending Feyd crumpling to the ground, unconscious but alive.

Leto exhaled, stepping back, his chest rising and falling with the effort of the fight. He looked back at you, and you rushed forward, relief flooding your veins as you met his gaze.

"It’s over," he said again, this time to you, his voice softer.

You nodded, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. "For now," you replied quietly.

Feyd's men hesitated, uncertainty flickering across their faces as they took in the sight of their fallen leader. They exchanged nervous glances, their hands tightening on their weapons, but none made a move toward you or Leto. 

Then, with a deafening roar, Vexiae appeared.

The massive dragon burst into the chamber from the upper passage, her enormous wings folding back as she descended, her amber eyes glowing with fury. The ground shook beneath her weight as she landed, her sharp talons digging into the rock, and her head lowered, the primal growl rumbling deep from her throat. The Harkonnen soldiers scattered in terror, retreating from the sight of the enraged beast.

With one swift motion, Vexiae lashed out, her claws tearing through the ranks of the soldiers as if they were nothing more than paper. The men screamed in panic, scrambling to get away, but it was too late. Vexiae's powerful jaws clamped down on the remaining guards, her wrath swift and brutal. The ground trembled beneath her, the very air vibrating with the ferocity of her attack.

You stepped forward, raising a hand as Vexiae let out another roar, preparing to finish off the remaining enemies. "Vexiae!" your voice rang out clear and steady, cutting through the chaos. The dragon paused, her head swiveling toward you, her eyes softening at your command. "It’s over now."

Vexiae let out a low growl, her fiery eyes locking with yours for a moment. She knew you were safe, and her protective instincts began to ebb. You stepped closer, your hand gently resting on her snout as you calmed her. "You’ve done enough," you whispered, stroking the scales along her jaw. "Go now. Leave. We’ll be fine."

The dragon huffed softly, her breath warm against your skin, and for a moment, she lingered, reluctant to leave your side. But after another reassuring glance, she spread her wings and lifted off, her massive frame rising above the ground with a grace that belied her size. The wind from her wings buffeted the cavern, sending dust and debris flying as she flew off into the open desert sky.

Leto watched in awe as Vexiae disappeared from view, the dragon’s majestic form silhouetted against the stars. "I’m starting to understand more every day why they call you dragonlords," he muttered, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

You smiled, though the weight of the moment still hung between you. "We should go before more of them arrive.

Leto nodded, his hand finding yours as you both turned toward the waiting Ornithopter at the far end of the hangar. The bulky Harkonnen craft was your only way out of this labyrinth of caverns and danger. You moved quickly, slipping into the cockpit as Leto took the pilot’s seat, the controls lighting up under his hands.

As the Ornithopter lifted off the ground, you both looked back toward the cavern. Just as you gained altitude, a low rumble echoed from deep within the tunnels. The ground shook violently, and cracks snaked up the walls of the cavern. You exchanged a glance with Leto, your heart pounding in your chest.

Vexiae’s massive frame had triggered something, perhaps weakening the already unstable structure of the caverns. The ceiling began to crumble, large chunks of rock falling into the chamber below. Within seconds, the entire Harkonnen base was collapsing in on itself, consumed by the very earth it had sought to hide within.

Leto pushed the throttle forward, the Ornithopter speeding up just as the last of the caverns caved in, sealing the base in a tomb of rock and dust. You looked down through the window as the base was swallowed whole, the remnants of Feyd’s forces buried beneath the weight of their defeat.

"That was close," Leto muttered, his grip tightening on the controls.

You leaned back in your seat, your eyes lingering on the horizon as the desert stretched out before you. "Too close," you agreed softly, your mind already turning to what would come next. But for now, you had escape

As the Ornithopter cut through the desert winds, Leto’s tense posture began to ease. His hands relaxed slightly on the controls, though his eyes remained sharp, scanning the horizon for any remaining threats. After a long moment of silence, he allowed himself a small, exhausted smile.

“We deserve a vacation after this,” he jested, turning his gaze toward you. “I promised to take you somewhere special on Caladan. It’s a hidden cove, not far from the capital. The water is the purest blue you’ve ever seen, and the cliffs are dotted with these little caves where we can hide away from the world for a while. No armies. No enemies. Just us.”

You smiled, the idea of it sounding like a dream after all you had been through. The thought of standing with Leto by the sea, with nothing but the waves to worry about, filled you with warmth. “That sounds lovely,” you replied, your voice soft in the hum of the Ornithopter. “I’ve heard much about Caladan’s beauty. I’d love to see this cove of yours.”

Leto glanced at you, his smile widening as he imagined the two of you on the cliffs, the troubles of the galaxy far behind. “We’ll make it happen,” he said. “After this is over, we’ll go. A real escape, just for us.”

You leaned back in your seat, your eyes flicking to the stars outside. “And maybe after that,” you added, “we could visit Albiron. I could show you the place where my people survived, where we rebuilt from nothing. It’s not like anything in the known universe. The jungles are thick, the air rich with minerals… and the sky, Leto. The sky burns red with life. You’d love it.”

Leto’s gaze softened, intrigued by your words. He’d heard of Albiron, of the hidden world where your House had rebuilt itself from the ashes of Valyria, but the idea of seeing it through your eyes stirred something in him. “Albiron,” he mused. “I’d like that. To see where your people found their strength again. And maybe even meet the rest of your dragons.”

You laughed softly at that, imagining Leto surrounded by the beasts you’d grown up with, and for a moment, the future felt bright again, even amidst the turmoil surrounding you both.

As the Ornithopter sailed smoothly through the air, you and Leto exchanged quiet glances, the shared promise of something beyond war and politics hanging between you like a beacon of hope. Caladan. Albiron. A future where both of your worlds could exist together, away from the Emperor, the Sisterhood, and the endless conflicts that had defined your lives.

You turned your gaze back out toward the endless desert below, knowing there were still battles to fight, but for now, there was a promise. One of peace. One of love. A future, if you could claim it together.

And that was worth fighting for.

Gurney stood on the ridge, watching as the Harkonnen Ornithopter cut through the sky, its silhouette unmistakable against the horizon. His hand tightened on the trigger of the plasma cannon, his instincts honed from years of battle urging him to take the shot. "Another one," he muttered, his jaw clenched. "They just don’t give up."

His team stood ready beside him, weapons trained on the incoming Ornithopter, their movements tense and precise. The Harkonnen forces had been relentless, and Gurney had no intention of letting another enemy vanguard slip through their defenses.

"Steady," he called to his men, preparing to give the order to fire.

Just as his finger twitched on the trigger, a crackle came over the comms. At first, it was garbled, indistinct, but then Gurney heard a voice he knew all too well.

“Gurney, hold fire! It’s us!”

Gurney’s heart skipped a beat. He blinked, his hand freezing over the controls as the realization hit him. “Leto?”

The comms crackled again, clearer this time. “It’s Leto, Gurney! It’s me and Daenys. Don’t fire!”

Gurney let out a deep breath, his relief almost palpable as he pulled his hand back from the trigger. “Damn it, Duke. I almost shot you out of the sky.”

From inside the Ornithopter, Leto allowed himself a half-amused smile despite the tension. “I figured as much when I saw you lining up for a shot.”

“Just doing my job,” Gurney replied, his tone lighter now but still edged with the heaviness of the past hours of battle. “We’ve been swatting these Harkonnen flies left and right. Didn’t expect to see you piloting one of their crafts.”

“Long story,” Leto said, his voice steady as he expertly guided the Ornithopter in for a landing, the sand kicking up in small storms beneath the wings. “But we’re alive. Daenys and me.”

Beside him, you allowed yourself a small smile, though your mind was still racing from the narrow escape. Leto glanced at you, the weight of everything they had just gone through still hanging between you. "Gurney," Leto continued over the comms, "we’re coming in for a landing. Let’s regroup."

Gurney lowered his weapon, shaking his head with a mix of relief and exasperation. “You and that lass are going to be the death of me one of these days.”

The Ornithopter touched down with a soft thud on the desert sand, and Leto and you stepped out, both still feeling the adrenaline of the close call. Gurney jogged over, his weathered face stern but relieved as he clapped a hand on Leto’s shoulder.

"You gave me a heart attack, Duke. You too, lass," he said, glancing toward you.

You managed a smirk, still feeling the pulse of battle running through your veins. "Didn’t mean to," you replied, your voice steady but with an edge of fatigue.

Gurney turned his gaze between the two of you, his expression softening for a moment. “Glad you’re both all right.”

Leto nodded, his eyes meeting Gurney’s with a depth of gratitude that words couldn’t quite capture. "Thanks to you for holding the line, Gurney. But we’re not done yet. We’ve got work to finish."

Gurney, ever the loyal soldier, nodded sharply. “Then let’s get back to it.”

As Leto, you, and Gurney walked back toward the command post, the air was filled with the aftermath of battle. The desert sun hung low on the horizon, casting a soft light over the dunes. The winds carried the distant sounds of skirmishes still echoing in the distance, but the immediate area had quieted down significantly.

Gurney walked ahead, his face set in a determined grimace. He turned to Leto, reporting in a low voice, "Duke, something strange is happening. After those last frantic Harkonnen attacks, they’ve started retreating—rapidly. We’re just dealing with a few straggler forces now."

Leto’s brow furrowed as he looked up at the sky, a familiar shadow catching his eye. High above, Vexiae flew, her wings cutting through the desert winds as she soared toward the Targaryen base in the deep desert. Her powerful form seemed to command the very air itself as she disappeared into the distance.

“They’re falling back?” Leto asked, his voice thick with suspicion. “Why? That’s not like them.”

Gurney nodded. “Aye. It's like they’re pulling out suddenly. No real strategy. Just retreating. Maybe it’s the fear of what they’ve stirred up.” He gestured toward the direction where Vexiae had flown, his meaning clear.

You looked up at the sky, watching your dragon disappear toward the base, the weight of the battle and the uncertainty of the situation still hanging over you. But there was something else on your mind, something more personal.

“Leto,” you said, your voice quieter, your gaze shifting from the sky to him. “I need to contact my father. Let him and my brothers know that I’m all right.”

Leto turned to you, his eyes filled with understanding. He placed a hand gently on your arm, the warmth of his touch comforting after the ordeal you'd just gone through. “Of course. They’ll want to know you're safe.”

Gurney, ever watchful, glanced between the two of you, sensing the personal moment but keeping his focus on the task at hand. “I’ll make sure the comms are clear for you,” he offered, moving ahead toward the communications hub to ensure you could reach your family.

You turned back to Leto, your expression softening. "I don’t want them to worry," you added quietly.

Leto gave you a small smile, nodding. “We’ll get the message to them. And once we’ve regrouped, we’ll finish this.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words, knowing that the battles ahead would be fought side by side, with both of your Houses united. But for now, you focused on the immediate task—letting your family know that you were safe.

As the Atreides Ornithopter descended toward the stronghold in Arrakeen, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the desert landscape. The Atreides stronghold stood tall and imposing, a beacon of stability in the midst of the chaos that had gripped Arrakis. The moment the craft touched down, the ramp lowered, and you and Leto stepped onto the sand.

From the entrance of the stronghold, Aenys Targaryen, your father, appeared first. His usual regal demeanor was cast aside as he rushed forward, his silver hair catching the light as he moved with a surprising speed toward you. His eyes, normally calm and controlled, were filled with uncharacteristic concern.

“Daenys!” he called, his voice betraying the worry he had been holding back. The moment he reached you, he placed his hands on your shoulders, scanning you from head to toe as if reassuring himself that you were truly there, alive and well.

"Father," you greeted, your voice soft but strong, sensing the deep relief in his eyes. The stiffness you hadn't realized you were holding in your chest finally released at his touch.

Aenys exhaled, a small, rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You had me worried, child. When the news reached me of your fall, I—" He stopped, unable to complete the sentence, but you knew what he meant.

"I'm fine, truly," you reassured him, though the weight of everything you'd been through was still fresh in your mind. "And Vexiae... she lives as well."

Aenys nodded, knowing the bond between you and your dragon was just as strong as his with Vexarion. “Good. I’ve already received word of her return to the base.”

Behind him, Hawat stood near the entrance to the stronghold, his keen eyes observing the reunion. The old Mentat gave a quick nod to Leto, a look of relief crossing his sharp features. “Duke,” he greeted Leto formally, though the tension in his shoulders eased. “I’m glad to see you’ve returned safely.”

Leto, still recovering from the weight of what had happened, returned the nod. “It wasn’t easy, but we’re here,” he said, his gaze briefly drifting back toward you.

Aenys, however, remained focused on you. “What do you need?” he asked, his voice firm but gentle.

You turned to him, your voice steady but with an unmistakable urgency. “I want to see my children,” you said, the weight of the battle and everything else momentarily replaced by a singular need—the need to hold your newborns.

Aenys nodded once, understanding completely. "They’re safe. We kept them close while you were gone. Come, I’ll take you to them."

Leto watched you as you walked alongside your father, his expression softening. He knew how much your children meant to you, and after everything you had been through, they were the only thing that could truly bring you peace.

As the three of you made your way inside, Hawat and Gurney followed closely behind, ever watchful. 

...

As you made your way toward the nursery, the long corridors of the Atreides stronghold felt strangely quieter than usual. The air still carried the weight of everything that had happened, but here, in this secluded part of the stronghold, there was an almost sacred stillness. Your heart raced in anticipation of seeing your twins—your children, who had been safe while you were away, but whom you longed to hold once again.

You reached the door to the nursery and entered softly, your steps almost silent. Inside, the room was filled with the soft, comforting sound of your children breathing peacefully in their cribs. The twins were swaddled in fine cloth, and the gentle light cast a warm glow over the room. As you approached their cribs, your heart swelled.

The boy, already showing signs of his father's strength, stirred slightly as if sensing your presence. The girl, with features that mirrored your own, remained calm, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You knelt beside them, your hands brushing lightly over their delicate forms, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself a moment of true peace.

As you gently picked up your son and then your daughter, cradling them in your arms, the world outside seemed distant and irrelevant. This—this was what mattered. They were safe. You were together.

Meanwhile, back in the hall, Leto, Aenys, Gurney, and Hawat stood, the atmosphere between them tense but respectful. Aenys, standing tall and composed, cast a glance toward the door you had just disappeared through. His expression was unreadable for a moment, but then, he turned toward Leto.

“I owe you, Duke,” Aenys said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity but still carrying the weight of his authority. “You brought my daughter back to me safely, despite everything.” His eyes met Leto's, and though they were both men of great power and responsibility, in that moment, Aenys spoke not as the Dragonlord, but as a father.

Leto, still recovering from the ordeal himself, inclined his head, his voice low but steady. “It was a promise I intended to keep, no matter what. Your daughter means everything to me.”

Aenys nodded, appreciating the depth of Leto’s words. “She is Targaryen through and through—strong and stubborn. I see that much more clearly now.” There was a brief flicker of pride in his expression. “But to have a man like you by her side... I am beginning to see the wisdom in her choice.”

Hawat, ever the vigilant Mentat, studied the exchange carefully, noting the subtle shifts in tone and expression. The alliance between House Atreides and House Targaryen had always been a strategic one, but now, it had become something deeper—something more personal.

Gurney, standing nearby, broke the silence with his usual bluntness, though his tone was filled with respect. “She’s one hell of a woman, that’s for sure,” he remarked. “You’re lucky to have her, Duke.”

Leto couldn’t help but smile, his thoughts lingering on you and the children waiting for him in the nursery. “I know.”

Aenys allowed a small, rare smile to form. “As I said, I owe you, Duke. And I never leave a debt unpaid.”

Leto met Aenys’s gaze, the gravity of the situation settling over them once more. “We’ll settle that in time. But for now, I’m just grateful she’s here, and that we have a future to build together.”

Aenys nodded solemnly. “Yes, we do. And that future will be stronger than any empire built on sand.”

...

As you sat quietly in the nursery, the gentle rhythm of little Aenor and Rhaelys’s breaths filling the space, the door creaked open, and Paul stepped inside. His face, though calm as always, carried the weight of something deeper, something final. He moved toward you slowly, his eyes taking in the sight of the twins, his brother and sister, resting peacefully.

You glanced up at him, sensing the heaviness in his presence. “Paul,” you said softly, careful not to disturb the babies. “You’re leaving.”

Paul nodded, his gaze distant yet focused. “Yes... I have to go to Valyria,” he said quietly, the ancient name heavy on his tongue, as though it carried the gravity of his fate. “It’s where my path leads.”

You frowned slightly, your heart tightening at the thought of him embarking on such a journey. “Valyria,” you repeated, your voice filled with both curiosity and concern. “The Red Woman spoke of it, didn’t she?”

Paul gave a faint nod, his eyes not quite meeting yours, as though he were staring into a future only he could see. “Yes. She told me it’s where everything began... and where it must end.” He paused, glancing at the sleeping twins before finally meeting your gaze. “I have no choice. It’s my destiny.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, thick and unspoken, as you absorbed the weight of his words. Then, in a quieter voice, you said, “I’ll miss you, Paul. I’ve always wondered... in another life, on another path, who we might have been to each other.”

Paul’s expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but his eyes still carried that faraway look. “In another path... in another life, we would have been... different,” he said, his voice low and cryptic. “There would have been twins then too... but everyone else... everyone would have been gone. Dead. You... and I...” He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid, but the weight of what he implied lingered between you like an invisible thread connecting your fates.

The faintest chill ran down your spine as you pondered his words, feeling the echoes of a life unlived, a destiny untaken. But Paul quickly stepped forward, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “This path is different,” he added, his voice steadier. “We’re still here. The people we love... are still here.”

You nodded, offering a small smile, though the ache of saying goodbye tugged at your heart. “I will miss you.”

Paul smiled too, though his was tinged with the bittersweet acceptance of what lay ahead. “We’ll see each other again,” he said, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “Maybe not soon... but we will.”

He stepped back, his hand slowly slipping away, and with one final glance at Aenor and Rhaelys, Paul turned toward the door. Before he left, he stopped, his gaze meeting yours one last time.

“Goodbye,” he said softly, the word carrying more than just a farewell—it was a promise, a thread that stretched beyond this moment, this life.

You watched him go, the door closing softly behind him, and as the quiet returned, you couldn’t help but wonder, once again, about all the paths left untaken. But for now, this was your path—the life you had chosen, the one you had fought for. And no matter where Paul’s journey took him, you believed, deep down, that your fates would cross again.

...

As Paul approached the shuttle, its hull gleaming beneath the Arrakeen sky, the Red Woman stood silently waiting at its entrance. Her presence was as unsettling as ever, her eyes dark and knowing. Not far behind her stood Jessica, her expression stern but softened by an underlying sadness. She was preparing for a farewell she knew would change everything.

Paul’s steps were measured, as though he had already made peace with the path he had chosen. He glanced over his shoulder one last time, his eyes scanning the city he was leaving behind, the city he had grown up in, and the people he had come to know. And then, he heard his father’s voice.

“Paul!”

Leto, with Duncan and Gurney trailing behind him, was hurrying across the courtyard. His call carried with it an urgency and a grief he could barely contain. When he reached his son, he placed a firm hand on Paul’s shoulder, his grip stronger than usual, as if he were trying to hold onto something he knew he couldn’t keep.

“Take care of yourself out there,” Leto said, his voice low and thick with emotion.

Paul looked up at his father, the deep connection between them unspoken but understood. His gaze softened as he gave a small nod, the weight of the moment hanging between them like the desert’s silence.

“I will,” Paul said quietly, before offering a faint smile. “You… take care of her. Of Daenys.”

Leto’s grip on Paul’s shoulder tightened slightly at the mention of you. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—pride, love, and a deep sense of duty. He nodded, his voice softer now. “I will.”

Paul’s gaze lingered on his father for a moment longer, knowing that this goodbye wasn’t just about leaving a planet—it was about leaving behind the life he had known. The future was fluctuant, but Paul had already glimpsed fragments of it, and there was no turning back now.

With a final glance at Duncan and Gurney, Paul turned toward the shuttle, the weight of his destiny heavy on his shoulders. The Red Woman stepped aside to let him pass, her eyes following him with a knowing gaze.

Jessica, standing at the base of the ramp, gave Leto one last look, her eyes filled with a mixture of resignation and sorrow. The unspoken words between them were almost tangible, but neither said anything. Jessica knew that Leto’s heart had been irrevocably pulled toward you, and now, all that was left was the path Paul had to take. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned, following her son into the shuttle.

Leto stood rooted in place, watching as the shuttle door slowly closed, sealing Paul and Jessica inside. The hum of the engines grew louder, and the shuttle began to rise, lifting off from the surface of Arrakis with a smooth precision. The air around them shifted, hot and dry, as the ship took to the sky, disappearing into the horizon.

Duncan placed a hand on Leto’s shoulder. “He’ll be alright, my Lord,” he said quietly.

Leto’s gaze remained fixed on the now-empty sky where the shuttle had been moments ago. His thoughts, however, drifted back to you and the twins, and the promise he had just made to Paul.

“Daenys,” Leto murmured, almost to himself. “I’ll keep my promise.”

As the last trace of the shuttle vanished, Leto turned back toward his stronghold, his mind already on what lay ahead, not just for Paul—but for the future of your House and his.

...

In the years following Paul’s departure, the galaxy shifted. Slowly, like the sands of Arrakis under a relentless wind, the great powers that had once seemed so permanent began to wane. The Sisterhood, once whispering into the ears of emperors, began to lose their grip, as did Shaddam IV, the Emperor. They clung to power like dying stars, but the tides had changed. The Atreides-Targaryen alliance—what began as a simple partnership between two Houses, one burdened by prophecy and the other by exile—ignited a transformation no one could have predicted.

It wasn’t immediate. No revolution ever is. But over time, other Houses, ones once loyal to Corrino, started seeking favor from us. They came with veiled requests and open hands, desiring something new: Targaryen space theology. They wanted what we had discovered—our control of the Drakaon crystal that freed us from reliance on the Guild. The old ways were crumbling, and they knew it.

There was something about the way we had survived—the way we had rebuilt from ashes and thrived in the shadows of forgotten stars—that drew them in. Freedom. That was the promise. Freedom from the Guild’s stranglehold, from the reliance on spice that had enslaved the known universe for far too long. The secrets we held, born from exile and tempered by time, were now the currency of power. A power stronger than even the spice.

Leto... my Leto... He was always at my side, steadfast and unwavering. We built a future for our children together. Aenor and Rhaelys, their names born from our ancestors, carry within them both the strength of House Atreides and the fire of Valyria. One day, they will sit at the crossroads of two legacies, and they will wield the power we have cultivated over years of war and struggle.

I often watched them in the nursery, their curious eyes following the movements of their dragon eggs, cradled in warmth, waiting to hatch. Leto would smile at me, that knowing look in his eyes—he, too, understood the weight of our legacy. One day, the dragons will return what was once ours. One day, Valyria will rise again, not as it was, but reborn through us. Through our children. Through the future we’ve fought for.

But still… there are shadows on the horizon.

There was no word from Paul. The days turned into months, the months into years, and still, his absence hung over us like a storm not yet broken. Sometimes, I would close my eyes and see him—walking through a world reduced to ash and ruin, a world where both gods and men had died. I dream of him often, of the paths he may walk, of the choices he must make. And I wonder… what will he become? What will the galaxy become?

The winds of change have begun, but the storm had not yet arrived.

I stand at the precipice of what is to come, knowing full well that the dragons will lead the way. And though Paul is gone from Arrakis, though his path is uncertain, I know that we will meet again. In dreams or in reality, it does not matter. The future awaits us all.

For now, we remain vigilant. We are fire. We are blood. And the universe will know our name.

I am Daenys Targaryen, and this is only the beginning.

[two-white-butterflies]

the sun rises from the west | d. targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen didn't die during the war - though there were many nights that he wished otherwise. A story where he loses his first-wife to battle.

Pairing: daemon targaryen/dayne!reader

Rating: Mature [death, angst, smut]

Author's Note: Daenerys-Drogo inspired.

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When mountains blow in the wind like leaves. Then you shall return to me."

(DRAGONSTONE, 129AC)

Daemon always admired you - believed that your skills were greater than his own. A sad sigh escapes his mouth, hands reaching for a cloth and wiping the sweat on your son's sleeping body. He's lived numerous lives; warrior, husband and now healer. "- the healers are doing their best." Rhaenyra mumbles, laying a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder.

She has sired him two sons - but he always returns to Maekar. He always returns to the faint memory of you. "My aunt was taken by the same fever," he responded bitterly. He was not losing Maekar - he was not going to lose the greatest piece of you.

"I will take care of Maekar, please return to the battlefield - return to me." his niece pleaded, eyes almost brimming with tears. Maekar has been ill for the past months - and he has not left his bedside. "He is a boy of almost twenty and five summers. He will make it through this winter." Rhaenyra comforted.

"I refuse to fight knowing that he is fighting a battle in his bed." Daemon gritted his teeth, annoyed by his niece's lack of sympathy. "When Aegon and Viserys were sick - you did not show this devotion." she answered petulantly - now she could understand Alicent's hatred of her.

Daemon turns his head slowly - eyes glaring at his wife. "Rhaenyra, do not begin with this." he argued, attempting to keep his voice low - so that his son wouldn't awaken. "You love him more." she snapped. "Do not lie to yourself." he lied.

She stands up - eyes dark and filled with sorrow.

"How is it that you love her more than me? She is a dead girl - I am alive, yet I have to share you - a-and mayhaps I was fine with sharing - but not our children, Daemon. Your love should only be for them." her lips shuddered while shutting the door loudly.

(KINGSLANDING, 105AC)

You gather your gowns - fastening Maekar to your hips while you run through the halls with a smile on your face. "Daemon!" he wrapped you in a warm embrace - he smelled like fire and ash and home. "Ābrazȳrys," he cooed while taking the little boy away from you.

"Did you have fun?" you inquired, and he nodded quickly leading you towards your shared chambers. "Ēdan kirimves," (I had fun) he answered, pulling away from your fingers and opening the door. "You should've joined me," he offered, placing Maekar on the bed.

"I do not fancy riding a dragon," you responded while sitting beside your son who was sucking on his fingers. "You are my wife. You will learn." he informed firmly while removing his gloves. "Is it a profession of love or one of your whims?" you tease, unconsciously pulling Maekar closer to you. "It does not matter, riña - you will obey all the same." he breathed, body moving closer to you.

"Hen rhinka," (Of course) you hummed, staring up at him. "There is something that I need to tell you," he removed his coat before sitting on the bed. He adored everything about you - your smile, your hair, your scent and your ladyness - but there was one thing he hated; your anger. "What is it?" you inquire.

"Viserys commands me to fight a war."

(STEPSTONES, 106AC)

Daemon knew that it was a mistake to bring you here. You had an expert command with the sword - but he shouldn't have brought you here. "It's not too late to return home," he breathed, wrapping his arms around your half-asleep figure. "I could say the same, husband." you yawned, turning around to face him.

"You shouldn't even fucking be here," he cursed - smelling the faint scent of seawater on your hair. "Should be taking care of our son, like a good little wife." he added humorously. "Am I not good enough for you, ser?" you raise an eyebrow - and he silences you with a kiss.

He adored you in this way - skin tanned with fleeting spots on your shoulders, hair slightly bleached from the sun's rays - and body perfectly ready and sore for his bidding. "Too good for me," he hummed while moving his body to be hovering above you. "Daemon," you moaned feeling his fingers roam inside your nightgown.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

(STEPSTONES, 115AC)

His heart couldn't stop beating.

"Ābrazȳrys," he knelt down to your bleeding body. "Daemon," you choke on salt-water - feeling the waves gently nudge your body against the shoreline. "I'm glad to see you," you choke on air, hearing the thumping footsteps of your husband's healers.

He presses upon your wounded stomach - adding pressure to ensure that no blood would seep out of your body. "Reserve your strength," he commanded, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Daemon," you groan - seeing spots of black in your periphery. "(Your Name)" he responded firmly, helping the healers carry you away from the sand.

It has been three days since he's last seen you stand. Two days since he's last slept. He sees the way that your eyes curled in pain after every move - you were in agonizing pain, but you were enduring for him and for Maekar. "Ābrazȳrys" he cleared his throat - relieved that you were awake. "Valzȳrys," you replied with a pained smile.

"How are you?" he asks, sitting on your bedside. "I will be the same tomorrow." you answered with bitterness. The pain in your stomach has not left you since the accident. It festers like a living wound - providing you with the most torturous pains. "- and I know for certain because today feels like yesterday." you add, taking a sip of the milk of poppy. It does nothing to relieve your pain.

"What can I do about it?" he asks again, pained that you were feeling pain. "- everyday I feel like I am burned by dragonfire. My body feels like it is flayed and turned inside out. I cannot breathe at night - in the morning, my eyelids flutter." you explained, grip tightening around the teacup.

There was only one thing that you desired - but it was too cruel to ask of him. "I cannot move my legs - my arms feel like iron. Valzȳrys - to live like this is far too cruel." you cried. His eyes harden at your notion. The Maesters saved your life - but they did not release your mind of the torture that you endured in the hands of the enemy.

"No." he breathes - knowing the path that you were about to pursue.

"It is the only way - if you refuse to do so, I'll find a way."

"No."

(DRAGONSTONE, 129AC)

Daemon refused to touch you that day - he refused to speak to you, but when night came - he decided to obey your wishes. He filled your cup with one of the poisons inside your ring - he made sure to choose the one that gave you no suffering. He laid by your side - singing songs of your dialect to ease the pain of your passing.

He won the war because of the rage he felt over you. Over himself.

There was another woman after you - Laena Velaryon. The most beautiful girl that he's ever seen. A girl who had the same fire. She was skilled with a dagger - obeyed him in the same ways that you did. But she was not you. She did not fill the void that you left - not even after giving him Rhaena and Baela. He was a cruel husband - but not a cruel father.

After Laena's death came Rhaenyra - his niece.

She was rebellious - filled with fire and he worshipped her. Daemon worshipped Rhaenyra with all of his heart - they were forged from the same stone. Daemon was devoted her in way that he was never devoted to you - and that was because they shared the same blood. Daemon felt for Rhaenyra the same admiration that he felt for his brother. It was devotion. Not love.

And there he was - returning to what happened fourteen years ago.

Inside a small humid hut - hands wrapped around you, but this time it was your son. "Ivestragī nyke jemagon ao hen se ōñosa," he sung, wiping the tears that were streaming out of his irises. Maekar was cold to the touch - and his breathing was labored.

'If Lord Maekar's condition worsens, we'll be able to do nothing'

"Mother used to sing that to me," the boy mumbled. "Will I be able to see my wife again, my boys?" he asked his father - feeling a heaviness loom over his body. "When you get better," he replied.

(SHORES OF DRAGONSTONE, 129AC)

"Kekepa," his grandson opens his mouth. Daemon quickly lifts the boy and settles him on his hips. "Melara," he turned towards his good-daughter, quickly wiping the tears that were falling out of Viserys' eyes. He places a hand on her shoulder.

"He fought well." he comforted, staring at Maekar's body that was behind them. "I don't know how we'll live without him," she bit her lips - earning a chuckle from the older man. "It will be hard, but you will endure." he replied seeing Rhaenyra's figure walking towards them.

"I offer my condolences, Lady Melara - my grief extends to you and House Tyrell. Viserys and Rhaegar are free to remain here." Rhaenyra says politely, offering her hand to carry her step-grandson. "I think it will be best to do that, my queen. Father is already speaking of marriage - House Lannister he says, but I cannot marry yet. Not when I can still feel Maekar." she stared at her husband's body.

Waiting for either Rhaenyra or Daemon to say the word.

"You can say it." Daemon took a deep breath, turning to face Maekar.

"Dracarys,"

part two

@nyctophilic0vitnir @watercolorskyy @bellastwd @icarusgloom @pearlstiare @areaderinlove @hc-geralt-23 @rozendiors @immyowndefender @ammo23 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @ammo23 @immyowndefender @bitchyunknownuser

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[something-tofightfor]

Aphelion - 10

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

*Please be sure to consider all chapter warnings before reading! Warnings will be updated for each chapter in individual posts as well as on the Masterlist.

Warnings: language, weapons, mentions of unethical medical practices, vampirism, the Lannisters are assholes. 

Word Count: 14,962

Summary: Tyrion Lannister is offering help, but why?  If he can, in fact give you and your friends a much needed advantage, are you going to be able to make the most of it? 

The more you see of Oberyn and his family in action, the more you believe that the answer is yes. 

A/N: Sorry about the delay, friends! A literal year later, and we’re back with a supersized chapter both in terms of word count and content. 

@the-blind-assassin-12​ and I apologize for the delay with this chapter, but we’re back on track now - and already working on the next part. Thank you for sticking around and for reading and sending in asks and comments about this group; we both love them very, very much. 

Also, if you have questions about details or plot points or the way that Westerosi history/world fits into the “real” world- please ask! We don’t want to confuse anyone.

Catch up with the Aphelion masterlist here!

(banner by @valkblue )

“Tyrion Lannister, at your service.” 

Mouth agape in shock, you hurried to shut it as the man before you rose from his low bow. Seven hells and holy shit. That’s…  Wide-eyed and stunned despite what Oberyn had told you about the Lannisters and their ability to cheat mortality, you stared at the man whose portrait you walked past every morning on your way into the office at Golden Lion. 

But that was painted hundreds of years ago. He looks… You blinked, an unnatural chill moving down your spine at your next thought. No. He doesn’t just look the same. 

The roguish curls. The color of his eyes. The scar that sliced diagonally across his face. It was as though the man had hopped down from the ornate frame that hung outside the ninth floor conference room and was now standing in front of you.

He is the same. The exact same. 

Before you could ask anyone to explain how it was possible though, Tyrion was speaking again. “Prince Oberyn Martell, Ellaria Sand, Toban Dayne.” He nodded in greeting at each of them. “It is a pleasure to see you all again. You look well. I can’t believe it’s been an age.” He used one hand to gesture towards the woman standing next to him as he went on. “And of course now I’ve met Tyene. But -” He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing as they flicked from where Oberyn’s hand was linked with yours and up to your face before giving you a polite smile. “I’ve not yet had the privilege of making your acquaintance.”

That’s for sure. “I’m… My name is -” You cleared your throat and introduced yourself to the man. “I’m just -”

“She is with me, Lord Tyrion.” Oberyn’s grip tightened as he squeezed your hand, his tone not quite threatening but definitely serious. When you glanced up at him you saw the same was true about the look in his eyes, their dark depths glinting like the edge of a sharpened blade. Oh.  “And she is under my protection.” 

“Oberyn.” Ellaria’s voice came from just behind where the two of you were standing, one hand rising to his shoulder in a move of gentle de-escalation. Tilting his chin down just enough, you saw him watch as her fingers dug into his bicep with light pressure.  “Do not forget that Tyene asked him to come here. He is a guest.” Her grip loosened and she leaned forward to press a kiss to the back of his shoulder. “There is no need for aggression, my love.”  When she dropped her hand to her side and stepped away, Oberyn shifted his eyes back to the smaller man.

“I can assure you that you will not need to protect her - or anyone else here - from me.” He brought both hands to his chest and then opened his palms to the ceiling with a shrug. “We all want the same thing, after all.” As he’d done with everyone else, Tyrion nodded in your direction then. “It is very nice to meet you.” 

“Same to you,” you managed, still slightly awed and confused by his existence. Because it doesn’t… You cut your own thoughts short with the interjection of another one. 

You were only standing where you were because an undead golem creature controlled by one of ancient Westeros’ most powerful families - who were being preserved through some form of blood magic - attacked you in an alleyway before you were rescued by a man dressed in an Oberyn Martell costume that turned out not to be a costume at all, nor was the man just a man but the Prince of Dorne himself and one of the Others, whom you had until that point considered merely part of the pantheon of folklore and children’s stories you’d grown up hearing. 

None of it made any sense. But it’s what’s happening anyway.

“Well, now that we all know one another,” Tyene chimed in, excitement in her voice. “Let’s get to the fun part.” 

“Ah, yes.” Tyrion clapped his palms together, a grin curving up the edges of his mouth. “The fun part.” 

What the hell does that mean? 

You didn’t have to wait long to find out. A few minutes later you were seated at the dining room table next to Oberyn, Toban and Ellaria sitting across from you and Tyrion at the head. This is insane. You were reminded briefly of the silly hypothetical questions that you and Nora would sometimes ask each other for shits and giggles. Those questions included things like, “If you could have dinner with any five people living or not, who would it be and why?” She would never fucking believe this, even if I could tell her. 

What started as a silly thought smacked you in the face as you realized that you might never get to tell your friend about any of it - and that she might never get to meet Oberyn. Another layer of realization peeled away and you tried not to think about the very real possibility that you might never even see her again. 

No. Your eyes closed, the lids creasing from how tightly you squeezed them shut. No.You opened your eyes again, making a decision. I will see you again, Nora, and we’ll go get burgers from that place by your office, and - 

Your plans for a reunion were interrupted by the sound of Oberyn’s voice, just above a whisper, speaking your name. Hmm? Blinking, you turned to find him watching you, a look of cautious concern on his face. Oh, shit, I need to - “Are you alright?” Beneath the table your hand was still held securely in his, his thumb sweeping lightly over your knuckles. “You seem…” His eyes narrowed as he searched for the right word, but you didn’t give him the chance to find it. 

I need to focus on what’s happening here. Now. Wrinkling your nose, you gave a small shake of your head and shifted your joined hands from your lap to his, resting them on his thigh. “I’m fine, Oberyn. Just -” You tilted your head inconspicuously towards Tyrion, the blond man engaged in amicable small-talk with Toban. “It’s a lot to take in.” 

That wasn’t a lie. Sitting down with Tyrion Lannister and hatching a plan to dispatch the rest of his family was a lot to take in. It wasn’t the entire truth, either, but you knew that it wasn’t the time to discuss the things that had just crept into your thoughts. Later. We can talk about that later. 

His lips parted, the tip of his tongue slipping out to dampen them. Before he could say anything else though, Tyene breezed into the room carrying a plastic tray of sliced fruit, half of the torn price sticker still stuck to the edge. What is she… Oh. Your eyes widened in recognition of the ancient Westerosi custom. Despite the things currently weighing on your mind, you let out a small huff of laughter. I mean, yeah. I guess that counts. 

“Okay.” Setting it down next to Ellaria, she pushed it with just enough force so that it slid the length of the table to stop in front of Tyrion. “We served you food and gave you shelter.” She pointed to the ceiling and swirled her finger around as the man she was speaking to reached for a bright yellow slice of mango, an amused quirk to his lips. “And we’re not the fucking Freys, so -” 

Nearly choking on the mouthful of fruit he’d bitten into in an attempt to mask a snort, Tyrion managed to swallow. A small smirk drew its way up the side of his face as he spoke, keeping his eyes on Tyene. “While I do appreciate the gesture - and the refreshments - I already trust everyone present with my life.” One eyebrow jumped as he cocked his head to the side and blindly plucked a grape from the platter, popping it into his mouth. “And that is more than I can say about…well, anyone else that I know.” 

Tyene shot back a smirk of her own, pulling out the chair next to Ellaria and dropping into it in one fluid motion. “Still,” she revealed a small cluster of grapes she must have taken from the tray before sending it in the opposite direction. Lifting it to her mouth, she stopped short of taking a bite to finish speaking. “Can’t hurt. Traditions and shit, right?” At that, she closed her teeth around one plump purple grape and plucked it from the stem. 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” 

“Perhaps what you could say better, Lord Tyrion-” Oberyn reached forward and grabbed a handful of berries from the tray, popping one in his mouth as he continued. “Is exactly what it is that you are here to discuss.”  

“Yes,” Ellaria agreed. “We are all very eager to hear what you have to say.” She raised one eyebrow and turned in Tyene’s direction. “And why Tyene asked you to come here to say it.”

You knew that Ellaria trusted Tyene completely, so she wasn’t openly questioning her judgment in bringing the man - a Lannister, and by all rights and titles a sworn enemy of the Others - into their safehouse. She’s just not sure how much trust to put in him. Glancing sideways at Oberyn, you saw the same seemed to be true for him. Even though he admitted that Tyrion wasn’t like the rest of them… he’s… 

You watched him pop another berry between his teeth, his eyes never leaving the guest of the evening. He’s hesitant to call him an ally. Considering everything he’d gone through at the hands of Tyrion’s family, though, you couldn’t blame him. Beneath the table, where your hand was still clasped in his, you stroked your thumb over his skin. 

Tyrion chuckled. “Direct and to the point as ever, I see.” He sighed. “Alright, then, no need to draw it out.” Sitting up straighter, he cleared his throat and began. “As you know, there are, and always have been, several people who would love nothing more than to see my dear siblings and our illustrious father relieved of their heads.” He drew one finger in a line across his throat, an exaggerated grimace pulling his mouth down and to the side as he sucked air through his teeth. Clicking his tongue, he cocked his head to one side before swinging it back and forth in a small shake.  “And I’m sure that all of them are well within their rights to want them dead.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you caught Tyene’s small nod, one of her eyebrows raised in an amused arch as she smirked at Tyrion. She had one knee bent and propped against the armrest of her chair, that foot perched in her lap. She seems to agree with him. From what you knew about Cersei, Jaime and Tywin - the originals, anyway - you didn’t doubt it to be true. Especially if they’re just as awful now as they were back then. 

You had studied the Great Wars of Westeros as part of your job. And you knew that no matter how well hidden the true perpetrators and instigators had been, many of the major shifts in power had all boiled down to Lannister machinations. Betrayals, assassinations, bribes and broken promises were par for the course when it came to that family’s lineage. 

When it was all said and done, the number of lives destroyed or cut short by the cruelty and greed of one house numbered in the millions. And if they’re still at it… There was no telling how many more people - humans and Others alike - had suffered or died because of them. It made your stomach twist to consider. They have to be stopped. 

You shifted your eyes from Tyene to Ellaria, trying to gauge what she was thinking now that Tyrion had started to reveal his motives. Though she was sitting back in her chair with her elbows and forearms crossed and resting flat against the table in a relaxed position, the expression she wore was anything but neutral. She looks… Her dark eyes were narrowed in a glare - not at the man who was speaking, but at the words he was saying, and her upper lip twitched into something close to a snarl. The woman looked as frightening as you first feared her to be. Like she’s ready to kill someone. 

But then, almost before that thought finished crossing your mind, Toban’s hand slid down from the back of the chair she sat in to land on her shoulder, the contact wordlessly soothing her. His large palm skated down to her bicep, and if you weren’t looking, you would have missed the small sigh that she released, her eyes closing for half a second. When they opened again they were still sharply focused on Tyrion, but there wasn’t as much unbridled hatred burning in them. 

Oh, that’s interesting. You wondered if Toban had some kind of gift or if his ability to so easily calm Ellaria had to do with the strength of the bond between them. Making a mental note to add that to the growing list of new things that you’d need to ask Oberyn the next time the two of you were alone together, you turned in his direction at the sound of his voice. 

“Yes,” he responded, laying his left arm on the table and leaning slightly over it, his right hand still wrapped around yours under the wooden ledge. His brow was slightly wrinkled in thought, chin inclined so that he could look at a downward angle through the fringe of his dark lashes at Tyrion. Is this what he looked like back then, when he had to represent the Martells in a royal capacity?

There was none of Tyene’s smug confidence, Toban’s ease or Ellaria’s blind rage in Oberyn’s expression, and you realized that was because he was very seriously weighing everything that the man seated across from him was saying. He trusts him. At least enough to hear him out. 

“Yet they are still alive.” The hand on the table curled into a fist and he knocked his knuckles once against the sleek surface. “Still drawing breath, still able to return, and still in control of their fucking Mountain.” He shook his head. “H-” 

“They are indeed.” Tyrion’s tone was blunt and hard. “But that is only because no one has ever had more cause to want them dead, nor more of a chance at making that happen than the people sitting in this room. Myself included.” He released a breath before scrubbing a hand over his hair. “And I know how to kill them. For good.”  

Silence fell over the room then as everyone considered Tyrion’s words. They were true, and you knew it. Your eyes moved slowly around the space, landing briefly on each person at the table. 

Ellaria had made enemies of the Lannisters thousands of years ago when she first denied them the gift of eternal life, and had been fighting them off ever since. For the first time since she came through the door of the other apartment, you noticed something that looked like exhaustion flicker across her features. You tried and failed to quantify the toll it would take on someone - immortal or not - to endure centuries of contention, of always waiting for and trying to anticipate Tywin or Cersei’s next move. What Tyrion was suggesting would finally free her of that. 

Your eyes traveled to Toban next. He had been thrust into the feud from the start, simply because Ellaria had chosen him over a Lannister to be her first. From the moment his second life began, he’d been at risk of attack, constantly looking over his shoulder and Ellaria’s. Maybe that’s why he seems so calm about it all now. Because it’s all he knows. That thought saddened you. But if Tyrion’s plan was successful, Toban might finally get the chance to know peace. 

Blinking, your gaze shifted to Tyene. Though she was actually hundreds of years old, her young features were forever frozen in time. For once, she had discarded the tough persona and you saw something in her eyes that looked like innocence. She, like Toban, had inherited this blood feud from Ellaria. But by the time she became an Other, Oberyn had also been steeped in it for centuries, so unlike Toban, Tyene had had to watch both of them suffer along with being hurt by it herself. In a way, her very creation was a product of it. She deserved a chance to get out from under that cloud, and Tyrion was presenting the best chance she’d been given yet. 

Unshed tears laced with anger and ache and even hope stung the corners of your eyes as they finally landed on Oberyn. For him the feud had begun while he was still human. He’s known the hurt in both lives. It began before he’d even had an opportunity to mourn the loss of his sister, his niece, and his nephew. 

Though he’d told you a little about what things were like for him once he was changed, and you knew that he’d enjoyed plenty in his second life, you also knew that every joy he experienced was limited, dulled even if only slightly by the fact that until this feud was done, he would never truly be able to have what he desired most. 

You swallowed and drew in a breath that shook on the way out. If Tyrion was right and the Lannisters could be killed once and for all, then he might finally not have have his revenge, not only get justice for Elia and her children - but at the same time, create the opportunity to live the rest of his life more fully than he’d ever allowed himself to before. 

And that’s what I want for him, too. It’s what I want for all of them. 

When the silence was finally broken, you were surprised to hear Toban speak up first. “Powerful talk, Lord Tyrion.” His voice had a quality that made it sound as though he was always smiling, even when he wasn’t. “But if you know how to kill them, then why haven’t you done so?” Lifting one hand, he gestured towards Oberyn but kept his focus on the man he was speaking to. “Why did you wait until they almost killed one of us?” 

There was something almost protective in the way that Toban asked that question, like an older brother looking out for his younger sibling. Though you’d been somewhat unsure of what to make of him at first, it was clear that he cared about Oberyn, and not only because of how important he was to Ellaria.  And that makes Oberyn’s reaction so much more interesting.

“It isn’t talk,” Tyrion countered. “But it is powerful.” He interlaced his fingers, placing his joined hands on the tabletop. “Unlike my father who has always measured power in coin, or my sister who counts it in cruelty, or even my brother with all of his ridiculous bravado, I have always known that true power lies elsewhere entirely.” 

“Is that so?” Oberyn posed the question with a contemplative tilt of his head. Tyrion raised a brow and lowered his chin. “And where is it that you have found power, then?” 

Leaning forward, the other man grinned. “In knowing things, Prince Oberyn. And in knowing the right people.” He brought his fingertips to his chest. “I know things.” Tyrion circled his hands outward to the group gathered around the table, making sure to make brief eye contact with everyone - including you. “And you are the right people to share those things with.” 

“Now is not the time to play coy with us, Lannister.” Ellaria’s tone was serious, but not harsh. “If you have something to say, speak.” 

Tyene clicked her tongue and reached to snatch another piece of pineapple from the tray. “She’s right, Tyrion. Enough with the opening statements, this isn’t an HBO courtroom drama.” Despite the tension that hummed around the table, you had to hold back a snort of laughter. She took a bite of the fruit she held, chewing through her next words before popping the rest of the bright yellow chunk into her mouth. “Tell them what you told me.” Shooting her eyes over to meet first with Ellaria’s, and then with Oberyn’s, she swallowed the bite she took. “Trust me, it’s worth it.” 

“It is.” Tyrion insisted, nodding in Tyene’s direction. “But I do understand the urgency,” he added, giving Ellaria a smile that did nothing to change the expression she wore. I get it though. You stared at the blond man. I want to know what the hell he’s got, too. Because if it’s not… Pressing your lips together, you took a deep breath in through your nose. If whatever he’s about to say doesn’t give them an edge then it’s a waste of time, and time is something we don’t have. 

Without letting another second tick by, Tyrion cleared his throat and finally played his card. “You know very well by now that my family has devised a way to cheat death. When you denied their various attempts to get you to change them, make them immortal like you, Cersei and my father took it upon themselves to find the next best thing.” He cringed, top lip pulling up slightly before he continued. “They turned to a man named Qyburn, a reject from the Citadel who was stripped of his Maester chain for conducting…  immoral experiments on living subjects.” 

Your stomach turned at the thought of what those experiments might entail if they were deemed immoral even by ancient standards. Images of dank dungeons, bodies and parts of bodies on stone slabs, iron tongs, rusted forceps, and substances in vials and bottles filled your mind, along with the pain-filled moans and shrieks of those being poked and prodded and tortured - and you forced them away. I don’t want to know. 

Sparing you any details that weren’t directly related to stopping his family from continuing their reign of terror, Tyrion went on. “Primitive and uncivilized as they were, Qyburn’s methods did yield results, though. He is the one responsible for resurrecting Gregor Clegane from almost certain death during a battle. When that was a success, Cersei immediately tasked him with modifying the process used with the Mountain so that the rest of us could join him in his ability to reawaken.”

“So it’s some kind of dark magic?” Toban asked. “Reanimation?” 

You recalled the monster in the alleyway, a shiver passing down your spine as his blood red eyes blinked back at you in your memory. You tried not to think of how many times that thing had been killed and brought back. Or how many people he’s killed. For the hundredth time since the night of the Golden Lion Halloween party, your thoughts turned to how close you’d come to having your skull caved in by the brute’s giant fists. Without realizing it, you were holding your breath, your grip on Oberyn’s hand tightening until your skin strained at your knuckles. 

He realized it right away though, immediately turning to bring his lips close to your ear, whispering into it. “He won’t touch you again.” You felt the tip of his nose brush the shell of your ear before he left a quick kiss there. “I will keep you safe.” 

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, nodding. I know you will, Oberyn. 

“Indeed.” Tyrion’s answer to Toban’s question made your eyes snap back open. “Blood magic, to be exact, Ser Dayne.” What? “You could say that it was… inspired by the supernatural properties that your blood carries, actually. Qyburn was able to isolate and synthesize the aspect of the Others’ blood that allows for reparative regeneration. In the case of Gregor, he used it to restore the body. The Mountain can take enough damage to kill a man, even one of his size. But given enough time and rest, he will always come back … and be just as he was before.”

“And what about the rest of them?” The softness he’d just offered you was gone from his voice as Oberyn addressed what Tyrion had revealed. “In the case of Cersei? Of Tywin?” He pursed his lips into a casual frown that deepened the divot between his brows. “You?” 

Flinching, the man swallowed. He knows they’re not going to like whatever he’s about to say. “For the rest of us, he… ah…” Tyrion’s palms came together and his scarred brow furrowed. “He applied the synthetic to the genetic makeup of our blood, to keep it from degrading over time so that it can be… um -” His nose wrinkled, as though his explanation disturbed him as much as it did you. “Given as an infusion at the time of rebirth. It ensures that we will always come back exactly the same physically as well as retain all of our personality traits and memories each time.” 

“Disgusting.” Suddenly, Ellaria was on her feet, palms slamming the table as she snarled. “They’ve desecrated the power of our blood. They -” Her eyes widened, going coal black with realization, lining up events from long ago with the information that had just been shared. “They killed two of our kind. Two of my Children.” Pain flickered across her face then, her voice breaking slightly with hatred and anguish. “For this. To study their blood. Our blood. My blood.” She hissed, sucking in a breath. “They will pay.” 

Toban rose silently, both of his hands wrapping around her wrists to lift them gently away from the table, which you noticed was dented from the force of her blow. He used that grip to pull her closer, easing her into his arms so that her shoulder was nestled against the center of his chest. Sliding his palm up her bicep, he pressed his forehead to her temple and whispered something that you knew Oberyn and Tyene had heard but that was a mystery to you. Not that it’s any of my business. Whatever he had said and the way that he held her seemed to have the effect he hoped for, Ellaria nodding at his words and letting him guide her back into her chair. 

“How?” Toban’s naturally deep voice dropped like a rock with the single word. “How do we stop them? How do we kill them?” 

“It’s actually quite simple.” Tyrion cocked his head to one side and then the other. “Relatively speaking, of course.” He sighed. “If you destroy the vials of original Lannister blood that Qyburn enhanced, you take away their ability to return.” Pausing, he locked eyes with Oberyn. “You make them mortal. And mortals are very easy to kill.” 

Your heart thumped against your ribcage as though it was trying to punctuate Tyrion’s point. We are, though. No super strength or speed, no healing abilities…no second chances. That thought forced another to click. Wait. “But won’t that make you mortal, too?” Every eye in the room snapped in your direction at the sound of your voice. Narrowing your eyes, you shook your head. “Wouldn’t destroying the vials mean that you couldn’t come back either?” How can we be sure we can trust him? Why would he put himself at risk for this? What if it’s a- 

“You’re wondering if I am leading you - or rather, your friends here - into a trap.” It wasn’t a question, it was a keen observation on his part. “Wondering why I would cut off my nose to spite my face, so to speak?” You swallowed, nodding. Yeah. Exactly. You were surprised when Tyrion’s jovial features turned slightly sad, the man releasing a breath. “My family has never been kind to me.” He grimaced, a rut forming between his eyebrows.. “Mostly my father and Cersei but… But Jaime, too. They’ve always been cruel, always made sure that I knew that I was only alive because they needed someone to delegate the lowest duties to. They’ve always found ways to make my many lifetimes feel like a journey through all seven hells. They…” His eyes closed and he gave a small shake of his head before opening them again. When he did, their crystal clear depths were trained on you. “I would rather die one final death than continue to be brought back just so my sister has a spider to pull legs from.” 

“I - “ You shook your head and swallowed. Shit, I wasn’t expecting that. “Tyrion, I’m sorry, I didn’t -” 

When he spoke your name, the sadness was gone from his voice. “If anyone here should be apologizing for anything, it certainly isn’t you.” He sighed. “It’s me. For everything that my family has done to all of you.” With a nod and a scrunch of his nose, he swallowed. “Which is also part of why I am here. It’s not just about how they’ve hurt me or the people I’ve cared for over the centuries.” A darkness clouded his eyes as he stared down at the tabletop. “It’s about all the lives they’ve ruined for their own gain. They -” Curling his fingers into a fist, his nostrils flared as he lifted his chin. “They need to be stopped and I simply cannot do it by myself..” 

“Well,” Oberyn tilted his head to the side and leaned forward in his seat. “You have our attention, Lord Tyrion, and-” He paused, shooting a glance over to Ellaria and registering the small nod she gave. “And, for now at least, you have our trust. Tell us what to do. We are listening.” 

The man blinked twice, a somewhat amused grin on his face. “Two thousand years ago, no one in Westeros would believe that I, Tyrion, scourge of House Lannister, would one day serve as Champion for the renowned warrior Oberyn Martell, but here we are.” 

You could practically feel Oberyn’s eyes roll, and despite the seriousness of the situation, had to bite back another laugh.“We will see about that. Talk.” 

And then, without further delay, Tyrion did.

Holy shit. 

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the counter’s edge and your weight leaned over them. The water still ran from the tap into the basin of the sink and you let it, despite having finished splashing your face and the back of your neck minutes earlier. The possible reality of what Tyrion had spent the last forty five minutes positing sent a spike of hope and adrenaline through you, and you tightened your fingers on the ledge, eyes widening.

Holy shit, this could really… You watched the pink tip of your tongue flick out between your lips to wet them, and then blew out a breath. No. This is going to work. 

Through the door you could hear the rest of the group talking, a boisterous laugh that sounded like Tyene’s breaking through the jumble of voices. It seemed like everyone else had also recognized the very real chance that they had to end the feud once and for all, a light hum of positivity almost palpable in the apartment since their unlikely ally revealed his plan. And as much as you knew that you shouldn’t get your hopes up too high, it was hard not to. 

Because it’s perfect. Tywin and Cersei… they’ll never see it coming. 

Tyrion had explained exactly how to catch them by surprise, and you had to admit it was good. As he had said in regards to the types of responsibilities that his father saw fit to delegate to him while his siblings were handed lofty positions within the Golden Lion corporation, this time around he had been tasked with overseeing the retrofitting and maintenance of the sewage, plumbing and electrical systems in all of the company’s properties. The literal shit end of the stick, he had joked. 

But while it had certainly been meant to slight him, Tyrion had taken the job seriously. 

It was boring work, far below his intelligence and capabilities. But he looked at it as he did all things - an opportunity to gain more knowledge than he had previously. He started by acquiring the blueprints of every building - offices, residential, recreational, commercial - that the company owned, familiarizing himself with the systems that were already in place, and reaching out to private contractors that would be able to give him suggestions and estimates on the work that needed to be done. 

For years he picked his way through each project, two more springing up whenever he completed one. Most of what he came across was to be expected when dealing with old buildings. Pipes that needed to be replaced, circuits and fixtures that needed rewiring to comply with modern energy and safety standards. But when one of the blueprints revealed the existence of a hidden vault in the sub-basement level of one of their California research facilities, he knew that he had stumbled on something that his father had no idea he had handed him - the location of the blood vials that allowed their lineage to repeat itself. 

Until then, Tyrion had always been kept in the dark about the whereabouts of the original Lannister DNA. Whether it was because they didn’t trust him to know that information or simply didn’t want him to have it so that they could keep the upper hand, he wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter once he had that blueprint in front of him, because that was the moment when he realized that the shit end of the stick had for once turned into solid gold. 

Knowing where the vials were kept, though the most important piece of the puzzle, didn’t solve it completely, however. The vault was guarded at all times by Gold Cloak security, and Tyrion was well aware that his strengths did not include fighting. So for a few months he sat on the information, continuing to oversee sewage and electrical projects in other buildings while he thought about how to proceed. 

“But then you turned up looking for Gregor at that costume party, Prince Oberyn,” Tyrion had stated, “and it dawned on me. As bright and as big as the Dornish sun, it dawned on me that you and your companions were exactly who I needed to help me put an end to this.” 

Aside from the fact that you and Oberyn had nearly died following your encounter with the Mountain, it was almost as though the stars were aligning. 

With the Lannisters unsure of where Oberyn was or what state he was in, it was the right time to strike. They likely knew that Ellaria would be with him if he was still alive, because they were aware of the bond between Others and their Children. But they had no idea that Tyene and Toban were also there - nor did they think you were still alive. Because most would have killed me to survive.

“And that gives us an advantage, my friends, because it allows us to be in two places at once.” 

He proposed a two-prong attack then. Since Oberyn and Ellaria had already planned to attend Joffery’s engagement party as a way to show Tywin and Cersei that he had survived the Mountain’s attack, Tyrion suggested that they attend his nephew’s actual wedding, too, citing the fact that all of the Lannisters and Gregor Clegane would be there in one place. At the same time as they were arriving at the wedding venue, you, Tyene and Toban would be entering the underground facility to dispatch the guards and destroy the vials before rejoining Oberyn, Ellaria and Tyrion for your victorious escape - and anything that came with it. 

You knew that Oberyn hated the idea of you being there at all, especially if he couldn’t protect you himself. But you also knew that he understood that it was the best option. He wouldn’t want to leave you alone in the apartment, and he wouldn’t want to send either Tyene or Toban out alone, either. The three of you staying together for that phase of the attack was the best way to keep everyone safe. 

And then it will be over.

Your heart thumped with the nervous, cautious hope of that thought. With one last check in the mirror, you finally turned the tap off and dried your face and hands. Tyrion was getting ready to leave as you stepped out into the hallway, the man telling you once again what a pleasure it was to meet you before wishing you a good night. You said the same back to him, still somewhat stunned that you’d met him in the first place, and then quietly made your way into the living room as everyone else said their goodbyes and finalized the next steps of their plan. 

Stretching your arms above your head to release a small pop from between your shoulder blades, you walked to the window and looked out over the city. Below you and all around you, thousands of people carried on with their lives entirely oblivious to the existence of the Others, and to users of blood magic like the Lannisters. It was absolutely wild to think that just a handful of days ago, you were one of them - and that without the chance encounter at the bar, you would have stayed one of them. 

There’s no going back now. 

You’d had that thought multiple times as your involvement with Oberyn grew deeper. But even as you peered out through the glass at the life you’d never fully be able to return to, another thought backed up the first one - stamped just as firmly in your mind. 

I wouldn’t want to even if I could. 

A pair of quiet footsteps entered the room, and without having to turn you knew who they belonged to. 

You did anyway, though, tearing your eyes away from the window to take him in. When you did, you couldn’t help sucking in a gasp at the sight. He was standing in the center of the room, holding his spear and looking at you, and no matter how stunning the view you’d just abandoned was, what you saw in front of you was far more breathtaking. 

Oh, wow. Look at him.

“Hi.” Clearing your throat, you moved away from the window and towards where he stood. “Did I hear Tyrion leave?”  

Oberyn took a breath, his whole chest rising before he let it back out with a nod. “You did.” 

You hummed, gesturing to the weapon in his hand. “Looks like you’re not wasting any time getting into things.” 

“Ellaria was right when she said that I need to practice with my spear.” His eyes wandered up the shaft of the weapon he held. They lingered fondly on the golden snake coiled around the base of the crooked blade before dropping back to you. “And I will admit that I’ve missed it.”

You nodded. She did say that. Oberyn’s free hand reached for yours and you gave it to him. “I’m sure it’ll be like riding a bike for you.” His thick fingers wrapped around your hand and he tugged you a step closer. 

“Will you come up to the roof with me? There will be more space up there for me to familiarize myself with the movements again, and -” the sound of voices from the foyer carried down the hall, Oberyn’s gaze flicking over his shoulder momentarily. “And at this time of night it will be quiet. So we can talk more. About -” 

“Yes.” The word was out of your mouth in nothing flat. Is he kidding? Of course I want to see that. Your excitement must have been written on your face, because you watched as his expression turned to one of amusement. There’s no hiding it, not from him. You gave him a sheepish shrug. “This apartment is nice, Oberyn. But if you think I would rather stay down here knowing what you’re doing up there?” You scoffed and shook your head. “Absolutely not.” No way I’m missing that, especially if he wants me to be there. “Besides.” You stepped closer and pulled your hand free from his hold so that you could place your palm against his chest. “We definitely have more to talk about.”

“We do.” He leaned in, tongue swiping over his lips as he brought his hand up to your cheek. You felt your heart skip off rhythm and caught the glint in his eyes as he noticed, too. His hum lulled your eyes shut, but before he could close the distance and kiss you, someone else entered the room with a snort. 

“You two do know that there are bedrooms with doors in this apartment, don’t you?” 

Swallowing, you froze and opened your eyes as Tyene breezed into the living room, your face warming rapidly even though you knew she was just fucking with you. Immediately confirming that to be true, she smirked and tossed you a wink as she crossed the room to sink into one of the plush armchairs, a glossy magazine in hand. 

Oberyn straightened up but didn’t move away from you, instead drawing you closer to his side even as he turned to face the other woman. “We are aware.” He cocked his head to the side, lowering the spear and using it to indicate the magazine Tyene held. “Surely there is more stimulating reading material available here than -” The pages crinkled as Tyene shifted her grip on it to give him the finger, her eyes rolling playfully as she did. Oberyn grinned then, bringing the weapon back to its original position. “I’m actually glad that you walked in when you did, Tyene. I was going to come find you if you hadn’t.” 

“Oh?” She opened the magazine and scanned the first few pages, deciding which article to read. Four hundred years old and she’s still a typical teenager when it comes to him. 

“I was going to ask if you were up for a few rounds of sparring.” That got her attention far more than whatever she’d chosen to read - you could tell from the way that her shoulders lifted, chest expanding with an unnecessary intake of breath. You knew Oberyn saw it, too, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards before he spoke again. “It has been a long time since we have trained together.” 

You blinked, your own excitement to see him in action growing at the thought of getting to watch the two of them practicing their combat skills with each other. Oh, this is going to be something. 

“Sure.” Without lifting her eyes from the magazine that she was reading, Tyene tilted her head as she spoke. “But I’ll give you some time to warm up first, Oberyn.” She flipped the page, lifting a brow in an attempt to feign mild interest at whatever headline was scrawled atop the new one. A slight smirk that she couldn’t contain curved her lips as she turned another page. “Let you shake out the rust before I -”

The rich, full sound of his warm laughter pulled your focus back to his face. Small creases formed around his eyes, stretching out like sun rays as his smile pushed his cheeks higher.  “Easy, little snake.” He warned her with the arch of an eyebrow. “Never forget who taught you how to strike.” 

“I could never.” Tyene grinned, adjusting her position to settle more deeply into the armchair. Crossing her legs, she cocked her head to the side. “But you shouldn’t forget that part of what you taught me was that there is always more to learn.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Like you said, it’s been a long time since we’ve trained together. I might have picked up a thing or two since then.” 

Oberyn chuckled, his shoulders lifting slightly. The gleam in his dark eyes was playful and teasing, but in it you also saw pride and affection for Tyene, the expression tugging at your heart. They mean so much to each other.  “Good.” He nodded. “I’m counting on it.”  

“See you in an hour, then.” With that, Tyene went back to skimming the magazine that was resting in her lap, and Oberyn let go of your waist, his hand once again wrapping around yours. 

He led you into the hall, the long space empty and silent. But I just heard  them talking. Where’s - Before you could finish your thought though, Toban stepped out from the bedroom closest to the front door, a relaxed smile on his face that seemed to round the edges of his square jaw. 

“Did I hear you and Tyene discussing a sparring session, Oberyn?” He crossed his arms casually over his chest, his emerald eyes moving with interest from Oberyn’s spear to your face. You felt his gaze linger on the mark on your throat, his chin angled slightly so that he could see it more clearly. It didn’t make you uncomfortable exactly, but you wondered why he was so fixated on it. He saw it as soon as he met me. Noticed it right away. You blinked. And as far as I know it hasn’t changed, so…  why does he keep - He brought his eyes back up to look directly at the man beside you as he continued. “And if so, would you mind if I joined you?” 

Oberyn’s grip on your hand tightened, and you knew that the other man noticed even though he didn’t react. “You did hear that.” His tone wasn’t quite clipped, but it lacked the jovial quality that you heard when he spoke to Tyene or Ellaria. I really need to know more about them. “And if you would like to join us, Toban, then I will certainly not stop you.” Toban’s smile widened as Oberyn’s eyebrows came together in question. “Where is Ellaria?”

Dropping his arms, Toban used one hand to indicate the front door. “She decided to follow Tyrion home, to make sure that the rest of the Lannisters did not have him followed here.” Smart. “She said she would be taking a longer route back in case anyone happened to be watching.” He lowered his hand to his side and tilted his head as he shrugged. “But with the Mountain still healing from his encounter with you, I doubt they would risk sending anyone else.” 

Oberyn let out a huff. “Let’s hope you are right.” He tapped the end of the spear shaft on the tiled floor. “But either way it’s best to be prepared.” Not waiting for a response, he took a step towards the door. “I am -” His eyes flicked to you and warmed significantly compared to the way he looked at Toban. “We,” he corrected himself, giving your hand another squeeze and a gentle pull, “are heading to the roof now, but Tyene is planning on coming up in about an hour. If you would like to join us then, you are welcome to, of course.” 

“Alright. See you in an hour, then.” Toban gave the two of you a single nod, watching as you stepped out the front door. 

You heard the lock click into place behind you, and then you and Oberyn were alone in the building’s hallway, heading for the elevators. Stepping into the car beside him, you watched as he pressed the button for the roof. But as the doors closed, meeting in the middle to form a solid, reflective surface, your eyes caught on the tip of Oberyn’s spear, and something occurred to you that hadn’t before. 

“Wait, are -” When you looked up at him, you found that he was already looking down at you with curiosity. I can’t believe I’m just realizing this, but… “Oberyn, are you going to use real weapons to spar with Tyene and Toban?” 

Oberyn grinned. “We are. Tyene fights with a pair of daggers, and Toban favors a longsword.” 

Your eyes widened. The same as the Mountain. “But…” Shaking your head, you furrowed your brow in confusion. “Isn’t that dangerous? What if you actually cut each other? I mean, I know you all can heal pretty damn fast, but doesn’t it take a lot out of you to do that? Wouldn’t… you’d all have to drink after that, to replenish. And -”  

Letting out a chuckle, Oberyn leaned over and laid a kiss to your temple. What’s so funny? “It won’t be a problem.” You felt his lips linger, curving into a smile before he pulled away to look at you again. “You are very considerate, but you don’t need to worry.” He dropped your hand then, plunging his own into his pocket to pull out a small brown glass bottle. “Poison is not the only thing that I tip my blades with, contrary to my reputation.” Giving the bottle a shake, he offered it to you. 

You turned it over in your hand, a viscous liquid sloshing inside of it. He wouldn’t have handed it to me if it was something dangerous. “What is this?” 

“That,” Oberyn stated, a hint of pride in his tone, “is my own creation.  I learned to make it in my time at the Citadel. It creates a protective barrier between a weapon and the skin, so that we can train freely without worrying about the consequences. With this on my blade, I won’t do more damage than a butter knife would.” That’s so smart. He shrugged. “And for us? Cuts that shallow will close almost immediately.” 

The light above the door flashed to let you know that you’d made it to the top, the car coming to a stop beneath your feet. You handed the bottle back to Oberyn and followed him out into the small enclosed space that led out onto the rooftop. 

“Does it only work for you? What would happen if a -” You stopped yourself from saying the word human. It made the difference between the two of you seem far larger than it felt, and you didn’t want to draw attention to that fact - especially after Tyrion’s comment on how fragile mortals were. “What would happen if I got cut?” 

“That will not happen.” His response was immediate, a slight edge to his tone, but then he sighed and answered your question more accurately. “But if it did, you would feel it. It probably would not go deep enough to require stitches, but it would bleed.”

Even discussing the unlikely possibility of you being hurt seemed to cause him distress, so you steered the conversation in a different direction. “Well then I’ll be sure to watch from a distance.” You winked at him as he stepped ahead of you to open the glass door that led out into the patio area. “I’m looking forward to seeing you in action.” 

The night air carried a breeze that tousled his hair, the moonlight catching the silvery strands hidden in his dark curls. He flashed a grin, one that he knew damn well would make you suck in a breath. “Then I will try not to disappoint.” 

You scoffed through a smile then, shaking your head as you walked over to the railing. Looking back at him over your shoulder, you rolled your eyes over the top of your smile-raised cheeks. “Not possible, Oberyn.” 

You let out a breath as you returned your gaze to the city lights and the moonlit sky, but you turned back to face him when he spoke your name. “I need to move some of these tables and chairs out of the way. If I am going to spar with Tyene and with -” you noticed the tick of his jaw as it tightened. “With Toban, I need more space.” He took a step closer to you, reaching for your right hand. “Will you hold this for me while I do that?” 

Hold wha- oh. Before the question was even half formed in your thoughts, he was lifting your hand up to curl around the shaft of his spear. Holy shit, I’m holding… he’s letting me… You sucked in a breath as you felt how smooth the wood was beneath your palm, Oberyn’s hand sliding yours into place and then curling your fingers into a secure grip. Making sure that the blunt end was still flush with the ground, he completely covered your hand with his own, bringing the other to your waist. 

“Tyene was not joking when she mentioned how sharp I kept this blade,” he said, eyes flicking from where they were locked with yours up to the tip of the spear. You followed his gaze as moonlight struck the edge of it, the steel glinting lethally against the darkness. “Hold it just like that.” Dropping both arms back to his sides, he took a step back and tilted his chin downwards before lifting it slowly in appraisal. Your breath caught as you watched something just as deadly as the blade flash mischievously in his eyes. “That looks good in your hands.” 

His comment, combined with the way he was looking at you - head cocked at an angle, the tip of his tongue sliding along the seam of his lips - made your heart skip again. The lift of one cheek higher into his eye as his grin grew told you that he was aware of the change, too. Of course he is. 

You let out a breath and licked at your lips, head shaking side to side as Oberyn turned to start moving chairs out of his way. “Maybe.” He looked over at you again, arching one eyebrow as he lifted a side table and stacked it on top of another one. “But it’s much more useful in yours.” I’d cut my own damn head off if I tried to do anything more than hold this. 

“I’m after a few lessons you would be able to make use of it.” You watched him stack another set of tables. “Perhaps one day soon I will get the chance to teach you a few things.” Oh. That would be… Your heart pounded at the thought of Oberyn standing directly behind you, placing your hands on the shaft, directing the motion of your hips as he showed you how to step and thrust for the best angle of attack. Fuck. “For now though, I’m -” He walked over to the sectional patio couch and bent down to place his hands on the cushions. Shooting you a wink over his shoulder, he continued. “I am very happy to look.” 

You shook your head, breath coming through your nose in an amused exhale. That makes two of us. Keeping your eyes on his back, you watched as he pushed the furniture towards the railing, taut muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an incorrigible flirt, Prince Oberyn?” 

Straightening up, he laughed, the sound rich and warm. A few days ago I didn’t think I’d ever get to hear that sound again. “I may have heard that before.” He shrugged, lips dipping into a false frown before lifting again. “One or two… thousand times.” 

Your free hand came to your hip as you watched him measure out the space he’d just cleared in footsteps. “I bet that’s an understatement.” 

Seemingly satisfied with the area, Oberyn held up one finger and turned with a sweeping step, closing the distance until he stood directly in front of you. “Perhaps. But it is a good thing that I am so incorrigible.” His left hand rose to curl around the spear, just below where you held it so that your pinky was stacked atop his pointer finger. With a grin, he looped his right arm through the angle of your bent elbow and wound it around your back. “Otherwise -” Palm splaying along your spine, he used it and your shared grip on the spear to pull you closer. “We may have never met.” 

Without hesitation, you leaned in to kiss him. The hand on your hip came up to rest against his cheek as his plush lips parted to accept yours. Despite the fact that you had been the one to initiate it, you sucked in a breath as he kissed you back, still not fully used to the rush that came with it. I’m not sure I ever will be. Trusting that he had a firm enough grip on the weapon, you let it go and brought your right hand up to the other side of his face and around to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

The second you tightened your grip on his curls, a husky groan slipped through his kiss. You smiled against his lips at the knowledge that you pulled that sound from him so easily. “I’m glad we did, Oberyn.” 

He rested his forehead against yours as he swept his thumb along your spine. “So am I.” 

As much as you would have loved to stand there in his hold all night, you knew that under the current circumstances - the impending confrontation with the Lannisters and Gregor and all the preparation that would have to go into taking them down - you couldn’t. 

You had gone up to the roof so that Oberyn could train, but also so that the two of you would have the chance to talk about things in private. And there are things I need to ask him before Tyene and Toban get here, so… You sighed and pulled away, letting one hand fall back to your side, the other reaching for the spear again. 

He seemed to come to the same conclusion. “I guess I should get started, hmm?” 

You nodded, eyebrows coming together as you swallowed. “Can I ask something? Before…” He tilted his head in question as you trailed off. “Before Toban comes up, I -” His expression flickered slightly at the mention of the other man. Yeah, that’s what I need to know about. You sighed. “Oberyn, I can tell there’s tension between the two of you, and I’m sure there’s a reason for that. And if you want to tell me about it later? I’ll gladly listen.” He nodded once. “But for now, before I spend any time with him, is there anything I need to know? Anything you don’t want me to say? Or…”

Your words trailed off as Oberyn’s hands came up to rest on your biceps, palms rubbing up and down gently. “You do not need to hold anything back from Toban Dayne.” He rolled his eyes before letting go of your arms and reaching forward to finally relieve you of the spear. “I know he will not hold anything back from you.” 

Is that… a good thing? You heard the clank of wood against concrete as he set the weapon down, leaning it against the arm of the couch. “I know you must trust him or else he wouldn’t be here.” Your shoulders rose in a small shrug. “I just figured… if there were any… uncomfortable topics to avoid, I should know about them.” 

“I appreciate you asking, but there are no secrets, and I would  never presume to tell you what you can or cannot say to anyone.” He brought both hands back to your body then, one resting at your waist. The other he raised to your throat, fingertips just grazing the mark and causing the skin to tingle. “All I ask is that you give me a chance to explain anything he tells you.” Oberyn let out a sigh. “I do trust Toban. He and I have not always seen eye to eye on things, but ultimately we are on the same side.” 

That was good enough for you. For now, anyway. “Alright.” Nodding, you licked your lips and let them curve into a smile as his hand came to rest on the side of your neck. “In that case?” You tilted your head towards his spear. “I think it’s time for you to show me what you can do with that.” 

He said your name then, eyes flashing as he winked at you. “It would be my pleasure.” 

You focused on the movement of Oberyn’s hands - on the way his grip changed as his wrists twisted intentionally over one another to create the twirling motion. There was a quiet thunk every time the ring on his thumb made contact with the wood, his fingers curling around it with the same dexterity that a musician would use to coax a melody from an instrument. He hasn’t even held it in thousands of years but… A shaft of silver moonlight sifted through the clouds and caught the beveled edge of the crooked blade to make it glint against the night. But it’s like he never put it down. It’s natural.   

As that thought crossed your mind though, you felt a tight pang of sadness in your chest. No. The clouds covered over the moon again as he went through another pass of the form he was practicing. Drawing one leg up onto your seat, you frowned, lips pulling down and to the side. 

It would feel even more natural for him if he were doing this in the daylight. He had first learned to fight on the sands of Dorne, with the bright, unfettered sun warm on his skin as he repeated the techniques enough times to commit them to muscle memory. This - an LA rooftop in the middle of the night - couldn’t have been more different from that. 

You sighed, your eyes flicking down to the opened buttons of his white Henley, where the absence of his gold pendant was noticeable. The cool autumn breeze brought a chill into the air that make you shiver, and you shrugged more deeply into the sweater that you wore. You tried to remind yourself that it was only temporary - that he would be able to walk in the sunlight again soon, the intricately cast medallion once again hanging from his neck. He’ll need it back for the engagement party, so…  just a few more days.  

Blinking, you switched your attention to his forearms, watching them flex as he directed the spearhead to control the balance of the weapon. His feet slid almost silently over the concrete as he moved backwards three paces before turning with a wide but calculated sidestep so that he faced you directly. Without missing a beat, he raised one eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, grin climbing up that cheek. 

“So what do you think?” Breaking from the repetitive movements, he quickly changed his grip so that both hands were wrapped around the middle of the spear’s handle, and then lunged, thrusting the point of it only a few inches from where you sat. “Do I stand another chance against the Mountain?” 

As much as you hated the thought of him going toe to toe with that monster again, you had to admit that the fact that Oberyn would have his spear - and his armor - this time around made you far less worried. You let your lips curve into a small smile, and were rewarded as the one on his face reached his eyes, their depths shining. 

“I think that if you had this spear with you at that costume party, Oberyn?” You stood then, one hand coming up to gently push the end of the weapon aside so you could safely close the distance between the two of you. Shaking your head, you dropped your arm back to your side as he pulled back and set the flat end of the spear against the ground. “Things would have gone very differently for all of us.” 

He hummed, his free hand reaching for your hip as his eyes locked with yours. “I am inclined to agree with you.” 

Another breeze swept through the space between your bodies to play with the tassel hanging from the spear and ruffle the fringe of hair that fell over his forehead. It’s chilly tonight. You took a breath in through your nose, the crisp autumn air filling your lungs as you placed both of your hands on his chest. But he’s not cold. 

You smiled at that thought and stepped even closer, flattening your forearms against him to soak up the warmth coming through his shirt. The fingertips of your left hand slipped up and over his collar to glide over his skin. He’s not cold at all.

When he spoke again you felt his words vibrating against your palms where you touched him. “Fighting with a weapon like this one gives me better control of the distance between myself and my opponent. It lets me keep them at a greater length than a sword or a dagger would allow.” That makes sense. 

You saw the flash of his grin and the mischievous twinkle in his eye that told you something was coming, but you were still unprepared for how swiftly he moved. Gasping, you felt him release your hip and swing the spear around behind you, using the same hand that he’d just had resting near your waist to instead grip the shaft of the weapon. With the pole pressed to your back, he used it to pull you flush against him, his arms caging you between his torso and the polished wooden handle. “Or…” He flicked his eyes down to your chest, watching the dramatic rise and fall before tilting his head to speak directly into your ear. “I can keep them close.” 

Your heart skipped as his teeth raked your skin, and though it didn’t seem possible, you melted into him even more. He’s never going to play fair with me, is he? You wound your arms up and around his neck and as he tilted his head back to look at you once more, you realized something and it made you grin. That means I don’t have to, either. 

“Oh, is that what I am, Oberyn?” You raised one eyebrow, right hand sliding into his hair to make a loose grip. “An opponent?” Tightening your fist so that your knuckles dug lightly at his scalp, you pulled a groan from him that made you both grin. “Someone you need to fight?” Oberyn stared at you for a few moments before responding with a slow shake of his head. 

“No.” He took a step backwards, eyes falling to your lips as his own curved into a grin, and despite the fact that he had somehow put more warmth in the word than you would have thought possible, you shivered. The handle of the spear pressed gently into your back, Oberyn using it to corral you even closer. Another step brought his calves in contact with the cushion of the L shaped patio lounge, and you sucked in a breath as he rolled the length of smooth wood down into the dip where your spine met your pelvis. “I can think of many things that I would rather do with you than fight.” He lowered himself into a seated position, urging you to follow. “Much better reasons to keep you close.” 

“Good.” Your knees sunk into the cushion on either side of his lap, but you didn’t settle your weight on his thighs. “Because I wouldn’t last a single second against you.”

He chuckled, the low rumble from his chest accompanying a wolfish grin. “Do not sell yourself short.” His rings clanged against the wooden spear as he tightened his grip on it to force your weight down on top of him, a startled gasp slipping from your lips as you felt him solidly beneath you. Though he wasn’t hard it didn’t take much to imagine what it would feel like when he was. Fuck. You nearly moaned, heat flooding your entire body as he lifted his hips with you still straddled over them. “I think you will last more than a few seconds when we -” 

The sound of a throat clearing cut the rest of his words short, and you froze as Tyene’s voice hit your ear. 

“When I said you should warm up with your spear, Oberyn -” You slowly turned your head to watch her saunter over, your heart thudding wildly in your ears at the slight embarrassment of being caught. Her left eyebrow rose as she used one finger to indicate the two of you and the position that you were in before crossing her arms over her chest and sticking one hip out. “This is not what I meant.” 

Shit. I… she’s right, I should… he needs to be taking this seriously and - You tried to lift yourself from Oberyn’s lap, but though he’d set his weapon aside at Tyene’s arrival, his hands kept you firmly in place, both of them flattened against the small of your back. 

“You have your methods for preparing for a fight, little snake.” Oberyn flexed his fingers so they dug lightly into you, and then he let his palms slip around to the tops of your thighs with a shrug. “And I have mine.” 

Mine. 

You took a breath, letting the word wash over you, warmth dropping into your belly as it did. You would gladly be his pre-fight preparation. You would gladly be his anything, if given the chance.

I am yours, Oberyn. 

Leaving his hands where they lay, and continuing his conversation, Oberyn glanced over Tyene’s shoulder. “Where is Toban? He said he wanted to-“ 

“Ellaria’s back.” Oh, good. Though you weren’t truly worried about Ellaria running into anything she couldn’t handle, you were relieved to know she’d made it back safely - and without being followed. “He was just talking to her, and then he said he’ll be right up.” 

“We’ll have to get started without him, then.” He gently tapped your leg and you shifted off of his lap and onto the cushion of the lounge furniture. Pulling the bottle he’d shown you earlier out of his pocket, he handed it to Tyene. “Get yourself prepared, and then show me what you’ve learned since our last dance.” 

She took the bottle with a flourish, unscrewing the cap and pulling one of two daggers from her belt. “Gladly.” 

You watched the two of them in wide-eyed wonder as they twirled and lunged, dodged and clashed their weapons together under the moonlight. 

A few times they had nicked one another, and you witnessed the substance that Oberyn had crafted work in real time as long cuts that should have gone much deeper appeared and vanished over their forearms and sides. The blades left a few slashes in their clothing - Tyene had a tear across the front of her shirt and Oberyn’s left sleeve was shredded - but no actual harm remained on their bodies. That’s incredible. 

The door to the patio opened behind you, but you kept your eyes on the scene in front of you until the other man was standing right next to where you sat. Though Oberyn had told you about his weapon of choice, it still came as somewhat of a shock to see the sword that he carried. Going through customs at the airport must be interesting for them. 

“Looks like you’ve got front row seats.” Toban spoke your name, nodding towards where Oberyn and Tyene were circling each other a few feet away. I sure do. He blinked away from the fight and glanced down at you, sharp eyes focused on your face. “Mind if I sit?”

Crossing your left leg over the right, you gestured to the cushions beside you. “Of course not, Toban, there’s plenty of room.” 

He let out a sigh as he lowered himself onto the couch, a relaxed look of contentment settling over his features. “Thank you.” Returning his attention to the action, he tilted his head closer to yours. “Did I miss anything exciting?” 

You mean aside from two expertly skilled immortal warriors engaged in a fight? “Um…” You cleared your throat. “They uh, they just got started a few minutes ago, so-” 

Before you could finish your response the clang of metal on stone rang out through the air, one of Tyene’s daggers clattering to the ground. “I’ve taken one of your fangs, little snake,” Oberyn chided while deftly twirling the spear back to ready position. “Plan your next strike carefully.” 

Tyene huffed, tossing her remaining dagger from her left hand to her right. “What makes you think I haven’t planned it already?” 

The soft scrape of their bootsoles on the pavers signaled the end of their banter as they began circling each other again. Toban chuckled under his breath. “Guess I got here just in time for the good part, hmm?” 

Oberyn used the blunt end of the spear to knock the weapon Tyene dropped further from her reach, and you exhaled through your nose in a huff of laughter. “Guess you did.” You glanced over at the man next to you as he stretched out his long legs, casually stacking his ankles and folding his arms over his chest. “Is Ellaria coming up, too?” 

Still watching the dueling pair in front of you, Toban clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No. She said she has other preparations that need to be handled before the engagement party.” That makes sense. I’m sure there’s…  He shifted his focus to you, eyes lingering on the mark on your throat before coming up to shoot a wink at you. “That means she’s online, shopping for something to wear to this party.”

You weren’t expecting that, and the image of Ellaria Sand stretched out in bed or sprawled on the couch in the apartment downstairs while she scrolled fashion sites on her phone made you laugh. Good for her. Before you could comment, though, Toban was speaking again. 

“Do you know what it means?” He tilted his head to the side, focus slipping down to your throat, and you knew he was talking about your mark. “Did he…” A crease formed between his brows, and even in the dark you could see something close to concern flicker in Toban’s eyes. “What did Oberyn tell you about that mark he gave you?” 

Your heart pounded against your ribs as your fingers came up to absently brush the spot just under your jawline. I guess this is what he meant about Toban not holding back. Glancing across the patio, you saw - and felt - as Oberyn’s eyes darted to where you were sitting. There was no doubt that Oberyn could hear every word of your conversation, even over the sound of his blade clashing with Tyene’s. And about there not being any secrets. 

“He…” Fingers curling towards your palm, you dropped your hand away from your jawline and nodded. “Yes.” You cleared your throat, watching as Oberyn spun away, lifting the spear over his head to block Tyene’s attack. “He told me that it means that I’m under his protection. That none of… of your kind will hurt me in any way because of it.” 

Your attention shifted back to the man beside you as he spoke. “That is true.” Lifting one eyebrow, his mouth quirked to the side in a smirk. “I do not know every Other who walks the Earth, but I do know that not a single one of them would dare cross the Red Viper.” 

As if on cue, Toban’s words were punctuated by the shing of steel on stone as Oberyn sent Tyene’s second dagger flying from her hand. It was the third round in a row that he’d bested her, and the quickest. And this is just practice against someone he knows and trusts. “But I -“ Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips. “I know it means more to him than that.” 

Using the blade end of his spear, Oberyn scooped one of Tyene’s fallen weapons up, flipping it in one fluid motion to catch it by the hilt. “One more?” He asked as she retrieved the other one. “Or have you shown me all your new tricks yet?” 

Tyene’s response came in the form of the finger and a slew of what you assumed were swears in Valyrian. Laughing as she shook her head, she snatched the blade back from him. But as she turned to take the ready position, you caught the way Oberyn looked over at you - his eyes focused on yours, lips pressed together, a small shadow darkening his brow as his forehead wrinkled slightly. Without the moonlight shining on his hair, you might have missed the small nod of his head, encouraging you to keep going. 

“Do you?” Toban’s voice pulled your attention back to him.

Blinking, you licked your lips. “Yes, I do. He told me -” You sucked in a breath as the weight of what you were about to say dropped into your chest with the same heft that it did when Oberyn explained things to you. “He told me it’s been 400 years since he’s done this. And he told me why, too.” 

Toban hummed. “So you understand how important you are to him then? What it means that he has broken 400 years of denying himself that bond? For you?” 

It means it’s going to devastate him when I die. You swallowed, trying to rid the bitter taste of that thought from your tongue. But it also means… “It means that he wants me in his life. For however long is possible. And I -” You kept your eyes on Oberyn, on the fluidity of his motion, the shine of his smile. “I want that, too.” 

“However long is possible?” Toban shifted in his seat so that he could look at you more fully, and though you wanted to continue to watch the sparring session, you sensed that the conversation you were having was heading for deeper waters. You turned three quarters of the way towards the man beside you as he went on. “You know by now that eternity is possible.” I do, but - “What would you say to eternity?” 

Your mouth went dry then, heart thudding hard against your ribs. I would say yes. I… there would be things I needed to take care of first, but I would say yes. It still scared you a little to know that that was how you felt about someone you had only known for such a short period of time. But it did nothing to change the facts. 

That wasn’t what you said, though. Instead, you shook your head. “It doesn’t matter, Toban, because he also told me that he can’t make that offer, and I understand why.” But you know that’s not what my first thought was, don’t you.

The emerald green eyes trained on you narrowed slightly. “Oberyn told you about the last person he gave his mark to.” That was a statement, and one that you had already confirmed, so you knew that there was something else coming. “But has he told you about Cameron?” 

Who? You knew that your expression answered for you, but you gave him one anyway with a slow shake of your head. “No.” 

“I see.” Toban nodded. “Well, let me fill you in. Cameron was someone that Oberyn had started to become close to. This was -” He tilted his head in thought for a few seconds. “Maybe a century ago? They traveled together, trained together. For a time they were inseparable. I think in some ways they were in love.” You listened closely. “But Oberyn remained resolute in his decision not to strengthen that bond by using his mark or by offering to change his companion until he was free of his quest for revenge and justice.” 

Without realizing it, you had lifted your fingers to brush at the space under your jaw. Your pulse thumped against the tips of them, as though reminding you that while Oberyn had broken half of his rules for you, you remained human, just like Cameron. And I’ll stay that way, because …

“At that time, like other times throughout our lives, we had made enemies of some different groups within the Others.” Toban explained. “One group from Braavos, in particular. I knew that they would stop at nothing to find ways to hurt us. They had already tried to kill one of Ellaria’s Children, and it was only a matter of time before they sought a way to deliver a blow to Oberyn, too. Cameron would have been the easiest target for them, and he had been left unprotected.” 

You gasped quietly. Oh, Oberyn.  “Did they… did they get to him?” 

Toban sighed then, a look crossing his face that you couldn’t quite place. It was somewhere between sorrow and sympathy, a touch of regret reaching his eyes and setting his handsome features into a frown. “They did not. Because I stepped in first.” 

In the distance, you heard Tyene swear as Oberyn’s spear slipped at her thigh, and when you looked over you saw that he was watching you and Toban while he waited for her to reset. But he wanted me to talk to Toban, so… You returned your attention to the other man. “What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean I gave Cameron my mark of protection to keep him safe from our enemies. For Oberyn. I acted so he would not have to suffer that loss, too.” 

That shocked you. It was a selfless thing, a generous gift. But you knew that the story did not have a happy ending. Not for Oberyn, at least. “That’s…” You shook your head. “Did it work?” 

Toban raised his eyebrows and nodded. “It did. It kept Cameron safe. Kept him alive.” He sighed again, the action making his broad shoulders sag. “But it also changed Cameron’s feelings toward Oberyn. It hurt him to know that despite their connection, he wouldn’t offer the same thing that I had given him. Soon, Cameron spent less and less time with Oberyn, and more time with me. Until one day he…” Toban brought a hand to his head and smoothed it back over his hair. “He asked me to change him.” Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. “And I said yes.” 

“Oh.” Your voice was small but you knew he heard you. You knew Oberyn heard you, too. So that’s why… that’s part of why their relationship is so… 

You heard Toban speak your name then, and you blinked, focusing on him once more. “I am glad it will not be the same with you.” He cautiously raised his hand towards your neck, and you let him graze his fingers over your mark without knowing what to expect. It didn’t feel the same as it did when you or Oberyn touched it, and the contact didn’t linger, Toban withdrawing his hand and settling it back in his lap to clasp around the hilt of his sword. “I’m glad that he found you.” 

“I -” What? 

“Toban!” Tyene’s exasperated voice interrupted your response as she called to him from across the roof. “I’m tapping out. Softened him up for you though, so -” At that, Oberyn gave her a small shove, the woman stumbling but catching herself with quick footwork. 

“One second,” Toban responded, a grin curving his lips. He turned back to you. “It was a pleasure talking with you. I look forward to getting to know you more after all of this is over.” With that, he rose and made his way over to trade places with Tyene, who approached you just as Oberyn handed the bottle off to Toban so that he could coat his sword in the protective solution. 

You knew you must have had a wild look in your eyes from the way she studied you, but you couldn’t help it after everything Toban had just revealed. And as much as you wanted to stay and watch the two men train, you were relieved when Tyene cocked her head to the side and asked if you wanted to go back inside. 

“It’s cold out here,” she offered as an out, even though she knew the temperature had nothing to do with the things you were trying to process. “I’m gonna go take a hot shower in that big ass bathroom downstairs. There’s another one in the bedroom you’re staying in, too, if you wanted to -” 

Not even letting her get to the end of her suggestion, you stood. “Yeah.” You nodded. “That sounds really good, actually. Let me just -” You pointed towards where Oberyn and Toban were getting ready to square up. “I’ll let Oberyn know, and -” 

“Alright. I’ll wait for you.” She placed her hand on your shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze before  heading off in the direction of the small glass lobby that housed the elevator. 

Telling her you’d be right behind her, you pressed your lips together and made your way over to where Oberyn stood. As soon as he saw you in motion, he set down his spear and strode to meet you halfway. His large, warm hands came to rest at your waist the moment you were within his reach. “Are you alright?”

For a few seconds all you could do was stare up into the brown - almost obsidian - eyes that scanned your face. Eventually you nodded, one hand coming up to brush his windswept and tousled hair back into place. He sighed at your touch, leaning into it. “I am, Oberyn. That was just…” You shivered then, as much from the weight of your thoughts as from the night chill. Too much for anyone, and …  

He gave you a small smile that wasn’t quite sad, but didn’t light his face the way it usually did. “I know. This is a lot to take in. I promise I will explain everything to you tonight when we’re done here.” He flexed his fingers where he held you. “Go ahead inside and get warm and comfortable. We won’t be much longer.” 

Throat tight with a mix of emotions, all you could manage was a nod and a quiet “okay.” He leaned down to brush his lips against yours, and then he released you, turning back to where Toban stood waiting. 

Holy shit. 

On slightly shaky legs, you went to meet up with Tyene, the two of you taking the elevator down in near silence, until the light above the door indicated that you were almost back to your floor. 

“Hey. I'm glad you know, now,” she said, bumping you gently with her elbow. “How much you mean to him, I mean.” 

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Me too.” 

When you reached the apartment, Tyene turned to give you a brief hug before disappearing into one of the bedrooms. After standing in the hall for a few seconds to collect yourself, you did the same, suddenly desperate to be under the warm flow of water so that you could peel apart your thoughts and examine them in peace. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in the shower, but when you got out you felt as though you’d absorbed what Toban had told you as best as you could. Under the circumstances, anyway.

Changing into a pair of olive green sweats and a tan long sleeve shirt, you opened the slider door to the balcony off your bedroom and stepped back into the night. You were only alone out there for a few minutes, though. After the time you had taken to yourself you were happy to be back in his company - alone. 

“Outside again, hmm?” You heard the sound of the glass door rolling along its track as he pulled it shut after stepping out into the small space. “You’re not too cold?” 

Lips curving upwards, you continued to gaze out at the city below. “I like the view.” You shrugged and let out a sigh before pushing off the railing to turn to face him. “And I know you’ll keep me w -” 

A pair of arms wrapped around you from behind then, stopping your motion and keeping you facing forward. “My view is much better.” Though he spoke directly into your ear, you could feel his beard as it rasped over the skin of your neck, just below the line of your jaw. Sucking in a breath, you melted against his chest as you let it back out, his body heat seeping into your skin. “And I will keep you warm.” His hold on you tightened as he dragged his mouth over the invisible mark. “Very warm.” 

You shuddered at the sensation, eyelids falling closed and his name coming out in a gasp. That feels incredible. Reaching back with one hand to rake your fingers through his hair, you hummed as he left a slow, lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw before straightening up again. 

“I will need to go back inside before the sun comes up.” You felt his fingertips running up the length of your right forearm before sliding slowly back down. “But we can stay out here for as long as you want until then.” At Oberyn’s words, Toban’s mention of an eternity played back in your mind. 

“Okay,” you murmured, letting the hand that was in his hair come back around to the front of your body to rest over his arms where he held you. An eternity of this would be amazing, but for now … I’ll take tonight.

“And,” he tightened his hold then. “I would like to tell you about Cameron. Ask me anything you want to know.” 

“Everything,” you responded, leaning your head back against his chest. “I want to know everything, Oberyn.” 

Tag list reblogs coming soon! 

[waltzipow]

Would you do an insta one with deyna castellanos maybe they are in a long distance relationship

(not alot but just wanted to post something)

deynacastellanos just posted

liked by jillroord, ellieroebuck, eseme.morgan and 123,992 others deynacastellanos- signed and sealed

ellieroebuck_- so happy for you deyna <3 username1- what about y/n ^ username2- her carre is more inporment jillroord- lots of love to you username3- we will miss you username4- yes come to the us y/n.y/l/n- so proud of you baby ^ deynacastellanos- <3 ^ username5- wont work ^ username6- shut up usename7- what a signing eseme.morgan- will miss and love you, Dayna you will shine good luck

y/n.y/l/n just posted

Liked by chloekelly deynacastellanos. scarlett_camberos and 220,923 others y/n.y/l/n- date-night, flying, chloe tagged- @chloekelly, @deynacastellanos chloekelly- i do like some chlo chlo pops ^ y/n.y/l/n- yeah, we know username1- I thought Dayne was in the us ^ username2- old photos, or she wants over ^ username3- the Chloe one is old. Maybe it's just a camera roll thing deynacastellanos - need another date night ^ y/n.y/l/n- well your turn to fly username4- long distance would be a bitxh usernane5- think their old photos scarlett_camberos- why don't you move ^ y/n.y/l/n- ha, you wish

deynacastellanos just posted

liked by jbeattie91, capricedydasco, chloekelly and 203,882 others deynacastellanos- love my new home miss my old

jbeattie91- she a poet and did even know it username1- you think y/n will move???? ^ username2- nah, she doing too good a city capricedydasco- oh, i miss her as well, and I've only met her once ^ deynacastellanos- ha yeah you did love her username3- i miss them y/n.y/l/n- miss and love you to mi amor ^ deynacastellanos- <3 <3 chloekelly- mabye just come back

[saggitary]

Back with a lil TTTBU meta, here is all the mando'a words and phrases I've either found or I've made up for this fic! Let me know if you want a Togruti one as well for what I've found/made up!

(FYI some of this might be made up I honestly can't remember but like 99% is found from dictionaries online)

Words

aliit - family

ade - children

alor'ad - captain

al'verde - commander

dema'golka - monster

dini'la - insane

jetii - Jedi

naak - peace

ori'vod - older sibling

tebec - ammunition

vod - sibling (gender neutral)

vode - siblings (plural)

vod'ika - younger sibling

vor'e - thanks

Now onto the swears!

bantha-osik - bantha-shit

di'kut - idiot

haar'chack - damnit

haran - hell (literal, cosmic destruction)

jagyc - dick

kriff - general swear similar to fuck (I don't think this is actually mando'a however it pops up a lot so I am putting it hear)

mir'osik - smart shit

mir'sheb - smart ass

osik - shit

osik'la - shitty

osik'ika - little shit

osik'tengaara - shitshow

shab - fuck

shaba - fucking

shaba shebs - fucking ass

shaba'osik - fucking shit

shabbed - fucked

shabuir - motherfucker

sheb/shebs - ass

shebs'palon - asshole

Now with the sayings/sentences

This is where some things get a bit odd with me trying to sort out what words we have in the mando'a dictionary as well as congregations and configuration so they might not be 100% accurate!

ni'pel - I yield

osik’serim - shit aim

Sooran bic - suck it

Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum - I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal (Daily remembrance of those passed on)

ori’buyce, kih’kovid - all helmet, no head

Copaani mirshmure’cye, mir’shebs - are you looking for a smack in the face smartasses

Aalar’gar jate - you feeling good?

Kriffing jetti bal'val jaro - Kriffing Jedi and their death wish

Ja'hailir gar'joha vod - Watch your language brother

Aliit ori’shya tal’din - family is more than blood

nutenni te shab’laam - shut the fuck up

Rangi an’be vala - To hell with all of them

Vore entye - Thank you

Ba’gedet’ye - you're welcome

shab'rud bal mar'eyir dayn - fuck around and find out

Ni ori'haat bah've Maker al'verde ni'mav kyr'amur gar nearest meh'gar vurel nari'ibac tug'yc - I swear to the Maker commander I will kill you myself if you ever do that again

Ash nas'nuhoy'laam ba'te dush'eso be'te haav - Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed

-

There will def be more to come and I will likely need to make an updated one in a while but here we go for now!

tags! @snarkyfina @jarchvast-likearchvistbutthevast @bees-flowers

[long-claw]

recently finished the last 10 chapters of adwd in one day so i'd reach my reading goal for the year, here's a summary of the messages i sent to my friend that has only watched the show (spoilers ahead duh):

in reference to cersei's walk of shame: "grrm will not shut up about how saggy her tits are 😭"

"does she start crying and crawling at the end in the show i can't remember"

"also before her walk kevan came to talk to her about myrcella getting hurt and immediatly she was like: 'it was tyrion!! he did it!!'"

"kevan: 'no we know who did it-' cersei: 'it was tyrion!!'"

"meanwhile tyrion's narrowly escaping being eaten by lions in meereen she thinks way too highly of him"

found out ser barristion was in love with ashara dayne when he was like 45 and she was like 12-21 and said: "that's so ser jorah coded of him"

"i need this book to end i can't take this anymore"

"doran martell's son just tried to steal the dragons and got absolutely fried"

"oh dany's fucked off with drogon btw"

then proceeded to complain about dany fucking off for a few paragraphs

"i'm pretty sure i'm on jon's death chapter now so excuse me while i go cry"

*insert picture of me post heavy sobbing*

"'stick them with the pointy end' what if i told you i just fucking lost it"

sent a picture of a paragraph where dany is basically just shitting and said: "as if i didn't just read the most heart-breaking thing ever"

"in the same chapter as the shitting alone she also: got covered in ants while she slept and threw up 'green slime'"

"immediately followed up by a double varys homicide"

bonus from my friend:

"yeah he really thought dany shitting would keep us entertained for the next decade"

[kimberlyannharts]

Misc thoughts on issue #105 -

= This is the issue where pacing starts to get a little weird. Zack and Harturian Kid kind of get.....captured offscreen? Before the events of this issue? But then they also get rescued in this issue? Very weirdly plotted out

= This is also where the Zack/Trini romance starts and. I don't know. It's fine, I guess. I don't hate it like I hate Aisha/M/tt because there's at least some previous foundation to it compared to how Aisha/M/tt was out of fucking nowhere (except for that weird bit where Zack says out of nowhere that he asked Trini out in freshman year, something never brought up or even implied in GGPR) but it didn't....have to be a romance. And knowing that Melissa just pushed for it because she happens to ship it bugs me a bit. It definitely just feels like romance for the sake of having romance (which we don't need because this event is FULL OF ROMANCE)

= "the Omegas are more powerful than we are" shut up

= Billy's fall into the one who breaks the multiverse is also foreshadowed here in a case of dramatic irony (he tells Tommy he knows they can't give up hope or else they'll become monsters like the villains they fight - very clearly presented now by him doing the same thing Drakkon did.) We'll get more into that when we get to it

= I also like how Kim's presented as the leader of this little break-off group and called as such

= I also like how they bring back the "confuse him with moves he doesn't know" thing from Necessary Evil and the fight with Dayne because it's actually executed way more effectively and makes way more sense

= That Thunderzord combination with Yale's Zord is another instance of Zord designs in this event that are just bad. Why do they have to completely waste the idea of Yale having a quadruped Zord. You could make a cool centaur Zord out of that!!!!!!! I remember when this issue came out people were really complaining about this combo and yeah, it's still super bad. Why did the Thunderzords turn into pants

= I guess the Zack/Harturian Kid thing is okay too but it's hard to get too invested because I know this will be the only non-romance thing Zack gets and the ONLY thing Harturian Kid gets before he's so unimportant that the book can't even keep track if he's captured by Dark Specter or not

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter Fifteen of The One Condition Series | Chapter Sixteen

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: Pretty Thing and Din spend some time together on The Crest as they head to Daiyu

Notes: I'm back from my little break !! Sorry this was posted way later than I usually do ): This is finals week for me at my university and its safe to say I'm getting my ass beat. Anywayyyy I'm happy to be back and I hope everyone enjoys this chapter (: Feel free to comment !! Happy reading <3

Gar ganar haar haal, baar, bal runi akay haar oyu’baat hettir dayn: [gahr] [GAN-ar] [har] [hahl] [BAR-oor] [bahl] [roo-NEE] [ah-KAY] [har] [oy-YOO-baht] [HAYt-eer] [dain]

Mesh'la: [MAYSH`lah]

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You almost missed it. A small puff of air causes your hair to flutter. You stop crying and hold your breath. You could have imagined it. It could have just been the wind, but you wait for it again. You feel tiny strands of your hair dance around as another puff of air, accompanied by a heaving chest, makes itself known. 

“I’m stronger than I look, Sweetheart.”

“D-dad?”

“That’s what I’m t-told.”

Even at a time like this your father finds a way to crack a joke. He does his best to smile at you even though you are sure he is in indescribable pain. 

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You can see tears spilling from his eyes. “I should have done more to prevent this from happening. I just never thought-”

“This wasn’t something anyone could have predicted he would do.”

He closes his eyes and slowly nods his head; words getting progressively harder to articulate due to his loss of blood.

“T-the money. I hid it.”

“You what?”

“Under that tree that you two used to climb? It’s all there.”

You don’t know what to say. All you can do is stare blankly at him.

“Take it, baby…please…get far away from here.”

The clouds gathering in the night sky above the two of you finally break open. Rain begins to pour down all around. You place your forehead against your fathers and feel his last breath roll across your damp skin. You aren’t sure if it's the rain or your tears wetting your face at this point. You hold him close as you finally hear the inevitable blaster shot ring out from inside your house. You thank The Maker that your father isn’t alive to hear his wife's death be audibly confirmed. The front door slams open and shut again and you know you are the only living being in the house. Alden has fled the scene of his own horrific crime; his empty hands dripping with blood. 

When the rain threatens to drown you, you find the strength to push yourself to your feet. Your stomach still burns from where Alden rammed his foot into you. Enough logic remains in your body to know that your wound isn’t fatal, but you need to stop the bleeding. The rain makes your shirt sleeve harder to rip off, but the old fabric eventually gives to your will. You fashion it around your neck and hope that it has enough pressure to quell the bleeding for now. 

If you hadn’t lived here your whole life, finding the tree your father spoke of in this torrential downpour would have been impossible. You locate it and kneel before its protruding roots. You don’t even realize you have started digging until your fingers make contact with a wooden box. You numbly remove it from the muddy crevice it has been placed in, barely registering how raw your hands have become from clawing at the earth. 

When you open it you almost feel like laughing. Your body and brain are so exhausted from what has just transpired that nothing feels real. Staring back at you is the cause of your parents death, a.k.a. 50,000 credits. This small box is the reason you have no home to go back to, no family left, and no idea what to do next. 

You wake up feeling a bit relieved. The nightmare sequence is over…at least until it starts again. You are currently living in the next chapter of it you reckon. You made the choice to do something about the memories that plague you. You hired a bounty hunter, you traveled through space, you confronted Thuban, and now you are on your way to Alden. This is going to end. It has too. Din had set the nav for Daiyu, the second time now, late last night. You remember laughing as he hurried out of bed to get to the cockpit. He was muttering something about you ‘keeping the bed warm’ and him not needing another thruster blown out ‘on account of a simple disagreement’. 

He is sound asleep next to you now. His arms wrap around your body snuggly like ivy to a brick wall. You like being the first one awake. It gives you time to soak in this feeling; to live in the now. It also gives you time to reflect on what he said last night.

“Being with what is mine always makes me feel better.”

He called you his. Then he fucked you like you were his. He said it first with words and then with his body. A shiver of excitement rolls through you. You were his. His girl. His Cyar’ika. His sweet thing. You lift the arm that's around your waist up to your lips.

“Mine.”

You whisper and kiss his arm over and over again. Each kiss pressing the word deeper into his skin so it becomes ingrained there. All care for sounding insane and childish has flown out the window into hyperspace. You have never had anyone call you theirs before. You had never mattered that much to anyone in this way before. You were going to take full advantage of the feeling. If that means whispering your truth into his skin in the early hours of the morning, then so be it. 

“Wha’s tha’, pretty thing?” A groggy voice interrupts your personal incantation.

“It’s nothing,” you laugh nervously like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “I was just talking to myself.”

“You’re not getting off that easy.” His arms work in unison to bring you flush with his own body. A chin comes to rest on the top of your head and while you can’t see you know he is smiling. “I’m curious to know what was being said as my arm got kissed so ardently.”

“I was saying … ‘mine’.”

“Mine?”

“Yes.” 

“And what would you be calling yours, Cyar’ika?” His voice sounds so sultry when he asks.

“More like who would I be calling mine.”

“I’m listening.”

“You. I was calling you mine. Is that okay?”

He answers your timid question by placing his hand on your chin and tilting your face up to his. His lips engulf yours quickly. Your two bodies melt together easily as he moves his hand to cup the side of your face; as if he is afraid you will slip away. You can’t help but let a moan slip at his sudden action. You didn’t see it coming, in more ways than one. Your lips are always so pliant for him. They part like a biblical sea for his tongue. Each of you paw and pant as you drink your fill of each other.

“Gar ganar haar haal, baar, bal runi akay haar oyu’baat hettir dayn.” He says after pulling away to let you catch your breath.

“The last part of the sentence I understood, but the first part is new.”

“It roughly translates to ‘you have the breath, body, and soul until the universe burns out’.”

“Breath, body, and soul.” You whisper to yourself.

“Breath, body, and soul,” he repeats. “I want to be yours in every way possible. I never thought I would want to …give myself… to someone like this in my life. I was completely fine with it being just me and the kid. Then you decided to come along and turn everything upside down.”

“I want you in any and every way you will allow me too, Din.” 

“As long as I can have you in the same way, you’ve got a deal.”

“Until the universe burns out.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

In an attempt to keep the child entertained, you had started turning anything that wasn’t tied down to The Crest into a toy. First there was a piece of scrap metal. You figured that placing him in the middle of it and trying to spin him would be fun. You were wrong. He might still have been laughing when you stopped spinning, but you certainly weren’t. His breakfast must have decided that you were going too fast because it came back up to say ‘hi’ to you and to the hull floor. After that you found a small strip of rope. You pretended to make it move in a serpentine pattern. You both laughed as you made the faux creature slither all around his little body. You must have been doing too good of a job at mimicking the movements of a real animal because the kid decided to try to eat it. You spend a good five minutes trying to pry the rope out of his little teeth. Who knew he would have such strong jaws?

You decide to bring him over to your bed to play an invigorating game of peek-a-boo. You sit down with your back against the crate that acts as your headboard and place him in front of you. As you adjust yourself, your tote, that's propped up on your right, slouches against your body. The child coos as you move it back to an upright position. 

“I don’t think I have anything in there that would interest you, little one.”

Unphased by your statement, he reaches out his hands and makes a grabbing motion. You figure that if rummaging through your bag of clothes would keep him occupied, you should let him do it. You grab the tote and place it down in between the two of you. You flick open the clasp and lift the flap. He pushes himself up and waddles over to the wondrous new world you have just revealed to him. While you should be annoyed as he flings your clothes out left and right, you just smile down at him. With all the trouble that he is, and he definitely is, he’s worth it. 

When you spent all that time alone on Eadu, you longed for something interesting to happen. Something that would pull you from the monotony of your self induced isolation. Who knew that The Maker would finally answer your desperate pleading in the form of a tiny, green child. You obviously haven’t had the time to have your own children yet. It wasn’t even something that had entered your mind until you were face to face with those beautiful, big, brown eyes. Trust was something that was important to you when it came to family and there was clearly a lack of that in your life. Things are different now, but having one child is more than enough for you. 

The deeper into the bag he digs, the more sounds of excitement he emits. Your clothes now litter the bed. When he inevitably reaches the bottom of your bag he looks up at you in confusion. 

“I told you there wouldn’t be anything interesting.” You laugh.

He looks into the empty tote again and pulls it forward to lay it down. You watch curiously as he crawls halfway inside. The tote, from your point of view, looks alive. It is wriggling around and the spots where his ears are making the fabric protrude outward. You hear a zipping noise coming from inside and see him crawl his way back out again. Your body goes rigid when you see what he found. A small bag, the same worn leather as your tote, filled with credits. Their deceivingly joyful jingle rings out as he shakes it in his hands. A wave of guilt rolls over you. Something as pure as he is shouldn’t be playing with blood money. 

“Baby, are you sure that is what you want to play with?” 

The money itself isn’t inherently bad, it's what it stands for that is. Blood was shed to find it, and blood being shed will earn it. 

“Maybe we can find something else for you-” 

As you reach for the credits bag he pulls it away from you and shakes his head. He is clearly determined to play with it. While you are less than happy to let him play with this bag versus the first one, you know when to pick your battles. You lean back against the crate, subconsciously trying to get your body as far away from the bag as you can, while he tries to open it. He pulls at it with his claws first and when that fails he tries his teeth. Your sympathy for him overpowers your own complicated feelings and you take it from him. The knot you tied around it is absolutely covered in drool and saliva at this point. It takes you a few seconds, but you finally release the knot. You hand it back to him and return to your previous position. He wiggles his fingers inside to fully open it up and again squeals in excitement at what he finds. He mirrors his previous actions and starts pulling credits out one by one. You know that there are fifty in there, so this should keep him busy for a while.  

Soon your clothes covered bed becomes gilded. Once the last credit had been removed from the bag, the baby just looked around at all the havoc he wreaked. You think he looks quite pleased with himself. He picks up a credit and examines it closely. He tries to put it in his mouth and he even manages to get a laugh out of you with the disgruntled face he makes. 

“Well,” you sigh. “Are you going to help me clean all of this up?”

He just smiles at you and shakes around the credit he has in his hand. You manage to collect all the coins and get them in a haphazard pile in front of the kid. You teach him how to place each one in the bag they belong in before starting on your own task of refolding your clothes. It takes you all of ten minutes to get the clothes folded and sorted back into your tote. Unsurprisingly, the credit that you had placed in the bag to show the child how to do it has somehow found its way out of the bag again. 

“Alright, new plan.”

You remove the now empty bag from in front of him and place it in front of you. 

“You are going to hand me a credit and then I’m going to put it in the bag, okay?”

He nods and hands one over. You gingerly take it from him and begin what you can only assume will be a long cleaning up process. After you take the second credit from him and drop it in the bag, the coins clink together. His ears perk up at the sound and he hurriedly gives you another. Each time you drop a coin in the bag and the sound rings out, his ears twitch. It has got to be the single cutest thing you have ever seen. You try not to make a sound just in case that will cause him to stop. You can feel your heart overflowing with love for this curious little creature. 

The two of you aren’t even half way through when he decides that you aren’t moving fast enough for him. Instead of handing you the next credit, he uses the force to bypass your hand. Right above the bag he makes it fall in. It jangles as it makes contact with the others. You sit back and watch in awe of him. Even after all these months you are still amazed that something so tiny could contain something so powerful. All that power and he decides to use it to make sounds with coins.

He has maybe five more credits left to do when his father comes down the ladder from the cockpit. You look over the crate at him and give him a soft smile as he comes up behind you. The heavy pressure of his hands resting on each of your shoulders feels so relaxing that you almost forget to tell him.

“Din, watch this,” you gesture to the child. “Come on, baby. Do the magic hand thing.”

The kid looks up at the two of you and waves happily.

“Oh come on! You were just doing it to pick up the credits! Remember?” 

You pick up two coins that were previously in the bag and ding them together. The baby only laughs as you make the noise he has grown so fond of over the last half hour. 

“Using my kid for manual labor, huh?”

“Oh shut up. He was just doing it! I swear!”

“Sure.” 

“No, no really! He would use the force to lift the credits up and place them in the bag.”

The child is no help while you attempt to plead your case. He only laughs and claps his hands while you try to convince him to move a coin again. You can feel Din’s hands on your shoulders shake as he silently laughs above you. When it becomes clear that no amount of coaxing will get him to do it, you wave the white flag and scoop up the last few credits. Din has moved around to the entrance of your bed now. He picks up the child as you safely return the bagged credits to your tote. As always, a gloved hand is extended to help you up when you finish your task. 

The three of you make lunch together. It is a bit crowded with so many bodies, but you don’t mind. Not even when your ingredients seem to go missing and the only evidence of their existence are crumbs on the child’s clothes. 

“You know you're going to ruin his appetite if you keep slipping him chunks of meat.” You playfully chide to the man next to you without looking up.

“He can eat a lot more than what we think,” he bumps your shoulder. “Plus I have been meaning to give him an extra portion.”

“Oh? What did he do to deserve that?”

“For being a good judge of character.”

Eventually you manage to get the meal into bowls and disperse them to their owners. You take the baby and get him settled down to eat in your bed. Then you make your way back to the pantry to pick up your bowl. Din hasn’t moved from his spot since you handed him his food. You can feel the conflict inside him. You had felt his eyes trailing your body through the beskar as you walked away with the kid. He wants to eat with the two of you, but can’t due to the creed.

“The kid and I are going to eat in my room. We would both like you to stay down here for lunch with us if you’re comfortable. If you decide you want to, just let me know when you are done. No rush.” 

Before you go you squeeze his hand that isn’t holding his food. You don’t want to pressure him, but you want him to know that you are more than willing to accommodate his needs. As you move to release him, he squeezes your hand back and his helmet moves slightly to the side. 

“Thank you.” He says your name before letting you go back to the child. 

The kid has devoured more than half of his meal by the time you get back. Din was right, he sure can put food away. You dig into yours after getting settled in. Not long after, you hear Din making himself comfortable against the opposite side of the crates. You smile to yourself as you chew. Meal time may be unorthodox for the three of you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Naturally, the baby finishes eating first. When he realizes that you still have some left, he crawls into your lap. He is looking up at you with such pleading eyes. You almost give in and let him have the last bit of your food. 

“Nice try, but you already had a second helping.”

From behind the crate you can hear an unmodulated laugh. 

“You better be quiet over there,” you warn with mirth. “It’s a struggle to say ‘no’ to these big brown eyes.”

“I guess it’s best that you can’t see mine then.”

And just like that, the mental image you have been secretly working on in your mind is complete. You feel like you just got the wind knocked out of you. One tiny detail has completely thrown you off your axis. Brown. He has brown eyes. You had assumed they were brown, but now that you really knew you feel like you are one of the stars you have seen zipping by the window while traveling at light speed. You don’t know where you are going, but you don’t care. Even without seeing them, you can picture them so clearly in your mind's eye. His thick brows would sit above them just so. You think that his eye shape would slope down at the ends. Maybe from the weight of all of his years or maybe from the weight of his job. They wouldn’t be stern, no, they would be soft and caring. Perhaps even a little bit sad? They would be deep pools of mahogany. Showcasing his independence, his innate caring nature, and his confidence.

“Y-your eyes are brown?”

“Unless they have changed since the last time I looked in the mirror.”

His voice is soft. He doesn’t sound nonchalant as he talks. He just sounds…comfortable. You feel your chest swell with your newfound knowledge. You didn’t think your feelings for him could grow anymore, yet here you are. Falling a little deeper than you thought possible and not even worrying about if the ground under you will provide a soft landing or be unforgiving.

A voice, modulated, cuts through your proverbial swan dive. “I’m all covered up. Send the kid out and I’ll put him down for a nap. Lunch was delicious.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“You know that I was just messing around earlier, right?”

Strong arms circle your waist from behind and pull you into cool beskar. Your mind immediately goes to his eyes. Was he just kidding? Was it just a joke? 

“About what?”

“The kid using his powers to pick up the credits. I was just messing around. He did stuff like that before you came along too. I’m sure he just got shy.”

You feel yourself relax at his explanation and wrap your arms around his.

“So you just like making me feel crazy, is that it?”

“No, but I like watching you get all worked up.”

“How would you like to see me all worked up in the shower then?”

He pulls a deep breath in through his modulator at your words. You feel a welcoming pulsing between your legs as you let your mind start to wander. 

“Lead the way, pretty thing.”

He watches you undress from outside the fresher. Your body burns as the helmet dips down and up as you remove each article of clothing. Neither of you say a word as they drop to the ground. You can feel your own need radiating off your body as you finally kick off your underwear and move them to the side. The sound of the water running drowns out your shallow breathing. You mindlessly take your band off your neck and move to cover your eyes with it. 

“Stop.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The band. Don’t wear it.”

“Din, it’s just water. It won’t hurt it.”

He lets your statement hang in the air for a minute before he corrects himself.

“I don’t want you to wear it. I don’t give a damn about the water.”

You let it fall from your hands, discarded, just like the rest of your clothes. You turn and slip into the shower before he can change his mind. As the water warms your body up and wets your hair, you hear him removing his armor. Each time a piece of beskar makes contact with the hull floor your body vibrates with anticipation. When you hear the door of the fresher close behind him, your body feels as if it's floating. 

“Just close your eyes for me.”

You had them closed the moment you stepped under the water.

“You really trust me, Din?”

You jump slightly as his hands come up to cup your face. His lips come down to meet yours. Water trickles down in between the two of you as you swallow each other. 

“If I can’t trust you, I can’t trust anyone.”

He moves behind your body so that his back is blocking the water’s spray. You shut your eyes tighter at the movement; determined to keep them glued shut. You feel his hand move your wet hair to your left side and kiss his way down your neck. He lingers only to leave sweet bruises that you know you will see tomorrow. Your head falls back as his tongue greets your skin like a lost lover. Even with the lack of hot water touching you, you have never felt warmer. 

He can’t believe he has you in his arms right now. He is flirting with excommunication. He watches as you extend your neck so he has more room to lick and suck on you. He can feel himself already hardening as your neck starts to look like a field of poppies. He wants to mark you all over. Make sure people know that you are his. He knows you would let him do anything to you; putty in his hands. That power scares him because he doesn’t know if you know that he would let you do anything to him as well. 

He keeps his eyes trained on your face as his hand moves down to your burning center. Your plush lips part slightly as he starts to rub tight circles on you. The meek whimpering sounds that spill out of your mouth threaten to make his knees buckle. This fear is made worse when you start to whisper his name out to him. 

“You sound so pretty when you say my name. Do you want this?” He makes need known to you as he pushes himself up against your ass. 

“Maker, please. I have been waiting for it all day.”

“If you want it, you have to earn it.”

He knows you know that that means. Two of his fingers slide easily into your slick folds. Your left hand comes up to dig your nails into his shoulder. He works the hand he has inside of you faster as you claw at him like an animal. Your body quickly adapts to the rhythm he has set for the two of you. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Your brows are furrowed in concentration and the way your teeth bite your lower lip does nothing to silence your wanton moans.

“That’s it, Mesh'la. Cum for me.”

Your legs shake underneath him as he holds you steady. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as you succumb to your climax. He carefully watches your eyes. He can see them darting around manically behind your tightly shut lids. 

“Such a good girl.” He croons. “Now you can have what you want.”

He moves the hand he was keeping you steady with up to your throat. He waits for you to say ‘no’ or ‘stop’, but you just smile as his grip tightens ever so slightly around it. He brings the fingers you soaked up to your lips. 

“Suck.”

Your mouth greedily takes them in. He has to grind into you to relieve the pressure building within himself as your tongue takes care of each finger. You don’t shy away. As you continue cleaning him off, he feels you arch your back and push up against him. When he can’t take it anymore he pops his fingers out of your mouth and uses your saliva to pump himself. He brings himself up to your entrance and chokes on a groan as you slide your way down unprompted. 

“You’re always so fucking tight, pretty thing. So tight around my cock.” 

He keeps his hand on your throat and moves the other back down to your clit. The two of you move together in unison. With each thrust into you he wills himself to hold on. You need to cum a second time. He keeps a steady pace with his hips, but his hand speeds up. 

“Y-you make me feel so good, Din.”

As the air around the two of you gets thick with steam, he feels you come undone for him a second time. The way your breath hitches and your body shakes is the strongest drug in the universe. It’s completely intoxicating to watch you fall apart for him. 

He gives you no time to recover as he keeps pounding into you. Your body is already drained from giving you two orgasms and your legs are wobbly from standing so long. You have never felt better in your life. When he wrapped his hand around your neck you expected to flinch or not feel comfortable, but all you felt was safety. You knew he would never hurt you and the pressure he applied and was still applying is thrilling. More so than you thought. You scratch your nails down from his shoulder to his bicep and feel him stutter inside you. He cums only a few pumps later. You feel what doesn’t stay inside you run down your legs and mingle with the water droplets on your skin.

When the two of you finish he turns your body back to where the water can fully reach you. He lathers you up with his soap and makes sure you’re all clean. Then he washes your hair. He’s gentle and makes sure not to pull on any knots you might have. You know your hair is past the point of completely soaped up, but you let him take as long as he wants. When it’s his turn to be washed clean, you try your best. He helps your blind self find his head and massage the soap into it. You make sure to take just as long as he did. While you scrub he periodically leans down to kiss your lips and your arms. The shudder your body makes when he touches you isn’t lost to him. 

When the water threatens to give each of you hypothermia, he shuts it off and wraps you in a towel. He dries you off completely before using the same one on himself. When he scoops you up you feel the towel securely fastened around his waist. You wish you could see the way his V tapers into the garment. He gently places you down on the edge of the bed while you hear him rummaging around in a drawer. He tells you to lift your arms up and slides one of his thick undershirts over your shivering body. 

“Do you want me to put my band on or…?”

“No.”

You leave it at that and crawl back under the covers. He follows rights after you and to your delight he has dropped the towel somewhere on the floor. He tells you that you should nap while the child does and when you insist that you aren’t tired a yawn breaks free. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

If you could roll your eyes you absolutely would. Maker, it’s so annoying when he’s right. As you huddle close to him you feel early signs of sleep creeping into your brain. You don’t want to let it take you before you can talk with him.

“Din? Do you ever have nightmares?” 

“Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know. I guess sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who gets haunted by my past while I’m in the present.”

“I figured that’s what you dreamt about.”

“Yeah,” you scoot closer to him in the dark. “I replay what happened that night with Alden and my parents over and over again.”

“I used to get them. A lot actually.”

“What…what were they about?”

“My parents. I can see them so clearly protecting me before they die. They set me in this bunker and when they closed it an explosion went off. A droid opened the hatch and raised its blaster at me, but right before it fired a Mandalorian shot it.”

“Really?”

“The next thing I remember was being helped out and flown away by them.”

“What do you dream about now?”

“You.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[writingsofwesteros]

two bastards are better than one

@ that anon who imagined her going to Ned and Cat's bed

It's rare for the nightmares to spoil his nightly rest, but it happens still, from time to time. Arthur Dayne's face, when Howland stabbed him, right before Ned cleaved off his head. Lyanna's pleading cries "Promise me! Promise me Ned!" These were the visions that woke him up with a start tonight. Ned shudders uner his covers, but it has nothing to do with the northern cold. In fact, he is burning. He knows he will not be able to shut his eyes till morning

He promissed Lyanna he will take care of her children, and some good did he make of his vow. Both her children, his own son and he himself with them, are probably beyond redemption at this point. The Gods see and judge all.

He lies there, looking at the vaulted ceiling of Winterfell's master bedroom. Catelyn is sleeping peacefull beside him. Then he hears it. The faintest of sounds. A patter of bare, light feet. Someone's approaching. That would be Rickon. The boy has grown much the past summer but sometimes he seeks his mother's comfort during the night still.

The door to the chamber open almost noiselessly, but it's not Rickon who emerges from the darkness. The Gods will never take mercy on him will they? No, torture is all they have in store for Ned, and rightly so, for all his sins.

His supposed bastard daughter is stark naked, her slender young body bathed in the dying warm light of the hearth's embers. Yet even in this near darkness he can see her tousseled hair, her round, wild eyes, and the unmistakable wetness glistening between her thighs.

His heart clenches. A quick look at Catelyn confirms that she's fast asleep, to Ned's relief. But there his blessings end. His daughter approaches his bedside and she looks so much like Lyanna Ned thinks he might be dreaming.

And then she enters their bed. His and Catelyn' marital bed. She crawls under his covers and over him. He feels her writhe against him until she emerges, her head near his, and starts whispering frantically.

"Please, daddy, I need you. I think I'm going mad." she whines to his ear, and nuzzles his neck. Her hand grips his cock. What kind of fresh heaven hell is that? Blast it, but he is hard already.

"Please, daddy, just the tip!" she says as she straddles him and humps her hips, giving them both some delicious friction.

She moans and Catelyn stirs, so Ned clasps his big hand over his daughter's mouth and pulls her down towards his chest, hiding her under the covers.

"If you want it, keep your mouth shut," he hisses at her and motions her down to the mattress, on her side, away from Catelyn.

The girl nods frantically, signalling that she'll be quiet, but he does not trust the vixen, so he keeps her muzzled and pressed to him. With his other hand he reaches down to free his cock.

"Open up for daddy," he whispers in her ear and she shifts, arching her back, pressing her bum and pussy against his hardness. He enters her then and pushes deep, to the hilt. "Here. Happy?" he hisses, and she is fervently nodding again.

She starts undulating her hips slowly to ride him. Nede stays motionless, shielding her body from Catelyn's sight with his broad back. It's a slow, torturous kind of lovemaking, and he feels himself slowly giving in to the sensation, and his tension melting. Her sweet, slick, tight cunt. It's just magical. No wonder his sons can't get enough of her.

He feels himself approaching his peak but then his heart freezes, when he feels a soft touch on his back.

"Going solo, Ned?" his wife groans from behind him. "Should have woken me."

Catelyn clings to his back, unaware of his daughter writhing on his cock. To his horror Ned finds that his arousal is doubled by this. Cat puts her hand on his arm and presses a kiss between his shoulder blades, and his daughter clenches her cunt around him, spooked by her mother's stirring and...

...and that's when Ned just can't hold back anymore and spills himself.

If the Gods plan to kill him, now would be the good time, please.

"Thank you, daddy," his daughter mumbles sleepily against his hand and starts licking his fingers.

one ticket straight to hell pls

!!!!!!!!!

FUCK FUCK FUCK!

You are such a blessing and this is so hot.

Cat waking up is just icing on the cake!!

"Open up for daddy," he whispers in her ear and she shifts, arching her back, pressing her bum and pussy against his hardness. He enters her then and pushes deep, to the hilt. "Here. Happy?" he hisses, and she is fervently nodding again. SO HOT

He'll have to gag her ; she's a loud girl of pleasure ;)

[thefloatingwriter]

I'd adore more of your wiress and beetee hcs if you had any more to share maybe

thank you so much for this ask anon i love any excuse to talk about them. i can’t tell if you want just beetee and wiress or them separately but i’ll give you both because i have lots of thoughts.

Beetee:

he was born on july 23rd, 21 ADD.

he has five siblings, two brothers and three sisters. he’s the oldest. in order they are: adeline (six years younger), roent (eight years younger), tera and ruther (ten years younger), and dayta (thirteen years younger).

he grew up really poor, his family barely making ends meet. his father died when he was fourteen and his mother kind of lost herself after that.

because of that, he became his siblings only real parental figure when he was really young.

his favorite color is blue.

he won the 40th at nineteen. it was the oldest a victor ever was at the time of their victory.

he dismantled an old computer he found in the trash and then put it back together when he was six.

he’s either still up at three in the morning or is out at nine pm. there’s no in between.

he also wakes up really early every single morning. wiress thinks he’s insane.

he’s actually pretty tall.

he knows how to ice skate.

he prefers cold weather over warm weather.

he loves the snow.

he’s a dog person.

he’s really good with kids.

Wiress:

she was born on november 6th, 29 ADD.

she has an older sister named barbara (four years older).

she’s polish and her last name is lisiecki.

she’s an acrobat and singer.

her family was richer than most residents of three. her father was a software developer until he passed (i have a lot of dead dads in my hcs). her mother ran a sort of theatre group/circus to entertain capitol and three citizens. it’s where wiress learned acrobatics.

her hair is naturally curly.

she won the 48th when she was eighteen.

she’s really good with crowds but hates one-on-one talking.

her favorite color is lilac.

she had a cat before she won named fleur. fleur went on to have three kittens named iris, leni, and luna.

she loves the smell of lavender.

she is not a morning person at all. she can barely function in the mornings.

she loves both coffee and tea.

she has a giant sweet tooth.

she cannot cook. like seriously. last time she tried she started a fire and almost burnt her house down.

she was always a naturally curious person. as a child she snuck into the woods surrounding three and took walks for hours. it scared her mother senseless every time she up and disappeared and she always sent barbara out to go find her.

her district token was a woven purple bracelet her sister made for her when she was younger.

Wiress and Beetee:

this is basically canon but they can talk with their eyes/just understand each other without saying anything. the other victors have made a game out of figuring out what they’re talking about.

beetee’s token was his glasses for both of his games, so for the 75th he took his wedding band and added two silver stripes on the sides out of the metal.

most of the victors have absolutely no idea what their relationship is. like some of them think they’re just really good friends, some of them think they’re dating casually, and some are like, “no they’ve been married for a decade.”

he was her mentor. the 48th was the only year where both tributes were from “richer families” (i.e. three’s version of merchant families). atlas, the other victor from three, came from a merchant family but beetee didn’t and there’s a lot of animosity between the poorer and richer people in three (similar to twelve but if like everyone acted like mrs. mellark) so he was really worried that wiress was going to be rude or disrespectful. and then he meets the sweetest eighteen year old he’s ever met who sings for fun and hums to herself when she’s anxious. safe to say he was surprised.

beetee really hates explaining stuff so when wiress comes along they can sometimes forget they have to explain stuff to people and they won’t get it if they give them The Look even though they both get what that means. they don’t even mean to but they can be hanging out with anyone and make them feel like they’re third-wheeling.

bonus:

Beetee adjusts his glasses as he squints at the computer in front of him. “Our brains are made of the same wires.”

Wiress looks over at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “That’s genuinely the most romantic thing you have ever said to me.”

(this is 100% going in a fic but why do i have the best ideas for random lines at one in the morning like why can’t inspiration hit at a normal time ffs)

sorry this took a minute for me to post <3 i hope you like these! anyway, again anon ilysm for this ask seriously i love love love talking about them.

[boldstarks]

When Jasper Met Rhaenyra (Part 1): Jasper Dayne Blurb #2

106 AC 

Jasper Dayne met the woman he swore would be his wife when he was one and ten years old. Shortly after arriving at the Red Keep with his parents and his older brother, Ardyn, he first met Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and was instantly enthralled. She had long silver-gold hair, clear blue eyes, and pale skin. People said she had the usual Targaryen features, but Jasper thought that she was the most beautiful creature to walk the earth. He was smitten, and his brother loved to tease him about it. 

“You love the princess, don’t you, Jasper?” Ardyn asked mockingly one day while the whole Dayne family was breaking their fast together. 

Jasper’s face turned red. “Shut up, Ardyn!” 

Jasper’s father, Samwell, lifts an eyebrow and looks at his second son. The boy’s appearance was all the proof needed to know that Jasper had feelings for the king’s only child. 

“That’s cute,” Rhea Celtigar, the boys’ mother, said. 

Jasper averts his eyes from his family and stares down at his half-eaten breakfast. The Realm’s Delight had captured his heart with no effort and barely looked his way. Who was he in the first place? A second son of Starfall who would become the lord of a house of landed knights when he turned sixteen, that’s who. He was someone who wouldn’t even be considered when Princess Rhaenyra became of age to marry.

Samwell said nothing and only continued to eat his breakfast. It was Ardyn who spoke up next. 

“He says that she’s the most beautiful girl ever and that he wants her to be his wife!” Ardyn exclaimed, shrieking with laughter. 

“I said shut up!” Jasper yells angrily and uses his spoon to chuck a spoonful of porridge at his older brother. 

The warm porridge meets its mark and splats on top of Ardyn’s brown head of hair. The sight of his brother with porridge and melted butter on his head and leaking onto his face makes Jasper laugh. 

Ardyn jumps to his feet with his own spoon in his grip. “You’re dead, Jasper!”  

“Jasper! Ardyn! Stop this at once!” Rhea yelled angrily.

Both boys freeze as Rhea sighs harshly and shoots her husband a look of annoyance. Both Ardyn and Jasper put their spoons down solemnly. Ardyn sits down silently and uses a napkin to wipe the butter and porridge off his face. 

Samwell clears his throat and finally speaks. “Here in the Red Keep, you have to be on your best behavior. This is not Starfall, and no one here can be trusted, and you must represent House Dayne to the best of your abilities.”  

Jasper wondered what this had to do with his infatuation with Princess Rhaenyra. 

“But Father,” Jasper starts, but Samwell continues speaking. 

“It is time you boys learned that your noble birth will not open every door for you, especially here in Kingslanding,” Samwell tells his sons. “Because we are a Dornish house, the people are not thrilled with our presence and will be looking for a reason to send us back to Starfall.”

“But mother’s house is sworn to the Iron Throne. Doesn’t that count for anything?” Ardyn asks.

Rhea shakes her head. “People do not respect House Celtigar as they should. Despite our roots in Old Valyria, people often look past us, especially the other Valyrian houses.”  

“Does that mean I’ll never marry the Princess?” Jasper asks. 

“It is very unlikely that anyone Dornish will be considered a match for Princess Rhaenyra, especially because she is the king’s only child,” Samwell says in reply.

Jasper slumps down in his chair, disappointment washing over him like the waves lapping the shores of Blackwater Bay. What did his father know? If Jasper wanted to marry the princess, all he had to do was woo her. And that was exactly what he was going to do.

111 AC

Princess Rhaenyra groaned with annoyance when she came upon the bouquet of flowers sitting in front of her door. 

“Is everything alright, Princess?” Ser Harrold Westerling asks.

“It seems Jasper Dayne is back from visiting his Claw Isle,” Rhaenyra said, picking up the bouquet of dragon’s breath from in front of her door.

She opens the door to her chambers, and she walks in. 

“I’ll be out here if you have need of me, Princess,” the knight said, taking his post. 

“Thank you, Ser Harrold,” Rhaenyra replies and closes the door behind her. 

When the door is finally shut, Rhaenyra lets herself smile at the flowers. She would never admit this to Jasper’s face, but she appreciated how he sent her flowers for no reason. He was the only man in her life to vie for her heart rather than her Valyrian blood or the Iron Throne. Even her uncle Daemon wanted the throne, but Jasper just wanted her. 

Unlike most second sons, Jasper had his own title to inherit. When he had arrived in Kingslanding three years earlier, the Dayne boy had made his affections for Rhaenyra very clear when he came upon her and Alicent one day in the godswood. His face was flushed red with embarrassment when he thrust a fistful of gillyflowers and lilacs into her grasp. He then proceeded to run off and hide.

Rhaenyra goes to the vase on her desk that holds the flowers Jasper had given her prior to his journey to Claw Isle. They are dried up now and need to be thrown away. Rhaenyra takes the dead flowers and replaces them with the new bouquet. She pours in some water from a pitcher that a servant left for her.

There’s a knock at the door, and Ser Harrold speaks. “Princess, Lord Dayne is here to see you.”

“Let him in,” Rhaenyra calls back. 

The door opens, and the princess turns, expecting to see Jasper, but instead his father, Samwell, stands in the doorway. 

“Hello, Your Grace,” Samwell said, bowing.

“Lord Dayne, I was expecting your son,” Rhaenyra replied. “What can I do for you?” 

“I come with news. I have sent my son, Jasper, back to Starfall,” Samwell said as he folded his hands behind his back.

Rhaenyra’s blood turns cold. “May I ask why?” 

“I am going to be honest, Princess. Jasper is distracted from his training,” Samwell told her. “You are distracting him from his training.” 

“Your son and I are friends and nothing more,” Rhaenyra insisted.

“We both know my son would rather be more than that, and I fear he will never relent. Especially not with the way you encourage him.” 

“I did not encourage him,” Rhaenyra said, shakily. 

“I mean no disrespect, Your Grace, but you and my son are simply impossible. I know your father and his small council have encouraged this attachment, but you are the heir to the Iron Throne, and he is to be the knight of High Hermitage. I am only trying to be realistic,” Samwell said.

“Most men would encourage their son to get close to me,” Rhaenyra says with a short laugh. 

“I am here to foster goodwill between Dorne and the Iron Throne, nothing more, Your Grace,” Samwell said. “I have sent my son away to complete his training to be the next Sword of the Morning.” 

It was a title that Jasper had coveted before Rhaenyra had even met him.

“Your son will make a wonderful Sword of the Morning,” Rhaenyra tells Samwell. “You may leave now, Lord Dayne.” 

She turns away from him and gently fingers a petal of the flowers sent by Jasper. She can hear Lord Dayne’s retreating footsteps. 

“Are you alright, Princess Rhaenyra?” Ser Harrold inquired. 

She doesn’t answer his question. “Can you close the door, Ser Harrold?” 

Once she hears the door close, Rhaenyra finally lets the tears in her eyes fall.

Masterlist

[clevermird]

Title: The Road to Coruscant

Prompt: Allies @shortfictionweeklychallenge

Rating: Teen

Characters: Feyte Saien (female Jedi Consular), Mallena Dayne, (female Republic Trooper), Eyrie Lancaster (female Jedi Knight), Jessasi Silver (female Smuggler), Aric Jorgan, Corso Riggs, T7-01, Qyzen Fess

Pairing(s): None

Four young women find themselves on a ship bound for Courscant. Each brings their own companion, their own mission, and their own past, but when the Sith Empire attacks their ship, they find themselves in an alliance, and their biggest problem isn't what they'll do when they reach their destination, but if they're going to reach it at all!  

Now that Ironfist is dead, it's time to take the fight directly to the Imperials - and boy howdy, does Jessasi have thoughts about that!

Text under cut

Jessasi stood up from behind the console she’d been using for cover and shoved her blasters into their holsters. Having a couple of Jedi on your side sure came in handy. Everyone had been so busy shooting at them that they hadn’t even noticed her.

She had to admit, though, Ironfist had been tough. Normally a couple blaster bolts to the chest stopped a guy in his tracks, but it hadn’t seemed to faze him. She wondered what his armor was made of. Maybe she should get herself some of it.

Corso came over to her, hand over one ear. “Those missiles sure are loud, aren’t they, Captain?”

She grinned. “Not hurt, then?”

He shook his head, dreadlocks swinging. “Are you?”

“Not a scratch. Come on, they’re starting without us.” 

The rest of the group had clustered around First Officer Hakin, who was busy thanking them profusely for saving him. The Mirialan Jedi, who Jessasi had come to think of as “the nice one”, smiled. “Don’t mention it.” The other Jedi, the serious one, looked uncomfortable.

Ambassador Asara reappeared, leading Commander Narlok. “We’re not safe yet, though. The Imperials still have us in our tractor beam. We can’t go anywhere until it’s disabled.”

“Short of destroying their ship, the only way to ensure that a tractor beam is disabled is to shut it down from the source,” said Lieutenant Dayne. Jessasi thought she looked a bit young to be an officer, probably early twenties. By human standards, she was probably pretty plain, although not necessarily ugly: about average height, but mostly arms and legs, with washed-out blue eyes and oddly dark eyebrows, one of which was broken by a scar that started at her hairline and ended just below her cheekbone. The only thing that she really had going for her was her hair, which was thick and honey colored and probably real long if she wore it down.

Hakin shook his head. “We can’t destroy their ship. They’d blow us up the moment we started firing. I hate to ask after all you’ve done, but – “

“We’ll do it,” said the serious Jedi.

“Woah, woah, woah, who’s ‘we’?” Jessasi cut in. She was not about to march onto an Imperial ship.

“Myself, T7, and I believe that Feyte and Qyzen will come too. You’re not obligated to join us.”

Jessasi crossed her arms. She certainly hoped not.

Lieutenant Dayne exchanged glances with her Cathar buddy. “We’re going too.”

Corso was looking at her expectantly. Great, now I feel guilty. “It’s not like I’m saying I won’t go! I just didn’t want you volunteering me for something that’ll probably get us all killed. But nope, I’m perfectly fine with coming. Don’t mind me.”

The serious Jedi turned back to Commander Narlok. “How soon can your team be ready?”

“I’ll assemble them right away.”

“Why don’t you take the ambassador with you?” said Hakin. “I’m sure she knows a great deal about the interior of Imperial ships.”

Asara nodded. “I can show you where you need to go.”

“Why don’t you put on a spare uniform, first?” said Narlok. “We don’t want the Imps to recognize you.”

The pair left. Hakin watched them go, then turned back to their group. “Thank you so much for doing this. I don’t know if anyone else on board would have a chance.”

Glancing around, he dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “I heard what Asara tried to make you do back there. Thank you for standing up to her.”

“She panicked,” said the nice Jedi. “I’m sure she didn’t truly want to bring harm to your men.”

“Regardless, I think we all know what has to be done.”

“Then why don’t you just say it?” Jessasi did not like where this conversation was heading.

“Look, the only way to get the Imperials to leave us alone is to give them what they want. So I want you to leave the ambassador behind on the Imperial ship.”

She felt her mouth drop open. “What?!”

“They won’t stop chasing us until they have her and I have to think about everyone else on this ship. We both know she deserves it.”

“Whatever you think about what she did, we still can’t abandon her to the Empire,” said the nice Jedi. “That would be just as great a wrong as sacrificing the engineers.”

“And beyond that, it doesn’t make tactical sense!” burst out Lieutenant Dayne, maybe a bit louder than she should have. “Do you know how many Republic secrets ambassadors like her know? Are you willing to bet the entire war on hoping she can resist an interrogation when she knows her own people sold her out?”

Hakin glared at her. “All I’m asking is for you to think about it.”

“We will,” said Jessasi. “While we’re headed to the airlock to space it.” She’d known there was a reason she hadn’t liked him. Turning on her heel, she walked toward the elevator. Hopefully someone else was going to follow her, because she had no idea where the hanger they were supposed to be going to was and it would look pretty stupid if she had to go back to ask for directions.

Fortunately, the rest of the group was just behind her and the Cathar put in the elevator directions. They raced downward and came out into a hanger bay with a shuttle in the center. A dozen troopers met them and Jessasi and Corso found seats in the front, squeezed in between two of the soldiers.

As the shuttle took off, Commander Narlok started to outline his plan. Jessasi started to tune him out at some point, but she gathered that they were going to split into two groups. One would go to disable the tractor beam, while the other would create a diversion somewhere else on the ship. She was going with the first group and that was all she needed to know.

Leaning back in her seat, she wondered what it would have been like if she had joined the army when she had graduated instead of getting into smuggling. Her parents would probably have reacted a little better, and she wouldn’t have had to deal with that schutta Skavik, either. But it sure wouldn’t have been as much fun.

The shuttle slid into the hanger bay just ahead of the bay doors shutting. Commander Narlok immediately started shouting orders to his men. No, Jessasi decided. Smuggling is definitely more fun.

As they jogged toward the door to the rest of the ship, it burst open and Imperial troops spilled into the hanger. Pulling out her guns, Jessasi fired and three of them fell. She kept running and Narlok’s soldiers took care of the rest of them.

Serious Jedi signaled and Jessasi and Corso peeled of from the main group with the rest of the team headed for the tractor beam. The Imps seemed to be ignoring them, and she didn’t blame them. Narlok’s group was making a huge ruckus, shouting and tossing grenades in addition to mowing down everyone who came their way.

Following Asara’s map, they boarded an elevator, which plunged downward fast enough to overwhelm the inertial compensators and tug at Jessasi’s stomach. It lurched to a stop and spilled them into a dark, gloomy room lined with banks of consoles. Does the Empire not believe in lighting or something?

The room was full of people, but most of them looked like techs and the few who had blasters barely seemed to know how to fire them. It didn’t take long to kill the ones who wouldn’t back down and herd the rest into a corner, where Lieutenant Dayne and the Cathar stood guard over them. Everyone else climbed the ramp to the largest console.

The little astromech droid extended some sort of probe and shoved it into a data port and after a moment, it started making a series of beeps and whirring noises. “What the hell is he saying?” said Jessasi.

Serious Jedi turned in her direction. “He’s shut down as much of the tractor beam as he can from here, but we’ll have to do the rest at the site itself.”

For someone who apparently doesn’t have any eyes, it sure does look like she’s looking directly at you. Something flashed in the corner of Jessasi’s vision and she turned around. “Oh, look, it’s the Imperial guy from before! The ugly one.”

He ignored her. “It’s really rather impressive that you’ve made it this far, but I’m here to tell you that it won’t last. I’m sending my best troops to your location, with orders to spare your lives if you surrender. I recommend you take them up on the offer.”

Serious Jedi looked like she wanted to say something, but Jessasi beat her to it. “Recommend whatever you want, we’re not surrendering!”

“Very well, then. I suppose I’ll have to destroy you. Too bad, really, I was looking forward to talking to you.” The hologram disappeared.

“Oh dear, whatever shall he do?” muttered Jessasi and had the satisfaction of hearing Corso chuckle.

“Let’s go!” shouted Serious Jedi, already halfway down the ramp.

“What about them, m’am?” said the Cathar from the corner.

“Does your gun have a stun setting?”

“Mine does,” the Lieutenant said.

“Use it.” Serious Jedi took off, moving surprisingly quickly for someone of her unimpressive height. Everyone else followed her and Jessasi heard shots behind them. A few minutes later, the two troopers caught up.

Whatever Hakin’s motivations for sending Asara with them, she was certainly useful. Jessasi didn’t think they would have ever found the tractor beam chamber without the map she had given them. Finally, they emerged from a series of hallways and control rooms – does all this stuff even do anything? Jessasi found herself wondering – and saw the tractor beam.

It was pretty impressive: a platform with some sort of glowing beam thing in the center and a console in front of it, all suspended over a giant pit. A stream of guards and droids raced toward them and died in a flurry of blaster bolts and lightsaber beams.  

Jessasi looked up from finishing off a boxy droid that had clumsily tried to take a swing at one of her lekku to see a massive tank-style droid standing in front of the console. “That’s a really big droid,” she muttered.

“And it’s in our way,” the Lieutenant said. “Let’s destroy it.”

“On my signal,” Serious Jedi said softly. “One, two, three.” She leapt to the droid, which tracked her progress with blaster fire. Landing in front of it, she sliced off one of its legs as the rest of the group opened fire or charged into the fight.

Jessasi dove behind a box and started firing. Man, this thing is even tougher than Ironfist. It let out some kind of pulse and the people near it fell backwards. Already near the edge, Serious Jedi lost her balance and toppled off the side of the platform. Nice Jedi shouted in alarm and ran to her.

Ducking behind her cover again, Jessasi took a deep breath and considered. She didn’t want to waste any more time here. More Imps would probably be showing up soon. The droid didn’t even really matter, as long as the console was off. The console. . .

“Corso, come with me!” she shouted, sprinting away from the fight.

“What is it?” he said as he caught up with her.

“Just follow me.”

“We’re not running away, are we, Captain?”

“’course not. We’re winning.”

Like she had suspected, there was another access to the platform on the opposite side of the room. They slipped up it and crawled to the control panel. “Are you sure this is going to work?” said Corso.

Jessasi shushed him. The back of the console was easy enough to pull off, but there she got stuck. What was all this stuff for? And which one had enough juice to get the job done? Well, she’d just have to go with it.

She tugged on a red-insulated wire. When it came loose, she handed it gingerly to Corso. “See if you can short out the droid’s circuits with this,” she said, trying to be heard over the sounds of battle.

He jumped up and dragged the wire over to the droid. It took a few minutes of jerking and dancing to get close enough, but finally, he managed to touch the bare end of the wire to its plating.

Nothing happened.

“Firfek,” Jessasi muttered under her breath. “Try this one!” Maybe the white-insulated wire has more power?

Again, no reaction. “It’s still not working! Captain, are you sure you should – “

“Try this one!” This had to work, it just had to. The droid had noticed her, it was turning, rotating its turrets. In desperation, she flung the latest wire at Corso. The droid paused, then crumpled slightly as blue lightning arced over it, frying its circuits. The light faded from its photoreceptors and it made a sort of weak grinding sound.

Jessasi jumped up, high-fiving Corso. “We did it!” she shouted.

[myriamas]

who: @dante-uller when and where: following the tense conversation between king cedric tyrell, baashir dayne and dante uller, myriam allyrion awaits in her chambers for her usually weekly meeting with the second minister of dorne. she has already heard how it went from the viewpoint of the sword of the morning, and had been looking forward to speaking with dante to gain his perspective on the matter. context: myriam has fully accepted and fallen for the persona that dante uller puts on: that of him being understanding, more open minded and less judgemental. for this reason, knowing that baashir can sometimes be the sterner of the two, she seeks to understand how blatant the reach's threats truly were.

her kohl lined orbs remained fixed comfortably beyond the window pane, seated against the window wrapped up in her shawls; the amount of days for her specific mourning period had ceased, meaning that the silks of white adorned to mourn for her late husband had been unwrapped and discarded of. now, she was a crimson and mandarine sight; golden thread etched upon her blouse and her skirts, her shawl remaining loosely against the side of her curves with thick dark hair remaining glossy. truthfully, she had always found a great amount of confidence and respect in herself when it came to matters of her personal appearance: when she believed that she looked impeccable, she truly believed she was impeccable.

there was a vast difference in the aura she seemed to radiate when the white robes slipped from her for the final time; the heavy weight of needing to grieve for something she did not truly feel she knew what she was grieving about.

many assumed the shadows on her face came out of fear of being alone; but rather, it came out of fear for what it was to be a royal widow. the assumption that even in death, she would not be free of the bangles that had become her manacles. she was waiting for someone. not merely anyone, but rather, she was waiting for the lord of hellgate hall; the presumed heir of house uller, or so she thought. perhaps she was wrong on that account, because she did not truly understand the inheritance that were the methods of house uller - how was it matters were settled and decided upon? did a lord or lady not feeling a sense of dread in knowing their death would spark upheaval within the region?

her gaze remained upon the windows, documents remaining sprawled out against the glitter of her blood orange coloured skirts, her gaze wafting between it and between the goblet she rested close to her, careful not to spill it over the parchment. what the actual fuck was this inheritance policy of hellholt? and of hellgate hall? her brows furrowed as she rested the feather of the quill against her nose, sitting upward as though she meant business now; the master of whispers had submitted the amount of forces he and dante's households combined held. but who was whose heir? who was dante's heir?

she begun to curse beneath her breath, tasting the wine upon her own tongue; though her voice trailed when she noted a figure approaching her chambers from the courtyard. and so she slipped from her window seat, still holding parchment in her hands as she made her way over to the door; swinging it open the moment the guards were ready to announce the presence of dante uller. she remained within the doorframe, her gaze flickering over him for a moment; he looked different somehow. she could not figure out how, or why. "dante uller." she greeted, wordlessly passing over the documents into his hands. there was a light wine stain upon the corner, something she had not noticed as she passed it over the man.

"would you do me the honour of informing me who it is you leave your holdings to in the present?" she asked, stepping to the side for him to answer, before swinging the door shut behind her with a certain bang. far too loud than she had expected. "one of your cousins from your uncle, would be the assumption."

[ruqaiyahdayne]

★

"arrogant? no, it is delusional. she is a mad woman." she took another puff of her smoke, knowing she would need to bask herself in the strongest of scents for family dinner later. baashir was already on edge having seen an apparent imaginary orange glow coming from her balcony window. "i'd have slammed the gates shut in her face and ensure dust got into her eyes." there was a slight scoff that came from her lips, not aimed at safeerah, but rather at the idea that devani would get help from her.

"especially in the aftermath of what her disgusting brother done." no, even if she had come to starfall first, she would have been left to stand in the dust - ruqaiyah was sure of it. not once did the narcissistic grace of the evening consider that devani would know such a thing, and that could have been a reason why she ventured to hellholt. "you know, she speaks of her brother, we all speak of aditya toland, but i don't think they are that different. house of jesters. if ghost hill goes to her, don't trust her." her words were with good intention, and yet, they were detached from the reality of what safeerah would need to do to secure safety for the tor.

there was a peculiar possessiveness ruqaiyah felt for safeerah jordayne; the same way a toddler refused to share her toys, ruqaiyah also detested the idea of anyone else being as close to safeerah as she was. not once had she considered this was a toxic mindset to adopt, instead she seemed to glorify it in her own mind, as though this made her even better of a friend. any issue she held was their issue, and she would have no issue in dealing with it in ways that saf herself would not.

"auntie doesn't deserve this, neither of you do. why is it always the good people that suffer?" she puffed out smoke again, careful to do it away from the direction of safeerah as she knew she did not like it; they were different, but she knew there were certain things she would not do to upset her friend. her sister. the tor deserved security, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought of the scene of rashid jordayne's funeral. the pyre, and the scattering of his ashes within the water. the memory was enough to cause her to feel a sense of pain, wallowing up in the back of her throat.

"why even bother going for trial? just get baashir to cut him down, or maybe he can hold him down whilst you do it." the second part of her suggestion was merely a joke, and yet, a part of her caught lady jordayne's gaze - as though she wondered whether she had it in her. she then watched as safeerah took her hand and held her gaze, always comforting, always grounding. she was ruqaiyah dayne. she was ruqaiyah dayne. she could do it, and so, she squeezed saf's hand. "i'll get halima to make sure other women stay away from him, at least until we get married. see, us ladies have our battle tactics too."

"once you've gotten your revenge justice, i'll help you find a good husband." the blend of revenge and justice was intentional, and for a reason; she was sure it was both. it had to be both?

safeerah could not judge her cousin for her reaction to seeing devani toland again. she knew there was true pain hidden behind the venom that had dripped from her lips. “i suppose it was quite funny when you called her devina.” she was in no mood to defend devani. she knew what the woman had done to ruqaiyah, what her brother had done to her own sister. “it is arrogant of her to think she can just return and rejoin society as no time has passed.” the tolands had heads bigger than they had any right to. saf never liked that trait in others. she did see it in ru from time to time, but she also knew there were other sides to her friend. saf saw the quick emotion pass on her face as she mentioned dante. “what would you have done if she had gone to you first? if she had showed up outside your door?” there was a fine line between prying and supporting. she knew ruqaiyah would simply wave her off if she did not wish to answer.

she felt a shiver run down her spine as the trial was mentioned. it was something she sometimes dreamed about at night, half a dream and half a nightmare. she did not answer if she wished for bash to be the one to fight if it ended in a trial by combat. she knew that bash could do it, that he would do it, but it weighed on her to ask. “you ask questions i do not yet know the answer to.” it was a conflict that raged inside her. between ideals and feelings. safeerah wanted to show there was another way, but she also knew if bash handed her the sword then she would run it through the heart of lord toland. “if lord toland dies, you know what that will mean for devani. she has a claim to ghost hill.” safeerah knew if there was no trial that she would have to move against ghost hill ― or maybe she had to do it anyway. there would be no peace inside her otherwise. for a woman who spoke of peace, she could not bear the thought of the tolands getting away with their crimes.

“the prince has a lot on his mind, i would not blame him for feeling overwhelmed with it all.” safeerah could sense the doubt emitting from her cousin, so she leaned forward and took one of her hands. “listen to me.” dark eyes clashed with violet. “you are ruqaiyah dayne, you are beautiful and powerful, and if you want ravi as husband, you will have him.” saf would always be first in line to support her even if their ambitions were wildly different. “he will not say no to you.” she let go of her hand and leaned slightly back again. “trust me, i have tried and i know it's close to impossible.” a soft laugh escaped her then.

safeerah smiled as she observed her friend. she always enjoyed these moments where calm would fall over them, and they could simply talk without thinking twice of what to say. her smile faltered slightly at the question. “mother is coping.” it was the truth. but it was not easy for any of them. she knew her mother longed for rashid as much as she did, and the surrounding chaos only made the longing deeper. he had been their rock and now she had to find a way to become the same, not only for herself and her family, but for all of the tor. “we are not alone, qaiyah, we have our people and each other ― and most of dorne, it seems.” saf knew that her cousin saw the world differently. in some ways, they were as different as night and day, but yet their friendship persisted despite all the reasons it should not. there were none closer to her than ruqaiyah. none where there was no filter between what she thought and what she said.

[testingcheats0n]

Game of Thrones Incorrect Quotes: Arthur Dayne and Jaime Lannister edition

Jaime: I slept for almost 12 hours but I might still be tired so lets go for 12 more just incase. Arthur: Jaime, that's a coma. Jaime: Sounds festive.

Jaime: You saved me. I owe you my life. Arthur: No thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not very impressed.

Jaime: Here's some advice Arthur: I didn't ask for any Jaime: Too bad. I'm stuck here with my thoughts and you're the only one who talks to me

Jaime: I’m gonna need a human skull and I can't have you ask any questions why. Arthur: Only if you also don't ask why Arthur: *Pulls out 7 pristine human skulls* Take your pick. Jaime: Arthur: Jaime: This one is fine

Jaime: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen! Arthur: Really? Name one law Jaime: Don't kill people? Arthur: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

A/N: And then he broke that one too.

Jaime: I was arrested for being too cool. Arthur: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

Jaime: You're right. Arthur: That's... That's an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

Jaime: *Accidentally hits Arthur in the face* Jaime: *Trying to decide between saying 'I’m fucking sorry' and 'Are you okay'* Jaime: ARE YOU FUCKING SORRY?! Arthur: What’s wrong with you?!

Jaime: Must be hard not being able to laugh Arthur: I do have a sense of humor you know Jaime: I’ve never heard you laugh before Arthur: I’ve never heard you say anything funny

Arthur: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them. Jaime: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

Arthur, addressing the kingsguard: And if you have any suggestions feel free to put them in the suggestion box. Jaime: But – that’s just a trash can. Arthur: It sure is!

Arthur: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running? Jaime: Oh, I’m always running Jaime: The question is from what

Arthur: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Jaime's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get him out...

BONUS:

Arthur: Hey Rhaegar can I get a sip of your water? Rhaegar: It's not water. Arthur: Vodka, I like your style! Rhaegar: It's vinegar. Arthur: Wh-Wha- Rhaegar: It's vinegar, COWARD.

Arthur: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE Rhaegar: Anything, honestly, but nerds especially Arthur, desperately, as Rhaegar bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE Rhaegar: Oh! B positive.

Rhaegar telling Arthur his plan to kidnap Lyanna: So that’s my plan. Arthur: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don’t want to sound mean. Arthur: No, go ahead, I want to hear it. Arthur: It fucking sucks. Rhaegar: That’s not constructive criticism.

Arthur, in a meeting with the kingsguard: My policy is if you see something, say something. Rhaegar: I saw a squirrel in a tree today! Arthur, with the tone of someone who is used to Rhaegar: Outstanding. Arthur: This is what I’m talking about people.