#desperately seeking soulmate

[joodeegemstone]

One of the most bizarre takes I've ever heard tbh

[wttnblog]

The 7 Best Documentaries of 2023

Welcome to the very first edition of the WTTN Best of 2023! As we did last year, the entire team has come together to rank a variety of movies, TV shows, and books that were released over the past year. The goal of this is to provide a comprehensive list of all of the best media of the year. So many incredible documentary films and TV shows came out over the past 365 days, and today we’ll be…

[worldmusicandcinema]

[theinfernalcalypso]

📌

[hawkinsbnbg]

Soulmates au where Steve's soulmate is a man of culture.

ao3

Steve got Good boy inscribed on his butt, just on the right cheek.

It would be funny if it was a tattoo Steve had gotten one time when he was too drunk and on a dare.

Except it wasn't a tattoo. At all.

Even though it kind of looked like one.

It was the first words his soulmate would say to him.

When Steve first got it, his friends had given him odd looks in the locker room.

Tommy would use many excuses to touch and even Billy wouldn't shut up about it.

As for Carol, she just cackled her head off when he showed it to her.

Still, whenever Steve was alone, he would look at the words in the mirror and feel kinda giddy about the whole thing.

Who would call someone they had just met "good boy"? What if they were far older than him?

And what would his words be for them? "Yes sir"? "Hello sir"?

Soon, he found his answer when he learned about the BDSM world, which Robin had jokingly mentioned one time.

And Steve sort of fell down the rabbit hole since then.

He met many men and women who would call him "good boy", and occasionally "good girl".

But none of them felt right.

Until he heard about Kas.

Who was known to be an experienced dom and knew how to treat his subs right.

Most of the subs in Steve's circle put the man on a pedestal. They practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

And Steve had become curious enough to seek him out.

A quick text over the phone and Steve already had a date with Kas at a hotel on Friday night.

Once the day arrived, he dolled himself up a little, knowing many doms liked how rosy cheeks and pouty lips he was.

He even wore lipgloss and mascara just for good luck.

His outfit was simple enough to take off, but cute nonetheless.

A yellow and pink graffitied black sweater that was a little baggy on him, a tiny pearl choker, silver bracelets, a pair of jeans shorts, and baby pink sneakers.

He looked like a twink, all things considered.

It wasn't his first time dressing like this and it wouldn't be the last time, either.

Steve just..

Well, he just wanted to make sure if he stumbled on his soulmate who happened to be a dom, he wouldn't disappoint them too badly.

It had been years since his word first appeared. So he had the right to be a little bit desperate.

Steve didn't know why, but by the time he got to the hotel, he was a puddle of nerves.

He figured that maybe it was the "Kas' effect" that many people had told him about.

When the door opened to let Kas into the room, Steve just knew this man was going to rock his world.

Kas was attractive and tall. Easily having a couple of inches on him.

With long curly hair, big brown eyes, and plump lips, the man looked surprisingly intimidating.

He wore a burgundy shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing his tattoos and chunky silver rings.

His pants and heavy boots were made of leather, which Steve suddenly wanted to rub himself on.

He seemed to be a lanky type, but Steve knew better than to assume anything.

As Kas languidly made his way to the bed, Steve unconsciously slid down to the floor and got on his knees, waiting for his order.

Yeah, he was a good boy like that.

There was a reason why many doms had asked to keep him despite knowing he only let his soulmate own him.

Kas wasn't any different.

The man smiled at him, dimpled and warm, making Steve woozy a bit at being praised even wordlessly.

Once Kas sat down, he spread his thighs slightly and patted a hand on his lap.

Understanding the silent command immediately, Steve climbed up on it without being told twice.

He blushed and giggled a bit when strong arms wrapped around his waist securely.

"Good boy," said Kas huskily, smelling of cigarettes and something spicy. "What do you want for your reward, sweetheart?"

Steve felt his breath hitched at that. He knew the chance wasn't high but–

"Can I kiss you, sir?" He asked coyly, playing his role to perfection.

This time, it was Kas who took a sharp intake.

Surprise, disbelief, uncertainty, hope, and finally, joy settled on the man's handsome features.

Kas smiled at him again, more genuine and hopeful.

"Baby boy, do you know that I have those words written on my left ribs my entire life?"

"Show me," Steve demanded, unable to keep up the act when he was so close to finding his soulmate.

Without protest, Kas unbuttoned his shirt and there it was, scribbled on the man's pale skin was Can I kiss you, sir? in his handwriting.

Smiling fondly, Steve traced his fingers on those words.

They sounded so sweet. And yet concerning if being put into the wrong context.

What a pair they made.

"Can you show me yours, sweetheart?" Kas asked tentatively, looking unsure despite having been so confident just a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, sure, of course," Steve scrambled up from the man's lap and blushed as he turned around to unzip and pull down his shorts.

Hearing Kas curse quietly behind him was, perhaps, the most flattering moment in his life.

He could see what kind of an image he made with his baggy sweater bunching up around his waist, white thong, and Good boy being inked on his tanned buttcheek.

Some would call it hot, sexy, or erotic.

But Steve knew how obscene he looked with those words on him.

Especially when he was face down and ass up, waiting to be fucked into oblivion.

Not that he had let anyone fuck him, yet. But he wouldn't mind if Kas did it tonight.

Steve shuddered slightly as calloused fingers brushed on his cool skin, and let out a moan when hot lips placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

Then without pausing, strong hands grabbed his hips before sharp teeth sank into his flesh, eliciting a yelp from him.

It wasn't painful. It just made Steve want to ask for more. So he turned around to do exactly that.

"Kas–"

"Call me Eddie," the man tugged him back into his lap.

"Eddie," he breathed out as he straddled the man's thighs.

"Yes, my sunshine?" Eddie smiled adoringly at him.

"Can I kiss you now?" Steve braced his hands on the broad shoulders with a raised eyebrow.

Tightening the arms around his waist, Eddie pecked him on his chin, sweet and loving.

"How about I let you kiss me for the rest of our lives, my pretty angel?"

"And I'll be yours for as long as we live?" Steve murmured against those plump lips.

"Yeah, gonna treat you right, my good boy," Eddie chuckled before drawing him into a fervent kiss.

Steve was so going to thank that Chrissy girl who had sold him her mascara and lipgloss later.

[ellenhghg]

Very short imagine of Sol visiting you at night. Thought I would feed the fandom with something small since we're all so starving ;-; Also to feed my obsession. No warnings and gender neutral :)

Sol's heart swelled with adoration as he gazed upon your sleeping form, his eyes drinking in every perfect detail - the flutter of your lashes, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, the way you clutched the blankets close as if seeking comfort. A tender smile curled his lips while warmth flooded his entire being, the aching depths of his obsession momentarily soothed by your presence.

"My love, my life, my everything…" he murmured, the devotion in his hushed tone evident as he slowly approached the bed. Kneeling beside you, he carefully brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, fingertips trailing feather-light over the soft skin of your cheek. You looked so peaceful, so beautifully vulnerable that he had to actively restrain the nearly overwhelming urge to shower you with fierce, desperate kisses.

Instead he settled for ghosting his lips over your forehead, breathing you in like a man starved before reluctantly pulling away. As always, the fragile restraint he maintained threatened to snap; it was intoxicating torment being so close to his heart's desire yet unable to fully claim you as his own. Not yet… but soon…

«Patience is key,» he reminded himself, jaw clenching with the effort it took to withdraw from your side. Rising, he crossed to the window and peered out at the night-cloaked city, hands curling into tight fists. «I've waited this long to find my soulmate, I can endure a bit longer…»

The sleeping pills he covertly administered ensured you remained oblivious to his clandestine visits; a necessary evil to guarantee they wouldn't be interrupted. Still… your lack of response, however medically induced, sparked an aching loneliness in his chest. He craved your reciprocal touch, yearned to hear his name upon your lips…

«All in due time, my pumpkin…» The thought was bittersweet yet it granted meager comfort nonetheless. Sol stayed a while longer, content to simply bask in your presence as you slumbered. But eventually he slipped away into the shadows with great reluctance, his heart clinging to the promise of tomorrow when they would meet again beneath the waking sun.

[nincompoopydoo]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ  nincompoopydoo // WIZARDING WORLD MASTERLIST

theseus scamander

⋆ caught in a crossfire [series]: Theseus and his team of Aurors are tasked with a mission to take down a recent movement formed by dark wizards and witches with the intention to erase all muggles. The night takes a turn when you arrive at the scene unknowingly and it seems you’re the next target. ⋆ in search of a grecian beast: As you, Theseus, and Newt find yourselves on a secluded Grecian beach along the Aegean Sea, an endeavor unfolds to seek out a Hippocampus. However, plans don’t turn out as expected. ⋆ for old times' sake: Theseus attempts to convince you to leave your desk. ⋆ happy christmas, dung brain: you visit the Scamander household on Christmas, seeing Theseus after a long time and the two of you’re not sure what to do with all these feelings. ⋆ bertie botts: Theseus gets injured during a fight and you’re mad. ⋆ overnight shift [series]: you and Theseus were known rivals among the Aurors at the British Ministry of Magic. ⋆ false signs: unsaid feelings turn into what seemed as unrequited love to Theseus but it turns out you’re in love with him as much as he is in love with you. ⋆ tea at newt's: newt plays accidental matchmaker. ⋆ envy: you’re jealous, although you hate to admit it, of Theseus’ rather flirtatious assistant. ⋆ trespassing: trespassing during a mission leads to a life or death situation when you and Theseus find yourselves entangled with a dangerous dark wizard. ⋆ war and anguish: theseus returns home as a war hero but you’re engaged and he doesn’t know what to do with himself and his feelings for you. ⋆ crimson cheeks and ivory snow: you spend a snowy day learning to ice-skate with the help of your crush, Theseus. ⋆ behind the sofa: you rant to Newt about his brother’s constant teasing at the workplace which led you to seek a hiding spot behind the sofa when Theseus unexpectedly shows up at his brother’s place. ⋆ shadows on ancient stone walls: soulmate AU: Where the outline of your shadow is your soulmate.

newt scamander

⋆ scamander: you are constantly being used by a ‘friend’ of yours but when you reached your limits, Newt is there to comfort you.

james potter

⋆ healed [series]: you and James had been the best of friends since your Hogwarts days. Thus, you grew strong feelings for the boy, feelings stronger than just plain platonic although you knew about James’ extreme infatuation for the beautiful and intelligent ginger, Lily James. ⋆ you owe me butterbeer: you and James are best friends and you are constantly helping him get Lily’s attention, even if you didn’t like doing so, simply because of your crush on James himself. However, things take a turn and James catches on a little later that he may not truly have feelings for the redhead but instead for someone who has been there with him all along. ⋆ mistletoe and holy moly, are you trying to kiss me?: James is trying to get you to kiss him under the mistletoe.

sirius black

⋆ flowers: you’re the quirky and socially awkward girl that Sirius has a crush on but his flirting ways seem to not work on you. ⋆ prejudice: you’re a Slytherin who stood up for a Ravenclaw against your own housemates which caused you to be attacked. Having been sent to the infirmary, you’re met with the charming Sirius Black.

remus lupin

⋆ alive and true: having found a lost friend, living in the countryside of Yorkshire, feelings of once hidden affection start to bloom in the need to be alive and good things to be real. ⋆ war changes you: Remus comes to visit you at the Hogwarts infirmary involuntarily sparking some old feelings you might have had for each other after not seeing each other for so long.

fred weasley

⋆ good, pure, and beautiful: the Leaky Cauldron serves as a sanctuary to drink your problems away for the night but a certain ginger always seems to find his way to you. ⋆ sheperd's pie: you desperately need a break from studying for your upcoming OWLs which left Fred Weasley, your best friend, the responsibility of coaxing you to do just that despite you being quite headstrong. ⋆ near death: Fred Weasley dies. Nearly.

george weasley

⋆ where two lonesomes meet: in the midst of a Christmas market sits a bench where two walls meet. Here is where two lonesomes meet. ⋆ nature mourns with the mourning: you and George finally find solace after the Battle of Hogwarts. ⋆ five to four: you comfort George after the Battle of Hogwarts. ⋆ snowball fight at midnight, that's christmas to me: where George simply had the audacity to force you to a battle of snowball in the middle of the night, out in the cold.

[saradika]

— beneath the mask

din djarin x f!reader

rated t - 1.3k

tags: medieval!au, light angst, anxiety, arranged marriage, soulmate au, reader has a mother & father

prompt: "I wanted it to be you, I wanted it to be you so badly” from the writing challenge hosted by the amazing and lovely @moonlight-prose 💖

when a mysterious stranger wins your hand at the tournament, you can't help but wonder about his intentions

With each step down the aisle, your legs threaten to give out.

A clicking of your teeth as you tremble, before you're gritting your jaw, biting your anxiety back. You have a reputation to uphold, even if you're only the daughter of a lord from a lesser house.

You're still a lady.

And this marriage would ensure a home for you. Protection. More than, if this man is what he says he is.

But a part of you desperately wishes that it was someone else at the end of the aisle.

You'd searched for a long time. For the glimpses that flash in your dreams at night. Knowing that he was out there - the one you had begun to think of as yours.

Your soulmate.

Never managing to meet the same eyes that reflect back at you in the darkness, just before you wake. Not once in the hundreds, thousands of people you’ve looked at, throughout your years.

And when none were found, you slowly gave up. Knowing the world was too large and you were too small, too poor, to seek them out.

Eventually agreeing to the match that your mother and father arranged.

If you could not have him, then you did not want anyone.

And now - the figure that waits for you stands tall.

Encased in gleaming armor, showing none of the nerves that wrack you. Making you wonder if you should have protested. Taken the path of the unwed, even if there was hardship in your future.

The stranger had won your favor, in the tournament. That is how the story will be told, passed on by your father.

Looking back, you remember very little from it. Knowing deep down that the winner would be the one to have your hand, whether you liked it or not. So much of it had turned to haze, as you had sat frozen there.

All but too nervous to watch, as weapons clashed, shields splintering.

Men you had known and grown up with falling beneath the sword of the mysterious man, clad in silver armor.

A Mandalorian, it was rumored.

Something from stories, you didn't know they still existed. An ancient clan of knights and warriors, honoring weapons and myths over sworn deities. Never revealing their faces to outsiders, and sometimes even to their own.

He had never killed any of them, and there was some comfort in that.

But that didn't mean he did not wound.

That he wasn't vicious, ferocious on the battlefield. Driven by an unseen force. Unrelenting, even when blood was drawn - splattering a bright crimson against his armor.

Showing just how he came to earn his station. The leader of his tribe, from the whispers you heard. Traveling far - slipping into the last few open brackets in the tournament, just as the first morning was starting.

Ripping through them all, in the days that followed.

You were given as the prize, in the end.

Even before the day ends, you would belong to him - ferried off to a new life tomorrow.

And this is what also slows your feet.

Wondering why such a man would come for you.

At the end of the aisle, you halt. The clergymany is speaking, but it's all white noise. Your own eyes wide and face solemn as you stare at your betrothed - your features reflected back at you in the tinted glass of his visor.

Acutely aware that you haven't seen his face. Not knowing what your husband was to look like.

Was he younger than you? Or older... older than your father?

Was his face kind, or was it as sharp as his movements? Was it all snarling teeth, beneath?

Were his eyes blue, or green, or just maybe... brown? Like his?

You don't know. You think not. Leaving you to wonder how you will bear it - to spend each day staring into their eyes while dreaming of anothers.

It's only when a voice raises that you're snapped from your thoughts. Realizing that the ceremony is waiting for you.

Managing, with a stammer, to repeat the words. To pledge yourself - your life and love - to this stranger.

The words repeated after, a low voice layering with metal. The shaking of your hands is still visible when they reach out to meet his, the tips of yours resting against wide, steady palms.

Covered in gloves but solid, like the rest of him.

Only the peek of tanned skin visible when he peels the glove from his hand. A small comfort coming in the warmth of his hand, as you slip the ring on his finger, settling it just above a scarred knuckle.

The careful brush of his fingers - a calming stroke against your skin, when he slips a matching one on yours.

Gentle, after everything.

Not him.

But perhaps, not a monster.

The celebrations swirl past you. There's music you don't remember. A meal that sits heavy in your stomach, from the meager amounts you managed to swallow.

A smile plastered on - assuring your excitement to family and friends - all while you worry about the hours to come.

Will he be as gentle as he was during the ceremony?

Or will it be more like the battlefield?

These thoughts linger, as the hours pass. Until the sun dips below the horizon, until the stars blanket the sky.

And then, you're alone.

Waiting in the finest room prepared for him in the guest wing. The pretty, ivory gown stripped from you, replaced with something thin and fine and silver - hand-sewn and intended to please him.

Pacing, until you hear the heavy steps approaching - as he returns from a meeting with your father, your dowry and your life handed over.

Leaving you frozen in place, as the door opens. Where he lingers, filling the space.

A different man than before, you think.

There had not been a slope to his shoulders, the way he moves as if afraid to frighten you.

His voice is different too - soft now, coaxing.

"I wish our meeting had been under more pleasant circumstances." Your husband tells you, as the door slowly shuts behind him.

Trapping you, now. The iron latch heavy, as it locks into place.

"But I could not bear to stand by." He continues, that hard edge creeping into his voice again, "You must understand."

"I don't." You manage - your brow pinched, shifting the smallest step backwards as he moves forward.

He goes still, at your retreat.

"Do you not, ner kar’ta?" His head tilts, "Do you not know why I have come?"

The shake of your head is small. Not understanding the name he calls you, his intentions.

He hesitates then, for a second. Before his hands are reaching - grasping the edge of his helmet. Slipping it from his head, as his head dips.

His hair is dark, beneath. Messy and curling, greying at the temples, down to the scruff that lines his jaw beneath plush lips and the curve of his nose.

And his eyes. That pretty shade of brown, the dark fan of his eyelashes.

You know them. Though you've never seen them, yourself.

For a moment, you can't breathe. Frozen for an entirely new reason - starting back at the eyes that you've seen so often.

"It's you," You manage. The words are no more than a soft gasp.

He lets you touch him, then. Fingertips tracing his jaw, those eyes slipping shut when your fingers brush the nape of his neck. Somehow knowing how the curls would feel against your fingers, already knowing each detail of his face.

Hidden deep down, revealed bit by bit in your sleep.

Only now, do you see all of him.

And only now, do you lean in. Your head tipping towards him, just as his forehead presses against yours. And it's now that you understand the warmth of his touch - the way it seems to soak into your skin. A lost piece of you, now becoming complete.

You hadn’t been able to find him - so he had found you, instead.

Unable to help the smile, as the dark pit in your stomach blooms into spring.

I wanted it to be you, you think - as your heart finally starts to beat again. I wanted it to be you so badly.

There's a hitch in his breath, with your touch. Fingers that stretch out and then curl, until you're taking them yourself, slipping yours between them.

"Now do you know?" Your husband murmurs, in the voice that you know as well as his eyes.

And you do - the answer coming easily, as you nod, "Because you're mine."

"Yes," He smiles.

"Yours."

i cant stop writing soft!soulmate din 💖 thank you for reading!!

ner kar’ta - my heart

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE WINTER KEEP (2/2)

Summary: You have fled the Red Keep, the Greens and Alicent's poison. It is time to play your hand and herald your mother's ascension on a larger scale. You will fly to Winterfell, treat with the Lord Cregan Stark and await your brother. You are weak and a girl, no longer. You are a dragon ready to spill blood to ensure your promises are kept.

[Part 2 to The Highest Tower]

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader 

Word Count: 5631

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd, pretty sure I'm missing something...

Masterlist

Laesuvion had taken to the skies through a hole in the dragon pit. Swift and lethal and stealthy as a white dragon against dark clouds could be. Come morning the whole of Kings Landing would know that you had fled. Come morning the usurper King and his council of snakes would be plotting your demise. You would need every advantage, every inch of distance you could gain before they found the wherewithal to send men after you. The Queen could protect you no longer, your time as her ward had passed. As Laesuvion crested the skies above the Red Keep, and you urged him north, you left just as you had arrived all those years ago. Rhaenyra’s only daughter. Her greatest supporter. Her most loyal weapon.

It took some days to fly north, you rested only once. On the second night of flying, setting down in the swamplands just beyond Greywater Watch. You swaddled yourself in your flying cloak and huddled in a hollow tree as Laesuvion hunted. Sleep came in fitful bursts, each gust of wind and animal sound convincing you that despite your head start from having flown through night and day and night again, the king's loyal men had somehow found you. You awoke around dawn to find Laesuvion’s bulk curved around your tree, his breathing deep and rhythmic in sleep. You crept toward his front claws and the charred mass caged there.

Your first food in some hours, since the day prior when you had polished off the meagre supplies you had smuggled out of the Keep. You tore charred clumps from what might have once been a deer or livestock from a nearby farm. You set these aside in case Laesuvion woke hungry, as you shredded his offering until– There, protected by the cocoon of hardened char, well-cooked meat. You gorged yourself.

You took to the skies an hour later, dehydration your greatest enemy so close to the searing sun. You wrapped your cloak around you, tied yourself firmly to the saddle and tried desperately to catch another snatch of rest. Through that morning, that evening and night, Laesuvion tore through the skies of Westeros.

You landed in the Northlands on the third dawn of your travels. The south gate of Winterfell rose to greet you, a small host of men waiting under its shelf. Dehydrated, exhausted, terrified, you could have wept with joy.

“Holt!” You startled. It was a woman.

“I mean no harm.” You dismounted Laesuvion carefully, moving purposefully to disguise your limb's feeble shakes. At eye level, though separated by a good fifty yards you repeated, “I mean you no harm.”

“Your dragon?” The woman demanded.

The men shifted nervously as Laesuvion gave a chest-deep rumbling purr. “Merely glad to have found our destination.”

“Come forward.”

“To whom do I speak?” You inched forward, Laesuvion nosing at your back.

“Sara Snow.” Up close you found Sara Snow to be very beautiful. With ebony hair twisted in intricate braids and eyelashes so long they caught snowflakes. A true northern beauty, with a sword strapped to her back and a pelt secured to her shoulders.

“I seek an audience with Lord Cregan Stark.”

“He is in a meeting with his men.”

“He will want to speak to me.” You smiled pleasantly, “He owes loyalty to my mother, the Queen.”

“House Stark owes loyalty to King Viserys.” Sara jutted her chin, “No oaths were sworn to his lady-wife.”

“You misunderstand me, Sara Snow. I speak of my mother, the Realms Delight. Queen Rhaenyra to whom Lord Rickon swore fealty.”

The men sent furtive glances to one another. Sara paused and then curtsied. “Forgive me, Princess. The North had not heard word of you for some years now, we feared you had been lost.”

“Ah, I have been kept to the Keep for some time.”

“Winterfell is most honoured to–” Sara turned.

The sound of crunching snow, hurried footsteps, quickened breath. One of Sara’s men toppled to the ground as a dire wolf barrelled through his legs. Pitch black but frosted with snow, it careened toward you. The man giving chase shouted the wolf’s name, skidded around the line of men, and stumbled to a stop mere inches in front of you. In what seemed to be perfect, practised coordination, Laesuvion jammed his snout into your back as the dire wolf danced around his owner's legs. In a heap of limbs, winter cloaks, and riding leathers, you collapsed on the man and fell to the snow.

You wheezed; the air knocked from your lungs. Your limbs shook as you scrambled up, plating a hand on the man's face as leverage.

“Sir.” You hissed; with all the royal poise you could muster. Alicent would be appalled. Your mother would be beyond amused.

“My apologies, lady.” The man grabbed your hips to lift you from him. Mortified you slapped his hands away and fought to your feet. “If you would just let me–”

You struggled, “Unhand me!”

“Here, just–” You planted a knee in his groin. He tried to curl up beneath you.

“Get off me!” You gave him a harsh shove and fumbled to your feet. “How dare–”

Sara Snow launched into raucous laughter. Hand clutching her side as she howled in delight. Her men shuffled as if wondering whether to intervene. Your assailant hobbled to his feet, one handheld protectively over his front, the other outstretched toward you as if to keep you at a distance.

You whirled toward Sara, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Apologies, lady.” The man heaved, his dire wolf prancing about his feet. “It was an honest accident. Shadow has been tense of late.”

“You let your wolf run wild in such a way?” You sneered.

“As wild as you allow your dragon to be.”

As if on cue, Laesuvion pressed the length of his head to your back again. The dire wolf herded his owner.

“Laesuvion?” You turned, pressing your freezing fingers to the scales of his nose. “Lykirī, iōrās aril.” (be calm, stay back).

He huffed and shoved at your hands. You toppled again; this time the man caught you against his chest. Laesuvion shuffled back, his tail swishing through the snow in a great arch. A growl rumbled up his throat as one of Sara’s men tried to approach.

“Ah.” The man smiled down at you in understanding.

You tried shoving at him again, but his grip held firm. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I am a wolf pup or a precious stone, or some covetous thing.”

“You are more precious than both I fear, and certainly something to covet.” He held your forearms to contain your struggle. “I have waited many years to find my Promised. I did not imagine you would be so violent.”

Sara coughed, “Welcome brother. Might I be the first to introduce you to our Princess, daughter of Rhaenyra. She has come from King’s Landing to treat with you.” She sketched a bow, her lips still trembling, “Your Highness, my brother, the Lord Cregan Stark.”

You gaped, your mouth opening and closing. A myriad of emotions warmed your face. Bone deep mortification. The purest delight. Wonderment. Utter confusion. Behind you, the dire wolf, Shadow, ran playfully around Laesuvion. Your dragon moved to face the tiny yipping creature, stealing his warm breath from your back. You shivered the cold striking through you like a physical blow.

“Princess?” Cregan Stark asked softly. “Are you well?”

“I am cold and hungry and tired, and I wish to bathe.” You said in a rush, utterly horrified with yourself.

But your Promised only smiled, “Of course.”

Cregan Stark was a most gracious host. In the hours since your arrival, you had been given quarters in the same hall as that of the Starks. A maid had gone about filling the tub in your rooms with water warmed on the fire, to which she added fragrant oils and sweet-smelling soap. As you bathed the maid returned – Atara, you learned – to ply you with cheeses and fresh bread, soft meats, and stewed root vegetables. Once you had been thoroughly scrubbed and fed, you dressed in the soft night clothes Atara had brought with her and curled up in the thick expanse of blankets atop your bed.

You were allowed to sleep for far longer than you might have suspected. Only being roused by Atara once the sun had well and truly set.

“Your Highness, Lord Stark asks that you join his family for dinner.”

You tumbled out of bed, and over to the dresser where you let her braid back your hair in the northern style. She handed you a thick winter dress that Sara had sent for you to borrow and allowed you to don it yourself. Stepping in only to tighten the taught laces at its back. You delighted in the simple joy of dressing yourself, so used to the Queen’s maids who scrubbed you raw and laced you tightly into dresses all shaded the same insidious green.  

Atara whispered to you as she led you through the halls of Winterfell, “Lord Stark is a good and generous man. He has been Warden of the North for some years now, he is a just leader and kind to those in his employ. It is his uncle, who was his regent, and his power-hungry cousins you must watch.”

“Will they be at dinner?”

“No, they are north and east in Karhold. Though his sister will be present.”

“Sara Snow. She is his sister born? I assumed the Lord was her brother-at-arms, not a true blood relative.”

“Indeed,” Atara corralled you down another cavernous hall. “She is his sister and among his most trusted advisors.”

“Why does she bear the name Snow?”

“It is the surname given to those born out of wedlock in the north.”

“And this is not an issue in the north?”

Atara considered it for a moment, “For some it is. But Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

You wondered if she had been sent to sing his praises or if the people of the north were truly so enamoured with their lord.

“Is he not married?” You asked hesitantly, the thought had not yet crossed your mind.

Atara grinned, “He is not, Your Highness.”

“Nor betrothed?”

“Nor does he have a lover.” She assured. “We servants would know.”

“Thank you, you have been most enlightening.” You smiled as you reached the Stark’s private dining hall, “I will see to myself tonight. Please, enjoy your evening.”

Atara curtsied, “Have a most wonderful night, Your Highness.”

You most certainly would.

The Starks took private dinners in a humble hall. Three places had been set at the far end of the dining table with a generous spread laid out between them. Cregan and Sara looked up from their conversation as you crossed to your seat.

“My apologies, Lord Stark, Lady Snow.” You bowed your head. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.”

Sara snorted into her cup, “Please, Princess, formalities are for the feasting hall and for those whose names you cannot remember.”

“Sister,” Cregan hissed.

You fought a smile, “Forgive me, Sara, I would not have you think I had forgotten your name already.”

“How does the dress fit?”

“Wonderfully,” You swished from side to side, “You are most generous.”

“I have never had a sister,” she said thoughtfully.

Cregan spluttered into his cup. You grinned, “Nor I.”

You thought only briefly of Heleana and her mother and their glittering cage.

Cregan leapt from his seat to pull yours out for you, “Please, ignore my sister, she is overly friendly.”

“Please, ignore my brother,” Sara mocked. “He is overly nervous.”

“Tis not everyday one meets their Promised.” He met your eyes fleetingly.

What a soft demeanour for the Warden of the North, you thought. Though you supposed you had smiled more today than you had in all your years in the Red Keep, so perhaps today was not a good judge of anyone’s character. You allowed him to serve up your plate as Sara kept up a steady stream of conversation. First marvelling at the fit of her dress on you, then the colour of your eyes, your hair in northern braids, your improved state after some well-needed rest.

“Is she not a sight, dear brother?” She teased.

“I apologise for my earlier state of unkempt.” You winced. You had hit the Lord of this castle, your Promised rather hard.

“I thought you looked marvellous.” Cregan argued, then seemed to realise what he’d said and hurried to add, “We have received reports that your dragon has taken to the Wolfswood.”

You exhaled slowly, “Laesuvion flew through day and night twice over to get me here so swiftly. He will be in need of food and rest as much as I.”

“Laesuvion. That is a beautiful name.” He said softly. “We can send meat if you wish?”

“He is a good hunter; he has fed himself since I was ten.”

“Still to have flown so fiercely, with so little rest…”

“It does not do well to deprive a dragon of its hunt. Especially in such times as these.”

Cregan placed his utensils down carefully, “Princess, what has brought you to Winterfell?”

You lowered your fork. Good, time to stop dancing around the subject. From the pocket of your skirt, you withdrew the King’s missive.

“I am not sure how far and fast word has travelled,” You looked to the siblings and frowned. “King Viserys is dead, and Aegon has been crowned in my mother's place. The night of his coronation Queen Alicent gave me this letter for you, Lord Stark, she wishes for us to marry.”

Cregan broke the seal of the King’s letter and read silently.

“There are worse things than to be told to marry ones Promised,” Sara joked lamely. You smiled weakly in the tense silence.

Finally, Cregan folded the letter and turned to you, “Why were you with the Queen, not with your mother on Dragonstone?”

“I have been the Queen’s ward for some nine years now.”

“And are you loyal to her?”

“As a dog is to its owner.”

“They are very loyal in the North,” Sara said.

“I was traded to her as reparations when my brother gorged her son's eye.” You said plainly, “I was her possession, but I remain my mother’s daughter.”

“House Stark swore fealty to Princess Rhaenyra when she was made heir,” Cregan watched you carefully. “There has never been a Stark who has forgotten an oath.”

“I too have made a promise to my mother. I intend to keep it.”

Cregan brandished the letter, “This offers your hand in return for the North’s neutrality in the coming conflict. Is that what you wish?”

“May I speak plainly, my lord?”

“Please.”

“That letter is likely a forgery by the Dowager Queen’s hand. She is mistaken on many fronts, I fear, the least of which was Aegon’s ascension to King. I do not wish to go to war with my kin, but if it becomes inevitable I would rather do so with strong allies and in support of my mother.”

His head tilted, “House Stark is already an ally of your mother.”

“Yes,” You folded your hands on the table. “I should tell you, Lord Stark. My mother has sworn to marry me to my Promised for my service as her spy in the Red Keep.”

“You wish us to marry?”

“I wish to offer you my hand, outside my mother’s promise or the Queen’s demands.” You cleared your throat, and just as you had carefully prepared on your journey here you said, “I have been trained in the ways of the court, I will be of use to you in councils and in handling the affairs of your territory. I am of royal breeding, you will be made Prince-Consort, our children Princes, and Princesses of the realm. I have dragon eggs for their cradles and Valyrian blood for their veins. I would ask only that you allow Laesuvion to stay with me in the North. If not, I shall wait here until such a time as my brother Jacaerys comes to treat with you, that I might return with him to Dragonstone.”

You watched the Lord, his eyes dancing with an unnamed light as he listened to you. “I will need time.”

“Of course, my Lord, speak with your advisors.”

“You misunderstand him, Princess.” Sara grinned.

Cregan smiled, “I will not marry you hastily. I will need to summon my family and prepare a feast. It is a special thing, for those of our station, to be given leave to marry our Promised.”

“I–” You were unsure what you expected. “I suppose it is.”

Sara clapped gleefully, “Shall we call for dessert?”

You wore the soft nightclothes once more as you sat at your vanity and penned your mother a letter.

Mother,

How I have missed you. Know that I have thought of you often and never strayed from my mission nor my loyalty to you.

I have fled King's Landing and taken the Lord Hands life with me. Though the smallfolk have no mind to protest whichever Targaryen collects their taxes, you have many allies in the Red Keep. I have interred a list of those Lords and Ladies who remain loyal to you as well as those I have heard of beyond and some whom we may turn with careful diplomacy.

I am at Winterfell with my Promised, Lord Cregan Stark, whom I will marry in the coming weeks. With your blessing, of course. I await Jacaerys, with news of our family and our strategy. In the meanwhile, I intend to discuss what supplies and men Winterfell may have to offer you.

Mostly I am writing to you because I can. I am overwhelmed with the freedom to do so, to be able to tell you once more how much I love you. I cannot imagine how this week has been for you, know that though we are separated I am your most fierce supporter.

I have had a thought, in my hours here, about how far Winterfell is from the capital. How far we will be if we are forced into battle and bloodshed. Perhaps you might consider sending Joffery here, to mine and my soon-to-be Lord Husband's care.

I hope you are well, Mother. I love you from the very depths of my heart.

You signed the letter with a careful flourish and set it aside. You would ask Atara where you might find a raven-master to have it sent. You touched your fingers to it softly, your first contact with your family in nearly a decade. To tell your mother that you were preparing for marriage and war.

As you blew out your candles and settled into bed, you hoped your mother would like Lord Cregan Stark.

On your fourth morning in Winterfell, you took morning tea with Sara. She had taken lengths to make you comfortable in the days since your arrival, and you took great joy in breaking your fast with her each morning. Today, you spent the early hours humming and haring over the tiny sample cakes you had been sent to taste for the upcoming feast. As you ate, Sara told you all that she could about the castle, the arriving lords, the Stark territory, and their histories.

Northern marriage traditions, you had learned, were not so different from those celebrated at King’s Landing, there would be the exchanging of cloaks and binding words spoken before gods but there would also be a hunt. Women such as yourselves would not be invited but you would find your own fun, Sara assured.

“It is tradition to have the pelts in your quarters and the meats on the feasting table.”

You lifted a citrusy cake between your thumb and forefinger, “Husband and wife share quarters here?”

“Most,” Sara said thoughtfully, “Though I’m sure Cregan would accommodate you if it is different in the south.”

“What happens if their hunt is unsuccessful?”

“I imagine there will be much embarrassment among the North, that we could not bring our Princess quarry for her wedding table.” Sara snatched the half-eaten cake from your hands and winked, “Fear not, Cregan is a good hunter.”

“If he is not,” You smiled fiendishly, “I suppose the two of us will have to find meats for the feast ourselves.”

Sara snorted, “I think my brother would be rather put out at being unable to provide you with a gift on your wedding day. But the look on his face as we return from our own hunt is almost worth it.”

You jolted, “Am I to bring him a gift?”

“You have brought him dragon eggs.”

“For our children.” You argued.

“For his heirs,” She assured, “I think he is already downtrodden at the idea of only being able to bring you fur and meat.”

“I bring only scales and fire.”

“You will be a very warm family.”

“And very well-fed.”

Sara snatched another cake from you, “Only if you keep eating all of these before I get a taste!”

You guffawed. “I am hungry, and they are so tiny!”

“They need be, so you can keep eating.”

“And I shall!”

“Your Highness, Lady Snow,” Atara curtsied as she entered, “Lord Stark has requested your presence in the courtyard.”

“Another lord has arrived?” Sara sank her teeth into another teacake. “Which house does he hail from?”

“No Lord, my Lady.” Atara looked to you uneasily, “A Prince. Of House Targaryen.”

After nearly nine years kept apart by the waters of Blackwater Bay, and three long days separated by your duties, the time had come. You caught your first look at your eldest brother as you left the comfort of the Great Keep and nearly crumpled to the ground. Sara laid a steadying hand at your shoulder as Atara whispered sweet comforts. But nothing could prepare you for the sight laid out in the courtyard.

Jacaerys, with Vermax perched atop the walls of the keep. Jacaerys, with tousled dark hair. Jacaerys, once the awkward boy you followed dutifully, now an emissary of the Queen. Jacaerys, your brother. Jacaerys, your mother’s son.

“Jacaerys!” You ran. Past Sara and Atara, past Cregan and his warning cry. You ran. Almost straight into the end of your brother’s sword. You pulled to a halt, the blade a whisper away from your sternum, “Jacaerys?”

“Sister,” He sneered. “How far you are from your castle.”

“I have escaped.”

“You have been sent as an emissary of the usurper and his cunt-mother.”

“She did not tell you?” Your arms slumped at your side. “Mother sent me as a spy, she and Daemon trusted me to–”

“Her trust was misplaced. You have betrayed us.”

“I have come here to rally the North for our mother’s claim, just as you have.”

“You have come here to better your station.”

“I am a Princess.” You hissed, confused, and insulted.

“You are Princess of nothing, of no house.”

“I am of House Targaryen,” You pressed forward until the tip of his sword tore through the bodice of your dress and blood welled. You turned, held out your hand and gave Cregan a pleading look, he shifted but stayed back. “I am Princess of loyalty, of oaths and duty. I have come to the North to escape the Greens, to tell our mother, the Queen, all that I have discovered these years.”

“Where was loyalty,” Jacaerys shook with rage. “When they dragged us before the Iron Throne and called our mother a whore and our brothers bastards? Where was duty, when Lucerys was nearly stripped of his birthright? Where were you when Laenor died? When Rhaenys flew to our mother's side to tell her of–”

“Our father is dead?” You whispered.

“Your father is Daemon.” He growled under his breath.

You reeled back, “My father is Laenor Velaryon.”

“It is Daemon. He told us so himself when he married Mother.”

“Daemon and mother are married?”

His sword sagged slightly, “The Greens did not tell you? What of Viserys and Aegon?”

“Our grandsire and uncle?”

Jacaerys looked pained, “Our brothers.”

You fell to your knees, shoved your face in your hands and wept. Jacaerys jerked his sword backward and staggered away from you as Cregan rushed to your side.

“Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm over you. “What is the matter?”

“The question of Driftmark’s succession,” Jacaerys stared at you in horror. “Where were you?”

“I did not know!” You sobbed. “I did not know!”

“Otto Hightower said you would not see us, that you felt abandoned and betrayed when Mother gave you to the Greens.”

Cregan pulled you closer to him as Jacaerys inched forward. He growled, “Stand back. You have no enemies among the Starks. Do not make one.”

“I went willingly, for mother, for Lucerys.” You glared up at your brother. “You watched me! I traded my life; you watched me do it!”

“Otto Hightower–”

“Is dead!” You bared your teeth. “I fled King’s Landing, and I killed the man who usurped our mother, and you as her heir. I am loyal, I am steadfast, I am your greatest supporter as heir.”

“Tis true.” Cregan attested. “She has come to the North in support of your mother's claim. She has offered her hand to me, and we have talked much of giving your mother’s children sanctuary here.”

“You are betrothed?” Jacaerys whispered.

“I am.” You said proudly.

Cregan smiled at you softly, “The North is yours, my Prince. So long as my Promised wills it.”

“Sister.” Was all Jacaerys could say. “Sister.”

“Come,” Cregan lifted you to your feet. “My betrothed will catch a cold out here, let us speak inside.”

.

Cregan sat you gently by the fire swaddling you in the great expanse of his cloak. Sara brought tea to your side while your brothers sat at the other end of the room to discuss politics.

“Did you hear?”

Sara blew on her cup, “I heard a lot.”

“Did you hear what he said about my father?”

“That you lost one? Or that…” She pursed her lips.

“That I am Daemon’s bastard.”

“I did.”

“Do you think Cregan heard?” You burrowed into his cloak.

She gave you a secret smile, “Does it matter? You are a Princess, twice over. And Cregan keeps me around, does he not?”

“I only meant…” You turned away. “I fear he may think me liable to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Will you?”

You stared at her, “Cregan has been kind to me, listened to me, protected me – given me more than anyone has ever offered me. And he is my Promised. Why should I stray from him?”

“Then there is no reason to fret.”

“And the King’s Hand?”

“What of him?”

“I killed him.” You half hid your face in your teacup.

“Do you regret it?” Sara asked curiously. “It is no small thing, to kill a man.”

“He has haunted my family for generations. I would do it again.”

Sara shrugged, “Then we will speak no more of it, justice has been served. I’m sure Cregan will more than agree.”

“Will he?”

“He has been forced to make decisions even further North of here, at the wall.” She took a long sip of tea and stared into the flames. “Some even I do not agree with. But we are family, and he is your Promised. So, it does not matter, does it?”

“No.” You stared into your cup. “I suppose not.”

“Princess!” The man in question came over with a charming grin, “Your brother has offered to escort you at our wedding.”

Jacaerys looked at you timidly, “If you will have me, sister.”

You looked first to Cregan who nodded, and then to Jacaerys with a soft smile. “Of course, brother. Nothing would please me more.”

The letter from your mother arrived another four days later. It came to you clutched in Jacaerys’ hand with the seal broken. He had caught the raven just south of Winterfell as he, Cregan and the Northmen returned from the ceremonial hunt.

“I apologise, sister, I have never been accused of being patient.”

You scoffed, “Some things do not change.”

“Indeed,” Jacaerys said rather gravely. “I must ask a small favour of you before I give you this letter. It is on behalf of myself and our mother.”

You straightened, “Of course brother.”

“You will not open it until after you have been blissfully wedded to Lord Stark.” He paused at your dubious look, “Mother has words she wishes to share only after your wedding. Congratulations and such.”

“I suppose that is agreeable.” You took the letter carefully, “Though we require her blessings to move forward.”

“And you have them.” He tapped the letter. “In there. You shall marry your Promised tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

And so, you married him that night.

The Godswood was eerie in the darkness of night. Though lit by the torches of countless Northmen, it felt as if the darkness were reaching cool unnatural fingers toward your procession. Coaxing you, in your red-black Maiden Cloak toward the foot of the weirwood heart tree, where your Lord-Promised, his uncle, and the dire wolf Shadow wait. Jacaerys held your hand tightly as if frightened to let you go. Around you, Lords and honoured guests planted their torches in the snow, lighting the way for you and your brother. The wind whistled through the silence, broken only by the great rumbling in Laesuvion’s chest where he perched on the lip of the keep’s gate.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Called Bennard Stark.

Jacaerys whispered your name, then cleared his throat in embarrassment and announced it proudly, "Daughter of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Cregan, of House Stark,” Your Promised sent you a small secret smile, “Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Jacaerys, of the House Velaryon, who is her brother and Prince." Jacaerys gave your hand a firm squeeze as he gave you to Cregan.

"Princess,” Lord Bennard made an admirable effort to say your name without disdain, “Will you take this man?"

You took Cregan’s large warm hands in your own and smiled, “I take this man.”

Silently, hands joined, you knelt to the cold earth. Around you, the Lords of the North fell to their knees and bowed their heads in deference. Foreheads pressed together, you and Cregan offered silent prayers to the Old Gods. When you stood as one, Sara was there in her uncle's place, a cloak of thick, luscious fur in the silver-grey of House Stark.

You tipped your head back as Cregan fiddled with the ties of your Maiden’s Cloak. You smiled at the sky as he struggled gently against your neck. Finally, it loosened, there was a brief shock of cold and then there was wonderous heat, the furred collar tickling your chin. You look to Cregan then, donned in his colours, wrapped in his protection. You smile softly at one another and lean into a soft kiss.

The black sky lights up with swashes of red as Laesuvion spits fire at the stars.

All at once sound returns to the Godswood as the witnesses of your nuptials cheer, chief among them is your brother. You laugh in delight as Cregan grips your cheeks and plants another kiss on your lips. Shadow yips at your heels as your husband sweeps you up into his arms and carries you toward the Great Hall.

He whispers sweet promises for your future, and you have never been more grateful to know how fiercely a Stark is at keeping their word.

It was the wolf’s hour when the festivities swelled through the Great Hall and you found yourself drawn to a quiet corner. You excused yourself from your husband by pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. He smiled softly at you and trailed his fingers from yours as you walked toward the hearth roaring at the far end of the hall. You pulled your mother's letter from your pocket and pressed your fingers against her seal as if you could fuse the two halves back into a whole. She and Jacaerys would not mind, you were sure, it was your wedding day after all, and you craved an inch of your mother’s presence.

You unfolded her letter and read:

My dearest girl,

I have never doubted you and I do not do so now.

You have my blessings. Marry the Lord Cregan Stark and take joy in your Promised. I will entrust Baela and Rhaena to bring your young brothers into your care.

You have served me well, which is why I write to you now, though my heart tells me to spare you.

Aemond has taken Lucerys’ life. War has come.

You looked up gripping the letter until your fingers drew indents in the paper and made desperate eye contact with Jacaerys’ pained face. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob tore from your throat, drowned by the thundering roar of Laesuvion overhead. Cregan stood, fighting to stumble his way toward you, as the walls of Winterfell rattled with your fury.

Nine years you had spent in the Red Keep, learning your enemies inside and out. Carefully ushering pieces across a board too vast for you to comprehend, hoping desperately you could stop a war conceived long before you. It all narrowed to this moment. Wrapped in the cloak of your husband’s house, framed by the hearth fire, as your dragon raged above.

Your Brother. Your Dragon. Your Husband.

By Blood. By Fire. By the Old God’s Promise.

You would avenge your brother and bring war to the Greens.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 15 I was born something

Chapter 15 of Moonlight

A/N- Soulmatism is both being called to power at the same time, one shrouded by darkness and the other illuminated by bright flames.

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy and sexual harassment, ser gwayne (not bad I just want to say he's in this chapter tehe) angst!!, fluff!!, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x05-and the very beginning of 2x06

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

He listened to your breaths as they came and went. They’re calm, and the most sweetest song.

Worry once plagued him, it clashed into him the moment he saw you falling under that fainting spell, he was lucky to have been so close otherwise, you would have hit the ground. Yet he didn't take that as a sign of luck at that moment. His worry brought out the worst of his anger he is willing to admit, but why shouldn’t he be upset?

He saw you fall, you could have been dying, and there’s nothing that he could’ve done to prevent death from taking you away from him, so all he knew how to be was desperate. There was no other emotion that would’ve felt right, not even as the maester was checking you.

Did it help in that situation? No, you would have told him that, his mother would have told him that, but he didn’t care, he was terrified until the exact moment the maester revealed you were with child with twins. He felt a bliss wash over him at that moment, like the sun breaking through dark clouds made by a raging storm.

Yet his worry was all but gone, it lingers even still, like sprinkling rain after the worst of the storm. He admires you as you sleep, he admires the way the sun kisses your soft skin making you illuminate even more divine than you already are. He takes note of the way your eyelashes kiss your skin, and the way your lips gently rest on each other. He could watch you for hours on end, his peace in the chaos of the world, his way of life; without you, life would be dull, lifeless, bleak, black and white, boring, and almost pointless.

How could other people find a way to love someone else? Sure he seeked company in someone, it’s his greatest sin and he will never commit it again. Not even if you die. If it was his responsibility to have more children to secure his succession then he would do his duty, but he wouldn’t love her, he would think of you, your smile, your laugh, your beauty, your touch, and your enchanting song because he knows no one would ever love him like you love him.

It’s pretty foolish of you to love him after what he’s done to break your heart, but for some reason, you keep clinging onto him like when you were young. You had a chance to escape, to laugh and point with the others, but you never did, and you never have. It’s perhaps the only weakness in you, but he’s grateful, blessed, and glad that you continue to love him unconditionally.

It’s why he has to protect you. You and your son—your children.

“Aemond.”

He hears the call and looks at the intruder who barged in without warning; seeing his mother walking in with worry filtered in her big brown eyes.

“How is she?” She asks.

Aemond returns his attention to you in hopes you’ll wake soon and continues to stroke your knuckles with his thumb as he refuses to let your hand go.

“The maester said she will be fine,” Aemond shares. “It was her grief and the fact that she did not eat.”

Alicent walks down the two steps that lead to the bed and watches her son and his refusal to miss a single breath that escapes you.

“How did you tell her?” She asks with a hint of judgment clinging onto her. “I hope you did not just blurt it. She may be on our side, but the others are still her family that she loves, you need to be careful when you share such dark words.”

Aemond huffs and turns his head to pass her a brief glare that she misses as she watches you.

“Did you know?” He asks and chooses not to comment on the fact that he knows how to talk to you, he’s no imbecile. “She’s with child.”

Alicent’s brown eyes find him and he quickly looks back at you. “Yes, Helaena told me last night. She just found out, which is why I warn you that you need to be—”

“I know,” he cuts his mother off impatiently. “I know how to talk to her. I’m no fool. I’m not…mhm,” he chooses to leave Aegon out of the conversation.

“Twins, Helaena says,” Alicent chooses to ignore what was at the tip of his tongue and reaches the foot of the bed to watch Aemond and his short-lived bliss. “Congratulations. You must be happy.”

Aemond tilts his head, making his hair cascade over his shoulder and hide the faint smile that tugs on his lips, and stays while he reaches his hand over to caress your belly with a feathered touch.

Before he can express his joy, or give any positive reaction at all, he takes a deep breath as if the next words that are coming out of him are going to hurt to say, causing his happiness to dimishness as worry makes itself plain to see.

“One…twin is smaller than the other the maester says,” he says in a voice that’s so rare for Alicent to hear nowadays. “What does that mean?”

He looks over at his mother for help, for reassurance that it will be fine. As if her words were the salvation.

“Just that,” she tries to comfort Aemond’s worry that begins to ache her own heart even if she tries hard to fight it. “Sometimes it tends to happen with twins, one takes more than the other, but,” she breathes out deeply and looks at you with more worry than she offered her son. “It’s still early, it will resolve.”

Aemond’s eye stays on his mother to take in more comfort but when he finds none his eyes return to you and tries to believe the little help his mother offered with a faint smile—No, he smirks now and this time Alicent doesn’t miss it.

“This war will take a lot from us, but my children will be the future of my house. I will make sure of it,” he says, making Alicent’s lips twitch to a frown while her eyebrows knit together with conflict brought by his choice of words.

A gleam proceeds to catch her eyes and when she locates where it comes from, she sees Aegon’s Valyrian steel dagger strapped to his belt as if it was a trophy he won and needed to show off to everyone who had eyes.

“Be easy on her,” Alicent musters as she breathes out her conflict. “And don’t involve her in your warpath, Aemond.”

He scoffs but doesn’t counter, he instead interjects softly. “She won’t be happy about it.”

Alicent chuckles breathlessly. “No, she will not, it seems she inherited her ferocity from both parts of her family.”

He hums and slides his hand away from your belly to cup your hand with both of his large hands to be able to bring your hand up and kiss your knuckles.

“She won’t wake,” Aemond mutters ever so softly with a hint of desperation that escapes as if asking for help without outright expressing it at this moment where it’s just her and him.

“Give her time,” she offers him some console. “The maester said she will be fine, so she shall. She’s lost a lot in a short time…it’s not easy. “

Aemond answers with silence whilst he brings your hand down to rest it on the bed without letting it actually escape from the security of his hold.

“My Prince,” a third visitor interjects in the silence and steals the attention of both Aemond and Alicent. “King Aegon’s carriage is approaching the city.”

At the mention, Aemond sits up straight, and that softness that his features were cast under slowly hardens just as he gives the guard a response. “Let me know when he’s reached the Red Keep.”

Alicent watches the guard take in Aemond’s demand without hesitance before he takes off, leaving her troubled by her conflict as she watches her son act too unbothered by what befell his brother.

He should be furious, but his rage is missing. He should be overcome with worry that his King and older brother was wounded in battle, but his worry is just placed on you and you alone.

——

*YOU*

She was there, the day you touched the clouds for the first time. She was there when you knew nothing was better than being a part of the never-ending sky. She was there because the first dragon you ever rode was Meleys.

“My mother was seven years old when she first took to the skies,” you remember pointing out with disappointment because you just turned seven and you could not mount your dragon yet. You were too young, your mother said.

You never realized then that she was just protecting you, after all the sickness that plagued you since you were a babe had barely been expelled from your body, she just wanted to make sure that nothing took you from her just as she was assured you would live a long life after all.

Nevertheless, that disappointment was short-lived, your grandmother had made sure of that.

“Actually I talked to your mother and guess what?” She began to tease you while you caressed Meleys’ snout much to your dragon's jealousy.

“What is it?” You’re too impatient to play.

A smile brightens her face before she gives you the answer. “You can fly with me. I know it’s not the same as flying your own dragon, but that time will come soon. As for now, we can mount Meleys together and we can take to the skies together as a name day present from me.”

You remember the joy that overcame you at that moment. Sure you still wanted to mount your own dragon, but her offer did satisfy that desire. It is like having a snack when you’re hungry, it does not fulfill you but it does keep you satisfied for a while. That’s how it was. You were satisfied at that moment, you were happy to be in the sky. It was the best moment of your life, you knew you would die happy if death had chosen to take you that day.

It was an exaggeration, of course, you realized that not long after, but you were only seven then and you were in the clouds for the first time. You could finally stop imagining how they felt because you could feel the moistness soak your fingertips as you tried to reach them while Meleys ascended higher. And when she was lost within the fluffy white clouds, the water soaked your face, but you did not care. You were carefree.

Nothing occupied your mind at that moment, nothing worried you. You felt as weightless as the clouds, and you beamed as bright as the sun in the sky. Your dreams hadn’t come true yet, you needed to take to the skies on the back of your own dragon, but the gift of flying for the first time was all thanks to her. She gave you that experience, she made you happy at that moment and never failed to make you happy as you got older. She never stopped protecting you…but…you did fail her.

You’re in King’s Landing for a reason, aren’t you? To report to your family the war plans, the comings and goings of the most valuable members in the Green faction, the decisions that are made around the council table, and any other plans that the Green council may have. You’re here to warn your family so they can get an advantage, so they can get closer to the throne, so they don’t run such a high risk of getting wounded or dying. But your grandmother died regardless.

You failed her, you failed them. You failed at the one thing you were supposed to do and now you lost someone else you love. And the crazy thing is that you don’t hate or blame Aemond for what happened, you blame yourself.

The weight of guilt lies on you because you couldn’t do the one thing you were supposed to do. Because no matter how hard you try you can’t be something valuable. That’s all you wanted, that’s why you left in the first place, to prove to your mother that you could be reliable, that you can be a fierce warrior, that you aren’t just a princess in a castle, and that you can be so much more. You wanted to be so much more, prove to her that you can be important, valuable, and fierce. That part of you is there, you wanted to show her that, but your grandmother died, and with her lies that fight. You feel like nothing now…

Daemon would be so mad…and you shouldn't care what he has to think about you, but how can you not after you failed so miserably? After your grandmother died and her dragon along with her?

You’re mad at yourself—no, you’re furious at yourself. If you had been better perhaps she would still be alive.

“Ready?” You tug yourself away from your train of thought and focus on Aerion before you grab a raw piece of meat from the bowl beside you, and place it down in front of his hatchling.

“Shrykos, <Dracarys>,” you command.

Shrykos tilts her little head before blinking and glancing at Aerion as if waiting for the okay. But your son can’t answer, he just watches Shrykos, and the hatchling watches him.

“Shrykos, <Dracarys>,” you repeat the command, making the hatchling now look at the piece of meat in front of her before she opens her mouth and lets out a small blast of fire.

Aerion watches the fire engulf the small piece of meat, the way the flames come out of his dragon's mouth to cook the meat and he can’t help but giggle and wave his fat little arms.

“<Good job, Shrykos,>” you praise the hatchling.

Aerion’s head turns to you and he coos, making a smile spread on your mournful face. “Shrykos,” you repeat to your son, making him study you before he coos after you as if trying to say his dragon's name too.

“Yes!” You clap. “She’s your dragon. Shrykos.”

Aerion coos the same way again and his dragon this time scurries over to him to sit in between his legs.

“Your mother would be delighted to see the way he interacts with his dragon,” Vanessa comments, making you smile wider.

“She would,” you muse and reach over to try and caress your son's head, but you must have reached out to him too quickly because suddenly Shrykos snaps her head towards you and shrieks out at you.

“<Whoa,>” you gasp in surprise yet also awe because she’s grown to be so protective in such a short time. Jacaerys was right, having Aerion bond with a dragon can protect him in ways some guards can’t.

“<It's okay. Calm down, girl.>” You try to ease her worry. “<Calm.>”

The dragon’s eyes don’t leave you for a solid minute, she watches you carefully until Aerion starts to cry.

“She meant no harm,” you assure him as you’re able to grab him now and bring him up with you as you stand to your given height, causing the hatchling to flap her delicate wings to perch herself on your shoulder and remain close to Aerion.

“It’s okay,” you continue to try to console him before you wipe away his tears and press a kiss on his cheek.

Shrykos watches the interaction and stretches her neck out to coo softly at Aerion as if trying to mimic you in calming him down.

“See? She’s just worried about you,” you tell Aerion, and he sniffles just seconds before his attention focuses on the pendant that you found around your neck after you woke up.

“Of course,” you mutter with an amused smile and watch him grab your pendant before he yanks it back towards him, pulling a gasp out of your mouth. “Gods.”

Aerion pulls the pendant to his mouth but you grab his hand and shake your head. Yet before you can pull the pendant away, the doors open and snatch your attention to your husband walking in and coming to an immediate halt when he sees you on your feet.

“Aemond,” you greet him with a faint smile.

Said man takes a step forward and his eye studies you hard as if making sure you’re really there, that you’re not some ghost set out to bid a last goodbye; while also trying to figure out if your smile directed at him is real or feigned. After all, you both know who brought down Meleys and your grandmother. It wasn’t Aegon you both knew that.

Yet no matter how hard or how long his eye remains fixated on you, that sweet smile doesn’t falter or fade, that smile on your face turns to a grin actually.

“What is it?” You break him from his stupor whilst also trying to tug your pendant away from Aerion’s mouth.

“You…” Aemond trails off and finally breaks away from the cast your mere presence put him under to close the distance that keeps you apart. “You should be abed. Not on your feet.”

You roll your eyes and approach Vanessa to hand Aerion to her, causing the little hatchling to disembark your shoulder and instead fly over to Vanessa’s.

“I’m fine,” you direct at Aemond as you turn to face him and find your body moving toward him. “I ate, I—”

“Vanessa,” Aemond snaps at your handmaiden with a glower that you get in between.

“Stop, don’t snap at her, talk to me,” you ease the worry you see weighing down on him.

Aemond’s eye flickers to you, but he also wants to scold Vanessa for not keeping you abed where you’ll be safe so he parts his lips to argue, but you finally meet him halfway and grab his arm, focusing all his attention back to you as if you were the center of the universe.

“Leave her be. I stood up, you know that. I am not an invalid, I just should've been more careful,” you add to your case. “But I ate. I’m feeling stronger already.”

His chest rises high as he takes in a deep frustrated breath before he lets it all go and is left with worry.

Before you can continue to address the matter at hand though, you turn your attention to Vanessa. “Take him to Helaena and Jaehaera, she has Morghul out too, he and Shrykos can bond.”

Vanessa nods and doesn’t linger behind, she leaves your quarters rather quickly, leaving you to face your husband and slide your hand down his arm to grab his hand.

“I’m fine,” you tell him one more. “The news just didn’t settle well, plus I was on an empty stomach, it all just overwhelmed me, but I’m fine…we’re fine,” you finish in a whisper and pull his hand toward you to press his palm against your belly.

“I’m sure the maester broke the news,” you continue with a proud smile that he misses because he watches your intertwined hands caressing the spot where your twins are growing.

“Twins,” he whispers with no worry clinging to his voice, it's soft and full of awe just like his eye.

“That’s why I haven’t been feeling hungry, and why I’ve been uncomfortable,” you address the matter. “They’re the reason.”

Aemond’s eye goes to you and now endearment also accompanies the already sweet feelings his eye expresses. You want to follow up with more, but your lips part, and a single breath escapes past your lips as you stand there feeling seen, appreciated, and loved under his gaze, but also feeling worry and guilt strike your heart as he looks at you.

You want to share it, you want to spill out what troubles you, but your words get caught in your throat when Aemond goes down on one knee and presses a gentle kiss on your belly before he rests his forehead against it.

Now at this very moment, the tension of war is forgotten completely. You exist only in your bliss.

“I wanted to tell you. I had half the mind to fly to Rook’s Rest the moment I found out to tell you, but I resisted my urge,” you share as you swing your arm around his head to caress it gently as he keeps his forehead pressed against your belly. “So can you just pretend I told you and that the maester didn’t ruin it?”

He chuckles softly and tilts his head up to meet your gaze as he remains on one knee. “He also told me about one of them being smaller than the other.” He brings up and the blissful paradise comes crumbling down as the guilt and the worry return.

“Yes, he told me too…” you trail off and gulp. “I-I don’t know what that means. He said he’ll monitor me, but…I’m scared.”

Aemond pushes himself up to tower over you again and grabs your face with a gentle touch as if he's afraid he’ll break you if he's too rough.

“My mother said it happens,” he now comes to your aid even if he doesn’t really know either. “They’ll get stronger and be equal after a while.”

You don’t find comfort in Alicent’s words, you need to hear them from your mother or read her own words to feel completely comforted.

“Ok,” your voice trembles. “Aemond,” you say and grab his hands. “I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows pinch together so you quickly respond to his confusion. “If being with child is an inconvenience right now. Everything is so chaotic, I’m sorry if I have become a burden—”

“Quiet,” he cuts you off and pulls you to him. “Shut up. You are the furthest thing from a burden or an inconvenience. Don’t apologize. Don’t torment yourself. We are blessed. That’s all. The risks you’ll take are just fewer now, but it seems you and Helaena have found more comfort in each other so you won’t be bored here.”

You blink and that worry falls, he helped resolve it. The guilt has diminished as well, but now you’re completely baffled by what he says.

You won’t just sit by the fire, you may be with child, but you will not just sit idly by while he risks his life, while your brother is out there, and while your family still needs you too. Just because you’re expecting doesn’t mean you have to sit and wait like a trapped princess in distress!

“No,” you spat and let his hands go. He sees the fire already engulfing your eyes so he pouts in annoyance whilst he lets your face go too.

“I will not—”

“I will not sit here and wait for you to come back,” you cut him off lividly. “I have a dragon, I have skill! Just because I’m with child—”

“That’s exactly why!” He argues back with quick-growing frustration. “Do you really expect me to send you to fight while you’re expecting?! Do you really think I can just watch you in the sky knowing your state?! It’s like you said…”

You shake your head and turn away as he continues.

“…it takes one arrow, a dragon's jaw, or fire…”

Your eyes shift at the last mention and you almost want to rebuttal with the truth of your…fire resistance, but that would take you down a rabbit hole that you don’t want to fall into at this very moment. You need to make a point and win.

“I would never forgive myself if something happened to you or the twins,” he tries to lure you into the trap using sweet words that usually work. “I would not feel comfortable sending you out to battle now.”

“That’s the difference between me and you,” you counter right away and twist around to face him. “I will wear armor! I had armor made for me, I can protect myself! My dragon will protect me! I will not sit here and do nothing while you are out there! While Sunfyre and Aegon are now indisposed!”

Aemond strides to you, and you stand your ground and challenge him with your enraged glare alone.

“I don’t care what you want or don’t want, you are not going to fight on dragonback or on the ground,” he counters back spitefully with his nose flared and his glare piercing right back at you. “If you try I will lock you in here with a hundred guards. Or I will take you to a tower where you can’t reach your dragon and you’ll be miles away.”

You part your lips but you can’t argue back, you’re caught in disbelief because you know he would be capable of doing that. You’re also too enraged that your words turn to ashes in your mouth by the stupid tears that come to your eyes. Thus instead you snap around to give him your back as you approach the hearth keeping the room warm, and watch the dancing flames with your arms crossed over your chest.

Aemond sighs deeply and leaves the room silent for a moment as he lets his frustration and impatience leave his body before he approaches you from behind.

At first, he breaks the silence with the soft utter of your name before he makes the mistake of brushing his fingertips on your hip, causing you to flinch away out of fear that it was someone else.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters in confusion to your sudden jolt.

You realize what you did and take a deep breath, realizing that your rage gets snuffed out like dying fire.

At first, you did not think you wanted to tell Aemond what Aegon did, but he’s here now, you look at him now; the confusion on his face. You look at your best friend, your husband, and the man that you love, and the words crawl up your throat like bile.

“Aemond,” you whimper and his confusion is lost and replaced by concern once again.

The sound of your lips parting fills your chambers, but a breath is all that comes out. You can’t be outward with it, you’re too afraid, too ashamed, so you close the distance and bring your lips to his ear.

He does look at you completely puzzled albeit that soon diminishes and slowly transforms into livid rage as you whisper the words in his ear. After that, you only pull back when you try to plead your case as if he didn’t believe you right away. He did, you just need him to know desperately.

“I told him to stop, I did, I promise, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. You have to believe me, Aemond.” You cry and he sighs, but that anger doesn’t die, he just musters the softness he can to gently cup your face before he slides his hand down to stroke your chin.

“I believe you,” he whispers so you can hear, and presses his forehead against yours.

“I wanted to fight back,” you keep trying to tell him. “I promise. I…I.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he coos and brings his hand back up to cradle your cheek and use his thumb to stroke it. “You will be okay.”

He suddenly rips himself away from you and stomps away. You turn to not miss a step and notice him grab his sword while he gets away in a rage, thus you interfere because you know he’s letting his anger steer his thoughts. “Aemond stop!”

He doesn’t falter in his pace, he keeps storming away.

“Aemond!” You cry out. “Stop! Aemond! Please,” you beg and it’s that quiver in your voice that stops him.

“Do you really expect me to stay here knowing what—”

“Stay with me,” you cut him off to tell him what you need the most. “Please don’t go. Just stay.”

Aemond slowly turns around and when he faces you he sees how hard you’re pleading with your teary eyes, and how much you need just his company. Not his rage, not his revenge, just his comfort. His anger does want to get the best of him, but he beats it down with a deep breath and rests his blade against the wall to go to you and immediately wrap you in an embrace.

When you’re surrounded by nothing but the security of his warm arms you let yourself melt in his embrace because you know that nothing and no one can hurt you there.

“Let’s take a bath, hm?” He suggests as he kisses the top of your head. “Me and you.”

You nod softly and after depleting him of all the comfort you need, as the sun leaves the earth and lets the moon and the stars shine, you have a bath drawn where hundreds of candles enlighten the room with their soft glow. Where a soothing incense fills the room, and the warm flames from the hearth near your bath is a warm third body that keeps you company while you relax against Aemond.

“And that one is my favorite song, there’s a certain eeriness to it, but also an enchanting melody that I love,” you muse as you cross one leg over the other.

Aemond hums. “Those have always been my favorite for you to sing,” he muses.

You smile widely, and slither your fingers over his gently caressing your knee, welcoming a silence to the room that causes Aemond to grow uncomfortable yet bold enough to ask one question he’s been holding back out of fear that you will admit that you hate him now, or that you’re only here because of Aerion.

He doesn’t want to hear rejection or see you turn your back on him. He still needs you and he doesn’t want to face potential abandonment. But he also can’t sleep peacefully not knowing how you feel after what he did.

“Can I ask you something?” Aemond brings up quietly before saying your name as if there were more people in this chamber. But there isn’t, it’s just you and him.

“Mhm,” you let him continue and lay your head back on his shoulder to look at him from the corner of your eyes.

“You know it was not Sunfyre or Aegon who brought down Rhaenys or Meleys,” he hesitates to say but he does speak it out loud, and right away he feels how stiff you grow.

“I…know,” you breathe out and slowly sit up, losing contact with his fingers, and causing his fingers on your knee to slip off. “I could read it off you. You weren’t so discreet you know? Maybe you should be a little less smug if you’re going to let Aegon take the win.”

He hums and sits up to press his hand on your back before gently wrapping his arm around your neck to speak by your ear. “Do you…hate me?”

How could you hate him when it’s yourself that you hate for failing her?

There’s no point in thinking. No debate needs to be had, it’s an easy answer that comes from the depths of your wounded heart.

“No,” you whisper, leaving no time for him to doubt your response. “Should I?”

You turn to face him with sincerity bringing tears to your eyes. “I don’t hate you.”

Aemond’s arm slips off you and his eye falls on the water, but rather than trying hard to find his gaze, you actually find his reflection in the water and see a frown on his face; one brought by sorrow and torment over your response.

It’s like he almost wants you to hate him.

“It’s different this time,” you try to explain without bringing up the real reason behind your logic. “She wasn’t a messenger, she wasn’t trying to get away, it was a battle. Death is never fair for people like her, she did not deserve to die, but her death was different because I know that she wouldn’t want to go out any other way. She went out like a dragon warrior. I know she fought hard until her last breath.”

Aemond’s eye climbs up your body and finds your attentive gaze, letting you see his eye clouded with tears and that weight not ease off his body, so you drag yourself in between his legs to cup his cheek and offer him a faint assuring smile.

“I do not hate you,” you assure him and hold his gaze so he can read that you’re being sincere.

When he has the confirmation his heart needs he lets out a deep breath that makes that tension lift off his chest.

“Now,” you change the subject before you start crying, and slide your hand down to hold his knee and gently shake his leg. “You are going to be Prince Regent.”

His lips tug to a faint flustered smile and his eye once again falls on the water.

“Grin, my love, all your hard work will pay off,” you flatter him with a beaming grin. “All that time spent in books, learning from great minds, and working tirelessly will be rewarded.”

Do you really think he has the mind to rule?

Maybe if he hadn't gotten his eye taken out, or if he had seen his father care for him after being maimed then he would be the ruler the Greens need to win, that the kingdoms need, but he’s fueled with anger. His ego is inflated because he never got told that he’s so much more than he knows, so he had to rely on his large dragon for power.

It’s not to say you aren’t proud of him, because you are. He’s worked hard, he’s leaned into his books to gain knowledge. He has a military mind and good swordsman skills. He's the one keeping his family alive, and he has much more logic than Aegon, but a good ruler needs to be more than that.

A good ruler needs to listen to his people, they need to be just but also need to know when to put their foot down. They need to control their emotions even if sometimes they get tested by idiots or people being too daring. They need to know when to pull their blade out to fight, and when to use harsh words instead. Can he do that?

You can’t be sure. To be honest, you are not sure he can, but it’s why he can be the key to getting your mother on the throne.

Is he something important, something so much more that people don’t see? Yes, a hundred times yes. You don’t doubt that, you genuinely are happy that he’s being seen, that he gets to finally prove himself because you know that there’s so much more to him that people don’t see, that they ignore because he’s a second son, and he’s more quiet, like a shadow.

He’s not scary or just intimidating like he lets people believe, he’s smart, he's gentle, he’s so much more than people see and you have always known that. You have always supported that. And that’s what you’re praising, because after all this waiting he’s no longer in the shadows. A light is shining on him. He deserves it.

“Maybe,” Aemond mutters with his smile faltering. “There’s also my mother. She’s Queen Dowager.”

You sit back on your legs and your confusion is clear. “But,” you genuinely argue. “Your mother ruled in a time of peace, and she has no military mind. They couldn’t really consider her. It’s you they’ll pick.”

Aemond meets your gaze and sighs deeply. “I cannot be sure until the morrow.”

You hum and avert your gaze to think if the men around the table will really pick Alicent over the next heir in Aegon's line of succession. It would be pretty stupid to pick Alicent when they’re working hard to remove your mother.

“Well, I'm sure they’ll pick you,” you express your genuine opinion. “They’ll be stupid not to. And you have an heir, maybe more on the way. Perfect choice I’ll say.”

His lips tug up to a soft smile, and your more negative opinions falter at the sight of that smile alone.

“And you,” he piques your interest whilst he leans over to capture your chin in between his thumb and his pointer finger. “You’ll be Princess Regent.”

You gulp nervously and shake your head. “Helaena is alive and healthy, I couldn’t be Princess Regent.” You contradict him, but he continues to press his side.

“My sister is sweet and good, but,” he sighs. “We all know she has no mind to be Queen, she’d rather be outside with her bugs than be anywhere near court, but you…you’re smart, fierce, attentive, and you have the mind to be a good Queen. The people love you and you care for them for some reason. You’ll be good.”

And there it is, your foundations shake at the sound of those sweet words that work like bait like magic to enchant you.

He would consider you, and that makes you consider a change of thought…

Like getting drunk, slowly your mind and your body start to lose yourself to its rich power.

“You think so?” You mumble softly with your eyes full of desperation to be told you can be so much more.

“I know it. You and I would be a powerhouse everyone would respect,” he doesn’t take back his opinion and it’s a dangerous thing. He needs to stop.

Stop.

Stop…

But you can’t help but smile like an idiot as your heart gets fed more of that addicting honey it can never get enough of. It’s all you ever wanted deep down. it’s a dream you even shared with Cregan and Arra…

But…no!

No! No…

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

“They will name you regent,” you try to reassure him as you fix the collar of his leather vest. “I know it. So head up high and deep breath.”

He holds your gaze as he lets out a deep breath, making you giggle as you slide your hands down to pat his chest.

“I love you,” you don’t fret to send him off with sweet words that make his heart swoon.

“I love you too,” he doesn’t hesitate to return before he leans in and presses a kiss on your lips.

Before he can back away you steal one more kiss from his thin lips, causing him to leave with a faint smile.

After a few minutes of lingering in the spot where he left you, you scurry out the secret door and trudge through the secret tunnels to reach the shadows of the Small council room and be part of the big debate that will change the Green fraction one way or the other.

“The armor was Valyrian steel,” Maester Orwyle shares with the council. “But his Grace suffered grievous burns over much of his body. He has many broken bones. I fear there are more injuries within, injuries we cannot see.”

He can die for all you care.

“We are grateful for your works, Grand Maester,” Alicent interjects after you catch her take in a deep breath. “Has he woken?”

“No,” the maester doesn’t try to be assuring, he’s bold so no one gets any hope he might survive. “I must admit, I’m not sure he will ever wake. I have piled my crafts to their fullest extents. Our king's fate lies with the gods now.”

And may the gods be ever so merciful to give him death.

“A king cannot rule in his sleep,” you hear Alicent say after a few seconds of silence. “The realm will have noticed his absence. Let them hear of his great deeds at Rook’s Rest. But now we must name a regent to take his place until he recovers…or does not.”

You lean your ear closer to the gaps on the wall and wait to see if Aemond is right.

“A wise strategy, Your Grace,” you recognize Lord Larys’ pestering voice. “A regency will assure the people of the stability of the crown.”

A silence follows and you wonder why it’s so awkward in there when the choice is plain to see.

“Did you have a candidate in mind, Your Grace?” Ser Tyland asks.

“I myself served in this role for my husband, I am well-prepared to do it again,” she proves Aemond right, and if you would have bet you would have lost.

“You played your part admirably in a time of peace, Your Grace,” Lord Jasper weighs in. “But circumstances have changed.”

“And here I had forgotten,” you catch the sarcasm in Alicent’s voice which does amuse you.

“The King does not lack for heirs,” Lord Jasper continues to argue against Alicent. “The obvious choice is his immediate successor, Prince Aemond, who has his own heir in his son, strengthening the line of succession.”

“Agreed,” Ser Tyland comments, making your heart skip a beat for Aemond.

“Aemond is young,” Alicent immediately rebuttals, causing your eyebrows to furrow because you all know there’s been younger Kings. “And his lack of restraint has already cost us dearly.”

A third silence follows and you suspect it’s because she wants people to agree with her, but it doesn’t seem like anyone does. Which is awkward, you can feel that tension from where you are.

“It is an experience that offers the surest path to security,” you hear the maester give his opinion. “Queen Alicent ably shouldered the duties of the realm when her husband's health failed him.”

Once again in a time of peace, it doesn’t seem like she has a military mind. And someone could argue that your mother doesn’t either, but you know her, she’s smart and leans on her books. She doesn’t need her father like Alicent needed hers.

“Experience is valuable, yes,” Lord Jasper interjects. “But the Dowager Queen is a woman.”

You almost have to laugh but you hold it in. It’s so poetic really.

“I’m no stranger to rule or to sitting at this council,” Alicent argues. “Aemond is a fearsome dragonrider. His skill is best employed in the field, but my experience is needed here, at this table—”

“No offense was meant, Your Grace,” Ser Tyland cuts her off as she’s growing frustrated. “But at a time when we must show strength.”

“Lord Larys,” she tries to garner the man’s support.

“I agree, Your Grace, it must be Prince Aemond,” he contradicts her. “What would it say if, in response to Rhaenyra’s crowning, we raised up a woman of our own?”

Oh sweet, sweet karma.

“But, um…the Hand speaks for the King’s voice, Ser Criston what say you?”

You start to fiddle with your hands as a smirk tugs on your face.

“Aemond is the next in line,” he adds salt to the injury. “It must be him.”

You can’t help it, you grin.

“It’s agreed then,” Aemond finally breaks his silence before you hear the sound of him rising from his chair and his heels clicking around the table.

And just like that he is now regent, Alicent has now been treated the way she treated your mother. The Green fraction has changed to a more Ironfist rule. You can be certain of that.

“What is our standing in the Riverlands?” Aemond jumps right into business, proving already to possess a better mind than Aegon ever did.

“Uh, the banners of House Tully are in disarray, Your Grace,” Ser Tyland is the one who gives Aemond the answer he sought, and the first one to call him your Grace, which brings a chill down your spine. “Prince Daemon has little hope of fielding an army or any, for now.”

Why do they doubt Daemon so much? Is it just that they hope that their negativity will help him fail?

You don’t like him, and you know he has the power to gain that army, you know he will.

“We would do well to send word to young Oscar Tully,” Lord Larys follows up with his comment. “It’s only a matter of time before he inherits his grandsire’s mantle.”

“Tell me, Lord Strong, how I can trust the counsel of a man who leaves the jewel of the Riverlands to be plucked by our enemy?”

You wait for the response from the Lord, but he gives none, and you couldn’t be more smug that he didn’t and that he’s most likely intimidated by Aemond.

“Your brother's host can meet Daemon,” Aemond changes the subject to now speak to Ser Tyland. “He should quicken its pace and check the Rivermen while their banners are in disarray.”

No matter what you can’t help but be proud of Aemond. Command suits him.

“I shall send Lord Jason encouragement,” Ser Tyland assures Aemond.

“What else?” Aemond probes.

“We might turn our attention to the smallfolk here in King’s Landing,” Maester Orweyle says. “They have grown weary of the Sea Snake’s blockade.”

“So have we all,” Aemond says nonchalantly.

“Many are fleeing the city,” the maester continues. “Spreading word of their fear and unrest.”

“Mm, then let the gates be closed,” Aemond picks the wrong choice which proves you right too. “No one is to leave or enter, save with our consent. Merchants, so forth.”

And that’s how you get the smallfolk to hate you. He’s supposed to assure them, feed them, and give them something to hope for, not fear and disdain. Hopefully, your mother can work that in her favor.

“Ser Criston,” Aemond calls out. “I need you to pick three of your best and most trusted men. I shall have two guarding my son and heir, and a second guard protecting my wife. She’s with child, I don’t wish to leave her vulnerable.”

Your breath catches and your heart skips a beat.

It is going to be harder to just be around the Red Keep, but you are happy he didn’t forget about you or Aerion.

“Go to your tasks,” Aemond then abruptly ends the meeting. “We shall meet again at first light. Oh, and someone cut down the fucking ratcatchers.”

Finally! You thought it was never going to be taken down, it’s such a nasty display.

Nevertheless, now to report to your mother. And since Aemond did mention he was going to be busy after the Small council meeting, you have time to take the message to Astraea so she can go take it right away. Plus there’s another matter you need to entrust your mother about because she's the only one you trust to give you comfort.

Which is why in the second letter you write, you make sure to direct to your mother.

“Dear Rhaenyra,

As you know I am with child. The maester assured me of that not long ago, but he also told me something else. He said that one twin is smaller than the other, and honestly, that frightens me. Alicent said it could be fixed in time, but I don’t trust her, and I don’t know what it really means. I just want to know if they’ll be okay. I need them to be okay.”

You don’t sign your name, but there’s no one else who would write to her so there’s no need to really sign your name. Hopefully, this time they write back though, or send anything in return so you’re not left worried. You made sure to point that out so hopefully they listen.

And! Hopefully, Jacaerys’ nosy ass doesn’t read your personal letter to your mother!

He would dare, he would be so protective about it, like, “come home now!” It’s a surprise he didn’t fly after you when he found out you left! Sure you feel bad for leaving him behind, but he has Baela, he won’t be alone. He’ll just be worried about you, annoying too because he wants to hear any news from you, and he will also probably be attentive to any sighting of Astraea in hopes to hear any news from you, so maybe you should write a warning to keep him out.

You should, but you don’t, just like you don’t take the secret tunnels to the cove where Astraea is resting. You’re simply going to the cove behind the castle to visit your dragon, that's all! If there’s eyes on you they won’t find you suspicious, you’re not flaunting the letters; you have them hidden, and you have your sworn protector trailing behind you. There’s no need for alarm or whispers to be spread or given to Aemond, it’s a simple visit…

You just need to secure something on her horn.

Yet as you’re trying to secure the letters, she suddenly slips her head away and starts to growl at your sworn protector in the shadows.

“<Astraea, calm girl,” you assure her. “He’s a friend. He’s my sworn protector. It’s alright.>”

Astraea doesn’t listen; she pushes herself closer to the man, making sure to block your path with her large neck.

“<Astraea,>” you warn her. “<Stop.>”

Her growling gets louder and you see her opening her jaw, pushing Ser Jason against the wall with panicked breaths.

“It’s alright Ser,” you try to assure him. “She won’t harm you. She’s just wary, but <he’s a friend>,” you address the last comment to Astraea, but she has a mind of her own. She corners the man and you watch her nostrils flare as she sniffs him.

“Astraea,” you call out and try to inch closer, but the moment she hears your feet shift she moves her neck against you and starts to snarl until she then suddenly grows quiet, and her neck starts to move away from you, letting you see her close her mouth, and blink as her pupils dilate while she looks at the panicked man before her.

Instead of calling her to back away, you watch with growing curiosity as she then begins to coo at him.

Ser Jason notices the hostility slip away so between pants and with wide eyes he slowly raises his hand and carefully reaches out for her scaled nostril.

You expect your dragon to move, but she remains where she is and lets the man pet her, pulling a surprised breath out of you.

“You,” you huff with relief that she didn’t kill him. “Must be special.”

Ser Jason’s blue eyes snap to you and his eyes almost pop out of his skull before he shakes his head. “No—I mean I am a—”

“She likes you,” you cut off his nervous rambling with a sweet smile. “Funny way of showing it, but she does. She let you pet her. There’s only a few people who aren’t of Valyrian descent that she lets pet her.”

Ser Jason’s eyes slowly drift away as his hand slips off Astraea, letting her back away and turn her head towards you to focus on you.

“<You naughty girl,>” you taunt her and watch her lips spread up as if she’s responding to your comment and smile with a smirk. “Sorry,” you direct at Ser Jason. “For the fright.”

The knight lets out a deep breath to relieve himself of that fear that he was just hit with, and with a breathless laugh, retorts, “I can finally say I have touched a dragon. It’s fine.”

You hum softly in return and once and for all attach the letters to your dragon's horn before you throw your arms around her in an attempt to embrace her. But she’s too big now, your arms don’t go around her anymore, they're just spread out against her in an attempt.

“<You know what you must do, my girl. Remember just my mother, Jace, Baela, or my grandfather can grab the letters. No one else. Don’t delay and be careful.>”

Lady Arra Norrey always poked fun at you for talking to your dragon like you talk to a person, but dragons understand more than commoners know, and Astraea understands you at a deep level.

“<Now go.>” You send her off and don’t move away, you approach the shore to watch her ascend the skies.

It’s once she’s high in the clouds that you return inside, and this time rather than having a clear path, you’re interrupted just at the last courtyard before you can reach the doors. Thankfully it’s on your way back to your quarters though and not the other way around.

“Princess,” Ser Gwayne Hightower brings you to a stop, making you take a deep and annoyed breath before you turn to face him with a plastered smile.

“Ser,” you greet and watch him bow his head at you before he finishes approaching you to be closer. “You returned.”

That’s all, you’re not glad he did, you’re not surprised either, he just returned, it’s that simple.

“Thanks to your favor,” he retorts smugly, making you scoff.

“Me or a few other pretty ladies?” You remark, making him flash you a charming grin before he chuckles and nods.

“Oh yes many did give me their favors,” he doesn’t remain modest, he’s blunt and that makes an amused smile twitch on your lips unwillingly. “But only one worked in my favor. The only one close to the gods, yours, my Princess.”

You hold his gaze as you nod in comprehension before you hide your flattered smile by looking at the ground.

“I heard you are quite a spectacular singer,” he continues trying to work his charm on you. “The Siren of Driftmark. I have wanted to hear if it’s true that your voice is as enchanting as they say.”

You draw in a deep breath and clasp your hands together before you roll your eyes up to look at him with a mischievous smirk that he starts to take in his favor. Yet…

“Was it your idea to parade around the head of my grandmother's dragon throughout the city?” You bring a cold end to his flattery and make that ever-so-charming smile fall.

“No,” he clears his throat and shifts back, making your own smirk deepen. “It was Ser Criston Cole’s.”

“Our good Lord Hand,” you both say in sync and with the same level of sarcasm, bringing a silence where you both share a teasing smile as if you were friends sharing gossip.

“He may have a good military mind,” he shares with you after a small genuine smile. “But may the gods help him with political matters.”

You hum and nod. “It seems the realm was in better hands with your father as hand and Ser Criston as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.”

“I’ll say.” He doesn’t shy away from agreeing. “Uh, I heard of your accident, I do hope you are okay.” He changes the subject smoothly, causing you to blink in surprise and find yourself answering without disdain.

“Quite, being with child just takes a toll. Thank you, Ser.”

He bows his head and just as he parts his lips to add more, a third voice cuts in. “Uncle.”

You both look at the incomer and notice Aemond with his eye locked on his uncle.

“Nephew,” Ser Gwayne greets Aemond with a smile, unlike Aemond who seems bothered—“I was just talking to the Princess. You have quite the pretty pearl here.”

You swallow back nervously and watch Aemond’s chest rise whilst the corner of his lips twitch to a forced smile.

“And you are expecting!” Ser Gwayne brings up and leans toward Aemond to pat his arm. “Congratulations, nephew.”

Aemond offers him a stiff nod of his head so you cut in. “Thank you, Ser. He is the most delighted.”

Aemond hums and remains cold and bothered so you cut this conversation short before you’re swallowed by the awkwardness that begins to build. “I hope we get to see more of you before you’re off again, maybe you can meet our son, Aerion.”

“Ah, yes I would be delighted, my sister speaks fondly of her grandchildren. I will have to see them for myself,” Ser Gwayne says in return, letting you offer him the first genuine smile before you turn and head inside with Aemond who keeps his jaw clenched and his eye narrowed.

“What…were you talking about?” Aemond tries to hide how jealous he is, but it's a futile attempt considering it’s written all over his face; in his flared nostrils, in the darkness in his eye that is brought up by annoyance and anger, and in his raised chest in attempts to try and insert his dominance over you.

Any other time you would find it amusing, it's his uncle and he can’t help but be jealous, but right now you’re bothered by something else entirely that you won’t let go unheard of.

“<The nasty parade that took place while I was abed,>” you take your opportunity to bring up without actually deflecting because it’s true, the topic was brought up.

But of course, he doesn’t answer, do you let it go though? No, you don't back off even if you see him wanting to avoid the topic, you press the matter with growing frustration.

“<When do people stop fearing gods, Aemond?>” You ask rhetorically. “<When they see gods bleed. They saw that dragon's head being paraded around the city and saw that they’re just like every other animal.>”

“<They're not,” Aemond scoffs back in High Valyrian, just like you. “<They can test it if they like, let’s see what fate awaits from them then.>”

You share a dry chuckle and only counter when you’re past the doors and inside the Red Keep. “<Don't underestimate the power of the people, Aemond. They can find power in rage if you give them the right spark. And that display…>” you trail off but don’t ease off him, you don’t use your anger either, you let it go with a deep exhale and instead, try to work this in your favor with the simple power of your enchanting voice.

“<No qualified Hand would have allowed that to happen, or even given it any thought. Dragons are the power of our house, they are sacred creatures. You know that. He doesn’t understand; he did something stupidly foolish that could cost us a lot.>”

Aemond finally looks over at you as if captured by your words, or as if he agrees too.

“<He’s our Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,>” he brings up, but that doesn’t work in anyone's defense. You use that.

“Exactly.”

Aemond studies you to try and get in your mind and read your running thoughts, finding that the words you just sang are haunting his mind instead, like a melody one can’t forget.

“I’m not saying he’s not a qualified man,” you add softly as you climb up flights of stairs to head to your room. “He may not be my favorite, he may have quite a reputation, but he still has a good mind for battle. That I can say. Maybe his skills will be best displayed trying to take Harrenhal, hm? The longer that gets left alone, the more time Daemon has to gain power there.”

“I thought you didn’t like him,” Aemond brings up and glances ahead.

“No,” you scoff. “I don’t, but,” you sigh. “He’s smart. He has experience. I can admit that. We have to admit that to ourselves.”

Aemond hums and you look at him as he looks ahead. And after knowing you said all you needed to say on the matter without being pushy or suspicious, you finally shift over to a matter that brings a bright grin to your face.

“So?! Tell me, are you Regent?”

Aemond’s eye falls and a soft smile slowly starts to grow on his face before he lifts his head and meets your gaze, showing off that smile that gives you your answer and makes you squeal before you bring the both of you to a stop atop the stairs when you throw your arms around him.

“I told you! Congratulations, my love,” you praise him genuinely since you know how much he wants to prove himself. “I knew you’d get it.”

He can’t help it, he wants to grow smug, but he grows flustered instead and only makes that smile grow warm.

“You deserve it,” you whisper so only he can hear.

Aemond wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss on the top of your head, keeping his lips and nose pressed against you as he takes in the praise that you alone have given him.

“Thank you,” he mutters against you.

You hum and pull your head back to meet his eye. “Really, I’m proud of you,” you whisper with no sign of deceit, your words come from the bottom of your heart because now people can see what you see, what you have always seen; that he’s so much more, that he is something.

“I…” he trails off and his eye turns glossy, while a breath catches in his throat and a fondness and awe paints his face. “I love you.”

You bring one hand up to caress his cheek, making him lean towards your touch right away as if instinct to seek your warmth and comfort.

“I love you too,” you redirect softly and press a gentle kiss against his lips.

“You are my Princess Regent,” he whispers against your lips, making you scoff and gently smack his chest before you pull away from his grasp to continue to your shared quarters.

Aemond of course doesn’t hesitate to follow at your side and presses what he said. “I can make you that if you want. You and me.”

You shake your head. “It can’t happen. Helaena is Queen, and,” you hesitate and he knows that so he uses it in his favor.

“You don’t want it?”

You want to say no, but you part your lips and you can’t bring yourself to counter or deny. Instead, once again there’s something dark and hungry that plagues you…

And it doesn’t let you answer

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you retort and flash him a feigned smile. He wants to counter, but you leave him no room to answer because you pick up your pace to finally get off the stairs.

Once you reach your quarters you find Vanessa with Aerion and Shrykos. You see Aerion happy with his little hatchling, you see him get even happier when he sees his father and you can’t help it, all your mind focuses on is spending time with your family. You watch as Aemond interacts with Aerion and his little hatchling. You see how much Aerion loves spending time with Aemond and vice versa. You cherish the moment, you live in it because of what lurks outside your safety walls.

Even when you see Astraea return to the city, you don’t let your attention drift away. This stolen moment is where you find joy, where you find awe as you see how easy Aerion falls asleep when he’s laying on Aemond’s chest as the three of you just spend time on the bed with Aemond’s head on your lap, your fingers messaging his temple, and your eyes interlocked as if sharing hundreds of words in the silence.

Soon there will hopefully be more of you, you and Aemond will be outnumbered, but nothing will ever lessen the love you give your son. You may love each other selfishly, and Aemond may put you over everything, but that will never impact how much you love your children because he doesn’t want them to feel lonely like the way he felt when you were gone from his life and no longer there to be the hopeful light in the darkness. He knows that for certain, just like you know for certain that you would not mind living in this peaceful moment forever.

Yet the peace gets interrupted by Ser Criston requiring Aemond’s attention to take a look at the men he chose to protect you and your son. And since the moment was already interrupted you find your chance to go to Astraea and check for any notes.

And this time there is a note from your mother that you read in the safety of your room since Aemond will be gone for a while.

“I hope you find yourself well. I thank you for your sacrifices, it must not be easy having to sneak about the Red Keep, so thank you, my Sweet. Astraea will grow impatient, and someone will suspect if she’s gone too long so I will get to the point. With the help of the Mysaria, I have sent Elinda to King’s Landing to help with a secret plan to gain the favor of the smallfolk. By the time you get this, she should be at the west city gates by nightfall, she will stay with a friend. I hope you can send someone you trust to see her in the city, she will share what we have planned—”

You pull your eyes off the paper and glance over at Vanessa as she’s the only one you can trust to do what your mother wants of you.

“—As to you. I would really like it if you came home now, I would feel more comfortable with you being taken care of by a maester I can trust. Please come home, leave Vanessa there to help Elinda, and relay any plans the greens have, just come home.

Love, your mother.”

Come home?

It's true that you would feel more comfortable there regarding your twins, but when you go home what will you do? Just sit around the table and listen? Sit and do nothing while a war rages around you?

You already failed her, failed them all once, you need to prove yourself. That’s why you’re here because you wanted to prove to your mother that you can be useful, that you can be something. You can do that here, not there trapped like a bird.

You can’t go home. No matter how much she wants you back, no matter how much you do ache to return, you can’t leave yet. Thus you stride towards the hearth and throw the letter in the fire so it’s not discovered.

Once the paper and all the words are ash you lift your nose in the air and call out to your handmaiden. “Vanessa could you let Ser Jason in, I need to speak to the both of you.”

Vanessa doesn’t wait or question you, she beckons your sworn protector, and once he’s inside and they both stand a few feet behind you, you slowly turn to face them with confidence so they feel it too.

“I need you, Vanessa to go into the city,” you share without dragging it out just in case Aemond does come soon. “Elinda is on her way to the city and I need you to help her inside. I need you to help her for me. Be my ears, my voice with what she needs.”

Vanessa’s dark eyes slowly drift down as many thoughts cross her mind. Many doubts you’re sure. The city is dangerous nowadays, and there’s no guarantee that her whereabouts won’t be caught, but you need her to run the risk because you can’t. She has a higher chance of being in the city undetected, you not so much.

“I know I'm asking a lot, but you are the only one I trust with this,” you try to make her feel comfortable. “My mother does too, if you don’t feel comfortable helping, just let Elinda in the city and walk her to where she’ll stay, okay?”

Vanessa lets out a deep breath and after a few seconds her eyes slowly scale up and she finds you, letting you see the sense of determination painting her pretty face. “I will do it, I’ll help you, the Queen, and Elinda. With whatever they need.” She assures you with a nod and a gentle smile, making you flash her a grin before you now address your sworn protector.

“As for you Ser, I need you to accompany Vanessa, protect her like you do me while she’s out in the city. She is my dearest friend and I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

Ser Jason glances at the woman beside him and swallows thickly before he looks back at you and doesn’t hesitate, he nods in agreement.

“I will protect her as I do you, my Princess,” he says with a sense of confidence that strikes him too. “I am also friends with the Gold Cloaks, I can convince them to let your friend in.”

You sigh with relief and nod in comprehension. “Good, I’m glad. Now go before Aemond gets here. And ser, don’t walk so tense, pretend you’re…taking the lady out to the city, hm?” You suggest, making his cheeks grow furiously red. “I’m being serious.”

Vanessa glances at the timid man and snickers before she approaches you and looks at you with concern and sorrow. “And you? Will you light the pyre alone?”

Your eyes flicker down, but you quickly blink and look back at her with a faint assuring smile so she doesn’t have to worry. “I’m no stranger to grieving alone. I will be fine, I know how to build a pyre.”

“It is raining,” Vanessa argues in an attempt to have you wait for her to light your grandmother's funeral pyre. “Maybe tomorrow—”

“I will be fine, I already know which courtyard to use. Go, I will be fine.” You interrupt her so she can stop worrying. “I’ll see you on the morrow hm?”

She hesitates now for the first time, and as if she was a caring older sister she pats your cheek and offers you a sweet smile.

Before she can go you grab ahold of her hand and welcome her comfort for a lingering moment before you let her go.

Once you’re alone, and Aerion’s wetnurse arrives to take care of him, you put on a beautiful blue velvet cloak and direct yourself to the courtyard you told Vanessa about; one close to the throne room, one with a spiral roof that welcomes the thick drops of rain through the gaps that usually welcome the sunlight on a clear day, or the moonlight on a cloudless night, but not today.

Today the rain is like music against the stone ground, the rain is a mess and puddles around your feet, soaking the ends of your gown and cloak. Lighting and thunder accompany the sheets of rain today, which would add an ominous feeling in the darkness of the night, but the bright fire that lights the shitty pyre you built, burns away the menacing presence of the lightning and thunder.

Now one would wonder how a pyre is still lit with how hard the rain hits the earth, but the center of the courtyard offers a roof that protects the fire and keeps most of you dry. That’s where you stand, that’s where the fire eats away at the wood in peace, and where it’s allowed to glow ragefully; basking the entire courtyard in its red and orange hue as if it was like a wildfire with the power of a thousand suns, and engulfing you with its illuminating hue that makes the grief and sorrow on your face look angelic.

Or that’s what poets would write, what bypassers would think as they watched how the raging light kisses your face and makes those tears on your cheeks glimmer like shining crystals, but you feel anything but divine, you’re grieving alone again. Just like how you grieved your father six years ago.

You shouldn’t be a stranger to grieving alone, but here you are again, away from your cousins, brother, mother, and grandfather who loved your grandmother and Meleys. You’re alone again in front of a funeral pyre bidding a last goodbye to someone you love, and no one is here to hold your hand or embrace your shaking shoulders. You’re alone grieving a grandmother you failed.

Maybe if you had written that letter faster, or sent that warning before, then she would still be alive. If you could’ve done what you were sent to do right she would be victorious or perhaps left with her life, but you failed her, you failed your Queen; your mother, and those who loved your grandmother. You amounted to nothing, but maybe that’s what you’ve been all along?

A simple girl with a luxurious title who dreamt too big and wanted too much. A selfish girl who thought she could get the world, but can’t get a scrap because no matter how hard you try you can’t reach those stars to amount to anything. You can’t feed the hunger inside you. You can’t be anything…

But…

As you stand there in the silence of solace, as you hear the fire crackle, the rain patter, and the thunderclap in the sky, there’s something that you feel calling you, something in the fire.

Something that has always called out to you since you could remember, but something that you have ignored, that you want to ignore now as you mourn your grandmother.

Yet the hot flames dry your tears and its heat embraces you tighter, but like every other time, its embrace, its kiss, and its touch is not uncomfortable like it is to everyone else. It’s welcoming, it’s nice like a friend…that’s been with you since you can recall.

No matter how hard you try, its whispers grow louder, but never desperate, it’s calling is charming, and like many other times, it entrances you.

The longer you stare at its beauty, the more it promises, swears that it’s empowering but only if you embrace it back.

You try to look away regardless of what calls for you, but how can you turn your back on what’s feeding your starving soul?

Fire kills the girl and awakens the dragon.

You can’t look away. You can’t ignore it. Not anymore.

Thus you mindlessly shrug your cloak off and let it drown in the puddle around your feet. You kick your shoes off because you are mindful of how much you love your shoes, and get closer, but it almost feels like you aren't the one controlling your body, it’s being controlled by the power of the trance. It moves you and you let it.

You raise your hand from your side and reach for the flames as if reaching out for an inviting hand.

You don’t show hesitation or fear, a malicious smirk tugs on your lips and the confidence, pride, and malice that washes over you gleams in your eyes like the illuminating fire because there’s never been anything to fear about the fire. It's why you don’t think of pulling away, you embrace the fire like securing your grip on an inviting hand.

Yet just as you raise your foot to step inside the calling flames, a hand suddenly grabs a hold of your wrist and you’re yanked back harshly under the rain.

When you look at the intruder you meet the gaze of your husband, your Aemond looking at you with horror. Yet that emotion slowly fades away as he lifts your hand and sees that you’re unharmed.

Now instead of fearing that you were going to jump in the fire to hurt yourself, he’s left flabbergasted and confused. You could explain it to him with words, but at that moment you can’t muster a single syllable, so instead you pull away and show him.

Aemond wants to stop you again. It’s an instinct, but when you put your hand in the fire and don’t wince, or make a sound of pain, as he sees that the fire doesn’t hurt a single perimeter of your flesh he’s struck with awe that leaves him paralyzed where he stands. It’s not horror or disgust. You walk under the rain again and study him closely to make sure, to know if you should be ashamed, but no matter how much you search his face or dig your gaze in his, there’s nothing you see but awe, admiration, a bit of confusion, and more adoration for you.

He sees you with the opposite of what you feared, with love and fascination, and you feel seen.

There in the darkness you are cast in is your light and you feel…like…you can be something important under his eye, with him because he sees you.

Sure you could have shown your mother, your brother, or even Cregan that the fire doesn’t hurt you. It’s your friend, you're immune to its violence and that’s your gift, but you didn’t share that with them and they didn’t see, but Aemond does. He sees you now, he looks at you like you are something more than you thought you could be and you’re relieved

You have yet to fully be embraced by the flames, but at last, someone knows and someone loves you for it. Someone sees your value and your power. Then again in some ways he always has, now he just sees all of you.

“Come with me,” he whispers, and thunder cuts in from the distant sky.

He offers you his hand and you don’t hesitate, you place your hand over his, and secure his grasp. Before you leave though you slip your shoes back on and pick up your cloak drenched with water.

At first, you expect to be taken well anywhere else but the throne room. Yet much to your surprise, you’re now embraced by the darkness of the glorious hall with only the night's hue casting in a natural light, and the occasional shots of bright lightning flashing an ominous light.

“They would love you,” his voice oozes out like honey. “I know that. Even now they love you, but imagine then, hm?” His words travel in your ear and they make a chill crawl down your spine.

“We—even before we married, when we were just kids…” he says and walks around you, making sure to bring his hand up to press his palm down on the back of your neck, making the hairs on the back of your neck rise, and those goosebumps to spread as he brings his lips close to your ear and lets his breath unfurl over your skin.

“…we were a lot more than my sister and Aegon. We valued our traditions, we value them even now. We are what all Targaryens rulers should be because we always wanted it.”

…he…

“Can’t you see it? Can’t you see us?” He whispers against your flesh, tempting you to tilt your head to try and meet his lips.

“Be Regent with me,” he offers again, but this time in a soft and almost pleading voice that makes your body move so you can be face to face and interlock gazes.

“I hear your protests,” he adds and glances at your lips only inches away from his. “But Helaena has never wanted what she has, you have…”

He…

“You and I will be the best of them,” he continues and continues to grow this realization. That’s what it is, a realization in the darkness of the room.

No matter how much you have tried to deny it, how hard you have pushed it down and brushed it off, it’s always been there. And it was never a darkness, and that hunger for more was never a plague. That’s a lie.

There was this desire, this need always within you. He knows that he sees that like no one else has. And just like the fascination he had for you when he saw you unhurt by the fire, now you return that fascination for him and his offer.

“You and me,” you whisper and those silent words travel over the sound of thunder because you can feel the warmth of his lips basically embrace yours.

And instead of answering with words, a malicious smirk tugs on his lips, and his awe only heightens for you, drawing him to smash his lips over yours just as you lean in at the same time, and bringing you both to forget where you are.

The rain patters harshly against the windows, against the roof, the thunder booms, and the lightning strikes the earth and flashes its bright light, but neither of you give it a second thought or any thought at all. It’s just you and him, basking in the passion brought by your selfish desires come to life. Because that's what it is, selfish on your part. It’s not selfless, you did not accept his offer for her, you accepted because you wanted to.

But Daemon pushed you here, didn’t he?

And Aemond sees you, he sees something in you. You can be something with him. That’s all you want, that’s all you have wanted.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“He dares to summon me!” Aemond barks with rage after reading a demand from Lord Jason Lannister. “With haste?”

He throws the crumbled letter to the side and leans over the table to glare at the brother sitting at your right side.

“Are the Lannisters so diminished that they cannot march from the Tooth to Harrenhal without an escort?”

You clasp your hands over the table and slowly drift your gaze to the blond man avoiding Aemond’s seething glare.

“There is a large dragon in the Riverlands, Your Grace,” Ser Tyland defends his brother's choice, which makes sense, but also sounds a bit like an excuse. A pretty pathetic excuse. “My brother's army is strong, but it does seem—”

“I am the Prince Regent,” Aemond reminds the man. “Not a dog to be called to heel. Tell your brother that if he does not deliver his host to Harrenhal, with ‘haste’,” he mocks. “Daemon’s dragon will become the least of his worries.”

A smirk tugs on your lips that you can't hide, that you can’t shame either. Aemond is right to be angry, and right to project his anger in that way, or else they won’t listen. Besides, you do have to admit you like it when he’s angry, and this new role of command suits him well.

Yet not everyone agrees, especially not his mother. She glances over at you in search of aid, but you just meet her gaze and flash her your smirk as you lift your nose in the air and sit back; because now you too carry this sense of cockiness, this rise in your ego that comes with your new title that the Lords around the table had to oblige to out of fear of Aemond.

If it were up to them they wouldn’t have allowed the daughter of Rhaenyra to sit amongst them and listen to their war plans, but you are now the Princess Regent in a time of war, you are needed around the table to listen mostly. And yes that bugs you, you still want to do more, and you hope now that Aemond discovered your immunity he’ll let you do more, that he’ll let you fight like you wanted to, but you don’t know. You haven’t talked about that night and the fact that he saw that the fire is not harmful or deadly to you, you haven’t had time, and even if you know you saw the love and awe in his eyes you still fear what he has to say on the matter, so that also why you haven’t really tried to talk about it.

You’ll talk about it soon, you have to, right now you’re just relishing in the fact that you’re around the table and that you have a more important title. You find pride in it, and more power than you’ve had before.

It’s intoxicating.

“Your irritations are justified, Aemond,” Alicent tries to do what she wanted you to do. “But it does seem—”

“I have a task for you, as well,” Aemond cuts Alicent off as he begins to stalk around the table. “Ser Tyland.”

Alicent’s brown eyes once again find you and pass her confusion for her son's sudden cold shoulder towards her, and even if you know what brought this on, you don’t offer her sympathy or pity, you look at her blankly before following Aemond with your eyes and watch him land behind Ser Tyland, like a predator scaring its prey.

“We will make an alliance with the Triarchy,” Aemond continues. “I've had enough of this cursed blockade.”

“My Prince,” Ser Tyland tries to bring up an argument. “You cannot mean to treat with the Free Cities. The captains of their ships are dangerous mercenaries, little more than pirates—”

“They are a stone's throw away across the Narrow Sea,” Aemond cuts the man's argument off as he steals a glance at you to let his gaze linger on you before he drops his eye on the man under him. “Lannister and Hightower ships will take months to arrive. The Triarchy will delight in the chance to terrorize the Sea Snake again. Let them weaken his blockade while our true allies make their long journey east.”

“The Triarchy may play at accepting terms but they are not to be trusted,” Alicent tries to reason with Aemond. “Your father knew this. What has come of our letters to the Greyjoys?” She drifts to a different matter in the same territory.

“They have been to no avail,” maester Orwyle gives the Dowager Queen the answer she seeked.

“The Red Kraken waits,” Lord Jasper interjects. “Seeking his best advantage. Though we may draw him in with honey. If it comes to it. An offer of marriage, perhaps to the Dowager Queen?”

You snicker in amusement and Alicent glances at you as she protests. “Out of the question.”

“You’ll have better luck breaking the Ice Wall,” you break your silence with knowledge you harbor from your past in the North. “When I was ward to Lady Karstark, the Greyjoys would send raid parties to Stony Shores, so to make them stop Lord Bennard Stark sent a proposal, one of his sons to one of Lord Greyjoy's many daughters,” you scoff and slowly lean forward.

“Lord Greyjoy sent back a nasty and bloody reply to deny the proposal. The raids did not stop until Lord Cregan Stark became lord because the Greyjoys’s answer with violence. I would suggest letting them sack some town close to their shores to gain their favor.”

“A bloody proposal but it might work,” Lord Larys actually says in your favor.

Alas Lord Jasper counters with discreet disagreement.

“We would have to think about it, and think of which shores they can attack.”

And that’s another way of saying no. You’ll tell your mother then, or Daemon, they’ll listen and gain their favor instead.

“The Dowager Queen spoke wisely, Your Grace,” Ser Criston cuts in. “Even if the blockade could be broken, are we to invite these alien raiders into our waters, so close to King’s Landing?”

“It’s time you set out for Harrenhal, I think,” Aemond pays his thought no mind and actually does as you told him. Which only works to feed that already heightened cockiness.

“Your Grace, if Daemon prevails in the Riverlands I no longer have the numbers to challenge him,” Ser Criston rebuttals, making you bite back your smug smile as you sit back and instead let your cockiness be shown in the way you sit, and the way your nose is slightly perked to touch the air, welcoming the sunlight to kiss your face just perfectly and only make you look that more regal.

“We lost much at Rook’s Rest,” Ser Criston makes sure to share while his eyes follow Aemond as he sits on the edge of the table beside him. “As you well know.”

“The longer we wait, the more chance he will prevail,” Aemond rebuttals using a variation of what you told him not long ago. “Lannister will march from the west. Take what strength we have and force Daemon and his Riverlords to fight on two fronts.”

You fiddle with one of your many rings on your fingers and watch the man seem almost hesitant to do as he’s told.

“His Grace speaks wisely,” Lord Larys says, but Ser Criston argues.

“We would do better to await the Hightower host and set out in good time.”

Aemond’s gaze drifts to you and you lock eyes but say or motion for nothing. You remain as prideful and smug and just hold his gaze until he returns his attention to the man beside him.

“There is no time,” Aemond counters. “It’s a fortnight's march to Harrenhal. We must strike before his army is raised.”

“And you yourself?”

Aemond tilts his head up and once again shares his smugness on the Daemon matter. “I will fly out to meet you when the time is ripe. My uncle is a challenge I welcome…if he dares face me.”

You could laugh at that. You could laugh at the many things Aemond says about Daemon because he thinks that Daemon is somehow scared, or at his level, and sure Aemond is threatening with Vhagar and his swordsman’s skills, but Aemond doesn’t have Daemon’s experience yet, once he does then you can say they could see eye to eye.

“I have some concerning news to share,” Lord Larys interjects and earns everyone’s attention. “I have just heard that Lord Cregan Stark leads an army of two thousand older men.”

You blink and that overpowering arrogance falters at the mention of Cregan, at the mention that he’s on his way to fight for his Queen after he said he couldn’t march so soon himself.

He’s actually coming down and that thought excites you more than it should. It makes your heart swoon more than it should. Yet you don’t display the smile that threatens to spread on your lips, you don’t let your heart show your pride or joy through your eyes, you remain nonchalant and ignore the attentive eyes of Lord Larys as he tries to catch any reaction, but you don’t give him the satisfaction.

“A measly army of old men that will be brought down quickly,” Aemond brushes Lord Larys off, but that's what the Lord expected, he just wanted to see how you would react, but you don’t fall for his trap.

“Now, I see we’re all agreed,” Aemond brings an end to the meeting after a moment's silence whilst he returns to his seat across from you.

“Your Grace,” Ser Criston says after he stands up.

The other bodies around the table don’t linger behind, they rise from their seats and walk out, you do the same but rather than walking out right away, you make yourself around the table to press a kiss on Aemond’s cheek that he welcomes by leaning over to meet your lips.

“My love,” you offer him sweet words before stepping back to walk around his seat with your fingers brushing over his shoulders.

Before you can lose touch, he captures your hand and brings you to a stop.

“Mother…a word,” he calls out before Alicent can leave the perimeters, all while he never once breaks your connection, and sparks this quick-growing tension that makes your heart begin to race with excitement.

“You,” he directs at you. “Eat. Don’t think you went unnoticed when we broke fast.”

You sigh. “I have found it more difficult this morning, they did not like what I ate,” you refer to the twins inside you. “Even now the thought of any food makes me want to vomit.”

Aemond hums and lets your hand go to caress your belly. “I’ll talk to the maester. You talk to Vanessa, have her make you some tea.”

You offer him a soft smile and give his mind some peace by nodding in agreement.

Aemond caresses your belly one more time with a faint smile before he grabs your hand and sends you off with a kiss on your knuckles.

As you walk away you don’t leave in silence, you pass Alicent and give her your last word. “Mother.”

Her eyes follow you and you can feel them on your back as you stride out with a teasing smirk because you both know that you meant that mockingly.

Now to the Godswood, where you won’t be alone, no, now rather than one guard there’s two watching over you now; Ser Jason, and Ser Cane Clegane; The Blood Hound as he’s popularly known, a thirty-something-year-old man who is rather stoic, with broad shoulders, built like an ox, and carries a deep and almost rocky voice. You are wary mostly because of your own indiscretions, but from what little time you have had with him he does look rather trustworthy.

Then again Aemond did personally inspect him and even tested his worth, so he is reliable if your life is ever threatened.

You hope you’ll have to wait and see.

Regardless, no one interrupts the peace you instantly find in the Godswood. You find comfort in the smell of the red leaves that swirl in your nose thanks to the gentle wind that howls in your ear. You feel bliss as the warm sunlight peeking through the gaps between the red leaves kisses your face. And not counting the shadows lurking in the distance, you don’t feel alone as you lose your eyes on the weeping face carved on the weirwood tree.

Eyes stare back at you, but it’s not a piercing gaze, it’s not judgmental, or heavy with intimidation, they’re gentle eyes, caring, and attentive. They admire your smile as you can’t help but think of Cregan marching down with his men to fight.

You shouldn’t be so happy, you need to knock your joy and pride down a peg or two after all, it’s unlikely you’ll see him, but you can’t help but feel…happy at the thought after you were certain that he would not dare come so soon.

And it’s not that you want to hop on your dragon and meet him halfway, no, the thought doesn’t cross your mind. You’re just happy to hear he’s coming with his army of men.

“Princess.”

And just like that your peace is broken, and by no other than Alicent who seems quite distressed when you turn to face her.

Why? What could she want?

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Abbey by Mitski is yours and Aemond's anthem period in this story period.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan

[apomaro-mellow]

Hospitals still weren't Eddie most favorite place to be, even though they had technically saved his life once. He didn't give doctors the credit though. No, he reserved that praise for his husband who had literally carried him through hell, holding his guts together.

But alas, he was still only human. And thus prone to human ailments. Which was why he was currently in a hospital bed, preparing for a tonsillectomy.

"Steve, my love, my muse", Eddie took his hand and kissed it. "Should I not return from this-"

"Oh shut up. It's a routine operation." Steve could tell he was being dramatic to cover up the fact that he was actually scared. "You'll be fine. In fact, I'm going down to the cafeteria right now. You're not getting just any ice cream. I'm gonna bring you back a whole sundae."

Steve looked to the rest of the band, who had come for moral support. "Watch him please. And don't let him fall to hysterics." He left out, really hoping he wouldn't come back to an Eddie in tears.

"Sooo", Grant started. "If you don't make it, who gets your house?"

Eddie's brow furrowed. "Uh, my husband, duh?"

"Okay, who gets your husband?", Gareth asked.

Eddie saw the cavalry arrive in the form of Steve's true soulmate. "Robiiiiin", he whined. "You have to protect Steve from these vultures", he hissed the last word.

"We're just trying to hash out who has dibs on Eddie's hot husband", Jeff said.

Robin pointed to herself. "I made it clear to Eddie when he proposed that should the marriage end, either naturally or by divorce, custody of Steve would revert back to me."

"Not exactly the answer I was looking for Bucks, but as long as you keep Steve out of another man's clutches, I won't haunt you from the grave."

"Actually, I plan on setting him up with the first wealthy guy he meets", Robin said. "Thanks to your fame, I've become accustomed to a certain lifestyle. And also, Steve doesn't know how to be single."

The other CC boys nodded sagely.

"All the more reason one of us should get him. We can take care of him", Grant said.

"I can't believe this. This is a goddamn coup!", Eddie shouted.

Steve returned, none the wiser to their conversation. "You won't believe this. The cafeteria has chocolate syrup AND nuts? Isn't that wild? You're gonna have the best sundae of your life, babe."

He took his seat right next to Eddie's bedside and kissed his forehead.

"Angel, we're surrounded by snakes and thieves", Eddie said deliriously.

"What are you talking about?", Steve asked.

Having only Eddie in his line of sight, he couldn't see the others behind him. So he didn't see Jeff making kissy faces, Gareth making a circle with his hand and sticking a finger through it repeatedly, or Grant making a V with his fingers and flapping his tongue between them.

"Those traitorous lechers covet what is mine. And not even Robin seeks to protect your virtue!", Eddie said, desperately reaching out for Steve.

Steve kept his voice even and calm, trying to soothe his husband from whatever delusion he was having when the doctor came in. This guy looked like he played a doctor on tv. Chiseled jaw with perfectly manicured facial hair.

"Good evening", he greeted.

"Hi", Steve said, voice a little breathy.

"Oh he's perfect", Robin said, reading her friend perfectly.

"I'm Dr. Morip, I'll be performing your operation today."

"Morip?", Eddie tilted his head.

"Yes, as in 'more ripped than you'." Then he flexed and busted out of his scrubs and swept Steve off his feet, ignoring the cries of the invalid on the bed.

Eddie was tossing and turning even as Steve shook his shoulders to wake him up.

"You were having a nightmare", Steve spoke softly in the dim lamp light of the hospital room. "Was it 86 again?"

"Steve!", Eddie clung to him as best as he could. "You didn't leave me for Dr. Morip!"

"Dr. Morip? Eddie, her name is Dr. Hudson. And she's married and in her sixties."

Everything caught up with Eddie as his brain became more lucid. He'd already had the operation. That had all been a dream. The tension released instantly as he realized he wasn't about to die on the table and Steve would be scooped up by opportunistic friends.

"You're mine, you know that?"

"Really? Is that why I'm hand-feeding you ice cream?", Steve teased, holding up a spoonful to Eddie's lips.

"I love you", Eddie said, voice muffled from the food and a little watery too.

"I know, you dope. Love you too."

[istoleyoursk1n]

HI HELLO MAY I REQUEST FOR HEADCANONS HOW WOULD ASTARION AND GALE REACT WHEN TAV IS THER SOULMATE IN SOULMATE AU (SEPARATE) THANK YOUUYUDNDNDBN

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would Astarion and Gale react to Tav being their soulmate in soulmate AU?

(I’m literally in love with this concept so guess what? No bullet points this time, full on paragraphs to fully immerse you in this universe.)

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

The wretched red string had been connected to him for centuries now, a string he had tugged, torn, and sewn back together throughout his decades of torment and loss. There were days when he saw the red string as a small piece of hope that he held onto ever so dearly, holding onto the delicate string with bruised hands from the many “lessons” his master had thrown upon him. Would the person on the other side ever come to his aid? Can this individual feel his pain and suffering? Would they ever hear his call? That tiny string was his one salvation but it was also a source of deep pain.

For why haven't you come yet? He had spent centuries waiting, mourning, screaming, and begging for a savior, wishing that one of these days his “soulmate” would finally come to save him from this torturous prison but no... No one came. 200 years and you never showed up. Could you blame him for tearing through the delicate string? Could you blame him for wishing to break ties with you? All this time waiting and he couldn't even feel you coming closer. Was he truly that worthless? Yet still, he always came crawling back to the torn string, despite his resentment he’d stitch the two halves right back up just as he's done time and time again. For as much as he wished to despise you, he couldn't. He’d claim that he’d given up on the concept of soulmates and true love yet he so desperately holds onto this vibrant red string like a lifeline. Perhaps it was because it was the only thing that was truly his at the time.

From the stress of being captured by mind flayers and recently escaping the cold grasp of his master, meeting his soulmate wasn't exactly the next thing he was hoping to experience. The moment his eyes met with yours, he was left stunned and speechless as he watched that battered red string slowly fade. A soulmate found.

You weren't what he had expected at all. He’d always think of what you may look like in his spare time alone in the shadows but never this. Perhaps a bit taller… shorter, it was hard to imagine how that you were here in the flesh. Though, at the same time he truly didn't know what to feel. A mixture of relief, sadness, anger, confusion, and perhaps even a sprinkle of happiness. For centuries he’d been waiting for you and you only decide to show up now? He couldn't quite tell if it was a blessing or a curse. He wanted to lash out at you, to ask what took you so long but at the same time he just… if anything he needed a break. He needed a long well-needed break. He was going to threaten the first damn adventurer he saw but seeing that it was you? Well. Perhaps, it would be better to stay with you as he processes his new-found feelings towards you. Both good and bad.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

The red string was always something that constantly piqued his own nagging curiosity. It was never something that truly left his mind. He’d often spend a few minutes a day staring at the thing, watching as it subtly moved or swayed each time the other end of it was dragged along by you. But who exactly was you? A question that constantly plagued his mind each time he felt a small tug or his eyes fell back down to the string. In truth, he already wished to meet you, he was quite enamored by the fact that he did in fact have someone meant for him. The things you both could do together and the adventures you both could share. He was already imagining how each would play out with this imaginary version of you he’d conjure in his head.

However, it all began to crumble down the day he finally made his mind up to seek you. That was the very day he fell into Mystra’s clutches. To be the very chosen of a goddess! How could he possibly deny such an offer? To be working so closely with his own deity and to be given an abundance of knowledge that he so craved. Soon enough, the goddess had wrapped the ambitious wizard around her finger, giving him a “love” that no mortal could ever deny. She was meant to replace this “soulmate” of his. To have a curious little mage adore to her own blissful amusement. Yet, as Gale indulged, he couldn't help but feel… wronged. As if despite being showered by the musings of a literal goddess, it just wasn't enough. What he had just wasn't enough. He didn't feel enough.

There had been days where he’d stare longingly into his own red string, perhaps even silently apologizing to the individual at the other end knowing that his heart truly never lied with Mystra. And perhaps she knew that too.

When Mystra had finally cut ties with him were the days he was the most devastated. Not just because of the loss he felt from losing the favor of a goddess he so deeply worshipped but because he felt as if he betrayed you. Would you even accept him like this? Would he even be enough for you? He truly didn't know. You could imagine the surprise on his face when he finally did get to meet you though. A firm hand suddenly pulling him out of a broken portal and when he finally looked up, he saw you. His red string finally began to fade and at that moment, he was already smitten.

He didn't have to be convinced or told otherwise. He already knew he was going to adore you.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[smileyoongle]

Pairing- VampireKing!Jungkook × Human!Reader

Genre- Arranged Marriage AU (Sort of?), Enemies to Lovers, Soulmate AU

Summary- Jeon Jungkook was known to be a tyrant, destroying anything and everything to get what he wanted. And this time, he wanted you.

A/N- Hi guys, this chapter is not essentially a chapter in the series. It is more like an explanation of the current world order in the series' timeline. Please remember, there is going to be no taglist for this series, so keep your notifications on. Okay bye :-)

The Exodus: Unveiling the Origins and Consequences of the Night-Walker Dominion

By Elara Claxon

July 14th 1324

Three thousand years ago, the world witnessed a cataclysmic event known as The Exodus. It was a day when Hell, overwhelmed by an unprecedented number of sinners, could no longer contain them. In an act of desperation, the Devil unleashed these tormented souls upon the Earth, transforming them into vampires. They emerged from their graves, giving birth to an era of terror and bloodshed. These night-walkers, driven by an insatiable thirst for blood, wreaked havoc across the world, decimating entire populations and forcing humanity into hiding.

For years, humans struggled to survive, constantly on the run, seeking refuge from their relentless pursuers. In the midst of this chaos, they began to uncover the weaknesses of these creatures and devise means to counter their strength. It was during this dark period that two self-chosen leaders emerged—Theron for the humans and Aristarchus for the vampires. These leaders, whose names have since become legendary, met in secret to negotiate a fragile peace.

At the time, the world was divided into thirteen nations. Theron and Aristarchus brokered an agreement to partition these nations based on mutual understanding, creating a semblance of order amid the chaos. For a while, this uneasy truce held, allowing both humans and night-walkers to coexist in their respective territories.

However, not all vampires were content with the division. A faction of them, hungry for absolute power, revolted against the established order. They waged a brutal campaign, overthrowing the human-controlled kingdoms one by one until only a single human nation remained. Today, the world is divided into twelve vampire kingdoms and one human kingdom, a stark testament to the aftermath of the great night-walker revolt.

To govern their expanding dominion, the monsters established a ruling council known as the Domini, composed of the seven oldest and most powerful night-walkers. These ancient beings, with centuries of wisdom and strength, assumed control over the night-walker kingdoms. They decreed that one vampire would be chosen as Emperor, tasked with overseeing all thirteen kingdoms. Despite this, the human kingdom remained autonomous, refusing to acknowledge the night-walker emperor’s rule.

The Domini also codified a set of laws and principles in a tome called "The New Order." This book became the cornerstone of vampire governance, outlining the rights and responsibilities of both the Primas and the Foundlings. Primas, the pure-bred who were awakened from the grave by Hell or some miracle, held a revered status. Foundlings, created from turned humans, were often treated as outcasts within their own society.

In recent times, tensions have reached a boiling point. The humans, determined to reclaim their lost territories and sovereignty, have incited revolts across the vampiric kingdoms. These uprisings have led to widespread destruction and loss of life on both sides. Cities lie in ruins, and the streets run red with the blood of humans and night-walkers alike.

The world now stands on the brink of another great upheaval. The delicate balance maintained by The New Order is crumbling under the weight of renewed conflict. As humans fight to regain their power and night-walkers struggle to maintain their dominance, the future of this fractured world hangs in the balance. The Domini, once thought to be the unassailable rulers of the night-walker kingdoms, find their authority challenged at every turn. The ancient treaties and laws that once held the world together are now mere relics of a forgotten era.

In this tumultuous landscape, the fate of humanity and night-walker-kind alike is uncertain. The echoes of The Exodus still reverberate through the ages, a grim reminder of the chaos that can ensue when the balance of power is disrupted. As both sides prepare for the battles to come, one thing is clear: the world as it once was will never be the same again.

Stay vigilant, stay informed, and may we never lose hope.

For information, or to report news, please find us at:

23 Shadowed Alley, Raven's Cross, Valoria

The Eyewitness Post | Keeping the Light of Truth Alive in the Darkest Times

[hitoshitoshi]

The Fish That Bind [Rafayel x Reader]

Summary: How art captures a soul | How art betrayed Rafayel for the first time. Tags: Angst, Past Life Memories, Soulmates but not really, Abysswalker Rafayel myth lore.

Your highness took up art as a way to pass the time, but no matter how many muses you try to find, no matter how things you try to draw; people; animals; skies; plants— you always find yourself drawing the same fish. It's baffling, really—why that fish? The details of the fish always elude you though, it was like trying to remember a dream that was slipping away from you as you wake, but something about it tugged at your soul. You can't remember why, but every stroke felt familiar, like a lost memory that once meant everything to you. It was Rafayel's fish; the one he created with his Evol to follow you around. Though you could barely make out its silhouette in your mind, not even remembering why it was in your mind, it was the only thing that made your heart flutter—the only thing that kept you tethered to this thing—this feeling in your entire being that feels empty yet full when you draw that fish.

Your highness seeked out the finest artisans, mastering every technique they could offer, mastering everything yet your hand always returns to drawing that damned fish the way you only knew how to draw that fish. It was as if your very soul was guiding you, reaching out for something it refuses to forget even when your mind has already done so.

And then, in another life, you found yourself painting alongside Rafayel. He glanced at your canvas, and at that moment his heart shattered and soared all at once. The fish you've drawn was the same awkward, ugly, and pathetic fish your highness once sketched for him on the first birthday you spent with him in Lemuria—the horrible representation of his beloved Evol fish, yet in his eyes was a masterpiece—was in front of him once again.

But now, Rafayel stood there frozen, torn at the sight. His heart ached with a longing so deep it nearly broke him, because he knows—he knows it's you. The same soul he loved so desperately centuries ago. But you're not his highness. You're just his bodyguard, you're not his beloved bride from 800 years ago. How could he burden you with the weight of a love that spanned lifetimes? How can he dare to love you when he's no longer your beloved husband? How can he dare love you when you're—you're not—he couldn't even explain it himself in words if he tried to, how could he? But he could explain it with art. Though he’s forgotten much about Lemuria—the shimmering seas, the vibrant culture, the ancient language—one thing remains clear: Rafayel’s soul’s language was art.

But there was one minute detail that pulled Rafayel back to reality. The fish that you drew had a subtle difference—a detail that only his highness would remember. A heart right beside the fish's head—it was absent. That one detail changed everything. Your sketch was no longer a sketch of his fish but of a fish. His highness would always draw a heart beside the shaky lines and the uneven scales, but his bodyguard didn't. It was moments like this where Rafayel wished that an anchor was tied to him, keeping him confided to the sea—his home—but no. This anchoring feeling was one of dread and hopelessness. His connection to Lemuria, to the life he once knew; his tie his highness, no longer being there. Rafayel truly lost everything and was stuck at the bottom of an empty sea with no one to hear out his silent pleas.

A/N: I hope you had a reel-y good time. Get it? Reel? As in reel in a fish? Either way, it was inspired by the newest event that's about to release.

If you like otome games, including Love and Deepspace, you should join Linkon Lounge! A discord server that's LGBTQ+ friendly (only serving those who are 18+) where we all can share our interests, talk to roleplaying bots (Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, and Sylus), and have fun game, movie, and stream nights where we stream games and/or cards that we pulled that others want to see. It would be super fun to have you as a member of our server.

Click here to join Linkon Lounge!

Masterlist

[svthub]

svthub presents: fall-ing for you

This autumn, SVTHUB is falling for you! Come celebrate this season with the people you love; we've heard these stories pair well with a slice of warm apple pie...

This collab will contain a combination of SFW and NSFW works. See each individual fic for tags and warnings.

Join the fall-ing for you taglist!

🍂 choi seungcheol 🍂 "under the skin" by @cheolism

tags: NSFW, smut, supernatural

synopsis: Golde is a quiet town where everything seems to pass slowly, as if in a golden haze. It’s perfect, from the daily stops at a local cafe before work, the students who seem to adore you, to the cheeky maths teacher across the hall, Choi Seungcheol. Or at least it would be perfect, if it weren’t for what lurks beneath the surface of Golde and the fact that you were a hunter on a mission but had the feeling it was you, instead, being hunted.

🍂 yoon jeonghan 🍂 "bound to you" by @onlymingyus

tags: NSFW, smut, angst, supernatural, soulmate au

synopsis: There is a little magic in everyone but there is something about you that makes Jeonghan curious about more than just your name.

🍁 joshua hong🍁 "fade into you" by @writingmingyu

tags: SFW, fluff, childhood friends to lovers

synopsis: After drunkenly agreeing to meet an online friend in real life for the first time, you discover this wasn’t the first time you’d met…

🍂 wen junhui 🍂 "mr. (not so) perfectly fine" by @gyuhanniescarat

masterlist • teaser

tags: NSFW, series, fluff, smut, angst, university au

synopsis: Junhui learns the hard way that matters of love are not to be played with; or, a moment in which y/n falls first, but Junhui never fell (or did he?)

🍂 kwon soonyoung 🍂 "rusted away" by @hoeforhao

part 1 •

tags: NSFW, angst, mild fluff, mild smut, exes to lovers, bakery shop au, mutual pining, slow burn

synopsis: You and Soonyoung broke up almost two years ago because, according to him, sharing a common interest point with each other to talk about at the end of the day was a necessity. How will things turn out for the spiriting away lovers, now that their friend group has assigned them both the common job of baking muffins for the fall party!

🍂 jeon wonwoo 🍂 "cats & coffee for two" by @multi-kpop-fanfics

tags: NSFW, fluff, smut, mild comedy, mutual pining, coworkers to lovers

synopsis: Job hunting is a tough sport and Wonwoo has experienced it to its core. One fine autumn day comes where he's finally free from the shackles of unemployment, but he will soon find himself in the shackles of coffee, tea and cat hairs, But most importantly, he will have to share these shackles with you.

🍂 lee jihoon 🍂 "a whisper from the forest" by @idyllic-ghost

tags: NSFW, fantasy/magical realism, romance/fluff, smut, angst

synopsis: When two lonely hearts meet, even under the strangest of circumstances, they bond with each other in a unique way. And as the weather grows cold, and as we seek warmth in the form of another’s embrace, we tend to seek those bonds out with more desperation. So when Jihoon - a solitary lumberjack living on the outskirts of a small town - finds himself enthralled with a fairytale creature of the forest, he doesn’t hesitate to let himself be held and loved. And who are you to deny him that love when it is all you want as well?

🍂 lee seokmin 🍂 "sweeter than pies" by @cheollipop

tags: NSFW, fluff, smut, established relationship

synopsis: A lovers’ retreat—golden rays cast shadows over high, blushing cheekbones, flour-kissed noses and eye smiles as warm as the oven’s embrace, secrets and tender kisses shared with the starry night, and in a wooden cabin fragrant with the aroma of cinnamon and caramel, the love shared was sweeter than the finest apple pie.

🍂 kim mingyu 🍂 "endless adoration" by @wonusite

tags: NSFW, best friend’s brother au, friends with benefits au, fluff, smut

synopsis: Mingyu has been irrevocably in love with you since he was in high school. He decides to keep this a secret until he can move on since you’ve only ever seen him as your best friend’s brother. However, his plan goes awry when you ask him to take your virginity and teach you about sex—as a friend, of course.

🍁 xu minghao 🍁 "to keep you warm" by @idyllic-ghost

tags: SFW, fluff, romance

synopsis: You hadn't spent much time with Minghao yet, but you knew that this new relationship could become something that lasts. The true test presents itself when, after a wonderful date walking around in the chilly fall weather, you become sick. Minghao offers to help, without even mentioning that he might have caught a cold as well.

🍁 boo seungkwan 🍁 "rainy nights" by @strawberryya

tags: SFW, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship

synopsis: Is your fiancé ready to weather the storm if your worst nightmares were to be revealed? Maybe it's just the frigid weather seeping inside, unfurling all the anxieties you've locked away, or perhaps there's more to it.

🍂 chwe hansol 🍂 "birch trees & fear street" by @wonwussy

tags: NSFW, fluff, smut

synopsis: A weekend camping trip is just what you and your boyfriend need.

🍂 lee chan 🍂 "take my hands (we can fall together)" by @the-boy-meets-evil

masterlist • part 1 • part 2 • part 3

tags: NSFW, fluff, angst, smut, friends to ??

synopsis: Chan's known you for years and he knows you're friends, but you've always felt just a little bit out of reach. Like you see him as someone your brother brought into the friend group. He's fine with that. Still, it's hard to watch you settle for relationships where you're never the priority. When the weather starts cooling off, Chan figures your favorite season is the time to show you that you deserve better. Even if it's not him.

[mysticheathenn]

What Kind Of Love Do You Need?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is a Patreon All Tiers reading about what kind of love do you need. This can be romantic, self-love, platonic, or even familial.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

Extended Patreon Includes:

How will this love change your life?

Extra Messages

MasterList

Patreon Link

Ko-Fi Donations

Pile l:

What kind of love do you need? Tarot: The Lovers, Ace of Cups, Ace of Pentacles, 6 of Wands, Hanged Man, & Page of Swords.

Romantic. "I want a real love, dark-skinned and Aunt Viv love, [Redacted Part Of Song], That leave a toothbrush at your crib love, And you ain't gotta wonder whether that's your kid love"- J.Cole & Real Love by Mary J. Blige played in my head as I was shuffling pile l. You are in need of a healthy love. The kind of love where you both celebrate each other's wins and even losses, being each other's cheerleader, a shoulder to cry or lean on when life knocks you down, a love where there are no games just pure love, communication, and peace. There is a heavy sense of peace and fulfillment for you, with the kind of love you need. You probably have dated people who wanted nothing but to waste your time, and energy, or even unfortunately use you. You are now working on yourself and if you aren't I feel a glow-up is coming soon where you do work on yourself to help manifest this kind of love into your life because you want a partnership. A true soulmate that was ordained by stars (God, Allah, etc) themselves. There will be no confusion with this kind of love. I'm hearing Greenday- Broken Boulevard but only the part of " I walk a lonely road The only one that I have ever known Don't know where it goes But it's home to me and I walk alone" I feel for some of you those who aren't working on themselves yet you have some ways to go before this kind of love comes into your life. You may still be hurting from your previous relationship or if not still hurting you're in the energy of "Everybody ain't shit and you're better off alone." For others, it's not too far but it's also not going to show up tomorrow the window I am intuitively feeling is within the next two years. This is a long time coming for you pile l. I can feel it's something special. Patreon Post Link

Pile ll:

What kind of love do you need? Tarot: 5 of Pentacles, The Fool, The Hierophant, Ace of Cups, Awakening.

Self-Love. Singleness. Adventure. You are in desperate need of some self-love pile ll. You have been on a wild ride when it comes to allowing others into your life whether platonic or romantic and it's time for you to go into hermit mode for a while. The Tiktok audi "Be by yourself, get to know yourself" which is said in an island accent is coming to mind. You need to figure out who you are pile ll. I feel you have some sort of sense of who you are but you aren't sure if this is actually you or the you that has been crafted by social media, others and their idea of you, or your survival mode you where you crafted parts of yourself and chose the "safe" is to show others who don't like to see your full light because it dims there. There is also a need to let go of some people in your life. I didn't ask Spirit who because if this part resonates you should know. It's typically the first two names that popped in your head when you read the sentence but it's time to let go of people who are not good for you or add any kind of value to your life. Not only getting rid of people but getting rid of the old you. It's time for you to walk into a new light where you are glowing, thriving, and enjoying life how it is meant to be enjoyed instead of barely getting by day by day. You were meant to shine and not follow what everyone else is doing. You were meant to be authentic pile ll. Figure out who you are. Do things you never thought you would never enjoy and do them. Learn some new skills and hobbies. Take an Eat Pray Love trip even if it's just a trip to New York, Miami, Atlanta, Los Angeles, or even fucking Houston Texas if that is more your speed. Get out of your comfort zone. Shed your survival mode personality and shine. It's time for a new adventure. It's time to release this old story you keep playing over and over and start something fresh. What are you waiting for? Patreon Post Link

Pile lll:

What kind of love do you need? Tarot: 5 of Cups, Queen of Swords, 10 of Wands, Knight of Wands, 3 of Pentacles.

Friendship.Self-Care. There is this feeling that you pile lll are the type that likes to do everything themselves without bothering anyone. You may also like to say sorry a lot even when you didn't do anything as well as just not tell people how you are really feeling going through your struggles alone. Please stop. If you have people around you who truly care about your well-being please do let them know how you really are doing. There is nothing worse than having a friend going through things in silence and later on axe themselves off (speaking from experience). You do not have to suffer in silence pile lll. There are people in this world who would or do care about you and your well-being and want to take the load off of your shoulders. Stop being the strong independent cap that social media keeps trying to feed people with the whole grind and stay silent. Stay silent when it comes to goals until they happen, not your well-being. For others of you the kind of love you need is self-care other than taking better care of yourself this is more so having to do with your skills, abilities, and even your career. Some of you want to do more in your career whether it's at the job you are currently at, in the same field, or wanting to do something differently and this is the time to do so. Start learning and sharpening up your skills. Even sharpening up your mind whether it's reading more books maybe by Robert Greene on Mastery or Art of Seduction, learning languages, or whatever it is that you want to do to sharpen your mind ow is the time to do so. Patreon Post Link

Pile lV:

What kind of love do you need? Tarot: Ace of Swords, The Hermit, Awakening, Page of Cups, 3 of Cups

Singleness. Self Love. You may have been drawn to pile ll because they have received a similar reading to what your reading is about to hold on being by yourself, yours is just a little different. Pile ll reading was more so on finding themselves and getting to know themselves while your pile is more focused on loving yourself. Loving who you are and who you have become as a person because I feel a sense that it wasn't easy to become who you are today. You had to fight along the way to become the person you are because many people have probably tried to turn you hard, cold, assertive, or just overall mean and you had to fight to maintain a little bit of kindness, compassion, and some love you feel for others because you know that what others say and do to some people is not a reflection on you but them it's how you respond that is a reflection on you. This is a season of celebrating who you are and loving every inch of yourself. Whether you have body fat, a temper, watching weird shit, whatever it is that others try to put you down for and you somewhat have allowed to let those thoughts creep in this is your time to rebuke them and go forth in loving who you are and what you like. This is a time to go inward and really hone in the ability to not waver on what makes you you. Basically setting boundaries more so for yourself than for others while still remaining loving and kind to yourself. Your pile may also be a bit short like pile lll because it's quite straight to the point with no extra messages. The love you need is the love from yourself. Loving everything about you. Whether you hate your skin tone, voice, body, your interest, whatever it is embrace your flaws, embrace the many things people have been trying to put you down for, and let your beacon shine bright. You were meant to be who you are and nobody else. Don't let the ugliness of the world change who you are. Patreon Post Link

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay Safe and Be Blessed