#distressed cowgirl boots

[emilykaldwen]

High in the Halls

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (OC) Written for the @hotd-bigbang

Rating: Mature

Summary: Aegon Targaryen, the last true Valyrian Warlord, rattles at the machinations of his mother who tries to play Andal politics when he wants nothing more than to be left alone. A chance meeting of a maiden in distress in the Riverlands changes everything.

AKA the Old Valyria AU!

Notes: This is chapter one! Of what will probably be two chapters? I just didn't have the time to finish this, I'm so sorry.

Art by: @the-common-cowgirl / Beta: @vampire-exgirlfriend

Read on AO3

Author's Note: It's the old Valyria AU I've been hinting at for ages! It was a rough summer y'all, and this thing got finished while I was dying from Bronchitis (but before I got Covid) so I wasn't able to finish it. But this is absolutely a universe I want to have fun in and play with from time to time. I hope you enjoy it with me!

Sunfyre’s scream pierced the air, sending seagulls frantically fleeing from the battlements of Dragonstone, crying out as they took to the sky in an explosion of gray and white. The deep pink frills along the back of the dragon’s neck stood high, his head rearing back, snout vivid and wet with the blood of the sea beast he had dragged ashore for him and little Dreamfyre to feast on. His little sister’s dragon was twice the size of a horse, and the dead beast was at least two of her. The pair of them crouched around the great beast on the black sand beach, the waves crashing and little flits of multi-colored light caught in the air every time they broke against the rock of the harsh inlet.

Syrax hissed in response, her head rearing back in offense at being denied, but she eventually turned away, for Sunfyre was twice her size, and the smaller dragon was no match.

Aegon’s half-sister, on the other hand…

“Where is father?”

Aegon tilted his head, looking over his shoulder to where Rhaenyra, stood in the archway that led down to the stables. Her long, silver hair was tied back in a thick braid that fell to her waist, woven with charms that tinkled when she turned her head. The harshness of the style made her look more like Lord Viserys than her own mother, Lady Aemma, whose features were soft like his own mother.

He stayed silent, dragging his thumbnail along the near imperceptible groove of the stonework he leaned against. Did she think he was a servant? Did she think they were as close as their sire liked to pretend they were?

She arched her brows when he didn’t answer, her black boot tapping on the black stone. Before Aegon could open his mouth, there was movement behind Rhaenyra, heavily accented Valyrian answering for him.

“Helaena had another dream last night.” Lady Alicent met Rhaenyra’s eyes as she approached, silent maidens swathed in red following her. She was father’s second wife, taken in marriage when Lady Aemma could bear no more children. Even after all these years, she wore her long green gowns in the style of the continent: square necked and deep sleeved, a heavy, gold chain looped about her waist, her auburn curls held back a net of onyx and emeralds. Next to Rhaenyra in her dark gray riding leathers chased with crimson, Aegon thought his mother looked like a queen.

Rhaenyra ran her tongue over her teeth behind her lips, nodding curtly, and spun away with a swing of her long hair and vanished into the stronghold, vengeful and beautiful in the low light. Helaena’s dreams had changed fate for their family and Aegon did not know if it were better or worse. Some days, in the black of night, he wished he had gone down with the rest of their people in ash and flame. Others, he relished the freedom from politics that had plagued his earliest years. The fearful whispers of assassins, the way Uncle Daemon raged that they did not need to taint their blood to gain the Hightower gold—these things haunted him.

Mother pursed her lips, watching Lady Rhaenyra leave before her large, dark eyes met his.

“You cannot hide from me forever,” she told him in the common tongue. Aegon scoffed and looked back out at the rocky outcropping below where Sunfyre and Dreamfyre continued to devour the salt beast. He didn’t move as she approached, startling only a little when her hand combed through his shoulder length curls. “We must talk about this.”

“Must we?” he snipped, refusing to look at his mother. He kicked the toe of his boot against the stone and resisted crossing his arms to rest his head against them like a petulant child. Aegon was, in fact, acting a little like a petulant child, but he’d grown exhausted of the conversation that had circled for the past three years. “Go speak with Aemond about it. He’ll be more than glad to cross blades with Daemon and Rhaenyra- ow!”

His mother pinched and pulled at his ear to pull his face towards her and Aegon jerked from her grasp instinctively. Alicent Hightower’s lovely features were severe, delicate brows furrowed, pouty mouth pressed into a firm line.

“You are Viserys’ eldest son.”

“And Valyrian law dictates that Daemon inherits as his dragon is older-”

“Valyria is gone,” Alicent spat, her voice grating like the screech of kitlings or claws against stone. “If by chance you’d forgotten in your cups of strongwine, foolish boy. Valyria is gone, to fire and ash these past three years. Their laws of inheritance do not matter. The custom here, Aegon, is that of the eldest son. Sons before sisters, and all before uncles.”

“Then disown me,” Aegon snapped, pulling from his mother’s grasp before she could claw at him further. “Aemond will become your eldest and he shall eagerly fight with Helaena at his side. She could present it as a vision: Aemond inheriting Dragonstone with their children to carry his legacy on.” He clapped his hands together, smiling, although the gesture held no true joy. His smiles rarely did.

Aemond would relish at the opportunity to prove himself, to be more than what his position allowed him. Ever since their first son, Maelor, had been born, his younger brother had strutted about, speaking of his virility, dangling his son, and then soon after, their daughter, Daenys, in front of their father who so loved his grandchildren. Filling the hole that Rhaenyra left when her new family moved out of the fortress to the island of Driftmark, Viserys had indulged his grandchildren and Helaena was expecting her third soon.

The space between them grew as his mother drew back, her mouth pinched so tight that her lips had gone pale. Aegon loathed the way her gaze scraped at his insides and he resisted wrapping his arms around himself protectively, instead focusing on maintaining his languid, distant posture. To show weakness within the obsidian halls of Dragonstone was to be a death sentence. His mother was not of Old Valyria, but of these strange shores that he was more familiar with than the Freehold. She chafed at the ‘strange customs’, sick at the prospect of her children intermarrying with one another to keep their Valyrian blood pure. She misliked his lack of ambition, or how he preferred to spend his time in the brothel in the little fishing village while Lord Viserys lamented not being able to introduce him to the Ruby Palace and the most divine pleasure slaves the Freehold could have offered.

Lady Aemma misliked his father speaking so, although she was better at hiding her frustrations with her tender, tired smiles. His mother also did not care for the time Aegon spent in Lady Aemma’s solar, where they indulged in honey cakes together and she expected nothing from him, letting him lay his head in her lap while she combed her fingers through his hair when his mother’s anxieties turned her vicious.

If his own mother despised so much of him, then why was she so insistent to have him named heir?

“Aegon.”

He could not bear the anguish in his mother’s voice or on her soft features; the way it coalesced with the frustration like how the blood from the carcass on the beach turned the foaming ocean surf as pink as Sunfyre’s wings. Her shoulders that had bowed in on herself straightened, her breathing evening, and her delicate hands smoothed along the richness of her gown. “We will not indulge in such foolish things,” she said with an abrupt shake of her head. “You will be married at the end of the season.”

It felt like she’d punched him in the throat, the air rushing from him like a wheezing carcass. “I have no sisters to marry,” he rasped out, the blood rushing in his ears. Sunfyre’s call from below was a questioning one, and he saw his dragon lift his bloody face to peer up at him.

“One of the River Kings has need of a son in law,” she explained. “He is well known to our family, with only a daughter and the other river kings are circling. In exchange for you to protect his holding and claim his title upon his death, he will ensure that his armies are yours when the time comes.” She sniffed, twisting the ring on her right hand. “Which will be sooner, I think, than we all expect.”

Well known to their family? The Hightowers. The power that family held was ancient and worthy enough of Valyria, their origins a tightly guarded secret, but his father had said the Hightower blood was a special thing, and how lucky he’d been to snap up the daughter of so much power.

Aegon felt strangled and overheated, a pain coursing through his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Does he know?” There was something guttural and full of warning running through Aegon’s words, and it vibrated through him. For a moment, he thought he tasted salt and metal, satiating and repugnant along his tongue, and he spat on the ground to rid himself of the taste of his dragon’s kill.

She sniffed again. “He has allowed me freedom to do with my other two children as I please, and Daeron is eager to become a Maester and not claim a dragon for himself. He will serve you well when his education is completed.”

Something cool and wet slapped against Aegon’s cheek and he blinked, tilting his head up as a fine rain began to fall. His mother hurried back inside, arms wrapped around herself, but Aegon ignored her insistent call to follow him. He stood there letting the rain hit his too hot, too tight skin, wondering if it would sizzle the way it sizzled against the dragons. A fine hiss of steam had surrounded Sunfyre as he continued to eat, Dreamfyre tucked beneath his wing, protecting her in the ways that Aegon was unable to protect Helaena himself.

Of course Daeron didn’t want a dragon. He knew nothing else but what he learned of on the ground.

“You’d barter me to some little king for the power of my dragon!” Aegon shouted, his voice heavy with rage, an anger that he’d rarely let loose coming to the forefront like the storm surge. The heat in his throat was a dragon’s flame - he’d spit fire if he could.

Rage was Aemond’s domain, was Rhaenyra’s, was Daemon’s. But Aegon was just as fearsome when he chose to be.

“Aegon-”

“You had no right!” His hands ached for something to throw, to bend and break and shoving over the brazier on his way inside would have to suffice. The coals hissed and bounced along the stone, the metal clanging loudly along the ground. Mother jerked away at the sound like something skittish, a doe perhaps, or a mourning dove, dark eyes wide at the display. Perhaps she did have reasons to mislike him. “You had no fucking right. Daeron, you can barter around, but I, in case you’ve forgotten, am a Warlord. My mount is not some overgrown horse, but fire incarnate, and should I ever so choose, I could turn your precious Oldtown to ash, and the rest of this land if the whim took me.” His nostrils flared as he breathed, wishing he could snag his mother and shake her until sense rattled in her head once more.

But she misliked him enough that he didn’t, the notion settling like a stone in his gut as he skirted her and followed the ghost of his elder sister. Mother shouted his name, but he ignored her, striding down the dim corridors that snaked through the fortress. Torchlight illuminated the slick walls and made the obsidian shine like some living, slimy thing.

Trilling, melodious and haunting, echoed down the corridor, but Aegon could hear the shifting in Sunfyre’s tone. ‘Bite? Attack?’ the sound seemed to question. The Dragonkeepers along the dock gripped their pikes, shouting for Sunfyre to settle, to calm, but the golden dragon would have none of it. He called, concerned, and it grated and echoed along the cave that housed the stable, boiling saliva and blood dripping from his maw and onto the black stone. Another cry shook dust from stone as Sunfyre made as if he were to scramble his bulk up onto the dock. The Dragonkeepers shouted once more, Keeper Arrax looking at him imploringly.

Aegon met his gaze briefly before approaching, tugging his riding gloves on from his pockets. “Lykirī!” he called up to him, but there was little command in the words. Sunfyre rumbled low in his throat, eyes flicking above Aegon and past him for whomever had caused such upset within his rider. It was only as Aegon lifted a hand to his bloody maw to scratch gently along his nostril, did Sunfyre relax, albeit with extreme annoyance at not having anything to attack.

The dragon snorted and settled, lowering himself enough that Aegon could make his way up the curve of his wing to the saddle. There were no words exchanged. None were needed. Him and Sunfyre were as one; the envy of the last Dragonlords.

The further west Aegon flew, the lighter the clouds became. There was something deeper within that, he was sure, and he could only imagine what poetic waxings his father would engage in had Aegon asked. Aemond would huff and let out the most annoyed of sighs and simply say, ‘Clouds move, you nitwit,’ and whatever obscure and esoteric insults from the books in their father’s library.

The breaking of the clouds revealed the lush green of what his mother’s people called the Riverlands. He’d flown over Crackclaw point and up the river that flowed into the Bay of Crabs, the great mountains of the Vale majestic and snow capped in the distance. The rolling green hills and dense forests were cut through with snaking slashes of blue and marked with weirwoods like drops of blood unfolded beneath him, a tapestry of a world he did not understand. His memories of the Freehold were fuzzy. The villa they’d lived in had been large, and he remembered the palanquin draped in the blacks and reds of their house as he made his way to the Dragonmont to claim Sunfyre. And then Helaena’s dreams had entranced their father and here they came.

Dragonstone was more home than Valyria had ever been, but even so, the obsidian fortress in the shadow of the mountain felt like a cage.

Out here above the Riverlands, Aegon breathed in the crisp air, the scent of the storm they’d passed through untainted by the smell of sulfur and salt that permeated the air of his home. These creatures of mud and root were meant to be subjugated. They were unworthy of the gift of flight, Aegon’s blood was a pure, magical thing, not something to be bartered to such a thing.

But his mother was of these people, and he loved his mother. Her blood flowed through him. She was just as fierce as his sister even if she lacked wings. His Uncle Daemon sneered and called him and his siblings half-breeds, shocked that they were able to claim dragons as they did.

Aegon shook his head, damp hair stuck across his forehead, and urged Sunfyre lower to better make out the land before him. Here, he could see the frightened sheep moving in a great herd as the shadow of the winged predator loomed over them. Sunfyre rumbled his desire and he tugged on the reins.

“You’ve had your fill,” he reminded the dragon, and the beast grumbled his annoyance. They swooped lower now, so Aegon could make out the details of the sheep and their startled herders, and hear the distant barking of the herding dogs that accompanied them. Aegon turned south, crossing over the Trident and soon they came upon Castle Derry nestled in the hills. His brow furrowed and he circled about it curiously. Was this where his bride resided? On the shores of the Ruby Ford?

Aegon flew further out still, towards the lush wood, settling his dragon down by a grove of bone white weirwoods, their crimson stained faces bearing witness to his sulking and self-pity. The forest floor was damp and gave beneath his boots as he approached the heart tree. The smell of petrichor clung in the air from the storms that had passed through; the scent of rich earth, of the pine scent of the evergreen trees that hugged the red grove a physical thing.

It was only the red sap that gave the look of bloody tears against the bark. That’s what the maester had said. Helaena, who received dreams from the gods, said they were the tears of those their visions could not help. Even though theirs were Valyrian gods - the fourteen flames that dragons like Syrax and Caraxes and even little Vhagar bore like badges of honor. Aegon had never felt close to the gods of his people, for they were angry beings that threw the Freehold into a melted, smoking husk and destroyed everything that they’d come from. The places in his hazy, childhood memory, the people who had visited, who had bustled in the forum below, were all gone, as were the multitude of dragons that had filled the sky from the other families, not to mention so many along the empire, and the many who had been unclaimed, roosting in the fissures of the volcanos.

Sunfyre rumbled behind him and Aegon waved a hand. “Go on,” he told him, Valyrian words feeling strange to speak in front of the tree. Sunfyre gave him a long look, as if assessing Aegon’s intent before his legs bunched up and he took off with a gust that nearly pushed Aegon from his feet. He ran his fingers through his hair before resting his hand on the pommel of his sword and looking around. Mayhaps he’d go for a swim. Climb a weirwood and fall asleep in the boughs. He could pilfer some clothes and dye his hair and vanish into the mists of the Riverlands, become something new and unseen. He could -

The scream that ripped through the forest was full of terror and anger, the words distant and shrill, but he could just make out the ‘NO!’ through the cacophony. Alarm took over and Aegon’s head whipped around trying to figure out what direction it came from. Another scream for help and he shifted direction, darting through the weirwood grove and bursting into the firs and evergreens of the rest of the forest.

‘Don’t stop screaming,’ he thought to himself, blood pumping in excitement for a fight. A dragonlord’s first weapon was fire and wing. His second was the blade, and Blackfyre hung reassuringly at his side - the gift his father had bestowed upon him on his twenty-second nameday. Next to fucking and drinking, he relished most the clang and scrape of metal against metal.Aemond could roll his eyes at his lack of finesse, but Aegon loved a good fight; blade, teeth, a punch to the face, all were ideal.

He slowed on approach, darting behind the thick trunk of a red oak large enough to seat his whole family for a meal. There were four men just past the trees by the stream, their horses lingering, pawing at the ground, perhaps from Sunfyre’s presence earlier. Three of them wore simple brown tunics and leggings, tabards of black and yellow with a sigil of eerie yellow eyes peering back at him. Aegon knew little of the houses of the area to know which this was. From the finer cut of cloth the fourth man wore, he was their liege. Tall, with dark blonde hair and broad shoulders, the leader of the group was clad in a tunic of black, his tabard half black, half yellow, edged with golden cording.

“Hush now, you’re safe,” he crooned to the hissing, spitting maiden clutched in his arms. She was a slight thing, her kirtle a deep, forest green, the skirt split over a pair of leggings, elegant embroidery visible across her gown. Aegon’s eyes darted around, looking for her horse, but none was to be found. A noble lady from the looks of it, but the oddity of her being alone in the forest was not his priority.

“Let me go!” she snarled, eyes wide and frightened, and she reached up to claw at the man’s face. Her little hand struck true, raking across his handsome features, and he yelled, striking her hard against the face in retaliation and sending her to the ground.

Sunfyre growled low in Aegon’s chest and before the man could reach for her again, he made himself known, unsheathing the Valyrian broadsword idly, clucking his tongue against his teeth.

“Is this how you Westerosi whelps treat your ladies?” he asked, brow furrowed in feigned confusion as his lilac gaze darted from man to man. “I confess, I’ve only been here for a little time, but from what I’ve been taught, there are laws among your people that frown on such things.” A lie of course; he could care less what laws Westeros had, but the woman was distressed, and he was doubtful any of these men owned her. Why he cared about her distress at all was something he would dissect later.

Aegon’s gaze raked over the men before lingering on the maiden still on the ground. The damp of the earth soaked into her skirts, her copper curls a frizz around her soft, tear streaked face. The ring her assailant wore had cut into her mouth, streaks of blood welling up and smeared across her chin. Her eyes met his in that singular moment, so vivid and bright, an endless blue. Aegon forgot to breathe at the sight of that frightened gaze that looked at him so full of terrified hope, his stomach twisting and pulling, wanting to drag him towards her.

How could he deny such a desperate plea? How could he deny her anything when she looked at him like that?

“Be gone with you, stranger,” the leader of this little band sneered, unbothered by the glint of Valyrian steel in the shafts of light that struggled to cut through the trees and clouds above. Aegon’s gaze met his and he smiled, lazy and unbothered. The creak of leather signaled the unsettled movements of his companions.

“Prince Ed,” one of them said, all nervous hesitation that pleased Aegon. “He’s one of them.” Fearful and othering, but he should fear him. Aegon was not some mortal clawed from mud. He was nearly a god himself, and the dragons were of the gods. Sunfyre purred deep in his chest, feeling Aegon’s amusement. He knew the dragon was approaching, and Aegon could buy himself some time and entertainment. Three against one wasn’t terrible odds. He’d been in brawls like that before, but rarely with a blade, and the swordmaster’s cautious words ran in the back of his mind to be cautious of how he picked his fights.

Sunfyre would be there before things got too out of hand.

The prince narrowed his eyes in Aegon’s direction and took in the languid stance and the Valyrian steel blade. There was a flicker of unease on his face before he set his jaw. “Are you sure?” he laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t think they touched the ground, let alone come down from their mountain, too busy fucking their sisters and fathers and probably their dragons.”

There was a nervous titter of laughter from his group and Aegon joined in, his own manic giggling not quite reaching his eyes. He moved deliberately yet continued his easy stance before he stabbed forward, a flash of polished steel to slide across the arm of this prince of mud. Aegon smiled as they shouted and pulled their blades.

“She’s mine now. Be off with you. I would spare her from witnessing your rolling heads.”

The supposed prince spat at Aegon’s feet, drawing his inferior blade. “A daughter of the Riverlands will not be taken by an inbred Valyrian bastard,” he declared with all the mock chivalry and hot air that he’d been blowing. As if Aegon hadn’t just come upon them attacking the maiden. She’d been backing slowly away as Aegon had held their attention but she froze now as the man’s gaze shot at her. “Marvyn, grab her. I’ll slay this imp abandoned by his beast.”

He was brave. Aegon would give this so-called prince that much. Brave and exceedingly stupid, which often went hand in hand; Aegon would know, having been called such by his mother. The clang of steel against steel rang through the clearing and the shriek of the woman joined them as she lobbed a rock at Marvyn in her attempt to evade their reach. His opponent relied on strength, on the advance and powerful swings, and Aegon knew the type. He ducked low and got behind the oaf, kicking the man in the ass and sending him stumbling forward. With the space cleared, Aegon turned and shoved Blackfyre through the back of Martyn and removed the blade without catching any bone. Blood sprayed against the damp earth as he fell to his knees and Aegon spun the blood streaked blade, eyes on the third who had hold of the maiden’s arm, and back to the prince.

Aegon smiled brightly at him, all teeth and mirth and the feral edge of the dragon beneath his skin. “Shame about Martyn,” he said with a pitying shake of his head. “But at least it’s a first course.”

Above, a great, winged shadow appeared, blotting out the watercolor sun and casting them in momentary dim. The gust of wind from Sunfyre’s wings shook the tree, a few small branches falling to the ground from sudden and turbulent wind.

“Prince Edmund,” the other man’s voice cracked with fear, and his wide, sunken eyes focused upon the forest canopy, hand still clutching his sword and the other dropping from the maiden’s arm. Another shriek filled the sky and the trees filled with the frightened lowing of woodland animals fleeing, the birds shaking the remaining branches as they took off.

“Don’t be frightened,” Aegon laughed, shaking the damp curls back from his forehead. “Sunfyre is just having a little fun before he feasts. We’re both rather famished.” He opened his arms wide, the blood dripping from the dark steel of his blade. The clearing was quiet except for the low wheezing of Marvyn’s death rattles. He looked to the frightened man who was backing away before his gaze traveled back to this prince, taut and tense and gripping his useless sword with both hands. “What was it you were saying about inbred Valyrians abandoned by their beasts? There were four of you, weren’t there?” Aegon looked around again, and there was neither hide nor hair of the fourth companion, who seemed to be the only one with good judgment.

Sunfyre’s cry shook the forest once more. The horses had already fled in fear.

“Just leave,” the maiden said, finally finding her voice as she stumbled to her feet, her eyes like blue fire as she glared at the leader of her assailants. “Leave and take the gift of your life.”

She trembled with fear but her fists were curled into her skirt, her shoulders squared as she stared the man down. Her voice lilted, softly and strangely, neither melodic nor grating, but something altogether new to Aegon. The common tongue was not her mother tongue, and it gave a dulcet quality to her tone that those brutes lacked.

Aegon’s smile broadened, his teeth flashing as he looked at the prince. “Begone, you mud stricken thing.”

The two men fled, leaving the corpse of their friend behind, and Aegon watched their figures disappear into the trees. Sunfyre’s melodic trill echoed above and he chuckled, reaching down to wipe his tunic on the corpse of the man he’d stabbed. No need to stain his own clothes with such inferior blood. Sheathing his blade, Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys, the last Dragonlord of Valyria, straightened before the maiden he’d rescued. He knew she would be in awe of him, perhaps even frightened. That was certainly alright. He would reassure her, comfort her, and promise that he would bring no harm to her.

“My lady,” he said with the utmost courtesy. She stood there, several feet away, her arms wrapped around herself, her brilliant blue eyes wide and wild. There was a gentle, cracking sensation between his ribs as he took her in properly. She was a mess from head to toe, the skirts of her riding clothes soaked and stained. She was slight, shorter than he was, and fear had given her soft features a delicate quality that drew from how pale she was, how stark the blood and dirt looked across her face.

It took everything in him not to just reach for her and lick the blood away from her swollen mouth. To swallow her fearful cries away and replace them with precious little moans. She looked like she would make sweet sounds. The fight had his blood pumping with fever and the thrill of the win only increased the potency. He meant what he said: she was his now. He’d claimed her and sealed it through combat.

“Come,” he said, fingers wrapped around her wrist. Aegon was startled at how fragile the bones felt beneath his touch. He made sure he was gentle with it, not wanting to frighten her further. “We’ll fly back to Dragonstone and you’ll be given all that you desire.” The slap of her little hand against his cheek surprised Aegon more than it hurt, but still he reared back at the sting of it, looking down at the maiden with wide eyes. “I saved you!”

“From men who wanted to steal me to make me a bride against my will! You’re trying to do the same thing!” She yanked at the hold he had on her wrist, but he would not let her go, not now that he had found her.

“I’m not going to make you my bride,” he snapped, bewildered at the very thought of it. “You will be my concubine. Then if you prove yourself, I might wed you.” Bride? What a silly idea these Westerosi had. Not that the idea of tying this girl to him wasn’t appealing. To drag her at the foot of the Dragonmont, to sip wine and taste the blood on her mouth with the blood on his, it was an appealing vision. And it was his own choice, not one where he was sold for his precious dragon and his mother’s clawing attempts to change the succession. If Alicent Hightower wanted him to marry a Westerosi so much, Aegon had found his own choice.

From the furrow on her brow, to the flush that filled her lightly freckled cheeks, it was too late to realize those words would not entice her. A sharp pain radiated from his shin from where she kicked him.

“I will not be your concubine, you stupid dragon whelp.”

“You are precious when so angry,” he giggled with amusement and dodged out of the way of her attempt to rake her nails across his face. Abruptly, he released her, and the girl went stumbling back, breathless. He lifted his hands in surrender before clasping them behind his back. “I won’t touch you-”

“Go raibh maith agat,” she muttered and Aegon blinked.

“Did you sneeze?”

She huffed. “I was saying thank you. I will not have uppity Valyrians accuse me nor my people of being discourteous even as you are high handed.”

Aegon snorted. “It was your Westerosi brethren that sought to kidnap you, if I’m not mistaken.”

Her eyes were nothing short of vivid; such a brilliant, cobalt blue like the endless sky, rimmed red from tears and smudged black from lack of sleep. The softness of her vulnerability at his statement was unmistakable and she did not have a snip or barb for him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and did not meet his gaze. At a loss for words now after she spent so many. Gods, she was a mess. Dirt on her cheek, her soft, molten red hair a mass of curls tied in an unkempt braid. Her wool kirtle was no better, torn along the sleeve and neckline, though it did little to detract from how fine a garment it was—or had been.

The twist of pressure in his chest was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and Aegon did not know where to put it.It snaked through the pulsing arousal through his blood, the aching desire he had for her. “How long have you been out here?” he asked her, voice gentler this time, as if she were a skittish mare.

She desperately looked around, her lower lip trembling before her teeth caught at the ruined flesh. Blood welled up in the wound once more from the broken clot. The desire to lick it rose in him once more. Instead, Aegon tugged his handkerchief from inside his sleeve and handed it to her. The linen was carefully embroidered with golden beetles by Helaena, who’d been bedridden during her last pregnancy.

It hung between them, Aegon’s outstretched hand with the offering. Tear filled eyes met his before flicking down, eyeing his hand with all the wariness of a little rabbit before she whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, just as softly, if a bit ashamed. Aegon looked down at the corpse that still lay near them and he carefully stepped between it and her gaze, gently herding her away from the sight and towards the weirwood grove he’d come from. He let her lead the way, keeping a distance between them, his eyes darting about for either horses or those fools. Sunfyre warbled above them and Aegon knew he was keeping an eye out before the ground shook at the dragon’s landing. The maiden stumbled and Aegon caught her elbow before she could fall.

She did not jerk away from him this time and he did not grab her roughly, the idea of further scaring her making him uncomfortable.

“What is your name?” It was a polite question and one Aegon should have asked her before telling her he was going to carry her off to Dragonstone. No matter; he could make up for it now.

She did not look at him and Aegon noticed how she trembled, likely from the come down after the fight. His own hands were shaking lightly, but he’d been well trained to manage it. He cursed under his breath and looked towards the clearing where Sunfyre landed. There was a cloak in his saddlebag he could give her.

“Abrogail.” Aegon looked at her, dark lashes shading her eyes, her pink tongue darting out enticingly to wet her lips as she dabbed at her mouth. “My name is Abrogail.”

Oh. “That’s… that’s a lovely name. Abrogail.” It even tasted lovely on his tongue. “I’m Aegon. Targaryen. Of House Targaryen.” How foolish he sounded.

Her mouth twitched with a promise of a smile and warmth bloomed in his chest. “I gathered as much… Aegon.” Gods help him, he loved the sound of his name on her tongue. Adjusting his course of action seemed to be working as the tension eased a little in her slim shoulders and her sweet face. The pulse of desire flooded through his veins once more and Aegon exhaled, looking up at the red leaves and white boughs of the weirwoods they had come to. The light was dimming as the clouds grew heavy with moisture and Aegon could smell the oncoming rain; petrichor and ozone and the promising crack of lightning. Could he make it back to Dragonstone to stay the night?

“Are you far from home?” he asked, the words ashen in his mouth. It was the right thing to do, even when all he wanted to do was bundle her up and take her away with him. She was meant to be his now. He had claimed her, won her in combat.

“Not overly far,” she said with a strange tone. Aegon looked down at her. Abrogail’s gaze had darkened, turned inward in her contemplation. “I left for my own reasons… and I find myself without my horse. I am not,” she paused, pushing a finger into his chest with fierce, flashing eyes, a kitten arching her back, “Saying I would come with you as your concubine.” She spat the word out with a wrinkled nose.

Aegon grinned at her, all bright teeth and amusement, a mad sort of giggle spilling from him. “Oh, you’ve made yourself quite clear, my lady. I promise not to make you my concubine, but I can offer you a ride away from here.” ‘To Dragonstone,’ he thought. She was escaping something, she said, and he could provide her anything she could want. All he’d ask for in return was a taste.

Abrogail tilted her head, rosebud mouth pursing in her wariness but the curiosity was easing her features.

Several tastes, perhaps. If she insisted on looking so appetizing.

“Your dragon?” There was a nervousness in her tone, but oh, that curiosity. Aegon nodded and held his hand out to her.

“Come,” he said softly. “You can meet Sunfyre.”

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think! If you're looking for more Aegon and Abby, check out The Maiden and the Drowning Boy! and of course, be sure to check out the other stories being posted for the big bang <3

[honeyedmiller]

Tailgate | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, smut, very little fluff, 8-year age gap. use of y/n (i’m sorry ik lmao). 18+, minors do not interact.

word count: 4.2k

synopsis: your best friend drags you to a tailgate party, and you end up being introduced to one very attractive Miller brother.

-

"Y/n, come on," Y/b/f/n whined at you, nudging your leg with her knee. You were sprawled across the couch in the living room of your shared apartment, and you groaned in protest.

"Why do I have to go? It's too hot to tailgate." Texas summer heat was no joke. You'd much rather be cooped up in your humble abode with the air conditioning on full blast while you mindlessly flipped through the cable channels.

"Because," She points a bright-red manicured finger at you, "You need to have some fun. Plus, I really want you to meet Tommy." Tommy was y/b/f/n's boyfriend of five months, whom you've yet to meet. Guess this would be a good opportunity to do so.

"Fine." You groan, rolling your eyes. You knew you'd give in eventually, but you needed to add the dramatics just for the hell of it. Y/b/f/n squealed in delight, jumping up a couple of times before reaching her arms out to you to drag you up from your lazed position on the couch.

She ushered you to your room so you could change out of your gym shorts and sports bra. You ended up wearing some distressed daisy dukes with a white tank top that buttoned down in the front, leaving the top two buttons undone. You put on your brown leather belt with a gold buckle, slipped on your cowgirl boots, and lazily put your hair in a low style.

You emerged from your room truthfully ready to get this night over with. You weren't much of a party person— anymore, that is. Those wild child party days ended the day you got your college degree.

"Well damn, hot mama," Y/b/f/n called out to you. You tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn't help but crack a smile. "You're missin' just one thing." She places your cowgirl hat on top of your head, and you immediately felt the most country you've ever been since you moved to Austin.

-

You headed to the tailgate, sitting passenger in y/b/f/n's truck. Your feet were kicked up and sticking out of the window, summer breeze whipping through the cab of the truck as you drove down a dirt road. The sun was barely setting even though it was nearing 7 p.m., but you let the warm rays soak into your skin regardless.

The summer heat may've been a bitch, but you couldn't help but love the season regardless. You loved the long days and feeling of freedom.

You pulled up to the tailgate not even ten minutes later, setting sight on quite a few people already here. Country music was blasting through a speaker, multiple trucks parked in a big circle with the tailgates of their trucks facing a bonfire pit that was smack in the middle. Lots of ice chests lay on the ground, and many people already had a beer in their hands. Some were singing along to the song, some were dancing, and some were chatting amongst themselves without a care in the world.

The sight before you made you slightly smile. Y/b/f/n backed her truck up to fit into the circle, next to a black four-door truck with its tailgate already open.

You bring your legs back into the truck as y/b/f/n kills the engine, and you hop out. You help y/b/f/n unload the ice chest from the back of her truck onto the ground, only for her to be greeted by someone right after.

"Babe! There you are," A tall man with slicked back black hair approaches y/b/f/n, giving her a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Tommy, this is y/n, my best friend I've been telling you about. Y/n, this is Tommy." Y/b/f/n introduced you both, and you shake each other's hands.

"Nice to finally meet you." You smile up at him, letting go of his firm grip shortly after you greet him.

"Likewise. Y/b/f/n talks about you all the time, so it's nice to finally put a face to the name," Tommy chuckles, then quickly looks up behind the black truck you were standing by. "'Scuse me just a moment." He puts his cowboy hat back on and walks away.

You raise your eyebrow at y/b/f/n. "Wow, you go girl. He's cute." You laugh, and she nudges you.

"I know, right?" You two had a small fit of laughter, but was cut short when Tommy approached you two once more with someone else by his side.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw the man standing before you. He was tall, muscular, and quite literally one of the most handsome men you've ever laid your eyes on. He was wearing a gray shirt with dark blue jeans and black boots. He had a black cowboy hat atop his head, just like Tommy, except dark brown locks were peaking out of the sides instead of black.

His dark brown eyes seemed gentle and kind, but they were scanning your body just as yours were doing to him. He didn't fail to notice the incredibly short shorts you were wearing that made your legs look like they went on for miles, or the way the setting sun made your skin absolutely glow. You quite literally took his breath away with your beauty.

"Y/n, I'd like you to meet my older brother Joel." Tommy smiled, and a blush swept its way across your cheeks.

Why didn't y/b/f/n tell you Tommy had an insanely gorgeous older brother?

"It's nice to meet you, darlin'." Joel tips his hat down to you, and you muster up the best smile you could. You didn't want to seem too smitten by this beautiful man, but god, how could you not?

"You too." You say almost inaudibly. You felt slightly annoyed with yourself, because no man had ever made you shy like this. Why now? You shook the feeling off for now, not wanting it to ruin your mood.

As the night went on, more people showed and the bonfire started up. Soon enough the sky looked nearly pitch black but the air still carried a small, warm breeze. You were babysitting the beer Tommy had opened for you— not that you didn't like it, but you weren't really in the mood to drink.

You took another swig of the half-full bottle anyhow, figuring you'd at least have the means to finish it... slowly. You were perched up on the back of y/b/f/n's open tailgate, legs swinging back and forth over the edge. Your left arm was extended behind you to hold yourself up.

Y/b/f/n was mingling with Tommy and some of his friends in the distance, and the sight made you smile. You loved seeing her happy.

You heard dirt crunching under heavy boots next to you that pulled you from your thoughts, so you shifted your gaze until you met Joel's eyes. He gave you a lipped half-smile, standing next to you. He had a beer in one of his hands as well, but it didn't seem like he was drunk.

"Hey there, darlin'," He leans against y/b/f/n's truck, eyes never leaving yours. "Why're ya all alone?" The glow of the fire brought out the warmth in Joel's skin tone, illuminating half of his features.

You shrug your shoulders. "Just waitin' for someone like you to keep me company." You teased, earning a deep, guttural chuckle from him.

"Oh yeah? Well I hope I'm good company." He sits onto the tailgate next to you, and you offer him a smile.

"So, you and Tommy are brothers? You two seem like total opposites from what I've seen." You sit straight up, moving one of your legs up to your chest as you take another sip of the now semi-warm beer. You grimace at the taste, but swallow it anyway.

Joel chuckles softly, "Yeah, we are. I guess it's the true older brother-younger brother dynamic. He's always been the trouble maker and I'm the one that always saves his ass." Joel rolls his eyes, finding his brother's antics to be preposterous at times.

"What, like he hasn't had to drag you off of a few guys you've gotten into fights with?" You challenge, cocking an eyebrow up as you eye him wearily.

"How did you— who told you that?" He was shocked that you even knew that about him, because he sure as hell didn't go around telling people his business like that.

"Tommy's a little drunk, and apparently gets mouthy when he's on a good one," You laugh, nudging Joel in the shoulder. "Besides, I'm just messin' with you. I think that's kinda hot." The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even comprehend what you were saying, and a look of pure desire flashed across Joel's eyes.

His grip got a smidge tighter around the beer bottle he was holding, but you were too busy having the most naughty thoughts about the man sitting inches from you to notice. You felt your panties dampen at the way he looked at you, and just couldn't help but imagine what you two were capable of if you were left alone with each other.

"Okay then, what about you little miss innocent?" He tilts his head, his eyes giving your body a once-over.

"Who said I was innocent?" Your words suddenly brewed something deep inside you, and Joel's stare on you wasn't helping. It made you want to squirm.

"Are you not?" Joel provoked, moving noticeably closer to you. His left knee was touching your right one now, and the tension grew so thick in the moment that you felt like you could choke any second.

It was so fucking hard to breathe.

"Wouldn't you love to find out." You leaned in to him, your faces dangerously close. A couple inches more and you'd be kissing the man.

"Yeah," Joel was almost breathless, "I would." You looked around after he responded, noticing a house only a couple hundred feet away.

You nodded your head to the nice home, "Who's house?" You looked back at Joel, biting your lip.

If there was one thing about you, is that you loved to prove people wrong. You made damn sure Joel was no longer unbeknownst to that by the end of the night.

"Mine and Tommy's." He answers after a few seconds, and you smile devilishly.

"Perfect. I'd love to see your room, if you'll have me." You peered up at him innocently, trying to play the part of the version of you he had in his head.

He immediately hopped off the tailgate and held out his hand for you to take, which you graciously did. Once your boots touched the dirt beneath you, Joel was practically dragging you to the house. He'd truly never wanted anyone as bad as you before, and playing it cool clearly wasn't an option in his books.

He wanted to make it known.

As soon as you step inside the house, you sigh in relief as the cool air hits your skin. You look around a bit, liking how the house actually looks lived in. It was cozy, and definitely felt like a home.

"C'mon darlin'," Joel coaxed, jerking his head in the direction of the staircase. "Bedroom's upstairs." He let you lead, and on the way up, you catch a glimpse of a picture with Joel and a young girl in it. He saw you looking, and spoke before you even thought to ask.

"That's my daughter Sarah." He says, and you look back at him. You smile softly, looking back at the picture.

"She's beautiful." You tell him, and he grins before you keep walking up to the top step.

"She's not here right now, is she?" You ask him, causing him to suppress a laugh. You would definitely not want to do what you wanted with this man if his sweet daughter was under the same roof. No freakin' way.

"No, she's at her grandparents. Got the house to our selves all night." He spins you around and takes your cowgirl hat off of your head so he can dip his face down to be level with yours.

"Tell me, darlin', what do you want to do with such allotted time?" He's so close to you that the proximity between his body and yours starts to make you dizzy.

"I have a few things in mind, cowboy." You flick the brim of his hat, and he pulls you in by the waist so your body is flush against his.

"Oh yeah?" His voice is barely above a whisper, "And what's that?"

You couldn't take the tension anymore, so you finally closed the gap between you two and mashed your lips to his. You've never kissed someone with so much hunger and fervor.

His lips were velvety soft, just as you'd imagined. You moan softly into the kiss, and he moves you back so your back is pressed against his bedroom door. He immediately swipes his tongue on your bottom lip, and you instantly open your mouth, teeth clashing and tongue moving swiftly but in sync.

God, this man is a phenomenal kisser.

"I need that tongue somewhere else, cowboy." You brokenly spoke through the hot kiss, causing him to groan. He reached behind you to find the doorknob as the other arm snaked around your back to hold you steady against him.

He opened the door to his bedroom, walking you backwards to the bed in the middle of the room. Once the back of your knees hit the mattress, Joel broke the kiss and laid you down gently. He put your hat on top of his dresser alongside his, making sure to close and lock his bedroom door before returning back to you. He hovered above you, admiring your figure and your pretty face.

"Damn darlin', the hell you doin' to me?" He whispered mainly to himself, but you heard him perfectly clear. You reached up for his shoulders and brought him on top of you, smashing your lips to his once more. Your hands trailed down his abdomen until you reached the bottom.

He separated himself from you to look down at you, giving you a small reassuring smile before you slowly lifted the gray shirt above his head. You tossed it onto the floor somewhere, hands immediately moving to his belt buckle.

He chuckled at your eagerness, "Slow down there, pretty girl. Lift your arms for me." He coos, brown eyes boring into yours. You do as he asks, and he grabs both your wrists together in one hand, holding them above your head. He goes back down to kiss you then swiftly moves to your neck, the stubble on his jaw slightly tickling you.

Once his tongue made contact with the hot skin on your neck, you knew it was a wrap.

God damn soft spots.

You sigh in pleasure, and Joel takes immediate notice to your neediness becoming more prominent. He separates his lips from your neck, trailing them down to the top of your still-covered breasts. He dips his head down where the two buttons were undone, kissing you there once before nibbling on the area just in the slightest.

You let out a soft moan, unaware of your moving hips. They were trying to find something to move against to create friction. You needed something, anything— but Joel wouldn't let you. Not yet.

He kept kissing down your sternum, making sure his tongue consistently made contact with your trembling, hot skin.

"Joel, please," You sound whiny and begging, which you'd normally hate, but you needed this man so badly it nearly hurt. Your core was dripping at this point, but Joel wasn't done with the teasing just yet.

"Patience, darlin'," He tsks, making you instinctively bite your lip in agony.

He slid your tank top up your stomach with his free hand, finding its way to one of your breasts. He started to massage one, moving his lips lower and lower until he reached the top of your daisy dukes.

He moved his hand from your breast to unbutton the button on your shorts, immediately sliding his hand down the front. He almost hisses at the contact of your slickness.

"You're so wet for me already, baby. Fuck." He tries to keep his composure, but the way you were so needy for him in this moment made him want to lose his mind. But, the smidge of patience he had left in him overcame his rational senses, making sure to take his time with you.

He used his middle finger to move up and down your heat, and you started to roll your hips into his touch to cause friction.

"Needy little thing, aren't ya?" He chuckled, moving his finger down so it slowly entered you. You gasped, moaning at the newness of the feeling before he started to move his finger in and out of you, making sure to curl it just the tiniest bit.

Just this action alone had you writhing beneath him uncontrollably.

"Joel, fuck, please," You pleaded, "I need your mouth on me." He looked up at your pretty face, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes clamped shut.

He pulled his finger out of you, slick and warm. "Open your mouth." He says, and you once again do as he asks. How submissive of you.

He puts his finger into your mouth and you immediately suck on his finger, tongue swirling around the whole thing until he pulls it from you. Your hands were still being held above your head, but in all honesty, you enjoyed it. It was hot. He was hot.

Joel pulled your tank top up, just enough to cover your eyes. He let go of your wrists, but you didn't dare to move your hands. He slid your shorts off with ease, along with your hot pink panties. Joel smirked at the color choice.

"Open your legs for me, darlin'." Joel was suave with his words, sounding like butter to your ears. Again, you did as he asked, opening your legs for him. All you could see was the light from his bedside lamp, but other than that, not a damn thing. You had no idea where he was exactly, and the thought made your heart palpitate.

"So fuckin' pretty," He murmurs, moving a knuckle up and down your folds, "All for me."

You groan at his praise, suddenly feeling his lips kiss your inner thighs. The kisses were light and feathery, almost ticklish. He moved one hand up to rest on your lower abdomen, spreading his fingers out so it covered most of the area.

His kisses eventually made their way up to your aching heat, and he kissed you not once, not twice, but three times on your dripping core. His mouth was already slick from you, and fuck you tasted so divine to him.

He finally delved his tongue into your folds, flicking his tongue slowly and teasingly. His tongue lapped away at you, moaning into your core. He'd never tasted something so... so... addicting in his life. He would stay down there forever just to devour you if he could.

"Fuck, Joel, that feels so fucking good." You're panting, mind going blank of all other things besides how good this man is making you feel.

His skilled tongue worshipped you like you were a goddess, and in that moment, you were Aphrodite.

He added a finger back into you, pumping at a steady pace while he continued to lap away at you. The sensation became nearly unbearable, and you knew your undoing was short lived.

"Please, don't stop." You pant, and he moaned against you as if to say "message received."

You felt the hot pleasure burn through your core, and once Joel felt your walls clench around his finger, he lightly pressed down on your abdomen. Your orgasm ripped through you violently, screaming his name. He licked the inside of your thighs slowly as you were trying to come down from your high, your body still quivering.

He moved up from between your thighs, uncovering your eyes and taking your tank top off of you completely. You looked up at him, spent and woozy. His mustache and beard were still glistening from your wetness.

You bit your lip as you reached a hand up to his cheek, and you brought his face down to yours so you could kiss him. The kiss was much gentler this time, but tasting yourself on his lips aroused you once again.

"Take off your pants," You whisper, and he lightly smiles at you before standing up straight and removing his bottoms. "Underwear too." You laugh as he gives you a cheeky grin. He takes off his underwear slowly, letting his erection be known to you and your vision. You took in the sight before you, licking your lips before you got on your knees.

"Lay down," You coax him, and without question, he does. You move your body between his thighs, and you grin up at him innocently. You spit into your hand, moving it to his length and you slowly moved your hand up and down. Your thumb ran over his swollen tip a couple of times, hearing him sharply intake a breath.

You peer up at him through your lashes before lowering your head, and he tries to stifle a moan.

"Sweets, if you keep lookin' at me like that, I'm gonna finish quicker than we'd both like." He admits, and you purse your lips before moving your mouth down to his tip. He grabs a handful of your hair and you fix your position, so your ass is perched up but your mouth is at his length.

You start gently swirling your tongue around the tip, taking your sweet time before leaving a soft kiss before you use your tongue to lick all the way down to the base. You repeat yourself a few times before using your lips to glaze down the side, then back to the top before you took him into your mouth.

Your pace was so tantalizingly slow that he started to buck his hips into your mouth. You removed your mouth from him, looking up at him once more.

"Slow down there, cowboy." You smirked as he realized you were using his own words against him, causing him to groan.

"Fuck, y/n, quit teasin' me baby." His grip on your hair gets tighter, and you immediately move your head down again, no hesitation.

You began to move your head at a steady pace, trying to take as much of him in as possible. It was starting to become a wet mess, but neither of you quite frankly gave a damn.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum soon. I don't want to yet." He pulls your head up from him, and your eyes snap up to look at him.

"Let me ride you." You state, blinking at him before he lets go of your hair.

"Oh, absolutely darlin'. Please." He moves you up so you're now hovering over his body, skin hot to the touch. His hands slide down to your hips, positioning you above his length.

"Are you—" He pauses, and you nod.

"Yeah. IUD." You say, and he nods before you slowly sink down on his aching length. Both of you let out simultaneous moans, giving yourself a second to adjust to his length.

"Joel," You purr, resting your hands on his strong chest, "You feel so goddamn good." You start to move forward and backward slowly, rocking your hips. The feeling of him made you want to melt.

"So do you." He's breathless at this point, aching for sweet release. His fingers dig into your hips, coaxing them to move a bit faster. Once you found a good rhythm, Joel raised a hand and smacked your ass, hard.

You let out a loud moan, feeling complete bliss and euphoria in this very moment.

"That's it, baby— right there, darlin', please don't stop." Joel's desperation in his voice brought back that quickly brewing desire deep in the pit of your core, and you felt yourself clench.

That sent Joel absolutely insane.

"Fuck! Oh, god," He moans loudly, thrusting his hips up into you at that point. He wanted that damn release, and that's what he was going to get. "I'm gonna c—" Before he could even finish his sentence, he found that sweet goddamn release. His thrusts came to a slow, but he moved his hand down to your clit and started to move his fingers in circles at a fast pace, and in no time, you were relieved of the ache in your core. You lifted yourself off of him, both of your breaths an erratic mess. He pulled you into him as he kissed the top of your head, trying to steady his breathing.

One thing's for sure, though— Joel knew, he definitely knew— you were definitely not little miss innocent, and he was a goddamn naïve cowboy.

[ambyandony]

heres the limbo fusions with the rest of the vento aureo main protags

Limbo + Mista

Mimbo - any pronouns

"Are u lost bbygrl? :)"

(They give a weird stare if asked for a full name. They only use Mimbo, even though it’s a combination of Limbo’s forename and Mista’s surname.)

most stable Limbo fusion merely by virtue of Mista’s simple ability to just not give a fuck.

GET YOUR GUN OUT OF YOUR CLEAVAGE!

bitch gon step on my fuckin toe bitch with them fuckin cowgirl fuckin boots

VITALLY important that you know that despite being easily mistaken as fem on first glance, Mimbo also has the deepest voice of any Limbo fusion for literally no reason other than it’s funny to me. They also have sideburns

Stand: Mighty Wings - Redirects Signals. Still a colony Stand, looks like tiny little pastel fighter jets!

Limbo + Abbacchio

Lio Adkio - they/them

“Don’t say SHIT about my mascara or my eyeliner.”

“In fact, don’t fucking look at me or I’ll have to kill you or myselves.”

stable only because when Limbo started panicking in the mindspace, Abbacchio simply pointed and snapped at her to CALM THE FUCK DOWN. and she did so immediately.

nicer than Abbacchio. not by that much, though… but weirdly apologetic about it.

the eyeliner doesn’t appear to be due to crying, it seems that it just looks like that.

bazongas?

Stand: Keeping The Faith? Never Too Late? Shawty like a melody-

“rewinds” signals to previous states or connections and/or can do a “replay” of those signals’ succeeded actions (i.e. having a phone replay a prior conversation) Unfortunately, it’s pretty useless in combat.

Limbo + Giorno

Glimbo Giovadkins - she(?)/they/them

“Wouldn’t you like to hear one of my 765 fun facts about aerodynamics, animals or Air Bud?”

“I also have a few facts about botany, blood and birds.”

stable, until they’re not. they’re incredibly calm and delightful, but when they think someone’s mad at them they panic and start excessively apologising.

genuinely the softest cutest sweetest lil bitch you’ve ever seen. also traumatised with a guilty conscience and can flip on a dime in a terrifying way.

shortest Limbo fusion for no clear reason? shorter than both Limbo and Giorno.

Squalo’s worst fear.

sounds pretty much how you would expect.

Stand: Crystal Dolphin - can transform signals into life—by taking the signals out of something, typically disabling it, they can create life like Gold Experience can. The more complex the device, the bigger its potential creation.

Limbo + Buccellati

Bimbo Luno Adkellati - they/them

"...I've lost the conversation. I'm gonna go make pizza!"

Megan Thee Stallion?!

has no idea what’s going on for some reason? always looks a little confused and loses track of conversations very quickly.

very good with kids! practically unable to have a coherent conversation with Abbacchio. They don’t seem too distressed, but they just stop making much sense and seem to confuse themselves.

Stand: When Doves Cry? Perhaps Freewill? Uhm… I don’t know? Maybe it can sort of, ‘zip’ signals together, combining two or more functions into one sent signal? Bruno's ability is just so specific... I can't think of many ideas.

Limbo + Fugo

Fimbo (Pannalimbo Adkigo) - they/them

"STOP TALKING ABOUT FREUD BEFORE I KILL YOU WITH MY FUCKING BRACELETS!!!"

( Note: all currently depicted instances of Fimbo seem to be post-PHF, as Fimbo is almost always seen with the mouth scars hidden by the tattoo.)

enemy of the state. punches fascists. lovecore punk goth. in terms of authority figures they only respect Buccellati and Limbo’s dad.

AuDHD trauma poster child. Short fuse but very friendly until something sets them off and they start screaming and or burst into fucking tears.

Self-love in the sense that the fusionmates care about each other deeply and both sides are trying to look out for the other knowing the other won't look out for themself.

Stand: Cabin Fever - Terrifying deathly virus that, rather than being airborne like Purple Haze, is passed though signal transmission. Fimbo doesn’t know if the virus is the same as Purple Haze, a different strain of it, or something entirely different. It spreads most quickly through vocal communication between two people.

Limbo + Narancia

Nimbus Ghirgins - he/they/she

"tummyache... :("

Libby why does my stomach feel like it’s going to fucking collapse in on itself and why are my knuckles torn? aren’t they supposed to bruise when you punch?

bad relationship with food. Hanahaki disease, what are you doing here? (/ij)

sometimes they find Mista sitting around, sit next to him and fall asleep on him immediately

incredibly bad with emotions and doesn’t even get angry they just get overwhelmed instantly at any presence of significant emotion

Stand: Falling in Love/Hard on the Knees - who the fuck let this kid control CO2 emissions?? They can barely control themselves???

[micro-expressions]

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Western Wear for Women: A Stylish Guide to Rocking the Latest Trends

Western wear for women has evolved into a versatile fashion category that blends classic elements with modern style. Whether you're looking for a chic, laid-back vibe or something bold and edgy, western wear offers a variety of options to suit every personality. From denim to boots, fringes to statement hats, this timeless style keeps reinventing itself, making it a wardrobe staple for women of all ages.

Here’s your guide to nailing western wear, with styling tips, key pieces, and modern trends that will help you create a look that’s both effortlessly cool and fashion-forward.

What Defines Western Wear for Women?

Western wear is inspired by the rugged, pioneering spirit of the American West. Originally practical and functional, it has evolved into a fashion-forward style that fuses country influences with modern trends. Think of cowboy boots, denim jeans, fringed jackets, wide-brim hats, and checked shirts.

Today’s western wear for women blends classic silhouettes with contemporary cuts, allowing women to create looks that are either subtly western or full-on cowgirl chic, depending on the occasion.

Must-Have Western Wear Pieces

To embrace western wear fully, there are a few essential pieces that should find a home in your wardrobe. Here’s a list of must-haves:

Cowboy Boots: No western look is complete without a pair of classic cowboy boots. Opt for a neutral leather pair for everyday wear, or go bold with embellished or colorful designs for a statement look. Cowboy boots instantly elevate any outfit, from casual jeans to feminine dresses.

Denim Everything: Whether it’s jeans, a skirt, or a denim jacket, denim is a staple of western fashion. High-waisted, bootcut, and distressed jeans are perfect for adding a touch of western charm to your look. Don’t be afraid to try a denim-on-denim outfit, such as pairing a jean jacket with jeans for a double dose of western cool.

Fringed Jackets: Fringe is an iconic western element that adds movement and drama to your outfit. A fringed jacket, whether in leather or suede, gives an edgy, cowgirl vibe and looks great when thrown over casual outfits or even paired with a dress.

Plaid or Checked Shirts: The classic plaid or checked shirt is a western wear essential. It’s versatile enough to be worn buttoned up or tied at the waist for a more casual look. Layer it over a tank top or tuck it into high-waisted jeans for an authentic western feel.

Wide-Brim Hats: No western-inspired outfit is complete without a wide-brim hat. A felt or leather cowboy hat can make any look instantly stand out while adding a vintage, rustic touch. Perfect for festivals, casual outings, or just making a bold fashion statement.

Belt with a Statement Buckle: A large, eye-catching belt buckle is an easy way to accessorize and add a western flair to your outfit. Pair it with jeans or a flowy dress to cinch your waist and complete the look.

Modern Western Wear Trends for Women

Western wear has undergone a modern transformation, making it accessible and stylish for everyday fashion. Here are some contemporary takes on western outfits:

Western Boho Fusion: A blend of boho and western aesthetics has become a huge trend. Think flowy, floral maxi dresses paired with cowboy boots, wide-brim hats, and fringe jackets. This fusion creates a laid-back, free-spirited vibe that’s perfect for music festivals or casual weekends.

Denim Dresses and Skirts: Denim is no longer confined to just jeans. Denim dresses and skirts offer a fresh way to incorporate western influences into your wardrobe. Style a denim shirt dress with a leather belt and boots for an effortless yet polished look.

Western-Inspired Accessories: Add western touches to your outfit with accessories like turquoise jewelry, leather belts, and bolo ties. These pieces subtly enhance a modern outfit without being overly themed, allowing you to nod to the western trend while keeping it chic.

Mixing Feminine and Western Elements: Modern western wear allows for a playful mix of feminine and rugged elements. Try pairing a romantic lace top with distressed denim or a flowy skirt with a denim jacket and boots. This juxtaposition creates a balanced, stylish look that’s both flirty and strong.

Edgy Cowgirl: Add a modern twist to western wear by incorporating edgy elements like black leather jackets, studded boots, or sleek silhouettes. This trend is perfect for those who want a more urban and modern take on the traditional cowgirl aesthetic.

Styling Tips for Rocking Western Wear

Western wear is all about balance. Here are some tips to help you style your outfits like a pro:

Start with One Key Piece: If you’re new to western wear, start by incorporating one statement piece into your outfit, such as cowboy boots or a fringed jacket. Pair it with more neutral or modern elements to keep your look grounded and chic.

Layering Is Key: Western outfits often involve layering. Think plaid shirts over t-shirts, denim jackets over dresses, or scarves added to your ensemble for extra texture. Layering adds depth and dimension to your look.

Accessorize Wisely: Western-inspired accessories can make or break your look. A cowboy hat or a statement belt can elevate a simple outfit, but avoid going overboard. Too many western pieces can make the look feel too costumey. Keep it balanced with just one or two statement accessories.

Play with Textures: Incorporate a variety of textures into your outfit, such as denim, leather, suede, and fringe. Mixing these materials will give your outfit a rich, dynamic feel while staying true to western roots.

When to Wear Western Wear

Western wear is versatile and can be styled for various occasions:

Casual Day Out: Pair a plaid shirt with distressed jeans and cowboy boots for a casual, easy-going day out. Add a belt with a statement buckle for extra flair.

Music Festivals: Western wear is a festival favorite. Try a boho-inspired maxi dress with cowboy boots and a fringed jacket for the perfect festival look. Don’t forget your wide-brim hat!

Evening Events: A tailored denim dress or skirt paired with ankle boots and statement jewelry can be a stylish choice for casual evening events. Throw on a leather jacket for an edgy touch.

Work Settings: For a subtle western-inspired work outfit, opt for a chic denim skirt, a tailored blazer, and ankle boots. Keep the look professional by balancing western elements with modern, office-appropriate pieces.

Conclusion:

Western wear for women is a timeless trend that allows for endless creativity and personal expression. Whether you’re fully embracing the cowgirl spirit or just adding a hint of western charm to your everyday outfits, there’s no limit to the ways you can style these classic elements.

From cowboy boots to denim jackets, wide-brim hats to fringed accents, western wear is here to stay, and it’s more stylish than ever. So, saddle up and embrace your inner cowgirl with confidence!

[katelynnmae09]

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