#does this one still kill children? let's find out

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

(via @allpiesforourown. surprising no one, i had too much to say in response)

aaaaaaaaah yeah, binghe’s greatest fear isn’t that he doesn’t deserve sy—he knows he doesn’t. he did what he needed to survive, and he doesn’t regret it (he definitely has never lain awake in the middle of the night thinking about the children at cang qiong he killed. at this point, he’s nearly a god. what are a few children, guilty by association with that damned sect, to a god?) but he knows that someone as wholly good as sy deserves goodness in return. he knows he’s dirtying sy every time sy rests a gentle hand on his shoulder.

his greatest fear isn’t that he doesn’t deserve sy; his greatest fear is that sy will realize binghe doesn’t deserve him. so he does everything in his power to present his best self to shen yuan. he tries to act like the sort of person who deserves all the kindness that sy offers so open-handedly. he shares a few meals with shen yuan every week, more than any of his other wives had ever seen him, save lmy, nyy, and shl. he smiles at sy, and he knows that it’s too sharp but he can’t for the life of him work out how to soften it. he does his best to keep his alpha posturing to a minimum, since sy seems to dislike it.

binghe tries so hard to be the person it seems that shen yuan believes him to be. but at his core, the emperor of the three realms is still that half-feral little boy who has only ever known how to fight. he learned young that holding something gently only left it easily snatched away. all he can do is hold onto sy with his teeth and his claws and pray he doesn’t damage this precious man.

and then one day shen yuan vanishes, and lbh is wrecked. had someone stolen him away? was he harmed? had he finally seen through binghe’s mask and left? he spends hours searching for him, and he finally finds him in the fucking water prison. a stone sinks into binghe’s gut as he watches shen yuan speaking with his brother, holding a cup of warm water for him to drink, listening to what he says. listening.

and binghe isn’t afraid when he sees this. he isn’t afraid, because he conquered the realms, he conquered the abyss when he was still just a boy, he conquered xin mo with his sheer force of will. what is conquering one omega compared to that? to keep sqq from poisoning sy’s mind against him, binghe would do anything.

he reacts harshly to seeing his omega sharing his gentleness with that man. snatches the cup from sy’s hand and pours it over sqq’s head. snarls at sy to leave. demands his omega’s submission when sy tries to refuse. binghe is the alpha of alphas, he is the emperor, and he won’t be challenged by one of the countless omegas in his harem. his hands tremble, his eyes sting, his teeth itch. he should end shen qingqiu right there for daring to fill sy’s mind with poison. who knows what he’s said in the time they were down there? shen yuan walks so softly when he leaves, his steps barely rise above the din of rushing water.

and then he is alone with shen qingqiu, and he aches to take out his anger on something. make sqq suffer for daring to speak to his a-yuan. he raises a trembling hand to strike sqq, just to soothe the burning under his skin, and instead of crying out, sqq lets out an awful creaky wheezing noise. it takes a moment for it to register as laughter. shen qingqiu is laughing, and binghe is nothing but a little boy again, sabotaged by a fake cultivation manual and treated as his peak’s whipping dummy.

he turns to leave, but sqq’s voice is sharp enough to pierce the white noise surrounding them as he spits at lbh’s retreating back, ‘still nothing more than a mindless beast.’

binghe takes a few of his wives back to his chambers, but sends them back only an hour later. for the next few days, no one hears from their emperor.

svsss omegaverse au where only those with profound cultivation ability develop into alphas or omegas. this means both powerful spiritual cultivators and powerful demon lines

under luo binghe’s rule, any alpha or omega in the general populace is brought to bingge’s palace. omega women are added to the harem without question, tho there are a notable few alpha women there as well (shl and lmy).

sy transmigrates into a wandering omega cultivator exploring the world (the world building was the best part of that dumbfuck novel and now he gets to experience it firsthand!!!). his exploration quickly takes him from the few safe remaining human cities and into the wider world.

he’s chased for days by different demon groups until one finally catches him, because junshang’s been hell-bent on finding some particular male omega for the past few months. he’s put out a bounty and everything; whoever brings the right omega gets riches and their choice of one treasure from junshang’s vault.

everyone thinks he’s gonna kill this dude. they assume the omega wronged junshang somehow and he wants revenge. sy is scared absolutely shitless. these guys tie him up in immortal binding cables and beat him up a little bit. by the time they make it to the underground palace, sy looks fuckin rough

and surprisingly, lord luo is not pleased by this. so displeased, in fact, that he cuts the demons down right there in the middle of his reception hall? sy is 100% sure he’s gonna be next and he nearly passes out when bingge approaches. (part of him is screaming because!!!! luo binghe!!! in the flesh!!!!! with an air of power and deadly beauty and strength!!!! the protagonist!!!)

lbg studies sy’s face for a minute, then has servants take him away. he’s bathed (THOROUGHLY!! maybe TOO thoroughly!!! he can wash his own ass!! thank you!!) and styled, and with the cables removed he can finally heal his injuries from being captured.

the next time they meet, lbg seems weirdly angry. his hands are shaking and his face is red, and every time he makes eye contact with sy, he growls and looks sharply away. he’s definitely barely holding back from killing sy!! maybe it’s because sy left the human cities? maybe it’s because he was poking around somewhere off-limits?? sy has no idea what he did.

lbg leads him down down to the water prison, and again sy almost passes out. my mans definitely pukes into the water just from the smell alone. it’s…a gory scene. but what’s most unsettling about it isn’t the emptiness in sqq’s eyes or the desperate grunting that only becomes louder the closer lbg brings sy.

what’s most unsettling is how similar they look. they could be brothers, their family resemblance is powerful. same face shape, same nose, same cheekbones.

and sy gets it then. bingge is done playing with sqq; there’s nothing really left to do to him (though he’s still got his dick…sy was one of the loudest proponents of cutting it off for what he did to ning yingying!) so lbg must be looking for a replacement.

lbg studies them both for a long time, as if cataloguing all the similarities between their faces. the whole time, sy is shaking, trying not to fall over. eventually, lbg must be satisfied, because he looks sy up and down slowly before muttering. ‘you’ll do for now. we can see how you measure up.’

POORLY!!! shen yuan is determined to measure up extremely poorly to that old shizun of lbg’s!! to save his own skin, he’ll be nothing like that asshole!!

thus begins shen yuan’s plan to treat the emperor with such doting, kind respect that he’ll see nothing of sqq in him beyond his unfortunate face!! surely lord luo won’t want to kill someone so kind to him!!

(every measure of shen yuan’s kindness is overwhelming to lbg. after so long he’s found what that other him flaunted in his face. a close relative of his shizun’s, no doubt, (maybe a twin separated at birth?) who became that other binghe’s shizun in that timeline. he’s kind and gentle and so concerned with binghe’s wellbeing in a way…no one has since his mother, so so long ago. that one morning with the other shizun was so sweet, but this—having this omega here in his palace, fussing at him to eat more and dress more warmly when he goes to the north, smiling unrestrained, smelling so impossibly sweet—this is so much better than he could have imagined. luo bingge will convince this shen yuan to be his omega. not as a concubine, but as a proper wife. first wife, maybe. empress, even. whatever it takes to get him to say yes. whatever it takes to keep him.)

[zaine-m]

I like to think that Jayce and Viktor get a happy ending in the other universe too

Jayce feels awful that hextech took a life. Especially seeing powder (who is around the same age he was when him and his mom were saved by hextech) holding her dead sister's body

He says similar things as in the start of the trial but now fully meaning them and never mentions trying to create magic

Vander comes to Jayce's trial and stands up for him, saying he's just a stupid kid with a dream to help people who didn't know what he was doing

"Vi's with her mom now, let Jayce go home to his"

He does still sneak into his lab to attempt suicide but this time Viktor's "am I interrupting?" doesn't do anything, Jayce just turns back around and jumped, not being able to handle the guilt of accidentally taking a life while also realizing his life's work only caused harm

He survives the attempt and wakes up in a hospital bed, paralyzed from the waist down with his mother crying next to him

Viktor comes in a bit later while his mom is out making some food for him

His tone is completely too cold for the situation. Jayce is in complete despair and Viktor refuses to match the mood

He says most of the same stuff about how hextech can change people's lives but Jayce responds "yeah, well so far all it's done is a take the life of an innocent child"

"ehh, she was from the undercity. I grew up there, many children did not live to see adulthood"

"How does that make anything better?"

"Because this has the potential to change that. One explosion? There are toxic fumes and polluted waters slowly killing hundreds of children each year"

"Even if I wanted to I'm banned from the academy and ..." *waves at legs*

"pshh, you think trenchers are supposed to be at the academy and everything I did in my life I did while being disabled"

"Listen, I can't help you"

Viktor leaves Jayce's bracelet by his bed and heads towards the door. Jayce takes one look at it and throw it across the room in anger. "you probably shouldn't throw that", "GET OUT!"

A while later Vander comes to invite Jayce to Vi's memorial at the last drop

Jayce feels so guilty when he first comes into the last drop, everyone is staring at him

He sees Ekko, the kind little kid who had sold him such reasonably prices wares just days before his experiments accidentally killed his friend

Powder just starting going at him when she first sees him, her weak child-who-has-never-punched-before fists do very little damage especially because she's going so fast she doesn't fully pull her hands back

Jayce just lets her at it, crying and apologizing between the blows

Vander comes to pull Powder off of him, "it wasn't his fault, he didn't know how dangerous the materials were" she just looks back and screams at him before going back to her bedroom

Vander takes Jayce on a walk through the undercity to talk,

"Everyone in there knew what I did?"

"huh, no?"

"they were looking at me like I was a monster"

"yeah, that's cause you're dressed like a piltie"

"ohh, ha... I'm so sorry about what happened to Vi"

"It's a shame, but she's with her parents now"

*Jayce looks down, only feeling worse finding out the girl he killed was an orphan*

"You want to know how her parents died?" *they arrive at the bridge* "I thought I could help the undercity, create a better world by fighting for sovereignty. I led us across this bridge and lost so many people in the process, the undercity is still recovering"

"I'm so sorry"

"I was like you, I was young and ambitious and I wanted to help people. But you know what I learned. You don't need to make giant leaps to help the people around you"

On the way back Vander points out all the ways he's helped different people in the undercity, helping them make a business plan, caring for their kids when they were sick, helping them find a community at the last drop

He also points out all the things that could be helped like roofs with holes in them and cliffs that should have railings

"You don't need hextech to help the world, Jayce"

Jayce spends his time between his family's forge doing hammer work and around the undercity working as a handyman, building what he can to help people

Eventually he tracks down Viktor, hoping to find ways to make a more systemic change for things like the dirty water and polluted air

Viktor works on studies surveying the living conditions of those in the undercity and seeing what affects it has on expected lifespan and the likelihood of developing different diseases to present to the council

That along with the more pro-Zaun push that's been happening since Vi's death he gets quite a bit of work done

While he's doing this Jayce does what he can to start implementing changes by making water filters and distributing masks to those in the slump levels

After a few years Jayce petitions to be let back into the academy to help Viktor with his work on a formal level and with outstanding testimonials from many people in the undercity he's let back in

When their work making the undercity safer is done they move onto studying how to treat the various illnesses people in the undercity have suffered from living there

first starting with Viktor's various physical health issues and finding that a lot of his issues come from it never being studied how to use mobility aids and how improper use can put a strain on other parts of your body so he switched to a forearm crutch to help his back

I'm gonna say in this universe Viktor just has severe asthma which they're able to find medicines to treat so he still has issues breathing in a lot of the undercity, he just wears a mask most of the time and keeps his medication with him

Viktor and Jayce end up dating but it happens to slowly that it's hard to realize, they just spend all their time together working on their research and then they get an apartment together because they were both looking for roommates

Jayce stopped looking for people to date after the accident because he was going through a big life change and never got back in the game and Viktor always rejected anyone, saying he was too busy with his studies

Jayce is just physically affectionate in a way where hugging Viktor a lot turns into Viktor sitting on his lap whenever his leg is sore turns into Jayce playing with Viktor's hair when he's bored turns into them cuddling on the couch turns into them cuddling in bed turns into kisses on the forehead when one of them is sick turns into kisses when they're not sick

They're at the last drop one day and Viktor gets up off Jayce's lap to use with washroom and Vander asks Jayce, "so you think you'll propose soon" Jayce almost spits out his food, "what, what do you mean?"

"I mean you've been dating for like what 5 years now. You gotta pop the question sooner or later"

"umm... yeah" wait fuck are we dating, have we been dating for 5 years, what

In bed that night: "Viktor, I... I think I might like you... like romantically. I guess I never thought about it but I was talking to Vander and... and you've been the most important person in my life for the past like 6 years"

"Jayce, I thought we were dating? How are you only realizing this now"

"ohh"

"I called you my partner"

"I thought you meant like research partner"

"we kissed a lot"

"I thought those were like just for comfort... between friends"

*Viktor kisses him passionately but not the most passionately they've kissed before*

"Does that seem like it would be between friends?"

"heh, now that you mention it I guess not"

[xxlady-lunaxx]

on the rare occasion when sanemi’s mental health plummeted and he couldn’t take it, his feet guided him, the ache and the need for numbness coaxing the money over, lifting his hand as he took the sake. he drank and he drank until he was completely unconscious. he awoke with alcohol still strong in his system and, without much thought, he found himself on the way to gyomei’s estate. he often associated the man with something of comfort, although he couldn’t figure out why at the moment. neither could he figure out when he’d arrived, instead staring blankly at the door to gyomei’s house before realizing he had to knock. gyomei opened the door for him and allowed him entry, sensing far more than the sake and gruff greeting sanemi managed. they sat quietly inside after gyomei gave him a cup of water. then, abruptly, sanemi spoke. he was uncharacteristically vulnerable under the anesthesia of alcohol.

“you asked why i don’t talk to genya,” he stated, his eyes unfocused as he stared down at his cup. he took a sip. “didn’t answer, did i?”

gyomei hummed vaguely, not wanting to accidentally set sanemi off. he wasn’t sure how this man was like, once his guard was lowered. “i do not believe you did,” he agreed, though that certain conversation had happened weeks ago. genya was here, actually. he’d been training in the back when sanemi had arrived. undoubtedly, genya must be wondering what was taking so long.

sanemi nodded, downing the rest of his water. he put the cup down. then picked it up, fidgeting with it. his movement was loud in the silence of the room. “considering the circumstances,” he began, “is there really anything else i could do?”

“what do you mean?” gyomei asked, frowning. he heard a door opening, somewhere in the house. genya was getting restless, it seemed. or he was taking a break.

“my only objective for anything is…” sanemi paused, considering this. he started again, discarding his previous words. “most demon slayers objectives are to make sure other people can live normally. even if we can’t. right?”

gyomei made a noise of agreement. sanemi nodded.

“i’m no exception,” he remarked. “but, also, i am. it’s not like i don’t care about other people, but- i don’t ever think about them. when i need to be motivated to stay alive. you know? i do have other people i care about, like iguro or whatever. but he’s not why i’m doing this. i’m not why i’m doing this. nobody’s why i’m doing this.”

there was a lengthy pause. “then who is?” gyomei inquired. he shouldn’t be taking advantage of sanemi’s talkativeness, but he wasn’t the one who needed to hear it. he knew where this was going. genya did not.

sanemi sighed. he tossed his cup in the air, catching it in one hand. “genya. he’s not strong enough for the corps. he’ll survive a couple weeks, but he’s due to die eventually. or get too injured to keep going. i don’t get him. he’s got no reason to keep going, yet he clings onto the pathetic hope that he can do it. he should’ve opted to find some woman to marry. let him have children and make a family and forget all of this happened. if he wants to survive, that’s his best bet,” he said. he seemed to have thought it over many times before. enough so he knew it all, even under the muddled mindset he was sporting. “genya deserves better than to fight mutilated beasts every day. but i can’t kill them all for him. so he just has to leave.”

gyomei let this sink in for a long moment. “i believe,” he began, slowly, “that he wants to by your side.”

“wants?” sanemi scoffed. “he doesn’t know what he wants right now. but i know what he needs. he needs to stop chasing after me. i’m a lost cause. he’s not, yet. so he should take advantage of it before it’s too late. he’s an idiot.”

“i understand where you’re coming from,” gyomei reasoned. “but… you have to consider how he feels about it. does he want a life without his brother? is it really best for him?”

sanemi’s posture sunk, ever so slightly. he was trying to curl into himself. “not like i love the prospect, either,” he mumbled. “it’s just best for him. don’t want nothing more than that.”

gyomei let out a breath. “if you tried talking to him about it-“

before he could finish, sanemi cut in. “don’t be stupid, himejima, he hates me. he wouldn’t listen.”

gyomei was completely taken aback. “what? of course not. quite far from the truth, shinazugawa.” he was confused. “from where did you gain that aspect?”

“where? he hardly listens; won’t leave the corps when i tell him,” sanemi said, full of irritation suddenly.

“because he wants to stay by your side.”

“i don’t want it. i told you. it’s better if he’s not.”

“then explain it,” gyomei insisted. “he believes you’re the one who hates him.”

sanemi snorted, as if that was the most ridiculous thing ever. “that’d be like hating a newborn puppy because it can’t provide for itself. i don’t hate genya. but he has every reason to hate me.”

[front-facing-pokemon]

[gffa]

One thing that caught my attention while watching The Phantom Menace in the theater, a movie I didn't expect to find anything new with after how many times I've seen it and analyzed it, was that Sidious mentions multiple times that he has to change his plans to fit the new circumstances. It got me to thinking about how Palpatine gets credit for his carefully crafted plans, but often times not for how flexible he is in changing them on the fly, especially in time travel fics where someone destroys one of his plans and that's the end of it. Which, I'm not advocating against, I love a good Take That Wrinkled Walnut The Fuck Down However You Gotta Do It fic and I don't want them to change! But in canon Palpatine makes note of things he's not expecting, like:

When Valorum sends the Jedi as ambassadors, it's not part of Sidious' plan: DAULTAY DOFINE: This scheme of yours has failed, Lord Sidious. The blockade is finished. We dare not go against the Jedi. DARTH SIDIOUS: Viceroy, I don't want this stunted slime in my sight again! This turn of events is unfortunate. We must accelerate our plans. Begin landing your troops. NUTE GUNRAY: My lord, is that… legal? DARTH SIDIOUS: I will make it legal. NUTE GUNRAY: And the Jedi? DARTH SIDIOUS: The Chancellor should never have brought them into this. Kill them immediately!

On the Trade Federation ship, after Queen Amidala has disappeared from Naboo, Palpatine originally planned that she would be forced to sign the treaty, and then brings in Maul to deal with this. DARTH SIDIOUS: And Queen Amidala, has she signed the treaty? NUTE GUNRAY: She has disappeared, My Lord. One Naboo cruiser got pat the blockade. DARTH SIDIOUS: I want that treaty signed. NUTE GUNRAY: My Lord, it's impossible to locate the ship. It's out of our range. DARTH SIDIOUS: Not for a Sith. This is my apprentice. Darth Maul. He will find your lost ship.

On Naboo, after Padme allies with the Gungans: NUTE GUNRAY: We've sent out patrols. We've already located their starship in the swamp....It won't be long, My Lord. DARTH SIDIOUS: This is an unexpected move for her. It's too aggressive. Lord Maul, be mindful. MAUL: Yes, my Master. DARTH SIDIOUS: Be patient... Let them make the first move.

Palpatine's plans aren't static, they adapt and change with the events that happen, just as the other characters react to new information and head in new directions for it, so too does Palpatine and I think it's interesting to note that part of what makes him such a good villain is that he has an outline for what he wants to do, he sets up the dominoes of what he needs, but even when they don't fall precisely into place, he generally gets what he wants. He originally intended that Padme would sign the treaty, the Jedi wouldn't be involved, and that would lead to a vote of No Confidence to oust Valorum, using the sympathy for Naboo as a way to boost himself into the position. But he didn't really need her to sign it and still managed to use the sympathy for Naboo to get elected, it ultimately didn't matter what happened to the planet, so long as it was in danger while he needed it to be, he could use it either way. Nor, honestly, do I think he ever planned for Anakin Skywalker's existence, he had no idea they would find such a boy on Tatooine or how useful he was going to be, that was another way he changed his plans once the opportunity arose. Or a lot of his plots in TCW--he has Cad Bane steal the list of Force-sensitive children and kidnap them, bringing them to Mustafar for some sort of program to use them probably not too unlike how he uses the Inquisitors later. That plan is foiled by the Jedi, the babies are returned to their families, and Sidious' plans fall through, but that doesn't really change the outcome. tl:dr: I don't think Palpatine gets enough credit as a villain whose plans shift and change along with the new events that happen, just as much as the heroes' plans shift and change when new things happen. Yeah, he's a great villain because he creates an impossible trap for people, but also because the thing about him is that he's incredibly charming and charismatic and he knows an opportunity when he sees one, that any one given plan might fall through, but it's not necessary to his overall plot.

[gremlingottoosilly]

How would Monster!König act his his mate had a miscarriage (or something like a miscarriage) with their eggs? Like he goes to check on them one day and they’re curled up in the nest with blood all between their legs and they look sick. I feel like he’d become super protective of them and caring and somehow feel like it was his fault.

CW: Miscarriages Konig isn't too surprised at first - after all, he wouldn't even care about his children if it weren't for his biological need to dump his eggs somewhere. He wouldn't even notice, honestly, his care for the eggs stops the moment he releases them...he does care about you. At least. Somewhat. Kinda. You feel the pain growing somewhere deep in you, you see the blood and discarded, crushed slimy "shells" of eggs slowly moving out of your aching pussy. You cry, you yelp, you beg for the monsters stationed to look after you not to call Konig because you're sure he is going to kill you when he finds out you weren't able to carry his eggs to term - you are terrified of the thought of him dropping you, discarding you like a used toy. Konig is...soft when he finds out. He couldn't care less about the eggs, but he does care that his wife, his favorite little pet, his perfect(not anymore, well) incubator being so stressed out and in so much pain - either real or phantom one. He calls for the human vet as fast as possible, cradling you in his arms while you cry and beg for him to not throw you away, to let you try one more time, to just give you one more chance. It's the first time he actually had to confront his feelings with you verbally - usually, it's enough for him to just give you things or do things for you, without the vulnerability and the horrors of being perceived by his precious little mate. Now, he has to express his feelings for you - he whispers that it's okay, you didn't fail him, you can still be his mate, he will just have to take extra good care of you. He doesn't feel like it's his fault, but he tries his best to be as soft with you as possible, without even calling you mean names for at least two weeks!

[raven-dor]

Hi loves!!

I love your gwayne Hightower fics!

Can I have a request of gwayne x Targaryen reader (reader is rhaenyra’s young sis) where they are married for a while now then blood and cheese happened instead of jaeherys, one of their twins got killed 😔 and they’re both devastated

but still reader loves her sister (of course) and knows it’s not her fault

Thank you !! Sorry for any wrong grammars😅

are you satisfied?

In which gwayne hightower and his wife, rhaenyra targaryen’s sister, experience a great tragedy

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x targaryen!reader

WARNINGS: death, fighting, typical HOTD violence, like three swear words, 'betrayal'

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

AN: gwayne and the reader's children's names are Visenya and Velarion, and the reader is the rider of Silverwing

Gwayne always loved the fact that his wife’s violet eyes and bright white hair had transferred to their children. He thought his wife was far more comely than he, and he thanked the gods his children hadn’t received his looks. 

(Y/N made him swear to stop saying such things, that he was extremely handsome.) 

He smiled as his wife played hide and seek with their twins, pretending not to see their obvious hiding spots. She was an amazing mother, he told her as often as he could. His own mother had been cold, choosing court life over raising her children on more than one occasion. He had still loved her dearly, but it seemed, as he grew older, that that love was not returned. 

Over time, Gwayne had come to realize that his distaste for King’s Landing stemmed from his mother’s choices. When he had returned for the tourney celebrating the new heir, Prince Baelon, he found a reason to enjoy its high walls. Princess Y/N was a year younger than her sister, but it seemed as if she was much wiser and more deliberate in her decisions.

Because Y/N had loved King’s Landing, he had pretended to enjoy the place. He couldn’t stand to see the look of disappointment stretch across her beautiful face. 

So when Alicent sent a letter to Gwayne asking him to bring his family to King’s Landing, he couldn’t refuse. But he so wanted to. Y/N sensed his distaste immediately. She knew him too well, he would say.

His wife hadn’t wanted to return to King’s Landing either, her childhood home turned into that of a prison. Bringing their children, she argued, would put their whole family in danger. Gwayne had agreed, but how could he refuse the Dowager Queen? 

Y/N hadn’t supported Ageon’s claim, being very forthcoming with her husband when the topic arose. Gwayne remained stoic, never letting anyone know of his true opinion, not even his dear lady wife. If he had backed Rhaenyra, he reasoned with himself, his family would have been killed, and it wouldn’t have mattered that he was the Queen’s brother. If he told Y/N he supported his nephew, she would surely shun him. Which was almost as horrible as any punishment he could have received. 

Gwayne laughed as his son, Valerion, dashed across the room, hiding behind his father’s legs. The young boy looked up at his father, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell her, Father.” 

Gwayne nodded, looking back to his wife, who was smirking. “Oh where, I wonder, is my little boy?” She looked over at the curtains, ripping it open. “He is such a clever boy, I am sure I will never find him.”

Valerion giggled, and Y/N whipped around, laughing. “What was that?” She looked to her husband. “Did you hear that, my love?” 

Gwayne shook his head, forcing himself to remain stoic. “I believe you are imagining things, my dear.” 

Valerion giggled again. “She’ll never find me.” 

Y/N practically bit her hand. “I keep hearing his voice…” She tiptoed over, jumping behind Gwayne and tickling their son. “I got you!” 

Visenya peeked her head out from under the bed. “Does that mean I win?” 

Gwayne let loose a loud laugh, gripping his stomach. “You are the champion, my dear.” He walked over, grabbing her from her hiding spot and spinning her around. “Bravo.” 

Y/N sighed, hugging Valerion tightly. Their son squirmed, pushing away from his mother. “Mummy please. I’m grown-” Y/N gasped, looking at her son with fake hurt in her eyes. 

“You are too old for embracing your mother now?” She sat him on the floor, pretending to cry. “You are six years old now, I should have known.” 

Valerion glared playfully at his mother. “Don’t cry, Mummy.” 

“I can’t help it.” She giggled. “Soon you’ll be gone and I will never see you again.” 

His eyes widened. “But I don’t want to leave!”

Y/N stopped ‘crying’ and looked down at their son with surprise. “Well, that is good news.” She picked him up, hugging him tightly once more. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I tucked you in then?” 

He shook his head. “Can you tell us a story?” 

Visenya nodded eagerly. “Please Mother.” 

Y/N sighed, like she was contemplating if she was going to tell them a story or not. “Well, if you insist…” 

Gwayne smiled, setting Visenya down. “Be good for your mother, you two.” He walked over, kissing Y/N on the cheek. “Don’t stay up too late, darling.” 

The twins looked repulsed, scrunching their noses. Valerion groaned.“Father…” 

He looked down, smiling warmly. “One day, your children will make the same noises of disgust at you and your wife, Valerion, and I will remind you of this day.” 

Valerion looked disgusted. “I will never marry. I will be free with my dragon, and we will fly across the seven kingdoms.” 

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “If only it were that simple, my sweet boy.” She clapped her hands, ushering the twins out of the room. “Now, time for bed.” 

Visenya yelled. “And a story!” 

Y/N nodded, shutting the door behind her. “And a story.” 

The twins' eyes drooped, but Y/N continued the story, knowing that if she stopped, she would be scolded. “And then Rhaenyra and I boarded our dragons, flew to Dragonstone, and retrieved our brother’s egg from our Uncle.” She smirked. “Your grandfathers were furious.” 

Valerion whispered. “Do you miss your sister, Mother?” 

Y/N nodded, her eyes tearing up at the thought. “Everyday my boy.” She pushed his hair out of his eyes, kissing his forehead gently. “Just as you will miss yours one day.” 

Visenya laughed. “We will never be apart. I will make sure of it.” 

Y/N smiled. “Goodnight children.” She stood up, walking over to her daughter and kissing her forehead. “Sleep well.” 

She took one last look at the pair, almost laughing at the fact that they were already asleep. She blew out their candle, shutting the door gently behind her. She had gotten halfway back to her chambers when a child’s scream echoed through the halls. 

Her blood curdled, and she whipped around racing back towards their chambers. Pulling her dagger out of its sheath, she pushed their doors open, whispering. “Childre-” Her eyes widened, and she glared, gripping her dagger tighter. “Who are you?” 

Two men stood in front of her twin’s beds, rat traps over their shoulders. The taller one turned around and Y/n recognized him immediately as one of the City Watchmen. His eyes widened. “Your Highness.” 

She put on a brave face, but her heart was racing. “What are you doing Sergeant?” 

The man ignored her, hissing at his accomplice. “This is the wrong room. He wouldn’t want her chi-” 

The smaller man interrupted, gesturing back to the Princess. “It’s too late. She’s going to tell.” 

Y/N shook her head, whispering so that her children wouldn’t wake up. “I won’t. Just don’t hurt my children, and I swear I won’t.” 

The small man ignored her, lowering his dagger towards Valerion’s neck. The Sergeant hissed. “That’s not who he wanted.” Reaching his arm out, he pulled the ‘rat catcher’ away from the bed. The ‘rat catcher’ jumped, and his knife fell out of his hand, plunging into her son’s neck.

Y/N gasped, a hand covering her mouth. The room was silent, none of them moving. 

The Sergeant looked panicked. “Your Highness-” 

A tear fell, and she looked up at the pair, whispering. “You are going to pay for that.” 

She walked forward, raising her dagger and plunging it into the murderer’s neck before either of them had the chance to defend themselves. She later would say that it served them right, they carelessly murdered her son, and so she simply returned the favor.  

The Sergeant pushed her away, grabbing his dying accomplice and racing towards the tunnels. She screamed, falling to the floor. Visenya stirred, her eyes opening slowly. “Mummy? What-” 

Y/N wiped away her tears, ripping her daughter out of her bed. She shoved Visenya’s face into her neck, whispering soothingly. As soothingly as she could for just witnessing her son’s murder. ”Go back to sleep my love.” 

Visenya’s eyes fluttered. “What about-” 

“Shh, my dear.” Y/N felt her eyes well up. “Shh.” 

Tucking Visenya in on the couch in their shared chambers, Y/N stalked towards their bedroom, her heart beating against her chest. “Gwayne.” She hissed. He stayed asleep. Anger raced through her veins, how could he sleep through this? She shook him harshly, on the verge of yelling. “Wake up.” 

He grumbled, rolling over. “What is-” His eyes widened, throwing the covers off as he examined his wife. “You are drenched in blood.” 

“Gwayne…” She sobbed, falling to the ground as he watched helplessly. “He’s dead.” 

Gwayne felt worried, and sat beside his wife, rubbing circles into her back. “Who is dead, my love?” 

“Valerion.” She wailed, throwing herself into her arms as more tears streamed down her face. “Valerion!” 

Gwayne’s heart dropped. “What?” 

“They-” 

“Who?” He grabbed his wife’s arms, eyes piercing into hers. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Some rat catcher and a-” She sobbed again. “A City Watchman.” He stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of their room and back toward their children’s chambers. Y/N fought against her husband's hold, still violently sobbing. “No, Gwayne please do not make me go back.” 

He stopped, realizing that she had truly seen everything. “My love, we have to. We need-” He choked on a sob he hadn’t known was forming. “We need to be strong for a little longer.”

Without waiting for her response, he pushed the twins’ doors open, their son lying lifelessly in his bed. He let go of Y/N’s hand, racing over to Valerion’s side. He gently pulled the knife from his son’s chest, pushing his bright white hair out of his eyes. “My boy.” 

Y/N wailed once more. “Valerion, this isn’t funny, you’ve upset your mother.” His throat felt as if it was closing up. “Valerion, wake up right now.” He felt his son’s throat, finally accepting his death when he felt no pulse. He fell back, staring at the bed. “We need to notify someone.” 

“Who?” Y/N cried. “Alicent? My drunken half brother of a king?” 

“Anyone in the Keep, Y/N.” He stared at their son. “How did this happen?” 

She simply shrugged, climbing up off the floor. “I must leave.” 

His head whipped over, staring at his wife in shock. “You are leaving?” 

“I will be back, I swear to you.” 

“Where are you-” 

“Leave it!” She snapped, a rage in her eyes that Gwayne had never seen. He nodded, watching as she walked out of their children’s room and down the hall.

Dragonstone was quiet, Y/N noticed. Of course it was, night still covered its dark walls. She landed Silverwing on the hill above the castle, stalking toward the entrance. “I demand to see my sister.” 

The guard laughed. “And you are-” 

“Y/N.” Rhaenyra stepped out from the shadows. “What are you doing here?” 

“My son has been murdered.” She slapped a hand over her mouth, another sob breaking out. “He’s dead, Rhaenyra.” 

Rhaenyra ushered her sister inside, out of the watchful eyes of her family and advisors. Rhaenyra closed her chamber doors, and sat her sister down, kneeling in front of her. “What do you mean-” 

“My son has been murdered. That is what I mean.” She glared at the older woman. “Did you-” 

“Seven hells, Y/N. Of course not.” She took Y/N’s hands in hers. “Do you really think that I would order the death of a child, let alone my sweet nephew?” 

“I just-” Y/N sighed. “I had to make sure.” Taking one last look at her dear sister, she stood, nodding. “I will see myself out.” 

Rhaneyra watched as her sister glided across the room. Just as the door opened, she cried out. “I miss you.” 

Y/N smiled. “I miss you too.” She’d almost reached the exit of the castle when she felt eyes following her every step. “Iēdrosa hiding isse se shadows, nyke ūndegon. (Still hiding in the shadows, I see.)” 

He stepped out, his face taking in the sight of his ‘traitorous’ niece. “Iēdrosa married naejot se hightower orvorta, nyke ūndegon. (Still married to the Hightower cunt, I see.)” 

She held her head up high, glaring at her uncle. “I’ll have you know that cunt is a good man. A better man than you will ever be.” Guilt flashed across his face, but she continued. “I don’t appreciate your insinuation that I support the usurper that is my half brother, and if you repeat that mistake again, you will have more than my words attacking you.” She nodded, walking past him. “Goodbye, Daemon.” 

Visenya had been wailing for days. Wailing over the death of her brother, and wailing over the fact that neither of her parents could look at her without tearing up. The couple sat beside each other at dinner, scarcely eating or speaking. Alicent sighed. “It does your daughter no good if you die of hunger.” 

Y/N looked up from her plate, tilting her head, hoping she had just misheard. “What did you just-” 

Gwayne grabbed her hand tightly under the table, signaling to not pick a fight. “Quite right, sister.”

Alicent smiled. “We are very fortunate.” 

Y/N fought against her impulse to pull her dagger out and commit a massacre. “How so?” 

“That they had the children’s rooms confused.” 

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. She must have been hallucinating. “Excuse me?” 

“I only meant it would have been quite catastrophic if the assassins had found Jaehaerys instead of Velarion.”

Y/N smiled, and she could tell it had unnerved Alicent. “Yes, because my son is much less important than the heir to the throne. Thank the gods it was Velarion instead of Jaehaerys.” 

Gwayne stilled, setting his silverware down. Alicent’s cheeks flushed. “I hope I did not upset you.” 

Y/N laughed, so loudly that the whole room stopped talking, staring at the woman drowning in her grief. “Of course not. You began upsetting me twenty years ago.” 

Aegon smiled drunkenly. “Sister-” 

“You are no brother of mine, Aegon. So do not start acting it because of this little spat.” She pushed her chair out, making an announcement. “We will be leaving at first light. This has been, by far, the worst encounter I have ever had with King’s Landing.” 

Gwayne raced after his wife, not even bothering to say goodbye to his family. “Y/N-” 

“I cannot believe you.”

“What?” 

“You just sat there, Gwayne.” She seethed, practically running down the halls. “Our son is dead, and you sat there and let your sister act as if it was a minor loss. An accident.” 

“My love-” 

“Don’t!” She snapped. “I am taking Visenya, and we are going to Dragonstone.” She stopped outside their chambers, whispering so that their guards would not hear. “I do not care where you go, but I do not wish to ever see your face again.” 

He sighed, walking into their room after her. “Y/N-”

“Gwayne, that is the end of our discussion-”

“No it is not!” He yelled. “I am grieving as well. You do not get to pretend I am not.” 

“Then show it!” She yelled back. “You have been silent for days. You do not defend me at dinner, you do not defend me at all. You sit there like you are dead yourself.” She scoffed. “You might as well be.” 

Gwayne was practically glowering. “Do not say things you do not mean, wife.” 

“I will say-” 

“Mummy?” The couple looked down, realizing they had just fought loudly in front of their daughter. Y/N crouched down, opening her arms. 

“Come here, my love.” 

Visenya faltered, and Gwayne watched as Y/N cracked, standing up. She barely spared a glance at Gwayne. “I will be sleeping in my own chambers tonight.” 

He shook his head. “No.”

She scoffed. “I didn’t realize you controlled me, my lord.” 

He widened his eyes, gesturing down to their daughter who was watching with wide watery eyes. “Y/N, do me this one kindness.” 

“Gwayne, I need to be alone.” She stepped back, walking towards her secret exit when his hand wrapped gently around her wrist, pulling her back. His breath hit her neck as he whispered. “Sleep in our bed. I will stand watch, and we will leave at first light for Dragonstone.” She turned around, her eyes wide. He looked determined, and in that moment, Y/N understood that he would do anything to keep them together. Her heart skipped as he bore his soul to hers, his voice heavy.  “I will not have my family thrown into chaos and ruin.” 

Her eyes were teary as she whispered. “Thank you.” 

He nodded. “Go to bed.” He turned back to their daughter, carrying her over to her makeshift bed. Visenya’s sweet voice could be heard whispering to her father. “Did I upset Mummy?” 

“No my dear.” He kissed her head gently. “Your mother is hurting, as am I. Never forget that we love you dearly.” He tucked her back into bed. “Sleep tight, little one.” 

It had been surprisingly easy to escape the Red Keep. Y/N gathered it was because they did not think anyone would want to leave, which made her laugh. Who would want to be held captive in such a place?

Gwayne never understood how Targaryen’s flew dragons like it was as simple as riding a horse. Being this high up horrified him, but his wife and daughter enjoyed it immensely. Visenya giggled as she reached out, grabbing a cloud with her bare hands. “Father, open your eyes!” 

Y/N laughed. “Your father is frightened, dear.” 

Gwayne scoffed. “I am not. I’m simply-” 

“Scared!” Visenya laughed. “I thought knights were supposed to be brave, Father.” 

Gwayne gasped, clutching his heart as he forced his eyes open. “Are you calling me a coward, young lady?” 

Y/N smiled, forgetting for a moment that their family had been torn apart only four days ago. “Hang on.” 

“Hang on?” Gwayne questioned. “Why-” 

Silverwing dove, and Gwayne felt the air leave his lungs, clutching onto his wife’s waist. “Seven Hells!” 

Y/N laughed, her hair flying in the wind. “Enjoy it, my love!” The great dragon landed roughly on the same hill she had visited days before. Helping down Visenya, she smirked as her husband clambered off of her dragon’s back. “Careful, Gwayne.” 

“I am-” His leg caught on the saddle, and he fell backwards, causing his two silver haired beauties to burst into tears. “Do not laugh.” 

“It is quite difficult.” Y/N’s violet eyes glittered in the sun. “Come down, we have much to do.” 

Y/N held Visenya close to her as they approached her sister and her family. Gwayne trailed behind the two, looking around the room skeptically. Rhaenyra sat tall on her throne. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, sister?” 

Y/N bowed deeply. “Your Grace, we come to swear allegiance to you, and ask that you allow us to stay with you on Dragonstone.” 

Daemon laughed. “And why would we-” 

With one look, Rhaneyra shut Daemon. “That is not necessary, Y/N.” She stood up, embracing her sister tightly. The elder sister looked down, waving at the young girl. “Hello, little one.” 

Visenya smiled shyly, clinging to her mother’s form. Y/N laughed, whispering. “Visenya, this is your Aunt Rhaenyra. Say hello.” 

Rhaenyra laughed. “Hello, Visenya. You are the spitting image of your mother.” 

The young girl blushed, smiling. “Thank you.” 

“Mother, what is the meaning of-” A tall, dark-haired young man sauntered in. “Y/N!” He rushed over, hugging her tightly. “How-” 

“I was most tired of the 'hospitality' of King’s Landing.” She smirked. “If one could call it that." She stepped back, taking in her grown nephew. "My, you have grown. Last I saw you, you were half your height.” 

He scoffed, glaring playfully. “Yes, well…” 

Rhaenyra clapped her hands. “Let us show you to your rooms.” She put her arm through her sisters. “You must be exhausted.” 

“One moment.” Daemon’s voice rang through the throne room. “What about her traitorous husband?” 

“Daemon-” 

Y/N glared. “What did I tell you would happen if you said that again?” 

Daemon laughed. “I would like to see you-” 

Gwayne's auburn hair blocked her view of her uncle, standing in between the two. Y/N smiled. Standing in between two angry Targaryens was a recipe for death, and yet there her husband stood, stoic as ever.

“Please.” He turned to the King Consort. “I know that my family has done nothing but hurt yours…” He spared a look to his wife. “But you must understand that my love for your niece has overcome any loyalty I once had to my family.” 

“How can we be sure you will not betray-” 

Gwayne hissed. “They are the reason my son is dead. I will never forgive them.” 

Daemon nodded. “Very well.” 

Gwayne nodded back, turning to his wife. “Let us go rest my love.” He kissed her temple, following after the queen. “I believe we have earned it.”

taglist: @beebeechaos

[annabelle--cane]

this is a difficult thing to have conversations about because it provokes really strong reactions in people for completely valid and understandable reasons, so please feel free to hit da bricks on this post whenever you want, but I do want to try and analyse the jonmartin slaps. we get three across 160, 169, and 172, and a line addressing it in 173, and then it never happens or comes up again. none of them come out of nowhere, and they mostly fly under the radar until 173 because they all broadly fit the "slapping someone out of a trance in an emergency" trope, but each of them slowly decreases in urgency.

the first time, the apocalypse starts up and martin comes back to find a passed out jon, can't wake him by making noise, and strikes him in a panic. this makes sense, this is a man who has entered a supernatural coma before and martin had no idea what was going on, so of course he'd jump to something desperate.

the second time, they're in a burning building, jude arrives while jon is still mid-statement, and when making noise doesn't work martin slaps him out of it. this makes sense, they were there for jude and if jon didn't come back to himself then she likely would have hurt them, though martin knew that her powers against them were limited.

the third time, jon is getting pulled into into a repeating statement instead of coming out on his own like usual, so martin speaks once or twice to try and get his attention, and then slaps him out of it. this... again, it makes sense, jon was getting trapped, but there was no immediate peril like before, martin just got freaked out and wanted to leave quickly. he seems to get that it was harsh because he apologizes for it, but they don't linger at all, martin just starts in on them having to leave immediately.

the last time it's mentioned is when they're on night street, during what is one of their most intense arguments. jon tries to talk about the suffering of the children there for longer than he needs to in order to make a point, martin cuts him off, and he pointedly says, "thank you for not hitting me this time." it never happens or is brought up again.

to our knowledge, jon doesn't say anything about the slapping until 173. he's not a guy who's known for speaking up when things upset him, he was amiably working with daisy within about a week of her trying to kill him, so it makes sense that he would just sit with this comparatively more minor thing. however, I do think it's relevant to note that, at this point in their relationship, martin will sometimes voice his feelings and boundaries (not listening to statements, not consenting to mind reading, worrying when jon expresses discomfort with his body), while jon doesn't. from the couple of times he does talk about his feelings this season, I think that tendency comes a few places: he has a hard time being aware of his emotions at all, he doesn't know how to evaluate his emotions' importance in comparison to others', he assumes his emotions are obvious and thus people already act with full knowledge of them, and the topic is just hard to make himself talk about. from what he says in 173, I think the slaps bothered him the entire time, but he made himself be fine with it until he was upset with martin for unrelated reasons and finally let it out.

as for martin's side, I do not think the slaps came from any kind of suppressed desire to hurt or wield power over jon. we've seen him when he's angry at jon, this isn't how he acts, he gets shouty and indignant but never violent. I'd even go as far as to say he doesn't do it in 173 because he's genuinely upset at jon and the situation they're in, and it would never occur to him to deliberately inflict pain on someone he cares about to assert control over them. the connecting line between all of them is fear from something that he wants jon to help him handle. the apocalypse starts, he is stuck inside one of his worst nightmares, and he's paranoid that the web took control of him. he's someone who is "always following, never leading" (170), and he gets tunnel vision when something scares him and his "leader" isn't there.

jon did need to be pulled out of all three of those situations, and words proved insufficient, and maybe a quick jolt of pain was the only thing that could have worked, but martin doesn't seem to consider what that would feel like from jon's pov. in my experience of relationships, if there's ever an unavoidable emergency where you do actually need to cross a line that you never would otherwise, you talk about it afterwards. you do a debrief where you say "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't see another way, I'll try and be better prepared next time." they do this for problems they have later on (177, 198), but martin doesn't do that here. jon's point-of-view just doesn't seem to occur to him. when jon expresses discomfort, he drops the tactic without a word; later, when he needs to anchor jon in the panopticon, he talks him through it before it can get too far. so, it's not about a lack of care for jon's feelings.

I think it comes down to a few things: a) his occasional tendency to treat people as a means to an ends and not think about their perspective. he's so glued to putting others first most of the time that when he stops, he can't find a middle ground and forgets that other people can have feelings about his actions. b) his problems with conceiving of himself as a person of any importance who is capable of doing anything, especially of doing harm. as a concept, "hurting jon" is the thing he would least like to do in the whole world, it is his nightmare scenario and literally the culminating moment of his tragedy. he finds it almost unthinkable, so the idea that he does it casually when he's scared doesn't cross his mind. one of his central worries at this point is that jon is now so powerful that he no longer needs martin, how could he hurt someone like that? he's not anywhere near a comparable level of importance, it's not like he has his own domain that he's not aware of because jon told him about it and he immediately rejected the information. he's powerless and could never bring himself to hurt the man he loves.

I just. think it's an interesting microcosm of some of the lows of their relationship. once the problem is discovered martin instantly takes the note and doesn't put it on jon to explain himself further or assuage his guilt, they are willing and able to adapt, but it still comes from some of their bedrock flaws. martin doesn't understand that he can hurt people, and jon has such an inflated understanding of his capacity to hurt people that it sabotages his self-worth and his ability to respond to pain and displeasure.

[queers-gambit]

Bait and Switch

prompt: ( requested ) Adar knows you by surname and reputation, but makes a fatal mistake: underestimating the mutual desire to reunite with your husband.

pairing: Elrond x female!wife!reader -> hair color specified reader that does not specify race

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 7.7k+

note: did i steal the Targaryen hair color? "obviously," - Severus Snape. but don't let HOTD's wigs fool you - this hair color is NOT indicative of race.

warnings: reader insert for the haters, spoilers, cursing, angst, hurt and comfort, fuck tone of ellipsis 'cause Adar talks slow. POW!Reader (prisoner of war), violence, blood, injury, depiction of medical phenomenon (cauterization), slight gore (Reader bites off an Orc finger). healthy family dynamics, embedded Aragorn quote, Middle-earth fire is hotter than reality so JUST. roll. with. it. okay? okay. also, this requires a lot of imagination 'cause author invents really random lore but have fun with it. not edited, author can't see straight so what the fuck is this?

incarnate: embody or represent (a diety or spirit) in human form

"We found an Elf still alive, Lord Father!"

Adar watched lazily as one of his children stood over a body covered by toxic volcanic ash; twitching as it regained consciousness. "Kill it," he answered simply. The Orc snarled in pleasure and bent to grab the Elf's head; gripping their hair aggressively, yanking their head up - possibly snapping the Elf's spine - and lifted his blade in the air. However, the clump of hair was familiar and suddenly, Adar was barking, "Wait!"

Not many Elves had this particular hair color. It was dyed from soot and ash, but he could recognize the bright, platinum white-blonde hair. While some Elves were extremely fair yellow-blonde, this was white - like the purest of snows. And Adar only knew this trait belonged to one single bloodline.

The Incarnated, a single brood blessed by the Valar to give them unnatural strength and skill in battle. They were impressive, formidable foes; and typically, never lost a fight, battle, or war. They were absolutely brutish, almost impossible to kill, yet humble, generous, and kind.

Their aim always found the bullseye. Broadswords able to sever bone. Morality skewed more positive than simple neutrality. Silver tongues sharpened to prick the ears that listen.

However, it should be noted that even the Incarnated cannot withstand against the eruption of a volcano.

The Orc snarled with confusion now, hissing through his bloody teeth but not lowering the Elf. Adar strolled over, glaring at their captive, but slowly lowering himself to a squat as the Orc presented his finding. Adar's eyes squinted, reaching out and musing the trademark locks out of the Elf's face; smirking as he caressed her cheek free of ash.

He growled your name, sight still hazy from the eruption of what will later be known as Mount Doom - yet could still recognize sounds. Slowly, you blinked and tried to focus, groaning as pain in your scalp burned and prickled; spine bowed from the horribly painful position.

"Adar?" You whispered in confusion.

"You remember me."

You scoffed, slurring slightly, "You left quite a lasting impression."

His hand dropped to push hair from your neck and shoulder, revealing a long blemish from his dagger years ago. "And here we meet yet again," Adar chuckled. "Release her," he told his child, who instantly dropped you with a grunt; ash puffing up on impact. "Come," Adar offered his hand as you tried to sit up with trembling limbs, "we've still farther to go."

"Fuck you," you seethed, spitting at him; ready for the pain to end after the displacement and turmoil of your people. You had been with the Númenoreans, along with Commander Galadriel, and this... "King" Halbrand; celebrating victory against Adar's first volley of Orcs when the explosion happened; spewing toxicity into the earth, through the air, and evidently, over the area to distinguish what will be known as Mordor.

"Hm," Adar considered your weak form, chuckling. "Get her up," he commanded, standing, and watching as chains were slapped to your wrists and ankles before being tossed into a bloody, maggot-infested, wood-rotting wagon.

Seemingly eons away, Elrond was being informed of your assumed demise. Your husband refused to believe it, but by the solemn look of the messenger, his greatest companion, Galadriel, he knew there was weighted truth to her words.

"Did you see her?" Elrond asked.

"See her fall? No - "

"Did you even look for her?"

"Of course we did, but it was too dangerous to linger longer than what we'd been there for."

Elrond's head shook, "No. No... I won't believe it - "

"I know it's difficult to accept, but... She's gone, Elrond."

"I would know if my wife is dead," Elrond snarled uncharacteristically. "Believe what you wish, but I know she still lives."

Galadriel knew better than to argue; she, herself, spent years of denial after Sauron murdered her brother, Finrod. So she gave Elrond space to process what he'd learned.

Yet while a circumstantially redeeming quality, Elrond was stubborn and confident in his morals and opinions. So, he refused to believe your life was lost; something in his gut twisted knowingly, assuring you were just misplaced and surely, soon to be home. Elrond knew you had a flair for the dramatic, so, he just prayed this was one of those times - where you wouldn't reappear until the very last second to make an entrance.

Yet Adar took every precaution to ensure you did not escape or could be rescued. He didn't parade you around, he kept you hidden away to prevent gossip from revealing your location. You were constantly left chained to posts by rusting irons, no comfort offered, no reprieve; nothing to pass your annoying suffering a little easier. You were fed just enough to be kept alive, you were allowed to wash yourself with a single cloth every few weeks - but typically with an Orcish audience watching, claiming they're "on duty". You lost use of your tongue after so many months had passed without a single indication aid had been deployed - hope shattered and futile.

You wondered if Elrond knew. You worried he thought you lost to the war. In vain, you prayed he didn't give up on you. However, you were logical and logic screamed at you that nobody would come - there was no point! You would've believed being told someone perished, too, if you heard of such circumstances.

Despite being an Incarnated, you were emotionally drained. Though, it's worth noting that under normal circumstances, you would've NEVER ended up in this position; but because of your vulnerable state and the opportunity was too good to pass up, Adar prided himself on "defeating you". He didn't know that you were beyond patient; waiting, observing, listening, leaning routines and schedules. Any opportunity you identified, you searched for anything that could help you escape; something sharp, small enough to pick the lock of your irons. You were Incarnated - your will to survive (even out of pure spite) rivaled that of any enemy.

Camp to camp, you were moved. Day by day, you lost a little more sanity. Nights grew cold, days short.

You were surprised when a pair of Orcs lumbered into "your" room, unlocking you from the post but keeping the chains on your wrists in place. They yanked you behind them, shoved you into Adar's tented shelter then forced you to your knees before the food-filled banquet table.

"And of course, there's her," Adar waved at you lazily, smirking when his newest prisoner of war sat forward with a gobsmacked expression.

She whispered your name, head snapping up to find your companion, Commander Galadriel, sat at the opposite head of the table to Adar. You smiled slightly and whispered her name softly, aware of your appearance and how straggly, despondent, and wary you must look.

"What is the meaning of this?" Galadriel demanded, the emotion in her thick voice making it crack.

"We found her," Adar smirked, "after you and your people abandoned her."

"We did not - "

"She's been... An honored guest of ours," Adar cut Galadriel off. "Her hair - it's a rare trait, I knew who she was when she was found. Figured she could truly help... Turn the tides in this war."

"You do not know what you've done," Galadriel breathed. "If her kin knew you held her, they would raze your camp into the dirt and return your children to darkness."

"You think... I do not understand the risks of holding an Incarnated? I have faced them before, known their wrath... But against Sauron, it was a necessary risk to take."

"Why?"

"You must see," Adar explained, "that it is not His lies which must be extinguished. It. Is. Him." He paused, revealing, "And I can help you do it." Adar leaned forward in his chair, "I can help you destroy Sauron, and should you value your friend's life, you will let me help you."

"What help could you possibly provide, Orc?" Galadriel spat, now leaned back casually in the chair Adar sat her in.

"Uruk," Adar corrected in Black Speech, standing from his seat to venture towards the side of the room. He stood before a plain wooden box, lifting the lid, and revealing in his hands:

"Morgoth's crown," Galadriel sat up. "I was told - "

"There are many stories of what happened after the Silmarils were pried from its setting," Adar validated. "But I was there when Sauron re-fired it to fit Himself. I was there when He kneeled to be crowned. And I was the one who used its power to slay Him."

Adar set the crown to the table, your stomach growling at the sight and smell of full platters.

"If what you say is true... Why did He return?" Galadriel asked.

"Because I had not yet found you, as I have her," he gestured at you.

"What part are we to play in this?"

"It is said the Three Elven Rings saved your people from fading. Is it true?" When Galadriel didn't answer, Adar nodded at one of his children standing over you; making the Orc bash you in the temple. "Is it true?" Adar repeated over your whimper of pain.

"Yes," Galadriel grit, glaring at the small dribble of fresh blood dripping down the side of your face. She decided red wasn't your color - no matter how much your husband liked seeing you in it.

"Then perhaps... Together, this crown and your Rings would be powerful enough to truly destroy Sauron forever. The Deceiver believes he is still beyond my grasp... But I know he hides in Eregion. And I suspect you know for certain... Halbrand is Sauron... Isn't he?"

You laughed a little, "Halbrand? Sauron? Come off it, you're mistaken. Go on, Commander, tell him - tell him." Galadriel was silent as she was overwhelmed by her memories. "Commander, tell him he's wrong! Halbrand isn't Sauron, tell him he's mistaken!"

Adar mistook the silence as her being defiant, nodding to his son again in permission. So, the Orc swiftly backhanded you with enough force, it literally toppled you backwards with a groan.

"I kept her alive... For you," Adar growled, bearing his teeth at the Elleth. "But I'll execute her at nightfall if you continue down this path of resistance. The fate of that city and your friend now rests on your ability to put aside your pride." Galadriel's teary eyes casted over you, sprawled out on the floor - not finding the use in sitting up to your knees again. "I suggest you find the will to do so... If you can, for everyone's sake." Adar removed the crown from the table and placed it back in its box, Galadriel hissing your name, only receiving a nonverbal thumbs up to indicate you were okay. When the Father of Uruks returned, he clipped matching irons to Galadriel's wrist before snatching up his sword, tossing over his shoulder, "We will speak again. I'll give you until nightfall to decide."

The Orcs filed out of the room after Adar, leaving you on the ground and chained to a spare post. Slowly, you tried to sit up and use the beam as support; grimacing in pain that made your friend question, "Are you hurt?"

"They're not the most merciful lot," you tried to joke with a smirk, but it turned into a wince, "but I've been through worse, I'll be fine. Listen to me, Galadriel," you sniffled, "you can't tell Adar anything. I don't care if he's gutting me, you don't tell him - "

"I would not have your life ended on my account, it would be as if swinging the sword myself!" Galadriel argued with heat.

"Adar is not your ally," you scoffed, "nor are the Orcs - look at what they've done! Continue to do! Do not be so foolish! So blinded, please, I beg you, my friend. If you tell him about Sauron, yes, your enemy might be vanquished, but you could be creating an entirely new and future enemy that all of Middle-earth must endure. My life is not worth that."

"It's worth more."

You smirked, "Don't forget who I am, friend; I am Incarnated, and I will not die easily nor without a fight. Adar will not succeed in my death so easily."

Galadriel shook her head, "If I do not indulge Adar with information I have and you lose your life because of that, Elrond would never forgive me."

You gave a watery smile, sniffling, "How is he?"

The Elf shook her head, "He's... He refuses to accept your fate, operates on a shorter fuse, he's mourning - even if he doesn't acknowledge or believe he is."

"It's not that I don't love you, my friend, but... I'll miss him the most," you let a single tear fall, a wistful smile toying on your lips. "You'll look out for him, won't you? Just... Just don't let him be alone, please. He'll try to push you away, but be patient; he'll need you and I'll rest easier knowing you'll be there."

"I won't do as you ask," Galadriel grit. "Look at you!"

"How can you be so confident that the moment you tell Adar what he wants to know, he won't kill me anyway?"

"Because Adar appears a man of rationality - unlike Sauron - "

You scoffed, "None of them are rational, Galadriel! They have their own agendas - and none of them benefit the likes of us! Don't tell him anything else, I don't care if he's gutting me like a pig, you don't say anything!"

"I can't agree to that," Galadriel shook her head, "I won't, not when there's a chance we can both get out of this alive."

"And if we survive just to witness the eradication of our people!?" Galadriel was silent, bowing her head. With a sigh, you asked, "Where's Nenya?"

"Safe with Elrond."

"Oh?" You chuckled. "How'd that happen? You have to break his finger off to put it on?"

Galadriel gave a breathy chuckle, "He needed a bit of convincing, but with the greater good at stake - he was left no choice."

With a smirk of amusement, you nodded slowly, then requested, "Could you promise me something decently reasonable?"

"I can try."

"If you make it outta here and I don't - "

"Do not say that!"

"Galadriel, just - stop for a moment and listen to me, please. If you get out of here and I do not, tell Elrond what happened. Tell him Adar found me after the volcano erupted, kept me prisoner, and that I tried." Tears brimmed your waterline, "Tell him I tried to escape, to get back to him... But if I don't make it and you do, please, tell him I love him - more than anything. Tell him I'll wait for him on white shores."

"Tell him yourself."

As promised, when night fell, Adar returned. His second in command, Glüg, approached you with a brandished sword and laid it at your neck with a cruel and twisted expression.

"Have you made your decision?" Adar questioned, Galadriel looking between him and the threat to your life. "Choose wisely, or I'll let my children bleed her; right here, right now. Tell me what I've asked."

"Don't tell him shit, Galadriel!" You barked in a last ditch effort, earning a balled-up-armored fist to rock your jaw. You spit a glob of blood to the side, snarling at Glüg, "You hit like like a bitch." He spit on you.

With a huff, Galadriel exposed, "Yes, Halbrand is Sauron. He's in Eregion to craft Rings that will allow Him to dominate my kind... And yours."

"Every kind in Middle-earth," Adar corrected.

Quickly, Galadriel rushed, "But He will not attempt escape until His task is complete. And that gives us a momentary advantage."

"'Us'?" The Father repeated.

"Unlock me."

"Galadriel! Think for a second!" You snapped, but Glüg pressed his blade deeper into your throat. You seethed, frustrated and angry tears turning suffocating. Adar approached your friend, eyes trained on her, causing the Elleth to look away in discomfort as Adar undid the iron cuff on Galadriel's wrist.

"As we speak, Y/N's husband, Elrond, hastens from Lindon with an army of Elves..." She boldly looked at Adar, you struggling against the blade at the sound of Elrond's name, "And Nenya, my Ring."

"Galadriel! Stop, don't say another word! Silence yourself!" You begged, whimpering shrilly when blood flowed from Glüg's disgustingly dirty blade.

"I see," Adar turned from the Elf.

You were ignored and Galadriel rose from her seat, following Adar while continuing, "Once he arrives, he will seal off the city, loose Celebrimbor from Sauron's grasp, and then together... Uruk, you and I will eradicate all trace of Sauron from this world. Never to return."

"And what then?" Adar questioned.

"Any Ring that have known his touch must be destroyed."

"I meant, what then for the Uruk? Will your High King permit us to return home in peace? Or will he proceed with his plans to invade Mordor? The shadow has not only overcome you, it has overcome all of Elvendom. In the end, your drive to prove your virtue will work right into Sauron's designs."

"You speak lies," Galadriel whispered as if in disbelief. "Hoping I will reveal something."

"You have already revealed everything I hoped you would and more."

You groaned and tossed your head back into the beam; a harsh thump echoing as Adar charged out of the tent with Galadriel and Glüg on his heels.

"Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel struggled in her restraints, unable to stray far from her seat as two Orcs entered the tent and began unclipping your irons. You didn't fight them, rolling your tired eyes as they began dragging you out on your backside. "NO! NO! Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel sobbed, on her feet, trying to follow.

"Remember your promise," you told her, forcing yourself to find contentment that your friend could be the last friendly image your brain would register.

"No, please! Please! You will not profit from her death! I have told you what your Father wanted, now release her! Her death will not profit you, but instead, will bring about your utter ruin! Please! Y/N!"

The Orcs ignored Galadriel's pleas, dragging you from the tent and amongst the snarling, snapping Orcs. Adar stood before a cart big enough for a single prisoner, smirking, giving his children command in Black Speech to load you inside. He watched, telling you, "Galadriel says your husband is on his way with an army. Surely, the sight of his wife might give Commander Elrond pause. The knowledge that you're alive will bring him to my table."

You were strung up by your arms, spread in exposure, tarps thrown over the cage to effectively cut you off from the rest of the world. You felt the cage rattle as you were lugged through mud. You couldn't identify hardly anything... Until a familiar horn bellowed in the short distance, making your chest tighten. While excited by the prospect of a rescue, you loathed the idea of Elrond running head first into a trap.

Your Elven ears picked up on the sound of thundering horse hooves, knowing your people (kin, too) were charging towards Adar's army; who were swiftly gathering in organized ranks. Your cage came to a halt, and a moment later, you flinched when the front-facing tarp was ripped down and the light above Eregion glared down on you. You were greeted with the sight of your husband surging closer on horseback, time seemingly slowing when your eyes locked and he registered who Adar's prisoner was.

You flinched when an Orc pressed the tip of their blade into your already injured neck, reopening a wound to send a single stream of blood steadily flowing.

"Halt!" Elrond called in Sindarin, the entire procession coming to an almost synchronized halt. He sized up the enemy, but kept letting his eyes glaze over you - disbelief coloring his expression. Elrond's horse stamped in place, Adar stepping forward to speak.

"Welcome, Commander Elrond."

"Y/N!" A voice shouted from the army, Elrond's head snapping over in time to see your siblings - three brothers, two sisters - dismounting their horses.

"Wait, wait!" Elrond barked at them, holding a hand up; your siblings halting themselves.

"Wise," Adar taunted, your irons noisily rattling when you tried to adjust your stance.

In Sindarin, you called to your eldest brother, "Do what needs done, do not spare my life for this foolishness! Take them down! Be done with it! Rid us of their filth!"

"I should think... Commander Elrond would like to hear my proposal first," Adar told you casually.

"I think they should put you and children in the dirt!" You spat, earning several snarls, growls, and hisses from the surrounding Orcs.

Elrond encouraged his horse forward, standing in the sunlight highlighting 'no man's land'. He glared at Adar, but asked you, "Are you hurt?"

"Only my ego," you assured.

His eyes flickered over to Adar, then nodded, "I will hear you first."

"You're wasting your time," you told him in Sindarin.

"On you, it's not a waste," he answered stiffly, almost angrily. "I would have her set free for the duration of our parlay."

"But of course," Adar agreed, being carted away at his Blackened command. Due to the tarps hanging over the other 3 sides of your prison, you lost sight of Elrond; forced to blindly follow instruction and behave.

The Elves were not permitted weapons in the Uruk camp.

Elrond dismounted his horse with Vorohil and your eldest brother, Iallion, who insisted on going to gauge your state, in time to watch the Orcs yank you from the cart and drag you into a tent as if your legs were of no use. It was all he needed to know to understand your treatment the past few months you've been 'missing'. His hand clapped Adar's shoulder before the Father of Orcs could pass him by, snarling, "If I come to learn you've been mistreating my wife, I assure you, there will be consequences."

Adar just chuckled and lead the way into his tent. Several Orcs shoved Elrond's shoulder and forced him, his second-in-command, and your brother to follow.

Inside, Elrond noted the walls lined with Orcs, all surrounding their prisoners of war - you and Commander Galadriel. The blonde Elleths were shackled to the same post, both standing, though, you were leaning into the beam for support as it appeared you could not stand on your own. When you noted their arrival, you perked up slightly, but not enough to wash away the worry he felt.

Elrond was offered a seat, just staring down Adar, who began, "The Ring you carry... Show it to me."

Elrond snarled, "Show me the care you've taken of my wife."

"She is perfectly healthy... As you can see. The Ring, Commander..."

Elrond glared for several long minutes, then answered, "A foolish act if I had brought it here."

"You are a courtier," Adar pointed out. "More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword."

"You've never seen me wield either."

"And yet," Adar's head cocked slightly, "I have faced the Incarnated and won. Beside Sauron, there's none alive... Entitled to those rights."

Iallion demanded in a snarl, "How came you by my sister? You say you won against her - where?"

"Didn't win a fucking thing! The bastards found me; facedown in volcanic soot after the battle with the Númenoreans. I told you to keep charging - you should've kept charging," you answered, earning a swift kick to the back of your knee; making it buckle and ram the post.

"Touch her again and I'll slaughter everyone in here," Elrond threatened.

"You so much as twitch - "

"And one of your children shall kill me? My wife? My men? You think I am not aware of that fact, do you honestly think I wouldn't risk life and limb for my wife? Do not. Touch. Her."

Adar just stared at Elrond, then nodded, "Fair enough. Though, if she speaks again... Cut out her tongue."

Elrond, Iallion, and Vorohil all sat forward when Glüg's blade chimed as it was deployed from the sheath; another couple Orcs shuffling and snarling forward to box you in. Your eyes rolled when the same dagger pressed unforgivingly to the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw.

Adar continued, "Sauron is my enemy as much as yours... Give me what I need to defeat Him and let us be rid of Him."

"Is it not you that has done his bidding by laying siege to Eregion?" Elrond countered.

"Eregion has fallen into shadow... It belongs to the Deceiver now, as does every Elf within its walls."

"Not Lord Celebrimbor," your husband tried to refuted, desperate to believe there was still some good left to fight for.

"It was Celebrimbor himself who welcomed Sauron in. You cannot save him... You can...save...them," Adar explained, naturally making Elrond look to you still held at knife point. Galadriel was uncharacteristically silent, chained to the same post, facing one another. "It is an earnest offer... I suggest you take it," punctuated Adar before he rose from his chair. "And leave Sauron to me..."

"Right, 'cause that worked sooo well last time," you scoffed, making every Elven eye widen in surprised shock. "You're the reason He still lives, you're forcing us all to do your bidding and fight against Him!" When an Orc's hand rose in a sudden movement to grip your chin - intending to hold open so Glüg could amputate your tongue - you simply reacted out of panic by erratically whipping your head to the side in time to catch the Orc's hand. His pointer finger landed between your teeth, too slow on the draw; losing the finger to the single, incredible chomp as if a root vegetable.

The Orc screamed in pain, spitting the finger and causing black blood to coat your lips like sadistic make-up.

"Lord Father - "

Adar silenced Glüg with a hand in the air, the injured Orc being escorted from the tent; hissing at you in a way that made you smirk. The Father of Orcs glanced at you, demanding, "Quiet," before slowly moved around the banquet table. He complimented Elrond, "You have the beauty of your foremother, Melian of the Valar. If even a fragment of her wisdom is in your veins... You must know you cannot defeat me in battle. I will outmaneuver you... My forces outfight yours... And you will fall."

"Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black," Elrond stood to meet Adar, "with the blood of your kin."

You smirked slightly, always having faith Elrond would choose responsibility over emotion - something Galadriel was increasingly struggling with and unable to master. Glüg lowered his blade when he heard Elrond's threat - thinking this war was meant to played with strategy, not overwhelming numbers that would discard Orcish life without thought or consideration.

Adar assured, "My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud."

"Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely... Adar?" Elrond questioned, using the Uruk's name as if an insult. "Are they?" He asked the room, letting his eyes bore into those of few Orcs to truly drive his words and plant seeds of doubt.

Adar didn't respond, pausing, then demanding, "You may haggle over Galadriel... But it's the Ring for your wife's life. What is it to be?"

Elrond's eyes locked with yours, noting the way your head shook. He slowly stalked around Adar, his hand unsuspectingly unclipping the decorative detail of his cloak's shoulder broach. His teary gaze lifted to lock with yours, portraying his apology and grief, then turning to Adar, "Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours."

Orcs hissed.

"Very well," Adar accepted, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I suppose not all vows are kept sacred... I will meet you there... With your wife's head on a pike."

Elrond held Adar's attention, relenting, "If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell."

Adar's eyes shifted to Glüg's over Elrond's shoulder, the Orc assuring, "He's unarmed."

Interesting, you mused to yourself, he saw Elrond's broach but doesn't report it? Perhaps this war caused tension among their legion - beginning to question the man they followed.

After Adar's nod, Elrond turned to approach the beam in record break time. "My love," he greeted softly, tears evident and ready to spill. You both just stared at each other, unable to accept or process being within proximity to one another after being apart for so long - and only now, reunited to say goodbye. "Forgive me," Elrond whispered in Sindarin.

"Win," you answered in a matching hushed volume. "And if you don't, meet me on white shores."

He nodded, hand lifted to caress your cheek in disbelief; shuddering at the feel of your flesh. "I've missed you past the point of words, my star," he frowned.

"No more than I you."

You snuggled into his hand, stomach lurching when he leaned forward to press his final kiss to your lips. It wasn't passionate, but something chaste for show only; your chained hands reaching to hold his free one as it was all you could reach. The broach's center was pressed to your palm, your tear streaking through grimy cheeks when he pulled back to rest his forehead on yours. "I love you," he swore.

"I love you, too," you whimpered, bottom lip trembling with emotion as Adar looked to the ground. You wished to say your acting skills were that good to be truly deceptive, but in reality, something in your intuition refused to let you believe you'd survive this.

Hating the look of devastation on your otherwise devastatingly beautiful features, Elrond leaned in again before hushing against your lips, "Be ready."

"Be smart."

Elrond nodded, kissed you one last time before pulling back. Almost as if in pain, he turned, unable to handle being so close so improperly; causing him to snap, "Iallion, Vorohil," who flanked his tail upon their exit of the Uruk tent.

You sniffled, leaning on the beam in exhaustion, still playing into the facade you thought Elrond was trying to silently communicate. You weren't defeated yet; the pin kept in your clenched fist to cause indentations from the star-point design.

Outside, Iallion and Vorohil questioned Elrond's confidence, being told a legion of Dwarves had been summoned to march to Eregion's aid; telling his second to guide the army to the battle while he held the city. Before trotting away, Elrond pulled on his helmet and told the two in Sindarin, "And it starts with the rescue of my wife and decimation of this camp."

You used Elrond's pin to pick Galadriel's lock first, insisting she had to flee before anyone caught you. She tried to refuse, something about loyalty or other, but you all but shoved her away from you and snarled for her to leave you.

"Elrond's near," you reminded her, "I'm not going anywhere."

"He's coming for you," she realized.

"Did you have any doubt?"

She chuckled, "I suppose not."

"Get out of here," you cocked your head, indicating she flee out the tent flap. You focused on your own lock as the sounds of invasion echoed around the camp. Praying Galadriel found a way to disguise herself, you struggled to unlock your irons; hearing someone rush into the tent behind you.

"You!"

An Orc was surging up to you in record time, bloody dagger in hand, twisted snarl curling his lip. You dropped the pin on accident, unable to retrieve it; but having enough mind to wait until the Orc was a foot from you, stepping back, extending your chains. The Orc slashed directly into the weakened metal, severing your bond, but the loss of tension made you flop backwards; rolling over your shoulder and onto your feet.

The Orc, ever graceful, hacked wildly at you; forcing you to go on the defense and dodge his attacks around the tent. Three more Orcs filed in; but however you might argue, luck was on your side for your brother, Iallion, came charging in with your sister, Eliriel.

"Y/N!"

You caught the sword your brother tossed, slashing the offending Orc's head from his shoulders as your siblings disposed of the other three enemies with ease.

Realizing the Orcs were vanquished (for now), you turned to your brother and raced into his embrace. He grunted and caught you, petting the back of your head before releasing and letting you hug your sister.

"Do you need medial aid?" Eliriel asked in worry, pushing hair from your shoulders to expose flesh - checking for any injury or bloody blemish.

"No - "

"Can you fight?"

"The day I answer no, you've permission to put me in the ground yourself," you scoffed, nodding at your brother. "You came back?"

"Elrond's leading the charge, they're razing the camp," Iallion explained, "otherwise he would've come himself."

"Where is he?"

"Come, we can find him," he insisted, eyes raking over you. "Sure you're all right?"

"Never better," you chuckled without humor, intent on holding the horrors you've experienced at the hands of your captors close to your chest. "Now, we gonna stand here and talk or go hunt some Orc?"

"YES!"

The Incarnated swarmed together in a protection fashion around you; a sibling shield, if you would, due to your lack of armor. Individually, the Incarnated were almost impossible to defeat, but together, they rivaled armies; exactly as the Valar intended. However, while fearsome in battle, you were still but a few and the Orcs were a grand-many; almost easily overwhelming any Elf they encountered.

Exactly why you were separated from them.

You faced against four different foes, turning as if dancing steps to something intimate; blade flashing in the sunlight, ringing as it clanged against blackened blades and rusted armor. It was easy to cut off your retreat or direction back to your siblings, forcing you back several yards as the Orcs swiftly closed in.

"Y/N! DUCK!" You heard from behind you; not thinking, just dropping like a sack of potatoes.

Horse hooves passed you, looking up in time to defend against another blade as Elrond engaged the others. You were both fairing decently until a moment of distraction - where an Orc swung his axe into Elrond's chest and knocked him from his horse - leaving an opportunity for your attacker.

With a scream, the Orc's blade sliced your chest in a deep slashing, managing to cut into your neck; blood starting to stream into your torn and tattered prison clothes. You were blinded by stinging pain, whimpering as your non-dominant arm curled across your chest as if gauze to lay over the injury; dominant hand occupied by your sword, defending yourself with weak whimpers.

One final hack made your sword arm collapse into the ground and for the Orc to stomp on your wrist to hold you there. You were pinned. The Orc laughed and sadistically reached down to swipe a grimy finger into your wound, causing you to hiss through teeth, only to lift his finger to his mouth and taste your life force. The sight alone made your stomach lurch, a panicked cry escaping your lips.

Elrond heard the enemy's laugh and lifted his head in time to see it lick your blood; noting your cry and position beneath the Orc. His face steeled into something beyond infuriation. The three Orcs that filled the space between you and he were quickly dispatched, Elrond engaging your attacker - letting you scramble backwards into a tree trunk for a front row viewing.

With a wild swing, Elrond swiped at the Orc; who reached up to grab hold of his helmet, which was freed when Elrond rolled from under him. The Orc swung, blade whistling; catching Elrond's cheek and sending him to the dirt, much to your worry. He glared at the enemy, wiping at his injury as the Orc growled, "I'm gonna spill her guts at your feet, Elf!"

Elrond's eyes flickered to you, taking the threat as credible; swiping the sword away, using a second blade to inflict injury before driving his longsword into the Orc's belly - driving him backwards into the basket of a trebuchet (or catapult). When pinned, Elrond drove his dagger into the Orc's sternum; leering over him in Sindarin, "Die."

Elrond yanked both weapons free and turned for the machine's mechanisms; yanking a rope and setting the trebuchet into motion. "No, no, no, no," the Orc begged when he realized what was happening; lifted off his feet only to be flung with the basket of rocks through the air, over the width of the Glanduin, and into the walls of Eregion.

Your husband wasted no time to drop the rope and turn for you; rushing forward and sliding to his knees beside your bleeding form. "Elrond, oh, my stars," you rushed with a bloody grin, reaching for him with your dominate hand as the other still tried to staunch your injury.

"I knew you weren't gone, I knew it," he breathed, taking your face in hand, "I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry. I should've come sooner - "

"You got here right when you were supposed to," you assured, sniffling. "Have you - Have you seen Galadriel? I set her free, have you seen her?"

"Why was she not with you?"

"I sent her away, I wasn't sure how long I'd take to escape," you trembled, "then Iallion and Eliriel got me out."

"Why didn't you run?"

"I did..."

"No, away from the battle - "

"I ran to find you," you whispered, offering a sad smile. "Oh," you breathed, fingertip ghosting over his cut cheek, "that'll scar."

"It's nothing," he shook his head, "but yours isn't - I have to get you away from here - "

"There's no time," you rushed, "so, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

You swallowed thickly, "Clean your blade, put it in the fire."

Elrond's brows furrowed, glancing over his shoulder to see the trebuchet set ablaze by his men; the Orcs fleeing from the danger, leaving a rare opening. "I don't... Oh," his eyes widened, nodding and rushing to do as you bid. He cleaned his blade on his cloak as he sprinted to the burning machine; sticking his blade in, then returning to your side. "Can you stand?" He asked.

"If you can get me up," you nodded.

"C'mon, love," Elrond whispered, hands under your arms and hoisting you up the bark with a small grunt. "I've got you - "

"Elrond!"

He didn't think, just gripped the blade of his dagger and flung it in a fluid motion over his shoulder where you were staring. The weapon struck an approaching Orc in the throat; gurgling black blood as he went down, but Elrond didn't even bother to watch. He just returned his attention to you, "C'mere, starlight, I've got you."

"Commander!" A different voice shouted, your siblings rushing to the scene. Iallion, as the eldest, gave command to the others, "Circle - circle up! Get around them!" As the Incarnated surrounded you, Elrond was assisting you towards the flames. "Commander, orders, sir?"

"Stand guard," Elrond replied, easing you to your knees. "All right, my love," he paused, checking the blade, "think it's good?"

You nodded, "It's good. Just, uh... Aim, please."

He huffed, "As if I'd miss." He pulled his sword fully from the flames, the thin metal burning bright red; even sizzling subtly. "Ready?"

"Wait, wait," Eliriel bartered, finding a chunk of wood and placing it in your mouth. She lowered to her knees and hooked her arms around yours; restraining them behind your back in a vice. "Okay... Okay, good - do it, do it now, Elrond!" She begged, seeing blood flow a little more freely now that you weren't trying to plug the wound.

When your husband lowered the blade to your injury, you lost consciousness after screaming blood murder until air depleted from your lungs. The flesh was cauterized as cleanly as Elrond could manage, satisfied when he noted no weeping openings.

"Commander! What orders, Commander!?"

Elrond was torn between his wife and his company - but Iallion encouraged, "Go, brother. We'll get her somewhere safe."

With a scoff, Elrond shook his head and carefully pulled the wood from your mouth; gathering you off your sister and into his chest. "Where's safe anymore?" Elrond asked rhetorically in Sindarin, standing with you in his arms.

The camp was in complete disarray, Adar realizing the Elven Calvary had destroyed nearly everything in their path, almost to a barbaric extent. He would've questioned the displayed Elven bravery, but his mind knew better and reminded him he threatened Commander Elrond's wife... No wonder the camp was stamped into the ground.

The sun sank, darkness spread, and Adar listened to report after report, all confirming the Elves were fairing better than expected. Many Uruk lost their lives, more were injured, and the Orcs were encountering outmaneuvers no matter where they attacked.

Adar returned to the tent he left you and Galadriel in... Finding empty irons, no prisoners, and several of his children - dead. There was no confirmation as to who the wounds were from, but considering the swift yet strategically fatal injuries, he assumed the Incarnated had come to your rescue. Death was only graceful when dealt by their hands.

"Perhaps, Lord Father," Glüg reported, "we should sound the retreat. The Commander Elrond is formidable, angry over his wife's injuries..."

"No," Adar refused.

"He slaughtered half the camp to find her!"

"We do not retreat," Adar growled, making his son shy back a step. "Send him in..."

"He will kill our own kind!"

"Send. Him. In. Commander Elrond is on the battlefield, his wife smuggled away - "

"His wife is on the field, Lord Father! Khor saw her," Glüg gestured at his brother, who nodded vigorously at Adar.

"All the more reason... Send him in."

After your wound was cauterized, Elrond managed to find a horse and rush you a safe distance into the woods with Eliriel to guard you. Upon awakening, you were stiff with pain, but infuriated by the obvious delay in consciousness; rolling to your feet and testing the bounds of the near-fatal, scabbing wound.

"You can't go," Eliriel insisted, watching you stretch, "you'll tear open - "

"Adar kept me alive just enough for this moment, I have business to settle with him. I've been on the sidelines too long, sister," you snapped, "and injured or not, I will not leave Eregion to the darkness. There's still a chance - our people still fight. Will you join us? Or shall you turn tail, as our uncle did? Demote yourself?"

Your uncle, another Incarnated, had been a member of the original alliance of Elves against Sauron; one of the first to leave Valinor on a noble quest to Middle-earth. He was one of the reasons your kin had been blessed, but he's also the reason you know what happens if Incarnated refuse their Holy Calling... Facing Morgoth's apprentice was traumatizing beyond belief, your uncle leading alongside Galadriel's brother, Finrod, in many abattle. Yet Sauron's craft was vast, weaseling into your uncle's heart and brain to the point of insanity; so much so, that upon your uncle going AWOL, Finrod was slain in response.

Galadriel never blamed you nor other Incarnated; she blamed only Sauron, rationalizing he was who fucked up your uncle's head so much that the Valar took back their gift. A forfeited Incarnated was gazed upon with utter contempt until driven into exile, and even then, they aren't immediately granted immunity nor entrance into Aman, - or the Undying Lands - but instead, must plead for redemption. Needless to say, your uncle gave your kin quiet a public mess to rectify and it was a grave insult to throw such an accusation at an Incarnated.

"Sister?" You prompted.

From the dirt, Eliriel nodded and reached for your hand; allowing you to heave her onto her feet. "You'll need armor - do not argue!" She snapped with a pointed finger when your mouth opened. "Come."

Eliriel lead you through the woods at a mild pace as to not irritate your injury. Using the darkness to your advantage, you snuck around until happening upon a fallen Elleth who was about your size and body type. Swiftly, you took her armor with a prayer in Sindarin, securing it, then latching on her weapons belt.

"Ready?" You asked, seeing Eliriel nod. "Stay close."

"I'm older than you!"

"Then act like it!" You laughed over your shoulder, sprinting from the treeline and directly towards the fray taking place before Eregion's walls. You snatched a full quiver from a dead Elf, not stopping; plucking up an abandoned bow, still surging; then snatching whatever spent torch-arrows you could, doubly determined.

Blood transformed impacted dirt into a marsh; bodies littering the land, a city on fire, and Death permeating the air. Your sword sang with glee at each blow; injury holding strong, giving you fuller permission to move as you needed. When you raced into battle, you were an entirely different breed; purely animalistic, relying on your senses to cause the most damage. All you could process was you needing to kill.

You happened to be in the right place at the right time because just yards ahead of you, several jagged arrows thumped into your comrade, Rían's, body at varying angles. She swayed and dropped to her knees, revealing ahead of her, a small gaggle of Elves - Elrond included. Rían reached for a torch arrow as you noted the barrel of oil by the Grond and quickly connected the dots.

It was as if the Valar arranged it themself: where one Elf fell, an Incarnated steps up to assume responsibility without hesitation nor prompt. Three additional arrows struck Rían, who fell dead, and there you stood; causing your name to fall from your husband's mouth and for you to spring into action. Without hesitation, you ignite your own arrow, notch it, aim, then release before rushing towards Elrond; seven arrows impalied the place you vacated. "What're you doing here!? It's not safe!" Elrond demanded when you lowered to his level behind a barrier of dirt.

Your arrow found it's mark, catching the entire Grond and surrounding Orcs in a violently gnarly explosion. You smirked at your husband, anchoring him by his neck to place a desperate, messy, slippery kiss to his lips. On retraction, there came a loud, wet smooch sound; you nodding and answering, "Winning a war."

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[redheadspark]

Here (Part Two)

Summary - Azriel stays by his mate's side, not knowing his family is rallying behind him to find out who attempting to kill his mate

Warnings - Mostly Angst

A/N - Part of the Ocean Eyes Series. I posted this as a sequel of Part One, which got insanely reactions! I am so glad you guys liked Part One and I hope you like Part Two!

Part Three Found Here

"What's the plan, Rhys?"

"I'm focusing more on my cousin's health and her life in the balance than dealing with her attacker."

"That's not where my head is,"

"Enlighten me then, Cassian,"

Cassian rolled his shoulders and eyed his High Lord as Rhysand was perched at his desk in his office, the sun setting over the rolling hills outside the River House, and the cooler air was blown onto the office with ease. Cassian leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his head reeling with questions and scenarios that he wanted to figure out immediately. But Rhysand was remaining calm, too calm for the Illyrian Army Commander's liking. He considered the wounded Illryian who was asleep upstairs, his friend's mate, his family. Someone tried to hurt his family and take away his family, and Cassian was fuming from the inside out.

But he was also a changed Illyrian, just as Rhysand and Azriel were. They were all fathers now: Rhysand with Nyx, Azriel with Alec, and Cassian with his daughter Rose. His daughter, sweet and yet fiery Rose was a splitting image of her mother but had his infectious and playful heart. They all had offspring to protect and think about, no more rash decisions and acting out on a limb. The children had to come first, and Cassian was not willing to do anything that would bring his family harm. Azriel never did that himself, yet that led to Alec almost being killed as a toddler and Azriel's mate now in a bed upstairs hanging between life and death. Nesta would never let Cassian do anything like that, not just for Rose but for Nesta too.

Cassian was the one who found you first, sprawled on the forest floor bleeding from your wing and the arrow still hanging out of your wing. You both were out in the outline border of Velaris, Cassian getting a hunch that there were rogue beings there making their way across the border into Velaris territory. You on the other hand were meeting with some of the farmers and shopkeepers that lived in the cottages there to check on them and talk business in contributing to the Community Center.

Maybe it was fate that he was there and come enough to hear your scream out, but he knew your scream far too well from knowing you since you both were younglings. He flew towards the wail you let out, his heart hitting against his chest far too hard and thinking it was a trick of the mind.

Everything slowed down for him as he gathered you in his arms, you were out cold and the poison already working in your blood. He had to act quickly, time was of the essence, and your time was about to be snuffed out if he didn't get you help in time. 

"The marks on the arrow," Cassian stated, reflecting on the arrow that was piercing your wing and sicking out so harshly that it sickened him to rethink it again, "We need to know where they came from so we get a hunch as to who did this,"

"I already have a big hunch, and I got in contact with the very High Lord that I'm thinking," Rhysand hummed, his cooldemeanor was hiding the anger he had. Cassian raised a brow at him as Rhysand rang his thumb over his fingers back and forth, a tactic he would use when he was thinking deeply, "High Lord Beron has been notified and is coming tonight,"

"What?" Cassian asked in shock, standing up stiffly and no longer leaning against the wall. 

"He knows the utmost importance of this since it does involve my cousin…my fucking family," Rhysand said the last part in a low tone, not a growl but close enough, "We are going to meet at the Townhouse since I know both yourself and Nesta would rather not have the High Lord of Autumn Court in your home,"

Cassian snorted, then gave him a questioning look, "Does Elaine and Lucien know what happened?"

"Feyre reached out and told them to stay at their home here in Velaris for the time being. In fact, I don't want any of the Inner Circle going anywhere outside of Velaris until this is resolved once and for all. We either stay in our homes or at The House of Wind until I say so," Rhysand explained as his violet eyes looked out the window to see the last images of the sun still in the sky before it hid into the horizon.

"Is that an order?" Cassian asked, Rhysand’s eyes shot back to his Commander.  Cassian, though tamer than he used to be when he was younger, was still reckless at heart at times. Something inside of him wanted him to find whoever did this and bring them pain. You were family to him, meeting him through Rhysand when he was a boy and considered him a brother of yours. His rational side was teetering to be pushed aside, and he was fine with it.

"I don't want another member of my family hurt, Cass. I consider you family, long before you became my brother-in-law. You need to think of your wife and daughter and that they need you," Rhysand explained to Cassian, seeing Cassian's eyes soften from the mention of Nesta and Rose, "We need to be smart about this, not reckless. I want you with me when we meet with High Lord Beron,"

Cassian hummed, knowing that Rhysand was right when it came to being reckless. He then gestured his head over to the doors that lead out of the office, "What about Azriel?"

"I don't want him anywhere else but with his wife, she's his priority now. And besides, I would rather not leave Azriel alone in the room with High Lord Beron. That's if Beron, or Autumn Court for that matter, did have something to do with this. He is not in the right frame of mind to be anywhere else," 

Cassian knew he was right about that too. The rage Azriel must be feeling at this moment, not knowing who in factharmed and attempted to kill his mate, must have been explosive. Cassian himself has been Azriel in such a way before, the anger that would fester deep down and be unlashed by either his shadows or his Truth Tellers. Cassian and strength behind him, but Azriel had something deeper.

Something more menacing.

"Alec is also staying here until his mother is well again, though he still doesn't know what precisely happened," Rhysand explained as he got up from his chair and walked around the desk to stand near Cassian with his arms folded in front of him, "I don't want Alec anywhere else but here, he's my nephew and he needs to be protected now more than ever. We all do, but epically him: someone is hunting his mother and father, and I won't let him become an orphan under my roof,"

"None of us want that, Rhys," Cassian reasoned with Rhysand, "He's secure and protected here with you and Feyre, and he's safe with his father, the safest he’ll ever be,”

"Which is why we need to be smart. For now, let's just focus on this meeting with Beron and making sure my cousin is comfortable and safe while she heals and come back to full health," Rhysand stated, then pausing as he gave Cassian a more cornered look, "How is Alec and Azriel now?"

"Alec's okay, he just misses his mother. As for Azriel…it's hard for him," Cassian confessed. Rhysand hummed and rubbed his eyes, already thinking of the next steps that were to come. The meeting tonight would be far too important, life-changing, and yet his cousin was still in the back of his mind and her health was his main concern. 

All he could do now was hold onto his Inner Circle, his family, so close in hopes they wouldn't slip away.

"Alright, buddy. Time for bed, okay?"

"Ok, daddy,"

Azriel softly smiled as he watched his son hop into the massive bed he was going to sleep in, the guest room that wasacross from where you were still sleeping and still healing. He left the door slightly open, being able to see you from where he was in Alec's guest room as Alec was settling into his bed. 

Alec was only told that his mother was sick, severely sick, and he was not able to see her.  Of course, it confused him at first, not understanding that he wasn't able to see his own mother since he had seen her sick before, but he knew better than to question his father.  Seeing Azriel looking worn down and defeated made Alec worry all the more. 

But Feyre was a step ahead, making sure he was well fed at dinnertime and kept him busy with his cousin Nyx until it was time for him to go to bed. Still, his mother was in the back of his mind, wondering what was it that made his mother so sick. He missed his mother, hugging her and hearing her voice telling him goodnight. Azriel tried his best to be present with Alec, but his son caught onto something that was hidden from him. 

Perhaps a trait he inherited from his father.

"Alec, I know this is different from what we're used to," Azriel explained to Alec, who was watching his father with his wide blue eyes as he was snuggled under the soft sheets of the bed, "But you are being such a trooper for going with the flow of it all.  I promise you that things are going to go back to normal soon, okay? As soon as momma is all better, we'll go back to our house and things will be back to the way they were,"

"Is it going to be forever?" Alec asked tentatively as he searched his father's tired eyes. Azriel felt a twinge of pain that his son was still kept in the dark, so speak, when it came to what truly happened to his mother. The last thing Azriel ever wanted to do was to lie to his son like this, to have that trust broken at any moment. 

"No, not forever, baby," He reassured Alec as he pushed the inky black hair out of his son's blue eyes, "This is not forever, I swear to you. You believe me?"

"Yes, Daddy," Alec replied, Azriel smiled at his son and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. He was about to leave his son to sleep, and as Azriel eased himself up from the bed, Alec spoke up again in a gentler tone. So gentle, that it sounded like the curtains were swaying in his room from the night breeze.

"Daddy, is momma gonna be okay?"

Azriel could have cried then, seeing his son watch him for an answer. Azriel never wanted this for his family, the fear of losing someone he loved and another person he loved was filled with fear and worry. Alec was only four years old, far too young for something like this to happen in his life. Nothing could prepare him for this: consoling his son and hoping that his wife would pull through. 

Alec needed his mother, Azriel knew that deep down. There was no greater bond than Alec's bond with his mother, it was thick and filled with so much happiness and love. Inwardly, Azriel wanted that himself with his mother, and he did have that in the blink of a moment when he was young.  To see his mate give that same love to his son was beyond rewarding.

Now his son, looking at his father with worry in his young eyes, was asking about his mother.

"Yeah…yeah she's gonna be okay," he reassured Alec. He had to give Alec hope, the hope that his mother would be herself again. Although he had very little hope, he would at least give some of that hope to his son. He leaned down and kissed his son one more time, "Get some sleep, okay? I'm gonna check on momma and come back to you, I love you,"

"I love you too, Daddy," Alec replied, then curled into the bed under the sheets as Azriel moved away. He felt like he needed to be in two places at once: with Alec and with you. Although you were sleeping and till healing, Alec needed you and needed your warmth. Azriel wished he could change it all, make you all better so you can hold your son. Yet as he watched Alec fall asleep, facing the window with a look of peace on his face, Azriel could breathe a bit easier. 

He kept the door into the guest room open slightly, mostly in case Alec needed him as he walked silently across the hall into the room where you were in. Still asleep, facing the empty chair where Azriel was perched for the past few hours, the moon shining into your room to cast a bluish light along your still wounded wings. Azriel could even see the moonlight shine through the thin membrane of your wings, showing the veins and the damage from the Ash Arrow.

But the way you were snuggled against the body pillow, head against the soft pillow, and your long hair draped over your shoulder, you looked more peaceful than you did earlier when Azriel found you. Azriel sat down on the chair, taking in a long breath as he held his hands together in his lap and watched you. Your deep breathing, the softness that was now slowly coming back along your skin and your cheeks thanks to the medicine from Madja. 

"I might be talking to myself here, but I hope you can hear me," Azriel said aloud in the room, his voice sounding a bit raw as he watched you in earnest, "But I need you to pull through and get better. I….I don't think I can do this without you. I won't have the strength to, no matter how hard I'll have to try. I need you, our son needs you. He needs his momma, and I…I don't wanna do this alone and without you."

He might have sounded silly since he was talking alone in the room, but then again he needed to get it off his chest. Bottling up all his fear that he's had for the past few hours, would have suffocated him. The only person he was ever safe to unload his feelings, to be open and exposed therapeutically, was the one who was asleep in front of him and unable to be fully present with him.

"I'm sorry I failed you and couldn't protect you," Azriel admitted, sinking a bit in his chair as he was fiddling with his fingers, Clutching them together tightly and refusing to let them go, "I promised you when we were mated that I would protect you, keep you safe and never let anything happen to you. I broke that promise, and I know I can never repair that,"

He thought that if you were awake, you would reprimand him for being hard on himself. Azriel could even hear it clearly in his mind, your kind voice scolding him for being immensely harsh towards himself. You've always helped him out of his moods and insecurities, including what he does and how he takes care of others around him. Azriel thought back to a talk that he had with you when Alec was still a young infant, he was voicing his worry about taking care of his family and if he was doing enough. 

He needed you to bring him back to the light, and not have him hide in the darkness.

Azriel reached out and took your hands in his own, feeling the coolness of your skin and yet how soft they were. Healways loved your soft hands, a soothing balm against his calloused and scarred skin. He leaned down and kissed the back of your hand, his lips along your skin had you shift in your sleep and hum.

"Sleep and come back to me, come back to us. Your son and I need you more than anything, so I need you to get your strength and open those eyes for me when you're ready. I'm here when you wake up, I promise.  I love you more than life itself, more than my own life, and if I could trade mine for yours then I would in a heartbeat. Just gather your strength, we'll be here waiting for you," Azriel proclaimed to you and your sleeping form.  He did speak the truth: he would trade his life for yours since at times he felt you had more good for the world than he ever did.

Azriel cannot picture a world without you, without any of your beautiful traits or your tender heart. 

Azriel heard it, almost like a whisper, as he was dead asleep with Alec cradled in his arms in the spare guest room.  His arms were tucked around his son, who was snuggled against his father and snoring softly. It was so soft, like a breeze, which didn't disturb the Spymaster at first.

But it was also distinct, not the sound of the curtains fluttering next to the bed or the very soft ticking of the clock on the fireplace mantle.  This was a shutter of a whisper, and it was calling his name.

Azriel…..Azriel….

His shadows hummed, licking along Azriel's arms as he stirred a bit in his sleep. Alec was thankfully a deep sleeper and stayed in slumber, even though his father was feeling the sensation not just with his shadows but in his mind. It was a familiar voice, so familiar that maybe it was a trick of the mind as Azriel took in a long breath. But he heard it again, a pinch louder and his name being called out as if the source was so far away.  Fighting through a fog that was thick and almost recognizable.

Azriel…Azriel…

Azriel was still asleep, but it was becoming more alert as the voice was getting a bit louder now in his mind. It was no longer a dream, it was something else, something familiar to him.  So familiar like coming through the front door of the small little cottage where he lived, or flying amongst the cloud with his wings stretched. Even the familiar touch of your lips against his own made him feel safe.

But he finally heard it, and his eyes shot open on high alert.

Azriel….I'm here…

It was you, your voice, speaking through the bond.

You were awake.

To Be Continued….

A/N - Part three?!?! Let me know if you want a part three!

Tagging - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup @sizzlingstarlightsky @iluvyewman-blog @masbt1218 @a-courtof-azriel @homeslices @zanzie @topaz125

[mullermilkshake]

The last time.

—-Minors DNI—-

Yandere!Satoru Gojo

Tags: Breed kink. Breeding. Kidnapping. Imprisonment. Unprotected sex. Plotting murder. Cream pie.

"Fuck me like it's the last time." That's what you say to Satoru's face after you have everything ready to make your move and run from him.

It's certain that if you stay here, Satoru will trap you in other ways, and you aren't about to let that happen. It's taken meticulous planning to get to this point, earning his trust finally and getting your leash extended enough for wiggle room.

Satoru takes your statement as a challenge, but constantly reinforces the face that you aren't leaving and that this is all role play. He doesn't deny that it is turning him on, going further in gorging himself on his favourite kink.

He needs to breed you.

You aren't sure where it's come from, you don't want to know either. You've been lucky so far, despite his best efforts and bold disappointment when nothing came of it.

Relief.

The last time doing this and the last time seeing his smug face before you disappear and vanish into the night. Satoru won't ever find you, you've made sure of it.

Satoru fucks you. His thrusts are hard and unforgiving, repeating over and over how you'll stay with him, bear his children and somehow be alright with raising them for his legacy he's been pressured to fulfil.

Not a fucking chance.

You let him, taking the chance to think of all the good times you'll have after you leave, but the danger you'll be in to ensure he never finds you.

Satoru Gojo isn't as trusting as he might appear. Time and exhausting effort to throw off this sniffer dogs nose. He never seems wise to it the entire time, how you'll leave him in his bed and fight the urge to slit his throat in his sleep.

After he comes inside you for the very last time, he takes a hold of your wrist and drags you out of the bedroom, throwing you back into that awful closet he had you in when you arrived here.

"C'mon, you really think I don't know? I thought you were intelligent." Is all he says before slamming the door shut with his grin the last thing you see into the darkness.

With his come still leaking between your thighs.

Yandere!Suguru Geto

Tags: Murder. Indoctrination. Choking.

"Fuck me like it's the last time." Suguru hears you loud and clear.

He understands what you are saying, and takes it as literally as possible.

Originally, you hated the idea of being with him after he snatched you up, but he convinced you that his logic was the way forward. that he was the way forward. And eventually, you started to believe it yourself.

Now, you applaud his reasonings, even go as far as to thank him for doing what he does. You aren't sure when it was, but there is a moment in the timeline from when you first met to now, that urges your brain to enjoy it whenever he takes a life.

Almost to the point that it impresses you how he does it with such ease. Though it's most probably due to the fact that it fascinates you. You battled with the guilt for the longest time, shaming yourself against your better judgement until you became numb to it.

Numb. Like now. The last time. Suguru decides the best way to fulfil this request its to lace his slender fingers at your throat, whispering filthy things into your ear to allow the dark spots at your eyes to collect around the outside.

He presses just right, light pressure, enough to hear your gasps of pleasure as you watch all the red on his face, on his open yukata to reveal his bear chest. Yes, he had killed again, but that doesn't deter you to let the bubbling itch in your abdomen grow and grow until you can't take it anymore.

The agonising part is that he fucks you slowly, dreadfully teasing until you come around his cock and he tells you what a good girl you are.

This path isn't one you ever saw yourself walking, but you guess you're in too deep now to ever think about leaving him.

Yandere!Kento Nanami

Tags: Psychological abuse. Spanking. Humiliation.

"Fuck me like it's the last time." It's supposed to be a comment to throw him off, but to be honest, you aren't sure why you said it.

Kento in hyper critical of you all the time. There's a spec of dirt on your face, your hair is out of place, your shirt is crooked, you haven't taken care of your nails. He's always picking up on something wrong.

You fought it originally, but when you realised that you weren't getting anywhere, you stopped. Now, you let him have his say, correct it and go about your day like he doesn't exist.

It's always manners with him. Watch your posture, manage your words and stop using curse words like they command the room. Verbally, you reel it in, though internally, you scream and say every word under the sun. You constantly think of all the ways you want to hurt him, to kill him.

There are many ways to kill a man.

At first, when you asked this of Kento, you assumed he would pick up on the curse word and reprimand you. But he doesn't. He never says a word, he only leads you up to the bedroom and sits down on the bed.

He asks you to bend over, to lay across his lap with your clothed ass pointing up. It makes you feel like a petulant child, you hate it. He's done this before, because he has picked up on how you said the word 'fuck'.

Kento pulls your leggings and panties over your ass and leaves it there, bulging at the plush of your thighs. He tells you that he won't sleep with you, not right now. Which meant that he's going to make an example of you.

At least if he is fucking you, the crack of his hand making the connection with your bare skin, isn't nearly as embarrassing. But alas, he doesn't, he strikes your ass in the weighted silence, heavy with burden and humiliation.

At least if he fucks you and finishes all over your stomach, there's a likely chance he'll fall asleep. Then you can have a moments peace to yourself. Trying to escape him is impossible now, you can't count the the amount of times you have tried on ten fingers anymore.

Ten times he spanks you, cupped hand with the extra sting he likes, his free hand laying flat on the small of your back like it's supposed to soother you, but it's not.

It's to keep you there so he has control.

Kento always needs to have control.

Yandere!Ryomen Sukuna

Tags: Mark making. Physical abuse. Rough sex. Dubious consent. Shaming.

"Fuck me like it's the last time."

Why the fuck did you just say that? You think it was a way to stop him glaring at you the way he just did because you were sure he was going to make your day miserable.

Sukuna actually laughs at this, cackles even. He says that it's not up for debate, there is no chance he would ever let you get far enough to make this the last time. Because he will always find you.

You have not ever attempted to escape him, it's like he can read your mind and even the slightest whiff of a plan to leave makes him give you the look as though he would burn you alive right where you stand.

He thinks you're weak, in comparison to him, you are. But your spirit is much stronger than he assumes, even if he can see straight through you.

There's no point in trying to fight him, no chance to slip from his grasp as his nails dig in with those little present shapes over your skin. Little deeper marks when his nails are especially sharp. You're sure he does this purpose, just to watch your eyes wince no matter how much you try to hide it.

"It it's to be the last time, let's make the most of it." He says, taking you in his bed like an animal howling in the night.

Terrifying. Ghastly. A demon unlike anything you ever read in books. The cursed man believes in no boundaries, no safe words. Just pure raw sex, hormones to run rampant while he's balls deep inside you. The bare skin slaps and sucks each other in until you are screaming from under him.

He only laughs. This is exactly what he wants. What he craves.

Just what he expects from his little pathetic whore.

Yandere!Toji Fushiguro

Tags: Forced marriage? Restraints. Power imbalance. Marriage. Psychological tactics. Cunnilingus.

"Fuck me like it's the last time." You said it out of anger.

You want it to be the last time. Truly.

Most days you often ask yourself how in the hell Toji managed to persuade you to get married. The old ball and chain as they said back in the day.

You didn’t realise that it meant an actual restraint around your ankle. Not that Toji needs it to keep you right where you are, but you assume it’s for dramatic effect.

There isn’t a day that goes by now that you don’t hate his guts, often questioning yourself how you even said yes to him in the first place.

It’s odd, because you don’t even remember.

Today, Toji promised he would let you out again after much deliberation. Like a fucking dog more like. It angered you, the only reason you have been kept inside was because the cashier spoke words to you while Toji stood right there and watched. How were you supposed to pay if you did not talk?

Why did you say yes to marrying him again?

You don’t remember. You only remember how he uses his tongue over your body because he claims to own it. He tells you this every time, because the difference in power between you is so immense.

You can't leave even if you tried.

This whole thing is fucked, while you get fucked. Toji enjoys eating you, pulling every guttural moan from your lips so he can savour it because no one else has the privilege to hear it. But you know it’s because he’s insanely possessive over you. It’s unhealthy. This relationship is unhealthy, yet he’s convinced you to stay.

How?

After he makes you come a few times, you’re in a daze. Is that when he convinces you?

You’re married. He gets half of everything you own. Everything you worked hard for. What does he actually bring to the table besides some misinformed ownership over you?

At times it’s like he wants you to divorce him, but still keep you here. It’s obvious he will make things difficult for you.

He always makes things difficult for you.

Yandere!Choso

Tags: Obsessed. Mentions of making a family. Missionary sex. Attempted break up.

"Fuck me like it's the last time." You have had enough of Choso’s clingy nature, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. You’re tired of it.

One last time, and then you will see whether or not you would leave. The connection is there, but his protective, over bearing nature is suffocating.

Choso looks at you like you have just broken up with him point blank. You haven’t. But you are unsure of how to proceed with this.

He tells you he’ll do anything to keep you happy. He will do anything. He’d steal for you, hurt for you, kill for you. Die for you.

It’s all very intense.

You can’t live this way, you know this when he holds you, pulls you close and presses precious little kisses all over your face, your neck. He holds your hands softly, lacing your fingers with his as he leads you over to the bed.

Choso makes love to you slowly, intimately, whispering all sorts of nonsensical drivel. He loves you. He adores you. He wants you to be in his life forever, live in a little bubble, start a family together.

He wants it all with you, he says as much as he’s inside you, rutting slowly, sensually enough it allows you to clear your mind.

This is not healthy.

But how can you deny him now after he’s saying all of this?

When he comes inside you, he draws back to look down at you, staring up at him.

“I love you. This isn’t the last time, is it?” He strokes your hair and presses his lips to your nose and he loves you, it’s true.

How can you deny this now?

This is not healthy.

[dragonpotter]

i find it funny how allicent says that viserys is "blind" when it comes to rhaenyra's sons and rhaenyra in general. of course he is not blind, he knows very well how his daughter is, he knows her son's aren't laenor's, he just doesn't want to punish her. does alicent really think that viserys would exile her, kill her for having bastard sons? what kind of father would do that? not one who loves his daughter like viserys does. and alicent doesn't understand being loved unconditionally, she doesn't understand how someone can just be loved for who they are, their flaws and mistakes combined. all her life, she did everything by the book, everything just right and that still didn't make anyone love her. and for her, it's rhaenyra's fault, because she is loved, even though she broke several of those "rules". and alicent, instead of realizing that maybe those rules are kind of stupid actually, just blames rhaenyra instead of admitting to herself that she is jealous. she envies rhaenyra for being free, and being loved even though she doesn't follow the stupid rules that alicent does.

alicent says that viserys is blind about rhaenyra but i actually think he is way more blind about her. she has been plotting treason (telling his children that aegon will be the king), spreading rumours about rhaenyra's sons, threatening rhaenyra and her sons with a knife???? and viserys never did anything substantial to make her stop.

the most ironic part of them all is that she complains about viserys being "blind" to criston cole of all people, who i have NO IDEA why was never punished. he KILLED a man in the royal wedding and nothing happened to him. and when harwin strong beat criston up, he was removed from his post as commander of the city watch, but criston beats a man to death in a royal wedding and nothing happens?? let's not forget that when the king explicitly forbade that luke's eyes be taken out after, criston still tried to do it, he only didn't do it because daemon stopped him.

viserys wasn't blind about rhaenyra. he just loved her the way that she was and wasn't going to do anything stupid to harm her. like a father who loves her daughter unconditionally would, but alicent wouldn't know anything about that, would she? and for her, it's rhaenyra's fault that she is loved unconditionally, not otto's fault for being a shitty father.

the irony is that i believe viserys was in fact blind about alicent. about her ambition for her sons and bitternes towards rhaenyra. he was also blind about criston cole, who murdered a man in her daughter's wedding and wanted to take his grandson's eye out, but didn't get punished for any of it.

[celuere]

I don't know if you have done this already, but could you do hc of vampire Arlecchino? I literally can't stop thinking about this.

Been on a Vampire!Arle brainrot for the last days and UGHHHHHHHHHHJJ DMMNKANDNQND the way she can suck me DRY. Like in my poll I did a few weeks back about what I should write next, I mentioned the option of a Vampire!Arle x Hunter!reader and let me indulge you in my scheming and what you can expect.

Most Vampire Hunter works I’ve read, they somehow always end up being human. Barely a match for a vampire BUT what speaks against another mythical creature hunting for the blood suckers? A Fae for example?

Now, Fae‘s are- well, Faeries just without the wings. Possessing over the same supernatural abilities of a vampire along with a wide range of elemental powers, light/shadow manipulation etc. and over a VERY long lifespan. Known to be unnaturally beautiful beings and their blood-

Their blood is known to be absolutely delectable.

So there is the Hunter Organization of the Fae and the Fatui Clan. The oldest and most dangerous Vampire Clan with its eleven Fatui Harbingers, Arle being a human-turned-vampire through the Tsaritsa and NOW I can get to my headcanons. I sadly can’t go into much details or else I would spoil the plot of my Vampire Arle work💔

slightly suggestive, MDNI

Still hosting the HotH, the orphans being either Vampire fledglings or human children which she had to turn in order for them to survive. She helps them accustom to their life for example how to control and manage their bloodthirst, how to choose their prey correctly and feast on them without killing them accidentally.

Now, since Vampires age completely different than humans, I’d say Arle would have the physical appearance of a 35 yo old woman while already being +1000 years old, meaning she counts as an ancient Vampire already

Actually rarely goes hunting for human blood and prefers animals, but since their blood isn’t as nutritious as human blood, she has to drink way more often than her colleagues. Sometimes if she DOES get hungry for something other than animals she goes out and snatches the first pretty thing on the street she can find.

She‘s a good drinker. Making sure the victim is passed out and buries her fangs into a spot that’s less hurtful, she might be a monster but that doesn’t mean she has to act like one.

Oh but when she gets her hands on the pretty hunter fae that’s been on her ass for the past decades… she may never want anything else. (I don’t wanna spoiler too much😌)

Vampire‘s have their own laws. Some of them for example is that they have a STRICT hierarchy and I mean STRICT. Like an ordinary dude disrespecting her out of nowhere? That‘s a dead man. That also means that the head of the Fatui Clan - the Tsaritsa - has utmost authority. Her word IS the law. That’s not even something Arlecchino wants to defy… well maybe she’ll make an exception for you.

She is possessive of her prey. I mean that with all my heart. Once a Vampire claimed ownership over a certain individual, it‘s by Vampire law their very own property. Any inappropriate approaches by someone else of her kind is deemed hostile and she IS allowed to get rid of them, no matter their status. And she will.

I think I’d be funny to see her turn into a cute little bat. She‘d be so adorable.

She does frown at Childe whenever he just takes a drink in front of her, like no- she doesn’t wanna see that.

But on the other she could not care LESS if Columbina is sitting in front of her and drinking her third man of the day dry. Nuh uh, she doesn’t drink from pretty ladies, she thinks they’re too precious.

A teasing little shit when she gets to have a taste of you. Having you neatly seated in her lap, bare neck exposed to her- goodness you look beautiful when you wait for her to get a drink of you.

Her hands CANNOT stay in one place once she sunk her teeth into your skin. Grabbing onto your hips, then the next they’re running through your hair, opening up your ponytail so she can grab a better handful to tug your head back.

She‘d never just drink from one spot. After your neck she‘d take your hand gently into hers and guides it up to her lips before she buries her fangs into your wrist. Crossed-pupils always watching you, analyzing you before you eventually grow limp from her intake of blood, that’s when she‘ll stop.

She‘d get a drink by biting straight into your tit or your inner thigh but maybe that’s just me.

Afterwards she‘d clean up the bloody bite marks and gently lay you down on your bed, filling you up a glass of strawberry juice (lots of iron, good for your blood) and place it with a bowl of oatmeal on your nightstand. She is caring like that.

If you can’t tell I’m very obsessed with the idea. Sedate me please.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Chains of Bones: DARK!GODAEMOND X READER

Tags: DARK AEMOND, GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED AU

🔷Summary: You are a servant working for the goddess Rhaenyra and the God Daemon. You are tasked with protecting the flowers and one day, you find yourself captured by rhaenyra's greatest enemy: Aemond.

🔷Author's note: Dark af.

WARNINGS: Misogny, (no kidding) emotional manpulation, dubcon, body betrayl, vaginal sex (f recv) oral sex (f recev) rough sex, mentions of loss of virginty, emotional gaslighting and gore, blood, and a lot of...BONES.

This is a dead dove

Do not eat it.

(a+ warning)

wordcount:4044 (wow what a nice number)

AU.

Daemon Targaryen’s pov (3th person)

Daemon has never been a patient soul. He is known for his terrible temper, mood swings and violence tendencies whenever he is made to wait. One time he beheaded a servant for not delivering his sword on time. And Daermon will never be a patient soul.

He sits on the dragonstone throne, legs crossed and anxiously eyeing the golden hourglass where more and more sands gather at the bottom. He sighs, displeased. Waiting makes him feel powerless, and being powerless makes him dangerous. The King of the Dragons has never been very forgiving. Not even his wife, the Goddess of the Realms and Lights could teach him that virtue. Nothing would. Not his children, nothing.

Finally, the big stone doors are pushed open. Daemon rises, at long last. He stares right into a empty hallway. He takes out his sword, and carefully approaches the door making sure to watch his back at the same time. When he reaches the doors, he can feel a feint, tiny brush of air as if someone slipped just past him.

And when he turns around, there is a tall, pale, black clothed creature sitting on his throne, arms crossed over the arm seats, wearing a crown made of bones. The creature chuckles at Daemon’s scowl. ‘’My favorite uncle. Please sheath your sword. I don’t wish to harm you.��’ The man says. 

Daemon knows how well a duel would end, with them both being immortal beings driven by devine powers. It would be a dumb waste of time to even try to kill Aemond Targaryen. Not when he is wearing the bone crown and still embodies the King of the Underworld. So with great displeasure, Daemon does as he is told. For once. 

Pleased, Aemond sinks back further in the big chair, dramatically sighing as he takes in the paintings on the ceiling. Tales of old Valyria and the doom are written up there and he lets out a chuckle as Daemon’s blood pressure only rises and rises. ‘’Am I late?’’ The smirk betrays that he has watched Daemons squirming and impatient pacing for some time. ‘’My apologies. It was a hell of a ride to get here.’’ 

Daemon rolls his eyes at the overused poor joke. ‘’We know you’ve been troubled with traveling lately.’’ It is true. As King of the Underworld, Aemond cannot leave Hell unattended for too long. It is one of the pesky burdens that comes with the bone crown. Aemond seems to think this a burden too, as he quickly avoids Daemon’s eyes, suddenly looking quite human and even alone.

Aemond pushes himself up from the chair, his tone changing from calm and cheerful to a barely concealed threat. ‘’All thanks to your wife, and your devilspawn. You should’ve had them all whipped or beaten. You are too soft with your little girls.’’ Daemon hides a smirk, barely containing his pride that his daughters of all people got the better of Aemond. He would not beat anyone. He rewarded them. ‘’No matter. There is nothing more they can do to hurt me.’’ He is worried. Aemond does not forgive nor forget.

A silence follows as Aemond slowly approaches Daemon, his good eye staring at the sword, Darksister. It never has left Daemon’s side. Not once. ‘’You look good, Aemond. More…like you used to be.’’ Daemon’s voice is a soft whisper that becomes only softer once he realizes how much more human Aemond looks. No more black and blue bruises under his eyes, no more blood used as make up or bone necklaces and skin cloaks. No. Aemond looks different. Almost like the nephew, Daemon lost so long ago.

Aemond smiles, but its not sincere. Its the smile of the devil, of the darkness that hides deep within him. “Ah, you see, Uncle I have fallen in love.” He proclaims, as he takes a goblet of wine, that he magically made appear on a side table near the throne. There is one for Daemon too. Aemond gestures, inviting Daemon to drink with him.

It would be too good to be true for Daemon. Drinking with his nephew, like they used to. It feels like a trap. Aemond rolls his eye at Daemon’s suspicion. ‘’What good would poisoning you even do to me? I already got all I wanted. All the power I desire.’’ A lie. But one Daemon wants to believe. His wife holds the final piece of power Aemond wants, the Crown of Light. But he can’t have that. Rhaenyra would never willingly hand it over. 

Daemon is so caught up in staring at the wine that he only hears Aemond’s words so much later. Love? He breaks his stare, looking at his nephew instead. It would explain Aemond’s change of wardrobe, of his mysterious sudden visit and his cheeks that seem to have a tiny bit of color. It is love. Daemon just never assumed he was capable of love. Not anymore. 

And that gives Daemon hope.

Because if Aemond can love, he can be defeated. He can lose the crown and become a mortal once more. Easy as that.

Daemon puts his goblet down, his eyes sparkling with joy and curiosity. "Truly? Such wondrous news. I am glad for you. Tell me, who is the lovely lady?” Whoever captured the heart of Aemond had to be a special girl. A very special girl. 

Aemond shrugs in a way that tells Daemon nothing at all and takes another sip of the wine. When he is finished, he licks off his lips. “She makes me very happy. That's all you need to know. I want your permission to take her with me to the underworld. I want her to become my queen and the mother of my children. She will be treated as a goddess and worshiped as she deserves.” It is up to Daemon. Aemond cannot drag any souls to the Underworld. Not without Daemon’s or Rhaenyra’s consent. He needs their power to open the portal. He would otherwise not get anyone back to hell.

“Well, your happiness is important to me. If you are certain, you may take her with you when you go home.” Daemon says, a bit too careless. A bit too stupid. The moment those words are spoken, Aemond cracks his neck, a smirk spreading on his lips, wider than it should. He begins to chuckle, throws his goblet over his shoulder and takes off, sprinting to the big stone doors. 

Daemon watches him disappear, but before he leaves, he can hear Aemond’s words.  “Thank you, Uncle. I am sure to invite you to our wedding.”

—------------------

You are sitting on your knees, attending the flowers of a dark, black rose. The roses have sprouted out of the ground as mushrooms in fall lately, and the Queen told you to watch them whenever that happened. The flowers are blooming now. You just need to wait on Queen Rhaenyra to return to tell her the good news. 

The Queen warned you to never wander into the garden too far, as the other flowers have terrible effects on mortals. Flowers that could make you sleep forever, or turn you into a toad or straight up kill you. A pity. You always liked flowers. But you like living more. So you stay, patiently waiting for the Queen. 

The clouds begin to gather as the wind picks up in a strange way that feel too cold for spring, and too brute. It feels like winter itself, wrapping around you, making you shiver as you glance around. There is nothing there. You tell yourself so, at least.

The wind continues blowing, and you watch as the petals of the black roses fall, gathering on a pile on the ground. You take a step back, just for safety.  The petals fall on the ground, rise up, and form a circling whirlwind of black, rose petals. And eventually, someone appears in the middle of all the petals. A figure with a skin pale as bones, hair as white as the moon wearing a black cloak, covered in symbols you do not understand. 

He looks at you, staring at you as if studying you. You do the same. You take in his terrifying crown, wondering if its made of real bones. You also stare at his nails that have dark, black unnatural ends, where dark magic is clearly gathering ready to be used.  ‘’Careful, Petal. It is dangerous at night.’’ He says, smiling at you. You are well aware. It is why you go home whenever it gets dark.

Confident, you laugh.

‘’It is midday, sir.’’ You say, and look up to prove your point. Only to be met with a dark canvas where no star shines, where no moon shimmers. Just absolute darkness. 

‘’How-’’ You stutter, quickly shutting yourself up.

‘’Mhm.’’ He smirks, pleased with your confusion. ‘’I can do so many more tricks.’’ He says, approaching you carefully. He snaps his fingers, and in his left hand there is now a beautiful black rose. He sniffs it briefly, before extending it to you, as if to give it. You are careful with accepting. You know all magic comes with a price. Dark magic, the most of all.

‘’I should go back to the palace.’’ You say, refusing to accept the rose. The man chuckles, snaps his fingers again, and you feel a soft breeze near your face. You feel your hair, and notice that he put something in it. Likely the rose. 

‘’Gevie.’’ The man mutters, staring at you. You know it is a compliment. Prince Daemon calls his wife, Queen Rhaenyra this regularly. You know well what it means. It should flatter you. But it only scares you. Terrifies you. Because why does that man know the tongue of the Gods?

You don’t re-announce your departure, you just run this time. You feel your feet stop under your legs, and you fall on the stones, scratching your knees and hands on the beautiful mosaic tiles. The man kneels down besides you, staring at your hands. ‘’My poor Petal, let me help you. That wasn’t my intention.’’ He waves his hands over your knees, and you watch as the wounds heal under his touch. You yank your legs away, terrified. 

He smiles, calmly. ‘’Well, now that we both understand our positions, I think it is time to make preparations.’’ You don’t speak to him, your mind wandering as you wonder what he could possibly mean. He begins to ramble a bit, you aren’t paying attention. You hear him praise your beauty and your intelligence. At the end he grabs your chin, and gives you a kiss on your lips. Shocked, you pull away. 

‘’What do you think you are doing?’’ You yell, in fury. The man backs away, hurt and confusion written in his good eye. You can tell he isn’t used to rejection. Or any of this. His compliments felt sincere but insecure. He is not used to courting anyone.

‘’Claiming my price?’’ He asks, a bit dumbfounded and a bit dry.

Fury burns inside of you. ‘’Your price?!’’ You give him a push against his chest, creating more distance. ‘’I am not sure who you think you are…’’

That causes him to wake up. He smirks, and claps his hands. Darkness spreads further as you back away, terrified. ‘’Let me introduce myself, Petal.’’ Roots deep from the earth, grab your feet, chaining you to the earth as the man smiles.

You somehow know just who he is when you look at your feet. No tree roots are holding you. But skeleton arms. Bones. ‘’I am the King of the Underworld, Lord of Death, bringer of Doom, friend of depression. I am Aemond, I am everything mortals fear.’’ He will kill you. He will tear your soul out.

To hurt Rhaenyra and Daemon.

‘’But you, my love, my Petal…’’ He whispers, touching your face gently. You expect him to take your eye or your sight away. To feel blood and next to feel the sweet embrace of death. But you only feel a soft, kiss on your head.

Aemond smiles, and you realize he kissed you again. ‘’It was predicted, long ago, that you wouldn’t be frightened, Petal. I must say, I never believed in that. Until now. You have already proved to me that the prophecy is no lie. You make my heart beat again. You Petal, are very dear to me.’’ He puts your free hand on his heart, and you are shocked when your hand sinks away in his chest, proving there is no heart. Just a hole.

You open your mouth, screaming.

‘’Queen Rhaenyra!’’ You hope she comes to save you.

He is very quick to silence you.

‘’Petal!’’ He groans, slamming a hand on your mouth. ‘’No. Bad. I don’t want her here.’’ He says, chuckling to hide how truly scared he is of her. ‘’I don’t want the Queen here. If you prove to be obedient, I might invite her to our wedding. But I don’t want her ruining what I worked so hard for.’’ What work? 

Aemond takes in your chained down feet and your trembling body. He leans in, kissing you on your lips, before moving to your neck, and your shoulders. ‘’My Petal.’’ He proclaims, as if stating a claim over you and your body. You stubbornly try to break free again. He grins. ‘’No, I won’t let you go, until I have what I want.’’ He wants you.

You feel strange sensations and unfamiliar desires battle deep inside of you as his lips gently suck on your skin, pulling your dress more and more down and open. He takes in your breasts, gasping hungrily as if he’s been without food for days. He begins to kiss your breasts, gently touching them with his long fingers. His nails scratch over your mortal skin, and it slightly burns.

You must stop him. ‘’My lady is powerful. If I were you I  won’t do this again or continue.’’ Your voice is pitched, driven by the desire as your head becomes lightheaded.

Aemond scowls, displeased as he stops touching you. “Daemon gave you away to me. He said my happiness is very important to him.” He says. Somehow hearing that Daemon sold you to this monster, breaks your heart. When you lost your own family you had hoped they would take you in. But they betrayed you. Same as your own family. You sob. 

‘’Rhaenyr-’’ Your voice suddenly stops. Aemond smiles, kissing you again. and again. and again.

“Sh, my lovely petal. I will speak, you'll be silent and hear what I have to say. For your own sake.” He whispers kissing your cheeks. Tears break free as you whimper, trying to find your You only fight harder. He chuckles, pleased with this development. “Stop it or I'll take away your free will too, my little petal.” he whispers but his voice is as cold as his eyes. You obey, crying silently. 

He seems to soften at this, awkwardly patting your back. “There is no reason for sadness. You'll be coming with me. You'll become the Queen of the Underworld. All your wishes will come true and all your enemies will watch you triumph. You'll wear the finest silks and the heaviest crowns, entrusted with the rarest gems. You'll be my queen.”

You don’t want to become his Queen.

‘’Mine.’’ He whispers as he kisses your breasts, softly biting on your nipples, causing you to cry out in pain. He chuckles, the pain of you likely arousing him further. ‘’I am the God of everything that's forbidden, Petal. I can feel your desires, sense your lust to take you in this garden, to take and to take until there's nothing left for me to take.” You moan as he begins to push your final layer of clothing down too, inserting his long fingers inside of you. 

You whimper wordlessly. He smiles, undressing himself too. He picks you up by your hips, planting you easily on the stone bench, with your back to his front.  “I am your Queen.” You say, unsure where your sentence is going.

Aemond laughs in response, pushing a finger deep inside of you. “Not yet.  And I have been waiting for this for some time. I have certain plans that will be upheld. And besides…” He bends you as some animal, on your knees ready to be taken. You are once again feeling his fingers, and feel his lips leave kisses on your back. 

You feel trapped.

You begin to whimper again. He kisses you, but his kisses only burn.

“Shh. My love. I've waited so long. And here you are.” he cups your breasts feeling every inch of your skin. “Mine, wet and warm. You'll feel as a delight. I want you to know, Petal. It'll hurt. But that's part of the fun. I'll teach you. How to please me…and yourself.” He promises you as you briefly battle against his strong arms.

“I love you, Petal.” He whispers, before slamming himself inside of you, grabbing you by the hips and taking you on the garden bench. Your cries echo through the night and the garden as pleasure builds, blinding you for a moment. Aemond lets out a deep moan, close to a groan. 

You cry out, trying to escape.

Aemond chuckles and takes you again letting out a sigh. “You will not be going anywhere. Be a good sweet girl and take what I'm giving you.” He whispers. ‘’You like it too, Petal. You are going to like it so much.’’ You know you shouldn’t. Your whimpers increase as well as his moans. 

The taking becomes aggressive and almost painful, as Aemond’s hunger for you grows. You look back, taking in his silver blonde hair and the crown that is still standing perfectly still on his head. You reach out, to touch his face. He bends you back on the bench, taking you again and again. You cry out, the stones muffling your cries and moans. You hear him chuckle, moan and groan in delight, and finally you hear him scream your name. You freeze up, terrified. You never told anyone that. Your real name. Aemond simply lifts you from the bench, inspecting you with a grin. ‘’Your turn, little Petal.’’ He looks at the bloodied bench. He puts you back on your knees, and this time you are being the one catered to. He kisses you much gentler and tries to not bite you anymore. He is allowing you to touch his hips. But not much more than that. Whenever you try to touch his face, or to kiss him, he recoils, clearly annoyed with your attempts. You are new to this. Maybe that is it. But you aren’t an idiot, and deep down you know Aemond is hiding something.

The moans escape your mouth at some point, pleasure taking hold of you and blocking your anger. Aemond grins, satisfied as you begin to carefully move your back against his front, begging for it slightly. He likes that, touches your legs slightly, rewarding you with a soft kiss that makes you shiver. He pats your legs. Aemond chuckles. “It's good, hm?”

You nod. ‘’Y-yes.’’

He smiles. ‘’I will make you finish, Petal. But I need you to do something first for me.’’ You are curious and worried. You are quickly taken again, to block out the question. To make you stop wondering and worrying.

‘’What?’’ You ask.

‘’I need you to hold my crown. For a moment.’’ Aemond says, surprising you. You reach out to his crown, carefully feeling the bones. Nothing happens. Or, nothing you can see. But something has shifted.

You let go of the crown as Aemond touches your back, rubbing it gently for you and kisses you between your legs. ‘’Now it’s time to give you your reward.’’ You brace yourself as Aemond this time forces you on your back, and spreads your legs. You embrace him, as he violently fucks you on the bench, giving you it his all. He builds and builds your pleasure until finally you implode, crying out. He smiles, and you feel relief and satisfaction. He stops.  You are bleeding and a sore mess when he is finished. He is a god, after all. 

You sit up, catching your breath as you stare at your ruined dress. Aemond snaps his fingers, and the next moment you are dressed in a beautiful white lace gown. He smiles, admiring his own magic on your skin. ‘’There. That is fit for a Queen. Not those rags you were put in earlier.’’ He declares, feeling your forehead with the back of his hand. He is taking your temperature. Why? He studies your face carefully too.

‘’A Queen needs a crown, don’t you agree?’’ You say, eying the bone crown on his head. You heard the legends. You know what it does. It would make you the new King of the Underworld. Aemond chuckles, condensing as if he caught you in a lie.

You expect him to take your eye or to kill you in a whim. But he does something unspeakable instead. He boops your nose. ‘’Alas, my powers are limited in this world.  But I assure you, your coronation is one of the most important things on my mind.’’ You don’t doubt that it is. It sounds as if he somehow has your whole life planned out with him.

‘’I would much rather stay here.’’ You say, clearly. ‘’This was fun but …I am a servant.’’ You hope it's embarrassing for him to love someone so lowly.

Aemond shrugs. ‘’You can still be my servant, if you are into serving. You will just be wearing a crown and making all your enemies bow.’’ He gives you a final chance to join him willingly. You step away.

He shrugs once more, and snaps his fingers, opening a vortex of pure darkness under your feet. The darkness sweeps you away and you know exactly where you are going. The Underworld.

You end up in the throne room, laying on the tiles and deeply in pain. A hand helps you stand, and you look at Aemond’s smug face. He doesn’t seem that charming anymore. You sit up, still wearing the gown he gave you. ‘’My love for you is true, Petal. In time, you will see that. But I don’t want Daemon coming back on his agreement.’’ He tells you, and you are shocked that he even tells you this at all.

‘’Why would Daemon come back on his deal?’’ You ask.

He smiles, avoiding the question. ‘’You are as clever as you are beautiful. One day, you’ll figure it out. But for now, I have many enemies. I don’t want them stealing you away from me.’’

‘’Like you stole me?’’ You reply.

‘’Don’t hurt me, Petal.’’ He dramatically clutches at his chest, and his hand vanishes through the fabric inside of the skin. You roll your eyes, but also can’t help the smile that creeps on your lips.

He snaps his fingers, and a thin necklace made out of bones appears around your neck, weighing you down in ways that almost make you stumble to your knees. He smiles as you stumble, fall to your knees and try to tear the necklace off your neck. ‘’See this as your crown, until I know I can trust you. I don’t trust many people, Petal. So, you have one chance with me. Don’t ruin it. Or I will have to add your lovely bones to my collection.’’ Your face is cupped again and Aemond kisses your lips again, this time freed of all bounds that you had in the upper world. He devours and kisses you at the same time, taking pieces of your soul. You try to fight it and to stop it, but after a while you notice you hunger for him, and even pull him back by the collar of his shirt  when he tries to leave. He smiles as an answer. ‘’Welcome home, my Queen.’’ He leaves after that, leaving you alone in the castle.

You try to break the necklace again, and again. And when that does not work, you break into tears and sobs and begin to scream, trying to either free or choke yourself. Eventually, you black out.

A/N USELESS WORLD BUILDING IS HERE

Hello.

As with any fic so tied heavily to lore,

I like to tell you a bit more about the world. So the world is Greek mythology inspired but its also really tied in with demonic things like demons and stuff. ( as i didnt read greek mythology as a kid because and youre gonna laugh ''EW THOSE PEOPLE DID INCEST'' WELL BELLY GUESS WHAT?! XDD'' It is also inspired by OUAT (Once upon a time)’s magic system. (Magic comes with a price, dearie eheheheh) It basically was a unhinged mix of it all. I liked assigning the targaryens with like new goddess thingies because Daemon being the god of dragons it just sounded fun. I wanted him and aemond to have a closer relationship because I think thats great when it all goes to hell:) literally. and the roses. theres a beauty and the beast reference in there too, i feel it. ‘’what of the bones?’’ oh, those. ehm…i dont really know where they came from, and suddenly there were a lot xD when i sat down and edited the fic, Aemond didnt had that power ,..and now he does xD so . xD okay enough rambling bye bye. Let me know what you think. This was my first god aemond Fic xD

[luludeluluramblings]

AAAAHHHHH THANK YOU FOR RESPONDING. But your response to the madoka magica question got me thinkin. LET ME COOK. Madoka magica!reader. LEMME COOK. Little warning this might be a yap sesh. Now I have multiple thoughts. Let’s say reader doesn’t do what madoka does and just becomes a regular magical girl. If we follow off of the show/manga. We’re gonna assume reader is gonna be around 7th grade. Which is gonna be such a young age to be fighting those TERRIFYING witches. Lowkey was shivering in my boots when I first saw sayaka’s form. So of course reader is gonna have ptsd. Especially if they were some what in Madoka’s place and watches mami get her head bitten off?!?!? I think the batfam would definitely start to pick up on things. Flinching from touch. Covering up more (covering scars and wounds from battle). Not being as talkative. Distancing herself away from people. We all know Alfred would IMMEDIATELY clock that and try to figure out what’s wrong. Batfamily is gonna take much longer to notice though, and when they do? They feel TERRIBLE. Having to fight some of the most disturbing and hard to beat witches. Having to watch your friends die one by one. I can definitely imagine madoka magica!reader starting to act like sayaka after finding out about the soul gem situation. Depressed and riddled with a LOT of ptsd. The batfam would probably blame themselves (serves them right). And when they try to confront reader to stop fight witches? But what happens if it’s too late. Either madoka magica!reader is either gruesomely killed in battle, or went through the excruciating process of becoming the witch. They wouldn’t know what to do. Some of them letting the guilt eat them alive, letting the guilt control their every thought. Only being able to think about the pain reader must have been in.(Bruce and dick). Some of them denying reader’s dead. They can’t be dead! No no they can’t they just can’t! This is all just a prank to get attention (Damien). Couple of them enjoying anything and everything that remind them about reader. Taking stuff from reader’s room. Just so they can have a little soloist.(Alfred, Tim). Others not being able to stand anything that reminds them of reader. Not being able to be reminded of the neglect reader was put through. That they helped put reader through that neglect. (Jason)

I’d love to hear your thoughts. I have a lot more ideas for this but I don’t wanna yap to much and bother you TwT. But if you wanna have the concept go ahead! I’m not that good at writing so I wouldn’t be able to do. Btw you truly do have amazing writing!! Please remember to never overwork yourself<333

Babe, you have cooked and written this better than I would have. (I confess, I never finished Madoka Magica) And, I about to send all the asks I'm getting over this to you!

But, the way Bruce's disdain for magic would be solidified after this would be interesting. And, if they find out this is still happening to other children still, he'd probably go on a warpath and get the League involved as a way to help ease his guilt.

Or, watching him realize that there's no reversing Reader from being a Witch and that another magical girl is going to come a long an kill them.

I'm honestly wondering if one of the family members would make a deal just for a way to get Reader back.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

“I don’t think that is what God wants. And I don’t think you want it either.”

This line of Aziraphale’s in the Job minisode keeps sticking out to me. Because this is the heart of the problem, right? This is how Aziraphale can see Crowley so completely and also not at all.

Because yes they suck at open communication and yes it’s because they had to hide their relationship for thousands of years and have so so so much trauma and fear to work through. But ALSO they actually do have a profound difference in how they see the world that keeps coming between them, and it’s not just theoretical but deeply personal to both of them.

Because Aziraphale still wants to believe that God is good. He can’t let go of that because his whole identity is wrapped up in being an angel of the Lord, and if God’s not good then what has he been doing for his entire existence?

And so when bad things are happening he falls back on This cannot be what God wants. The whole of season one, he refuses to believe that God could really want the world to end—even though we now know he knew this was a possibility before the world even started. He keeps going up the chain of command, trying to find someone to intervene. “That’s why I’m going to have a word with the Almighty and then the Almighty will fix it.” As if God doesn’t have all the information or hasn’t been paying attention.

And really, the events of season one reinforce this worldview for him. Because if the Archangel Fucking Gabriel isn’t sure what God wants, then maybe God did want them to stop Armageddon. Maybe it was Aziraphale and Crowley who were doing God’s work after all.

He’s gotten as far as realizing that Heaven’s orders are not the same thing as God’s will, but he still hasn’t detached the concepts of Good and Right from God in his worldview.

Crowley is a good person who does the right thing so he must still be an angel deep down. “I know the angel you were.” The only way Aziraphale can conceptualize Crowley saving Job’s children is, “Come on, you’re a little bit on our [God’s] side.” So Crowley’s fall was a mistake; Crowley belongs in Heaven, where he was so happy before the Fall. Why wouldn’t he want to be an angel again? And yeah maybe Heaven sucks now but God is still good, so there’s hope that the system can be reformed with a change of leadership, and Heaven can be made to actually do good, the way God always intended.

But that’s not how Crowley sees the world at all. He is operating with an entirely different understanding of reality. Because he figured out a long time ago (at least by the time of the Job job, but probably long before that) that you can’t base your sense of morality on what you think God wants. Not just because you don’t know for sure, but because sometimes God’s plans are fucking awful. God in Good Omens is not kind to Her creations. She doesn’t tolerate questions or doubts or disobedience. She’s capricious, turning on the creatures She made and killing a bunch of them when She’s in a bad mood. She punishes indiscriminately and disproportionately. She wagers human lives like gambling chips. The kids were supposed to be dead no matter who won the bet.

I think it’s interesting that Crowley is the one who introduces the idea in season one of “What if the Almighty planned it like this all along? From the very beginning.” That’s probably a comforting thought to Aziraphale, soothing his anxieties about going against Heaven right when he is feeling acute distress at the idea of no longer having a side. (And, in that particular moment, no longer even having a bookshop.)

But it’s not a comforting thought to Crowley. Have you seen what happens when God has a plan for you? It fucking sucks. Woe betide you if you’re the Barbie God decides to play with today. (At bare minimum, you’re coming back with some burn marks and a weird haircut.)

I’ve brought up the line “There are no right people. There’s just God, moving in mysterious ways and not talking to any of us” before, and I tend to focus on the “there are no right people” part. But also, there’s just God.

Aziraphale tends to draw a distinction between God’s will and Heaven’s orders when it suits him, and collapse that distinction when it doesn’t. Crowley almost never differentiates between God and Heaven. There’s just God, and She’s not going to explain why this is happening or listen to pleas for mercy (although Crowley still tries). You can’t trust Heaven or Hell, and you can’t count on God to show up and make everything all right. Sometimes God is in fact the reason that things are not all right. You’re on your own.

(And. Look. Crowley is right on this one. There are certainly aspects of their relationship where they’re both equally responsible for things being a shitshow, but the text is pretty unambiguous about Crowley, a demon, having the most accurate read on the nature of God in the world of Good Omens out of any of the metaphysical characters.)

Crowley rebuilt his entire sense of self, alone, after the Fall. He created himself anew and developed his own moral compass and sense of identity independent of both Heaven and Hell. “The angel you knew is not me.” When Crowley does the right thing, that’s not his angel-ness shining through; that’s just Crowley.

And from a like, trauma recovery point of view, it’s actually very healthy for him to have the realization that sometimes God’s just kind of a dick. He didn’t do anything to deserve getting kicked out of Heaven. None of them did. Just God messing them about because She didn’t like being questioned, or She wanted to see what would happen, or She needed two sides for Reasons and didn’t much care who was on one or the other, or She’s playing some fucked up little game for Her own amusement. (And if there was some Great Plan that required Crowley to fall…well, that is also fucked up. Because it doesn’t matter if there was a reason. It still hurt.)

And while Crowley in general is extremely patient with Aziraphale and his slow, halting journey away from Heaven…it’s gotta sting, every time Aziraphale doesn’t want to believe that God could be cruel, when Crowley is standing right fucking there. It’s gotta hurt when Aziraphale refuses to see something that Crowley knows to be true through his own lived experience. Because it should be enough. What happened to him should be enough to make someone who loves him walk away from Heaven and never look back. And it isn’t.

But of course Crowley is one hundred percent not going to talk about this, if he is even fully self-aware about having these thoughts, because it’s far too painful and vulnerable. (He talks to plants, goats, God, and no one in a bar at the end of the world, but never to Aziraphale.) And so he says “Tell me you said no” and “I think I understand a lot better than you do” because he can’t say Choose me. Just this once, choose me and he can’t say Believe me.

And Aziraphale is not going to think about all this and work it out for himself, because he has a massive lump of denial centered around exactly this thing, that sometimes God hurts people who didn’t do anything to deserve it. I’m sure he’s thought about the Fall in abstract terms, enough to be afraid of it, but not in terms of this is a thing that happened to a person I love. And he has certainly not allowed himself to draw any conclusions about the nature of God from it, because that is far too scary a prospect.

And so they’re stuck. Until they can figure out how to remove this massive landmine from the center of their relationship, they are going to keep having the same fight over and over again, and they’re going to keep hurting each other without fully understanding why.