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hiraethwa · 6 months ago

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one summer day

10 epiphany. where ushijima has a sudden realization

<< 09 disconnect. | >> 11 epiphany.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: we only go up from here, my loves - ave word count: 3.7k 💀 warnings: violence, threats, vile, misogynistic comments (by a rando), cursing tags: @lemurzsquad @daisy-room @integers -- (inbox me if you want to be added to the tag list)

april, third year

ushijima wakatoshi is by no means a people person. he is a highly motivated individual, mind always focused on the task at hand. he does not mind people interacting with him, although he can survive without it.

he enjoys playing volleyball and listening to his teammates, occasionally adding to the conversation, but he has never been a particularly talkative person like tendo. it’s not that he dislikes human interaction, he just finds that sometimes, some things are better left unspoken, or perhaps unnecessary altogether.

he never goes out of his way to befriend someone – he was already busy with volleyball as it is, and to add to it, staying on top of his school’s demanding curriculum. people has commented on his stoicism and general unapproachability behind his back, not that he cares enough about it. so naturally, he did not have a lot of friends to begin with.

wakatoshi thinks that he is satisfied with his way of life and intends on keeping it simple with just school and volleyball, and none of the drama that he’s heard going around his year all the time. or rather, he intended to.

and so, he finds himself confused, and irritated as well, when this guy from his year, apparently the captain of the basketball or baseball or whatever, he could care less, tries to start some kind of shit with him.

ushijima was on his way to lunch with tendo when this idiot came and started badmouthing him and the volleyball team, calling him a useless piece of shit and some other names that he stopped listening to. he wondered what the point of this confrontation is when he doesn’t even know who this person is.

with a blank stare and a twitching eyebrow, ushijima cuts him off, “i’m sorry, who are you again?”

it only made him angrier and humiliated, with the crowd that is starting to form around the commotion. “my name is yamasaki takeo.”

“i don’t recall asking for your opinion, yamasaki-san,” ushijima retorts irritably, eliciting a gasp from tendo who is next to him.

yamasaki gapes at him, as the whispers from the students around them grow audibly.

that ought to be the end of it, ushijima thinks, as he makes to leave the scene that yamasaki caused. he has better things to worry about, like the fact that you are still not on speaking terms with him, rather than this pointless confrontation that is clearly wasting his time.

“that’s right, because you’re too busy trying to get into miyamura’s pants than focusing on volleyball, aren’t you?”

tendo reckons that the idiot is relentless in picking a fight with him, and apparently has a death wish. for he had the balls to bring your name up when it is currently occupying the top spot in ushijima’s list of touchy subjects, which is very, very short. in fact, it only has one entry right now.

ushijima clenches his fists. now he is truly irritated, and his short patience is reaching its end.

yamasaki, noticing that he is finally getting a reaction out of the indifferent volleyball captain, delightedly goes on to drag your name through the mud.

“is it really that difficult to get your little girlfriend to sleep with you, captain, if you are so high and mighty? or is it just you that she is not interested in?” he mocks ushijima, a shit eating grin on his face now that he has ushijima’s full attention, discovering his weakness. “maybe she’s actually sleeping around with your friends. in fact, i wouldn’t be so surprised if she is, considering how close she is to semi eita as of late.”

if looks could kill, yamasaki would be long dead by now. his only saving grace being the thin fraying thread of patience that ushijima is holding on to. a very, very thin thread.

“if you know what’s good for you, keep her name out of your filthy mouth.” ushijima grits his teeth.

ushijima hates that he has you dragged into this spectacle. you’re not his girlfriend, much less his friend at this very moment. he hates that too, that you are so far away from his reach. he dislikes the hole your absence left in his meticulous schedule, and he misses the warmth your presence brings him.

for your sake, he has been keeping his temper in check. convincing himself that getting into a brawl with yamasaki would only serve to fan the flames of the situation when word spreads around school, and the one who would suffer the most would be you.

but it appears that yamasaki is asking, practically begging for it, as he continues his goading. “maybe i need to get a taste of her, considering how well she has you wrapped around her finger.”

the thread explodes.

red. red is all ushijima could see as someone grabs a hold of yamasaki’s collar and throws a fist into his cocky face. he is so full of shit. a killing calm descends on ushijima as he watches the person pull his arm back and send another punch to yamasaki. again. and again.

he vaguely registers his friend shouting his name and pulling on his arm with a few of other students. semi and ohira, he realizes. puzzled, he looks down to see his hand gripping tightly onto the front of yamasaki’s uniform, and his left hand is covered in blood.

oh. oh. that was him who punched the asshole.

ushijima releases his hold on yamasaki, breathing heavily as the gravity of the situation settles in. it isn’t some inconsequent drama to circulate around school anymore.

yamasaki struggles to stand, coughing out blood. his nose sits crookedly on his face, most possibly broken. but he has the nerve to smirk, as much as he could, at ushijima. “not so strong now, are you?”

“says the one with a sorry state for a face,” semi retorts, tense from the whole situation.

he merely wipes at his bloodied face, waving semi off. “i am not the one you need to worry about. i am also not the one who is risking his spot on the under 19 team for the youth world championship with a scandal.”

ushijima recoils, blood running cold. was that his goal all along?

“maybe, i will forgive your actions, if you get on your knees and beg,” yamasaki pauses, a dark glint in his eyes, “and give y/n to me.”

his words have ushijima struggling to break free from his teammates, caution thrown to the winds, ready to beat him to a pulp.

“let go of me!” ushijima growls. fuck the consequences, there is no way in hell he will let this asshole lay a finger on you.

he does not notice the crowd parting as the students recognize you and allow you space to get to the front of the commotion. the frown on your face from witnessing the latter half of the events unfolding after you yielded to chika’s curiosity of the commotion that sent students running in the hallways and getting their friends to join them. the sigh that escapes your lips from being the center of the drama.

“is that all it really takes?” your voice stops him in his attempts to break free, his head snapping towards you in shock.

ushijima has not felt fear in years, certainly not on the volleyball court, not since his parents had a messy divorce, but your words send his heart dropping to the floor. “y/n–”

“stay out of it.” you breathe sharply at him, needing your wits about you if you were to get him out of this situation unscathed. turned away from yamasaki, you let out a trembling breath and steel your nerves.

you’ve worn a mask in your own home for years, this is nothing, you remind yourself. sure, the whispers would spread, but for him, you would wreck yourself. to hell with this asshole if he dares to try to bring ushijima down. ironic, considering you distanced yourself to save your own heart. when it is all said and done, it still belongs to him.

“unfortunately, i am not an object that ushijima can simply give away, yamasaki-san, but am i worth the lengths you went to?”

you observe as his eyes dart behind you at ushijima. so that’s how it is. you are not what he wants. what he wants is to get to ushijima, for reasons you can surmise from the gossip that had been floating around the last week.

if you play your cards right, you could twist his arm behind his back, figuratively speaking. he would have no choice but to back down, you hope. if not… you don’t want to even think about it. this has to be enough.

“why don’t i propose you a better trade?” you bat your lashes at the scum in front of you, playing the role of the ever helpless girl using her body to get away with things. praying to the gods above that he will take the bait. just come a little closer and i will show you my teeth, bastard.

surely, you can’t be thinking of actually going out with yamasaki, ushijima tries to convince himself as he watches you smile at the asshole coyly. you are smarter than that, and he is not worth your sacrifice.

or is he? he averts his eyes as you lean in towards yamasaki. shoves the prickling sense of unfamiliar discomfort down. shushes the pealing bells in his mind. the urge to pummel his face to nothing.

he tries to put his mind elsewhere, but a sense of inevitability creeps in. dread, he realizes, crawls up his spine and makes its home there.

he wants to shout at you. something. anything. anything but this. he doesn’t need to be in the youth 19 team. he would rather risk it all. he doesn’t need anything, doesn’t want anything but you by his side. and the thought of it terrifies him.

“wakatoshi-kun,” tendo nudges him and grabs his attention away from his thoughts. he follows tendo’s gaze towards you and takashima, whose cocky smirk was completely wiped off his bloodied and bruised face and replaced by a paleness that looked like fear. “that’s your girl.”

“i’m so glad we were able to come to an understanding, takashima-san. i would hate for such a nasty argument to get even more out of hand, don’t you agree? now that we are on the same page, i’m sure this won’t happen again. right, takashima-san?” ushijima shudders at the underlying hostility in your fake cheery voice that is directed towards takashima. he never wants to be on the receiving end of it, he thinks.

you lay a hand on his arm, an eerily innocent smile on your face. and takashima winces, nodding quickly and too eagerly compared to his earlier behavior.

“i guess we will see you around?” ushijima catches on to the hidden demand under your nice words. you better stay away from us. “oh, do you need a hand to the nurse’s office?”

what exactly did he miss? but he is too awestruck by the way you turned the situation around that he forgot to correct tendo’s earlier statement.

he tunes out takashima’s stuttering response as you turn around, a frown finding its way onto your beautiful features as your cold eyes land on him. barely registers tendo calling “show’s over” and gesturing at the crowd to disperse and mind their own business.

he hates the mask you are wearing, pushing everyone, and him, away as a defense mechanism. he hates that he is the reason you had to don it today to protect him from his own actions.

ushijima finds himself reaching out to you to smooth out the furrow in your brows, only to be met by resistance. your slender fingers hook onto his wrist, halting his movement for a split second before dropping his hand like a hot potato.

“people are watching,” you remind him. your eyes catch on his left hand, where the skin on his knuckles was split, hesitating on your next words. “you should get that treated.”

he frowns, already missing the feeling of your skin on his. why would he care that people are watching?

the four of them end up walking to the nurse’s office with ohira dismissing himself from the group for some errand he had to run for his class. tendo being tendo, starts pestering you about what you did and how you did it despite your clipped answers.

ushijima finds himself staring at the back of your head, unsure if you are just a figment of his imagination from how long he went without interacting with you. next to him, semi nods his head at you, “she doesn’t hate you, you know.”

he stays quiet. if that’s true, then why are you so intent on avoiding him?

“you are both impossible,” semi huffs in disbelief.

finding the nurse’s office empty, semi lets your little group into the dark room. tendo beelines for the cabinet, rummaging for supplies. you didn’t have the energy to tell them that they should probably wait for the nurse to come back.

you keep to the door, fidgeting as if you could not decide to stay or go. “see you guys” you blurt, feet moving quickly out the door.

“y/n–” ushijima panics. is this it? is this all he has left of you?

“i’ll go talk to her.” semi promises, running after you, leaving ushijima in tendo’s hands.

they sit in silence as tendo cleans up ushjima’s bloodied knuckles, the latter unphased by the sting of disinfectant on raw skin with his entire focus on the doorway. wishing.

sure enough, semi returns with an uneasy y/n in tow, looking like you would rather be anywhere but there.

he makes you sit on the bed across from ushijima, an indecipherable look in his eyes. “stay, you two need to talk. tendo and i will be right outside.” translation: don’t think about leaving until you talk to him. to which you return an unamused look, crossing your arms in a defensive manner.

you wait until the door clicks closed behind them before stealing a glance at ushijima. his stare displaces you, as if there is nothing more important than you. unbelievable, you think.

you open your mouth to say something – something mean and hurtful so that he would stop looking at you like he cared, but decide against it, knowing full well your anger, the serpent that rarely rears its head is nasty when it does.

“why are you avoiding me?” he breaks the silence. the first words you’ve heard from him in a long while, not counting the short exchange earlier and during orchestra practice. you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss his voice. that it didn’t calm the wary hissing wild animal in you on some subconscious level.

“why do you care, ushijima?” the name still leaves a bitter taste on your tongue even though you have tried to get over it. you don’t actually love him, right? it’s just a schoolgirl infatuation. or at least, that is what you keep telling yourself, hoping that it will be true when you repeat it enough times.

“you are my friend, y/n.” his eyes snap to yours, begging you to understand.

the feeling of drowning creeps in, bringing you back to the first sleepless nights after you cut him off. how pathetic you were running after someone who did not even treat you as their friend. how worthless. how you went from wishing that he saw you as you are to wishing that he never walked into your life.

“no, if i am your friend, then why didn’t you tell me about the nationals? fuck, i had to find out from semi, and it was only because they needed me to stop you from hurting yourself. what the fuck am i to you, ushijima wakatoshi?” you snap at him.

he starts to say something, but you are not done, not yet.

“why bother? why save me from myself, tell me you’re my friend, when you certainly don’t act like it when it comes to yourself? do you think so little of me? or am i just some basket case to you?” your fists curl at your sides, angry tears threatening to escape your eyes, as you will them back.

why did you start the fight? why?

and then he is at your feet, kneeling and taking your hands into his, looking at you as if you are his salvation. “it was easy, caring for you. felt right, like second nature. you matter to me, but i–” he glances away for a second, almost too much, he thinks “–i don’t know how to let others do the same to me, even if it’s you, that didn’t come naturally. i’m sorry, y/n.” his knuckles are gentle against your skin, brushing away the tears that you didn’t realize started sliding down your cheeks.

the silence stretches, interrupted by your sniffles here and there.

“talk to me.” he tucks the hair that is covering your face behind your ear.

your voice is a pained quiet. “i was running away from you, afraid of what your answer could be. i was scared that you found me unworthy. i felt pathetic, yearning for your friendship if you didn’t feel the same way. but–” your throat tightens at your cowardice, realizing your own mistake.

“it could have been avoided if you just talked to me.” wakatoshi finishes your sentence for you.

“you’re a fucking hypocrite.” you retort, kicking his knee in pettiness. “don’t think you’re so easily forgiven.” and just like that he is forgiven. your heart once again safely tucked away in his hands, returned to its owner after weeks of being torn away bleeding and broken by yours.

it’s unfair, really. the effortlessness it takes on his part to make you whole unknowingly. maybe you were born without a heart, given away to ushijima by fate. maybe he is meant to come into your life and give it back, to remind you that you are alive, and to live.

you keep telling yourself that he is meant for more than you. which is the truth. but it is also because you are afraid of losing him forever.

but he recognizes the way you deflect away from your own vulnerability. “make me beg for it, i’ll do anything to redeem myself.” you mean too much to me.

“anything?” you tap your chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “how about going to the tanabata festival in your kuromontsuki haori hakama?”

you are trying to see how far he would go to satisfy your demands. usually people wear yukatas to summer festivals, the most casual traditional option, and the most comfortable one in the sweltering heat of summer. a kuromontsuki haori hakama is the highest rank of kimono for men and only worn for formal occasions like weddings and funerals.

but you would kill to see him in one, and it doesn’t hurt to ask.

“that would be a little difficult… how about a haori hakama?” which is less formal than what you suggested, though enough that he will still stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd, but– “fine.” you wanted to see him in a full formal kimono.

“i get the crispy ends of your katsu.” nod. “give me a piggyback ride home.” an eyebrow raise, but nod. “i want the only bottle of grape squash that you guys buy every single time.” nod.

“no more keeping secrets from me.”

“done.”

“i will have to think of more later, you’re currently on probation.” you narrow your eyes at him, gesturing with your hand, i’m watching you. he catches it deftly, getting all up in your space.

your breath hitches as he comes eye to eye with you, only inches to spare. “i’m sorry. i’ll do better, i promise.”

you hear his words, sure, but the thunderous beating of your heart is coming from every direction, deafening. in that moment, you forgot how to speak, tongue twisted in a way that cannot be undone. so you panic, feet kicking out instinctively.

several things happen in quick succession. wakatoshi grunts, curling backwards in pain. the door bursts open as semi and tendo comes running in to defuse the situation. you sit there in shock. tendo starts cackling at the scene in front of him, tears shining in his eyes.

“damn, one after another, y/n, you’re putting these boys down real hard.” he wipes his eyes with laughter.

“it was an accident!”

“sure, sure, if you say so.” he slowly backs out of the room, having a distinctive feeling that you may want to land one on him too.

“get back here, tendo satori! oi, where do you think you are going? you still need to dress toshi’s wounds.” you dash at him.

“back to toshi now, are we? why don’t you do it yourself?” he snickers, running away.

semi shakes his head at the two of you, glancing at his captain who is still recovering from your kick in the nuts. he winces at the thought of it. “you good?”

ushijima looks towards where tendo now has an arm thrown over your shoulders, affectionately ruffling your hair, utterly unfazed by the way you are snapping at him.

“i told you, i am not telling you! it defeats the purpose of what i said to that scum if i told you! get your dirty hands off of me.” you frown at the redhead, and then as if sensing his eyes on you, you point at ushijima. “you, don’t ever pick fights again even if i get dragged into it, it’s not worth it.”

“but he picked a fight with ushijima-kun first.”

“why, you brat. do you want to find out what dirty secrets i know about you?”

“wah, scary, y/n-chan. remind me to never get on your bad side.”

you make a face at tendo, which ushijima finds adorable. his lips quirk in a smile at the scene unfolding in front of them, finally responding to semi’s earlier question.

“yeah. yeah, i think so.”

“ushijima-kun, you’re down bad.”

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damn-stark · 2 years ago

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Chapter 1 Golden girl

Chapter 1 of Moonlight

A/N- The parallels between young Rhaenyra and y/n!! The parallels between young Rhaenyra and y/n!! Anyway, I really hope you guys like this new series. I'm really excited to share it with all of you!

Warning- Swearing, Aegon, FLUFF, LONG CHAPTER.

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

Episode- 1x06

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

A lot of stuff is often restricted to you, like training with swords, sparring, strolling too far alone, and flying far and wide on dragonback. You’re often told what you can’t do and what you can do. You’re told how to behave. And the pressure is never as hard on the boys as it is on you. That’s why you find simple pleasures, and oftentimes they’re secret…at least until your mother figures it out.

Like now, for example, you’re told you can’t swim in the ocean without supervision, but you’re old, and you’re a stronger swimmer. You have confidence in yourself so you dive in the gleaming blue waters and swim blissfully.

You don’t swim too far down, but you swim deep enough to watch in awe as a school of fishes find themselves swimming around you.

You smile at the crabs that crawl away into hiding, you find comfort in the ocean waters embrace, and find yourself tempted when you spot a small spiked shell on the ocean floor.

You don’t know if you should keep your dragon worried and swim down to collect it or swim up to finally leave…

Hm.

Well your grandfather does like to keep what you collect, and you don’t find the necessity to catch your breath yet, so with some strong kicks, you swim down and snatch the shell.

After you secured it you finally decide to swim up to the surface, noticing your dragon halfway in the water as she anticipated your arrival.

“Relax,” you reassure her as you show off the shell. “I wasn’t gone long.”

You admire the shell now that you’re standing on firm sand and can’t help but smile as you admire all the delicate designs.

So intricate and amazing. How can something so small be made?

Your grandfather will be pleased.

“Come on,” you tell your dragon watching you carefully. “Let’s go to mother.”

First, though you dry yourself and shimmy on your dress you had taken off so it wouldn’t get wet. Your hair will—well it’ll dry enough when you’re in the air, so you leave it and quickly climb on your dragon, finding more peace in the calm sky on the back of your beautiful soulmate.

It’s really just perfect, that’s how you’d describe this moment, soaring the white fluffy clouds hundreds of feet off the ground. The chilly breeze sweeping past you with all its might, and the bright shining sun kissing your skin with its warm rays of light.

If you had the choice to just fly all your life without consequence it’s something you’d take it. No royal duties, no man to marry, just your dragon; Astraea, and you flying around the world. That’d be truly perfect.

Alas, much to your misfortune you have to get your head out of the clouds and descend back down to the ground. You have to hop off your dragons back and face life, and responsibilities.

“Princess,” one of your handmaidens interjects at the exact moment your feet hit the ground. “Your mother has given birth.”

You immediately grin with glee and don’t fret to approach the handmaiden whilst you take off your glove from the top of the fingertips with your teeth. “What is it?” You ask in a muffled voice.

“A boy,” the Handmaiden shares.

Another brother…tsk.

Well, he’s here now so there’s no use being upset by not having a sister. Yet again.

“What excellent news,” you rejoice, and peer back at your dragon with a soft smile

Astraea looks back at the same time so you meet her gaze and can’t help but only grin wider as you catch how the sunlight bounces off her purple scales.

Yet the joy is short-lived because you then hear your name uttered by an annoying individual. “Sweetling,” he purrs.

You sigh and roll your eyes to look at the boy, catching your uncle Aegon approaching the dragonpit with a stupid grin on his face.

“I hope your flight was a pleasant one,” he says as he keeps approaching you.

You feign a smile and nod. “It was,” you deadpan and quickly escape to your carriage that’s going to take you home. But first, you greet your other uncle. “Hello, Aemond.”

Unlike Aegon, Aemond isn’t much older than you, he just beats you by a year. And! He, unlike Aegon, is much nicer and respectful, making him your favorite.

“Hello,” Aemond greets you back with a shy wave.

You shoot him a genuine smile and then stop in your tracks to add, “you know, Astraea is almost big enough to saddle two. Perhaps when she is at the right size and you have yet to find a dragon, you can ride with me.”

Aegon scoffs beside his younger brother, but Aemond straightens up and lets his gaze linger before he sighs and responds. “We’ll see.”

You grin and nod. “We will. Now excuse me, I have to see my mother.” You take your first step up to your carriage, but Aegon takes his chance to cut in again.

“Perhaps later we can take a stroll around the gardens? Find ourselves down by the—”

“No Aegon,” you cut him off without shame and don’t even bother to look at him, you just walk into your carriage and slam the door shut.

Thereafter the carriage is ridden through the grande city that is your home, past buildings getting constructed, past workers, and people wandering the dirt streets. You pass visitors strolling through the streets, you pass by different shops that contain some of the same things or completely different things. You pass families that make you wonder what it would be like if you were like one of them, a civilian worried just about living, someone who does not need to question why it is that your younger brother Jacaerys gets to be your mother's heir and not you, her eldest child.

Is it really because you’re a woman? She is one too and she still is going to ascend the throne after your grandfather.

Your father says it’s because your mother doesn’t want to burden you with what she’s forced to now carry. But you don’t really believe it, who knows the truth as to why she didn’t choose you.

Because you’re simply not her favorite? Because you don’t look like your brothers? Because you don’t have brown hair like them, or white skin like theirs because yours more so matches your father's? Because your hair is white like his? And hers?

Why is what you ask yourself all the time.

Sometimes…you wish you would’ve been born a bastard, maybe then you would have inherited the throne.

Regardless, you never ask her, nor will you ever do so.

You never let her see your affliction either, you push it back, always. Like now for example, before you go see her you change out of your riding clothes and wear a lilac-colored gown; with that new change, pushing all your concerns away and putting on a smile that she likes to see on you before knocking on her door.

“Come in,” you hear her voice welcome you in.

You open the door and slowly poke your head inside, catching Ser Harwin inside handing the little newborn babe to your mother.

“Ah, my sweet,” your mother greets and immediately finds the difference in your hair. Yet she doesn’t comment on anything yet. She lets you beam at her and make a beeline toward her now holding the babe on the couch.

“Princess,” you hear Ser Harwin greet from behind you.

You pull your eyes away from the sleeping baby and throw him a mindless greeting. “Hello, Ser Harwin.” You then quickly focus back on your brother and greet him softly. “Hello, you.”

Your mother smiles softly and then looks up at you. “My sweet, meet your brother, Joffrey.”

What an unusual name for him, but he does look like a Joffrey, so you don’t question it.

“You wish to hold him?” She asks you.

You meet her gaze and nod before you reach over so she won’t strain herself, and carefully cradle him in your arms. “Hi,” you greet him again, this time in a softer voice. “I’m your sister.” You giggle softly and look over at your mother. “He’s so adorable and so small.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “Smallest one out of your brothers, and you.”

You hum and shift around slowly, but keep your eyes on him, noticing the small brown hairs on his head. You then steal a glance up at the bulky knight watching you sway the babe and take note that Joffrey also inherited his features…making it another secret to keep.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Ser Harwin interjects.

You keep quiet and hear your mother simply hum in response before he walks out of the room, leaving your mother, Joffrey, and you alone.

“Do you need anything mother?” You ask her and meet her gaze. “More water? Food? A pillow?”

Your mother shakes her head. “No, I’m quite content right now. Thank you.”

You take this time now to slowly sit down beside her and make sure to keep swaying the babe so he won't wake.

“You stink of dragon, and salt,” your mother points out. “I thought I told you that you couldn’t go swimming so far. No one can see you from so far.”

You pass her an assuring look and rebuttal. “Astraea is watching me.”

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “She may not be able to do anything if you drown in deep waters. I won’t be able to do anything if you drown so far away. The currents are strong.”

You bat your lashes so you can get your way. “But grandfather says some of the oldest things lie in the ocean. I just want to see.” You smile at her innocently. And since your mother doesn't have the energy to keep arguing she points out something else.

“I assume you were out flying as well?”

“Yes, but I finished my teachings early so I had time,” you immediately explain to her.

Your mother hums. “Well I hope so, the Septa always likes to complain that you never pay attention.”

You roll your eyes and meet hers. “Well maybe if she didn’t talk so slowly then I’d actually enjoy what she has to teach,” you counter, making your mother laugh.

“Yes, her voice is quite irritating, but I just want you to pay attention to your teachings, okay?” She says.

You let out a soft sigh and nod in agreement. “I’ll try, but if Astraea needs me I simply cannot refuse her.” You look back at your sleeping baby brother and feel your smile soften. “I cannot wait to have a babe of my own.”

“Really?” Your mother questions. “When I was your age all I wanted to do was fly, be with my friends, and dream. I hated the thought of having children.”

You smile as your interest piques and can't help but meet your mother's soft gaze. “Really?” You probe excitedly.

Your mother nods. “Yes, but that all changed when I found out I was having you,” she adds and gently nudges your arm.

You mirror her smile and turn to hand her back the babe so you can be on your feet once more. “Well, I do still want to fly around the world. That would be great,” you tell her and walk around her to stop behind her. “Discover new places. See new waters. Different people.” You draw out a soft breath and pick up her long silver-gold hair to begin braiding it in the way Queen Visenya would wear hers.

“That sounds nice,” your mother goes along with your silly dream. “Perhaps you’ll be like Princess Nymeria.”

The corner of your lips pull to a smirk.

“Yet,” your mother adds on. “How can you voyage the world without finishing any of your teachings? A sailor needs knowledge to read maps for example.”

You roll your eyes and feign a laugh. “Oh haha. Well, I can be like a pirate, or I could travel with my father and have him do all the work.”

Your mother chuckles and nods in agreement. “I bet he would like the idea of being out at sea.”

You hum softly, and then pause after you knit a strand of her hair with the other as you fall serious. “But really, what will I do? I mean…what will be of my life? Queen Alicent says I’m almost at the right age to be married off. Will I have to leave you and be matched to some pampered Lord who just locks me away?”

A deep breath escapes your mother as if ready with a response, but she remains quiet for a moment before she pats the empty space you had sat on before.

You, of course, don’t hesitate and let her hair fall on her back before you take the seat beside her once again.

“I know what it is to want to just hop on your dragon and fly off,” she begins to say whilst she shifts in her seat to try and be closer to you. “I understand what you feel. It’s normal to feel so, but I’ll tell you now something your grandmother Aemma told me when I was young.” She manages to cup your cheek, causing you to draw out a soft breath. “We have royal wombs you and I, my sweet, it is how we serve the realm.” She then presses her forehead against yours, making you smile softly and find comfort in her gesture.

“Besides, you are my daughter,” she adds with a growing smug smile. “You descend from the greatest line, you are the granddaughter of one of the greatest voyagers. I assure you that you won’t sit and do nothing, I promise.”

You mirror her smug smile and with all the trust in the world, you nod in comprehension.

“And,” she continues. “With luck, you won’t be sent far at all.”

You pull back and look at her with a pointed glare. “I don’t want to marry Aegon. I’d rather be sent to the wall than be married to him.”

Your mother chuckles and shakes her head. “Gods no,” she assures you, letting you let out a relieved sigh and lay your head on her shoulder.

“Someone else,” she gives your heart comfort. “I’ll find a match who deserves you, don’t worry,” she whispers and lays her head on yours. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you have a good life.”

——

*LATER*

Most nights, when rain doesn’t fall from the sky, when the clouds don’t cover the stars you like to sneak out of bed and climb up castle towers to watch the stars with the desire for more.

You like to feel the wind and pretend you’re far away, somewhere lost in the sky, or somewhere in the ocean. You like to breathe in the fresh air that hits the towers and watch those few people below walk the streets or just the simple castle grounds. There are some nights when Aemond joins you, not a lot, but it is always him and no one else.

And it seems that tonight is one of those nights.

“Aemond,” you call with glee.

Said boy carefully and quietly climbs up the roof to sit beside you.

“I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” you point out.

Aemond shrugs softly. “I couldn't find sleep. I knew you’d be here so I thought I could at least pass time.”

You smile softly and nod in comprehension before you glance at the sky again. You sit in silence and find comfort in it, he's always someone that you can find comfort in. Without Baela and Rhaena here he's your only best friend, someone you can confide in since it’s different with your brothers since they are young—maybe once they’re older you can behave like friends too and not just like the squabbling siblings you are.

“Do you think,” you begin to ask him out of fear even after your mother's attempt at comfort. “I’ll be sent away?”

Aemond pulls his gaze away from the sky and looks at you whilst you keep your eyes on the stars.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

You sigh and blink to look down. “I mean…I’m almost at the age to get married. Since I won’t inherit the throne or Driftmark, I’ll probably be married off to someone far from here.”

Aemond nods and follows your line of gaze. He’s unable to find something to say for a moment, but it then occurs to him. “We could get married. That way you’d stay here.”

You drift your eyes to him and muster a small soft smile. “We could,” you whisper in relief and feel your smile widen at the thought, but it soon begins to fade as doubt once again overtakes you. “But if we don’t would you run away with me?”

Aemond hesitates and then shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “We have our duties here.”

Your smile completely disappears at his answer, and your gaze drops to your fiddling fingers. “I’d run away with you if you asked,” you mutter and rest your elbows on your knees to rest your chin on your palms. “We could ride Astraea and fly far away.”

“Be what?” Aemond queries.

You shrug. “Whoever we want,” you throw out as if it wasn't obvious. “Pirates. Rich lords. Dragon riders that discover new lands.”

Aemond scoffs. “I don’t have a dragon.”

You look over at him and nudge his arm. “You’ll have one. I know it. There are still many that are unclaimed, my mother says they rest at Dragonstone.”

Aemond meets your gaze and his lips tug to a smile. “If I asked you to fly me there would you?”

You smirk and nod. “Of course!” You sit up to stand on your feet. “Who’d be laughing then, huh?” You try to comfort his own insecurities. “Aegon. That’s who.”

You twirl around and then reach the top of the roof to begin balancing on it as you slowly walk on it. “There’s Sheepstealer, Greyghost, Silverwing, Vermithor, and the scariest of them all, Cannibal!” You exclaim and jump around, causing Aemond to reach his hands out in case you fell.

“Stop that,” he snaps at you while he follows behind you. “You’ll fall.”

You chuckle and turn around again to keep balancing on the top of the roof. “Who would you pick?” You ask.

Aemond hums for a second before he answers with slight excitement. “Vermithor, beside Vhagar, Vermithor is one the largest.”

You peer back and shoot him a smile. “Nice. I’d still win you in a race though.”

Aemond smirks. “Vermithor is larger, he has more experience as well.” He says smugly.

“But Astraea is smaller, not so heavy,” you quickly rebuttal. “So her weight wouldn’t slow her down.”

Aemond playfully rolls his eyes. “I guess we’ll see,” he plays along and then pushes you forward very gently, causing you to stop in your tracks to turn and try to push him, but he steps back with a laugh.

You giggle in response and try to move ahead, but at that moment you catch a glimpse of your father Laenor standing on a balcony below all alone.

“What is it?” Aemond asks as he notices your smile fall.

You lean your head forward to get a better view, catching your father reading a letter. “It’s my father,” you whisper.

Aemond carefully falls beside you and looks out as well to see what you’re seeing.

“Come on,” you urge Aemond and grab his hand to lead him back inside through the window you had climbed out of.

When you're in the safety of the hall you come to a stop and hold your breaths to listen for approaching servants or guards. When you hear no footsteps, or metal clinking against each other you breathe out, and then lead Aemond down the stairs. He makes sure not to let go so he won’t fall behind, or so he can quickly stop you if he hears someone approaching.

It’s only until you approach the door that leads out to the balcony your father is on that Aemond pulls his hand out of your grasp, causing you to turn and face him with a puzzled look.

“Go,” he encourages you. “I’ll go back to my chambers.”

Your eyebrows slowly furrow. “Are you sure? You could join us.” You let him know kindly.

Aemond shakes his head. “It’s okay, he’s your father.”

“My father won’t get us in trouble for being awake so late,” you try to assure him.

But Aemond remains insistent. “It’s quite alright. I’ll see you on the morrow.”

You don’t try and fight him anymore and nod in agreement.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, matching a small soft smile with his words.

You shoot him a sweet smile in return. “Goodnight, Aemond.” You then turn and join your father out on the balcony.

Albeit he doesn’t turn when he hears the door close, so you call out to him softly. “Father?”

Said man lifts his head and peers back. When he realizes it’s you he blinks in slight shock whilst a smile tugs on his lips. “What are you doing here? It's late.”

You make your way to him and shrug. “I couldn’t sleep. And I…saw you down here alone so I wanted to keep you company.”

Rather than countering with disapproval, your father begins to smile. “You were on the roofs weren’t you?” He knows you too well.

Still, you act shocked and clueless, but he sees through you.

“You gave it away when you said “down here”, and you’re fiddling with your fingers.”

You look down and catch your involuntary act and stop right away whilst you stop beside him against the railing.

“I hope you remember what your mother says about being up there,” your father continues with a more strict tone.

“Well,” you quip innocently. “She won’t know if she doesn’t find out.”

Your father scoffs in amusement as his smile widens. “Alright. As long as you're careful though. Okay?”

You rest your hands on the stone railing and nod. “Always,” you assure him.

He hums and then looks ahead, causing his smile to fall and your curiosity to heighten. “Are you okay, father?”

Said man blinks in disbelief at your question. You’ve worried about him before, you, perhaps more than the other children. And that can be because you’re older and understand more, or because you are his only legitimate child. Whatever the reason, you were the closest to him out of the other two kids.

“I just miss my sister,” your father admits.

You hum softly and look up to the starry sky. “I know,” you begin to add softly. “Perhaps it’s not the same, but I miss my cousins Baela and Rhaena too. And when I do, I find comfort in gazing at the sky. I watch the stars and the moon and know that even if they’re far away, we’re still close in some way because regardless of distance, we all look up at the same sky, we all live under the same stars.”

You flicker your eyes to your father and catch a gleam in his eyes while a tender smile paints his face.

“That’s good,” he says softly and reaches over to pat your shoulder. “I’ve never thought of it that way.”

You mirror his smile and look up at the sky. He follows your line of gaze and smiles wider.

“Thank you,” he whispers to the stars.

You look over at him and offer him a sweet grin. “Of course. Now,” you roll out and lean back as you grip onto the railing. “Serious question.”

Your father scoffs softly and probes. “Okay. Share.”

“If I asked you to take me voyaging, would you?” You ask, and turn on your heels to face him excitedly.

“Voyaging?” He questions.

You nod eagerly. “Yes!” You exclaim. “Voyaging. You could teach me how to sail. I’ve asked my grandfather Corlys, but he says I should instead learn how to sew correctly.” You huff.

Your father chuckles softly. “You are terrible.”

You pout. “Well there are better things to do,” you grumble and roll your eyes. “Besides, the Septa is such a prude—Anway…we wouldn't even have to go far, just maybe across the narrow sea?” You bat your lashes so you can try and pursue him more effectively.

“Well,” your father sighs. “I don’t know how your mother would feel about that, but I can tell you one thing, I can teach you how to sail.”

Your eyes widen with joy. “Really?!” You lean forward and grab his arm. “You really mean it father?”

His smirk turns slightly smug and he nods. “I could.”

You squeal and turn to hook your arm around his. “And then you’d teach me how to wield a sword?”

Your father begins to walk you back inside whilst he answers. “Depends how well you master sailing.”

“Alright,” you nod. “Alright, I can accept that.”

“Can you accept going to bed?” Your father rebuttals with a joke. “The hour is late.”

“Hm, I suppose I could. So when will our first lesson be?” You press.

Your father meets your gaze and matches your smirk. “I’ll let you know.”

You smile and nod with contentment.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Soft thrashes echo around the courtyard as your brothers Lucerys and Jacaerys, and uncles Aegon and Aemond train against straw men.

You aren’t really allowed to be watching them, the Septa says that it’s a waste of time, “you’re a Princess.” she says.

Pft, it’s boring going to lessons, besides, you learn far more by watching the boys swing their swords. You like to memorize them and then mirror those same actions at night when you can practice with a wooden sword you stole.

“Soften your knees,” you hear Ser Criston tell Aemond. “Feet light. Keep your feet light and your hands heavy.”

You drop your eyes to Aemond’s feet and proceed to shift your own feet to mirror his stance. He then moves on so you look over at Aegon and watch him swing his sword, but he gets distracted by passing servants so you roll your eyes and focus on Jace.

However, you then get interrupted. “Princess, how are lessons today?”

You jump, and when you peer back you see the friendly face of Ser Harwin walking past you.

Luckily it's not the Septa.

“I suppose well,” you sigh and shrug. “Ser Criston as always picks favorites.”

The knight hums and stops to turn and face you hidden under the shadows. “As always,” Ser Harwin agrees. “Where are you meant to be really?”

You begin to smirk. “Going to study High Valyrian, but I know it well, so I chose to take the long way there.”

Ser Harwin chuckles softly. “Alright, well keep your head low, you know how Ser Criston gets.”

You shoot him a happy smile and nod eagerly. The knight then walks away and joins the men in the courtyard, leaving you in your hiding spot like always. He never minds you secretly watching from the shadows, he's nice that way. Ser Criston on the other hand, “this is no place for a lady. Go.”

He’s such a prude too, he’s also an asshole to your brothers, and to Ser Harwin. Sometimes you wish to just stick a metal sword through his throat so he can shut up.

“…Let’s see if you can touch me,” you hear that same man say as you focus back on the courtyard. “You and your brother.”

You snicker and lift your head up higher to get a better view as Aegon and Aemond begin to fight against Ser Criston. And yes even though he’s an asshole, he’s still an impressive swordsman, you’ve learned a lot from watching him.

It’s also funny seeing him beat Aegon and Aemond.

“Ah,” Ser Harwin interjects. “Weapons up boys. Give your enemies no quarter.”

Ser Criston notices Ser Harwin, and leaves Aemond and Aegon defeated to slowly make his way to Ser Harwin.

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention…Ser Criston.”

Right!

“You question my method of—”

“Ah, young lady there you are!”

Seven Hells!

You jump away from your spot and spin around to face your Septa striding towards you with discontent and judgment.

“I’ve just lost my way,” you lie and begin to head back inside before she can pull your ear. “I was heading to lessons.”

Her footsteps follow you and she quickly counters back immediately. “No, you’ll go to your mother, she’ll know about your wrongdoings.”

Thank the gods! She never punishes you like she tells the Septa she will.

“Hello there sweet niece!”

Seven Hells…

You narrow your gaze and frown with disgust before you look over your shoulder and shoot Aegon a scowl.

He chuckles like always because he thinks it’s some game.

As if.

“Young lady,” the Septa begins to scold you as she quickens her pace to reach you. “He is the prince and your uncle. That is rude, and not ladylike whatsoever. Turn around and greet him back.”

You draw in a deep and annoyed breath and stop in your tracks to turn around. He’s already looking at you and so is Aemond. “Good Morrow, uncle Aegon,” you greet him with a monotone voice.

Aegon snickers and Aemond joins in this time. You’d counter, but the Septa would only scold you again, so you pick up the side of your skirt to just turn on your heels and walk back inside.

Once you reach your mother's chambers you’re relieved to see her, but the Septa walks in and snitches.

“Princess Rhaenyra, I found the Princess at the training yard once again, watching the boys train instead of attending her lessons. Something must be done about her wild behavior, it is not ladylike.”

Since you have your back turned to her you begin to smirk with pride.

“Ah,” your mother answers, “I’m sorry, Septa. I’ll have a word with her immediately, thank you for bringing the issue to my attention.”

The Septa hums in agreement before she excuses herself and leaves, letting you swipe the book off the table to turn and walk over to your mother to give her a hello kiss on the cheek before you turn your attention to your one-day-old brother. “Good Morrow, Joffrey, it’s so nice to see you.”

“If anyone asks, say I…” your mother trails off as you sit by her and open the book. “I kept you from flying for a week.”

You giggle and nod as you turn the pages. “Okay.”

“How are they doing?” She refers to your brothers.

“Uh, Ser Criston as always ignores them, but Ser Harwin just joined them so they should finally begin to learn more,” you share. “How are you feeling?” You ask and look at her with concern.

Your mother glances at your brother wide awake and staring at her before she gives you an answer. “I’m quite in pain today, the milk is quite uncomfortable.”

You frown since you can’t do anything to help her. The only thing you can offer her are words and attempts at some kind of aid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Is there anything I can do?”

Your mother meets your gaze and begins to smile softly. “No.” She shakes her head. “I’m quite fine. The girls should be here soon.”

Regardless of what she said you put the book down and walk over to the small table by the door to pour some water for her.

“I was thinking,” your mother interjects. “How would you like to accompany me when I attend the small council meetings? You could serve wine, as I did once.”

You meet her gaze with a slightly shocked look. “Really?” You ask as you walk back to her. “You mean it?”

Your mother nods. “Of course. They’re quite dreadful sometimes, but you want to be more involved so that should help.”

Your smile widens as you turn giddy. “Well, I would really love that. I think it’s a swell idea. Thank you, mother.”

Your mother offers you a happy smile and watches you move a small table closer to her so it’s easier to grab the water while she’s holding Joffrey.

“Thank you, my sweet girl,” she thanks you and caresses your hand as you join her back on the couch. “Now, would you read to me? I wouldn’t like you to fall behind on your Valyrian.”

This time without fuss you open the book back up and begin reading the words written on the pages. There’s a lot you know already, it’s just some pronunciation that you can’t get right at times, but your mother does offer her support so it makes it easier.

Not so soon after albeit, the Wetnurse comes so she steals her attention away, and since the topic isn’t as attention seeking to you, you keep reading.

That is until one of her handmaidens walks in looking quite distressed. “Princess.”

You lower your book to your lap and listen intently.

“There’s been an incident in the yard. Ser Harwin got in a fight with Ser Criston after an argument broke.”

You swallow thickly and quickly snap your eyes to your mother, noticing her smile had fallen and her gaze lost its happy gleam.

“Okay, thank you,” your mother directs at her handmaiden before she stands up and hands Joffrey to the Wet Nurse. “Do as I said.”

The Wetnurse leaves and your mother turns to face you. “You can stay here if it pleases you, my sweet, I’ll be back,” she says.

Without questioning her antics you nod to assure her and choose to stay in her chambers as she leaves through a secret door she has in her room; one reason being you really didn’t want to go to your room, and two, well you're curious to know what happened.

However, you might have an idea as to what led to that fight. Ser Criston probably provoked Ser Harwin with insinuations about your brothers. That’s the only reason why you’d think Ser Harwin would risk his position and hit a member of the Kingsguard.

But then again, Ser Criston deserves to get hit, he’s a dick. Yes hitting him probably only adds fire to the rumors about your brothers and Ser Harwin, but no one knows how insufferable Ser Criston is to your brothers, you, or your mother. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to, his dirty looks, and his cold shoulder when he shows kindness to Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, and Queen Alicent is enough to let you know he doesn’t like either of you.

Who knows why?

Regardless, your mother returns shortly after with an even more glum look painted on her face, meaning she overheard nothing good.

“To ease the pain, Princess,” her handmaiden lets her know as she rinses the cloth.

Your mother remains quiet and lets the handmaiden help her, whilst she now breaks her silence to speak to you. “Why don’t you keep reading to me, yes? You were doing so good.”

“Okay.” You give in to do as she says without probing, even if you’re dying to know what she heard, and even as singing begins to echo out in the hall, getting louder and louder, and also recognizable as the people get closer.

The moment you know it’s your father and his…Paramour, singing, you pause and end up sharing a knowing glance with your mother before the doors open and your father stumbles in with Ser Qarl.

“My dear wife,” your father greets with a chuckle. “My beautiful daughter.”

You look over at the man and offer him a sweet smile, noticing that he in fact is drunk; you can tell by his happy smile and his unbuttoned coat.

“Princess,” Ser Qarl greets your mother and then looks over at you. “Princess.”

“Hello, Ser Qarl,” you greet back, and then leave your book as you stand up since going off by the hardened look on your mother's face, what follows seems private and unpleasant.

“Oh…I fell down,” your father interjects and then snickers.

Yeah, he’s incredibly drunk. Again.

“I’m going to check on my brothers,” you let your mother know before you press a kiss on her cheek.

“Okay,” she answers and returns a kiss to your cheek. You then walk over to the door and stop by your father.

“Bye father,” you say with a smile regardless of his current state.

“Oh you’re leaving,” he counters and grabs your arm. “Why don’t you stay?” He turns to face your mother and then looks at Ser Qarl. “You should have heard what she told me last night. It was the sweetest thing.”

You grab his arm to gently slide your arm from his grasp. “I’m going to check on the boys, father, really,” you cut him off and go on your tiptoes to press a peck on his cheek. “Goodbye.”

“I’ll see you later then, my darling,” he doesn’t argue—or he just doesn’t have the right mind right now to try. Which benefits you, he’s drunk, he gets quite annoying when he’s so drunk so it’s good he didn’t insist.

Yet the curiosity in you does want you to stay back and listen to what your mother was going to tell him—but no, you can’t. Besides, she probably would’ve told you to leave either way….

That doesn’t mean you can’t just snoop.

No, you can’t. You’ll know soon. You can’t give in to temptation even if it’s killing you. You can’t!

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“…It is Lord Blackwood’s contention, therefore, that the Brackens moved the boundary stones in the dead of the night and put their horses to graze in his field.”

Okay, yes, the excitement of accompanying your mother to these small council meetings has quickly washed away. All they do is talk and talk over insignificant matters.

“Why was this issue not brought before Lord Grover?” Queen Alicent asks. “Has he grown so feeble he cannot settle a quarrel over rocks?”

The Lords and others have stopped asking for wine halfway through this damned meeting, making for a dull wait.

“I’ve heard a tale that Lord Grover’s son now rules Riverrun in all but name,” a Lord adds.

“Well, he is also a Tully and this remains a Tully problem,” Alicent says.

“I would agree,” your grandfather interjects, letting Lord Tyland now cut in.

“If we may move on, my lords—”

“And yet,” your mother cuts him off, continuing with the previous matter. “The Brackens and the Blackwoods will use any excuse to spill each other's blood. So this dispute bears looking into. There will be countryfolk who know where the lines have been drawn for generations.”

“That is easy enough,” the Lord Hand agrees, causing Queen Alicent to scoff quietly in disagreement.

“Of course.” She shakes her head and takes a sip of wine with that same bitchy attitude she always bestows your mother, you, and your siblings. She doesn’t try to hide it either, making for yet someone else you dislike.

“Ser Tyland,” the Hand returns to his matter.

“Uh, we should address the latest developments in the Stepstones, my Lords.”

Your grandfather groans and comments with discontent. “Will we ever be shut of that blasted place?”

“If you ask me, I think the Blackwoods have the upper hand,” Lord Beesbury randomly cuts in with a topic already dealt with.

“We’ve moved on to the Stepstones, Lord Beesbury,” the Maester informs the old lord, causing you to look over at your mother to meet her gaze and share an amused look you quickly hide.

“And the Triarchy’s new alliance with Dorne,” Ser Tyland adds and makes sure to say it loud enough so Lord Beesbury can hear, only making you drop your head to hide your stifled smile.

“I was hoping our negotiations with Sunspear might persuade them to see reason,” your grandfather adds before coughing into his cloth. “To trust a Martell is to be disappointed.”

“And where, I wonder, is our Prince Daemon?” A lord asks. “Or I suppose I should call him King, as he styled himself when he won a battle there…once.”

You see the man smirk faintly as he fills with pride at his own comment only because the man he speaks of isn’t here. You’ve heard of his, uh, rash behavior, so you’d like to hear the Lord dare say the same thing with your uncle here.

He wouldn’t.

“…we have left it undefended,” you focus back on the conversation as your mother speaks. “There should’ve been fortifications built, watchtowers, a fleet of ships, a garrison of soldiers sent to hold our ground.”

“We cannot afford it,” Alicent counters. “Our coffers are great, but not infinite. We must consider the cost to our subjects.”

“I must agree—”

“The cost of war is greater,” your mother cuts Lord Beesbury off. “But we have been lax and the old monster now lifts its head.”

You drift your gaze to Alicent to wait for what she’d respond with, but a second of silence passes as she just glowers at your mother before she responds with ignorance. “Let us be finished.”

“Yes,” your grandfather breathes out with exhaustion, letting the other lords get up.

Albeit your mother stays seated and continues the meeting as everyone is out of their seats. “Wait. I wish to speak.”

You blink in confusion and focus on her as everyone except Alicent sits back down, and she continues.

“I have felt the…strife…” your mother begins to say. “Between our families of late, my Queen. And for any offense given by mine, I apologize. But we are one house. And long before that, we were friends.”

You glance at Alicent and see her expression has not softened whatsoever, she remains shooting glares and looking uninterested in what your mother has to say.

“My son Jacaerys will inherit the Iron Throne after me,” your mother adds, making you look down at your hands clasped together and sigh softly with…uneasiness. “I propose we betroth him to your daughter, Helaena. And my only daughter will inherit Dragonstone when I ascend the Throne…”

You blink and look over at your mother at the mention of your name, feeling your face slowly release the tension you began to have on your jaw.

“I propose we betroth her to your son, Aemond.” She offers in hopes for peace.

And at the sound of this news, finally, your interest is piqued, and a soft smile breaks on your face. Not only that but your grandfather glances over at you to share the same happiness with his smile.

“Ally ourselves,” your mother tries to further pursue the Queen. “Once and for all. Let them rule together.”

“A most judicious proposition,” your grandfather agrees with a smile.

Yet when you look over at Alicent, you don’t see that same joy.

“Additionally,” your mother goes on. “If Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs your son Aemond will have his choice of them…a symbol of our goodwill.”

Your smile widens as you feel glad for Aemond having more chances to bond with his own dragon.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent calls out with a serious tone.

You look over at Alicent and wait for what she has to say on the matter, but instead, she goes quiet and just watches your mother, causing you to follow her line of gaze and notice that your mother is leaking milk.

“Oh,” your mother says as she covers her breasts. “Seven Hells.”

You glance around to check if you have anything you could give her so she can cover up and avoid the stares from the men, but you have nothing to hand her. And that only makes you feel bad for her.

“My dear,” your grandfather interjects. “A dragon's egg is a handsome gift.”

“The King and I thank you for your offer and we will consider it duly.” Alicent bounces on after her husband. “You must rest now, husband.” She moves on to your grandfather's side, urging him to get up to finally end the meeting.

“Yes,” he agrees and gets up. Before he turns to walk away he stops before you and caresses your chin with a sweet smile on his face. “Have a pleasant day, darling.”

You beam at him and gently grasp his hand. “And you grandfather.”

Before he leaves and takes his hand away, you quickly take the shell from your pocket that you collected not so long ago and pass it to him.

When he feels what he’s now holding he pulls his hand away and glances at the delicate shell and chuckles softly. “Oh, why, what a wonderful surprise. Thank you.” He whispers excitedly and pats your shoulder before he’s whisked away, making the other lords scurry out after him, and ultimately leaving your mother and you to leave the room last.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention the proposal before my Sweet. Do you like it though?” She asks you as you walk with her to her chambers.

You turn your head to meet her gaze and nod, noticing she looks even more upset now than seconds ago. Her gaze also looks distant.

“Yes, I do,” you assure her so she can know that she at least got someone to agree with her. “Aemond and I are rather good friends. He’s very nice to me.”

Your mother blinks and focuses on you to offer you a faint smile. “Good, that makes me happy. You’ll make a good pair.”

You glance ahead and feel even more giddy at the thought of telling him, and feel especially more happy at the idea that you wouldn’t have to leave after all.

“Do you think the Queen will accept?” You can’t help but ask. “Grandfather seems quite content with the proposals.”

Your mother shrugs. “I hope she does, but we'll see.”

You hope she does, you really hope so.

“May I go tell him?” You blurt with a growing smile.

Your mother notices your joy and can’t help but smile, albeit you do notice it is a bit strained as her attention wavers between you and her thoughts. “Yes, go on, but remember it’s not official yet.”

You shoot her a beaming grin before you pick up your gowns skirt to run up the stairs and hurry to Aemond’s chambers where you know he’ll be at this time of day. Once you finally reach his quarters you knock once and don’t wait a second before you knock repeatedly until the moment the door opens and he’s there with an annoyed expression.

“I assumed it was you with that annoying knocking,” he remarks.

You beam at him and then grab his arm to pull him out of his chambers since you aren't allowed to be in his quarters alone. “Guess what?” You ask in a sing-song voice while you begin to walk down the hall.

Aemond sighs deeply. “You know I hate playing this game with you.”

You roll your eyes and ignore his comment to share the news. “I was at the small council meeting and received glorious news.”

Aemond finally gets his interest piqued and looks at you with a curious stare, whilst you begin to only smile wider.

“My mother proposed that we get married and rule Dragonstone,” you share giddily.

Aemond’s eyes slowly widen, and you notice he swallows thickly.

“Isn’t that great?” You probe and grab his hand. “That means I wouldn’t have to leave and we won’t have to be apart.”

Aemond’s gaze lingers on yours for a moment without any reaction whatsoever. It was beginning to discourage you, but he slowly begins to smile; it’s a faint gesture, but he does smile and you take it as a good sign.

“Yes,” he agrees softly. “That’s good news. What did my mother say?”

Your smile falters at that question, but you keep trying to remain hopeful. “She said she’d think about it. I hope she agrees. I don’t think I want to marry anyone else truthfully.” You look ahead and let his hand go to clasp yours.

“Yes,” Aemond comments. “Me neither.”

A heat grows on your cheeks, and you feel so flustered that you almost can’t talk, but you add softly. “Anyway, that’s all the worthwhile news I had to share. I hope your mother agrees.”

“Me too,” Aemond agrees, heightening your excitement and causing it to last all day.

It's such a bubbling excitement that you could hardly sleep. That's all that invaded your mind, that proposal and the hope that they’d accept so you wouldn't have to leave, and so you wouldn’t marry anyone else but your best friend.

However, as that excitement shone over you, a dark cloud soon lurked. Besides the pain you know your mother feels, there’s that dark stormy cloud that still looms over her, only now it’s far more unruly and out of control, causing your shining excitement to slowly dim.

Especially when she wouldn't let you leave as Ser Harwin came to her chambers to say his goodbyes before leaving for Harrenhal.

Your assumption was right, he did fight Ser Criston because of insinuations. And yes, it doesn’t prove anything, they could pass it as just a snap of emotions on Ser Harwin’s part, but he's leaving regardless.

“…be good to your mother and sister, lads,” you hear Ser Harwin tell both Lucerys and Jacaerys. “I’ll visit when I can.” His leather creaks as he stands up. “But that may be some time.”

Quick footsteps sound on the floor, causing you to look up from your book and catch Jacaerys approaching your mother.

“Jace,” she mutters as she begins to caress the back of his head.

Ser Harwin then follows after your brother with that same soft look he always seemed to have around them, your mother, and even you.

“I will return,” the Knight tells your brother before he lifts his chin. “I promise.”

Your brother nods, letting Ser Harwin part away to approach your mother, but as he does, you look back at your book and pretend to read since you can’t actually bring yourself to focus.

Silence follows for a moment before you hear a kiss and then sweet words that follow by the same man. “I will be a stranger when we meet again.”

More silence follows, causing you to slowly lift your eyes, noticing that Ser Harwin and your mother were just holding each other's gazes. It was a gleaming gaze from him, you can’t read hers since her back is facing you, but you did know she cared for him, so you imagine it's as hurt as his.

But even still them looking at each other with so much tenderness and longing makes you wish for something as passionate as what they had. You want someone to look at you like how Ser Harwin looks at your mother, soft and lovingly.

“Princess,” he bows his head softly before his eyes begin to drift past her shoulder to where you are, so you hastily pretend to be reading once more and let him approach you before you look up and act clueless.

“Farewell sweet Princess, we’ll see each other again someday. But until then, may you let no one change who you are.” He offers you the same sweet smile he had given your brothers, so you can't help but offer him a kind smile as well before a response.

“Farewell Ser Harwin, may your journey home be pleasant.”

The knight offers you one last smile before he turns to collect his stuff to finally leave once and for all. Once he makes it outside though, Jacaerys runs after Ser Harwin but comes to a stop just past the chamber doors. Your mother follows and they both watch the Knight walk away.

“We will exchange letters by raven,” your mother assures Jacaerys. “Won’t that be fun?”

“Why do I look different from my sister?” Jacaerys bluntly asks your mother, causing you to blink in disbelief and straighten up to keep listening. “Is Harwin Strong my father? Am I a bastard?”

Your mother looks back to check if Lucerys is listening, but he isn’t; he's too distracted by his own thing.

“You are a Targaryen,” your mother assures your brother. “Same as your sister. That’s all that matters.”

Jacaerys says nothing in return, he doesn’t look content with her response, but it lets your mother press a kiss on his forehead before urging him back inside and following shortly after.

And now that is dealt with you close your book and get up to try and leave. “May I take my leave, mother? I wanted to go out to the gardens with Helaena.”

Your mother's gaze snaps to you and she swallows thickly before she approaches you with an even darker cloud that begins to creep toward you now.

“I need to tell you something,” she says and grabs your shoulder before cupping your cheek. “We’re going to be leaving.”

Just like that the cloud fully looms over you now, basking you in its darkness and gloom. “What?” You gasp in disbelief.

“My sweet please,” she mutters quietly. “Make a good example for your brothers.”

You draw in a deep breath and only frown deeper.

“It’s for the best,” she tries to convince you without making too much of a fuss. “Our time here has come to an end.”

You shake your head. “But what of the proposals? Aemond?” You argue.

“If Alicent agrees then you’ll come back when you’re older, okay?” She tries to assure you. “You can always exchange letters.”

You let out a shaky sigh, and lose your gaze on the floor as you begin to bite the inside of your cheek. “And grandfather?” You ask.

Your mother lets out a soft sigh, it’s shaky, but she responds as best as she can. “We’ll send ravens. We’ll be better at Dragonstone.”

If this is going to happen, if you are going to leave here then there’s only one thing that can assure you. “Will we leave together?” You ask and slowly meet her gaze. “All of us? Even father?”

Your mother caresses your cheek and nods. “Of course. We’re all going home.”

Home.

It’s only home as long as your family is there with you. So as long as that’s intact then it’s okay. You’ll be happy to go home.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne

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frootiest-loopdee-doo · 4 months ago

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Fop Peri fic concept incoming

I’m just gonna start posting the fic ideas I get bc 80% of the time I don’t write them, and I don’t mind letting other people have and use them. Hell, you don’t even have to credit me. I’m stalking all the FOP tags so if you write it I’ll see it. I won’t ask for credit, I’ll fucking SAVOR reading it.

Fic idea #1 Dale/Peri

“Peri’s Master Plan” or “I Can Fix Him” is what I’d call this.

First, Peri becomes dev’s babysitter. This can be set before the finale, or it can be au where dev never lost peri, or it can actually be after dev left peri. It just changes the setup a bit. If Peri is still Dev’s godparent he’ll have to be extra careful when hiding all of this from him. If he’s no longer dev’s godparent, this is his way of staying in dev’s life bc he cares abt the little shit!

His reason for becoming dev’s official babysitter even if he’s still dev’s godparent probably would so that he doesn’t have to hide whenever he’s with dev and also because Dale doesn’t screen the sitters ever so Dev probably has had some pretty awful ones.

Basically, dale starts hitting on the “babysitter”. Peri is initially disgusted, as you’d probably expect. He puts up with it though, for Dev.

Peri remembers a romance book about a beautiful female protagonist falling in love with and “fixing” an evil older man, and gets an idea about how he can help dev! If it’s in a human book it has to be something that could actually work with humans right? Why would it say it’s written by a bestselling author otherwise? This is a great idea!

Peri starts to go along with it, flirting with Dale, doing whatever it takes to make the guy fall in love. Peri overtime uses this as leverage to try and teach Dale why child neglect is bad (crazy idea). Dale does fall in love. Does peri? It can go either way. I’d say yes, I think that’s the most interesting way this can go.

Different routes this story could ultimately take, options A. B. and C.:

A. Dale changes for the better, though slowly. Maybe Dev Dale and peri do sort of family bonding. The huge conflict here though is that Peri definitely isn’t allowed to be in a relationship with a human, much less his (former or current) godchild’s dad. Will love prevail? Find out next time on dragon ball z ass fic here.

B. Dale’s treatment of dev seems to improve, and Peri is feeling pretty awesome about that. However, when talking to Dev, Peri realizes that Dale is only being a better dad when Peri is around- basically faking it to keep seeing Peri. Big angst. Peri confronts Dale- and honestly you can go as light or dark on the angst in this confrontation scene. Me personally, I’m depraved so if I ever write this it will probably be as dark as possible (I’m mentally unstable friends!).

C. Peri succeeds for the most part, but he doesn’t love Dale truly. This is eating away at him. He stays for Dev. He’d planned to leave when Dale got better, but as he understands the human condition more he realizes that the odds of Dale continuing to be a better dad are very low if he leaves. Angst, angst, angst.

Obviously Peri would try to hide the relationship from Dev at least at first in pretty much all of these. Dev would probably find out by accident. This could be done differently though, maybe dev knows early on. Maybe peri doesn’t hide it well.

Also, obviously you can take a different route than A. B. or C.

Feel free to be inspired by this rant. Feel free to steal the ideas here. Again, if you do, I’ll probably find it. I’ll probably read it. I’ll probably be very happy. Don’t worry about credit. Actually, don’t credit me even if you want to 😭😭😭

#peri cosma #fop a new wish #dale dimmadome #fairly oddparents #dev dimmadome #fairly odd parents a new wish

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brokaw22 · 4 months ago

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Fic: Times Change

Title: Times Change

Author: Brokaw22/Dragonprincess1988

Rating: T

Story Synopsis: Dick didn't realize how much things have changed between him and Tim until he witnesses the drastic differences personally.

AO3

ff.net

Dick abruptly slams into the unyielding surface of a rooftop, and it takes him a second to realize that he’s not in Gotham anymore. He scrambles to his feet and nearly sways with the sudden head rush. Dick is trying to figure out what just happened, but, before he can get his bearings, he hears eerily familiar laughter and a voice that sends shivers down his spine. “You’ll have to catch me first, little brother!”

Dick slinks further into the shadows and ducks down behind a chimney in time to see an extremely familiar Robin and Nightwing dashing over the adjacent rooftops. Dick doesn’t know what’s happening at first. He has a few theories, but it’s a toss-up between this being a different universe and time travel. However, the moment that he sees Robin smirking as he pulls off a distinctly Tim move to cut Nightwing off, Dick starts leaning towards time travel, especially because he remembers this.

He remembers skidding to a stop, flipping over Tim, and the astonishment and pride that he felt as Tim managed to tag his boot before dashing off again. It’s odd viewing the entire interaction from the outside, but Dick finds himself oddly fascinated about it all. After all, he hasn’t seen that particular smirk or that smile on Tim’s face in so long that he can’t help but trail after both Robin and Nightwing. He tells himself that he’s just trying to confirm that this is, indeed, time travel, but, the fact of the matter is, Dick just wants to watch and reminisce about an infinitely simpler time.

Dick beats both Nightwing and Robin to the rooftop where Nightwing will tackle Robin to the ground and force him into a full-body hug, and then praise Tim for being so sneaky in about a minute or so, assuming that this is, indeed, time travel. Dick finds a great place to observe the whole thing and waits. He isn’t the least bit disappointed as he watches Robin desperately try to dodge the tackle and fail spectacularly. Dick’s close enough to hear everything being said just in case he landed somewhere other than his past.

“You’re so sneaky, little brother. You nearly had me back there, and that boot tag was especially clever.” Dick watches with an odd sort of enthrallment as Nightwing grins and ruffles Robin’s hair.

Tim scrunches up his nose in a self-deprecating sort of way. “Yeah, but I still flubbed that landing.”

Dick shakes his head at the comment. Sometimes he forgets how hard Tim used to be on himself. Nightwing, on the other hand, merely squeezes the kid tighter. “Hey, don’t worry about it. You’ll get it.” Dick winces as even he can hear the unsaid ‘eventually.’

Tim sighs heavily as he extricates himself from Nightwing’s embrace. “Or so I’ve been told.”

Dick can tell that Nightwing is rolling his eyes behind the mask, but that might just be because he remembers doing the exactly same thing at this moment. Nightwing doesn’t comment on it as he lazily slings an arm over Robin’s shoulders. “So, little brother, what brings you to town?”

Robin shrugs and glances away. Dick can tell that Tim has a lot on his mind, but he knows that getting Tim to open up about it is going to take more than a casual conversation. Hell, it always does. Dick is starting to doubt if this is genuinely his past. After all, he truly can’t remember being naive enough to believe that Tim would honestly answer. “Nothing, if you’re busy I can head back to Gotham.”

Nightwing shakes his head as he reels Robin into another hug, using the arm around his shoulders. “Hey, no, I love having you here. Bludhaven can get pretty damn lonely. I was just wondering how you escaped the big guy.”

Tim snickers as he shakes his head and fully leans into the hug, which is something that older Tim hasn’t done in a long time. “Only one of us feels the need to escape him.”

Nightwing shrugs as he ruffles Robin’s hair again, and Tim doesn’t even bother to duck out from underneath the offending hand. Dick didn’t realize how much he’s missed being allowed to casually touch Tim until this very moment. They haven’t hung out in forever, and when they do Tim does a fairly decent job of keeping his distance… in more ways than one. “True enough, little brother. Tell you what, I’ll fill you in on what’s going on with me and the Haven if you catch me up on what’s going on with you.”

Tim seems to consider it for a moment, before breaking out into a mischievous grin. “You buy the pizza, I pick the toppings, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Nightwing grimaces playfully as he punches Robin’s arm. Dick suddenly remembers that Tim always did have the worst ideas for topping combinations. “You drive a hard bargain, mister, but you’ve got yourself a deal. Race you back?”

The words aren’t even completely out of Nightwing’s mouth before Robin leaps off of the rooftop and onto the next. “Catch me, if you can, Wing.”

Dick follows them from a safe distance, watching with a deep frown as the two of them laugh, joke, and play the whole way. He remembers what it was like to have this kind of easy friendship with Tim. He just didn’t notice how much he missed it until now.

Dick isn’t the least bit surprised to see his old apartment come into view as the other two make a beeline for it. He waits until they’re both settled inside before swinging by and placing a micro-directional mic on the window. He’d be appalled at how easy it is if it wasn’t for his future tech and all of that.

Dick finds a good place to perch and listen. He still doesn’t know if this is necessarily time travel yet, but, if this is an alternate reality, then it’s damn close to his own… or, at least, close to his own world’s past. “So, little brother, I believe you were gonna catch me up on your life.”

Tim sighs heavily and Dick can hear the crack and hiss of a can of Zesti being opened through the directional mic. Dick can’t remember the last time that he saw Tim drink anything other than water or coffee. He wonders when that changed too.

“Dad and Dana left on their trip. Dana called earlier to let me know that they arrived and everything. She tried to get Dad to talk to me, but he was too busy arguing with the guy handling their bags. Dana said that she would have him call me later, but I told her not to worry about it and to just have fun. Is it wrong that I hope that she forgets?”

Tim pauses to take a sip of his drink. “I mean, they’re supposed to be having fun… not making international calls for small talk. I know Dad will probably forget, but Dana tends to keep track of everything he fails to remember to do, though I don’t know how. I just don’t think that they should waste their trip worrying about it, you know?”

Dick’s brow furrows as he listens in. He remembers this conversation… or, at least, one like it. He remembers thinking how sweet it was that Tim was so worried about something like that, but now he knows better. Tim wasn’t worried about his father and stepmother having a good time on their trip. Or, perhaps, more accurately, that wasn’t the only thing that he was worried about.

Tim was afraid to hope. He didn’t want to believe that his father would remember to call, only to be crushed when he didn’t… or worse refused, despite his wife’s nagging. It took a long time to learn that simple truth about Tim. The kid would rather be forgotten than outright rejected.

Dick sighs to himself as he listens to Nightwing’s hum of consideration. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it, little brother. I’m sure they’ll have a good time and you can get a break too, right?” Tim makes a sound of agreement, and Nightwing continues, “Now, what’s been going on in Robin’s life?”

Dick shakes his head and wonders if that’s the real difference between then and now. He used to just let everything go, especially things that he didn’t know how to address. Now, however, he seems to always be arguing with everyone, unable to let things go in a way that reminds him of a certain someone with pointy ears. It’s more than a little disconcerting, but Tim’s sudden laughter draws Dick’s attention back to the apartment.

Dick can see Tim through the window, lounging in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. He can’t recall the last time that he saw Tim in anything other than a suit for WE or his Red Robin attire. “Robin’s been busy, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle.”

Nightwing chuckles as he ruffles the kid’s hair again. “I’ll bet. Anything specific you wanna tell me?”

Tim shrugs. “The team has been doing quite well, but I think that’s mostly because we haven’t had anything big to deal with recently. I know Bart and Kon are getting bored, but I think it’s good for us, ya know?” Dick takes a second and tries to recall the last time that older Tim has even mentioned his team -- never mind actually seeing or speaking to them -- and he can’t honestly remember anything recently.

Nightwing smiles as he leans further into Tim’s side. “Ah, the good old days of rescuing cats and helping old ladies across the street.”

Tim scoffs as he elbows Nightwing in the side. “Oh right, like you didn’t stop to help that old lady on 2nd Street.”

Nightwing merely shrugs. “Guilty as charged.”

All of a sudden, Tim abruptly folds his arms over his chest and glares at Nightwing. It breaks Dick’s heart that this is probably the facial expression that he’s the best acquainted with now of days. “Hey, weren’t you supposed to be ordering a pizza?”

Nightwing laughs as he flips onto his hands and walks on them towards wherever he left his phone. “Okay, okay, you caught me. Foiled again, I tell ya! Now, what disgusting topping combo are we trying?”

Tim smirks as he rubs his hands together evilly. “I’m thinking go with a classic, so my favorite.”

Dick rolls his eyes as Nightwing groans. He wonders if this version of himself knows that he got off easy. “Fine; one Canadian bacon, onion, and artichoke pizza coming up. Anything else?”

Tim hums in thought for a second. “Feeling like breadsticks?”

Nightwing shrugs as he flips back onto his feet. “Sure, why not? You staying over or do I need to take you back?”

Tim grins easily as he shows off his backpack. “I was actually planning to stay the whole weekend if that’s okay with you?” The sudden reminder that Tim used to initiate unexpected weekend visits leaves a sour taste in Dick’s mouth.

The smile that breaks out onto Nightwing’s face is one that Dick worries is only a fading memory. “That is more than okay with me. Hell, if I didn’t have to work, and B didn’t need you back home at some point, I’d keep you for the whole week.” Dick breathes out a heavy breath. He can’t remember the last time that Tim stayed over, even when injured Tim tends to leave as soon as he’s able.

Tim beams brightly as he begins dumping an unholy amount of snacks onto Nightwing’s coffee table. Dick can’t recall the last time that Tim was this happy around him. “Great, so before you order, do you want to start with bad plot-good action or good plot-bad action for the movie?”

Nightwing stares at the two movies that Tim is holding up with obvious indecision. “Oh, such a hard choice… hmm… how about bad plot first? I do so love explosions, little brother. You know, when I’m not in the middle of them.”

Tim nods and turns away, and Dick’s left wondering what the hell he’s still doing sitting here watching them. He knows that he should probably leave and try to find a way back home, or, at the very least, do some real research into whether this is the past or not, but he can’t tear himself away from the scene. No matter how much watching it unfold is killing him.

Dick remembers what it was like to know exactly what Tim needed, and how to get him to open up about what was going on in his life. He remembers knowing exactly what kind of deals he needed to make to convince Tim to talk about himself in more than just a passive sort of way. Dick remembers being able to coax Tim into discussing what was truly going on inside of Tim’s head by merely forcing him into an impromptu movie night, staying beside him, and reassuring him that Dick cared. In fact, he remembers a lot of things, but what he doesn’t remember is when exactly it all changed.

Dick doesn’t know when he lost his ability to just talk to Tim… really talk to him. After all, Tim still gives him small smiles and assures him that it would be great to come, hang out, and punch guys on trains. However, Tim also never intentionally makes the time to do so. Dick can’t remember the last time that Tim was in the same city as him without some sort of crisis shoving the whole family together. The thought is a worrisome one.

After all, it’s not as if Dick hasn’t given him the invite. More importantly, Dick doesn’t remember the last time that he spoke with Tim about anything beyond small talk or work, and he hates it. Evidently, his little brother has been playing him -- like Tim plays everyone -- and Dick obviously has been falling for it. He should know better.

Dick’s attention is abruptly brought back to the two people in the apartment when he hears nearly deafening laughter. “No way, how in the world did you manage that? And, more importantly, why in the world would you let Bart drive?”

There’s another crack and a hiss as another can of Zesti is opened, and Dick tries hard not to picture the purple can that used to be a staple in his refrigerator. He doesn’t know when he stopped stocking it for this exact purpose, or even why, but the sudden realization that he hasn’t purchased any in seemingly forever leaves him feeling rather morose. “First, the batarang budget, and second, he was rather persistent.”

There’s more laughter now as Nightwing all but drags Tim into a full-body hug. “Oh man, you let him drive to shut him up?”

Suddenly, Dick remembers this conversation. He remembers exactly how impressed and astounded he was to hear that Tim smuggled a Batmobile to San Francisco. Now he’s certain that this is definitely the past, and that just makes him feel worse. Dick’s lost more than he ever realized, and being confronted by it all now isn’t sitting well with him. He just wishes that he knew what exactly happened and how he could return to his previous relationship with Tim.

However, he doesn’t get very long to dwell on it. The next thing that Dick knows, there’s a sudden flash of bright light, and the world is tilting. For the second time this evening, Dick falls onto a rooftop and barely manages to catch himself before his body smacks into the unforgiving surface.

He glances around and notes that all of the buildings are exactly where they should be. He’s returned to Gotham, however, whether it’s the right Gotham or not remains to be seen. Dick swiftly makes his way back to the cave, stopping long enough to check for minor details along the way. As far as he can tell, he’s home, though it doesn’t much feel like it at the moment.

When Dick makes it back to the cave, he’s more than a little surprised to see Tim sitting in Bruce’s chair, typing briskly. He’s wearing his Red Robin gear, sans cowl. Dick, for his part, can’t even think of a single thing to say. Instead, he merely ambles across the room, pulls the chair back, all but drags Tim out of the chair, and gathers him into a hug.

Tim immediately tenses in a way that he never has before. It’s almost reminiscent of the way that Tim reacted to him before the kid officially became Robin, but even then Tim never tensed this badly. Dick wants to believe that he just startled the younger man. After all, Tim didn’t seem to notice when Dick entered the cave, but, after recent events, Dick doesn’t feel comfortable assuming anything anymore. He tries to calm Tim down by placing his head on top of Tim’s without saying anything.

It takes a long moment, but Tim eventually forcibly relaxes his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Dick’s brow furrows in confusion. He honestly doesn’t know how to answer that question. Tim shouldn’t be the one supporting him… not when it’s evident that Dick’s the one who failed to support Tim. He doesn’t truly know how they’ve gotten here, but knowing that things have changed is a little different from having a front-row seat to the proof of it. “Tell you what, little brother, I’ll tell you all about it if you tell me what’s been going on with you and what you’re working on.”

Tim’s eyes narrow as he pulls back as much as Dick’s arms will allow. “Nothing particularly interesting, I’m working on some personal projects, but nothing too important or exciting, so what’s going on with you?”

Dick’s heart nearly breaks at the look on Tim’s face. There was a time when Tim would have almost easily taken the bait and filled him in on everything, even if there wasn’t much going on. There was a time when he would have told Dick about all of his personal projects and excitedly explained every aspect of whatever it was he was creating. Dick knows that things have been strained between them for a while now, but he doesn’t know when or even how he lost Tim’s trust in the most basic sense of the word.

Surely, Tim knows by now that Dick isn’t going to think anything negative about his personal projects. Hell, most of the time Dick is just astounded by how Tim’s brain works and the way that he tends to put it to use. He can’t imagine feeling anything besides awe and wonder at the things that Tim creates, so he doesn’t understand why Tim is being so guarded with him now.

Before Dick can think of a reply, however, Tim leads him over to Bruce’s chair and hands him a bottle of water that Tim had sitting on the desk. “Alright, Dick, what’s going on?”

Dick shakes his head. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes as he swallows reflexively. He can’t help but wonder out loud, “What the hell happened to us, Tim?”

Tim stares at him as if Dick’s a particularly difficult puzzle that’s possibly missing a few pieces. “What are you talking about?”

“We… we didn’t used to be like this, Tim. We didn’t used to work like this.” He grips the unopened bottle of water tightly as he desperately tries to ground himself.

Tim’s brow furrows as he puts some distance between the two of them, and all Dick can think about is how Tim is always putting distance between them. “I really don’t know what you mean, Dick. We’ve been working like this since… forever. I honestly don’t understand what’s going on with you right now.”

Dick shakes his head as he slams the water bottle down onto the desk. “No, that’s not true! That’s not true at all, Tim! You used to talk to me. I used to be able to get you to talk to me. You used to tell me about everything… from what you were working on to the mundane things going on in your life. You used to excitedly ramble about whatever you were planning or inventing until you talked yourself out.”

Dick breathes out a heavy breath, desperately trying to calm himself down. He knows how this will end if he doesn’t remain levelheaded, but he also knows that he’s failing spectacularly. “Now? Now, you won’t even tell me what you’re doing in your spare time or what cases you’re working on by yourself. When did that happen, Tim? Why did that happen? What happened to our friendship? Hell, what happened to our brotherly bond, Tim?”

Tim merely shrugs while taking another step away from him, and Dick honestly doesn’t know if Tim’s bracing himself due to Dick’s outburst or if it’s due to some other reason. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dick. You made it pretty clear that you didn’t care about any of that.”

Tim steels himself as if he’s building himself up to say something that he’s believed for a long time, but Dick doesn’t know if he’s ready to hear it. “I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t need you to pretend to care. I don’t need someone to sit through my ramblings and all of that when we both know you’d rather be doing other things. I’m fine just doing what I do best. Besides, you chose your Robin and your little brother, so I don’t see the problem here.”

Dick just sighs heavily at the response as he rubs his temples. He’s annoyed and upset. He legitimately thought that they had moved past this by now. It’s been long enough that Tim should just get over it and deal. “Yeah, I chose Damian to be my Robin, but that didn’t mean that I replaced you, Tim. You’re still my little brother.”

Tim lets out a startled little huff of a breath. It’s laughter without a hint of mirth in it, and the very sound makes Dick’s skin crawl. Tim shakes his head. “What’s really going on here, Dick? This has been this way for a long time and you’ve never noticed or cared until today, so what is your problem? Did you get doused with something? Should I be running blood tests right now, or…?” Tim trails off for a moment, and then his eyes flash with sudden recognition. “Wait, you were missing for some time. Where were you? What were you doing? What happened to you?”

Dick just glares, not wanting to confirm anything, especially since Tim will just take it as a sign that he’s right and ignore everything that Dick has to say on the matter. He gets to his feet, thoroughly irritated and hurt by everything that he’s finally just realized. “That’s not really any of your concern, right, Tim? After all, you’re perfectly happy with the way that things are.”

Tim tenses all over. He looks as if he’s been slapped, and Dick wants to punch himself for being responsible for that expression on his little brother’s face. This is not how he wanted this to go. True, Dick didn’t exactly have a plan and he never genuinely intended to confront Tim at all, but he’s here now, and hurting Tim was never something that he wanted to do. He’s just so angry, and worse, Dick knows that there’s no going back now. Tim’s defenses are up and that never ends well for anyone.

Tim’s face blanks completely before he pulls even farther away from Dick, but Dick blocks his path. “Fine, Dick, I guess you don’t have to tell me anything. After all, I’m not your Robin, your partner, your brother, or your friend anymore.”

Tim turns to leave, but Dick immediately grabs a hold of his arm before Tim can get very far. He pulls Tim back. The rage coursing through him feels nearly all-consuming. How dare Tim try to claim that this is entirely his fault when Tim is just as much to blame for this? “Oh, so, it’s okay for you to keep everything to yourself, but the moment that I do, it’s a fucking problem? I guess you always were the hypocritical Robin, huh, Timmy?”

Tim’s intense blank expression falters for a moment, and it’s just long enough for Dick to catch the look of betrayal in Tim’s eyes. The younger man looks as if Dick stabbed him, and Dick knows that he most definitely needs to stop letting his anger take the reins here. “No, I was always just the placeholder Robin and we both know it.”

Dick can’t help it. He honestly can’t. Hearing those particular words out of Tim’s mouth as if he full-heartedly believes it -- as if all of the years Tim was Robin and his little brother, and all of the time that they spent together means nothing due to the Damian situation -- has Dick taking a swing at him. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until Tim dodges perfectly.

Tim doesn’t even look surprised as he pulls his bo staff out and stands at the ready. Dick drops his arms to his side, heavily, but Tim doesn’t move out of his ready stance. “Tim… Timmy… I’m sorry. I just… how could you think that? After everything we’ve been through, how could you possibly think that?”

Tim merely raises an eyebrow at him. “You know what everyone always says about you, Dick? They say that you’re the nicest one out of all of us, and they’re right. You know there truly isn’t a nicer guy in the whole cape and cowl community. You were even nice enough to pretend to care about me, but it’s been a long time since that’s been the case.”

Dick doesn’t know what to do or what to say. Tim’s words sting in a way that Dick didn’t think was possible, but that’s not important right now. He knows that he can’t just let Tim leave the way that he so obviously wants to, especially not after saying something like that. Dick’s certain that if he lets Tim walk away, then there absolutely will be no fixing this.

He moves to block Tim’s exit once more, but Tim is evidently done playing nice. He swings his bo staff around, nearly connecting with Dick’s bad knee. Dick backflips away and gets ready for another attack. “I trained you. I loved you. I’ve bled for you. I’ve nearly died for you. Hell, I’ve nearly killed for you, Tim. That didn’t just go away because of Damian.”

Tim glares at him, bo staff still drawn. “You aren’t the only one who’s loved, bled, nearly killed, or been killed, Dick, but none of that mattered to you. You thought I was crazy. You tore the only thing that I had left from me. You made it clear that no matter what you said about us being equals, you sure as hell didn’t actually see me as one. And, more importantly, none of that has changed since Bruce’s return.”

Dick opens his mouth to protest, but Tim cuts him off before he can even make a sound. “You still treat me like a stupid, pathetic kid, hoping for something that I can’t have anymore. The thing is, though, Dick, I grew up. I learned that you don’t have my back anymore. You can’t, because you don’t see me as worthy enough anymore. I don’t know why I wasn’t good enough to be your Robin or your little brother, but I do know that I don’t need to be anymore. I don’t need to be good enough for you, Bruce, or anyone else. I’m good enough for me, and that has to be enough because I’ll never get anything more from any of you.”

“Tim, that’s not true!”

Tim scoffs as his expression shifts from fury to heartbreak to blank so quickly that Dick almost thinks that he’s projecting the emotions onto his little brother. “Damian got Robin. He got a family. He got the benefit of the doubt over and over again. I don’t resent him for that, Dick, because he needed all of it, but you wanna know what I got?”

Dick wants to say something… anything, but the words are caught in his throat. However, Tim doesn’t seem to have the same problem. “I got an emancipation. I got another borrowed name and a missing organ. I got everything taken away from me. And the one person who I relied on the most -- not only did the taking -- but had the audacity to stand there and call me crazy.”

Tim glances away for a moment before glaring right back at him. “You wanna know the worst part, Dick? Not a single one of you even spoke to me, not to mention, apologized after I brought Bruce back, so I think it’s pretty fucking clear where everyone stands on the matter. And no, I don’t trust you to have my back anymore, because I already know that you don’t.”

“I saved you from Ra’s.” It’s the only thing that Dick can manage to force out of his suddenly dry throat, but it’s not the words that he wants to say.

Tim glares at him harshly, as he tucks away his staff, clearly thinking that this whole conversation is nearly over. Dick swallows down the bile and braces himself for whatever Tim has to say, knowing that he isn’t going to like it one bit. “Yeah, but let’s be honest, Dick. Neither one of us truly believed that you would.”

It feels like a blow, but before Dick can even think to say anything Tim continues. “Not to mention, I’m not entirely sure who you saved that day. I was ready for all of this to finally be over. I did my job… fulfilled my purpose. I made Bruce proud, and ever since you caught me amid the falling glass shards, I’ve been lost. I can’t do anything but disappoint all of you, and I’m tired of trying to appease you, especially when I know that I can’t.”

“Tim…” Dick does his best to cut off the choked sob that wants to escape as he wraps his hand around Tim’s arm and pulls him back towards him. However, the moment that his hand lands on Tim’s arm the world shifts for the third time. Dick is prepared for the sudden jarring movement and the sensation of falling. Tim, on the other hand, is not, and Dick clings to him, flipping them so that when they land -- whenever and wherever they do -- Dick takes the brunt of the impact.

They end up on another rooftop, and Tim all but tears himself away from Dick’s arms to get to his feet and pulls on his cowl as he simultaneously extends his staff once more. “What the hell? Where are we, and what just happened?”

Dick glances around, uncertain of exactly where or when they are, given his head is still spinning. “Um, yeah, this has been happening to me a lot today. And it’s not just where but also when.”

Tim glares at him as his grip on his bo staff tightens. “And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning this?”

Dick sighs heavily as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, there were more important matters to deal with.”

Tim breathes out a heavy breath as he shakes his head. “I beg to differ, but that’s hardly relevant right now.” Tim glances around at their surroundings, seemingly taking everything in before his eyes suddenly widen beneath the cowl. There’s the sound of fighting somewhere nearby. Dick notices various voices, including Jason’s, Damian’s, and his own, but that’s hardly helpful in regards to pinpointing exactly when they are. They’re still in Gotham. He can discern that much from the cityscape.

“Come on, we have to move.” Tim’s voice has a certain edge to it that Dick recognizes immediately. He couldn’t argue, even if he wanted to.

As they’re leaping over rooftops, Dick catches glimpses of robots that he remembers fighting a while back. However, that still doesn’t help him figure out where they’re going, how Tim knows where to go, or why it’s so urgent. Tim’s moving swiftly, sticking to the shadows, and staying clear of where the fighting is originating. However, Dick doesn’t even remember Tim being in town for this fight.

Dick does his best to keep track of Tim, while simultaneously trying to figure out what exactly Tim noticed that he’s missed. A part of him thinks that he legitimately should be better than this. However, in Dick’s defense, this whole experience has been more than a little agonizing for him. Still, he’s aware that that’s not truly an excuse, and he needs to focus. After all, it’s not fair to always rely on Tim’s insights, even if it’s still second nature.

They round a corner of a seemingly abandoned alleyway where there’s a crumbled brick wall blocking their path. Tim rushes over to the debris and starts digging frantically. Dick has no idea what he’s looking for or why Tim’s acting as if his life depends on whatever lies buried beneath the rubble.

However, he doesn’t bother to ask, either. Things may have changed between them, but that doesn’t mean that Dick doesn’t know when it’s time to shut up and work. He kneels beside Tim and wordlessly begins pushing bricks aside.

It isn’t until they uncover a bloody, torn -- yet familiar -- black glove that Dick’s stomach sinks and his chest clenches. He doesn’t even want to think about who’s lying underneath the rubble -- or how Tim knew to head straight here -- even though he has a sinking feeling that he already knows the answers. A part of him wants to look away and pretend that he’s wrong. Hell, he desperately wants to be wrong. He needs to be wrong like he needs air, but Dick has never been good at lying to himself.

When the two of them remove a large chunk of collapsed wall to uncover a younger, bloodier, bruised, and barely conscious Tim, Dick can’t hold in his gasp of distress -- even though he’s not even remotely surprised. The two of them work together to pull Tim’s younger self from the debris and get him stabilized. Dick can barely hold it together as he takes stock of younger Tim’s injuries -- considering he didn’t even know that Tim was in Gotham for this fight -- as Tim activates the younger man’s distress signal.

Younger Tim blinks rapidly and keeps trying to suck in enough air to ask questions, but Red Robin merely shakes his head and gestures for him to relax. Dick doesn’t know if he should step in here or not. It’s peculiar that Tim seemed to know exactly where he needed to go and what to do, especially since Dick doesn’t even fully recall this fight beyond the fact that he had to rely on Jason’s help to reel in Damian.

Once Tim has his younger self calmed enough to listen, he grabs a hold of his younger self’s shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. “You’ll be okay. Someone is on their way. Don’t mention us. Trust me; it’ll just be better that way.”

The younger Tim nods once before lying still and trying to breathe evenly. Dick desperately wants to say something, but, before he gets a chance, Red Robin grabs a hold of his arm and practically drags Dick away. It’s while the two of them are making their way to another rooftop to watch over Tim’s barely conscious counterpart that Dick allows the realization to settle in.

Tim was here. Tim was hurt. Tim needed help. He needed them, and they didn’t even know he was in Gotham. His stomach drops as the two of them wait for help… help that -- from Dick’s perspective -- is taking far too long.

He stares down at younger Tim as the teen fights to stay conscious, anxiously waiting to see which one of their family members finally arrives at Tim’s location. He has half a mind to lecture whoever it is once they return to their own time. After all, they have protocols for injuries like this, specifically in regards to not hiding said injury. However, after a few minutes and no one arrives, Dick’s heart sinks even lower.

The battle is raging only mere blocks away. Someone should be here by now… no matter how the fight is going, and yet the two of them are still just waiting. Dick is nearly ready to jump back down to the ground and take younger Tim back to the cave his-damn-self when there’s the sudden displacement of air that only happens when Supers are around.

Dick watches in anguish as Superboy lands beside Tim’s limp form. They’re too far away to hear what Superboy says, if anything, but Conner doesn’t seem surprised that he was called instead of a single member of Tim’s nearby family. Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, trying to drag him away from the scene, but Dick’s rooted to the spot, staring helplessly at the traces of blood on the ground and the broken bricks that Tim was once buried underneath.

The world tilts once again, and it takes Dick a long moment to realize that the image that has been burned into his retinas has finally faded away and he’s once again in the Batcave. He turns to Tim, feeling hollow and wretched. There are so many things that Dick wants to say… so many questions he wants to ask, but he doesn’t even know where to begin, nor does he know how to voice them all.

“I recovered, obviously, so there’s no reason to…”

Tim cuts himself off and braces himself as Dick drags him into another hug. “You didn’t even attempt to call one of us, Timmy. Why?”

Tim sighs heavily, slumping into the hug, though Dick doubts that he’s genuinely receiving any comfort from it. “I think you know why, Dick.”

Dick both does and doesn’t and that’s probably what bothers him the most. He knows that Tim doesn’t expect them to come when he calls, but he doesn’t understand why. He desperately wants to know what the hell happened that led them here.

Dick can’t imagine that Tim’s apparent lack of trust in all of them and expectation that they would simply abandon him stems purely from the year he was globetrotting to find Bruce. “No, Tim, I truly don’t know. Why wouldn’t you call us? Do you really think we would just abandon you like that?”

Tim shakes his head. “You were all busy with the robot army. It just made more sense to call Kon.”

Dick’s fists clench as his jaw tightens. It takes every ounce of control he has not to growl. “No, it didn’t. Even with his super speed, it still took Kon longer to get to you than it would have taken any of us to break off from our fight and get to your location, and that doesn’t even account for how far away the tower is. So, don’t stand there and try and tell me that you just chose the most logical option, because, no matter how you slice it, Kon wasn’t it.”

Tim sighs heavily as he starts to walk back towards the computer. “Yes, he was. I’m safe at the tower. No one is going to interrogate me there, verbally attack me while I’m injured, assert how useless I am for getting injured in the first place, or stare at me with utter disappointment the entire time I recover. I can’t claim the same thing here.”

Dick doesn’t know what to say to all of that. He knew that Damian’s jabs at Tim were getting to him, but he never realized how bad it was until now. “Look, Tim, Damian is…”

“I’m not talking about Damian. Damian can say or do whatever he wants. I don’t care about his opinion, Dick. Why would I? He’s a kid, who barely even knows me. His opinion is unfounded and biased. You and Bruce on the other hand… well, that’s what gets to me, Dick.”

“Tim… I…” He reaches out for Tim once again, but Tim spins around so fast that Dick has to retract his hand, lest they painfully collide.

“Stop!” Tim’s sudden outburst has Dick freezing in place as Tim just stands there, breathing heavily. “Just stop. We have bigger problems to address.”

“I disagree.”

“Well, I don’t!” Tim glares harshly. “We have to figure out why you keep hopping through time and space and how to stop it. What if this is dangerous, Dick? What if it’s uncontrollable? What if you get stuck somewhere? What if you spontaneously drag someone with you into a fight when they can’t defend themselves, or worse?”

Dick places his hand on Tim’s shoulder to calm him, but, almost as if to prove Tim’s point, the world swirls around them once again. This time they both land on their feet on the middle of a rooftop in the center of Bludhaven.

Tim just scowls. “My point exactly.” He looks around, seemingly searching for something. “Well?”

Dick merely shrugs, uncertain of what Tim expects from him at this moment. “What?”

Tim huffs out a breath in an extremely put-upon manner. “We’re obviously in Bludhaven. Any idea when?”

Before Dick can even look around for certain landmarks, they’re both ducking down into the shadows while a small cape-wearing figure swings past them. Dick doesn’t even need to glance over to Tim to know that they are most definitely going to trail after Tim’s younger self. The two of them follow behind at a safe distance the entire way to the Bludhaven PD. Tim and Dick stare at each other in utter confusion as Robin crouches down on top of the police department right over the main entrance.

Dick nudges Tim with his elbow. “So, any idea when we are?”

Tim glares as he shakes his head. “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing here.”

The two of them resign themselves to settling down here and waiting. Luckily, it isn’t long before Dick can see his younger self exiting the building with his former partner. The two of them watch wide-eyed as Robin jumps down off the building, grabs Officer Grayson, and screams, “Sorry, I just need to borrow him for a bit,” as he grapples back up to the roof.

Amy laughs and waves. “Whatever, I was heading home anyway.”

Dick glances over at Tim. “Okay, I honestly feel like one of us should remember that happening.”

Tim huffs out an annoyed breath. “Why would we? Stuff like that used to be a regular occurrence for us.”

Dick isn’t sure if Tim means it as a slight, but he feels the sting of his words either way. It hurts more that he can’t refute it. After all, Tim’s right. Once upon a time, those kinds of incidents were commonplace for them. He sighs and gestures for Tim to follow him. “Come on, we should listen in.”

Tim looks as though he wants to argue, but merely follows along behind Dick without voicing his objections. Dick finds a good place to eavesdrop and all but shoves Tim into the shadows beside him.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Robin?” Officer Grayson’s smile is so wide that even Dick’s face hurts just staring at it. Although, to be fair, that may be due to recent events and the knowledge that things like this might never be attainable again.

Robin sits down on the rooftop, tosses Officer Grayson a brown paper bag, and gestures for Dick to sit beside him. “Sorry, I was gonna meet you back at your apartment, but I didn’t want dinner to get cold.”

Officer Grayson grins even wider as he sits down next to Robin and throws an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “I appreciate that, but I’ve got a feeling there’s a bit more to this impromptu delivery. What’s going on, Baby-bird?”

Dick’s breath catches in his throat at the nickname. He hasn’t called Tim that since Damian came into their lives. It wasn’t even a conscious decision to stop using it. It just sort of happened. The nickname just slowly disappeared one day… just like everything else.

Robin sighs heavily as he leans into the sideways hug. “You ever feel like people only like the masked version of you?” Robin scoffs before Officer Grayson can respond. “What am I saying? Of course, you don’t. You’re Dick Grayson. Everyone loves you.”

Officer Grayson laughs and visibly squeezes Robin a little tighter. “Thanks for the ringing endorsement, although I think you’d be surprised. Anyway, what’s all of this about?”

Robin shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Things have just been rough outside of the mask lately. With everything going on at school and at home, mask-less me isn’t anyone’s favorite anything right now. Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier if I just stopped trying to have a life outside of the mask, you know?”

Dick vaguely remembers this conversation. He wonders if Tim remembers it more clearly. After all, it’s rather standard for someone in the mask crowd to ponder such things.

Even Dick has wondered from time to time what his life would be like if he wasn’t also trying to live as Dick Grayson. That said, he has always known that he needs a life away from the mask -- that Dick’s better when there’s more to his life than just long nights on rooftops. Or at least, he used to be absolutely certain about that. Now, he finds himself questioning quite a few things.

Hell, there have been plenty of times in the past when Dick has wondered what his life would be like without the mask entirely. Nevertheless, he almost always returns to the idea that both sides of the mask need to exist. It's for the best. However, that doesn’t negate the part of him that has been considering what things would be like if there was no Nightwing right now, given everything that he’s been learning tonight.

Then again, perhaps it isn’t fair to wonder what it would be like with no Nightwing when he’s currently enduring the consequences of Batman’s mistakes -- perhaps the mistakes of both Batmen, if he’s honest with himself. After all, he wasn’t the only Batman who led them to their current circumstances. Not to mention, it wasn’t Nightwing who solely ruined Tim’s trust in the entire family.

Dick’s attention returns to the conversation between Officer Grayson and Robin just as Officer Grayson ruffles Tim’s hair before recapturing him in another embrace. “I know things have been pretty rough for you lately, but I think you already know that both sides of the mask are needed. And, for what it’s worth, I happen to love both Baby-bird and Tiny Tim.”

Robin scrunches his face in disgust but practically snuggles into Officer Grayson’s arms. “And I happen to hate both of those nicknames equally.”

Officer Grayson laughs wholeheartedly, in a way that Dick can’t even imagine doing right now. Not after literally witnessing how far the two of them have drifted apart. “You do not! You love both of them and you know it. And I promise you right here and now that I will never stop using them, even if you magically hit that growth spurt that never happened, you will still always be Baby-bird and Tiny Tim. Got it, little brother?”

Robin is absolutely beaming at Officer Grayson, which somehow makes Dick feel even worse. He forgot what it was like to make Tim both happy and proud by simply being sincere and honest in his desire to always be his big brother. He never thought Tim would ever doubt that he meant Tim would always be his little brother no matter what, but… well, here they are now.

Dick glances over to Red Robin beside him, and even with Tim’s cowl on he can see the absolute heartbreak he feels at witnessing this. Dick nudges him, and Tim just sighs. “He doesn’t know that it’s all a lie. He doesn’t know how much it’ll hurt… how much it always hurts. He doesn’t know that he was better off when he was alone.” Tim sounds as if he’s on the verge of tears for a moment before his entire demeanor changes and his voice hardens. “He’s an idiot and he should know better.” Tim sneers before turning away. “Come on, there’s nothing left for either of us here now.”

Dick sucks in a sharp breath. The absolute venom in Tim’s voice directed towards his younger self is far worse than how Tim has ever spoken to Dick, even when they’ve been trading blows back and forth. Hell, it’s worse than how Tim speaks to most villains. Dick doesn’t know how to even process the knowledge that no matter how angry Tim might be at Dick for their entire relationship falling apart, he’s evidently far more enraged with himself for ever allowing that bond to exist in the first place.

Dick has to choke back a sob as he snatches a hold of Tim’s cape. “It wasn’t a lie. None of it was ever a lie. You know that. You have to know that!”

Tim yanks his cape out of Dick’s hold so forcefully that Dick’s fingers practically sting inside his gloves, but that might just be because he was clutching so tightly to Tim. Dick honestly isn’t even certain if he means literally or metaphorically anymore. “None of that matters right now. We need to focus on getting back home, figuring out why you keep jumping through time and space -- as well as dragging along people with you -- and how to stop it. I would think that, given that you’re the catalyst for all of this, you would be more concerned about that than, well... this…” Tim trails off as he gestures wildly between the two of them.

Dick’s eyes narrow at Tim’s insinuation that their deteriorating relationship is something that he shouldn’t be concerned with at all. “It turns out that I’m great at multitasking. I can be worried about both.”

Even with the Red Robin cowl firmly in place, Dick can tell that Tim is rolling his eyes and scowling. “Yes, that’s exactly why you never even mentioned that this has been happening to you at all until I was quite literally dragged into this with you.”

Dick grinds his teeth together to keep from shouting, but it’s a near thing. “Is it honestly such a bad thing to be working with me on something, Red?”

Tim scoffs in exasperation as he balls his hands into fists.“Since zero work has gotten done and we are no closer to home or figuring out what’s happening to you, I’d say that’s a solid yes.”

Dick’s sighs as he hangs his head. He can’t understand how things have gotten this bad. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand it. “Just answer one question for me, Red. When did you start to hate me?”

Tim’s brow furrows as he slowly unclenches his fists, takes a deep breath, and takes a step back. “I don’t hate you.”

Dick huffs out a bitter snort. “It sure seems that way.”

Tim shakes his head. He appears absolutely heartbroken that Dick would think such a thing. “Sometimes I honestly think it would be easier if I did hate you, but I can’t. You’re you. And despite how stupid it is, despite how much I wish I didn’t, even though it does nothing but cause me pain, I can’t do anything but love you. However, that doesn’t mean that I can trust you. It doesn’t mean that I can just pretend like everything is fine. It doesn’t mean that I can pretend to still be your little brother when it’s obvious you don’t see me that way anymore.”

“That’s not true!”

“You keep saying that, but just look at them.” Tim gestures to where Officer Grayson and Robin are leaning into each other, laughing and joking as they gently nudge one another with their elbows. “We aren’t those people anymore, Dick. We can’t be those people anymore. We’ve changed. I’ve changed! And you’ve made it clear that you don’t like this me nearly as much as you pretended to like that me.” He waves a hand at Robin.

“I was never pretending!” Dick growls as he takes another step closer to Tim. His arms are shaking with the strain of holding himself back.

“Be that as it may, you still don’t like who I am anymore. That isn’t going to change with a growl, a scowl, or a hug. This is me, and I can’t go back to being him.” Tim shoves a hand in Robin’s direction once again. “I’m not a stupid, needy kid anymore, and I’ll never be one again!”

“I don’t think you were ever a stupid, needy kid, Red, and I don’t want you to go back to being him. I just…” Dick wants to reach out, but he’s honestly afraid of what will happen if he does. “I just want to have a real relationship with you again. I just want to be your brother.”

Tim laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “And what does that even look like to you, Dick?”

“Just let me be there for you, Tim. Just talk to me. Tell me how you’re doing and what you’re working on. Spend time with me and let me spend time with you.”

Tim folds his arms across his chest and takes the slightest step back. “I have and I do.”

“Bullshit!” Dick throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “You bolt the moment that you can. Hell, you’re practically trying to bolt now. You never accept any of my invitations to hang out and you certainly don’t offer any of your own. I don’t know if anyone sees you outside of the mask or a suit anymore. I know I haven’t in ages.”

“I’m not trying to bolt. I’m just trying not to draw attention to our location.”

“I don’t believe you!”

Tim glares. He looks as though he wants to punch Dick in the face, and honestly, Dick wouldn’t be surprised if Tim did, given how well this entire night has gone so far. “Well, that’s hardly new. You never did, anyway!”

Dick grabs a hold of Tim’s arm once again, and the sudden shift between rooftop and cave is almost becoming like second nature. In fact, Dick only notices the relocation when he catches Tim from stumbling. “There! Now there’s no one to hide from and no more excuses to make.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he tears his arm out of Dick’s grasp. “Wanting to put an end to the weird time shift that keeps happening with you is not the same thing as hiding.”

“And yet, here we are, and you’re still trying to avoid the real issue.”

Tim shakes his head as he turns away. “As far as I’m concerned I’m the only one out of the two of us who is focusing on the real issue.”

“Tim, I’m trying here.”

Tim throws his hands into the air as he growls. “Trying to do what exactly?”

“Fix this!”

“You can’t go back and change the past, Dick. We both know exactly what happens when people try to do that.”

“You’re right, so let’s just sit down and figure out how to move forward.”

Tim scoffs again. “The only one not moving forward here is you. Now can we please work on how to stop the random jumps through time and space before we end up stuck somewhere?”

“At this point, Tim, I think I’d rather be stuck in the past.”

Dick has a moment to think that he really needs to stop saying things that he knows the universe is going to take as a challenge before he’s landing on yet another rooftop. Dick gives a cursory glance around. He doesn’t know if he should be relieved that he’s here alone or not. After all, none of his conversations with Tim have gone well so far. Dick doesn’t even try to quantify when the last time a conversation with Tim has gone well. He’s honestly afraid of the answer.

Dick glances around, finds a gargoyle overlooking a rooftop that practically looks brand new compared to its counterpart in Dick’s actual time, and almost misses the distinct sound of laughter. He turns and catches a very young Robin leaping through the air with Nightwing practically glued to his side.

Dick almost turns and runs in the other direction. He’s seen enough to know that the only thing that can come from watching his past self with Robin is insurmountable pain. Dick figures he can probably just find someplace to lie low until another time shift happens. Hell, at this point, he’s considering the merits of tracking down Batman and figuring this out together.

In fact, that might be the best plan at this point. After all, once this is over, Dick can go home and… and the thought fizzles out right there. Dick has absolutely no idea what he should do once this is all over. A part of him feels as though he should corner Tim and force the issue, but another part of him thinks that maybe it’s time to actually listen to Tim. If he truly doesn’t want a relationship with Dick anymore... if he honestly only wants them to see each other in their current capacity, then is it fair of Dick to fight him on this?

Dick wants to say yes so badly. However, after his last little foray into the past, he’s honestly wondering if he’s been thinking about this all wrong since the beginning. Dick thought that Tim was just filtering out all of the good times they used to have together, but it occurs to him that potentially Tim is doing something far worse than that.

Maybe Tim is merely remembering the good times in an extremely different way than Dick. Tim remembers the good times as moments of weakness and stupidity. He sees every moment that Dick has always cherished as the beginning of the end and is holding it against himself that he didn’t see those times as such from the very start.

Dick breathes out a heavy sigh. If that’s the case, and it certainly seems that way, then what the hell is he supposed to do? He can’t change the way Tim sees it. He can’t fight that… no matter how much Dick may want to, and he most definitely wants to fight. Moreover, Dick knows that nothing he says or does is going to convince Tim that he never meant for them to end up here.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Dick suddenly has a sinking feeling. They’ve both been blaming everything on Tim losing Robin and Damian’s place in the family, but Dick’s starting to wonder if perhaps the catalyst for this started long before Damian. If Damian was just the final straw, then perchance Tim is right and there truly is nowhere to go from here. Possibly, Tim has had the right idea since the beginning.

Dick doesn’t even want to consider it, but he can’t help feeling as though the facts are right there in front of him. He knows that denying facts doesn’t make them any less true. No matter how much Dick wishes that wasn’t the case, and right now he finds himself wishing that a great many things weren’t true.

Dick abruptly can’t stand anymore. He sinks into a crouched position, curling up on the gargoyle, essentially clutching at himself. He feels like he can’t even breathe. This… this is a devastation that he wasn’t prepared for. Dick has lost people, been unable to save people, and had more relationships turn sour than he cares to think about. He’s endured plenty of pain and hardship. He knows it never truly gets easier, and yet somehow this feels like all of that and none of it at the same time.

Dick is startled out of his thoughts by a sudden scream, too familiar and too nearby for him to ignore. He turns, bracing himself for danger, but all he sees is Robin falling out of the sky directly in front of him. Before Dick can even hiss out a breath, Nightwing swoops down and catches him. The two of them land on the rooftop directly below Dick’s gargoyle, close enough that Dick can’t move if he doesn’t want to be spotted.

It seems like some sick twist of fate that Dick can’t escape and has no choice but to listen and watch as Nightwing comforts Robin. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. “Hey, it’s okay, little brother. I’ve got you. I’d never let anything happen to you.”

Dick does his best not to hollowly laugh at Nightwing’s earnest reassurances. He almost wants to tell Nightwing that he’s fairly certain no one in the world has hurt Tim as much as Dick, but well… preserving the blissful ignorance might be worth it in the end. After all, what good would it do to destroy everything now?

Robin is bent over breathing heavily for a moment before he stands up and hugs Nightwing tightly. “I know that. You’d never let me fall. Thank you for always catching me and being there for me.”

Dick sucks in a heavy breath while trying to remain silent. He hasn’t had Tim’s trust in him like this in seemingly forever. He’s honestly forgotten what it feels like. This hurts worse than all the other moments Dick’s witnessed thus far.

The agony is like a crushing weight on his chest. Dick doesn’t realize that he’s crying until he feels a tear drip off of his chin, uncomfortably cold in the chilly night air. It takes all of Dick’s self-control not to audibly sob. He knows now with utter certainty that he’ll never have a moment like this with Tim again.

Nightwing returns the hug just as fiercely, if not tighter. “Always, little brother, always.” Nightwing releases the hug to hold Robin firmly by the shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. “Now, tell me what happened. You were doing fine, and then all of a sudden, you just dropped.”

Robin shuffles slightly with his head bowed. Whatever just happened, Tim’s clearly embarrassed. The stark contrast between Dick’s heartbreak and the heartwarming scene playing out below him has Dick’s head spinning. Still, seeing a bashful Tim has Dick nearly leaning forward on his gargoyle for a better view. After all, it’s been ages since Dick has seen a chagrin Tim Drake. He almost forgot how prevalent Tim’s blush used to be during his early days as Robin.

“I sort of maybe injured my arm earlier today, and it just sort of gave out.”

Dick almost groans at the explanation. Still, it’s nice that this Tim can admit when he’s injured, even if it’s after the fact and well past the point that he should have. Especially since Dick’s current Tim sure as hell doesn’t bother.

However, that’s something else that Dick has forgotten. The need to observe Tim and verify that he’s genuinely okay has become so ingrained in Dick that it’s second nature. At some point, however, he’s completely forgotten that it was something that he has to do, because Tim became too good at hiding, or, perhaps more accurately, Dick just became too complacent and blind to the obvious.

He’s starting to wonder if that’s the real crux of their issues. Tim lies, hides, and is just plain silent about his pain -- both physically and not -- and has been for some time. Somewhere along the way, Dick stopped noticing. Then suddenly, it was too late.

Perhaps, it wasn’t just Dick that became complacent, though. Tim relied on Dick to see what no one else did. He relied on Dick to confer with him on various matters, because, just as seeing it eventually became instinctive to Dick, having Dick recognize it and discuss it with him became innate to Tim.

Dick wonders if that’s the thing that has changed the most between them. He knows that they’ve both changed and grown over the years. They’re different people now more than ever.

That was an obvious fact even before all of the time jumping he’s been doing. However, now more than ever it’s evident that the real change was their expectations for each other. Tim no longer trusts Dick enough to rely on him at all and Dick can no longer believe Tim’s lies. The problem is Dick also doesn’t know how to discuss and debate with Tim anymore. He’s not certain if dealing with Damian is the reason or if it’s simply because, at some point, Tim seemingly has drifted out of his reach.

They don’t talk anymore. He’s known that for a while now, but Dick is starting to realize the extent of it in an extraordinarily visceral way now. What’s worse is that Dick’s not entirely sure he knows how to communicate with Tim anymore or if Tim even wants to try. It certainly seems as though he doesn’t, but how much of that is because of Dick’s mistakes, and how much of that is because of Tim’s. Dick doesn’t have an answer and honestly, he’s not entirely certain that he wants one at this point.

The Nightwing on the rooftop below him sighs heavily as he seemingly finishes checking over younger Tim’s injury. “Well, from what I can tell, it doesn’t seem to be too badly injured. Definitely overworked, swollen, and in desperate need of rest, but you should be okay. I’m taking you home, mister, and I’m sure Agent A will want to have a look at it too, but overall I’m just glad that you’re okay. Don’t scare me like that ever again. This family needs you, Robin.”

Robin stares at Nightwing like a star-struck kid. “I know Batman needs a Robin, and I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Nightwing reaches over and ruffles the kid’s hair. Dick wishes he could remember this, but little moments like this used to just be standard for their interactions. This particular one wasn’t special… at least, not until he lost it completely. Then again, Dick wonders if the fact that he didn’t even notice that he lost it in the first place means things like this never mattered to him as much as they should have. He honestly is starting to wonder if Tim has a point.

“Yeah, Batman needs a Robin, but we also need you. You got that, little brother. You need to take care of yourself.”

Tim beams at Nightwing despite the obvious pain that he’s in. “But, N, that’s what I’ve got you for, right?”

Nightwing is obviously rolling his eyes beneath his mask, but he’s grinning brightly anyway. “Always, little brother, I’ll always take care of you.”

Dick sucks in a sharp breath. He meant it. He knows that he meant it. He’s always meant it. Every time Dick has ever uttered that particular promise, he’s meant it with his whole being. Dick never meant to break it, but he’s seen the proof firsthand that he very much has done so. And now that he has realized that; perhaps the only thing left to do is to let Tim go, Dick feels as if Tim’s earlier assessment of him being a liar is more true than he ever believed.

Dick shakes his head as if to clear it. None of his decisions will matter if he doesn’t get back home and stop the random time and space shifts he’s currently enduring. Dick’s seriously considering doing something drastic, like literally talking to Bruce about this when he glances down and sees that Nightwing and Robin aren’t engrossed in their conversation anymore.

Instead, the two on the rooftop are staring up directly at him, wide-eyed, but Dick is already calculating his jump to the next gargoyle and the best way to lose the two of them. He leaps forward, intending to distract them with his free-fall before grappling away, but the moment his feet leave the gargoyle the world tilts around him once more and Dick free-falls face first onto the cave floor.

The breath leaves him as his body lands with a thud. Dick takes a moment to just lie on the ground and reorient himself before he slowly gets to his feet. Tim is standing a mere foot in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, and looking decidedly unimpressed. Dick wishes he was still lying on the cave floor, if, for no other reason, than to settle his still-rolling stomach. “So where did you end up this time?”

Dick shakes his head while he refrains from rubbing his temples. He’s not certain if the constant shifts through time and space are having adverse effects on his body or if the headache that is forming is purely due to the present situation and/or his current company. Either way, informing Tim of his staggering and ever-increasingly intense migraine seems ill-advised, to say the least. “It doesn’t matter. I thought it through and you were right.”

Tim raises a single eyebrow, clearly expecting this moment to turn just as sour as their last conversations. “Oh, so, you’re finally willing to take this seriously and focus on the problem at hand.”

“No.” At Tim’s intense glare, Dick continues. “I mean, yes, I want to discover why this is happening and put a stop to it just as much as you do.

Dick decides to simply ignore Tim’s muttered, “Doubtful.”

“What I meant is, you were right about the fact that there’s nothing I can do about us. We can’t just continue on the way that we have been and you don’t seem to want a relationship of any kind anymore, so I guess I have no choice but to just let you go. I honestly don’t know when or why everything changed between us, or when you just gave up on being a part of this family, but you’ve made it clear there’s nothing I can do about that now. So, I guess this is it.”

Tim stands as stoic as ever and simply nods once. “I suppose I should thank you for finally acknowledging what I’ve known all along. This is for the best.”

Dick does his best to remain resolute and keep his flinch well hidden at Tim’s icy tone. However, before he can say anything else there’s a flash of blinding light and a deafening screech. “No, no, no, no, no!” The single word is repeated louder and louder with each interaction until the booming voice suddenly reaches an earsplitting pitch. “This was not how this was supposed to go! This won’t do! I will not abide by it!”

Dick and Tim automatically fall into ready stances back to back with their weapons in hand. Before either of them can say or do anything, there’s a puff of yellow smoke that smells vaguely of wildflowers, and out of the smoke appears a tall, dark, lanky, young man, dressed in an over-sized green coat, black dress pants, and purple converse high-tops. It takes Dick a moment to realize that he recognizes the young man. “You!”

“Me? Yes me?” The strange newcomer glares at them both, looking honestly affronted. “Now focus!”

Tim hasn’t moved a muscle, seemingly taking his cues from Dick and refraining from attacking the stranger. However, if Dick is honest with himself, he doubts Tim is actually taking any cues from him. He’s most likely just planning and information gathering. “Friend of yours, I take it,” Tim mutters with utter disdain.

Dick merely shakes his head. “That remains to be seen. Though he seemed rather grateful when I saved him earlier tonight.”

“And I guess this is just one more thing that you failed to mention tonight, huh?” Dick can practically hear Tim rolling his eyes right now.

“It slipped my mind.” Dick hisses back, resisting the urge to face Tim again.

“You met a magic user strong enough to get through B’s defenses and just saunter into the cave without tripping a single alarm, and it just ‘slipped your mind’?”

“A lot has happened tonight.”

The magic user in question snaps his fingers to get their attention. “I believe I did tell you two to focus. I did not grant you the ability to see what you’ve lost just so you could throw it away. You were supposed to regain what you’ve lost by bearing witness to the past. That was the gift I offered you for saving me, but I see now that there’s only one way to restore what has been broken, given how stubborn you both are, so I shall fix this the only way I can.”

The magic user raises his hands and both of them are immediately immobilized. A purple orb of light surrounds them as the mage begins to cast another spell. “Until what is broken is mended, back in time again, to start anew as intended.” The purple orb of light around them closes in, and it feels as if it’s a physical barrier pressing against them, practically squeezing them back to back with barely any room to breathe, and then it shatters with a blinding light that whites out their vision. Tim and Dick hear a loud screeching before everything fades to black.

XYZXYZ

Dick sucks in a sharp breath as he clutches the ledge he’s sitting on. He takes a second to lean back to regain his balance. Dick feels like he just woke up from a long nap. Nightwing has to admit that he’s glad that Batman isn’t here to witness that particular rookie move. He doesn’t even remember why he’s so tired, but he feels well-rested now. Still, Nightwing can’t remember anything out of the ordinary happening this week that would exhaust him this much.

He stretches as he glances around. Dick feels like he was doing… something before he woke up, but he can’t remember what. He shakes his head to clear his mind as he gets to his feet. Abruptly, there’s the sound of a boot scuffing against the rooftop behind him and Dick spins around to see Robin trying to sneak up on him. “Nice try, baby bird, but better luck next time.”

Tim scowls as he stares down at his feet like they’ve betrayed him. “Yeah.”

Suddenly Dick remembers that he’s supposed to be training Tim this whole week. He honestly doesn’t know how he forgot, but… well, these things happen. Nightwing grins as he wraps an arm around Robin’s shoulders and reels him into his side. “Don’t worry, little brother, you’re getting better. And after this week you’ll start to see it, too. Now, first things first, train surfing 101.”

Robin stares at him owlishly, blinking slowly. “Train surfing? Seriously?”

Nightwing grins as he ruffles the kid’s hair. “Yeah, I told you, you’re ready.”

Robin gives him a small smile. “If you say so.”

Dick vows that by the end of the week, he’s going to see a full grin from ear to ear from this kid. “Come on, Robin. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

They move to leap off of the rooftop, but both of them abruptly pause and turn towards each other. They both stare at each other for a long moment. “Huh, why do I feel like we’ve had this conversation before?”

Dick shakes his head. “I don’t know. I just got a weird sense of deja vu, too.”

Tim shrugs as he glances away. “Perhaps, we should delay train surfing training, then.”

Nightwing smiles as he hugs the kid again. “Not a chance, little brother. I mean it. You’re ready for this, and I’ve got you.”

Robin takes a deep breath as he leans into the hug. “Promise?”

Nightwing merely tightens the embrace. “Always.”

The End

#dick grayson #tim drake #nightwing #robin #comics #fanfic

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lucidwindz · 4 months ago

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billford ramblings

I’m seeing a lot of delightful fics of Bill being sent back to GF as a human and truly adore the premise.

throwing my own hat into the ring; I love some complex psychological horror and or unhealthy yet compelling dynamics, therefore in the AU that only exists in my head (for now), Bill broke out of Theraprism by himself, lands back onto earth and possesses the body of just some guy who was about to die, therefore an empty vessel yknow. His powers would be diminished, or he’d need to keep them under wraps so as not to catch the eye of any supernatural police. The Stan twins have been travelling across the globe to catch any residual weirdness, and Bill’s little fall to earth had pinged off on their radar, so they go to the anomaly place and just find Some Guy.

Bill has to do his best to convince the twins that he’s just Some Guy, and that the reason he’s giving Weird Vibes is bc he came into contact with the anomaly and it left his arms charred, and being able to do some magical tricks. He decides the best place to hide is wherever everyone least expects him, so he joins the twins on their adventures as resident Strange Guy But Kinda Smart and Useful so sure, tag along.

Now here’s the thing. Bill and Stanford get along really well, they’re both intellectuals and they bond over creating strange inventions, much to the despair of poor Stanley who has to make sure they don’t go too crazy and make Weirdmaggedon 2 electric bugaloo. But sometimes he participates yknow, dude learned some advanced shit in the 30 years fixing the portal. Either way, they rly end up bonding.

All the while, however, Bill realizes how much he missed being with Stanford, and becomes increasingly worried about the cat coming out of the bag and ruining this second chance. He’s careful that his demeanours are never too similar to how he used to act, he’s desperate not to shatter the illusion. One way or another, this entire thing teaches him to slow down and cherish something. Still, he cannot fully contain his chaotic nature, it’s a non stop push and pull between his godhood and his growing care for humanity. How does a cosmic, unfathomable being such as himself change? Can they even? Or would that very change tear himself asunder?

On Stanford’s side, he cannot help but find this stranger familiar, can’t help the incessant déjà-vu, anytime he and the man stay up late into the night discussing the mysteries of the universe. But he thinks it’s unfair to pile his trauma onto this random guy, so he restrains himself. Still, it is a quiet scream in the back of his head he can’t shut out. He also realizes slowly that the other man seems to always be repressing himself, and he wants his friend to break out of his shell and be truthful, but another part of him dreads it to his bones.

Still, both of them can’t help falling for each other. Stanford feels like someone finally sees him completely, and this time they’re on equal footing; it is not a believer on his knees for a god, it is a slow waltz as they hold hands. A comforting, soft partnership.

(at the core of billford, I think, is we never truly know if they loved each other. Perhaps they only loved the idea of each other; stanford’s love for Bill is that of a believer, a worshipper. He saw Bill as this clairvoyant eye to finally bathe him with the acknowledgment he always craved, the hole in his heart left by Stanley, to fill with achievements and noises. If a God can acknowledge me, then I must be doing things right, I must be good, I must be enough. Yet when that shatters, and Bill is revealed to be a demon, what says that about Stanford, who reveled in his gaze? As for Bill, he fully saw Stanford as a pawn till he lost him. Is it truly love and regret? Or is it a child losing its favourite toy? Is it mere disbelief that anything can slip through his, a god, a king’s fingers? Even a pawn that he liked a little more than the others, that he expected would remain on his board but vanishes and he can’t help but linger on its empty square? Does he mourn his loss of control or does he mourn just a little bit, the company of someone who understands him, his incessant need for escapism, from his broken home, his oddness, his ‘defect’?)

Eventually, everything comes to a head when Bill has to use his full powers to save Stanley during a mission gone wrong. Sirens blare across the universe and Bill knows he will be found out and sent back to the hell of infinite therapy. But for that moment, all Bill cared about was Stanford’s happiness and wellbeing, because he knew that losing his brother would break him fully. He had to care for Ford, despite his fear of losing him forever. Despite the fact that this would be the end of the road for him.

As for the ending, idk what would be most appropriate. I’d love a happy ending but I think though Stanford will try to save Bill from his fate in theraprism to repay his debt, he would be too hurt to fully forgive the demon. Maybe they part ways, and Bill places a kiss on Stanford’s scarred knuckles and accepts that to love is to lose, and he has to accept that if you truly love another, it means letting them be happy even if that happiness is without you.

I think some of my love for the Jedi’s philosophy leaked in all that yapping but anyways. Might draw or write a lil something for this AU down the line. I like unclean resolutions, they’re both forever stained with the other’s handprint, but would they trace it softly on their skin or cover it up with a high collar. Who knows? It makes no damn sense, compels me though!

#Ramblings #gravity falls #billford

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alyssaforevermore · 5 months ago

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Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season two, part seven

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Tags: @1ivinqdeadqir1 @callmeyn @thegeorgiahuntsman @mellxander1993 @bigbaldheadname @cjmonsterwolf @abbi23323 @actuallyklee @lanxsee @livingdeadblondequeen @sweetz1919 @moonmark98 @sarahbaker2010 @ririi-3 @ryoujoking @hayley1998 @crazyunsexycool @gabriella-aesthetic @dixons-sunshine @strqwbrina @beardedstudentsuit

Masterlist

You walked around the barn, checking for any weak spots. There were small cracks in the exterior but you couldn’t find any loose boards or spots big enough for a walker to sneak out of. This didn’t make you feel any better, however. You could hear the groans and clattering going on inside, each sound making the hair on your neck stand up.

Despite Rick’s promise to speak with Hershel, your hopes were low. If he truly believed these walkers were just sick people, there was no way he was going to agree to put them down.

“My father’s going to kick your people out now, you know?” Maggie spoke from behind you.

You let out a small sigh, turning to face her. “You can’t seriously believe these people are sick.”

“Those people are my family.” Maggie hissed. “If Glenn would’ve just let it go-”

“We deserved to know.” You cut her off. “Look, I get why your father feels the way he does but you guys haven’t seen what we’ve seen. You haven’t seen people being eaten alive, screaming in agony. Sick or dead, they’re dangerous.”

Maggie was silent for a moment. “When Glenn and I went into town yesterday, one of those things almost got me. He saved my life.”

“Then you understand.” You whispered. “Please, help us make your father understand. Maybe we can move them somewhere else, away from where we all sleep. There’s gotta be a way.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Maggie agreed. “I don’t know if he’s going to change his mind but I’ll try.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

Maggie nodded before turning around and heading back towards the farmhouse. You took one last look at the barn before making your way back to camp.

Hunter sat on a stump, awaiting your return. As soon as he saw you approaching, he stood up.

“Were you at the barn?”

You nodded. “It looks safe enough for now. I wouldn’t worry too much, alright? That’s my job.”

Hunter nodded, though you could feel his discomfort. Knowing what he’d experienced out there, the last thing you wanted was for him to be scared here. You had thought this place was as safe as it gets now and part of you felt guilty having brought him back here. Sure, there were much worse places to be, but you wanted the best for him.

“Listen,” you spoke, crouching down to his level. “I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? We’ll figure out a way to make this place safer for all of us. I just need you to be careful and always stay within eyesight of an adult.”

“I will, I promise.” Hunter responded. After a moment of silence, his face began to crinkle. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” You smiled.

“Yesterday Carl got to go with everyone else. He got to practice shooting a gun. Why couldn’t I go?”

Your face fell at his question, as you had no idea how to answer it. “Did you want to go?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought about sending you with them but I wasn’t sure if you were ready for it.” You spoke plainly. “It’s a big responsibility but if you’d like to learn we can start slow. I can teach you how to handle them safely and we can work our way towards shooting lessons.”

Hunter’s face lit up. “Really?”

“As long as you feel ready. It’s important that you know how to be safe around them. For you and for others. Do you promise to take it seriously?”

“I promise.”

You nodded. “Come with me.”

The two of you walked towards the RV, making your way inside. You gestured for him to sit down at the table while you grabbed a pistol from the bag of guns.

“First, I want to show you how to handle them.” You spoke. “There are two big rules you need to follow when you’re holding a gun. First, never point it at anyone you don’t intend to shoot. Second, keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.”

You continued to go through all the rules of gun safety, Hunter listening intently. Then, you allowed him to hold one you’d made sure was empty. You could see he was being thoughtful, following every direction and piece of advice you gave him.

“They aren’t as scary as I thought.” He spoke, slowly handing the gun back to you. “I mean, I know they can be dangerous if you’re not careful.”

“I get what you mean. They’re also dangerous if others aren’t careful.” You nodded. “I’ll send you with the others for shooting practice next time.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Hunter smiled.

You put the gun away before turning back to the boy, ruffling his hair. “I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

…

Hours passed by, uncertainty still weighing over yourself and the others. You’d seen Rick leave with Hershel and Jimmy earlier, nobody knowing where they had gone. In Rick’s absence, tensions only seemed to be running high and higher within your group.

Most of the group was sitting around the front porch of the farm house, waiting for some answers. Beth and Patricia sat with Carl and Hunter, teaching them how to play chess. Maggie and Glenn sat on the stairs together, clearly having moved past their earlier spat. You were surveying the land, hoping to see Rick approaching at any moment.

Instead, T-Dog and Andrea were approaching from the left of the porch.

“Do you know what’s going on?” T-Dog asked.

“Where is everyone?” Andrea added.

You and Glenn both approached them.

“You haven’t seen Rick?” Glenn questioned.

“Not since he went off with Hershel.” Andrea responded. “We were supposed to leave a couple hours ago.”

“Maybe that’s a good sign.” You spoke up.

Daryl and Carol now approached the four of you.

“Rick told us he was going out.” Carol said.

“Damn it. Isn’t anyone taking this seriously?” Daryl hissed. “We got us a damn trail.”

Daryl’s eyes focused on something in the distance, causing you all to turn in that direction. Shane was now approaching the group with the bag of guns on his shoulder and a shotgun in hand.

“What’s all this?” Daryl asked.

“You with me, man?” Shane questioned, handing Daryl the shotgun.

Daryl nodded, cocking the gun.

“Time to grow up.” Shane spoke, looking to Andrea. “You already got yours?”

“Yeah,” she responded. “Where’s Dale?”

“He’s on his way.”

“I thought we couldn’t carry.” T-Dog inquired.

Shane shoved your gun into your hands.

“We can’t.” You hissed, holding the gun as if it were live dynamite. “Shane, what the hell are you doing?”

Shane began handing out guns. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

“Rick is fighting to get Hershel to let us stay. You’re ruining any chances of that working.” You hissed in his ear. “You’re ruining everything.”

You could feel the anger radiating off of him, but instead of continuing to argue with you, he moved on.

“Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. Now we know it ain’t.” Shane turned to Glenn, offering him a gun. “What about you, man? You gonna protect yours?”

Glenn reluctantly took the gun.

“Can you shoot?” Shane asked Maggie.

“Can you stop?” She retorted. “If you do this, if you hand out these guns, my dad will make you all leave tonight.”

“We have to stay, Shane.” Carl spoke up.

Lori exited the farm house, placing her arms around Carl. “What is this?”

“Our downfall.” You mumbled.

“We ain’t going anywhere, okay?” Shane spoke. “Hershel, he’s just gotta understand. Okay? He’s just gonna have to.” He then approached Carl. “Now we need to find Sophia, am I right?”

Carl nodded as Shane held out a gun.

“Now I want you to take this. You take it, Carl, and you keep your mother safe. You do whatever it takes. You know how.”

Lori jumped between them, pushing Carl back. “Rick said no guns. This is not your call. This is not your decision to make.”

“Oh shit.”

You all turned to T-Dog before following his line of sight. In the distance, Jimmy came out of the trees, followed by a walker on a leash that Rick was holding. Hershel was also leading another walker behind him.

“What is that?” Shane asked, before beginning to run towards them.

Everyone began to follow him, including yourself. You could tell they were leading these walkers towards the barn.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shane snapped.

“Shane, just back off.” Rick demanded.

Hershel looked around. “Why do your people have guns?”

“Are you kidding me?” Shane asked. “You see what they’re holding onto?”

“I see who I’m holding onto.” Hershel responded.

Shane let out a small huff. “No, man, you don’t.”

“Shane, just let us do this and then we can talk.” Rick pleaded.

“What do you want to talk about, Rick? These things ain’t sick. They’re not people. They’re dead!” He yelled, circling them. “Ain’t gonna feel nothing for them ‘cause all they do is kill. These things right here, they’re the things that killed Amy. They killed Otis. They’re gonna kill all of us.”

“Shane, shut up!” Rick snapped.

“Hershel man, let me ask you something. Could a living breathing person walk away from this?” Shane pulled out his gun, shooting one of the walkers three times. “That’s three rounds in the chest. Could someone who’s alive just take that? Why is it still coming?”

You were watching in horror as the scene unfolded in front of you. As much as you felt Shane was doing this the wrong way, you knew deep down that he was right. No matter how much you wanted to stop him, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Shane shot the walker twice more. “That’s its heart, its lungs. Why is it still coming?” He shot the walker another three times.

“Shane, enough!” Rick screamed.

“Yeah, you’re right, man. That is enough.” Shane spoke, walking over to the walker and shooting it in the head.

Hershel fell to his knees, still holding onto the leash as his face went pale.

“Enough risking our lives for a little girl who’s gone! Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us. Enough.” Shane continued. “Rick, it ain’t like it was before. Now if y’all want to live, if you want to survive, you’ve got to fight for it! I’m talking about fighting right here, right now.”

Shane ran towards the barn, grabbing a pickaxe and beating on the chain lock holding the doors together. Everyone watched on in shock, unsure of what to do at this point. There was no stopping Shane.

Rick begged Hershel to take hold of the walker still alive, but it was no use. Hershel was in shock, his eyes darting between the walker Shane had put down and the barn.

Shane finally broke through the lock, removing the wood plank also holding the doors together. He began banging on the doors, gaining the attention of all of the walkers inside. Then, he backed up to join the rest of you.

Everyone held up their guns, preparing for what was about to happen. In a matter of seconds, walkers began pouring out of the barn and the sound of gunshots filled the air.

“Maggie?” Glenn asked.

Maggie nodded, tears in her eyes as she held her father close. “Go, it’s okay.”

You hadn’t fired a single shot, almost paralyzed in shock and horror. You knew they were dead. You also knew how much they meant to Hershel and Maggie. All you could think about was if they had been your loved ones. Would you have the strength to do what needed to be done?

Shane turned to Rick, shooting the walker he was still holding onto. Reluctantly, Rick drew his gun and joined the group.

Your eyes landed on Hunter, who was looking at you with uncertainty. In that moment, you knew you needed to set an example. You couldn’t be afraid to do what you needed to do to protect him. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward and lifted your gun, shooting one of the walkers in the head.

Over a dozen walkers had fallen before no more came out. The gunfire stopped as everyone looked around, observing the scene before them. Nobody spoke, so the sound of groans and shifting feet coming from inside the barn caught your attention.

You watched in horror as one final walker exited the barn.

Sophia.

As she stepped into the sunlight, you noticed a large bite in the side of her neck. Carol let out a guttural scream, running towards her daughter. Daryl quickly caught the woman, stopping her from getting too close.

“Sophia.” Carol cried, falling to the ground in Daryl’s arms.

Sophia began to walk towards you, stumbling over the bodies laying on the ground, her growls growing more intense. You could hear Carl crying behind you and Hunter began to hug your waist. Throwing your arms around him, you held him closer.

You watched as Rick stepped forward, walking past your entire group to get to Sophia. Her growls only grew louder the closer she got to him. Rick raised his gun slowly as you closed your eyes, a loud bang echoing out through the farm lands followed by a thud of her small body hitting the ground.

-------

AN: Here we are with chapter seven of season two! I hope you all enjoyed this one. We are now entering the second half of this season and I'm very excited. Please remember to like and reblog if you enjoyed <3

#daryl dixon; unearthed #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader

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mechformers · 2 years ago

Text

Ma Miles - Ch. 15

7k words

Chapter warnings: Injuries, depictions of wounds, blood, Mo'at's mind is dirty, the reader is giving Quaritch a "sponge" bath (I swear, I tried my hardest not to make it...sexy), soiled underwear (I'm really so sorry, but the guy's been unconscious for quite a while - I don't make the rules lol)

I'm a day late, I'm so sorry... Thank you so much for leaving comments, though! It's my absolute weakness and it makes me so incredibly happy to know what you're thinking and feeling. So really, thank you so much!

(If you want to be tagged with the updated chapters, please leave your @ myusername in the comments! ) Previous chapter | Masterpost | Chapter 16

The worst was not behind you. In fact, the worst stood right before you in the form of your worst nightmare come to life. You hadn’t been long in the air on the second day when a screeching sound of an obviously distressed ikran called in the distance, only for Hawnu to call back to it, responding to the call. Your ikran sent worrying emotions through your bond but it wasn’t before the other ikran came closer, and you recognized it, that you understood why.

Cupcake flew toward you, her distressed, desperate screeches almost painfully loud as she flew in circles before you. She was still wearing the heavy armor that the sky people had adorned the ikrans with. It seems to have been ripped in places by something big and strong enough to inflict such damage to an ikran. Hawnu chirps at Cupcake, before changing direction, silently asking you to bear with him through the bond. Putting your hand on his neck, you shift Neteyam’s weight against you before turning your head to look at Mo’at. The older woman just nods, her expression one of surprise, yet…not? You don’t have time to wonder what it was about as Hawnu picks up altitude before rounding a corner you knew all too well.

Looking to the other side of the cliffs, you gasped at the forest view that plagued your dreams as much as it soothed you. The what if’s had been spinning around in your mind for weeks, never leaving you alone for long enough to find rest. Would things have turned out differently if only… Hawnu lands on the edge of the cliff, his powerful wings folding forcefully as he steps further from the edge before lowering down. Already, you can see the Na’vi laying motionless a few yards away. While Mo’at and her ikran land, you steel your nerves before absentmindedly breaking tsaheylu with Hawnu. Securing Neteyam on his back, you look back at Mo’at before stepping down. In the back of your mind, you already know who it is.

A heavy weight settles in your stomach as you approach the demon. He’s lying on his side by the tree line, the shadow just barely covering his body. Turning the demon around on his back, your heart clenches painfully at what you see. The demon’s face is swollen, blood long since stopped running, the fluid caking over where gravity had led its trail. The cuts littering his body are just as swollen as those on his face are, the infection has long since started. He’s too pale, his breaths shallow and his body alarmingly thin compared to how massive he had been only a few weeks past. Beside him, rotting meat and fruits lay all but untouched. Cupcake had obviously tried to fend for him alone, the ikran most likely with him when...

“Does he live?” Mo’at asks, her voice clipped, almost emotionless.

“Yes,” You confirm, your own voice hard. “He’s badly hurt,”

You say it more as an afterthought as you rise. Looking around the cliff clearing, you try to collect your thoughts, try to decide what to do. In reality, it shouldn’t be a question at all, not after what he had done to your son, to you - to the Na’vi people and Pandora. Leaving him here would mean death. Of that, you were fairly certain. If he was this close to his home without the sky people having picked him up, it would mean that he truly had no one else than Cupcake to take care of him.

Turning your back to him, you walk back to Hawnu. The demon had caused all of this, had brought this on himself. Eywa was ready to accept him into her warm embrace, but he had rejected her and all of her children in the worst way possible. Getting up on Hawnu, you spare him one last look, seeing how Cupcake moves closer, nudging his motionless body as she chirps at him. His body is all but lifeless as he flops around to his side.

Shouting angrily to the skies, to Eywa, to… everything, you get off of Hawnu again. You can hear Mo’at’s approving hum as you all but stomp over to the demon. Rolling him over to his back again, you take your knife and start cutting at the armor-like coverings he’s wearing. Huffing to yourself, you wonder what good it is when the material gives way too easily before your knife. You fumble a bit with the big chest piece, even though you had watched the recoms take them on and off before. Having removed all weapons and armor from his body, leaving the demon in his tight-looking little tweng, you try your best to sit him up before hoisting him over your shoulder.

It’s almost impossible, his sheer mass, although he’s grown thin, almost too heavy. You wobble your way over to Hawnu before falling to your knees when you try to put him down again. Kicking his deadweight off of you, a split second of fear strikes you at causing even more damage to him. The demon’s body just slides against Hawnu’s flank, however. Getting up to your feet, you walk over to Cupcake, trying to get a handle on how her armor works. It’s punctured in odd places, as if something had bitten her neck, but when you touch your finger to the holes, there’s nothing but firm skin beneath. The armor had obviously protected her, but it needed to go.

Turning back to the discarded weapons, you take the big knife out of its sheath. Cupcake is surprisingly calm as you struggle to cut through the armor binding her. Only when the last piece of armor falls, does she screech loudly and spread her wings as she shakes her long neck. Her joy is enough to put a smile back on your face. Putting the knife back in its sheath, you stare down at it for a moment before bringing it with you, stepping over the demon as you reach for Hawnu’s bag.

“Can you do anything for his wounds?” You ask Mo’at, noticing how she’s still staring at the demon.

It is not lost on you how the story goes. You had been at hometree yourself during the attack, but when some people had fled with the first smoke, you had been lucky enough to have been grabbed, escaping the massacre that had followed. Your Olo’eyktan, Mo’at’s mate, had lost his life that day, and shortly after, Tsu’tey had followed. All thanks to the demon before you.

“When Eywa spoke to me of change to come, I did not expect it to happen this soon,” Mo’at starts, deep in thought as she continues to stare at the demon, “That this change would be him…”

She didn’t have to finish her sentence, you already understood, and why she had joined your journey suddenly became so clear. Mo’at had stayed behind when her family left the Omatikaya, the Tsahìk no doubt training her replacement for the day when she could join her daughter again.

“How long have you known?” You can’t help yourself from asking, not even when Mo’at’s all-seeing eyes shift to you, pinning you down.

“Eywa spoke of a difficult change to come shortly before Neytiri and her family left the Omatikaya. I interpreted the challenge would be to let them go, but when you arrived with Neteyam still alive, the Great Mother showed me that the changes were still to come, that it would be the hardest challenge of my life,” The way Mo’at clenches her fist lest you understand just how difficult this was to the Tsahìk. “No challenge will ever be more difficult than the demon, Y/n,”

“No medicine will help him in this state. The demon will need to be cleaned.” Mo’at hums cooly before looking at Neteyam, “Your ikran cannot carry his weight in addition to the two of you. My grandson will fly with me,”

There’s nothing you can say about that. She is your Tsahìk, your clan’s spiritual leader, and therefore the one in charge. What she says goes. Walking over to Neteyam, you’re grateful that the young man sleeps well. They would need to find a place for him to rest soon anyway, so you might as well search for somewhere safe to stay for the night. The demon would, undoubtedly, need a thorough cleaning with the way he stank and his wounds caked with old blood and puss. You just hoped he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.

Carrying Neteyam over to Mo’at, helping her lift the young man up to sit in front of her on the ikran, you turn back to stare at the demon again. His heavy mass had been daunting the short distance you had carried him over to Hawnu, but to actually lift him to sit astride your ikran would be a nightmare. For a second, you wondered if hauling him over Hawnu’s back would be alright, but you quickly cast that idea aside. For some unfathomable reason, you had decided to help the father of your son, and help him, you would. It still didn’t mean you had to be happy about it, but at least you could look Spider in the eyes and say that you tried.

Sighing deeply, you pray to Eywa for strength as you pull his arms over your shoulders, hoisting him up to lay over your back. On wobbly legs, you manage to rise high enough to lift his leg over Hawnu’s neck, but as you try to push, the sheer mass of the demon slides down your back instead, his weight too much for you to hold back. Like a bag of seeds being dropped to the ground, the demon coils into a heap as he hits the ground.

Growling, you bend down to harshly pull on his stupidly heavy arm. The demon is impossibly heavy, impossibly long, and stupidly uncooperative in this unhelpful state of his. Eventually, you manage to drape him over Hawnu’s back, his long legs dangling on each side as you try your best to balance him on Hawnu’s back, only to realize that he’s sitting the wrong way around. Hissing with annoyance, you step up on Hawnu’s back, shoving the demon back as you take your place. Balancing his body you push your legs beneath his, grunting at the added weight it brings to your own balance. In the end, the demon is all but sitting in your lap, his massive body held against yours. Making tsaheylu with Hawnu, you beg for his forgiveness, asking him to be strong while you try to balance the demon’s weight.

Looking back at Mo’at and Neteyam, you signal that you’re ready to move. The smirk on Mo’at’s lips is not lost on you, nor is the raised eye when you huff at the demon as his head slides down your shoulder. He stinks and it pains your nose to have him this close to you. Taking off after Mo’at, you wobble slightly to find your balance until Hawnu manages to stretch his wings in the warm midday air. You needed to find a safe place to stay for the night, somewhere, preferably, close enough to a pond. But proximity to a pond also meant proximity to predatory animals in the woods. You would need Hawnu’s help to both get the demon up and down from a fitting tree.

Following Mo’at, you let your mind wander to the demon in your lap. On so many levels, you wanted to just let him slide off Hawnu, lean your head over to watch him plummet to his death, and shrug your shoulders as you continued on your way. But you knew that this was your bleeding heart talking to you, its bruises fresh as the gashes bleed uncontrollably. You don’t even want to think of the reason why, but the thought springs forth anyway.

During your months as the demon’s captive, you saw a side to him you hadn’t expected. Qualities that spoke straight to your heart, to your mind, and most importantly, to your soul. It was a young girl’s foolish hope to deny it any longer. You had fallen in love with the man in your arms, fallen in love with the father of your child in the most horrible of conditions. Yet, if you really dug deep, you couldn’t regret it. The man before you had such potential and you could only guess that it was what the Great Mother had seen in him when the atokirina had embraced him in his entirety all those months ago.

You don’t notice how your hand finds its way up to cup the back of his head, holding him protectively closer, nor the way Mo’at’s smiles as she looks back at you. Deep in your thoughts, there’s only you and him, fighting your way through the wilderness of Pandora to get to your son. There is no betrayal, no harsh foreign words as he takes your son away from you for a second time, there’s no anger and disappointment over making your son cry. There is no burning of innocent villages or killing of sacred animals.

A sharp whistle pulls you out of your musings, however, Mo’at gesturing for a descent toward a mountainside. Confused, you follow the older woman’s lead. Looking back you were relieved to see that Cupcake followed your lead, still flying close to Hawnu. Your confusion, however, only increases when, upon landing, you’re met with nothing of significance. There’s nothing there but the wild beauty of the Great Mother.

“Send your ikrans away,” Mo’at hums as she breaks tsaheylu with her own ikran before gathering Neteyam in her arms and siding off.

Following suit, you ask Hawnu to stay safe and to watch over Cupcake, before clumsily sliding off of his back while balancing the demon. Leaning him over your shoulder, you back up until his long legs slid off of Hawnu and his full weight rested on you. Grunting, you fold your arms under the demon’s bottom, careful to slide your hands under his tail so as to not put pressure on it. Hawnu doesn’t need to be asked twice before taking off, his mighty wings spreading as he lifts off of the ground, cupcake and Mo’at’s ikran following his lead immediately.

“Come,” Mo’at calls to you, the older woman already moving toward the mountainside.

Walking with the demon hoisted over your shoulder like this is difficult. You’re not the strongest Na’vi, neither warrior nor gatherer. Your contribution to the clan never depended on your physical strength. Still, you put one foot in front of the other as your thighs burned under the demon’s weight.

“What you are to see stays between us, child,” Mo’at turns to you, her expression one of stony seriousness, making your spine straighten as you nod your head in understanding.

Giving a minute nod of her own, Mo’at shifts Neteyam in her arms before turning back to the mountainside. Stepping up to the vines climbing up the rockside she reaches into one of the small pouches on her hips with one hand. There’s a powder-like substance in her hand when it emerges and you watch with big eyes as she blows the powder over the vines, the flora glowing brightly before pulling back from the rocks, creating a door to what hides behind.

“Do not touch the vines. They are poisonous,” Mo’at’s clipped voice calls as she enters the tunnel that has just been revealed behind the vines.

The passage is small, meant for only one to pass through, but as you maneuver both yourself and the demon though, you move slowly to ensure that neither one of you touches the vines. What greets you once you pass through the dark opening is nothing but a narrow, dark passage. Still, you follow Mo’at as she continues to walk further into the tunnel. It continues for a long while, the temperature dropping the further into the tunnel you walk. The scent of moist cave increases and just for a second, you let yourself doubt your Tsahìk. But like everything else, your doubt is unfounded as the tunnel suddenly opens up to a huge cave. Before you, bioluminescent light awakens as you step further into the cave, the huge space waking to life as it reveals its wonders.

“What is this place?” You hear yourself ask, wonder and awe icing every syllable of your words.

“This is a sacred place, one of many hidden, only to be shared between Tsahìk for safe travels or spiritual guidance,” Mo’at hums as she places Neteyam’s still sleeping body up against a rock.

Stepping further into the cave, you let your eyes wander over the illuminated walls to the right, following its lights until they rest on smaller illuminated cups of water, steam rising from the surfaces. On the other side of the cave sat what looked to be a couple of nests, the blankets removed as if the place had been unused for quite some time. To your left, a cooking area was made, the firestones neatly laid in a circle under a pot. The cave had everything one would need, but what truly took your breath away was the huge pond before you, its round surface nestled up against the rock wall. It was huge and when you stepped up to it, you could see that it continued underwater and further into the mountain.

“You should wash the demon,” Mo’at speaks up as she fluffs a folded blanket before laying it down on the closest nest. “The cups over there are heated, the water changes with the current underneath, so don’t drop him,”

Once more, you feel the sheer massive weight of the demon on your shoulders, his presence momentarily forgotten as you inspected the cave. Now though, your shoulder burned as you tried to gently put him down, failing miserably when the mass of his body came rushing down once his weight was shifted. His bottom hits the ground hard and you hiss in sympathy as his tail takes the full force of his descent beneath him. Stretching, you look down at him, wrinkling your nose at the state of him. He’s soiled and downright disgusting where he’s discarded, his tweng beyond ruined where it holds onto his narrow hips for dear life. Cleaning him would be a nightmare.

“There are some spare clothing stored in the cave, but I do not know if any of them will fit him. The demon is quite big,” Mo’at calls from behind you, still fussing over Neteyam, changing his wound.

Making sure that the demon won’t fall into one of the cups of water, you walk over to Mo’at, moving to the chest she points at. Opening it, you’re met with different kinds of clothing. There are capes, chest pieces, twengs, and leg protectors. They’re all in different sizes, but the demon is huge. Although his waist is narrow, it’s still thicker than any Na’vi you had ever seen, the sheer mass behind his body making him bigger than usual. Neither of the twengs you held up would fit him, his big bottom would be taking up most of the cloth, giving him little protection. But then again, the tweng he wore now offered no front or back cover so maybe it would be alright?

Picking the longest tweng, a deep green with leather straps, you hold the cloaks up, hoping that one of them would be big enough to cover him. Eywa smiles upon you when the very first cloak you hold up turns out to be a broad and long one. Happy with the choices, you neatly place the other items back into the chest, bringing the tweng and cloak with you. However, when you approach the devil once more, the daunting realization of what you have to do dawns on you. It’s been many years since the last time you’ve had to clean a soiled tweng, and back then, it had been your son’s small toddler tweng.

The man before you was certainly not a toddler and certainly not small. Hesitating, you look pleadingly back at Mo’at, hoping that she might show you mercy this once. As a healer, she surely must have dealt with this before, right? However, when your eyes meet, the older woman shakes her head firmly before getting back to whatever she was doing in the cooking area. Sighing deeply, you close your eyes as you once more ask the Great Mother to lend you her strength. It doesn’t work… When you open your eyes, the demon still lies there motionless and dirty.

Clenching your jaw, you put the new clothing down a safe distance from the cups of water before you kneel before the demon. Turning him over on his side, you try to look for the fastening of his tweng, but after a while, it becomes clear that there are none. Much like the demon’s leg coverings, his tweng does not have straps to hold it in place. Grabbing your knife, you cut his tail free before you turn him over on his back once more. Taking hold of the impossibly soft material, you cut the first leg free before moving over to the other, closest to you.

It’s not lost on you how his bare body would be revealed to you without his consent, on how you would see his bare form for the very first time in a situation like this. But he could not stay in the state he was in. The alternative would be to tell your son that your stiffness cost his father his life when it easily could have been saved, had you not been so shy. Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you let your knife slice through the material, bending it back and pulling the twengs down between his legs.

“Hmm… not bad,” Mo’at hums from behind you, her face clouded with impressed humor as she stares at the demon. “Here, you will need this to lean him,”

Taking the bowl and cloth from her hands, you put them down by the cup of water closest to you. Removing your own tweng and chest piece, you step into the water sighing with relief as the warm water soothes your nerves. For just a moment, you let your eyes wander over the demon’s body, his powerful muscles still impressive, despite how thin he had grown. Your gaze followed as his massive chest rose and fell with each shallow breath he took, his stomach moving as it caved between his ribs and hip bones. His thighs went on for ages, making way for his incredible height, where he towered over most Na’vi. The gift toe on each foot made your ears twitch. Although you were used to the extra digits from having Spider, to see the adult Na’vi version of it made you stop for a second.

Sighing, you grab his ankles, gently pulling him inch by inch into the cup of water. His heavy body forces you to use everything you have to be able to pull him in, but slowly his knees rest on the brim, his legs dangling into the hot water. Clenching your teeth, you look up over the rest of him, dreading how the heaviest part of him still remained. This time, however, you were unable to stop your gaze from landing on the demon’s genitals. Immediately, your cheeks heat at what you see. You’re unable to keep the gasp from leaving your lips as your eyes grow big with intimidated shock and curiosity. The demon was, indeed, big. Even in his rested state, his member nestled heavy and thick in the crook of his hip, his testicles full and big beneath.

Averting your eyes, you’re met with the knowing shrug of your Tsahìk, the older woman’s smirk bringing you even more embarrassment at getting caught. With cheeks burning, you reach for the demon’s hand, pulling him sideways until he is ready to tip over into the water. Stepping forward, you lift his arms to rest over your shoulders before pulling him in. It’s not ideal, the demon’s height and weight immediately pulling you down with him as the rest of his body follows. Gasping you hurry to keep his head over the water, spreading your legs to hold his weight as he drapes over you.

Locking your arms around his waist, you breathe heavily as you let the moving water do its thing. Distantly, you wished you had something like this at home, the constantly shifting water bringing fresh, hot water to the surface as the dirty water disappeared. When you deemed the demon to have soaked long enough, you clumsily moved over to the edge to grab the cloth and bowl that Mo’at had offered you. Immediately, you recognize the strong scent of soap. Dipping the cloth into the water, you squeeze it gently before dipping it into the bowl. Gently, you let the cloth drag over the demon’s shoulders, letting the lazy studs form before being washed away again.

Inch by inch, you clean the demon’s back. Pushing your thigh between his legs, you gently lean him back until his head rests on the brim and he’s spread out before you. All too gently, you wipe at the crusted blood on his face, wincing at the swelling as fresh blood bubbles forth, only to slide down his slack face. He looks almost gentle while his face is slack with sleep and it reminds you of how his face should have looked, all nuzzled up and content as he snuggles close to you. The thought makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest, your ears flattening against your skull as you wince.

Dipping the cloth into the bowl of soap, you continue to clean the demon, letting the studs gather over his arms, his chest, his torso until there is only one area that remains. Steeling yourself, you take a deep breath as you dip the cloth into the bowl of soap once more. Resting both of his arms over the brim of the water, you grab the cloth while cupping the demon’s member in your hand, bringing it down. Guiding the cloth, you clean his privates, making sure to get every crook and cranny as you lifted his tail out of the way. In the end, the only thing that remained was to hoist him up and out of the water.

Which proved more difficult than you had first anticipated. In the end, after the demon slides you both back into the water, Mo’at offers to help. With an arm in each of your hands, the two of you manage to drag him out of the water. Sitting down beside him, you breathe heavily as Mo’at walks back to Neteyam, the older woman chuckling as she mutters to herself. Getting your breath back in your lungs, you take the offered blankets that Mo’at holds out to you. Picking a nest a little further away, you place the blankets around in a comfortable manner before stepping over to the demon again.

Lifting him up while wet was even more difficult, but you managed to bend him over your shoulder as you wobbled your way over to the nest you had prepared. Gently laying him down in the middle, you take one of the blankets and start wiping his body down, drying off what little water remained. Holding up the tweng, you roll him over on his side as you place the leather over his hips. Binding it around his tail, you fasten the fabric before placing it comfortably between the demon’s cheeks. Rolling him to his back again, you gently cop his member and testicles as you drape the fabric over them, making sure to pull them back as you fasten the fabric to the front. Tightening the leather, you step back out of the nest, walking over to the cup of water to put your own tweng and chest piece on.

When you finish, Mo’at is already sitting by his side, binding his wounds in paste and leaves while she chants silently. Something you didn’t know you were holding back shifts inside of you as relief washes over you. Turning her head, Mo’at looks at you with a knowing expression on her face.

“Come,” Mo’at gestures with a shift of her head, “You should learn how to do this,”

And just like that, you find yourself learning how to dress the demon’s wounds, learning what to apply where and which salve and paste to use. Smiling to yourself, you enjoyed learning about this, enjoyed the fact that you now would know how to help if it ever was needed again.

“What makes Neteyam sleep like this?” You find yourself asking when you’ve finished and Mo’at has approved of your work.

“I mixed a sleeping paste with his food to make his travels easier. I had not expected our journey to be interrupted so soon,” Mo’at replies as she lays down beside her grandson, “The Metkayina clans are not too far from here. I had hoped to reach Awa'atlu tomorrow before eclipse,”

“Do you know the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk?” You ask while sitting down beside the demon, looking at him while he rests.

“I do,” Mo’at looks at you, studying your face as she thinks. “They assisted Jake Sully after the attack on hometree. Toruk Makto gathered what clans he could reach before the sky people came for the Vitraya Ramunong, before he came,” She points at the demon.

“Did they know each other, is that why they’re arguing?” You find yourself asking, flinching when Mo’at narrows her eyes.

“The demon was Jake Sully’s leader when he first came to us. They wanted what was in the soil, beneath the hometree, and once they got that, they wanted more. But it did not seem as if the demon wanted anything other than Toruk Makto,” Mo’at starts, her face getting a far-off stare. “Jake Sully betrayed the sky people to be one of us, to protect the people and Pandora. This Colonel Miles Quaritch did not like that,”

“I’m sorry, “ You don’t know what else to say, “Is that why Neytiri never accepted Spider?”

“My daughter holds great anger for the demon. He caused the death of her father and the death of so many more than Eytukan. Spider is the son of the demon, yet he is your son,”

“Spider is nothing like the demon,” You hiss, your ears snapping back close to your skull in defense.

“Spider is Omatikaya, Y/n,” Mo’at shoots back with such strength that it makes goosebumps spread over your skin, “Yet, he cannot deny his parentage. He has a foot in both worlds, it yet remains to see if it will be his strength or downfall,”

Closing your eyes, your tail wraps tightly around your thigh in an attempt at comforting yourself. I don't work. You want your son, you need to know that he’s safe, that he’s not hurt or lonely. Although Neytiri did not care for him like she would a Na’vi-born child, you knew that he was safe with her and Toruk Makto. Lo’ak and Kiri were with them and so, Spider would not be lonely. Sighing deeply, you open your eyes to stare at the demon. He had caused so much suffering and pain, and yet, here you were; taking care of him, nursing him back to health.

“Trust the Great Mother, Y/n, she will guide the way,” Mo’at speaks before fluffing a blanket, “Everything happens for a reason,”

And just like that, the older woman lies down to sleep, leaving you to stare at the demon alone. Sleep doesn’t come easy that night. As you stare at the demon, your mind wanders the memories of your time together, analyzing, remembering, soaking up the hurt and pain, and when you woke again, your heart felt heavier than it had been for quite some time. You went through changing his wounds with Mo’at by your side, surprised to see the swelling and infection already starting to heal. You feed him enriched fluids, helping him swallow the small amounts of liquid before eating something for yourself. Packing up, you clean and put away what you had used before once more hoisting the demon up over your shoulder. The trek out of the cave this time felt longer and heavier than the previous night.

You don’t struggle as much as you did the previous day when getting the demon up on Hawnu’s back, getting settled easier than before. You drape the cape over the demon’s shoulders in an attempt to protect his body from the unforgiving sun and the cold air as you flew. Smiling, you huff a small chuckle when Cupcake wanders over to smell the demon’s body, obviously approving when she chirps at you.

It’s not until the first break that Neteyam awakens, the young man’s eyes widened as he realizes what his grandmother had done. He was not pleased, Neytiri’s frown mirrored on his face as he grumbled at Mo’at for keeping him ”out of the game”, claiming that he was supposed to be a warrior. To the older woman’s credit, she doesn’t rise to his childishness, only waving him away as she helps you prepare more paste and salve for the demon. Too late, you realize what seeing the demon with them does to the young man.

“What is he doing here?” Neteyam hisses and it’s the most venomous sound you have ever heard in your life, “Grandma?!”

“Hush child,” Mo’at barks, but it’s of no use. In a matter of seconds, Neteyam has grabbed a knife and is charging for the demon.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’ve discarded the salve you were mashing into a smooth paste and thrown yourself protectively over the demon’s body. You’re just in time as Neteyam’s knife slices through the air, the blade nicking your skin as you manage to dislodge it from his hand. It’s not lost on you that had he not already been weakened by his wound, the knife would have gone straight through your arms and into your chest.

“Step aside, Neteyam,” You hiss furiously as blood drips down your arm.

“You’re protecting him?” Neteyam shrieks and the sound makes your heart ache because you feel his pain.

Protecting the demon goes against everything in your mind, yet, your body had reacted before you even had time to register what was happening, your body instinctively knowing what to do before your mind did.

“It is the Great Mother’s will, Neteyam,” Mo’at interjects, wrapping her hand over her grandson’s shoulder. “We cannot question Eywa’s choices, no matter how much we disagree with it,”

“He killed Granpa, he killed Sylwanin,” Neteyam hisses, and the words sent such an instant reaction through Mo’at that it made Neteyam step back.

“Who says this, child?” Mo’at hisses furiously.

“Mom and dad said that-”

“Your mother and father are fools, blinded by rage. The demon did not kill my mate. A piece of wood from the hometree did. And Sylwanin’s rage was what got her killed,” It looked like the words pained Mo’at to admit, but at the same time, it looked like something loosened inside of her as her face mellowed out.

“The sky people have caused much devastation and sorrow, Neteyam, but they are not to blame for every bad thing that has happened. They are not to blame for every warrior's death or every accident that has happened, no matter how much we will it. The Great Mother has a plan for all of us and for some, that journey ends before others. I believe that’s why we were given the Vitraya Ramunong so that we can speak with their souls,”

“My Eytukan knows and accepts his death, knowing that Jake Sully will do what he can for the people. Sylwanin and Tsu’tey are reunited, finally together like they always wanted to. Their journey has ended while ours still continues,” Mo’at holds Neteyam to her chest as the young man cries, her eyes meeting yours as you stare open-eyed at her.

“The path Eywa has created for us is not always the easiest, but it is the right one,” Mo’at finishes, and for a moment, you feel as if she’s speaking to you directly.

Looking down at the demon, you stare at his peacefully resting face. The ugly bruises have all but disappeared, the swelling has almost gone too. His cuts still remain, but even they have scabbed over, the paste and salve Mo’at have mixed, working faster than you thought possible. Stepping away from the demon, you clutch the cut on your arm, relieved to see that it’s not deep. Wiping the blood away from your skin, you take some of the salve you had been mixing, hissing at the sting that it causes when you apply it.

Turning your back to the others, you start the process of changing the demon’s bindings again, getting him ready for the journey ahead once more. You’ve just finished feeding the demon, helping him swallow the liquid when Neteyam moves closer, his ears pinned back against his skull, his tail wrapped tightly around his thigh.

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you,” He stutters, unable to meet your eyes, “I’m sorry,”

“How is your wound, Neteyam?” You decide to ask instead, smiling gently at him.

“It hurts, but it’s getting better,” He mumbles, still unable to meet your eyes.

“When the demon took spider, I went after him,” You start, deciding that the young man deserved to know how you had ended up where you were today. So you tell him everything, tell him about how you had taught the unit the Na’vi way, told him how they had accepted Eywa in their hearts, about how their minds started to follow suit. You told him about how the Great Mother had embraced the demon, sending a sign so strong you could not deny it. And when you had told him everything there was to tell, you told him about how something had changed, about how everything fell to ruin and the events of the Metkayina had happened. It’s not lost on you how Mo’at listens in on the conversation, or how her tail flicks as she comes to her own conclusions, filling in answers to questions only she knows.

“I thought they would go home after everything,” Neteyam mumbles, his gentle eyes finally meeting yours. “I thought they would bring us home, that we would stop running. I didn’t know they… I didn’t know they stayed behind,”

“It’s alright, Neteyam. Spider is safe with your family and now, your grandmother is with us. Everything is as it should be,” Smiling at him, you lift his chin with your fingers, chuckling lightly when his ears twitch with embarrassment. “We should get moving so that we can see them again,”

“I would like that,” Neteyam smiles and you pull him close, giving the young man a hug. It seems it’s what he needs when he melts into you, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it almost borders on uncomfortable. Cupping the back of his head, you kiss the top. “You’re alright,”

Packing up, you’re on your way once more, soaring through the warm wind as the breeze of the Metkayina area greets you. It isn’t long before there’s nothing but sea around you and then, in the distance, the island groups of the Metkayina clans. The closer you get, the more horrifying the realization is that the villages you’re meeting are the very ones that the demon in your arms burnt to the ground.

As you fly past the first one, you can see they’ve started to rebuild, but it’s a small comfort as you fly past it. The next two did not fare any better, until suddenly, there were no more burnt villages. Your confusion only rises as Neteyam guides you through the island tribes until you reach a huge smattering of seawall terraces, the pools beautifully glittering as the Metkayina people go about their day. Awa'atlu is beautiful where it opens up before your eyes, the sandbanks in the see-through water making a soothing pattern from the skies.

Circling back to the seawall terraces, you call to announce your arrival, giving the people time to gather and collect themselves before you circle back, preparing to land. As the Tsahìk, you let Mo’at take the lead as your ikrans slowly descend on the furthest sandbank where the people have gathered. Cupcake follows Hawnu as he spreads his wings widely to make for a gentle landing, his powerful legs supporting you as he touches down, quickly tucking his wings back to make room for Cupcake to land beside him.

Breaking tsaheylu, you scoot back on Hawnu’s back while getting the demon’s heavy legs off of your own. Balancing the huge man on Hawnu’s back, you slide down from your ikran, your toes curling happily as they land in the warm, wet sand beneath you. Leaning the demon to rest over Hawnu’s back, you step away from him to follow Mo’at’s lead, watching how Neteyam is waiting for you while Mo’at greets the people and the Olo’eyktan as he steps forward. But before you manage to finish your greeting, a voice that immediately makes your knees buckle calls from just behind the Olo’eyktan.

“Mom!”

Chapter 14 | Masterpost | Chapter 16

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