#dragon…another dragon…another?? Dragon??

[reagan-the-saunders]

"Ar ghilas vir banal."

[whoisnotmyname]

I love this line lmao

[scribeofmorpheus]

and paired with the "in another world" line, this goes crazy. the idea that solas never once considered another world to be in, he always resolved himself to fix the one he (inadvertently) broke or fought for the one he was always a part of (during the war). yet lavellan's spirit and love are so singular--so rare, so precious and worthy of more than he feels he is capable of giving her in the world they both reside in--that for the first time (presumably) he yearns for a different one!

(but the irony is, in that other world, they might never have met--their love is so entangled within the results of his 'failures'; that "in another world" they may have been blind to each other; lavellan may have never come to be in the form she is in now!)

and yet! they make another world their's anyway--a world beyond the veil!

thinking about solas' "rare and marvelous spirit" comment and how much that truly means. try to imagine how many spirits solas has known in his long life. imagine the depth of his experience, communing with and learning from and befriending them. think of how he respects them, defends them. how he loves them. think of the weight of that understanding, and then put that weight behind his compliment. her singular spirit, out of innumerable others, is rare to him? countless years of wonder in the fade, and her spirit is worth his marvel?

[nebulaeternal]

⊹˚₊‧──── The Dragon's Claim ────‧₊˚⊹

―୨୧⋆ ˚GENRE/WARNING: f!xm, feral Sylus, double cocks, marking, biting, scratching, breeding, eating out, swearing, hybrid, porn w/little plot, overstim, blood, aphrodisiac saliva, feral sylus, and did I say feral sylus? yeah-

―୨୧⋆ ˚SUMMARY: After being exiled from Philos, you set out beyond the borders of your home in search of the crimson gem that would reinstate your citizenship. However, fate had other plans in store for you. You stumble into the dragon lair, unaware of its fate.

―୨୧⋆ ˚WORD COUNT: 3.6K

―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: AAAAAA SYLUS MYTH! I'm sorry I got so excited when it was announced and wrote this as fast as I could. I'm so sorry if it's not my best work; I just wanted to get it out as fast as possible. I hope you all enjoy it and share your thoughts on it! Please reblog and share, it would be greatly appreciated!

(Side note: I apologize for the messy tagging, this is my first time doing, bear with me. I did go back and edit this, so if you're rereading, let me know how the new changes are ;3)

―୨୧⋆ ˚LINKS: AO3 Version, Twitter

―୨୧⋆ ˚TAGLIST: @bookfreakk , @comatosebunny09, @local-twat, @alfredosaws, @n109dove, @rokuxx6, @minvirsa, @kyokoyya, @sapphic-daze, @quiet-oracle, @trishiepo0, @ikeepgettingloggedout, @lowkaylove, @nappatheyappa, @celestialforce, @acasualattempt, @le-monchou, @binibininghermosa, @chwesuh-imnida, @insidious-innocence, @heavenly-qingxin, @savourtheflavourgeez, @satansdaughter123, @mesaonline, @vampiirl, @kamisatomay018, @liireoe, @paradisekissmoon, @shitsylus , @jollibeaaa, @boinkboinkkitten, @magpie-the-goblin-girl, @tumbling-through-deepspace, @spirianaluna, @beykyuns , @aly4khq, @san5zu, @rafshottestgf, @mr-crawlings-wife, @twistedlaces1909, @deathrye , @elysiums-light, @xduskydollx , @meowchu7, @sylusloml, @chaoticfivesworld, @rene-lads-trashcan

You stood at the city's edge, casting one final glance back as the guards leveled their spears at you. The captain stepped forward, his voice as cold and commanding as it rang out into the silence. "Bring back the crimson gem from the dragon's cave beyond the border. Only then will you prove yourself worthy of rejoining the citizens of Philos."

The weight of his words sank in like stones. The city had been your whole life—your whole world, it was all you ever knew; the people, the community, everything—Now you were exiled, doomed to face the harsh unknown. Desperately, you pleaded, hoping for just a sliver of mercy. "Please—grant me a retri–"

"Silence!" The captain barked out, cutting you off sharply. "You are forbidden to speak unless you have the gem in hand. Only then will you earn another chance. Now go!"

The guards thrust their spears forward, forcing you to cross the threshold as you shuffled backward, stumbling on your feet. This was it. With your last ounce of hope shriveled, you turned around and stepped into the wilderness. Your heart thrummed loudly in your ears as you ventured further into the uncharted lands, left with nothing but a small satchel containing only a few days' worth of provisions. How you would survive beyond that was a question only time could answer. 

In the first few hours, you barely managed to go a hundred meters beyond the city threshold. The sight of Philos served as a tether to familiarity, a comfort you desperately clung to despite the rejection. However, as the sun dipped lower into the sky and the shadows stretched into darkness, waiting became a death sentence of its own. Your resolve now reformed–it was better to attempt to escape find this treasure than to face a perilous doom. It was a better fate than withering outside the city gates.

With a heavy heart, you ventured deeper into the uncharted wilderness, clutching your satchel as though its scarce contents could quell the turmoil within you. Hours turned to days, days to weeks, slowly blurring into months. Each step turns into a survival instinct. The wilderness you had once feared was now becoming a part of you, and you with it. A symphony of the unknown that you now call your new home. 

With each sunrise, the sting of longing for Philos dulled. You found peace within the wilderness, looking forward to each new day. You had been roaming around for quite a bit this particular day when the sky darkened with little warning. Looking around, you could faintly spot a jagged opening in the side of the rock face. You dashed for the opening, relieved to be sheltered from the heavy onslaught of the rain. 

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you wrung out your clothes. The cave walls danced faintly with shadows, lightning illuminating it brightly on occasion. Only then did it strike you—This was the cave. The one you had been banished to find, your only chance at regaining citizenship in Philos, was right under your feet.

A chill ran through you as its weight sunk in. You stared into the void, its darkness staring back at you, mocking you even. Another strike of lightning illuminated the cave, giving you a glimpse of what lies beyond. Swallowing up your fear, you cautiously made your way further inside, unable to shake the fear that the darkness wasn't empty. 

You clung desperately to your satchel, its meager contents unable to protect you now as the darkness swallowed you whole. Unable to see even your own hands in front of you, you took each step with caution. Almost as if the cave itself exhaled, you felt warm breath fanning your skin and immediately froze. Your breath caught in your chest, shallow and strained. 

Your blood ran cold when you felt something scaly and rigid run along your leg, wrapping itself around your waist. Every fiber in your being screamed at you to run, but instinct held you still, praying the creature would lose interest and retreat. But fate was not so kind. Not given a chance to react, this thing had tightened its grip, yanking you off your feet. You were mercilessly dragged further, your body sliding along the cold stone.

A shriek was torn from your throat as you fought and thrashed in an attempt to escape your mystery captor. As you were hauled further, the darkness began to shift, soft light flickering along the grimy cave walls, casting shadows that almost looked alive. Your screams quieted as your surroundings grew clearer, dread hanging in the air.

The scent of ash filled your nostrils. A voice booming into the silence, "Another miserable human sent to die a meaningless death by my hands." Your heart was pounding in your chest, unsure of how you would escape this time. "Nonetheless, I have other plans for you." the creature drawled as it finally entered the light.

As frightened as you should be, a part of you couldn't deny that he was the most gorgeous being you had ever laid your eyes on. The dragon-man that stood before you had an otherworldly allure. His silver hair glinted in the faint light, and his sharp, inhuman features were both menacing and beautiful, and those crimson eyes—you almost forgot the peril you were in.

The tail that had dragged you to your doom, now lazily traced a line around you as he prowled in slow circles, his piercing gaze examining you. "Yes…You'll do nicely.."

Your voice trembled as you managed to speak, "What—" In an instant, he moved like a blur, pinning you to the cold stone floor with a growl that emanated from deep within his chest. "Who gave you permission to speak?" He snarled, his voice low and threatening.

"Silence." The warmth of his breath fanned across your skin as he lowered his head, nose brushing against your neck. The contact sent a jolt rushing through you. Instinctively, you tried pulling away, realizing far too late that you had given him the perfect opening.

Without so much as a warning, he sank his sharp teeth into the sensitive flesh of your neck. A cry escaped your lips, pain and shock flaring through your body. He felt your pulse thrumming against his lips as his brows scrunched, lips suctioning around his bite. He pulled back, a smudge of your blood glistening on the corner of his mouth.

He licked it away slowly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he murmured, "Sweet…" He smacked his lips, "I knew you were the one." Panic surged within you as you began to struggle against him. However, an unsettling heat began to spread throughout your body. Your lungs felt heavy, and your body felt weaker, slowly succumbing to the warmth beyond your control.

You groaned weakly, the unfamiliar sensation overcoming your body and slowly clouding your mind. This heat was unlike any other. It burned hot through your veins, igniting a flame so primal you couldn't shake it off. Scurrying from underneath him, you managed to rise to your feet, doing your best to keep your distance, but your blood burned like fire, immense heat radiating from your skin.

"Ah." He chuckled darkly, his tail reaching out to coil around you once more as he pressed against you impossibly closer. "There you go~"

"What…did you do..?" You managed to whimper out, to which he chuckled, "Aphrodisiac. You'll understand soon enough...This was meant to be." You stepped out of his grasp, stumbling into the pile of gold and treasure behind you. You hadn't quite taken note of the obscene amount of gold he had within his cave, but you could not say you were surprised. 

He chuckled, sauntering closer to you, his movements deliberate and calculated. Your instincts screamed at you to run, to put as much space between you and him as possible, but no matter how you tried, your body would not move. It betrayed you. You felt yourself dragging forward, drawn to him against your will. The heat within you took control, fueling a deeply hidden desire. 

His smirk widened, watching you struggle to regain control. "Don't fight it, you were made for this..for me." His words sent a chill down your spine, the uncertainty scaring you in a way you couldn't imagine.

Finally, you stopped right before him. You could feel the heat emanating from his body as he took one final step closer. His tail wrapped around your body, pulling you to your feet. His clawed hands reached for your waist, grazing your delicate skin.

"Please let me go.." You whimpered out despite leaning into his touch and becoming putty in his hands. "Now, why would I do that when I can see how much you're enjoying this?" he purred, still fully pressed against you.

He lowered his head to your neck once more, sharp teeth piercing into your flesh. A moan was torn from your throat as your hands instinctively flew up to grab his shoulders, wrapping around his neck. Your knees buckled, your strength fading as the heat within you grew and spread like wildfire. It was intoxicating, hard to resist, and impossible to ignore. Pleasure coiled tightly within you, growing with each passing second until resisting felt futile. Your resolve crumbled, and you succumbed to his desire, knowing you could only delay the inevitable for so long.

"Good girl~ I knew you'd come around." He murmured low and husky into your ear. His words sent a chill down your spine, his tone a perfect blend of dominance and seduction, luring you toward your demise. Your breath quickened, your chest rising and falling with an intensity you thought your heart would explode.

He let out a growl, tackling you to the ground once more. The coldness of the stone serves as a stark contrast to the heat that emanates from both your bodies. He made quick work of your clothes, quite literally tearing them away in one swift motion, causing you to yelp out. Instinctively, you brought your arms to cover up what you could while you clenched your legs, holding them closer to your torso.

Sylus was having none of that. He took his tail and pulled your arms away from your body while he spread your thighs apart with his arms. The pungent scent hit his nose, causing his eyes to roll back as he inhaled deeply. He let out a groan, bringing his head down to your core, unable to resist as he licked a fat stripe from your hole to your clit.

Your back arched off the cold floor, a moan escaping your lips as your thighs unconsciously wrapped around his head, hips bucking against his face. Sylus enjoyed every reaction he could elicit from you, kissing along the inner curve of the flesh, sucking and marking a trail that led closer to your core. Finally getting to the apex of your legs, he cupped his mouth over your heat, worming his tongue into your hole, causing you to jolt, the pleasure becoming too much to handle.

He pulled away momentarily, "The name in your mouth should be Sylus, nothing more." with that, he dove back in, sucking viciously at your clit, causing you to moan out and grip his rigid horns. Each curve in his horns fit your fingers perfectly, almost like he was made for you and only you.

"Ah!" You cry out, back arched so high you thought your spine would snap. His ministrations didn't falter in the slightest. Sylus continued to ravage you with his tongue alone, his grip becoming more eager and hungry, claws subtly digging into your thighs as he pulled you closer to his face, making sure you couldn't escape. "Sylus!"

He smirked, a slight huff escaping him at the use of his name as continuing to plunge his tongue deeper into your core, lips still clasped around your mound. Your body was scorching, the cold stone doing little to quell the heat. You felt as though you were going to burst. The pleasure was so overwhelmingly delicious that all sense of control you had was long abandoned.

A knot had started to form in the pit of your stomach, hips bucking wildly in an attempt to escape. "Please! I-" Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly as you threw your head back. Still gripping his horns, you pull his face closer as you reach your peak. He happily obliged and slurped up all you had to give him till you went limp in his hold.

Sylus admired his work. Red claw marks and hickeys decorated your thighs as your pussy leaked with juices from the prior engagement. "Tired already?" he asked, licking his lips, his lizard-like tongue flicking out. "The fun has just begun." He spoke with a teasing lilt in his voice. His claws wrap around your thighs once more, and he drags you towards him before flipping you over.

He pulls your hips up, leaving your torso slumped against the ground and your pussy on display, enticing him more. He couldn't help the primal growl that escaped his lips when he saw how slick your thighs became, the sweet essence dripping slowly along your slit. You yelp out, feeling his rough hand come down harshly onto your exposed skin. You were left defenseless, however, you weren't ready to put an end to such a blissful experience just yet. "Who are you?" You whined out, feeling him toss you around like a ragdoll.

"Your beloved. The one destined for you. Don't you feel it?" He said lowly, his hips lining up with yours. You couldn't place it, but something deep within you couldn't resist him, and it wasn't just the aphrodisiac. Your whole being screamed to let him consume you. It was as he said. It was meant to be.

The tip of his cock grazed your wet entrance. The sliver of clarity he had left was now gone with the wind. His primal instincts taking over him once more.

"Gonna stuff you full and breed you." He murmured to himself. "Make you mine forever." You could barely catch what he said when he plunged himself deep into you. Another cry escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming. You were full beyond comprehension. Sylus's incoherent rambling paired with the sensation—of what you now realize as both your holes being plugged—has you reeling, eyes rolled back, mouth agape while your spit pooled below you.

"Taking my cocks so well-"he grunted out as he continued to thrust into you with no abandon. Desperately, you claw at the ground, unable to find purchase in the flat rocky surface.

"W-Wait!" However, your cries went unheard as lust overtook his mind fully. His only objective was breeding you. Unfortunately for you, you managed to saunter into his lair during mating season, completely oblivious to what the cycles and rituals entail. You fell into his claws at the exact moment he needed you most.

You felt yourself slip further into lust, finding it hard to resist throwing your hips back onto him, which he was pleased to see. "That's my good fucking girl." He growled, claws digging deeper into your skin, drawing blood. His wings began to beat loudly against the air as his pleasure heightened.

The sting of pain caused you to wail out, to which he leaned down and bit the flesh of your body, sinking his fangs in. The pain soon turned to pleasure, your whimpers of discomfort turning to moans of pleasure as he plowed your holes mercilessly.

"Better?" His pace slowed as he asked. You nodded vigorously, praying he didn't stop. "Please—don't stop." You choked out. You were starting to think his pace couldn't be more feral, but you were wrong. His pace quickened, hips slamming harshly against yours.

The familiar coil in your stomach pulls tighter, feeling the tip of his cock assault your cervix. You clawed at the stone, needing desperately to ground yourself for this deliciously impending high.

"Sylus! I'm almost-"he cut you off, claws digging further into your hips. You managed to get onto your palms, throwing your head back, reaching for him in the process. He noticed this and leaned down, growls spilling into your ear, and he continued to thrust into you. "I'm so close, Love." He grunted out, his movements growing sloppy, wings beating faster.

You could feel yourself creeping closer to your climax. He bit down harshly on your shoulder, another wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, your moans echoing loudly in the cave.

"Cumming!" You screamed, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. A surge came through you, squirting onto his cock. This sent him tumbling over the edge, his cum flooding your walls as he let out a final grunt, emptying himself into you. 

You attempted to pull yourself off him with the little energy you could muster but found yourself unable to move. Clenching around him, he hissed. "Stay still." He commanded, his knot buried deep inside you. Unaware of your situation, you make an attempt once more to pull yourself off once more but felt that same resistance.

"Sylus what—"he hissed out once more, his resolve weakening the more you moved. "Stay. Still." You obeyed and didn't move. Before you could react, he quickly pulled out with a pop. Turning you to face him.

"My gods, you're beautiful." The tear stains on your cheeks, the flush of your face, and the bite marks and hickeys that littered your skin were a sight to behold. He could feel himself getting hard again.

Not giving you much of a choice, he plunged one of his cocks inside you, the other resting on your clit, creating a delicious friction against your bundle of nerves. The dual sensation fills your senses with nothing but pleasure. Your legs locked around his waist, the scales of his tail brushing harshly against your skin.

"Oh fuck—"Not waiting a moment longer. He began thrusting deep into your womb, creating a bulge in your tummy. Sylus drew back, leaving just the tip of his cock inside, the other one flicking your clit when he shoved himself back in.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, eyes screwed shut as he continued his punishing pace. Tears pricked your eyes, spilling past your eyelids and cascading down your cheek.

Sylus leaned down once more, biting your skin and leaving yet another mark, the pleasure flowing throughout your body. You let out broken sobs and cries of pleasure as he plunged in and out of you, his other cock abusing your clit.

You couldn't help but squirm. The sensation was too much for you to bear, seeing as you barely recovered from your last orgasm. In an attempt to scramble away, your thighs subconsciously pushed against him, trying to force his body away from yours.

His tail whipped up and wrapped around your thigh, prying your legs open, creating more room for him. "Relax. You can handle it." He said lowly into your ear. Your thigh was pressed firmly against the surface of the stone, his hips not faltering in their abusive pace.

With nothing more left within you, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails digging into his back, grazing dangerously close to his wings. He moaned loudly, almost stumbling into your shoulder.

You noticed this and toyed with the joining of his wings and shoulder blades. His throaty moans spill from his lips and into your ear. Wings beating loudly.

Watching in a lustful daze, his movements became as desperate as ever, chasing his high that was dangling within reach. "S-Sorry love." He groaned out. Sorry?

"S-Sorry for w-"his arms wrapped fully around you. His large figure covering yours entirely as he squeezed your body against his, pounding into your swollen cunt. "Oh, gods!" You cried out, feeling the brute force of his body against your weaker one.

He couldn't help the pleasure that wracked through him. The feeling of your velvety walls wrapping him perfectly coaxed out of him another orgasm, sending you tumbling with him. His wings flared out as he filled you up once more, the echo of your moans dying at the far ends of the cave. 

You whimpered out weakly, feeling him collapse onto you. "Sylus." Every bit of your body ached in a way that made you want more. You felt him shift, resting on his elbows to stare at you.

"Yes, My Love?" You couldn't help but question him. How uniquely he greeted you, how does he even know what he claimed was true? "Why?" You managed to breathe out. "You don't even know me."

"My Love, I have waited centuries for you, and finally, you fell into my lap. I knew it was you when you walked in." None of it made sense; logically, it was something you could not fathom, but deep within, you couldn't deny the undeniable allure he had on you.

"It must have been fate for me to be cast out of Philos then." Your statement hung in the air silently. His response was nothing more than a hum as he nuzzled into your neck.

"It seems we have lost time to make up for then." His tongue flicked out to lick your old bite marks. His hips moved slowly against yours once more, causing you to whimper out. He chuckled at your little whimper, and you couldn't help but return it with a giggle, pulling him closer. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

[mohntilyet]

[msunitedstatesjames]

I've touched on this in a couple of other semi-related posts before, but I find it hilarious and I appreciate how much Johanna Hezenkoss thinks Emmrich is the protagonist of Veilguard. Like, this woman could not give less of a fuck about Rook. She almost always refers to Rook only by their relationship to Emmrich. She refers to Rook as "one of Volkarin's hangers-on," "that impudent whelp following [Emmrich] around," "Volkarin's companion," and as Emmrich's "paramour." None of these imply that she thinks Rook has much agency. Instead, she acts like Rook is just helplessly following Emmrich around like a puppy, helping him complete tasks (which I guess is partly true).

If Rook romances Emmrich, Hezenkoss assumes that Emmrich seduced Rook and not the other way around, even though Emmrich is noticeably older than Rook and has hardly left the Necropolis in years. She's seemingly amazed by it, and yet it never once crosses her mind that Rook might have initiated the relationship (which is actually the case).

She also refers to Emmrich as the one who destroyed her construct, which is technically true, but she ignores the major assistance he had from Rook, another companion, and most notably Manfred. He couldn't have pulled it off without their help, and had in fact given up, but Hezenkoss acts like Emmrich was her sole opponent in that battle.

I've said before that part of the reason for this is that Hezenkoss seems to think of herself as the main villain of the story, so Emmrich must be the main hero. Hezenkoss says that some of the other big bads of Dragon Age, the Venatori, were nothing more to her than slightly useful and genuinely annoying. She clearly thinks herself above an entire organization of some of the most powerful mages in the world. And she sees Emmrich as pretty close to her in terms of raw power, since she almost invited him to her Vengeance Party but ultimately decided he was too much of a danger to her plans. She also states that she tried to get him to join her in the past, which I don't think she would do for anyone she considered to be less than her equal. Emmrich is genuinely the only person in the game she shows any respect for. Though she mocks his age and finds him to be too sentimental, too moral, and too fearful, she shows signs of agreeing with him on some topics, and she obviously respects his abilities if nothing else. No one else in the game acknowledges his frankly ridiculous knowledge and skill level (except Solas in the end) as much as Hezenkoss does.

And really, Emmrich does have main character energy. Though he does have some age and mortality related fears, dude is overflowing with confidence. When you first meet him, looking for a Fade expert, he has absolutely no problem telling you he's the best possible person for the job. Though he apparently hasn't left the Necropolis in years, he's totally down to join the team and go anywhere you want him to go. If you romance him, he is initially surprised, but he quickly turns into the smoothest dude around, and throughout the game you can hear him comment on some of his many relationships through the years. He's well-dressed, well-spoken, charismatic, highly educated, unfailingly kind, extremely powerful, and he's done so well for himself that Harding mistakes the son of a butcher and a cook for a member of the Nevarran nobility. No wonder Hezenkoss thinks he's the protagonist. The real protagonist is just out here winging it on guts and good luck alone.

[felassan]

Ghil Dirthalen: "We found the missing letters, so hey! Who wants an Dragon Age Elven font! As a side note, in game they seems to use a symbol as a space, and we have not found punctuation. So for this font, the 'space' symbol is a '.' [link] Another note- the symbol for K is the same as Q. This is not a mistake on our end, it just... is that, haha." [source, two]

[justmymindandstuff]

Hello I have a request for you: can you please please please write jealousCregan again? Maybe he is jealous of Jace because he thinks he can not compete with a prince

Sunrays and Snowflakes - Cregan Stark x MartellReader

summary: Jacaerys comes to Winterfell to secure the North for Queen Rhaenyra. He is greeted warmly and friendly. But Cregan doesn't like how friendly Jace is with his wife. But what can he say? You are a princess and he is a prince. Maybe this is the match you deserve.

words: 6.425

warnings: jealousy, self-doubt, miscommunication, fluff

a/n: of course I will write jealous Creagn again. Thank you so much for your ask anon. Hope you like it.

English is not my first language // not proofread // Ao3 // no use of Y/N

requests are open // main- masterlist // HotD - masterlist

You stand in the courtyard of Winterfell. Cold wind and snowflakes swirl around you. Nevertheless, you are not freezing. Your husband has made sure that you are always dressed in warm fur coats and thick fabrics.

When you first arrived in Winterfell, you froze for weeks. You grew up under the hot sun, in deserts, water gardens, and heat. Winterfell is the complete opposite.

Nevertheless, you are happy here. You never would have thought that you could be happy here in the cold North. This macgt began purely politically. After the death of his first wife in childbirth, the Lord of Winterfell needed a new wife. To have another heir, just in case. For House Stark.

Your family needed allies in the seven Kingdomes. To secure independence from the Iron Throne. For House Martell.

So ravens were sent back and forth, and shortly after, you were on your way to Winterfell to marry Lord Stark. A Dornish princess for the North.

It was not easy for you to adjust. Cregan had been distant at first, but quickly thawed out. Not even three months into your marriage, it was no longer a political marriage, but love.

Your stepson Rickon is the apple of your eye. A nice, well-mannered, friendly boy, just four years old, but already behaving like an honorable Lord. At least that's what you think, but you are his stepmother after all.

Excited, he stands next to you and watches the sky. His small hand in yours. He wants to see the prince's dragon. Of course, it's all terribly exciting for him.

"Do you think I can pet the dragon?"

Cold fear runs down your spine at the thought of your little boy approaching a fire-breathing monster. Nevertheless, you smile at him before responding.

"You'll have to ask the prince about that."

Heavy footsteps behind you reveal your husband before you hear his voice. "As far as I've heard, the prince is very friendly so don't be afraid to ask."

Cregan places his hand on your lower back as he stands next to you. A smile immediately appears on your face, and you lean slightly into your husband's arms. For a moment, you simply enjoy being with your little family.

"He is a prince just like you are a princess, right?" asks Rickon with the curiosity that only children have.

"Exactly."

"Why didn't you marry a prince instead of father?"

Cregan looks at his son. His jaw tightens slightly, as it always does when he is angry. But you can only laugh and squeeze Rickon's hand.

"I don't need a prince." you say then.

A restlessness spreads among the guards on Winterfell's walls, and immediately Rickon turns his attention back to the sky.

You notice how Cregan tenses slightly next to you. The next few days, the negotiations with the prince, will seal the fate of your house in this Targaryen war. He must now sovereignly fulfill the role of the Lord.You don’t doubt for a second that he will be successful with this task and lead your family out of this crisis.

You stand on your tiptoes and press a kiss on his cold cheek. You want to say something else, but a shadow flies over you. You look up and see a dragon circling above the courtyard. You are almost relieved when you see the dragon, you had feared it would be larger.Nevertheless, the ground trembles slightly as the dragon lands. Prince Jacaerys slips out of the saddle and lands firmly on the ground.

You sink into a curtsy while your husband and your stepson bow.

"Welcome to Winterfell. It is an honor for me and my family to welcome you here."

You straighten up again and look at the prince closely. Dark curls, tousled by the wind. Noble clothing in the colors of his house, red and black. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the wind and the cold, a friendly smile on his face.

"The honor is on my side, Lord Stark. I am grateful that you are receiving me."

You can hear in his voice that he is unsure, but he is trying to hide it. For a moment, their silence lingers. Jacaerys shifts nervously from one foot to the other.

"You must be cold, my prince. Please come inside, we have warm food and drinks prepared." you say with a gesture towards the castle, fully in your role as Lady Stark.

The prince nods and says a word in a language you don't understand. The dragon behind him takes to the air again and flies away.

"He won't attack any people, will he?"" asks Cregan, his voice controlled but worried.

The prince begins to laugh but quickly becomes serious again at a glance into your husband's face. "No. Of course not. Vermax hunts exclusively venison. Even your farmers' cattle is safe. Should it still occur, House Targaryen is, of course, ready to pay compensation."

You immediately recognize that he has memorized this. Cregan nods, he is not yet fully convinced. Tension runs through his shoulders. Quickly, you force a smile onto your lips.

"Your words reassured us. Thank you my Prince." you say, giving Cregan's hand a light squeeze.

Together, you go inside. The halls of Winterfell are warm. A nursemaid takes Rickon while the Prince, Cregan, and you make your way to the great hall. There, bread and salt are first shared before the servants bring warm soup, meat, wine, and beer.

Jacaerys' insecurity falls away a little and he seems to relax. It calms you a little as well. The Targaryens and the Martells have had a rather tense relationship for a long time. It follows from the unwillingness of your people to bend the knee before the Conqueror and the subsequent dragon attacks. You cannot focus on the past now but must support your husband and the North. So you greet Jacaerys with emphasized friendliness while the usual pleasantries are exchanged. Jacaerys praises the beauty of Winterfell, Cregan asks if his journey was pleasant. However, you notice that the longer the meal goes on, the more nervous the prince becomes.

"You surely know by now what has brought me so far north," he begins after the last course is finished.

"The news of your war has reached us, yes," Cregan replies. You place your hand on his thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. Show him your support.

"My mother's birthright was stolen from her." Jacaerys begins, sounding as if he has rehearsed it again.

"One might see it that way." you respond as diplomatically as possible. You don't want Cregan to go to war for the queen. You want him here with you in Winterfell and far away from the battlefield. The mood is a bit tense again. Jacaerys looks at you for a moment. His gaze is uncomfortable for you. Nevertheless, you smile.

"You want my armies and support for your mother's claim." Cregan's words are a statement, not a question.

Jacaerys nods. "Lady Arryn from the Vale has ..."

Cregan raises his hand to interrupt him. "It is of no importance what Lady Arryn promised."

"House Stark swore an oath. An oath of loyalty to the Iron Throne."

"I know. But House Stark also swore an oath to protect the people of the realm. And this oath is a thousand years older than the one made to your ancestor, the Conqueror."

Jacaerys looks at Cregan, confused. "I don't understand, my Lord Stark."

"It's hard to explain. Accompany me to the Wall. Then we'll continue talking about oath and armies."

The prince hesitates for a moment, then he nods."Fine."

"Good, now that that's settled, my prince," you begin, giving him one of your wider smiles. You want to dissolve the tense atmosphere. "We have prepared a small celebration this evening to properly honor your visit. You probably want to rest beforehand. Your journey was long and arduous."

"Yes, of course, thank you, Princess."

"A servant will show you to your guest chambers." says Cregan, already beckoning a servant over.

"I will take care of that. It is an honor and my duty as Lady Stark to host our guests, husband."

Cregan glances briefly at you, then at the prince. He nods. "Fine."

You rise, kiss his cheek, and then turn to the prince. "Please follow me."

He gets up and you accompany him through the halls of your home to the guest chambers. You both remain silent, but you can hardly bear the tense atmosphere.

"My husband doesn't mean any harm. It´s just that is duties as Lord of Winterfell are very important to him."

"I understand, Princess."

You can understand that he feels rejected about the postponement of the negotiations. "The war, however, is of great importance for the future of the kingdom."

"Of course."

"It probably doesn't interest you.House Martell is, after all, independent."

You're trying not to let the insult, which lingers in his tone, get to you and instead smile politely.

"House Martell, perhaps. But House Stark is my family. We keep our vows."

Jacaerys suddenly stops. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry. I'm just." he interrupts himself.

"I can understand that it is a difficult situation. Your house was certainly not prepared for a war against your own blood."

"No, we weren't," he admits. "I don't have much practice being an envoy."

"You are doing well. Come now, my prince. Everything will surely be fine. Have faith in the oaths of the Lords. They all knelt before your mother and swore loyalty."

Jacaerys nods and smiles slightly. "Yes, I'll try."

Winterfell is showing itself form his best side. The great hall is filled with laughter and music. The food was exquisite. Jacaerys followed your husband's invitation and left his honored seat at the high table to walk beside Cregan through the great hall and speak with the bannermen of House Stark. The mood is good. People are dancing, and for this evening, you can also forget the looming danger. The wine tastes you a little too good today, the warm air in the hall doesn't help, and you notice your mind becoming slightly hazy as the wine takes effect.

You are engrossed in a conversation with Lady Mormont and your cousin Elisan Sand when the prince approaches you. "Princess. A dance?" he asks. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the wine, and he smiles kindly.

"Of course, my prince."

You stand up and let Jacaerys lead you to the dance floor. He leads you through the dance steps elegantly.

"I would like to thank you," he begins. His steps are confident. You have to think for a second about your first dance with your husband. He stepped on your feet three times back then. Even after all the years of your marriage, you couldn't turn Cregan into a dancer. No matter how much you love to dance, your husband rarely joins you on the dance floor. Only in the privacy of your chambers, without an audience, does he sway you to the music.

"For what?"

"Your words this noon. Your trust in your husband and in the oaths of the Lords have reassured me a little."

"The realm would fall apart if Lords did not remember their oaths," you say confidently. The Lords of the Seven Kingdoms cannot be so foolish as to risk a civil war among the dragons. The dispute over the throne would surely be over quickly. Who will supports a usurper?

"I hope so." says the prince. "Still, thank you Lady Stark or Princess. What do you prefer?"

"My name."

He says your name as if to try it on his tongue. "Under one condition, princess." a smile flickers across his lips as he sees your confused look.

"Which one, my prince?"

"Call me Jace."

"Jace it is."

He smiles at you. You wouldn't have expected this kind of kindness from him. At least not towards you. When you look at the history of your families, there has always been nothing but bad blood. But neither Jace nor you seem to care about the past. While you dance, you fall into a pleasant conversation. You are surprised by his sharp mind and friendly demeanor. He is well-read, clever, witty, and charming. In addition, his dance steps are confident and elegant. Jace is not at all the spoiled prince you had imagined. He elicits laughter from you with a few of his jokes, the wine you've drunk contributes, and you join in on his banter. You give him a few clever remarks on his jokes, which makes him laugh. He laughs openly and warmly, so you can't help but laugh along with him. Jacaerys spins you around a few times to the music before pulling you back into his arms. His hand lands a little too low on your lower back, but before you can say anything, he corrects his grip upwards. His cheeks turn a little redder, but you decide to ignore the little accident. Before you can resume your conversation, you are suddenly pulled away from Jace. The tight grip is almost painful. Immediately, you tense up and are about to complain, but the sound of your husband's voice reaches your ears. A smile immediately appears on your lips, the sound of his voice is enough to make your heart beat faster. Sometimes you feel sick of yourself because you love your husband so much that your thoughts are cheesy and full of love.

"You excus, my prince?" Cregan reaches for your hand before Jacaerys can respond.

"Of course." he gives you a slight nod and then leaves the dance floor.

You smile at your husband as you begin to dance. He still seems slightly tense.

"Have you spoken with your bannermen?"

"Yes," he replies shortly.

"They are not thrilled about the prospect of going to war."

"Of course not. Winter is coming. It's not time for war."

You almost have to sigh. Winter always comes. "The prince will surely understand if you can't provide him with any or only a few men."

"I honestly doubt that." his voice is unusually cold. "I just hope he won't burn Winterfell down with his dragon if we really turn him down."

"He wouldn't do that," you say confidently.

"Seems like you know him well already." his jaw tightens and he avoids your gaze. You furrow your eyebrows at his unusual behavior. Cregan is a serious man, but he is not suspicious. He trusts a man's word. Because he always keeps his word. That's how the Stark men are, it's in their blood.

The song ends, but instead of leading you through the next dance, Cregan steps back. He gives you a brief nod.

"I still have to talk with a few Lords." he turns away and just leaves you standing there. He didn't even give you a kiss. Confused, you stand still for a moment before leaving the dance floor. Actually, you would like to dance with your husband a little longer, but you can also understand that he has duties to fulfill.

Your gaze sweeps through the hall. Jace is already dancing again. This time with your sister-in-law Sara.

You are surprised to see her here. Normally, she stays away from such feasts, she doesn't like the looks and the whispers that come with her status as Snow, a bastard from the North. Here in the North, bastards are despised. At your home, it's different. You never had a problem with Sara being a Snow and not a Stark and love her like a sister.

You return to your seat and take another cup of wine. Quickly, you find yourself drawn back into a conversation with Lord Karstark and Lady Pole, so much so that you don't even notice how time flies. Only when you interrupt yourself for the second time in a sentence to yawn you decide that the evening is over for you now. You look around for your husband to let him know that you will be withdrawing. But you can't find him. Confused, you beckon a guard over.

"Where is my husband?"

"Lord Stark has already retired."

Without telling you? That's more than unusual. Once again, you are puzzled by his strange behavior. Nevertheless, you smile at the guard and send him back to his duties. Then you stand up and clap your hands. Immediately, the music falls silent and all attention is on you.

"I will now withdraw. I thank you all for your presence and the kindness with which you welcomed Prince Jacaerys here in Winterfell. Please, drink, dance, and continue to enjoy yourselves. I wish you a pleasant night, my Lords and Ladies."

The attendees, except for Jace, bow to you and you make your way out of the great hall. The door is not yet fully closed when the music starts again and the room is once more filled with loud voices and laughter.

You shiver slightly as the cold air surrounds you and quickly make your way back to your chambers. You are worried. Has something happened that required Cregan's attention and he left the feast because of it? Where could he be? Why didn't he let you know?

As you enter your chambers, you realize that your worry was unfounded. Your husband is already in bed. The chambers are dark, only a single candle still burns on your side of the bed. Cregan lies with his face turned away from you, his breath steady.

"Are you awake, Love?" you ask, but get no response. You quietly slip out of your dress and then into bed. The furs are cold, and you shiver again. You are used to falling asleep in Cregan's warm embrace. It takes a long time for sleep to find you.

When you wake up the next morning, the other side of the bed is empty. You stroke the furs on Cregan's side of the bed. They are already cold. You sigh. Why is he acting so strangely? Where is he? Normally, you wake up together, usually stay in bed for a while longer, cuddle and enjoy the morning together for as long as possible before your duties pull you apart.

A strange feeling spreads within you. You push it aside and swing yourself out of bed. You long for your husband. Nevertheless, you call your maid to help you get dressed and make your way to the nursery to pick up Rickon to break the fast with him.

All morning you have been busy with your duties. Rickon is sitting nearby with his nanny and plays. He keeps asking impatiently when you will finally have time for him. You promised him that today you would go with him to the prince and ask if he could pet the dragon, Vermo,or something like this.

Finally, all the important things are done, and you turn to the little Stark.

"Shall we look for the prince?"

His toys are immediately forgotten, and he runs to you. "Yes, Mother."

Cregan had allowed Rickon to call you that as long as he swore not to forget his real mother. You make sure that Rickon visits the crypt regularly. You also haven't dismissed the friends and ladies of the former Lady Stark from the household. You want to make sure that Rickon grows up with stories of his real mother, from people who truly knew her.

You drape a cloak over him before reaching for your own. For a moment, your fingertips hover over the silver buckle with the direwolf. Once again, you are overcome with longing for your husband. You haven't seen him all morning. That is also unusual. Is he so preoccupied with Jace's visit? Why doesn't he share his worries with you like he usually does?

You take Rickon by the hand and make your way to the guest chambers. There you meet Jace. He greets you with a friendly smile.

"What can I do for you?" he asks.

You gently nudge Rickon and smile encouragingly at him so that he gathers his courage. "Prince Jacaerys. I wanted to ask if I could maybe pet your dragon?" asks Rickon with red cheeks and then shyly hides behind your leg.

Jace kneels down to be at eye level with the little Stark. He smiles warmly. "Of course. Come on, Vermax will surely be happy to have visitors."

Rickon's eyes begin to shine, and he lets go of your hand to run ahead. Jace holds out his arm to you, and together you follow Rickon into the courtyard. So his name is Vermax, you weren't so far off with Vermo after all.

"Vermax hasn't been spotted by the guards. How do you know where he is?" you ask curiously. The hatred between your families has made you ignore everything there is to know about Targaryen and their dragons. That might have been a mistake.

"We share a bond. I can feel him just as he can feel me. I can call him and he will come."

The prince is right, only a few minutes after you enter the courtyard, Vermax lands in front of you.

Jace says a few Valyrian words to him, the dragon makes a whistling sound that resembles a melody before it blows smoke from its nostrils. Jace laughs happily and strokes the scaly monster. You recognize strong affection in his gaze. It surprises you. You always thought the dragons were a means to an end for the Targaryens. A weapon to oppress the people and to justify and secure their claim of power. You were obviously wrong.

Rickon jumps up and down next to you. His gaze is glued to Vermax, and he tugs at your skirt. "May I go to him?"

"Jace?" you ask a little uncertainly. The thought of the little one strokes the dragon definitely makes your stomach turn. But Rickon hasn't talked about anything else for days. You don't want to spoil his joy, so you keep your worries to yourself. The little one doesn't understand how dangerous the dragon actually is. He could easily destroy Winterfell.

Jace turns away from his dragon and reaches out his hand to Rickon.

"Come here. No need for fear."

"I am not afraid," he says, but his voice trembles slightly. Little liar, you think to yourself. Nevertheless, Rickon goes to Jace and reaches for his hand. Slowly, the two approach the dragon. Vermax seems to be completely calm, yet you are tense. A snap and Rickon could be seriously injured or even die. You would personally snap Jace's neck if he endangered the boy.

Jace says something to Rickon, he nods and slowly reaches out his hand. When his small hand touches the scales on the dragon's nose, it squeaks excitedly and he quickly pulls it back. "He feels warm." he exclaims, turning to you. His eyes sparkle with excitement and his smile is so wide and cheerful that despite your worry, you can't help but smile too. "Come on Mother, pet him too." Uncertain, you look at Jace. He nods encouragingly at you.

Slowly, you walk towards the dragon. As you stretch out your hand, it trembles slightly. Vermax whips his head around and you flinch back in shock. Rickon giggles joyfully, his fear seems to have vanished.

"May I?" asks Jace, nodding towards your hand. You hesitate for a moment but then nod. Jace reaches for your hand and gently places it on Vermax's nose. You can feel the warmth of his scales even through your glove. For a moment, you hesitate, then you stroke the dragon. Excitement floods through you and you have to laugh. You are petting a dragon. Probably the first person from House Martell to ever pet a dragon. But when Vermax lets out a growl, you quickly step back. You don't want to push your luck.

Rickon pulls on Jace's cloak. "How often do you ride him? How does it feel? Do you have a fear of heights when you fly? Is the saddle comfortable?" he bombards him with questions. Jace and you both chuckle lightly, then the prince kneels again to be at eye level with Rickon.

"I fly with him at every opportunity I get. It is incredibly fun to fly, and no, I am not afraid of heights. As for the saddle, there are more comfortable seats but I'm not complaining." he answers patiently to every question.

"Can I sit on it too?"

Jace looks at you at this question. Uncertain, you shrug your shoulders. You are not sure if Cregan would like it if his son goes this close to the dragon.

"Sure, but it's not my permission that counts."

"Please, please, Mother." Rickon begs, and at the look from his large dark eyes that he inherited from his father, you weaken.

"But only for a short moment and you do exactly what Jace tells you."

"Yes, of course." he jumps up and down excitedly before moving closer to Vermax again. Jace picks him up and approaches his dragon. He lowers his front leg slightly and lets Jace climb onto him. The dragon is completely calm, and you are glad about it.

As the two sit on the dragon's back, Jace begins to explain what all the buckles are for, how to hold the reins, and how he communicates with Vermax while flying using commands and shifting his weight.

You almost have a heart attack at the sight of Rickon on the dragon. You breathe a sigh of relief as Rickon slides down Vermax's wings after Jace's explain him how to do it. Laughing, he runs to you.

"Did you see how I rode the dragon?"

"Yes, of course. That looked really great. Like a real dragon rider," you say to him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

"Do you want to try it ?" Jace asks from the dragon's back.

You quickly shake your head. "Absolutely not." you say.

Jace starts laughing again, but it's a warm laugh, the kind that's so contagious. He is not laughing at you. You laugh with him.

The prince also slides down the wing of his dragon. "Maybe another time," he says then.

"Probably not." you contradict.

"Don't be so sure, I can be very convincing." he winks at you, and you roll your eyes at his banter.

"Rickon." Cregan's voice echoes across the courtyard. You turn around immediately, hoping to finally be able to hold your husband in your arms. Cregan stands on the gallery above the courtyard and looks down at you. Even from down here, you can see his tense posture and his angry gaze. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to let Rickon sit on Vermax after all. "You have lessons."

You pause, confused. You are sure that you did not schedule any lessons for Rickon today. His teacher would not visit him again until tomorrow. But perhaps you messed up the plans with all the excitement about the prince's visit and the organization of yesterday's feast.

"Yes, Father." says Rickon quickly and takes a few steps towards the entrance before stopping and turning back to Jace once more. "Thank you for letting me pet the dragon," he says politely and bows before running inside.

You almost burst with pride for the boy when you see that your upbringing is showing. He would become a fine Lord of Winterfell, you are sure of that.

"Thank you, he hasn't talked about anything else. It's very exciting for him that you're here."

Jace smiles. "Gladly. He reminds me of my little brothers. I miss them."

You nod slightly, understanding the homesickness. "I also have to excuse myself, I have duties to attend to." you want to turn away and go to Cregan to finally have a moment alone with him.

"Please give me just one more moment."

You would prefer to refuse and run to Cregan, but politeness forbids it, so you nod and wait eagerly to see what Jace wants from you. He retrieves something from Vermax's saddle and hands you a small box. Confused, you open it, and a necklace comes into view. Pure gold is intricately crafted into suns with spears and three-headed dragons. The seals of House Martell and House Targaryen. A beautiful piece of work. Probably more expensive than most of your wardrobe.

"My mother asked me to hand this to you to remind you of the friendship between our houses."

She wants support from Dorne. She wants to buy you. It annoys you. Nevertheless, you smile.

"Please give your mother my thanks. I will cherish this friendship. But please remind them that I cannot speak for my brother and House Martell. I am a Stark."

Jace face tenses up slightly and his smile looks forced. To save the mood, you take the necklace out of the box.

"Would you help me?"

"Of course." he takes the necklace and you turn around so he can put it on you. When the necklace falls into place, you turn around again. "Thank you." you say and smile. "But I have to go now. You know, duties and that kind of stuff." you try to joke to get out of this irritating moment.

"Yes, of course."

You turn away and go inside. The necklace feels cold against your skin and is heavy. You will wear it as long as Jace visits Winterfell and then simply take it off. Of course, the necklace is beautiful, but you don't necessarily feel the need to carry House Targaryen's sigil with you. Besides, your husband has given you enough necklaces. All made of silver and with the Stark family crest. You like these necklaces a thousand times better even though they are not quite as finely crafted. They are gifts from your husband. He could give you a leather strap, and you would treat it like your greatest treasure. Just because it is a gift from Cregan.

When you arrive inside, unfortunately, you can't find your husband. Frustrated, you exhale. Maybe the Maester knows where he is. But before you can make your way to Winterfell's Maester, you are stopped by the blacksmith. He has an important matter, so you postpone the search for your husband.

Fate, however, is not kind to you, and so you are constantly pulled from one duty to another, and when you finally finish all your tasks, the sun has already set. But even now you can't give in to your need to search for your husband. Jace comes towards you.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, to be honest. I have a letter for my fiancée Baela. Could I borrow a raven?" his cheeks turn slightly red as he holds up the scroll. The thought that the prince took the time to write a love letter in the middle of negotiations about troops for the war makes you smile.

"Of course. Come, I'll show you the way."

Hopefully this is really your last task for today. The longing for your husband is terrible. You can't remember the last time you went a whole day without talking to each other. You long to be pulled into his arms, to feel his kisses, to hear his voice.

You enter your shared chambers. You almost worry that Cregan is already asleep again, but he is sitting by the fireplace. A cup of wine in his hand. His long legs stretched out on the furs, yet his posture is tense. As the door behind you clicks shut, he turns his head towards you. His gaze is angry, his jaw tense. Your smile slips from your face.

"What happened?" you ask worriedly.

"Where were you?" he is on his feet and with two steps by you. The air around him almost pulses with his anger. Confused, you have to blink. What's going on? Worry spreads within you. You want to reach for his hand, but Cregan pulls his arm away. Surprised, you stand there.

"Where were you?" he repeats in a dark voice.

"Um, with Jace we .."

He snorts and interrupts you. A little angry, you furrow your brows. What's wrong with him?

"Jace." he says the name like an insult. "Interesting how close you are to the prince."

You almost want to laugh when you finally understand why your husband is acting so strangely. He is jealous. But with that angry look and tense posture, the laughter get stuck in your throat.

"Cregan." you begin in a gentle voice and take a step towards him. His eyes radiate anger, his whole body is tense. For others, that might seem frightening, but not for you. But again he doesn't let you finish. He looks to the side. His eyebrows are drawn together, his jaw is tense.

"You quickly became good friends. I watched you and him. At the feast and today with his dragon and Rickon."

"I'm just being friendly. Like I am with every Lord who comes to visit us." you try to be reasonable. Your voice is calm even though his unfounded jealousy and his doubts about you makes you angry. You don't understand why he has a problem with Jace.

"Not so friendly. I haven't seen you laugh like that for a long time." Now his memory is playing tricks on him.

"That's not true," you say.

"It is." your husband insists. You want to shake some sense into him. "But I can understand you. A handsome prince, of course you're interested in him. He could offer you a lot."

"Do you really think I would care about what he can offer? You give me more than I ever dreamed of. He is a prince, yes. Well, and who cares? How could I be interested in him when I have you?"

Cregan snorts again, avoids your gaze, and crosses his arms over his chest. "He gave you jewelry."

"No! His mother gave me jewelry, he is just the deliverer. The queen wants the support of the Martells, that's why."

"Nevertheless, you strut around with the necklace around your neck as if it were your most precious possession. I understand that. You are used to wearing expensive jewelry and fine gold. The North cannot offer you that."

He is so angry that he doesn't really take in your words. He doesn't want it. He is getting worked up about it. But you know your husband. You know very well that words sometimes don't get through to him. Especially not when he is angry. Cregan is a man of action, not of words. You reach for the necklace and tear it off your own neck. The clasp clinks slightly as it hits the floor, you don't care. You simply throw the necklace into the nearest corner of your chambers. A servant can have it, or it can end up in the trash. You don't care. Who cares about gold necklaces, gemstones, and jewelry?

You approach Cregan, und despite his anger and tension, you are not deterred and simply reach for his hand again. This time he doesn't flinch, but he also doesn't uncross his arms and take your hand. His eyebrows are furrowed, and you can see that his mind is working.

"I am yours and you are mine." you repeat the vow you made years ago before the Heart Tree in Winterfell's Godswood. "Always. Do you really think my love for you is that fragile?" you're almost offended.

"No." Cregan sighs. "It's just. He is a prince. The future king of the Seven Kingdoms. What can I offer you that he can't? You are a princess and you deserve a prince. Even Rickon understood that. A princess belongs to a prince."

You shake your head slightly, reach for his face, and force him to look at you. Of course, he could easily break away from you, but he doesn't.

"Cregan Stark! Who do you think I am? What are the words of my house?"

"Winter is coming," he grumbles as if to make it clear once again that you are his wife. A Stark. Still, you shake your head.

"Not those words."

"Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken"

"Exactly! And so is my love for you. Do you think I would be impressed by a little prince with a pretty smile? Do you really think I would regret my life here? Regret our family? No. This here, Winterfell, you, our marriage is all I need. I am happy here. I don't want all the frills and fuss. Who needs a prince and a ridiculous Iron Throne anyway? I love you, Cregan. You. And your boy and our home."

"Your life with him would be much more pleasant. No deprivations like here in the cold north. You could live in all the luxury you deserve. Like a real princess. Not hidden and far away from everything. I can't give you the live you deserve. No matter how much I want it."

You put a hand on his cheek. Your thumb caress him gently while you look into his eyes.

"Listen to me carefully! I don't want luxury. I don't want a Red Keep, a court, or bended knees. I want you. I love you. Only you. No one else could ever have my heart. It belongs to you. Always. Completely. I love you with my heart and soul. I could never be happier than with you. Do you understand what I'm saying? There is no reason to be jealous of a little prince."

Cregan's gaze is upon you. His eyes dart over your face. Suddenly, he leans forward and his lips crash onto yours. You are startled for a moment but then you return his kiss. The passion washes over you like a wave, your hands burying themselves in his dark hair while Cregan's hands wander to your back and he pulls you closer to him. Breathless, you pull away from each other. Cregan leans his forehead against yours, holding you tightly in his arms.

"I'm sorry. I saw you and the prince and my thoughts got the better of me. I know that I am not good enough for you. I never was, I never will be. I'm sorry, love. I just love you so much." he kisses your forehead.

You smile and bury your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. Love and warmth course through you as he holds you so close.

"Never doubt yourself, my Love. As long as my heart beats, it beats for you and only for you."

[gwynthemoose]

Okay but I can make this even funnier.

The war's been over for months. Lee is still missing. Jin is in mouring, and then he shows back up at the Jasmine Dragon one day. As if nothing happened.

An Jin is losing her mind like "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!" which he dodges with "cleaning up my Dad's mess" which, he lives with his Uncle that's some messy family drama which is fair. He even apologizes and takes her on another date. and halfway through two Firelord's Guards show up with a couple White Lotus members like

"Firelord Zuko you cannot just run away to Ba Sing Se every time you get tired, especially when you don't tell anyone."

And THAT'S how Jin finds out.

shoutout to the earth kingdom girl zuko went on one date with. i truly believe she made the choice not to snitch on his firebending

[chaos-in-deepspace]

Sylus Monster Dick Agenda: The Facts + Dragon Sylus Mating Headcanons (at the end)

Alright, so you saw Sylus is now a dragon. Awesome. Beautiful. Now I've already seen people discussing him having hemipeens and I wanna come on here and explain how they'd actually be working. It's fine if you make headcanons on how his dick would be (and if you do please state they're a headcanon), but if you're gonna be a monster fucker who wants to fuck actual hemipeens, make sure you've done research on how they work.

Warnings: Non Human Dicks, Facts about animal penises and mating, biting, dick hooks, mating seasons, slightly possessive Sylus in the headcanons.

Disclaimer: I did a lot of research for this, however I understand that sometimes there can be mistakes. If anyone breeds snakes or lizards, owns them, or anything of the sort and you notice something is inaccurate, please inform me. I'll happily update this post. I want to be as accurate as possible, but as I don't personally own reptiles, I could only go off research and the information my friend gave me who owns snakes.

Hemipeens:

So obviously there's a lot of different reptiles out there, and their hemipeens are generally in the same wheelhouse, but with the sheer amount of species out there, it's impossible to cover them all in a quick post explaining how to write them in your erotica. We're going to be focusing on lizards for this, because they're the closest to a traditional western dragon which is what Sylus appears to be (if you wanted to do a more traditional Chinese based dragon, they'd be somewhat more akin to a snake and lizard hybrid) I'll also briefly cover a snake's though, just in case.

Lizard Hemipeens: A lizards hemipeens (focusing on bearded dragons) are normally more lobed in appearance. They're shorter but, in comparison to the rest of the body, are large in shape.

Lizard Hemipeens: Have spikes or ridges on them that help secure the female during mating, They're not extremely sharp, but if the male is being too rough during mating, or it takes too long, it can definitely cause discomfort. However, keep in mind, this is when mating with another female lizard, which have adapted to be more resilient. If it was a human, it could be a different story.

Lizard Hemipeens: Are stored in a cloaca when not mating. It's a flexible muscular structure to house the hemipeens. When mating, the hemipeens turn everted (inside out).

Lizard Hemipeens: Sit side by side, and have a small space between them. They aren't just like two dicks next to one another. They also vary in appearance, but most of the time they're more tubular.

Lizard Hemipeens: Are only out during the mating process. In fact, if they're out for too long it can cause a prolapse.

Snake Hemipeens: Generally more elongated and looks more like a cylinder. Snakes have more of a need for longer insertion in order to breed their mate, unlike a lizard.

Snake Hemipeens: Also often have the small hooks or spines to help keep their mate in place. Just like lizards, these don't often cause injury in the female unless it's too rough or mating takes too long.

Snake Hemipeens: Other than the little hooks or spines, a lot of species hemipeens are more smooth, however species like a boa or python have more texture to them.

Snake Hemipeens: Tend to have a more forked appearance on each of the hemipeens on the end. The hemipeens are also closer together on the body, but still sit side by side.

Snake Hemipeens: Are houses in the cloaca, like the lizards and a lot of other reptiles.

Key Differences: Lizard hemipeens tend to have have small ridges or spines, while snake hemipeens may have hooks or spiny structures.

Key Differences: Lizard hemipeens tend to be flatter and more lobed, whereas snake hemipeens are more cylindrical and elongated.

Key Differences: Snake hemipeens are generally longer and more narrow than the shorter, more compact hemipeens of most lizards.

Mating Seasons

In general, reptiles will mate when the weather is warmer. During the cold months they tend to be more lethargic. Of course in captivity this can change, but overall, you're looking at spring and summer for mating.

Lizards: Tend to mate in the spring when it's warming up.

Snakes: Will normally mate in spring or summer once they get out of brumation (a period of dormancy similar to hibernation for cold-blooded animals), Generally they'll go into their mating season right after brumation.

Mating Behaviors

Keep in mind, during mating, Lizards and snakes only use ONE of their hemipeens for mating. It depends on the positioning of their mate when they mount them. Sometimes if the "run out of juice" they can use the other hemipeen as a last resort.

Lizards: Will become more territorial and aggressive towards other males during mating season.

Lizards: Males will often slightly change color during mating season, bob their heads, and wave their arms to attract female mates.

Lizards: Mating is normally kept shorter, only being a couple minutes long.

Lizards: Can scent during mating, but it's a secondary thing. They rely more on visuals.

Lizards: Will sometimes bite during mating in order to lock the female into place.

Snakes: Male snakes will compete with other males for the mate, often fighting, wrestling, etc.

Snakes: Will leave scent trails for their mates and vibrate their tails to attract females.

Snakes: Mating can take a few minutes to a few hours.

Snakes: Rely heavily on scents during mating. They have the Jacobsen's organ on the roof of their mouth that allows them to pick on on other snake's pheromones.

Snakes: Biting in snakes is more common during mating, and can happen before and during copulation.

OKAY! So that's just a fucking rundown on anatomy and mating habits. Now how to incorporate this into your monster fucker stuff for Sylus.

Writing Dragon Sylus Dicks

Sylus as a character has shown to be very caring towards the MC, so I don't think he would ever purposefully harm her. So during mating these are some things I can see happening (Disclaimer: all these are headcanons based off facts on reptile anatomy and mating behaviors):

Dragon Sylus: Would scent his mate and the area around her, even if MC doesn't understand why or can't smell it at all, it would put him at ease.

Dragon Sylus: Would be more gentle with biting as to not cause serious injury to MC. He might break the skin slightly, but overall they'd be very shallow.

Dragon Sylus: Would be a bit more territorial of MC and try to keep her away from other males only during mating season. During the other times he'd allow MC full autonomy. If MC stated she didn't appreciate it, he would explain the reasoning so she'd understand the difference in species.

Dragon Sylus: Would only fuck MC with one of the hemipeens and be gentle so the hooks or ridges don't cause harm. Would do several check ins to make sure she's okay.

Dragon Sylus: Could hypothetically go for several rounds depending if he's more lizard or snake like, but would be reading MC's body language and words to know if she'd be able to handle it.

Dragon Sylus: Would be the king of aftercare. He'd patch up any wounds he inflicted to prevent infection, make sure MC is fed and taken care of, and if it was uncomfortable he would try to find a balm or numbing cream and now fuck MC for days until she's fully recovered, and only then he'll touch her if she gives him the 'okay'.

I mainly had to write this because I saw a post about someone saying the hemipeens would both excrete different things (one would be a numbing agent, the other is cum). Also how at the end it would glue the vaginal canal shut essentially which is such a non-con thing. Can you imagine if that happened? Infection? Death. Just so another male can't go in. It made no sense. Everyone is free to have their own headcanons, but please STATE IT AS SUCH.

And if you're going to have a rough Sylus who fucks MC and harms her during the process, fucking tag your shit. That is a Non-Con situation, and nobody on here has been tagging their Non-Con Sylus content. Tag it. Warn about it. TAG YOUR SHIT PROPERLY!!!

But ya, there you go. How it would logically work for a Dragon Sylus smut.

[freizusein]

Can I please. Just for ONE sec. YELL about the Redeem Solas ending of The Veilguard from perspective of a platonic "save Solas worldstate" Inquisitor!!! (in my case a male Lavellan who romanced Dorian).

The Inquisitor is coming to Solas with nothing but their heart on their hand (their remaining hand, the other one taken by the very elf they are trying to redeem) - extended in pure hope of redemption, without any sort of further motive beyond that - never giving up fully, even after Varric's death (which totally made me waver in my erstwhile of stance of trying to redeem Solas no matter what as I'm sure many others jfc but I digress). They have EVERY reason, next to the whole issue of *cough* killing Varric, using blood magic and manipulating Rook like he did, and after Solas then continuing to betray Rook MULTIPLE TIMES, to say nope, Solas has done it, he crossed the line of no return. But they are, despite all that, STILL continuing what they have promised Solas in the Crossroads 10 years ago: "You do not have to destroy this world. I will prove it to you." Despite how lost they might be themselves! DESPITE how much Thedas and its people, and events that were set in motion by Solas himself have taken from them!!! (If you are playing as Solas-platonic Lavellan this also makes you a lost elf just like him in a way and even MORE painfully poetic). And just as Varric carried that promise to prove this to Solas with him, to the final line - just as, depending on how you play them ofc, Rook does - The Inquisitor, JUST AS THEY DID 10 YEARS AGO - walk up a set of stairs to Solas while his back is turned, and ask him. With empathy and kindness. Because deep inside them, they can see through Solas' facade. They know how he feels.

The Inquisitor sets aside all they have suffered, also by Solas own hand - who has been ripped from their old life by events out of their control; by duty; in many cases ostracized from their culture and beliefs in this process, forced to take upon a burden (the safety of the whole southern continent, or at the end of Veilguard more like the whole of Thedas) and a destiny they have never chosen and despite that still need to commit to 10 years later - and they continue to say, no. I WILL NOT BECOME TRAPPED BY WHAT I'VE LOST. (*screaming in the distance at this quote from the earlier conversation with the Inquisitor, btw, the foreshadowing in everything is so good*). And the PARALLELS in this, not just to Solas himself, but then also in the cinematography and TO TRESPASSER!!!

THIS!!!! THIS RIGHT HERE IS THE SHIT I WANT TO ESPECIALLY YELL ABOUT!!!!!

After Solas encounters Mythal and breaks down in pain and despair, the Inquisitor tells Solas, "You are free to find a better way."

And they kneel down before him - kneel down to be UNDER him - just to say it. They don't "talk down" to him, having proven their point made at the end of Trespasser. They are not "winning" here, or triumphing over Solas in any way (if anyone is winning at this moment, you could say that it is Varric from the afterlife). They fucking kneel before him, the lyrium dagger that killed Varric, nearly ripped open the Veil multiple times, killed Ghilna'nain and Elgar'nan, centimeters from their throat.

They reach out to him, one final time. Again with empathy and kindness, not judgement. And with it, light the final beacon to Solas' atonement. Doing this, they prove to Solas, without any doubt, that this is a world ((worth saving)) where he is indeed free to find a better way.

Remember Trespasser? Remember, how, at the end, The Inquisitor was kneeling before Solas, forced to kneel because the anchor was actively killing them and they were suffering unbearable torment while Solas was telling them that he would rip down the Veil and destroy the world as they know it?

See this down here, actively paralleling the final moments of Trespasser in the way Solas and the Inquisitor are positioned, Solas bent with pain... and yet, although they roles might metrophorically be seen as reversed, the Inquisitor again on the ground before him for that final statement, spoken with such softness?

Idk what to close this post with bc I have resorted to mindless rambling at this point but make of it what you will, something something full circle and breaking the circle of violence while doing so, I'll just be in my corner screaming on the inside (also Solas, when he turns around for one final time before stepping into the Veil, saying "Thanks to you I can now see the way" while looking directly at the Inquisitor (who is also the only one who's facial expression reacts to that statement, not Rook or Morrigan))

late night edit of this post bc i cannot stop thinking abt this: something VERY important is to be said here imo that the Inquisitor does not have to forgive solas to do this. In fact after all that has happened it is absolutely fine if the Inquisitor cannot forgive solas for (some of) the things he has done, and that should also be able to be the case in a save solas/solas as (former) friend world state!!! And that would not lessen this scene. On the contrary, even. Giving someone a chance at redemption - bringing light to them and opening their eyes to another path with kindness and empathy DESPITE the pain the inquisitor has endured - while not being able to forgive solas for the pain - just makes the breaking of the circle of violence and the not being trapped in regret themes even more powerful!!! This is actively abt the Inquisitor (and Rook!) setting aside all pride and ego, letting go of their loss and pain and their demons of regret, and making solas open his heart to the way out as much as it is abt Solas himself!!! In spite of it all!!!

[thydungeongal]

That encounter joke Anon is wrong. Every 5e GM I've ever met went the route of "one fight per day oh my boss is already dead accutally he has 50 more hitpoints and now here's 2 more minions now the fight is properly exciting and dramatic" and the lack of a poker face meant we all knew.

How do you feel about that kind of rewriting, anyway?

For context, none of the GMs ever admitted to this on the LFG posts, or the pitches, etc.

I'm not opposed to it on principle. Ultimately I do think it's a bit like "oh so you're shifting the goalposts when it seems like the party is winning the encounter more easily than you think they should have," but ultimately that's just a maladaptive response to a different issue. Which is, once again, people trying to run D&D as a game it very much is not.

D&D isn't a game of epic bossfights where characters snatch victory from the jaws of defeat after an extended combat encounter. It can produce such encounters but they will usually emerge incidentally, not naturally. D&D is ultimately a game of attrition, of managing character resources through the course of an extended period, and even though D&D 5e's actual expectations of what an adventuring day is supposed to look like are whack D&D 5e does support a type of gameplay that relies on managing resources over an adventuring day much better than it does "a single epic setpiece encounter per day."

Because ultimately D&D is at its best when it's about weaponized player agency and system mastery, and in modern D&D this sometimes manifests as "the party knew they were going up against a lich so utilizing everything they know about liches they kicked that guy's ass in two turns." Now that would be really anticlimactic if the GM had set that encounter up as narrative culmination of a campaign that had been leading up to this moment for two years. But if you take it as "just one more encounter in the story of a bunch of assholes trying to grow stronger and more epic" then it's just a moment of those characters getting to flex for a moment.

Now of course adjusting the stats of a monster on the fly is sort of a problem in that it goes against the game and thus undermines player expression within the game. When the group pulls off a cool trick that immediately deals a million points of damage to the dragon's dick and you say "oh actually the dragon had two million hit points" then you're ultimately undermining player expression. I don't think this makes someone a bad GM because the motivation behind it is usually to provide a more entertaining experience for the group, but it is a sign of a GM fighting against the system and not knowing what it does, and they and their group would probably be better served by another game. And given that players won't necessarily know that happened it maintains the illusion that the game does produce that type of encounter.

My advice? As a GM, be honest: "hey, I didn't think you all would one-shot that boss. Are you okay if we add a bit more HP to that thang?" And if this is a consistent issue of the game not producing the type of experience the group wants they should ultimately look for a different game.

[space-blue]

Another hot take : CGI is a form of animation, depending on what we're dealing with.

Stuff like the Lion King is basically just animation layered over shots of the real world. They just chose to uncanny valley with hyper realism.

Seeing CGI toothless really hits this home. The only thing you're doing differently are the human actors the dragon is even more heavily animated than in the 3D original show.

For me a real "live action" should be like... A stage play. Stuff like the lion king live action is just sad. Film real lions why don't you lmao.

my biggest issue with the httyd live action-and just about any live action reboot is that it seems that the live action adaptations are being made to make the original “better”? like, so many people talk about a live action spiderverse, a live action hercules, a live action PRINCE OF EGYPT (dont piss me OFF.)-like animation is a beautiful work of art, and for some reason putting real people and cgi in it is supposed to be an “upgrade”? im probably being that friend that’s too woke or whatever, but i just think it’s so disrespectful to act like something that takes so much time and effort and energy is immediately considered as lower because it is animated. animation is beautiful, and it is one of the most heartfelt art forms there are, and erasing that for the sake of a cash grab is downright degrading to animation as a medium.

[sagegreenfrogs]

neurotypical found families be like: *the brunette one* *the funny one* *the blonde one* *the smart one* *Kyle*

meanwhile neurodivergent found families be like: *icarus* *a child monarch* *an assassin who's never killed* *a knight patched up by the dark arts* *a deaf general who broke the cycle of racism* *a queen forced to fight her fascist brother for the fate of their people* *another child monarch* *a tracker turned musician and royal advisor* *a sign language interpreter who was imprisoned in a secret underground murder dungeon* *a dragon* *bait*

[idkyetxoxo]

Aemond Targaryen - The Red Wedding

Summary - They attend a wedding where past promises and deep resentments threaten to unravel their fragile peace—a red wedding soaked in blood and betrayal.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Violence, injury

Word count - 2075

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

"Aemond, are we certain this is the right thing to do?" I murmured, letting my head rest against his shoulder as his fingers traced delicate, mesmerizing patterns along the back of my hand. 

His touch, though gentle, did little to quell the unease churning within me.

"We have no choice," he murmured, the words weighed down by a resignation I had never seen in him before. 

He placed a lingering kiss on my hair before leaning back against the plush interior of the carriage. His expression was calm, but beneath it, I sensed the weight of his resolve.

"Attending this wedding together might be seen as a provocation," I continued, turning to meet his gaze. "Especially now that I am so visibly with child." 

My hand instinctively went to the swell of my belly, a protective gesture as much as a reminder of our delicate position.

"Lord Borros Baratheon extended the invitation himself, fully aware of my marital status," Aemond replied, his voice even and deliberate. "It would have been far more insulting to decline." 

He paused, his gaze drifting briefly to the passing scenery beyond the carriage window before returning to me with a flicker of steely determination. "Attending is our best option."

"Yes, but you must see how it looks," I insisted, my voice tinged with nerves. "The last time you were here, you made a promise to wed one of his daughters. And now we return—only for her to marry another—while you arrive with a wife and a child on the way." 

The words tumbled out in a rush, each one laced with apprehension. I could not shake the sense that we were inviting scandal and resentment.

Aemond's lips curved into a half-smile, his eye never leaving mine as he placed his hand over the gentle curve of my stomach. 

"You need not trouble your lovely mind with such matters," he said, his tone softening with rare tenderness. "We would not want to upset our child." 

His touch was firm yet comforting, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes, a mix of exasperation and fondness bubbling to the surface.

His attempt to lighten the mood did little to dispel my concerns, but I found myself leaning into his touch nonetheless, drawing strength from the bond we shared. 

Whatever awaited us at Storm's End, we would face it together—consequences be damned.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

"Come closer, let me have a look at you," Lord Borros Baratheon's voice boomed through the grand hall, thick with arrogance and the simmering undertones of resentment. 

I hesitated, glancing nervously between Aemond and Alicent. Aemond's eye met mine, a brief but reassuring nod giving me the courage to move forward. 

I stepped closer to Lord Borros, bowing my head respectfully, though every instinct screamed at me to turn and flee.

"Ah, very pretty," he said, his tone teetering between begrudging admiration and veiled malice. "Prettier than this lot, that's for sure. And quite the figure." His laugh was a grating sound, coarse and hollow. 

Each word fell like stones into the strained silence. My breath caught in my throat, and I stole a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Aemond's expression had hardened, the faint smile that had lingered moments before now utterly erased.

"And you, my prince," Lord Borros continued, turning his attention back to Aemond with a sneer that only deepened the lines on his face. 

"You claim you betrayed our pact for love?" He spat the word as though it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I say you betrayed it for a pair of firm tits and a tight fit." 

He erupted into harsh laughter, the vulgarity of his words staining the air.

Shock rippled through me, and I stared at him, trying to comprehend his brazenness. Was he so embittered by wounded pride that he would insult a princess in his own hall? 

And why extend such an eager invitation, only to wield it as a weapon of humiliation?

A sudden, unmistakable movement drew my attention. Aemond had stepped forward, every line of his body taut with rage. 

Alicent's hand shot out, gripping his arm with surprising force. Her knuckles were white, and her face, though calm, was taut with tension. 

"Not now," she whispered, her voice low but commanding. Aemond remained still, his jaw clenched, but I could feel the storm brewing within him, barely restrained.

I willed myself to block out Lord Borros' continued tirade, his words fading to a meaningless drone. 

"Well, then!" he finally declared, gesturing with a dismissive wave. "Let the wine flow red, let the music drown out any unpleasantness. We shall move past this... indiscretion." 

His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp and unyielding.

I took a step back, desperate to distance myself from his presence, and returned to Aemond's side. His hand was cold when I grasped it, but I held on tightly, hoping to anchor him, to calm the tempest that raged behind his eyes. 

"It's alright," I whispered, my voice steady despite my racing heart. "Let it go. We should have expected this."

His eye, so fierce and cold, softened slightly as it met mine. But only for a moment. 

"I'll put a dagger through his heart," Aemond hissed, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of iron. He took a step forward, murder written in every tense line of his body.

"No," I said, pulling him back firmly. "We are at a wedding. No blood will be spilled." 

My voice trembled only slightly, and he stopped, exhaling sharply as he ran a hand across his face, fighting for control. 

His body was a taut string on the verge of snapping, but he relented, if only for me.

With the tension still thrumming around us, I glanced down, instinctively placing a protective hand over the swell of my belly. 

The room's mood shifted; wine was poured, music swelled, and laughter—though forced—broke out. But my gaze never left Aemond's, and I could feel every ounce of his rage simmering beneath the surface, barely contained. 

In this den of wolves, our bond was the only shield I had, and I held on tight.

The celebrations carried on well into the night, a swirling blend of music, laughter, and clinking goblets. Torches cast flickering light across the great hall, their golden glow gilding the polished stone and embroidered banners that hung above. 

Floris Baratheon sat at the head table, radiant in her bridal gown, her new husband's whispered words drawing delighted laughter from her lips. 

The scene was one of merriment, but beneath the mirth, a current of unease twisted in my stomach.

Seated beside me, Aemond's jaw was set in a way I recognized all too well. His hand covered mine, squeezing gently as though to anchor himself—and perhaps, to calm me. 

I felt the weight of his attention and turned to find him watching me, his gaze softened just for me, despite the tension that bristled beneath his skin.

"See?" he said quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "I told you it would be fine." 

There was a hint of bitterness laced through his words—a reminder of Lord Borros's cruel taunts earlier in the evening, his vulgar words that had attempted to humiliate and reduce me to a trophy. 

"Well," he added with a grim twist of his lips, "as fine as it can be."

I managed a weak smile, more for him than myself. "Better than arrows at our backs, at least," I said, trying to lighten the mood. 

But my attempt fell flat; the specter of Borros's simmering resentment was too close, too real.

Aemond exhaled slowly, his gaze moving to the far end of the hall where Lord Borros and his sons presided over the feast like vultures perched on a branch. 

"He knows what he's doing," Aemond murmured, his eye narrowing. "A show of power, a reminder of his grievances."

"And yet, he invited us," I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "He wanted this."

Aemond turned back to me, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. "It doesn't matter," he said. "He can play his games and speak his poison. I won't let him touch you." 

His voice was hard as iron, but beneath it, I could hear the raw determination. "Not now. Not ever."

For a moment, the rest of the hall faded away. We were just two souls, trying to find strength in each other amidst a sea of enemies. 

I nodded, unable to find words, but the gratitude—and love—shone in my eyes. He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

"It will be fine," he repeated, softer this time, as if speaking it might make it true.

But the fleeting moment of calm was shattered.

The change was sudden—a shift in the air, a murmur that turned to sharp cries. A commotion rippled through the hall. I felt it before I saw it: a flash of movement, a figure too close. 

Time slowed as —a burning, excruciating pain—ripped through me. I gasped, a scream tearing from my throat as I clutched my stomach. Blood seeped between my fingers, hot and terrifying.

"Aemond!" I heard Alicent's frantic call. The next few moments passed in fragments. 

Aemond lunged forward, his face a mask of fury and fear, but he was too far. I staggered, my vision dimming. 

The floor rose up to meet me, and I fell, my hands instinctively pressing against the wound, desperate to hold in the life spilling out.

I tried to focus, to hold onto Aemond's face as he reached me, his hands trembling as they hovered over my blood-soaked dress, unsure where to touch, where to begin. His expression, usually so composed, was twisted with terror. 

"No, no, no," he chanted, voice cracking. "I'm here. I'm here."

His eyes widened, his body jerking as arrows found their mark—cruel, deadly shafts driven deep into his back. He stumbled but reached for me, collapsing to his knees. 

I pulled him close, using the last of my strength to shield him as best I could, around us, the world descended into madness—Baratheon men slaughtering without mercy. 

Screams of terror and death filled the air, but all I saw was Aemond.

My hands, slick with blood, found his. I pressed myself against him, my tears mingling with the blood on his face. 

"Aemond," I whispered, my voice raw with pain and fading life. I touched his face, my blood leaving streaks across his pale skin. "I love you." 

The words were heavy, each one a struggle. They were a plea, a promise, a farewell.

Tears mixed with blood as he cradled my face, his grip desperate.  "No," he breathed. "Please, don't leave me. I love you. I love you." He pressed a trembling hand to my stomach, the life we had hoped to share slipping between us. 

"Stay with me."

His plea was raw, unguarded—a prince brought to his knees by love and helplessness. I mustered a smile, though every fiber of me screamed in pain.

"Say it again," I begged, my voice a thin, fading thread. I needed to hear it one last time.

"I love you," he whispered, each word cracked and broken. In that moment, the world disappeared—the violence, the betrayal, all swallowed by the depth of his gaze. And then, darkness claimed me. 

My body went limp, the warmth of life slipping away as I fell into his arms.

Aemond's scream was a raw, guttural wail, tearing through the chaos. He clutched me tightly, rocking as if the force of his love alone could anchor me back to him. 

All around, death reigned. Alicent's voice rose above the noise, a mother's desperate cries. 

"Aemond! Get up! Walk out—please, please!" But Aemond did not move. His world had ended in his arms, and nothing else mattered. He would not leave me, even as his life bled away.

The clamor receded, fading into a dull roar. The hall was painted red—blood and betrayal staining every stone. 

Lord Borros approached, his eyes cold and unfeeling. In one swift motion, he plunged a dagger into Aemond's heart. A final betrayal, a cruel punctuation to a night steeped in treachery.

Aemond's body slackened, his gaze never leaving mine even as the light dimmed. His hand fell from my face, our blood mingling one last time. 

And as his world darkened, a bitter realization settled—a fleeting comfort in the agony. 

Though torn apart in life's cruel twist, perhaps in the realm beyond, we would be reunited. 

There, beyond pain and death, love would remain unbroken—a bond forged in blood and sacrifice, eternal and pure.

A/n - The Red Wedding did something to me the first time I watched it and I don't think I've ever recovered from it.

Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy @veesuguru

[sorbriquette]

This is why its sooooo important to have female role models in your field.

You build that massive fuck off skeleton with wings Bellara.

I support you.