#dragon-prince-behemoth

[m4rs-ex3]

i will never get over the fact that rayla just gave esmeray a fucking smooch. god she is the cutest

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

IT'S THE WAY RAYLA IS EVERYONE'S GUIDING LIGHT FOR ME

[insufferablelust]

Aemond claiming you as his 🔥 SMUT

RAVISH [BYKA ZALDRĪZES] Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Targaryen Reader

This work contains mature acts, Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

Bind by her betrothal to the rider of Vhagar, the daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen meets Aemond Targaryen to find herself getting more than she ever expected.

Words counted: 6.9k (My sincerest apologies)

Content include: 18+ MDNI! Targcest (canon incest practice of the Targaryen house), Smut, Sex, Oral sex (F receiving), Heavy breeding kink, Chocking, Claiming of maidenhood, Manhandling, Slight degradation, Reader has the attributes of the Targaryens (silver hair, purple eyes etc), Mention of blood (nothing graphic).

Hello! this is my first time posting my work for any HOTD characters, thank you to the anon who requested, and special thank you & dedication to Gabrielle my friend who helped me Beta this work❤️ My request is always open for HOTD characters. English is not my native language so bear with me. Enjoy and let me know what you think! thank you my loves.

Masterlist

Rules to Request

You can feel the tightness of your evening attire wrapped around the slopes of your curves, with the long thick fabric that overlaps the bodice of your dress downwards. You stayed as still as you could when your ladies dressed you with much attentive eyes. Hands everywhere from the collar to the soles of your feet.

One of your ladies braid your silky silver hair loose but neatly, perfecting your looks for such occasions. One being the arrival of your uncle, the rider of the biggest dragon in all the realms, Aemond. You can feel the loud thumping of your heart against your ribcage, albeit constricted by the tight layers of your attire, it does not deter your nervousness.

Not only is his arrival would have significance on the chess play of the throne of the dragons, but it would bear you consequences that you, in fact, are unable to escape this fate. The fate you have little to say against. The near last wish of the king to betroth you to unite the two sides of the Targaryen blood. Marriage of dragon and dragon, hoping to conceal the gaping wound left by Viserys decisions.

Neither your mother nor your father can truly save you now as you have made your decision to choose your destiny to try and serve the realm the only way you know how. The rising tension and possible bloodshed of cousins and nieces are no longer needed, you had hoped, if you agree to this arrangement. You have no other choice than to take his hand in marriage, even if it means that you have to sacrifice your own freedom and the ambiguous name of the true heir.

You have yet to set your feelings for the rider of Vhagar, he is not only an enigma to you but, more so, a mystery that you are both eager yet scared to fully unveil. There is a part of you know that there is a darkness that surrounds his being like no other, as your brothers have always told you. However, if you are to take his hand in marriage, you would have to force yourself to see the light in him, as you wished for the Seven to guide you in your unprecedented path.

“Princess, pardon me but Her Grace, Queen Alicent has requested your presence at the gate, for Prince Aemond’s arrival.”

At once your shoulder straightened as you breathe out a heavy sigh, pulled out of your heavy thoughts by one of the servants. You smiled, and replied with a gentle “Of course, Lyana. I am to be done and head there right away.”

Closing your eyes briefly, you gathered your thoughts, and silently prayed to not only the Seven but to all old Gods of Valyria to gain you strength and will to overcome this behemoth of a challenge that is to be bestowed upon you in a matter of minutes. Opening your eyes again, you begin to shuffle your way out of the mighty wooden door, and off to your journey just outside of the Red Keep, on the gates overlooking Rhaenys Hill.

You’re accompanied by the two of your ladies as well as your trusted guard as you make your way down the castle. You can see in the distance the few people including the Queen, that has already stood patiently waiting for Prince Aemond’s arrival. You blushed as the foot of your dress sweep gracefully onto the stones below, your heart raced with anticipation of meeting your soon-to-be husband.

“Your Grace.”

You curtsied as you approached Queen Alicent, a sign of greeting and respect you have for the mother of the alleged battling heir to the throne. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you smiled as she gently touches your arm. Her smile is soft, casted as genuine, however, you can clearly see the tightness in them.

Alicent has always spared you more content than to others directly of your mother’s blood, your obedience to the crown, realm, and dedication to the Seven, helped her to overcome the dreaded raging crossfire between the two apparent heirs. Your demur soft upbringing, contented her enough to welcome you in a hug, albeit fabricated with quarrel.

“Princess, it is a delight for all of us to be blessed by your presence, in honor of the Prince, of course.” She replied, your lips set into a thin smile, as you bowed your head to Princess Helaena. Unlike to her brothers or your step aunt’s entourages, you have a knit bond with Helaena, having to endure the chaos of the brooding conflict in the throne, you both shared the same wish to cultivate what was once a peaceful reign and put an end to the family’s misery. You watched attentively as she rubbed her swollen belly, knowing full well the usurper successor of your mother’s rightful throne cradled in the form of the babe inside her body. Your eyes fleetingly meet hers as you continued to smile.

“As it was a delight for me to procure your request of my presence, Your Grace. I am of honored to be here for the Prince’s arrival.”

Alicent patted your arm one more time before you both overlook the land of King’s Landing, with the view of the Narrow Sea dances in your eyes. You were always amazed by the beauty of the realm, the blue greyish skies are your scenery, especially when you have the opportunity to ride on your dragon’s back. Oh how you wished you could just fly away to Dragonstone right about now and see your family again. Alas that too is wishful thinking.

You were suddenly halted of your longing when the sound of the bellowing of mighty Vhagar came to light, your eyes drifted to the source of such powerful force, as the silhouette of one of the greatest beast come into view. You admired her majestic wings from afar, eyes squinted at her fierceness, biting through the wind and seamlessly breaking through the clouds. As the dragon got closer to the Hill of Rhaenys, just outside the Dragonpit, you could also make out the rider of said beast.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Even from miles away from the ground, one would not miss the way he fiercely ride the biggest dragon alive known in all seven realms, a dragon he conquered to be his own, the dragon that came to him not when he was born yet when he was in his biggest pit of despair. Vhagar’s bond with her rider is as strong as ever, just like when she roamed the skies with Queen Visenya Targaryen once during Aegon the Conquerer’s reign.

You could make out the shadow of his being as he landed on Rhaenys Hill ever so smoothly, dismounting from the beast before patting her and giving her to the dragon keepers. You hissed in pain as you finally realized that you have been clenching your hand too tightly in front of you.

“Seven heavens dear, are you alright?”

You can hear the soft gasps, and murmurs around you, noticing how you clutched your fingertips together. You have not noticed the entire time that you had been so nervous, it numbed the pain of your even dull fingernails on the palm of your dainty hands.

“Gods.” You exclaimed feeling your palm stings, Queen Alicent noticed the whole thing, her eyebrows furrowed in worry, so did Princess Helaena. “Princess, may I accompany back to the keep? so we can clean your hands” Said Haelena softly, in which you find yourself grateful for.

A nod and curtsy came from you as you lower your head in shame, “I apologize Your Grace, My Princess, for I have unable to assuage my pain. May I please be excused to clean up?” Your voice is in the teetering edge of whimper, eyes too humiliated to stare into Alicent or Helaena’s eyes. If you could summon your dragon here and then, you would and fly away with her so you don’t ever have to come back to Kings Landing but the luck of the Seven was never truly behind you since the start.

“Very well, Princess. Please see to it that the maester is make aware of her condition, and let her heal properly.” Alicent replied sternly, her voice laced with bitter shame covered with fantom worries, and she encouraged Helaena to accompany you, stressing that it would not be much fuss that neither of you would be there to greet the one eyed Prince.

You curtsied once more, before turning away from the looks of all the ladies and lords that have awaited for the Prince’s arrival. You tried to drawn out the murmurs in the background as your hem of your dress shuffled across the cobblestone, making your way back inside the keep.

Haelena was patient as she accompanied you to the Maester’s healing chamber, making small comments so that they are well aware of your little incident. The blush on your cheeks has yet to subside nor does the pounding in your chest. The bodice strangling you from the outside, as your own fear strangled you from within.

“Niece, however are you feeling? has the pain subsided?”

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the soft ringing of Helaena’s voice, your mind eased a little hearing her, she is a soothing presence in the midst of your confusion. You may live in King’s Landing, however your soul have always been with your family, home is wherever they were, and that was Dragonstone. How you so badly wanted to be there.

“No need to be worrisome, muñus. By the will of the gods, I shall be fine. It was just my foolish mistake. I should have been more careful.” Aunt.

The last words that left your mouth were that of a whimper, small plea you made to yourself. A plea that you knew would save yourself and possibly the realm had you not make the same reckless mistake over and over again. Helaena whom has been pestering over the healers, sit down besides you. She might be your aunt by bloodline, but she is also closer to your age, knows the burden you carry with the looming threat of the crack in the lair of the dragons.

“Dare I ask what is occupying your mind, dear?”

There is a tinge of pleasant playfulness in her voice that didn’t fail to make you tilt your head and chuckled. Sighing, “None of the matter, My Princess, it is merely a big day for us all.” You looked straight into her eyes as you replied, knowing full well she would understand what does big day entailed.

“Jorrāeliarzys, a fierce dragon such as yourself need not be worry of any apprehension.”

She clicked her tongue at you like a mother scolding their child, you feel comforted by the warmth she displayed to you knowing full well all of this heap was due to her own brother’s arrival upon the keep. Aegon himself has not been able to sleep peacefully since he catches the news of his brother’s wind in Kings Landing.

“Thank you, Helaena. I shall pray that the Prince arrives at the gates safely—“

Your moment was cut short however when you both heard the huge door opening, revealing the two guards that stood in front. Your breath hitched slightly, when you took upon notice the presence whom have entered the healing chambers.

“Brother, welcome.” You quickly took back your hand as soon as the maester was done wrapping it up in a soft silk cloth, concealing your earlier omission from him. Your eyes had not dared to look into his, instead focusing them on the ground beneath your feet as the brother and sister embraced each other in front of you.

Had you not looked away, you would have seen that Aemond’s eyes have certainly never wavered from your presence, his attention was on you as soon as he arrived to the gates. Blood boiling with fury as he had heard what had happened to you. It was supposed to be a happy day, at the very least for him, as it is the day he was going to set eyes again on you. His future wife. The queen to his soon to be realm, the one whom he will fight for.

His eyes has yet to set ashore from your slightly trembling body, it only darted towards your enclasped hands in front of you. “Do you wish to retire to your chambers? you have had a long day on Vhagar’s back.” You can hear Haelena’s voice ring, you wanted so much to greet him as you are accustomed to, however you found your lips to be very hesitant. No sound came out.

“I shall retire later, sister. I wish to see the princess first as I have been made aware of her conditions.”

The smooth sound of his thick voice caresses you softly, yet it leaves a rough grip on its awakening, just like dragon scales. You tilted your head slightly, finally looking at him as you have been sought after.

“My Prince.” Your voice finally escaped your lips, breathing a shaky breath as your eyes locked with his. “Welcome back, the keep has not been the same without your presence.” You smiled gently, lips pressed into a thin line— there is so much resistance coming from you and he knows it.

Aemond then stepped forward, standing in front of you. You felt his dominating figure as he towered over yours, making you swallow the bile in your throat. Your breath, however, hitched in your throat as he tenderly brings your hands upwards, bending over a little to place a lingering kiss atop of the cloth covered skin. “How severely does it hurt, My Princess?”

Shivers come washing down on you when you felt his lips ever so gently grazes your skin, even through the cloth you can feel his warm breath, his attentive touch and words releases a bit of pressure off your shoulders. But you must not let your guard down as you are still standing in front of a man that has caused way too many mishaps for your house. The threatening presence to the house destruction, yet, all of that just gravitated yourself closer to him.

“It barely hurts… All is well, My Prince—“ You replied eyes darting between his patchless eye, and to Helaena behind him whom watching this whole encounter with a smile, “I apologize to have caused you much trouble upon your arrival day, for I swear to the Seven, I did not mean it.”

You can hear Aemond clicks his tongue in front of you, clearly unamused to you apologizing for something that causes you terrible pain. After all you are to be his wife, he would always protect you even if it meant from your own self. “By all the realms, you have no need to apologize-“ He tilted his head in what you can only take as a menacing smug gesture with a grin.

“I’ll take your hand in marriage in less than a moon time, and soon your hand would cradle my babe, I am merely seeking to even give you a new hand, if My Princess ever so wishes for one. Hm, ñuhys jorrāeliarzy?” My beloved.

That pulled a hefty gasp out of you, your hands that were still in his grasp turned so cold. Although it is not a new matter that the King and Queen has betrothed you both, it still feels like you’re reverted to how you are a shy maiden, not nearly as experienced as he was in anything. You have your mother’s wit as well as fierceness, your father’s attitude yet you always find yourself in another dichotomy altogether where you’re more demure than those of your siblings characters, Jacaerys is a wise leader, so as your other brothers, you— you are something else. Never wish for any power yet contented to defending your own.

“I suppose so, My Prince. However you needn’t to worry. I shall be fine by the time moonlight arrives.” You replied with trying hard to keep up with his intense eye contact. It was difficult for you to not drown in his lilac eyes, his silver hair, perfectly sculpted jaw, and even more domineering stance. You have wished sometimes that the Gods would just damn you in the Grand Sept for your lewd thoughts.

“Very well, little dragon. I shall see you during supper tonight, for I can not wait to have a feast.” The last words may not he spoken loudly as his lips were truly beside your ears, however, you can hear it as it was meant to be heard by you only. Your cheeks could not contain the warmth that rises to its surface, only spreading further down your neck— flustered and hot everywhere when the back of his nimble fingers grazes your cheeks twice.

“Whatever do you mean by—“

“We shall meet again, Princess.” With a tentative smirk and a chuckle, he put down your hand and left as he was never there, with his own clasped behind his back striding out of the healing chambers. Your mouth still agape as to what he meant, your heart raced as your body burned with desire. You can only wish to be spared tonight, as you wanted to keep your virtue until you wed.

—

The gold ring glimmered under the light of fire within your chambers, you keep twirling your hand to get a glimpse of the engraved Valyrian words across the ring itself. Byka zaldrīzes. The writings wrote, there is a small ruby gem on the top, adorned with small scales to imitate that of your dragon’s— Silverwing. Aemond had given this to you few moons ago, when the Queen and small council have decided to betroth you both. It is “A token for our betrothal, to remind you that I have promised in the name of the Seven and all Gods to solely devote myself to you.” He had said. Little dragon.

Your heart fluttered at the thought, even when everyone deemed him the cold even sometimes heartless prince, he had shown you slivers of his tender nature. You of course knew of what transpired during his childhood, you knew of his torment, and his tormentors— you were there to witness by your ears, always trying to comfort him afterwards out of goodwill. The memory of it all remained fresh in your memories. After the death of your younger brother, Lucerys, both side of the throne were cold as ice, sharp as Blackfyre— alas you too would fly to Dragonstone if not for the binding vows of the betrothal your mother had arranged when you were a mere child.

You see, you were supposed to marry Aegon, the usurper soon to be king, however that came short when she decided to wed Aegon with Helaena instead, and reconcile the betrothal the deal, with binding you to Aemond, instead. At the time you knew the reason why she were to wed Aegon because Alicent disapprove of your twin brother Jacaerys for his lack of Valyrian blood, or so Alicent claimed. 

You, however, was spared of the thoughts considering you were born with silver hair, striking that of your twin brother— mayhaps the reason why you were so fragile as a child, the Maester thought once that you could not have made it far to adulthood let alone reach your 15th name day. Your hand might be taken by a man you do not wish to wed out of loyalty to your mother but perhaps, unable to escape, this is the best possible outcome you could possibly get. 

Letting out a sigh, you smoothen the red and gold dress you’re wearing, the sheer fabric on the sleeve of your arms are giving you room to breathe despite the tightness of your attire. Few strands of your silver locks tied in a braid behind your head, whilst the rest flowed down your shoulders freely. The most beautiful maiden in the realm, the ladies often said. You admired yourself in the mirror, before hearing the door knock.

“Forgive me, Princess, but Her Grace, the Princes, and Princess have all waited for you in the dining hall.”

“Thank you, Lyana. I shall depart right away.”

Taking a deep breath, you shuffled your way out your chambers and into the dining hall. Two guards were stationed in front of the giant door, you nodded your head before they opened it. Taking a sight to your views, you can see the familiar faces of the Queen, your uncles and aunt. It seem that there is only five of you present, with one babe cradled inside Helaena.

“Your Grace, My Princes, and Princess.” You curtsied and bow your head before making your way inside. You locked eyes with that of Aemond’s, his lips curled into a grin as he set eyes on your beauty, before settling on the ring adorning your finger. You can also feel the heated gaze of Aegon interlocking between you and Aemond, Gods, you hope there will be no quarrel tonight between the two.

“Niece, it is a pleasure to be graced by your company again.” Came the voice of Prince Aegon with a smirk, already looking halfway intoxicated by the wine perched on his silver glass. “As it is mine, Your Highness.” you sat down on the chair, smiling at your hosts. “For I can see that my brother is assured to be… joyous.” Aegon chirped, you didn’t miss the glares Aemond threw his way.

“Has the remedy by the Maester treat your hand well, Princess?” Helaena asked you before giving his brother a chance to refute, you were thankful for her quick response. Darting to your palm, recognizing the piece of cloth it is still wrapped in. Trying not to grimace of your earlier humiliation, you just nodded your head, “Yes Princess, I cannot seldom express more of my gratitude for your kindness. It is treating very well.”

“That is a very good news indeed, now we shall feast on the supper.” Queen Alicent smiled at you, looking as uncomfortable with the brooding tension of her own sons— gesturing to the table in front of you. “How was the trip, Prince Aemond?” You tenderly tried to slice yourself a piece of roasted duck, only to hiss with the ever looming pain, sighing, you heard a click of the tongue belonging to none other than your betrothed.

“Allow me, niece.” Aemond voice cut through the silence as he offered to slice your meal for you. Warmth feels your cheeks once more as you pass your knife to him so he can cut it.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“It was pleasant enough, Vhagar was restless as she had to fly during a hailstorm, however, the journey felt too long knowing what awaits me in King’s Landing.”

The implication of his words made you look around, seeing his brother, the very man that threatens your mother’s throne snickered and with a huge grin adorning his face.

“My my, you have grown, brother, I did not know you could be so… feeble.” He swings his now empty cup so the servants can pour more wine inside. You inhaled sharply at his comment, knowing what awaits.

Shocks were thrown around the room as suddenly, the knife in the hand of your betrothed—belonging to you, are raised upon the soon to be Usurper’s King direction.

“I can and will have your tongue for that.” The air around you is thick with tension, “Aemond!” his mother gasped, a rivalry of heir successors that you have rarely seen in Dragonstone between your siblings, yet appear to be so common now in the grand pillars of the Keep.

“Enough—“

“You could do well try, if you can get past my guards, weakling.”

“Still hiding behind your guards? you are no man, merely a boy sent to be a fake king.” Aemond jabs, standing at his full height now— knife right against his brother’s neck. The clanking sound of the knight’s armor can be heard.

“and I still fuck my whores better than you do, brother.”

Next thing you heard was the loud banging of your knife on Aemond’s hands carved deep inside the table, he had stood up in a rage of fury, if looks could kill, Aegon Targaryen would be 12 feet under by now.

“I said enough!” You have in rare occasions see Queen Alicent be this mad even when her sons drove her crazy, let alone hear her voice this loud. The staring feast between Aegon and Aemond lasted even after the Queen told them to cut it off, looking at Helaena whom seem to be uncomfortable by the situation, you clear your throat and placed a soft hand gently on the back of Aemond’s shoulder.

“My Prince, perhaps I can show you, around the Keep? it has been long after all since you last set foot here.” You tried to keep yourself composed.

You carefully thread your words so neither brothers or queen for that matter, would raise the growing tension ever more. You bravely looked towards Aemond’s piercing stare at his drunken brother. A pregnant pause followed suit, before Aemond let out a scoff and turned around.

The screeching sound of his chair was loud in the silence that cut through the hall, he began walking away as you threw a curtsy before the Queen, and scurried after him outside the hall.

“Prince Aemond, please wait.” You tug the midway of your silk dress so you can follow his pace but he walked with as much rage as he did before. Slender and tall figure scurrying away. Hearing no reply coming from him, you let out a sound akin to a desperate whine.

“Dear will you please— Ah!”

You suddenly feel your back pressed against one of the walls inside the small hall not far from where the bed chambers were located. The walls felt cold to your back, your breathing was loud, so was his. Only then you registered that one of his hands were on your neck, wrapped around your delicate throat with enough pressure to block out some of the air when you inhale. The necklace given by your mother digging through your neck.

“You are quite the woman now, aren’t you, niece?” a teasing chuckle came soon after, “I am intrigued on how you have kept your innocence for all the time I have been gone, hm?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“W-what does that entail, Aemond?” your lips trembled when you speak of his name, you can feel his knees pressed to open the gap between your thighs— causing you to gasp and widen your soft lilac eyes.

“Still remains a maiden, Princess?” Aemond tilt his head, smiling throughout.

“I— of- of course, what are you so boldly implying?” You were taken aback by his implications, the stinging tears on your eyes are threatening to fall down along with the hoarseness of your voice.

“lykirī, issa jorrāeliarzys—“ scoffing in amusement, “I merely wanted to know how hard I can fuck you tonight.” You tried to wiggle away from his hold against your neck only for him to, once more, clicked his tongue at you as if you’re a disobedient child, and put his other hand on your waist to steady you against the wall— leaving no space to go. Calm, my love.

“ah ah, do not make a fuss now, sweet one. wouldn’t want to alert the whole castle on the doings of their virtuous Princess, now would we?”

You can feel his nimble fingers caresses the exposed skin of your hunched dress, the silk making way for his touches to graze yours ever so tantalizingly. “I have dreamed of this, —of you like this.” He muttered, “each time you soothed me after your cunt of brothers disrespected me.” you were still much shocked and flustered at his ministrations. Lips moving down to capture your neck, slowly moving down to the column of your now exposed throat.

“Aemond— not here…”

“Hush, dove. Now that you will soon be my wife, I shall have you whenever, wherever, and however I desire to.” His words are muttered against your skin, drawing soft breathy whines from you.

“Aemond, we should n-not… Please…” You tried to reason with him, even when your hips grinds against his pants covered knees— still nudged in the slope of your inner thighs. You felt your clothed bundle of pleasure rubbed ever so slightly against him when he further raised his knee against you. Making you whine in delight and frustration. “Gods! mmh, aem!”

“Seems to me that you wanted this as much as I do, little one.” He teased as he continues his quest, deep kisses left in his wake, “I shall claim you how I see fit, wouldn’t you say so, princess?”

You tried to answer him but only mewls and whimpers escaped out your lips as you continued to grind against his knees, meeting his now fasten pace, and the kisses on the sensitive spot on your neck just below your jaw is making you high. Gods, it feels like you’re set ablaze by thousands of dragon fire.

“Asked you a question, niece.”

“Yes! Gods yes! take me however you desire.” Your resolve has been breached once and for all, for you can not escape how intoxicating his touches are. You have been to wound up with all the realm duties, indulgence is not one for the Princess, however your desire is far too strong to resist your soon-to-be husband.

“You may not be a whore from the common streets, but you are my own, byka zaldrīzes.” Little dragon. “You will know how wrong my brother was after I fucked you.”

“and I still fuck my whores better than you do, brother.” The words exchanged by Aegon now rings on your ear.

Wanton moans escaped your lips as he continued his assault on your neck, he bent down a little to access the hem of your embroidery to push it down— you whined at the loss of his knee on your soaked cunt, “Why’d you st— oh gods!” you threw your head back against the wall at the feeling of his warm lips engulfing your now hardened buds.

“Patience.”

He muttered sharply before suckling on your teats, nipples darkened with blood rushing to them— all plump and Aemond salivated to the thought of them filling up when you, one day, will bear his child—children. “Cannot wait to fill you up, watch you swell with my babe.” He groaned, switching from one buds to the other— left you panting.

“Ah mm! can’t wait— oh! to carry your heir, my Prince…”

Whilst his mouth is preoccupied by your left nipple, his fingers are tweaking your other one, pulling and twisting— making you writhe in pleasure, you are sure that your small garment is soaked by now.

“You will never be able to escape me in our marit—“

You both were pulled from your pool of lust and pleasure when you heard the clanking noises of a knight’s armor rounding the corners of the Red Keep. Your eyes wide as you tried your best to push Aemond away only for him to raised an eyebrow and covered your mouth with his hand.

“Shh, do not make a sound, little one.”

You were about to protest when you felt his other hand trailing up your haunched hem, his feet parting your lets.

“nnh—“ you tried to speak against his hand, but he just let out a scoff and pushed you impossibly deeper to the wall.

“Rȳbās.” Obey.

Pleasure overtook you as Aemond’s fingers pushed aside your garment, fingers came in contact with the flushed slick soaked flesh of your needy cunt. “you are enjoying this.” He shake his head with so much amusement to his gleaming eyes and smirking lips—voice just above a whisper to make sure no one heard him, but if you have to guess, he wouldn’t care if someone catches you anyways.

“Here I though my little Princess is a pious woman, and here she is, with a dripping cunt begging me to fuck her.”

You heard the clanking sound moving away, noises slowly disappearing into the cold night. “I’d rather say you have been wanting me to do this, is that what you mean by showing me around?” He chuckled deeply, feeling your already flustered face, heated more.

You gasped a breath of relief when his hand unclasped your mouth, “N-no. I truly wanted to—“

“No need to lie, zaldrītsos. Your cunt tells me enough.” with that he gave your pearl of pleasure a slap, you jolted with a loud whine “Aemond, fuck!” Little dragon.

Your pleasure was short lived, however, when he wrapped his arm below your knees before pulling you up his shoulder. Hauled you up before strolling down the hall to where the royal apartment quarters sits.

“Put me down, Aemond!”

“Quiet.”

He playfully patted your arse as he make his way to what you presume to be his chamber. You did not get a good look if there were guards stationed outside, as you thought they would be— he is the prince after all, it’s not like he could care less.

Aemond slam the door shut, before he puts you down and you catch your breath.

“Aemond, what was th—mmmh!”

Your complaints were cut short when he pressed his lips against yours in a passionate manner, lips engulfing your own, as his tongue breached past to enter your hot cavern. His free hand move up to grasp your hair in a tight knot as he slowly move you back towards his bed, the back of your thighs hitting the edge.

His tongue continued to explore yours as his hands roam over your body, from your sensitive jugular to your taut breasts, belly and the conjuncture of your thighs. You let out a gasp of relief and shock as he pushed you to the bed.

Aemond wasted to time to flip you over and manhandled you so that you’re face down on the bed, your back in a perfect arch, silver locks flows beautifully— your arse is up in the air, whilst your feet dangled from the edge. Having ripped your evening attire off, you’re left bare. Cunt exposed. Needy, soaked, and desperate for his attention.

“Kostilus…” your begs are mere muffled mewls by now as he stood to admire your beauty. Gods. He has waited for this for a long time. Your betrothal might just be the cure to his raging agony. Please.

You heard a thud—“Oh Gods!” throwing your head back, as his cold fingers gathered your slick and run them along your folds, gently at first. You turn your head slightly to see him only to had your moans halted.

It’s Aemond, but he no longer wears his eye-patch. His sapphire gem shone bright under the moonlight that seeped through the night sky of King’s Landing. His soft lilac eyes gleamed too. You’re enthralled by his beauty, every marks and turns.

“My, my… you’re drenched. Desperate, aren’t we?” He scoffed at your agape mouth, feeling his 2 of his fingers entering your cunt with vigor, you closed your eyes tightly as you clench on him in instinct. “Ah ah, none of that, open them now, dove.”

Your eyes fluttered open as he commanded, “Look at me, Princess—“ you did with your eyes droopy and sinful lips parted in shallow breaths, “In less than a moon time, you shall find yourself in this situation, each night in our marital bed, ñuhys ābrazȳrys.” it delighted you, and heated the fire in your core to hear his devotion. My wife.

“Y-yes husband.”

Aemond groaned as he sped up his fingers, squelching noises now aloud bouncing off the walls, “Say it again for me.”

“ahh.. mmh! fuck— I am yours, husband, I promise by the Seven!” His fingers grazed your most sensitive spot, as his palm graze your pearl.

“After I claim you, I’d have anyone’s heads that dared to look at you as I do.” The silken sheets beneath your fingers now creased as you keep on clenching them, “Not that they will ever try, not after you begin to swell.” you arched your back with your toes curled, building release arose inside your belly, “with my seed, my babe, my heir.”

“fuck yes! yes yes! as many as you wish.. please, Aemond!”

“Come for me, little one. I’ll fill you up afterwards.” His free hand tangled itself on your silver locks to yank it back, your body shaking with your high so close, eyes teary with your lips wet, raw, and bitten. Truly a sight reserved only for the Gods.

One more brush of his palm against your pearl simultaneously with his fingers abusing your core, all of it was too much as you let out a silent scream, you came on his fingers.

“Good lord! Aemond…”

“Fuck, princess…” His fingers does not let up, however, and continues its assault inside your now gushing cunt. “You are Gods sent.” He whispered before pulling his fingers out slowly, watching you thrash on the bed, licking his fingers afterward.

“Beats the sweetest Westerosi wines.”

You have no more strength to reply as your legs felt like jelly, however the heat in your cheeks and race of your heart never cease, your eyes blink slowly when you heard the soft clad of his tunic, then followed by his cloth pants fell down the floor.

“Ae—mmh!” Toes curling at the feeling of the flushed hard tip of his cock gliding over your now oversensitive folds, “Ready, little dragon?” he teases the entrance of your weeping cunt as you whined,

“Just put it in— Oh!”

“You—fuck! you are greedy for a maiden.” He slowly thrust his tip inside you making you wince at the intrusion. “Aemond… it hurts…” you closed your eyes briefly for Aemond’s length is not to be messed with… long, width as thick, and curved on the tip. You wish you have more time in the future to admire him fully. “Shh shh, the pain will subside soon, little one, stay with me.”

To ease the pain, his fingers once again found haven on your clit, softly pressing as you jolt in overstimulation, “Mmnh.. please…” your body is writhing in both pain and pleasure, “Hells, you’re so tight.” He grunted, pushing inch by inch as your cunt accommodates his size, before pushing it in one thrust.

Your back arched deeply as your mouth agape, loud mewls and moans escapes them on a rapid rate, as you sure the guards will be able to hear by now. His free hand let go of your hand and move to place them on the slope of your hips before moving to pull almost every inch of his length, then slams it back down to the hilt.

“You f-fill me up so much, my prince.” Moans are now freely came out of your lips, as he continued his unrelenting pace, thrusts that are deep as well as it is hard, giving you no chance to catch your breath. You felt like you are flying with your dragon, its that high pleasure that are like no other. “and I shall do— fuck, again and again to ensure my seeds take.”

Though composed, you can hear his breathing shallower than usual, his thrusts are erratic yet remains a choking pace on you. Your fingers grasp the sheets so tightly, you’d have no excuse if the maids found it shred the next day. “My prince—“

“Close?” he can feel your cunt tightening, and holding a vice grip to his cock, the clench made him lose his mind. Gods, he’d stay inside of you all day if you let him, “I’d rather spend my life inside you than to deal with my cunt of a brother.”

“and… and i’d let you.” your voice are jagged, as your body thrown forward and backward following his pace, cock filling your walls— you can feel every vein and ridge, making their indents known to claim you. “What an obedient little wife you’d be.” he muttered with vigor, his hips never relenting to stop, always reaching your spot.

“Only for you, my—oh! my prince!” your peak is nearing, you can feel it so does he, fastening the fingers on your clit, “Come for me, little one. Do it.” He encouraged you, he leaned down and kissed your shoulder tenderly, “Avy jorrālean, zaldrītsos.” I love you, little dragon.

“Av— aaah oh gods!” you threw your head back, back arching and, “Aemond!” you peak, coming from him harder than the last, body slumping to the sheets as your high took over. “Please… please, fill me up. put your h—heir inside of me.” You begged with the last ounce of your strength.

Your cunt clenching on his length so tight that he is so close to reaching his own release, “Gonna put a babe in you, gonna— fuck! watch you swell over and over again.” He groaned loudly, feeling himself getting lost on you, in you.

“Avy jorrālean.” You half whine and whispered, “fuck!” Aemond releases inside you, coming with his seed pumping you full, whispering your name over and over again, against the skin of your neck. I love you.

You both panted, he held your now full belly in his palm before sliding out of you gently— his actions so soft and light, a striking contrast to his earlier ministration. “Oh.. Princess..” He cooed tenderly at you when he flipped you over and look to where you’ve separated, eyes focusing on your mixed fluids. “stop looking its—“

“Ah ah, shush, little dragon. let me take care of you.” He kissed your lips once more before placing a soft pillow beneath your head.

There and then you knew that you might not marry the kindest man, nor the man you dream of in all seven realms, however, you knew in your lonely despair, being wed to Aemond would satisfy your affections. Soon thereafter, you marry and in less than a moon time your belly began to swell, and you can only wish to raise the babe with your husband in a safe unbroken house.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! First i loved the reader + cannibal works you did.

Second, you could write small or big idk pieces of reader and him having their bond and seeing others react to it. It would be funny to see some of them go "excusme this not high blood claimed CANNIBAL?"

And Cannibal just there like "its my human, shut up before i eat you"

Also, HC that Cannibal would totally take the reader to a different place since he finds the rest of humans so 🙄🙄🙄🙄 and 100% sure he was touched when reader bowed to him :,)

Cannibal will always be my favourite dragon, Balerion coming a close second but come on! A dragon who never had a rider cuz no one was worthy?! Imagine the history you’d make when claiming this absolute unit!

You wouldn’t say that you claimed Cannibal like most people have assumed, if anything you’d describe what you and the behemoth mad was more of a connection, a bond that went deeper then that of dragon and rider. It was rather difficult thing to explain to people because the only people who would understand had a hard time themselves coming to terms with the fact that someone without a single trace of Valyrian blood in their body had accomplished what many could not; claim Cannibal.

You truly believed that everyone had the ability to be a dragon rider but the unfortunate reality was that half of them ever would was incredibly rare. So for those that were dragon riders, it was the highest honour imaginable and you were now one of them!

Your bond with Cannibal was unlike any other, it was almost as if this spark, this fire, connecting the two of you to a point where you didn’t know when you began and where Cannibal ended. You could sense Cannibal’s distrust for all humans, especially those who had Valyrian blood running through their veins no matter how small it may be, he hated them all as equally as he did the other humans. With you however Cannibal harboured a deep possessiveness over you. You were his rider after all and he didn’t like it when people like Aemond, Daemond or Rhaenyra got anywhere within distance of you and would blow fire at them without an ounce of hesitation.

‘Cannibal.’ You hissed after Cannibal tried to roast Rhaenyra alive for merely touching your arm in congratulations. The dragon only kept his piercing green eyes on the silver haired woman in red next to you, looking at her with hostility and contempt.

‘It is..quite alright my dear.’ Rhaenyra tried to console you but the daggers your dragon was driving into her back was enough for her to take a step back, she had the blood of the dragon and therefore didn’t fear them but Cannibal was a dragon of unpredictability and therefore must be treated with caution. ‘No harm done.’ She flashes you a smile before departing back to the castle. You sighed before looking at your behemoth of a dragon whose eyes dilated upon seeing you finally pay attention to him, his tail wagging slightly behind him.

‘You are more than your worth sometimes.’ You murmur as you scratched his head before swiftly mounting him as he flew you both off of DragonStone and elsewhere where you wouldn’t be disturbed, but you couldn’t help but thank moments like those that were just for yourself and your dragon as you do tend to get tired of getting asked the same shit ten times over. Yet you swore you had claimed an antisocial cat instead of a dragon whose whole reputation was eating dragons, humans and dragon eggs alike. This was merely one example of how possessive Cannibal got, it was far worse when it was a man like Aemond, then that’s when Cannibal became far more hostile than usual.

For the moment the dragon saw the one eyed prince approach you, his tail immediately shielded you from view while roaring at the prince to fuck off back to his fossil of a dragon, huffing smoke from his nostrils and baring his teeth. ‘I’m going to call you Cannibal the cat if you keep this up.’ You told the dragon as you moved from behind his tail to greet Aemond, who was looking at Cannibal with an unreadable expression. ‘Fascinating.’ He muttered softly as he looked at you.

‘What is?’ You asked.

‘The fact that the first person to ever claim Cannibal is someone with no Valyrian blood nor ancestry to speak of.’ Aemond replied and you couldn’t help but scowl at this, feeling as though this was meant to be some sort of dig at you, but then again the joke was on him because he wasn’t the only one to ride with a dragon of legend anymore.

‘Can you blame me? I don’t rest dragons like their weapons to be used to threaten people in bending the knee.’ You spat back. ‘Sounds to me like you are compensating for the fact that you would’ve been viewed just like any other house in Westeros had it not been for the very Dragons you ride, and yet here you are, treating them as though their disposable while pondering why it maybe that their dying out.’ You added, staring Aemond down as his jaw twitched, you had struck a nerve but all you did in response to that was shrug your shoulders. ‘Sounds a bit hypocritical dont you think my prince?’

‘You know nothing of the word.’ Aemond said lowly as he stepped towards you, only to be greeted by Cannibal’s shadow looming over you both, lowering his head to glare at Aemond from behind you while you looked directly at the prince; unbothered and calm by the whole thing.

‘I wouldn’t but I’m sure your bloodline is more familiar with the misuse and treatment of Dragons than I am.’ You said, feeling no fear with Cannibal having your back, literally, as you looked back at your companion with a smile. ‘Let’s us go somewhere else Cannibal, I fear we may have overstayed our welcome.’ Cannibal only made a sound akin to that of purring and taking that as your que to bid Aemond farewell and mounted Cannibal once more and left.

You had Cannibal’s back and you knew he had yours as well and that’s what you prided your connection on, never had you ever known a more peaceful nights sleep, not until Cannibal draped a protective wing over you to keep you warm during those nights where you just wanted to stay beside your dragon as you cuddled into his warm scaly belly. Your heart and his were one and you feared that without Cannibal, you’d loose apart of yourself forever and you’d treasure every moment you had with your dragon, no matter what may come for either of you in the future.

Now for some character reactions;

Aegon shits himself. Enough said. He will not go near you especially if Cannibal was constantly on the verge of wanting to eat him whole.

He doesn’t care of how you claimed him like others would, he’s terrified of Cannibal and doesn’t want to stay for long enough than he had to, he’s not about that life despite the family he’s reluctantly born into.

Aemond on the other hand was intrigued on how you managed to do such a thing, it was feet unheard of and yet you did it and without being eaten on top of that.

He also would view this as something that was predestined by fate or something like that. You and him being the riders of the largest dragons left alive in Westeros, imagine the destructive force the pair of you would be if you were to be wed to one another. It’s a thought that hasn’t left his mind since the day you claimed Cannibal and while the bitterness of your words stung him, that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to put an end to his dreams of you and him flying together on Vhagar and Cannibal in happy union.

He’s delusional but a dangerous kind, so Cannibal is always on high alert with him.

Otto would try pull out all the stops and arrange a marriage between you and Aemond, feeding into his grandsons dangerous delusions, claiming that you were only this way to see whether or not he would love you at your most stubborn. Besides what’s greater than having one large dragon on your side? Two large dragons!

So Otto doesn’t care about how you claimed cannibal but only the benefits for the greens of you doing so would be enough to have Rhaenyra’s forced yield and pledge for Aegon or die fighting, either way works out for the greens in the end but all he needed to do was get you with Aemond.

Rhaenyra found you claiming Cannibal to be a once in a life time miracle as it wasn’t often that a dragon was claimed by someone who wasn’t a descent of Old Valyria. For you had to be truly something for a dragon as stubborn and dangerous as Cannibal to agree to be yours and knows of the target that you have placed on your back by doing so.

To put it simply, she wants you on her side of the war when the time comes as a last resort should she need you in her most dire of times. You and Cannibal had a connection unlike any other she has ever seen and that makes you an essential asset that everyone will want. She wanted to get to you before the greens do and will try her hardest but it would take some time considering how on guard Cannibal is to anyone who wasn’t you.

He knew what she was doing but with time she hoped that you would get Cannibal to understand because if she nor the greens couldn’t get to you, then there would be another level of uncertainty in knowing that a nomad dragon rider and their dragon were taking to the skies with leisure. You and Cannibal were a lot more dangerous than you may think and that’s what scared her the most; you not understand the power you now hold with cannibal at your beck and call.

Jacaerys thought that someone who wasn’t of Valyrian decent couldn’t claim a dragon nearly as successfully as those of Valyrian descent could. However you managed to defy all expectations that were previously set and proven that the impossible could be possible through the right circumstances.

He had so many questions on how you did it but Cannibal would always stop him and take you away before he could. He had read stories about cannibal and knew better then to hop on Vermax and chase after you, and so he would just allow his mind to ponder on how it was that you managed to claim Cannibal without being consumed.

He too feared the eyes that you have no attracted to yourself by doing such a thing and would try his best to protect you no matter what but Cannibal was proving it very difficult to get close to you without fire being out at him. However Jace was determined to make sure that no harm came to you, even if he had to do so from afar.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Dragon On The Tower Roof.

Pairing: Yandere!Malleus x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 4.2k.

TW: Fantasy AU, Mentions of Blood/Bruising, Mentions of Injury to Reader, Implied (Consensual) Sex, Possessive Behavior, and Manipulation.

Malleus met you at the base of his tower.

With a single movement of his wings, he descended from his perch and landed in front of you – placing himself between you and the stone behemoth. Had you been a more imposing figure, a knight or a prince or the general of some distant army, he would’ve cut you down the moment you entered his valley, but your only armor was a thin rucksack tunic and your only weapon was a rusted sword – the tip of its chipped blade currently planted in the ground as you struggled to keep yourself on your feet. He could smell blood on you, although he couldn’t be sure if its source was the jagged, poorly bandaged wound on your calf or the dark stains painting your humble clothes. You were clearly not a knight, much less a prince, and if you were a general, your army had abandoned you long ago. Altogether, you were not the most intimidating nuisance he had ever had to dismiss. He might’ve been grateful, had you not been a nuisance at all.

In the past, his visage alone had been enough to make even the bravest adventure abandon their quest, but your weary eyes only glazed over his black-scaled wings, his spiraling horns, the slit pupils of his unnaturally green eyes. You acknowledged him with a slight nod, putting more of your weight on your makeshift aid. “I believe I’m here to slay you, dragon.”

His greeting, likewise, came in the form of a bowed head, a narrowed gaze. “And to rescue the prince, I assume.”

You shrugged, the gesture alone threatening to cost you your balance. “I’m sure they’d prefer if I didn’t. I think they’ve got someone else for that – a lord, or maybe a king. Someone more befitting than a filthy criminal, surely.”

At that, Malleus felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Novelty was rare, this far into his everlasting life, and he could not say he’d ever had a prisoner sent after his head. “What sort of crime gets you sent to the lair of a monster?”

You brightened at the question. “Thievery,” you answered, pride overshadowing your exhaustion. “I could either face you or let them cut off my hands and, well, I find those to be quite essential to my burgeoning career.”

This time, you earned an airy laugh, a reflexive flick of his tail. He took another moment to evaluate you before speaking. “You are tired, thief.”

It wasn’t a question, but you answered regardless. “It was a long journey. You aren’t an easy monster to reach.”

“And injured, presumably by the fangs of some great beast of legend.”

“Right again.” You paused, then added, “If there are any legends about wolves, I mean.”

“And hungry.” Your smile fell. When you failed to respond, he went on. “May I invite you to share a meal with me before our battle?”

He watched as you swallowed, as you straightened. Your sword was pulled from the ground and allowed to hang limply at your side as you stared up at him with such a hopeful expression – his heart, had it not been so terribly calloused, might’ve broken at the sight alone. “Well,” you started, your humor gone in exchange for pure, unabashed desperation. “I suppose I can’t refuse such a kindly offered invitation.”

With no further conversation, he stepped to the side, raising his staff to the tower. After only a moment, the endless cobblestone pulled away to reveal a simple, wooded door – already open and awaiting his entry. Smiling, he motioned for you to follow him, and without protest, you obeyed.

~

You ate, to put it politely, like a starving animal.

There’d been an attempt at decency when you first sat down at the opposing head of his banquet table, a gallant effort to make use of the flatware arranged into neat, never-ending lines on either side of your plate, but what little energy you had for such pleasantries was depleted quickly as your attention was dedicated entirely to the whims of your empty stomach. Countless other dishes decorated the table – ranging from fine delicacies fit for the pallets of kings to common staples even the lowest of peasantry would’ve been familiar with, but Malleus was content to nurse a goblet of dark, herbed wine as he watched you bask in the feast.

Only after you’d gotten your fill did you seem to remember that you had company, your expression taking on a sheepish note. “This is what they brought me to trial for. Trespassing, I mean,” you began, and Malleus hummed in acknowledgement. “It was a baron’s manor – not quite a castle, but close to it. I heard he had the most beautiful gardens on this continent, and at the time, it seemed unreasonable to have to wait for an invitation just to take a look.”

“I thought you were a thief?”

“You must have the wrong person. I’ve been many things, but never a thief.” You leaned back in your chair. “I’m afraid I’ve always been too tender-hearted for that kind of thing. I could never stand to insult my hosts.”

“Such a considerate guest I have,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose I won’t have to worry about being robbed blind if I let you stay the night, then.”

You shook your head, feigning ego. “I would never, dear dragon. Your reclusive prince, on the other hand—”

Whatever you might’ve gone on to say was swiftly replaced with a sudden gasp as every torch within sight burst into a pillar of vicious emerald flame, casting the dining room in a blinding, sickly green before dying out just as abruptly as it’d erupted. Malleus let out an exasperated breath, bringing a hand to his temples. “My apologies. My patience has grown—” He cast a wayward glance toward the ash now seared into the stone walls, the ceiling. “—thin, over my time here.”

You allowed a beat to pass by in silence, then another. “Your prince,” you said, finally. “Is he important to you?”

“I can think of nothing I value more.” The answer came easily, even if the intensity of his sentiment surprised him. “An old friend asked me to ensure his safety. I’ve performed my role dutifully ever since.” The taste of blood rose into the back of his throat, but he drowned it out with another long sip from his goblet. “They used to send entire armies to reclaim him, then lone knights, then the occasional adventurer. You might be the first human to come seeking my head in two or three decades.”

Your smile took on a shy lilt, your eyes drifting to the table. “I wasn’t really supposed to come after you, either. Most people just take it as an exile, but they gave me a sword, and…” It was your turn to laugh, now, to be surprised with yourself. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I thought, even if I don’t get to rescue any princes, it could be nice to see how much of the fairy tale is true.”

“And you’re satisfied with what you’ve found?”

“Not entirely,” you admitted. “But I’m glad I met you, dear dragon.”

After some hesitation, he pushed himself to his feet and closed the distance between you. You stiffened, your gaze flitting blatantly toward the sole exit, but you didn’t attempt to flee as he pulled the closest seat in front of you and fell into it. “May I see your leg?”

You were far more than reluctant, but complied. The material of your travel weary trousers was pulled above your knee, the strips of fabric you’d attempted to fashion into bandages cut away with his own pitch-black talons. The wound was worse than he’d assumed, more severe than he assumed. Ragged skin stretched from your knee to your ankle, harsh puncture marks littering what little flesh was still in-tact. The stress of your journey had prevented the brunt of the damage from healing, and even without the use of his advanced senses, he would’ve been able to feel the heat radiating off of your skin, the first signs of infection beginning to set in. You were lucky you’d made it to his tower before the fever spread. His territory was cruel to the most resilient of creatures, and you seemed far from resilient.

“I have a salve in my collection that should aid in your recovery. That, paired with a few days of bed rest, should have you on your feet again in a week’s time.” Not a lie, but not far from one, either. He’d mended worse with a snap of his fingers, but there was no reason you should have to be burdened with such knowledge. “If you can find it within yourself to share a roof with a monster and delay our duel yet again, I can provide room and board while you recover.”

Your laugh was bright and strained. “You’re terribly kind to someone who came here to take your life.”

“And you’re very trusting of a creature who could easily end yours.” He let his pointed claws scrape over your bare skin, prolonging his evaluation. “Think of it as a show of my gratitude. My time here is well-spent, but tends to pass slowly. Visitors, whether benevolent or malicious, help to color my days.”

“Then I will have to be the most colorful visitor you’ve ever had,” you chimed, your grin renewed with fresh vigor. Clearly, you were not the type of mortal who could go long without a task. “I’ll make you wait on me hand and foot and bend to my every whim, until the thought of encountering another human being makes you sick. When I’m done, there might even be a dragon in this tower worth slaying.”

His only response was a steady nod, a low hum. He stood and, in the same motion, hooked one arm under the bend of your knees and another around your waist, lifting you into the air before you had the chance to so much as think to pull away. Instinctually, you attempted to re-balance yourself against him, and Malleus couldn’t help himself – laughing as he pulled you to his chest. “If I am to dote on you to the point of sickness, then let me start now. You’re in no state to walk on your own.”

You opened your mouth as if to complain, but anything you might’ve said was deemed too unimportant to warrant the effort. Your smile softened, your eyes falling shut as you rested your head against his shoulder. You lingered there, quiet and content, as he carried you through the halls of what would come to be your home.

~

Your prescribed period of bed rest came and went. Your bruises healed, then your leg (although you still tended to limp during particularly heavy rainstorms), and your exhaustion was replaced by a buzzing sort of restlessness. He never asked you to leave, and after some time, you seemed to stop expecting him to. You spoke rarely of your past (aside from the ever-changing series of events that led you to his tower, of course) and never of your future. When Malleus was in one of his more indulgent moods, he allowed himself to believe that, when he did catch you looking in his direction with such a glimmering worry in your eyes, you weren’t afraid of him, but of the possibility that he might send you away.

Despite your claims of spoiled houseguests and encumbered hosts, he was only driven to near-madness once while sharing your company. It’d been shortly after you instated yourself as a resident of his tower, rather than a fleeting visitor, and took to exploring your new dwelling without reservation. It’d been his own fault, really. He’d forgotten to warn you away from the upper wing, to resketch the protective runes he’d long-since allowed to fade, but such rationality had escaped him as he stood in the doorway, his mind empty and his eyes trained on your kneeling figure. He watched, paralyzed, as you raised a hand, reaching towards the marble slab, and then he was behind you – the points of his talons grazing the skin of your throat before he managed to restrain himself, curling his fist around the collar of your shirt, instead. Without warning, he hauled you off your feet, ignoring the half-choked shriek you let out in response.

His eyes fell to Silver, searching for any signs of harm, of disruption. Of course, Silver was unchanged. His colorless hair remained fanned over his velvet-cushioned pillow, the silk sheets and hand-stitched quilts still folded neatly at the foot of his bed – waiting to be put to use when the weather turned in autumn. Malleus took a moment to observe the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the gentle movement behind his closed eyes, before letting out a breath of relief and turning to you. “I don’t recall giving you permission to enter this chamber.”

“Sorry, I— I was just looking around, and I saw the flowers on the door—” Silver’s own craftsmanship, preserved from the ravages of time by Malleus’ spell work. He’d painted them as soon as he was old enough to hold a brush, along with matching murals on his bedroom walls that hadn’t survived the passing ages. “—I got curious, that’s all. Is this the prince I was sent after?”

Malleus set his jaw, straightening his hunched posture. “…it is,” he answered, eventually. He let go of your collar and let you stumble onto your feet. “His name is Silver. I never knew him by any titles.”

Malleus’ gaze shifted to you, but your eyes remained fixed on Silver. “He’s beautiful.”

Despite himself, he felt the edge of his lips turn downward. He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you seemed to recover from your daze, turning to face him with a hopeful smile. “Do you know when he’s going to wake up?”

Malleus felt a coil of heat form in the back of the throat. The taste of ash laid heavy over his tongue, but he swallowed back his guilt and forced himself to respond. “In another hundred years, perhaps,” he mused, his tone melodic and detached. “There’s no known cure for a curse like his.”

A phantom of disappointment flickered across your expression, but it was suppressed quickly. Rather, you turned your attention outward – to the heavy, woven curtains draped over each crystalline window. “Will you help me let in some light? I hate to insult your taste, but it’s terribly depressing in here, and—” You brightened, taking him by the sleeve and tugging gingerly. “We don’t want his highness to have any nightmares, do we?”

With some reluctance, Malleus nodded. “Light, but nothing else.” When you failed to acknowledge him, he caught you by the wrist, squeezing with just enough pressure for your smile to falter. “Light, but nothing else. Do you understand?”

Your eyes darted back to Silver, but only for a moment. He was thankful for that – for your restraint. A second longer, and his true nature might’ve overshadowed his better judgement. “Of course, dear dragon. Nothing else.”

He inhaled sharply, then let go of you altogether.

It was a choice that, in the approaching months, he would only come to regret.

~

“This is what they banished me for, you know.”

“This?”

“Yes, this exactly.” You propped your chin on his chest, positioning yourself to more easily card your fingers through his hair. He let his eyes fall shut, basking in the warmth of your affection, of your bare skin pressed into his. Your clothes laid discarded on the grass around you, one of his wings bent and raised to shield you from the harsh light of the setting sun. He would have to get you back to the tower, soon. He’d always been indifferent to the deadly chill of night, but you – in your precious, delicate mortality – were not so durable. “Actually, not quite – I don’t think I ever made it to this part. It was the first time I’d ever attended a royal ball, and I happened to dance with a young lady so breath-taking, I couldn’t help but drop to one knee and dedicate my heart to her the moment our hands touched.” You sighed, feigning remorse. “Little did I know that she was the princess that ball was being thrown for, and so moved by my passion, she refused to let me out of her embrace until I agreed to marry her. Of course, her father – the king, as the fathers of princesses tend to be – couldn’t have that. It’s a shame, really. We would’ve made a gorgeous couple.”

Malleus pursed his lips, fighting back a smile. “And what does that make me? The next scorned lover of a silver-tongued rouge?”

“Oh, no. If you asked me to marry you,” You propped yourself up, pressing a kiss into the curve of his jaw. “There’d be nothing in the world that could stop me, dear dragon.”

Your hand fell to his cheek, and wistfully, you lulled him into a kiss – shallow but lingering, punctuated with a playful nip at his bottom lip. You pulled back with a smile, another quick peck to his cheek. You moved to say something, but he interrupted you, as mournful as he was to cut off such a precious moment so callously. “I found your wildflowers.”

Immediately, your expression fell. “I made sure not to—”

“I know, beloved, I know.” You knew better than to lay a hand on Silver. Your small bouquet had been left on the corner of his bed, another additional chain of asters and lavender braided into one of the longer strands of his waist-length hair. As much as he wished he could say he was only concerned for Silver’s well-being, it wouldn’t have been the truth. Something else, something darker, had accompanied the discovery – something it would be better for you to stay ignorant of. “We’ve talked about this. Silver is vulnerable, in his current condition. Even the simplest luxury is an unspeakable risk.”

Your shoulders dropped, your body going slack against his. You bowed your head, burying your face in the dip of his shoulder, and despite his frustration with you, he didn’t push you away. “I’m sorry. It just feels so cruel to let him suffer alone.”

“He’s never been alone.” His tone was more curt than he’d meant it to be. “He’s always had me.”

“I know, but—” He expected you to raise your hair, to flash him that brilliant grin. Instead, you only settled against him, speaking softly into the crook of his neck. “He just seems so sad.”

Malleus took a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut.

Then, before he could let himself think better of it, he wrapped an arm around your waist. In one fluid motion, he turned you over – leaving you on your back, one of his knees planted on either side of your waist, your form tucked safely underneath his. His kiss was less gentle than your own – that deep, aching sort of hunger overwhelming his cautiousness as his tongue raked over yours, as he groaned unabashedly into your mouth. You returned his affection emphatically; your fingers soon knotted in his hair, your eager touch preventing so much as the thought of distance between your body and his. Because there never would be distance between you and him. Because there was no reason you should ever have to be taken away from him.

Hours later, when the last traces of light had faded and the stars were painted in swirling patterns across the sky, he would carry you back to his tower – unconscious and pliable in his arms. That would be the first night you spent in his bed, and as he laid there with you, he couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it would be if you never left.

~

The runes carved into Silver’s door were redrawn, Malleus’ enchantments refreshed, and your bittersweet sympathy slowly rotted into a distinctly bland melancholy. You didn’t speak of him (Malleus could only wonder how you ever managed to speak of anyone when so many of his marks so often decorated your skin), but he noticed new scratches around the well-rusted lock on Silver’s door, caught you braiding chains of daisies and crowns of marigolds with no intended recipient in mind, and at night, you tended to slip out of his hold and wander. Sometimes, he waited for you, lying awake as you hunted for whatever solace there was to find in the empty halls of an ancient tower. Most nights, tonight, he chased after you.

He found you in a window near the tower’s highest room, laid across the wooden sill, your back propped against the empty frame. He didn’t ask to join you – wordlessly lowering himself to the floor at your feet. As if by reflex, your hand fell to his horns, your thumb tracing over a particular ridge near the base as you broke the quiet. “Have ever told you why I’m here, dear dragon?”

Countless times, but he still played along. “Who has my heart been stolen by today, beloved?”

“A murderer,” you said, hollowly. “And not a particularly clever one, at that.”

He waited for you to go on, to spin some elaborate tale of love and loss and betrayal and poor humor, but you only lapsed back into silence, your gaze turning back to the pitch-black valley. He watched your vacant expression for a moment, then another before letting his eyes fall shut and resting his cheek against your thigh.

~

Malleus had expected there to be more anger than this.

You were in a similar position to one you’d taken the first time you stumbled into Silver’s chambers – kneeling beside his marble bed, your ever-weary eyes fixed on the unknowing object of your adoration. The only difference was that, today, Silver’s hand was raised to your lips, now slightly parted in shock. He didn’t have to guess at the source of your astonishment. In front of you, Silver was sitting up. His posture was unsteady, his eyes barely open, but the obvious was undeniable.

He was awake.

To think, there was something of merit to Lilia’s stories of true love after all.

Rather than anger, rage, pure and undiluted fury, an odd sort of calm settled over his blank mind as you snapped in his direction. Your astonishment turned to horror in an instant. “Malleus, I didn’t— I was only trying to—”

He put you out of your mercy quickly. He raised his staff and, propelled by some unseen force, you were torn away from Silver’s bedside and thrown against the nearest walls – the force of the collision far from fatal, but enough to leave you limp and unconscious. With your safety ensured, he stepped forward, approaching Silver. He was awake, but only just. So many decades of uninterrupted sleep would not be so willing to release him from their taloned clutches without a struggle, and there was a certain dream-like lull to the way his eyes skirted over the limited scenery before settling on Malleus, his features immediately softening in relief. “Malleus?”

“I’m here.” Malleus allowed himself a small smile before bringing the end of his staff to Silver’s forehead. “You can rest, brother.”

There was just enough time for the edges of Silver’s lips to turn downward before he collapsed back onto the marble slab. Malleus would arrange him later on. For now, his attention turned to you.

He gathered your crumpled form in his arms and carried you through the halls of his lonely tower, before stepping into the clear air and fresh heat of the valley. He laid you in the tall grass and, after taking a moment to appreciate your peaceful expression, brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek tenderly. The spell came to him instinctually, but he took his time, mourning the loss of your time together with each mumbled word. That was a silver-lining of immortality, though. Infinite time allowed for infinite repetition, and he couldn’t imagine giving up the opportunity to fall in love with you again.

When he was done, your eyes fluttered open, a smile quickly finding its way to your lips. “Hello, dragon.” You gazed darted to either side nervously, your mind struggling to catch up with your clever tongue. “I would love to introduce myself, but it’s the funniest thing – I can’t seem to remember what I’m doing here.”

He bit back a smile. You tried to force yourself into a more dignified position, but barely managed to get an arm underneath you before pausing, wincing, reaching for the back of your head and coming away with blood smeared across your fingertips. Malleus did what he could to hide his delight.

“You’re a thief. You injured yourself attempting to scale my tower. It was an impressive effort, but tragically unnecessary.”

This time, he couldn’t hide the wide, simpering grin that came to rest across his lips.

“I was always going to invite you inside.”

[aemondsbabe]

Oathkeeper

summary: aemond comes to winterfell to vie for favor and while cregan has his mind set on backing rhaenyra, you remain unswayed. will your indecision be his saving grace?

pairing: aemond targaryen x stark!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, brat taming, aemond is a little shit, choking, mild degradation, oral sex (f receiving), very lyanna mormont coded reader, aemond whimpers, he's down bad tbh he loves it, angst, allusions to violence but no actual violence, please no one kill me for the end lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.1k

a/n: happy 3k laura!! i'm so happy to be a part of this collab with you and so many of my other fantastically talented writer friends! check out the full milestone celebration here and the masterlist will be here!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

divider creds to @targaryen-dynasty

🦋my masterlist

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Icy air whips around you as you stand atop one of the many high stone battlements of Winterfell, eyes scanning the horizon; the grey earth and sky seem to meld together as one as the sun sets lower and lower. 

“It is our duty to hear them out, sister,” Cregan rumbles beside you, brow furrowed. Ice glimmers in your periphery when you glance over at him, the great sword strapped over your brother’s shoulder contrasts sharply against the deep black of the furs draped over his body, “If they come to us for aid, we must negotiate.”

The air around your lips turns to mist as you scoff, jaw clenched. Today, of all days, you could do without your brother’s condescending tone. 

“Negotiate,” you echo, pulling the thick white fur of your cloak more snugly over your shoulders as the wind seems to pick up, “They come with hardly any notice, with two dragons, and you still believe this is a negotiation?”

“Sister –”

“To call it anything but extortion is a fool’s game, Cregan,” you keep your eyes straight ahead, focused only on the horizon, when he turns to glare at you, nostrils flared. 

“Need I remind you that we are sworn to House Targaryen? That we have been for –”

“Which House Targaryen?” You swiftly counter, cutting your gaze to his with a biting scowl of your own. The wind gusts again yet you pay it no mind, hardly noticing when a shadow passes overhead. 

An all encompassing roar seems to vibrate the very air around you and you whip your head up just in time to see a behemoth of a beast duck down below the clouds, followed swiftly by a smaller, though no less monstrous, one that lets out a resounding cry of its own. 

“Gods be good,” you sigh, already feeling weary of this whole endeavor; you roll your eyes when you look to Cregan, only to find him positively beaming, entranced. You, however, would not be so easily wooed – of that, you were determined. 

Glowering, you turn your face to the sky once more and watch as the creatures circle one another, huffing when it dawns on you that their movements strikingly resemble two riders racing on horseback, goading and taunting one another. 

Shaking your head, your chest heaves with a tired groan, Seven Hells.

“I shall see you in the Great Hall when you have finished fawning,” you sigh once more before turning, leaving your brother to stand like some open-mouthed whore, gawping at the sky.

“My Prince and… my Prince,” Cregan’s voice echoes throughout the great stone hall, accompanied by the steady crackle of the enormous fireplace at its back wall, “We bid you welcome to the North, I trust your journey’s were pleasant ones.” 

The tension in the air is nearly palpable as you stand beside your brother, carefully watching the two dragonriders.The one on the left, Prince Jacaerys, stares straight ahead at Cregan, as if he doesn’t trust himself to look anywhere else. His dark brows are set in a slight scowl and his gloved hand hasn’t once risen from the pommel of his sword since he dismounted his dragon, who you’ve been informed bears the name Vermax.

Your gaze, however, seems continually pulled to the right, determined to see through the cool mask of indifference Prince Aemond wears. Unlike Jacaerys, his singular lilac eye had been busy flicking all about the space, though he stood stock still with a haughty manner about him, hands clasped behind his back. 

“‘Twas a fine journey, yes,” Aemond hums, looking first at Cregan and then to you; his gaze is piercing and you can’t help but wonder if the rumors among the smallfolk are true – that he’d replaced his lost eye with some sort of gemstone, “Vhagar and I were fortunate to not encounter… anything of note.”

Your eyes move quickly to Jacaerys, breaking from Aemond’s stare once you catch the pointed tone of his words, slicing through the air like daggers. His jaw clenches, though only for a second, as you silently pray that this does not end in the two men coming to blows, or worse. 

“My journey was quite pleasant, my Lord Stark, thank you,” a small part of you is impressed that he seems determined not to let his emotions run amuck. He steps forward and pulls a rolled piece of parchment from the inner pocket of the thick, fur-lined cloak he wears, “I come with a message from my mother, the Queen.”

Beside him, Aemond quickly steps forward as well, producing a similar scroll, close enough to you that you’re able to just make out an image of House Targaryen’s three-headed dragon embossed on the golden wax seal. “And I come bearing a message from King Aegon, Second of His Name,” he pauses, looking between you and Cregan, glancing almost imperceptibly toward Prince Jacaerys, “Who currently sits the Iron Throne.”

“Usurper,” Jacaerys mutters under his breath, nose twitching in annoyance.

“Say that again,” Aemond’s voice is low as he whips around to face Jacaerys, all but shoving the scroll he brought into your hands. 

“That is my mother’s throne,” the brunette replies, simmering with a barely contained rage as he hands over Rhaenyra’s terms to Cregan in a similar manner, “Your drunken fool of a brother has no right to it.”

Your heart thrums in your chest as they stare one another down, the hostility between them seems to suck all the air from the room and bathe it in a silence you’ve only ever felt in the crypts. 

“And who would bend the knee for a whore with bastard heirs, nephew?” Aemond’s footfalls echo about the hall as he stalks around the other prince, circling him with a goading smirk, “She could not honor the oaths made to her husband, I shudder to think what would become of her promises to the realm.”

Your eyes widen and a gasp is wrenched from your throat when Jacaerys whirls around with a snarl and the sound of metal-on-metal grates through the air as both men unsheath decorated daggers from their belts; they stumble a few steps back, chests heaving as they each wait for the other to make the first move. 

“Do it,” Aemond taunts, lips twisted into a wicked smile while he and Jacaerys circle one another. Raising a hand, he pulls the black leather eyepatch from his face and tosses it to the floor, clearly relishing the way the other prince falters at the sight of his uncovered face. The deep blue sapphire he reveals gleams in the light from the fire, the sight of it makes your breath hitch, “Finish what your bastard brother started, go on.”

“Cease this!” Cregan shouts, voice firm, though he may as well not have spoken at all for all the good it does – each man only sparing him a glance. 

“I did not come to fight you,” the brunette huffs, scowling at his uncle while keeping a firm grip on the hilt of his dagger.

“No?” Aemond questions sardonically, “You’ve no wish to prove your might, hm? To show the realm how strong you are?”

The remark sounds like any other taunt to you, yet something about it seems to make the fire simmering within Jacaerys blaze closer to the surface – too close. You can see it coming before it happens from the way he tenses, from the miniscule twitch of his hand.

Acting quickly, you lunge for the great longsword strapped to your brother’s back and unsheath it without a second thought. Cregan reacts just as swiftly and clambers for you when you turn on your heel and rush over to where the two men glower at one another. From the corner of your eye, you see Jacaerys lunge forward but you cut off his movement as you swing Ice over your head. 

Metal crashes against metal, filling the hall with a shrill clang, before the great sword slams against the stone floor with a cacophonous din. Everything comes to a sudden halt as the loud noise sends a shock through the hall. 

“Enough!” The word leaves your lips as a snarl while you stare between the two men, nose twitching in annoyance, “How dare you sully our home with such feckless, asinine bickering!” 

Each of the princes sheaths his dagger in silence, though you hold the sword between them still, the tip of it digging into the stone as you keep hold of the pommel. “I’ve no doubt that were those creatures outside to engage like this that they could easily rip Winterfell to pieces, stone by stone, and yet they remain peaceful! Tell me, do you have baser morals than that of a beast?” Your voice is low as you speak, every ounce of patience you had for this idiotic farce wrung from you, “Is this the kind of man House Targaryen sets upon the realm?” 

“Apologies, my lady… my lord,” Jacaerys murmurs, glancing between you and Cregan before quickly staring down at the floor, his jaw set. 

You give him a curt nod before training your eyes on the silver-haired prince and narrowing them expectantly; he holds your gaze for only a second before looking off into the fire with a sigh, “Apologies.” 

Cregan reaches for the sword again and this time you relinquish it without a fight, turning your attention back to the two scrolls abandoned on the longtable – one carrying a gold seal, the other a black one, both bearing the three-headed dragon emblem.

Your brother sighs behind you and you can practically feel him throwing an icy glance at the two men before he joins you at the table, leaning back against the edge of it and crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

“We will hear your terms,” he starts, ignoring the way your head whips around to face him, “As is our sworn duty, but there will be no violence in these halls.”

“No.”

“Sister –”

“Not tonight,” you shake your head firmly, glancing over your shoulder at the princes before leaning closer to Cregan, voice low enough that it doesn’t carry in through the hall, “‘Tis late and they are on edge as is. Any negotiations will not go peacefully tonight.”

He turns his head toward you with a soft sigh; you tilt your head just slightly when your eyes meet, communicating silently, with only a look, as you have since the two of you were small. 

“Please,” you think, your gaze flicking between his blue eyes, lips set in a firm line, “Listen to me, just this once.”

Finally, after a long moment, he simply nods and looks back at the two men still standing in the hall, looking pointedly away from each other now. 

“We will hear your terms in the morning,” you announce, turning to face them, your expression set and neutral, “The hour is late and I imagine the two of you are tired from your travels, the –”

“Lady Stark,” Aemond starts, stepping forward, jaw clenched with barely contained annoyance, “W–”

“We will hear your terms in the morning and that is final, my prince,” you repeat, enunciating each word firmly, leaving no room for whatever argument he was intending to make. You glance between the two men again, watching as he gives a polite, stiff nod. 

Sighing tiredly, you give Cregan one last withering look before turning on your heel. “The servants will show you to your quarters,” you call over your shoulder, grabbing the gold sealed scroll from the longtable on your way to the doors without sparing the men another look. 

By the grace of the Gods, you manage to have a few peaceful hours to yourself. The castle remains quiet, save for the usual bustling of various servants and guards. The crackling of the small hearth in your chambers is the only sound that accompanies you while you read over the terms Prince Aemond brought with him, which were fairly generous, all things considered. 

Only one point gave you pause, perhaps King Aegon’s greatest gift – the offer of his brother’s hand. You wrinkle your nose in disgust when you read over that bit, although you had expected it. It’s no secret that you, Winterfell’s greatest prize as you’d been told time and time again since you were old enough to even somewhat comprehend the idea of marriage, are unclaimed. Of course the Greens would exploit that, the Blacks probably did as well.

Of course any other weaker Lady would take the offer. 

Unconsciously, you clench your jaw as you gaze into the fire, watching the flames dance while you think over the terms set before you, etched cleanly on the parchment. You get up from your place at the desk to go see if Cregan has finished reading over Rhaenyra’s terms, quite curious to see what it is she’s offering up. 

“Gods!” You exclaim when a sudden knock at your chamber door cuts through the peaceful silence of the night, startles you enough that you grab at the edge of your desk to keep the bottle of ink there from spilling. Corking it, you let out an annoyed little grumble as you stand.

“Enter!” You call out, smoothing out the silken, fur lined fabric of your evening robes, the soft blue color sparkling like seafoam in the light from the fire. Your brows pinch together in equal parts annoyance and intrigue as a certain white-haired prince saunters through the door, his lips set together in a firm line, as if deep in thought. 

“Prince Aemond,” you huff, bristling when he closes the door behind him, “The hour is quite late, surely whatever you’ve come for can wait until the morning.”

He pauses at that, not moving from his place in the entryway. Confusion wells up within you when he doesn’t meet your gaze, his lilac eye blinking as his lips open just slightly – something clearly weighs quite heavily on his mind. 

“I apologize for the late hour, my Lady,” he murmurs, finally looking up as he takes a few steps into your chambers, arms clasped behind his back, “But I do not think the matter can wait until morning, no. I don’t believe that would be wise.”

“Speak, then,” you nod with a sigh, resting against the arm of a small sofa by the fire. You try your best to hide your annoyance, feeling certain that whatever the Prince had come to you with is not nearly as serious as he seems to believe.

Aemond remains quiet for a few seconds more and you can practically see the wheels turning in his brain, something brewing just below the surface. “I… Did you intend to make a fool of me, Lady Stark?”

“What?”

“I’m aware that my coming, and that of my nephew, were… sudden,” he continues, leaving you utterly perplexed, which only makes you clench your jaw, already exasperated at this entire exchange, “But, had you and Lord Cregan made it clear that you had already come to an agreement, I could’ve left — been on my way to the Stormlands and saved us all the trouble.” 

“Seven Hells, why must he speak in riddles,” you think, squeezing your eyes shut and pinching your brow tiredly. 

“Prince Aemond, perhaps I could be of some help if you spoke your concerns more plainly,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and peering at him once more, “However, I can assure you that Cregan and I have decided nothing. He and I have planned to take the evening to read over yours and Prince Jacaerys’s terms, which we will discuss in the morning.” 

“Mm, then am I to believe that your lord brother plots without your knowledge, my Lady? I find that hard to believe.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Aemond paces, smirking as he traipses back and forth before you, acting like he can see clearly through some false plot you’ve set… if only you’d set one at all. 

“I overheard them, Cregan and Jace, in the library — I cannot seem to find sleep and thus was wandering the halls,” he murmurs, quickly explaining his actions before you have time to ask, “Surely you’re aware that your brother intends to support my traitorous sister.” 

His words should come as a shock, that Cregan would do something like this behind your back, and yet you can’t find it within yourself to be truly surprised. Ever since he’d become Warden of the North, he’d become… hardened, even to you. Before, he would’ve never dared do this, would’ve considered your thoughts as carefully as his own, but not anymore. 

“My brother may be decided,” you start, voice clipped, “But I have yet to come to a decision.” 

The prince hums yet again, something he seems to do often much to your great displeasure. He studies you for a moment, lilac eye never wavering from yours, before looking away with a tsk. “And yet, from what I overheard, he seems quite convinced that you have.” 

You scoff at that and push yourself off the arm of the sofa, placing your hands on your hips as you blink at him for a moment while the corners of your lips twitch with the threat of a smirk, “I must confess, my Prince, but I do not know how to proceed. We seem to be at an impasse – I assure you of one thing and yet you cling to your belief in another.”

“So it would seem.”

His calm reply does nothing to lessen your irritation and your chest heaves with a sigh, jaw clenching. “Well, then,” you huff, no longer patient enough to keep the frustration out of your tone, “What would you have me do, hm?”

“Perhaps,” your eyes narrow at the indifference with which he speaks – an act, you’re sure of it, “It would bring me some comfort if we could come to some… agreement of our own. As your brother and my nephew seem so eager to do.”

“As I’ve said, I do not wish to discuss the matter further. ‘Tis late, my Prince, and I see no point in staying up half the night to do something that can be accomplished just as well tomorrow.”

“Mm,” he hums, pacing around you and further into your chambers, to your great annoyance. You turn, watching him as he saunters through the space, acting as if it’s his own, only to come to a stop beside your desk. 

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips just as he feigns surprise at seeing the scroll he’d brought with him unfurled over the wooden surface, “But, you have read the king’s terms, no? Surely discussing them would not take long.”

“Discussing them, no,” you acquiesce, gritting your teeth, “My thoughts of accepting them, on the other hand…”

You can tell he’s only half-listening as you speak, focused on reading over the notes you’d scrawled in the margins of the document – questions of various assurances and the like… aside from one particular line which you’d hastily crossed through. A shiver goes down your spine when his eye trails up from the parchment to once again meet yours, darkened with some new sense of resolve.

“You are aware that the crown has the ability to strip you and Lord Cregan of your titles, yes? Especially if I were to inform my council of your plot against me…”

Your heart quickens at his warning, thumping meanly in your chest while you try to process his words. “All this over a simple marriage offer?” You think as your brows pinch together in a scowl; you do not take kindly to such threats.

“Over my brother’s right to the throne…,” Aemond murmurs and it’s only then you realize you must’ve spoken aloud, not hearing your own words due to the turmoil in your head, the rush of blood in your ears, “Over my family’s safety, yes. I would be willing to dole out harsher reminders as well, if need be.” 

“You must understand, this is not a slight against you, nor your council,” fire rages within you as the winds outside pick up, howling throughout the castle, “I have no want to be bound to anyone –”

“Think of the station you’d have,” he cuts you off, determination seeming to well up within him the same way it does you; each of you is ready for a fight, “The power you could wield in King’s Landing, everything you could do to benefit –”

“You could not drag me from the North kicking and screaming, I have no desire to go –”

“My Lady, you are intelligent, ‘tis plain to see,” he murmurs lowly, indignation finally managing to bleed through his placid exterior while he paces about, circling you just as he did Prince Jacaerys, “Surely you realize that your talents will be wasted here, squandered to the cold, frozen waste –”

“Do you think insulting my home is the way to win me over, my Prince?”

“Mm,” his dismissive hum alights a spark within you and your hands curl to fists at your side, “No, though I suspect flattery would do no good either.”

His words are sharp, spoken with the sole purpose of cutting into you, yet all they draw is an angry huff. You can see his eye narrow in your periphery, can feel him studying you, no doubt trying to find a way to make you crack. 

A part of you hopes he’ll succeed. 

“So, you see, I’ve no other choice than to resort to threats,” he hums, long silken hair swaying over his shoulders as he finally comes to a stop before you, close enough that you’re forced to raise your chin to maintain eye contact. 

“Should you be fool enough to try, you will not succeed in taking the North, my Prince,” you say softly, a quiet calm blanketing your fury just as snow blankets the fields outside, “Even Aegon the Conqueror could not, surely you know that.” 

Something dangerous flashes in his eye at that and your eyes narrow with the knowledge that you’ve crossed some invisible boundary, gone a step too far. 

He stays quiet for a moment, just long enough for the eye of the storm within you to pass, for the maelstrom to be ignited once more. 

“Surely you’ve heard tale of the wrath the Conqueror brought upon Harrenhal, Lady Stark,” his voice is low when he finally speaks, though there is no softness to it; only a harshness, a finality, that would surely make anyone else grovel for forgiveness at his feet, “Reduced to a pile of ash and molten stone… even now, more than a century later, it stands as a ruin – a cursed place…”

Your jaw clenches tightly at his words, eyes narrowing as you stare into his own as if challenging him to say it, to finish his threat.

“It would be quite a shame if that same doom was brought to Winterf–”

Aemond lets out a grunt when his back thuds against the stone wall behind him, gasping and caught off guard by your sudden advance. 

“Have you no shame?” Your words are biting as you snap at him; fury pours off of you in waves, your entire being concentrated down into rows of gnashing teeth, “You come into my home, unbidden. You threaten to spill blood in my hall, you feel entitled to my time and my space and my thoughts and my hand, all unbidden.”

For the first time all evening, the prince seems to have no response, not even a condescending hum. He stands frozen on the spot, held against the wall by your forearm pinned across his chest. The air feels like it evaporates from the room, leaving the two of you in some sort of bubble where the only sound is Aemond’s harsh pants. You see his angular nose twitch and his lips press firmly together as a sneer forms on his pale face. 

There’s a cruel, almost savage, gleam in his eye that should scare you, that maybe actually would, were it not for the soft pink flush spilling across his cheeks and an undercurrent of something resembling shame in his gaze – the expression of a child being scolded by a parent, caught doing something they shouldn’t. 

The strangeness of it brings you to heel for a second, only for the anger within you to flare up once more when he starts to open his mouth, starts to push himself off of the cool stone at his back. 

“Don’t,” you huff, narrowing your eyes and pressing back against his chest. A bitter laugh bubbles up from your throat as you stare at him, surprised once more when he quickly gives in and lets you push him back, “I bet you’re quite used to getting your way, hm? You’re a prince of the realm, of course you are.”

With each passing second, your ire for him seems to be slowly replaced by a growing curiosity — Why isn’t he fighting back? What kind of game is he playing at? 

“Entitled prince,” your heart quickens when his breaths start coming more harshly and his chest heaves against beneath your arm, “You hold no power here.” 

Aemond’s nostrils flare and his lilac eye narrows, just as fiery and intimidating as before. Your lips part when his hands come to rest on your waist, far too delicately for the situation. 

“Might I remind you,” he mutters, a rumble to his voice that hadn’t been there before, “That the crown—“

“The crown, the crown, the crown,” you lean in, nearly on your tiptoes, just a hair’s breadth away from touching your nose to his. Without considering the movement, your free hand wraps itself around his pale neck, not squeezing but merely resting there, pressing against his Adam’s apple — a reminder for him to remain silent, “Why is it that you lean so heavily on something you do not even have, my Prince?” 

You can feel him swallow against the palm of your hand, once again not fighting back. Though, it’s only when you meet his half-lidded eye and see that heady, shameful spark hiding there does the truth finally hit you. 

“Gods, he likes this,” your eyes widen ever so slightly at the realization, such a mighty, fearsome prince and yet he’s all but melting under your touch. The feeling is rather intoxicating and you feel a rush of power flow through you, making the hair at the nape of your neck stand on end. 

“I don’t see a crown on your pretty head,” you continue leaning into the feeling, intending on leveraging his submission to whatever extent you can, “Doesn’t that bother you, Aemond? Hm? Being reduced to the second son when you could’ve been so much more…”

“V-Vhagar could—“

“Vhagar could do nothing,” your fist tightens around the column of his throat as you press yourself more tightly against him, the thin fabric of your evening robe the only thing separating you from the warm black leather of his tunic, “Not if I take my brother’s sword and go slit her great belly myself.” 

He balks at that, brows furrowing as he stares at you — half in fury, half in wonder. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off again, not interested in hearing another half-baked threat. 

“Does it bother you that I don’t find you the least bit intimidating?” You question, narrowing your eyes at him. 

A grin blooms on your lips when he just barely shakes his head, the movement so subtle and so quick that you hardly catch it — though it sends lightning down your spine all the same.

“No? It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Again, he shakes his head, more firmly this time; his throat bobs beneath your grip, “Do you like it? That you can’t scare me?” 

He nods — not good enough. 

“Say it,” you command, tightening your grip on his neck once more. 

“I… I like it…,” he answers after a long moment, his voice hardly a whisper.

“Good boy.” 

He whimpers, the small sound vibrates against your hand. A shock goes through you and before you can fully register what you’re doing, you release his chest and neck and haul him toward your bed — that barely there whine enough to ignite a fire in your belly. 

You can see the confusion written plainly on his face when you sit on the edge of your mattress and gaze up at him expectantly, you try not to focus on the little flip your heart does at the fact that he’d followed you so willingly, like a little puppy. 

“Kneel,” you command, nearly giddy when he actually does, actually sinks to his knees before you. You lean forward and quickly tug off his eyepatch, eager to see the sapphire once more, and again, you’re shocked when he doesn’t put up a fight. 

Tossing the small scrap of leather to the side, you stop for a moment and admire the glimmering gemstone, even admiring the long, thin scar that adorns his otherwise flawless face. 

“You’ve been a thorn in my side all evening,” your fingers card through his hair while you speak, your voice low, hardly louder than the crackle of the logs in the fire, “Starting fights, coming to my chambers in the middle of the night for matters I said I would not be discussing, talking back… and I can think of much better uses for this mouth.”

Aemond’s breath hitches when you cup his jaw and skim a thumb over his bottom lip, grinning when he just barely follows your touch. With your free hand, you tug your robe open at the slit going up your leg, just enough to show him you’re bare beneath it.

“If… if I do this, you’ll back Aegon?” He rasps, staring up at you from his place on the floor as his hands come to rest gingerly on your thighs, “You’ll agree to his terms?”

“Of course…”

“… All of his terms?”

“All of them,” you echo breathily, sighing softly when he leans in and kisses the top of one knee, a smug grin on his lips despite the situation. 

If only he didn’t make this so easy. 

“Enough talking,” you grab at his pale hair and shamelessly pull him to where you need him, smirking at the little gasp that leaves his lips once he’s face to face with your center, “Show me what it is I’ve agreed to.”

For all his faults, Aemond doesn’t make you wait and quickly dives in — licking a solid line up the middle of your folds, groaning as he goes. His hands tighten around your thighs and he eagerly spreads them wider, shifting on the floor until he’s pressed closer to you. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” You gasp, leaning back on an elbow, though you keep a grip on his hair and use it to drag him directly to your aching pearl, arching your back when he hungrily suckles at it. His eagerness makes the fire in your belly burn bright right away and you swallow thickly, battling against the dryness at the back of your throat. 

Aemond growls against you and dutifully licks over your bud, flicks his tongue against it again and again until your head spins. Your thighs tighten around his head but he’s quick to press against them once more and hold you open, fingers digging into your supple flesh. 

“Good boy,” you pant, relishing the way his eye rolls back. Biting at your bottom lip, you yank his hair once more — guiding him to your entrance. He catches on quickly and another almighty gasp is wrenched from your throat when he pushes his tongue inside you, making you shiver. 

“Seven Hells!” Your hips buck against his face of their own accord when his angular nose brushes against your pearl, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine. Your walls clench down around his tongue, pulling twin whines from the both of you. 

Knowing you won’t be able to hang on for much longer, you press his face against your core and rock your hips more earnestly against his face; your eyes nearly go cross when he groans deeply against you, squeezing at your thighs hard enough to surely leave behind bruises. 

“T-That’s it, that’s it,” you chant, chest heaving. It feels as if lava flows through your veins each time he presses his tongue against you, the fire inside you burning brighter by the moment. 

Suddenly, he moves on his own accord and nips softly at your pearl before suckling at it once more. The sudden turn of events causes you to snap and finally slip over the edge, making fireworks explode behind your eyelids. 

“A-Aemond, Gods!” You cry, harshly tugging at his hair, nearly ripping it from its roots as pleasure beats against you in waves. You’re so lost within yourself that you hardly hear him growl against you, low and heady. 

You shove him away after a moment when his touches begin to border on overstimulation and lie panting on the bed, dropping to your back against the warm blankets and staring, half-lidded, at the ceiling. 

You can hear the shuffle of his clothes as he pushes himself up off the floor but you don’t bother sitting up, limp still from your peak. It’s not until he speaks that you finally look up. 

“I take it I’ve fully persuaded you, then?” He hums, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Leaning up on your elbows once more, you look him over — taking in the flush on his cheeks, the way his chest thrums under the dark leather of his tunic, the evidence of his arousal pressing tightly against the ties of his trousers. 

Gods, what a desperate thing — wanting so badly for validation.

“Well, I’ll still need to read over Rhaenyra’s terms…”

“But —“

“But nothing,” you snap, sitting up once more on the edge of the bed, “I must at least operate under the pretense of being fair, no? Cregan will know if I don’t come to collect the papers your nephew brought.” 

Aemond nods stiffly, lips set in a thin line as he looks you over. Your heart speeds up just slightly when his lilac eye pauses at your chest, darkening at the way your robe has loosened, showcasing your cleavage. 

“True,” he acquiesces, brushing a lock of hair from your shoulder, “It would be smartest for us to be careful now…” 

He leans down, intending to kiss your cheek, perhaps even your lips or neck, but you put a hand up to stop him — shaking your head with a small smirk and a raised brow. 

“That’ll be all.” 

His brows furrow at your words, eye searching your face, “I thought —“

“I need to rest,” you cut him off, nodding to the door, “Goodnight, my Prince. I hope sleep finally finds you.” 

“I…” he starts, staring at you for a second, absolutely crestfallen, before simply nodding. “Lady Stark,” he mumbles, finally turning and seeing himself out, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Poor thing,” you think with a sigh as soon as your door shuts behind him, “He has no business here.” 

You’re hit with a wave of deja vu as you take your place next to Cregan, each of you standing before the long table at the head of the Great Hall. Once again, the place is as silent as a crypt, the only sound being the steady crackle of the fireplace. 

You stare straight ahead, focusing intently on the opposite wall while your brother addresses the two princes — exchanging morning pleasantries and worried smiles. Throughout his small speech, you can practically feel Aemond’s gaze on you, like he’s determined to sear a hole straight through you. 

“I have read your terms carefully, both of them,” Cregan states, each of the scrolls laid out on the table behind you, “And I propose that House Stark honor will keep faith with its alliance to Lady Rhaenys, in memory of the oath we once swore to King Viserys.” 

“Very well,” Prince Jacaerys nods, giving your brother a small, polite smile and grateful nod. 

“And what say you, my Lady?” Aemond cuts in, determined to force your hand, for you to make good on your assurances from last night. 

The desperation in his eye almost makes you feel bad.

With a sigh, you finally look up at him for the first time all morning, immediately noting the dark circles beneath his eye. Breaking from his intense, nearly pleading gaze, you look toward Prince Jacaerys with a small smile.

“I’m afraid I must agree with my dear brother,” your voice is cold, emotionless as it rings throughout the stony room, “House Stark will not be breaking its oath today.” 

Aemond lets out a sharp, stuttering breath, as if he’d been punched in the gut and his shoulders sag in defeat. 

And you almost feel bad, only for a moment. 

Almost.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

[quiddling]

Do you have any more lore about your Saera son targ oc? 😊

My sweet sweet boy.... The Bastard of Volantis !!! I love this guy sm so I do actually have a lot... and i realise now I haven't said anything about him other than he is Saera's son on tumblr before so i'm going to ramble on and on after the break heheh [:<

Aenor Targaryen, an infamous natural son of Princess Saera Targaryen. His father's identity remained an enduring mystery. Aenor was born in 98 AC and raised in the Free City of Volantis, where his mother ruled as proprietor over a famed pleasure house. Though born bastard, Aenor inherited the distinctive Valyrian features of House Targaryen - pale silver-blonde hair and deep purple eyes. Aenor himself made no public assertions for the crown much like his mother, though he took pride in his dragonblood heritage.

He is an irreverent and cocksure young man who revelled in the luxurious vices of the Volantene lifestyle. From a young age, Aenor displayed a keen intellect and a natural charisma that set him apart. He inherited his mother's sharp wit and political acumen, quickly learning to navigate the complex social dynamics of Volantis' upper echelons. Despite his bastard status, Aenor carries himself with the confidence and poise befitting his Targaryen heritage.

Aenor's relationship with his mother, is one of the defining aspects of his character. Despite the unconventional nature of their lives, Aenor loves his mother dearly and would defend her with his life if necessary.

As a boy, Aenor would often sit at his mother's feet, enraptured by her tales of dragons and the legendary Dragonpit of King's Landing. Saera's stories painted vivid pictures of scaled behemoths soaring through the skies, their roars echoing across the realm. These tales instilled in Aenor a lifelong fascination with dragons and a secret longing to one day see one with his own eyes.

Occasionally, in rare moments of nostalgia or vulnerability, Saera would share glimpses of her life as a princess in the Red Keep. These stories were always tinged with a mixture of fondness and bitterness, revealing the complex emotions she still harboured towards her past. Aenor learnt to treasure these rare insights into his mother's former life, understanding the trust she placed in him by sharing them.

However, Saera's recollections of her father, King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, were infrequent and laden with resentment. The lingering pain from their estrangement was evident whenever she spoke of him. This unresolved conflict between Saera and Jaehaerys left a lasting impact on Aenor, shaping his own complicated feelings towards his heritage and the idea of family loyalty.

Through his mother's stories and silences alike, Aenor developed a nuanced understanding of power, family, and the weight of the Targaryen name. This understanding would come to influence his own ambitions and his approach to navigating the complex world of politics and personal relationships in Volantis and beyond.

I'm still not 100% sure on most of this part of his lore i just wanted my sweet boy to have a dragon and see the rest of the world....but regardless of his illegitimate status, Aenor managed to claim a wild dragon in Essos. The beast, which Aenor named Naerion, was described as being a medium-sized dragon with brilliant orange scales that covered most of his body, while his underbelly and wing membranes were described as pale striking gold. His distinctive colouration made him easily identifiable in the skies, earning him the moniker "the Sunset Wyrm" among soldiers and smallfolk alike. His wings, when spread, cast a shadow the colour of sunset. During the Dance of the Dragons, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, on behalf of his mother Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, sought to bolster the blacks' forces with additional dragonriders. Jacaerys dispatched envoys to Volantis, seeking out the Targaryen Bastard. He was initially reluctant to involve himself in Westerosi affairs. However, the promise of legitimisation and lands upon Rhaenyra's victory swayed Aenor and he agreed to cross the Narrow Sea with Naerion.

[tyrantisterror]

No Small Feat Art Pt. 9 - The Bonus Bosses

By request, I’m gonna show off some of the artwork for No Small Feat, a Midgaheim story my friends and I told through the TTRPG system Fabula Ultima. I drew a lot of characters and monsters for it, and my friends - in particular, @dragonzzilla, @scatha5, and @dinosaurana - helped line and color them so we’d have cute little sprites to use on our online battlemaps, which really helped sell the whole “we’re playing an oldschool turn based RPG” vibe that Fabula Ultima’s system is going for.

Before we cover the last two arcs, we're going to look at the Bonus Bosses - optional encounters I placed in the game to give my characters more of a challenge and some additional story if they so desired, which they did!

Bleak Annis played an important role in starting the story, and our heroes realized that if they wanted to truly know what was going on with both the greater conflict and their own personal arcs, they'd have to meet with her. That was easier said than done, though, as before they could find Bleak Annis, they would have to prove their worth to the wicked witch's coven. So they sought out Peg Prowler, Nelly Longarms, and Jenny Greenteeth, three other famous witches from British folklore who are in the same league as Bleak Annis herself.

During their first trip into Fairyland, our heroes stumbled upon a huge and terrifying prison. Locked inside was a Fomorian, a fairy being of such terrible arcane power that its very presence could corrode reality should it escape Fairyland. Worse, the Fomorian's prison was weakening, and should it break free, the gang would have a much worse problem to deal with than the succession crisis and its supernatural side effects that they were already struggling to end. So, like good RPG players, they level grinded by playing the main plot a bit, then went back and killed the fucker when they had enough levels and endgame-worthy gear to do so without too much fuss.

The next bonus boss they saved for later was Katastrophi, a mountain ogre who Prince Goligaunt claimed was his aunt (though perhaps that was more in an honorary sense than a biological). She scrapped with them for a bit to wake herself up fully, then let our heroes go on friendly terms before climbing up the tower to give her punk nephew a good talking to.

Then our heroes went off to chase a sidequest they'd been given a while ago, seeking out the Elemental Masters of the mortal plane: the Royal Ruhk, an enormous eagle who displayed supreme mastery of wind magic; the Sharp Humped Behemoth, a mighty beast who was unparalleled in its domination of earth magic; the Jasconius, a colossal leviathan whose rule over water magic is unquestioned; and the Great Red Dragon, a master of all four elements to be sure, but whose supremacy over Fire magic was mightiest of all. The four masters put our heroes to the test, and rewarded them with materials to make some masterwork armor and weapons to take them through their final arcs of the story. But there was one more bonus boss, the master beyond masters.

The final master and bonus boss was none other than Death Himself - well, a death at least, and specifically the one who had acted as Guard Father and benefactor of Kaboldt von Hubert's grandfather. Foreshadowed in arc 2, Death made his proper appearance much later, and made sure our heroes were truly ready to stop Maelys and reforge the crown of Engelsex.

[horizon-verizon]

Hi! I love your takes and I'm curious to know your opinion on the (extremely popular) take that Daemon's final arc was about him "finding happiness/true love with Nettles and escaping the clutches of evil queen Rhaenyra"? I always found it extremely mysoginistic but it's the most common interpretation. :(

I think it's bullshit and I say why/how in many "#nettles" or "#daemon and nettles" posts. You can start HERE. Apart from that, no one is surviving a drop like that.

Yes that fantasy is very sexist, even when it tries to make as if it's complimentary towards Nettles or it's supposed to be abt hating the white women who hates on the Black girl. Why do you want a 50 yr old man to be with a 17 yr old? Isn't that more extreme than the ship many of the same "dettles" shippers hate in Daemyra, who have a 14/15/16 age gap between them in stead of dettles' 30+? But more than that, it is totally counter to what Nettles does bring to the story as a fire-goddess-Dany-parallel/contextualizing agent...Daemon cannot be Nettles' "consort" and a fire goddess simultaneously when Nettles' status as a fire goddess that started a fire religion in Westeros if the Rogue Prince already put his primary loyalties to Rhaenyra when he SACRIFICED HIS HEALTH AND WELLBEING, IF NOT HIS VERY LIFE, when he confronted Aemond at the Gods Eye knowing he would--not just "could"--die from said confrontation. Why would Daemon stick around to try to kill Aemond and tell Nettles to just run away instead of following her right then and there is he actually prioritized Nettles alone?! And even IF he thought he'd live by the end, he still sacrificed, as alI said, his wellbeing bc such an encounter would still have disabled him as much and even worse than Aegon at Rook's Rest!

How did we not learn from Aegon--the guy who was even helped & accompanied by the same behemoth and her rider/his brother (2v1) but STILL got roasted and most of his bones broken anyway?!--and Rhaenys--the sole fighter against 2 dragons but who died in flames, her burnt corpse found? Do you really think that the singular (wordplay) Daemon was going to fare better as to survive?! When Aemond is not "distracted"?! *sigh*

[nastasya--filippovna]

WHO IS CROWLEY AFTER THE FALL (PART2)

Here it is finally.

So what is the Leviathan.

In mythology and theology the Leviathan is a sea-serpent and is mentioned in several books of the Hebrew Bible such as the Book of Job and Book Isaiah and Book of Enoch. The Leviathan of the Book of Job is a reflection of the older Canaanite Lotan, a primeval monster defeated by the god Baal Hadad. Parallels to the role of Mesopotamian Tiamat defeated by Marduk have long been drawn in comparative mythology, as have been wider comparisons to dragon and world serpent narratives such as Indra slaying Vrtra or Thor slaying Jörmungandr.

Once again we see the pattern of Biblical creatures being “inspired” from pagan ones.

Thomas Aquinas described Leviathan as the demon of envy, first in punishing the corresponding sinners. Peter Binsfeld likewise classified Leviathan as the demon of envy, as one of the seven Princes of Hell corresponding to the seven deadly sins. Leviathan became associated with, and may originally have been referred to by, the visual motif of the Hellmouth, a monstrous animal into whose mouth the damned disappear at the Last Judgment, found in Anglo-Saxon art from about 800, and later all over Europe.

In the Book of Enoch, The Leviathan is a female giant chaos serpent that lives deep in the ocean, while her mate, Behemoth, is a male giant chaos beast (based off of a hippopotamus or water-ox) who lives in the mythical desert of Duidain, East of Eden.

Ring any bells. Chaos mongering (fomenting), ox, eastern gate of eden…. 

The Hebrew word that translates to Leviathan (Livyatan) appears six times in the Old Testament. One of them is in Job 41. The word is derived from the root Iwy or ‘ twist, coil’ and means ‘the sinuous one.’ So I think we can establish that this creature is at least indicated to be snake-like. Scholars trace the etymology of whale and crocodile 

In the Book of Isaiah it is mentioned that the beast will rise from the water and will be defeated by God on the Last Day. However, quite interestingly nowhere in the Old Testament is the Leviathan written as evil. Only later scholars have equated it with the devil so that the battle between God and Chaos can be interpreted as the battle between God and the Devil.

Now let’s make this more interesting: The Gnostic sect venerate the biblical serpent of the Garden of Eden as a symbol of wisdom, which the malevolent Demiurge tried to hide from Adam and Eve. They identify the Leviathan as the serpent of Eden and in this belief system the Leviathan appears as an Ouroboros, separating the divine realm from humanity by enveloping or permeating the material world.

I mean I don’t even need to say anything further.  

And he does show up in GO Season 2. The matchbox.

Here 

When did this happen, I wonder……hmmmmmm

Oh YES!

Crowley wearing Aziraphale’s face

     

Here’s the rest of the passage from Job

1 Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?

2 Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?

3 Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?

4 Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?

5 Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

6 Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?

7 Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?

8 Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.

9 Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

10 None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

11 Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

12 I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.

13 Who can discover the face of his garment? (penetrate his coat of armor)  or who can come to him with his double bridle?

14 Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.

15 His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.

16 One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.

17 They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered.

18 By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

19 Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.

20 Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.

21 His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.

22 In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him.

23 The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved.

24 His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.

25 When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves.

26 The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.

27 He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.

28 The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.

29 Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.

30 Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire.

31 He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.

32 He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.

33 Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.

34 He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.

The Leviathan is a magnificent creature. And the very fact that God goes to so much trouble to describe the magnanimity of this creature is to show what God has created and hence Her magnanimity must be even greater in comparison for the Creator is always superior to the Creation. And if God can so easily abuse and humiliate this beautiful monster, then God must be worshipped and feared.

Though to the unsuspecting eye these passages may ring no familiar bells, a closer look makes you realize how Crowley-coded they are. And to think that in a story where Neil has never witten or shown anything that wasn’t woven in finely with the characters, I alwsy wondered why he chose the Book of Job for the minisode when he could have included any other one.  

But it reminded me that Crowleys character is truly unrelenting. He’s a nether millstone. He won’t give up that easily. He absolutely won’t submit to anyone, and he’s shown time and time again that his vociferous litanies about running away disappear as soon as someone or something he cares about is in danger (i.e. Aziraphale). And the second coming will also threaten his creation (the universe). His refusal to submit to authority, the refusal to be subjugated is the reason he fell in the first place. And quite interestingly he doesn’t own Hell either. He resists that too. For him it’s not Heaven or Hell that matters but the resistance to Power.  

I also think it’s also fitting that the Leviathan is perceived to be a monster that must be slain or enslaved but in reality is another of God’s creations just like the sun and the stars and the rivers and the mountains.  

And it makes me think of how Crowley has always been labeled as evil because he fell. I think of how, at heart, he is truly gentle and kind, he’s a starmaker. But his fall, his appearance, his desire to be autonomous and his grey moral campus make him feared and a target. And that has made him the embodiment of chaos. His refusal to submit himself to the uniformity of both worlds, to the rules and guidelines that create this illusion of order sets him apart from them. He embraces the chaos that grayness offers, that being ‘human’ brings. And hence the final battle will be between God and chaos with God justifies as being the battle between good and evil because, well, he’s a demon.    

The Leviathan being historically associated with the sin of envy is again I think written into the plot very carefully. He is envious of humanity’s ability to question God, to have choices to not be doomed to heaven or hell for all eternity. He is envious of what Maggie and Nina have. He’s envious of what Beelz and Gabe have.

“I mean if Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together…..”

And then him rejecting Azirapahle’s offer— he has spent his life (a long, long life) rejecting power and authority. In his relationship with Aziraphale he found his sanctuary, a relation clean of power dynamics. Up till now they were both equal. But this new offer jeopardizes that.

And I love how his ego and pride come to play here. He would never accept being “second in command to anyone”. And his envy of how God’s mercy is free for some but wholly denied to him.

[krimsonkatt]

Elzakalas, Great God of Destruction

The lord of evil, the prince of darkness, the original archon, and the great god of destruction. Elzakalas was born as one of the twin children of Barbello the creator. While Mekala desired to create, Elzakalas desired only to destroy. When Mekala couldn't succeed to create life on her own, she stole flesh from her brother while he was sleeping to create "flesh machines" the first forms of life. These flesh machines include Nargi, the original seraphim and queen of all dragons, and the 6 Cherubim, the divine beasts. The cherubim included Behemoth the Beast Cherub, Zhu the Avian Cherub, Samael the Reptite Cherub, Leviathan the Aquarian Cherub, Keru the Frog Cherub, and Abaddon the Insectoid Cherub. Elzakals objected to this act of creation using his own flesh, and thus placed a curse on all flesh, the curse of S.K.I.N., Sin of Kalas Incarnate Nature. This curse caused all who possessed flesh to be conditioned to their own self-destruction, to be conditioned to inherent evil and wickedness, to commit evil through their own selfishness and hatred. This curse is the origin of all evil, and the only way to become free of the eternal torment is to pull off your skin, cleanse yourself of the Glebolesh Layer, and unlock your TRUE SKIN. The true flesh within, the reflection of the soulscape.

Long ago Elzakalas warred against Mekala over the fate of the universe, to order the universe to darkness or light. Mekala won this battle and imprisoned Elzakalas within the farplane, the realm beyond reality. However, due to the light spirits of Galaxio's overuse of magickal energy, or ether, the barrier between the farplane and the physical universe thinned until eventually Elzakalas was able to break free of the farplane and let loose a flood of CHAOTIC beings, the elder demons, along with him. Elzakals destroyed the world of Galaxio and set his sights on other spheres. However, it was at this moment that Barbello, the mother of all life, returned to seal Elzakalas away in a living seal, a hollow being called Terra, the guardian of the earth. The hollow darkness within Terra helped sealed away the lord of evil, and for around a million years there was peace in the cosmos.

However, over the countless years Elzakalas was able to exert more and more influence over Elzakalas until Elzakalas fully possessed Terra, turning Terra into the Demon King. 6 legendary heroes fought against the demon king led by a man named Kairos. After imprisoning the demon king in crystal within the sealed temple, Kairos was blessed by the goddess herself to become a transcendent being, transcending time and space to become the guardian of existence, a being that exists simultaneously across all times and possesses knowledge of all things.

1000 years later a cult of dragon slayers awakened Terra from his slumber, but with Kairos stuck in another dimension the heroes of that time had no idea that a greater evil was sealed within Terra and accidentally unsealed the lord of darkness Elzakalas. Elzakalas destroyed their world, but their world was temporarily recreated by the goddess as a reward for the heroes' bravery. Elzakalas was then sealed within that world, Olgard, which became known as the "Temporal Wastes."

However, now free, Elzakalas began his long-standing plan to ascend to a higher plane of existence and become a celestial being, a being that has transcended not only space and time, but reality itself. The first step of his plan involved a complex series of events to break his seal in the Temporal Wastes. To do this over a period of a million years he leaked forth his evil energy from within his seal which eventually condensed in the form of a portly man named Thaddeus Blinn who had dark, mysterious powers.

Thaddeus planned to open the Oblivion Gate to gain unlimited power, and possessed Zero Enigma in order to accomplish said goal. Meanwhile, seeing the threat of Blinnadeus, Thaddeus Blinn's true form, the direct incarnation of Elzakalas, the sefiros itself manifested a savior to destroy Elzakalas for good, the demiseraph, Ryuka Blazeblood. However, Blinnadeus knew of the secret of the universe, and used this forbidden knowledge to his advantage to trick the mysterious "puppetmaster" to make Ryuka break the golden seal, the seal blocking Blinnadeus from using his full powers, and upon Ryuka facing Blinnadeus the pig-like demon would ascend to a godly form that could truly match the power of the demiseraph, the "0th Archon", Tartarodeus. While Ryuka fought hard, he had not mastered his powers as the demiseraph and thus Tartarodeus was able to get the upper hand and cast "Astral Order: Destroy Universe" which as the title suggests destroyed the entire universe, or at least the current starsphere at the sacrifice of his own existence. The universe-destroying blast shattered the demiseraph's soul into 13 pieces which were flung to the newly birthed world of Zutara, prime of all spheres, the 52nd realm.

For Elzakalas, the problem of the demiseraph, a being created by the sefiros specifically to destroy him, was no more. However, Elzakalas still had to undo his seal so that it didn't take him millions of years and the gaining of godly relics to create a single archon. So, Elzakals once again manipulated the puppetmaster to get Setana, the next hero in line in the world of Anima, to open the door to the Temporal Wastes and break Elzakalas' seal. Setana was forced to do just that and Elzakalas once again destroyed the world. Now freed from his 3rd and final imprisonment, Elzakalas turned the world of anima into the world of darkness and began summoning his archons to inflict as much pain and suffering in the prime sphere Zutara so that Elzakalas could regain his full strength and ascend through the empyrean path, which was located directly above Zutara on the Tree of Sefiros.

Elzakalas used to be a human, but upon learning the forbidden truth of the nature of his reality he went mad. This was not helped by him being trapped in the darkness before time for trillions of years all alone. In the darkness he lost all his sense of self, his name, his face, his form, and everything that made him human in an eternity of isolation and loneliness. The only thing keeping him from fading into the darkness forever was his hatred of the one who created him and the entire world, the goddess Barbello, eventually emerging at the beginning of time as the dark god we know him as, Elzakalas, the Great God of Destruction.

Inspired by The Scarlet King and Yaldaboath from SCP Lore. The Satan of the Chronicles of Chronicles series and the overarching villain, but not the instigator, of the entire saga.

[emilystheories]

Amren is a dragon. 🐉

ACOTAR and Crescent City spoilers!

Given all the religious associations linked to Amren's character, many have theorised that she is a biblical angel. SJM herself even stated that this is true, confirming in an interview that she is an "Old Testament angel."

However, I do not believe that Amren is an archangel (the likes of which we see in Crescent City). Instead, I think Amren is a different sort of angel.

The Seraphim.

In ACOWAR, we learn that Amren chose her name; that there is a meaning behind it.

Amren is a derivation of the Hebrew name, Amram; the father of Moses.

In the ACOTAR series so far, there have already been a number of hints to Moses. We see this clearly in the text (for example, Prince Drakon parted the sea, just as Moses did).

In fact, SJM herself confirms that Prince Drakon and Miriyam's story was inspired by Exodus (the Old Testament book, which details Moses's leadership).

Prince Drakon and Miriyam are known as the Seraphim. They are the angels of the ACOTAR world.

In our own world, the Seraphim are Old Testament angels. According to the hierarchy of angels (although this can vary depending on the religion), the Seraphim are the highest rank. They are the mightiest, and most powerful angels in all creation.

Most importantly, the Seraphim are known as angels of fire. They are called the "burning ones."

Amren's true form was one of "pure light and fire," with wings of flame.

Amren is a Seraphim.

Even the grey of Amren's eyes are likened to "Seraphim steel."

However, Amren's true form was kept rather vague in ACOWAR; as Amren's light blinded Feyre, she couldn't quite make out what she really was.

I believe this was intentional - and important.

Because, the Seraphim are often regarded as dragons.

Dragons?

The singular form of "Seraphim" literally means "fiery flying serpent."

Later texts describe the Seraphim as "dragon-shaped angels."

As almost certain proof of this; the Seraphim in the ACOTAR world are ruled by Prince Drakon.

"Drakon" means Dragon (in Hebrew too!)

In fact, SJM hints at Amren's dragon form multiple times, referring to her as a "firedrake" - a type of fire dragon.

Amren also (used to) drink the blood of lambs and goats.

Just as the wyverns (a type of dragon in the Throne of Glass world), also ate lamb and goats.

Who was their God?

If this theory is true, and the Seraphim (including Amren) are dragons (or a type of angel-dragon hybrid), it begs the question: who is the God that Amren, and the other Seraphim serve? (Or, perhaps used to serve in Amren's homeworld?)

As of Crescent City 2, we are lead to believe that Thurr is a "minor storm deity," but I think that is a lie, spun by the Asteri.

Because, Bryce notes that Thursday's were named after Thurr, as well as a "behemoth planet."

The Crescent City world more closely follows Roman Mythology, and, in Roman Mythology, Thursday's, and the giant planet, are named after Jupiter; the God of all Gods. His Greek equivalent is Zeus.

Both Jupiter and Zeus were Gods of thunder and lightning (and recall that SJM drew many connections between Hunt, who also has lightning powers, and Thurr, in HOSAB).

Thus, I believe that the God the Seraphim served, was Thurr (a personification of Zeus/Jupiter).

In Greek mythology, Zeus was born on the island Crete.

In the ACOTAR world, Prince Drakon, Miriyam, and the other Seraphim live on an island called "Cretea." This is hardly a coincidence.

In fact, the dragon shifter in the Crescent City world is named "Ariadne." In Greek mythology, Ariadne was the Princess of Crete.

Hunt Athalar.

This is perhaps getting into more unhinged territory, but evidently, Hunt is involved in this narrative as well.

It is stated multiple times that Hunt looks identical to Thurr.

I believe that Hunt is either Thurr reincarnated (and this is what "Project Thurr") was,

OR, Hunt is the son of Thurr - the son of a God.

This likely explains why SJM has drawn so many overt parallels between Hunt and Jesus Christ (e.g. the same crown of thorns); Hunt is a son of Thurr, just as Jesus was the son of God.

Further, Hunt's true name is Orion. As most are aware, Orion was a famous hunter in Greek mythology.

Where did a majority of the stories about Orion take place? Crete. It's all connected.

Thunderbirds.

Further, it is stated in CC2 that Thurr is connected to the Thuderbirds in some way. In fact, Hunt's own power appears to be the same as the Thunderbirds.

Thus, I can't shake the feeling that the Thunderbirds are the Crescent City version of the Seraphim - or related in some way.

Could it be that Thunderbirds = Seraphim = Dragons?

In fact, Sofie's Thunderbird power greatly parallels Amren's own power;

Both were manifestations of light, with wings of light.

Both were seen as an "angel," but their true form was vague, and hard to see.

It's then perhaps no coincidence that Amren's eyes have been described, MULTIPLE TIMES, as full of "lightning."

And that even the Seraphim blades were described as "lightning given flesh."

Thus, if these beings are all connected, then it suggests that Hunt may also have the power of a dragon. Or, perhaps as the High Lords of Prythian have a "beast" form, the Seraphim/Thunderbirds have a dragon form.

As further proof of this, recall that SJM stated that the HOSAB cover has a variety of clues and easter eggs. If we zoom in, what is on Hunt's chest...?

The face of a dragon.

How does this all connect?

It's pretty obvious that SJM is going for an angels vs demons sort of retelling - there's the Asteri and the angels, and the Princes of Hel and the demons. And, as seen in the bible (and other related texts), the angels and demons were often at war with each other.

I have a feeling that Thurr was on the side of the angels. It is stated that dragon fire is one of the few things that can harm the Princes of Hel - this aligns perfectly.

We also know that Hunt was bred to be "receptive" to the demons of Hel, which makes him an expert at hunting them - further proof. (Then, there's the whole biblical and mythological symbolism of the lightning, which was often used to smite down sinners).

We also know that the Asteri created "warriors" in the ACOTAR world, which were a prototype for the angels in the Crescent City world - this was the Seraphim.

So, was Thurr like the Asteri overlord?

I don't know what exactly what all of this means (especially for Hunt), but I do know that something big is brewing...

[flower-cage]

The Wolf and The Dragon | Chapter Two

Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: The war between the Greens and the Blacks has begun, and the youngest of the Stark heirs is sent on a secret mission to King's Landing. In its course, she will learn to accept the power that was never meant to be hers and the love she never thought she deserved.

Ao3 | Main Masterlist | TWATD Masterlist | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | NEW Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 coming soon

Chapter Two: The Art of War

Chapter summary: Your skills in strategy and swordsmanship are put to the test. The Prince proves how far he will go to prevent your triumph.

Words: 4,118

Warnings: swearing, aggression, violence, and discussions of violence, patriarchy, systemic sexism, bigotry.

Although this chapter does not contain smut, later chapters will. Minors do not interact.

The wide room is made silent upon your arrival. Shadow walks to your left and the Prince to your right. Swiftly he makes his way toward the opposite end of the wooden table residing ahead. Around it are lords you don’t recognize, though their House sigils stand out and allow you to estimate their importance, and the Grand Maester is betrayed by the large chain he wears on his chest. Next to the Prince, the Lord Hand and the Queen Mother are the only ones with whom you have made acquaintances.

If not for the enormous direwolf at your side, you would have perhaps felt smaller in the presence of so many highborn Lords of Westeros. Many surely had seen more battles, served more kings, and survived more winters. Few, however, if any, had endured as much scorn and harsher words as you. Few had had to prove themselves worthy of a spot in their familial heritage and commendations. Your eyes fall on the Green Queen and her second-born son - few, but not none.

Your raven leather tunic and the tight braid that disciplines your hair further support your feelings of propriety. They make you Captain of the Guards and it is in chambers such as this that your ingenuity prevails; where you know how to prove yourself, how to awe, and to triumph.

You resume your slow steps toward the table. Maps, letters, and old parchment cover its surface.

“What,” Queen Alicent gasps, dropping her hands whence they had been concealing her mouth, “in the Seven Hells, is that behemoth you have brought with you?” 

Her expression of utmost horror matches all of those who stand present, in silence and in study of your behemoth. All except the Prince, whose scorn makes plain he does not enjoy the frightful attention you are given.

“This is Shadow, your Grace,” you smile heartening, attempting to appease the collective reaction, “my direwolf... She will bring no harm to any but those who will harm me. And she makes for an excellent warrior.”

You watch as she shakes her head, a means to free herself of the trepidation that governed her.

“Very well,” she decides, defeatedly, “as long as she is not left to wander off alone.”

A rumble of complaints and disagreement threatens to surge around you, but the Queen quickly silences it in favor of commencing discussions. Inevitably, you note the absence of a most crucial figure in your midst.

“Pardon me, your Grace,” your brows furrow, “are we not to wait for the King?”

“The King -” Otto Hightower interjects, looking at you pointedly. Though his daughter’s approbation is yours, his own threatens to flicker each time he addresses you. If not for your House’s support, you recognize it would have taken a greater effort on your part to secure his civility - not unlike it is with his grandson. “- Is attending to further pressing matters.”

More pressing than preparations for war?, you think.

Recalling your unreserved conversation with the Prince the night previous, you turn to him in search of a more transparent answer. He allows you a simple smirk.

You know of his pursuits and enjoyments.

Warmth unfurls from your chest and upward to your cheekbones at the racy visions the memory provokes. It doesn’t last, this foreign feeling of iniquity, for soon the Queen gives word to some Lord on her right to initiate his discourse. And so, the council commences.

You listen attentively as these knights and Lords of the Seven Kingdoms discuss the circumstances of their present allegiances: Baratheon, Lannister, Strong. The absence of your House’s name from that count does not go unnoticed. Good, you think. It is for the better that your advantage is kept secret until unequivocally needed.

You listen as a Lannister lord declares his fleet to the services of the King, another swears the loyalty of his many-thousand-men army, and yet a third makes calculations of the men of the City Watch and of Oldtown. A minute Lord who bears a cane - a Strong, you note - assuredly reveals the number of vassal Houses who will support the King in battle under his call. Once they have their estimates, they are quick to compare them to the Blacks’: Velaryon, Tyrell, Stark, and Arryn.

Any time the House of the Wolf comes into question, your spine tenses. You keep your head down the longest you can, yet unsure of your function in this debate. Regardless of the dexterity you had once exhibited in the councils of Winterfell and the confidence you had learned to sustain, your heart beats anxiously in your chest. You had gained the respect of the men who ruled in the North, sure, but these high Lords of King’s Landing see you for nothing more than a second-class being - if they even see you at all.

“It would be a sure tragedy to face the Velaryon fleet at sea,” the Lord Hand defends. The Lannisters voice their agreement, having the second-largest fleet in Westeros, yet still no match for the Sea Snake.

“And I will not risk a battle of fire in the skies,” Queen Alicent asserts. She has both hands spread firmly on the table, examining the piles of parchment before her.

“Let us attack by land, then,” someone concludes rather stupidly, rather loudly, and to your astonishment amasses a considerable number of advocates. “Let us take our joint armies to them!”

“It would be ages before a Northern army rushed anywhere near south to their aid,” a Baratheon Lord concurs. 

A battle of words is alight with the apparent determination of an attack by infantry. Every lord who has something to say now shouts their opinions in a disorderly manner and those who don’t shout insults even louder.

“We don’t have enough ships to carry that many men-”

“I shall take Vhagar and release fire upon them, draw them out-”

“I said I will not risk war by dragonfire!”

“Let us attack by sea, land, and the sky! Quick and sudden, before the enemy can retaliate!”

You are revolted at the barbaric display of male-centered politics that unfolds before you; of men crashing like wild beasts unleashed against one another aimlessly. No matter how many times you had seen a similar exhibit, albeit on a smaller scale, it repelled you. Worse perhaps than the savagery is the squandered time and intellect, for the suggestions you are unfortunate to identify above the noise are but reflections of an ignorant desire for power and violence.

Soon, you lose the will to save face before your liege lords and allow your features to depict your true frustrations. You will yourself to look away from these roaring Lords of Westeros and glance at the Queen. You watch her face portray discontentment similar to yours, and in seconds she too has to look away from it - from the savagery. When your gazes lock, she straightens up again, as though reminded of your attendance.

“And what say you, my Lady?” her voice cuts through the uproar as Valyrian steel cuts through silk. 

One by one, the men in the room quieten and shift their attention to you, being reminded too of Shadow. Her mighty presence depreciates their egos, revealing a valley amid conflicting opinions through which you can reason more comfortably. If only momentarily, you relish the relief it is to free your thoughts.

“The art of war is to use offense as a last resort,” you say firmly but your eyes glance downwards, avoiding the glares from the men who surround you. “And war itself is a battle of strategy and resources, not of steel and fire.”

“What do you know of war, girl?!”

“Shouldn’t you be bearing cups, eh?”

“And who are you?”

“It matters not who she is,” the Queen slashes through the indignation before it can swarm you, “She is a trusted ally of the King and you will listen.”

She nods for you to continue.

“We should not exhaust our greatest assets for the sake of striking first,” you explain. “Rather, we should take down their strongest advantages with as little of our resources as possible, drawing as little attention as possible.”

The lords about you are uncharacteristically quiet as pensive interest predominates. Even the Prince, who repeatedly refuses to be agreeable, steps closer in retracted intrigue. The Queen looks pleased, though in silence and in deep thought like the rest of them.

“Very well,” Lord Lannister grants suddenly. “What do you suggest, my Lady?”

His approval is evident, and you see it as a conquest - one man down. You hesitate for a second. Looking around the room, you ask:

“What would be our enemies' strongest advantages?”

“The Velaryon navy, for one,” Lord Lannister is who addresses you again, though several nod in agreement. “They have control of the Narrow Sea, from the Stepstones to the Bay of Crabs. And the Sea Snake is simply unbeatable.” He shakes his head in despair.

From the Stepstones to the Bay of Crabs. 

“Wouldn’t it be fair to assume, however, that Lord Corlys would have his forces draw closer to Driftmark in the wake of this war?”

“That would be very likely, my Lady, yes,” he answers, disappointed at his overlooking of such a key detail. “But they still hold a number of fast ships and expert seamen that have no match in the Seven Kingdoms.”

Before you can reason anymore, the Prince speaks up.

“The quickest way to destroy hundreds of ships,” calculating is his regard, but there is no animosity in his expression; he’s too engrossed in this game of strategy, as are you, “is by dragonfire.”

You note that the Queen is quick to roll her eyes, at a loss, but before she turns to scold him yet again, he continues.

“However, they have at least twice the number of dragons we do,” he counters, “not to speak of eggs and unclaimed mounts.”

“Something else in their favor,” you conclude. He hums in agreement.

“They would be just as quick to retaliate,” he adds, “and their strike certainly fatal.”

Knowledge of dragons is not lost on you, not entirely. In the solitude of your youth, accounts of the great conquests and calamities of the Targaryen clan had kept you company. No matter how scarcely you ever found them in the North, you had studied them profusely. And in your few journeys, you had sought them repeatedly.

Be that as it may, you are merely a Northern lady who has yet to see a dragon in the flesh. Your confidence wavers, doubting you can uncover solutions the aristocrats of the Dragons haven’t already discussed. Even so, you shut your eyes tightly in an effort to concentrate and retrieve any relevant insight from the depths of your mind.

“You see, my dear Lady,” the Lord Hand starts with feigned sympathy, near patronizingly, “We cannot hope to take down-”

You snap your head upward, lips part in a gasp of sudden realization.

“Grand Maester,” you call for the older man who stands among the lords to your right. “I remember reading about a plant once, in a short account of a voyage of long ago,” you lick your lips excitedly, “a plant whose sap caused inflammation to dragons’ fire ducts, turning them ill.”

The Maester’s look of helplessness would have shattered your own hopes if not for the timely intervention of the Targaryen Prince.

“I know what you speak of,” comes with a sharp inhale from the other end of the room. “Rather, I have a vague memory of it.”

Your heartbeat rings in your ears.

“How did you come across it?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief. “It is but an unimportant account of an unimportant travel.”

“Perhaps not so unimportant anymore,” you smile, relieved. He doesn’t return it.

“Ah, yes!” the Grand Maester exclaims. “I have heard of it, yes,” he reaffirms but you are not convinced.  “Although, I’m afraid botany is not within my mastery. I would have to return to the Citadel to investigate this further.”

You turn to the Queen and the lords of her council once more.

“I believe that if we could dry and pulverize this herb, it could be easily transported and spread-”

“On Dragonstone,” the Prince cuts in, unable to mask the amazement he directs to you. Nodding, you reaffirm:

“On Dragonstone.”

The sun both glints off the metalwork before you and burns the back of your neck uncomfortably. Your digits run along the heated blades, pursuing the rays of light. From behind you come the swooshing sounds of steel cutting into the air - it is the Prince as he prepares for your sparring match. His feet drag around the fine gravel and dirt swiftly.

Looking up, you can see the stands where the majority of the War Council sit, eager to watch the free display of prowess and, well, violence. It must be a cause for great excitement to have a woman defy the Prince in combat, especially if blood is drawn. If it must come to it, you will not shy away from retribution. However prudent would be to engage in a fight typical of sword training, harmless, you had seen enough not to expect amity from him.

It is your turn to be awed when you shift to watch his movements over your shoulder. The dominance he exerts on his muscles is exhibited by the preciseness of his sword, his steps, and his pirouettes. They are brutal, forceful, and yet perfectly graceful. He is as incredibly talented as he is volatile and intractable. He had bent to your will when you showed competence in strategy, but you do not think the same will hold true this time.

“Hm... You fared well today,” he had murmured.

Accompanied by him and Ser Criston, you strode toward the training grounds.

“We need to learn where to retrieve it,” he added.

“And how to dry it,” you agreed, “and transport it safely.”

He hummed again.

It had been decreed you were to lead the operation, to both oversee and effectuate all that pertained to it. And both the Prince and Ser Criston had been selected to partake in this quest. In the pit of your stomach had settled anxiety, for not once had you undertaken schemes of such magnitude, such fatality. Were you unsuccessful in any feat of this assignment, the Kingdoms could be broken, your House vanquished, and the Prince murdered. All under your watch. How would you relay to his mother you had let him perish?

“I came across it a long time ago,” he had said earlier, referring to that single attestation that could turn your odds in this war, “but I know where to look for it, and perhaps find more that concerns it.”

“Good,” the Lord Hand had assented when you readied to finalize the council, when only his family and yourself remained in the room. “Then you shall be of aid to our Lady Stark.”

“Ser Criston will be available to you, as well,” Queen Alicent had declared.

And so the three of you found yourselves in each other’s company a second time. The daily stiff walks with the Prince would be extended into stiff reading and plotting sessions.

Now, you puzzle over who will turn up to face you: the brash, hot-tempered Prince from the night previous, or the one who prevailed in between his angered outbursts - courteous and disciplined. If not for Shadow’s ever-ominous presence, you think the former would delight in cutting you down the first chance given. You don’t believe it is the collaborative Prince Aemond who will fight you this afternoon. And a part of you doesn’t want him to.

“Very well,” the voice of the Lord Commander calls out.

You feel for your sword strapped to your waist, the one with which you had traveled far south and sworn your allegiance to King Aegon. The memory reminds you that your true purpose in this battling space is to be accepted and integrated. Proving the Starks’ valor is a task appointed to you, and you alone. If you do not find a way, no one will, and, should you fail, ruin will be brought upon your House. The nobility who watch expectantly from their high seats should be enough encouragement.

Against an opponent such as yours, however, there is an ulterior twisted pleasure you wish to seek: his subjugation. It is most unlike you to give in to your passions and yearn for aggression over diplomacy, but the weight of your sword entices you with a power that is too easily turned vicious. Likewise, his constant antagonism ensorcels you to seek it. He stands before you with his mighty Valyrian blade in hand, sporting an awfully confident semblance.

“Firstly,” Ser Criston continues, loud enough to reach your expectant audience, “the Lady will defend against the Prince and attempt to disarm him. Then, she shall take offense against me.”

Before he declares the start of the match, you reach for the large bow at the top of your braid. It comes undone as you pull on the string and the Prince frowns nearly imperceptibly in confusion. Your intentions are made clear when you bring it to your face, and he all but pounces to have his chest pressed against yours. In a pitifully inadequate exhibition of authority, he towers over you. The aversion that assumes you is welcomed and you let it fuel your ill-suited lust for combat.

“You wish to make a mockery of me?” he growls behind gritted teeth.

You take in his worst, the peak of his flaming hatred, with a false grace to conceal the sweet adrenaline that blooms in your veins. Somewhat near the Lord Commander protests weakly, deterred by his own fuddle.

“I would never, your Grace,” you murmur softly, mischievously, “I wish only to present the full extent of my abilities.”

His one-eyed sight roams along your face a single time, from your eyes to the dip of your bottom lip. Though he takes a step back, his nostrils flare and his lips pierce in clear displeasure. He positions himself three long steps away - the sparring distance - and that is the last thing you see. 

“I will not draw a wooden sword,” he announces as you tighten the knot at the back of your head.

“I would not ask you to.”

Ser Criston calls for the start of the confrontation and the Prince wastes no time in landing his first assaults. Right, left, up, right, left: you defend against each of his blows deftly. His steps, though light, kick away gravel to reveal his positioning. His sword slices the air and allows you to discern the extent of its blade.

The combinations of strikes that follow are greater in challenge and skill. The more you deflect his onslaught, ever-growing in intensity and speed, the more frustrated the Prince becomes. Conversely, the easier it is for you to defend against him. Yet, though his grunts denounce his movements, you understand you cannot keep swerving his blows for much longer.

You follow your next defense quickly with an offense, bearing your sword down straight into his space - a hit that is easy to resist being as skilled as he is, but one that shifts his positioning momentarily and infuriates him immensely. The shocked gasps from the crowd serve your purpose well, for, with renewed rage, the Prince fixes his wide stance firmly and swings his arm back to hit you powerfully.

He never makes it, for you sidestep his advance and, dropping your own blade to the ground, grab his attacking wrist by the sleeve of his tunic. You act fast before he can work out your intentions: pulling him close, you keep his sword arm extended away from your core. With your right foot on his hip you propel yourself up in the air and break his stance. And in mid-air you throw the opposite leg forcefully down on his neck, locking his arm between both.

As your back hits the ground, the Prince yelps in pain and finally lets go of his weapon, his arm bent at an awkward angle. You had braced for the impact, expecting it, and you lunge toward him a final time, straddling his torso and drawing out a dagger.

Your noses brush lightly when you secure his dominant arm away and down on the dirt. Though you cannot see it, you can feel his flush. The heat that engulfs you is heady, sticky, and the adrenaline that settles after the violent encounter electrifies your flesh. When his puffs of exertion hit your skin, they tickle all the way down to your collarbones.

You wish to uncover your eyes and savor his loss, his indignation, but that would mean releasing him - something you cannot afford.

“Yield,” you bite between gritted teeth, keeping the sharp blade pressed neatly along the line of his jaw.

For a second you think he will refuse, but then he whispers his defeat and you can finally pull away the fabric from your eyes.

He is livid. You see it on the piercing of his lips, the flaring of his nostrils, the hollowing of his cheeks. You try your hardest not to smirk like he had many times before, but you recognize you lack sufficient maturity to conceal the amusement in your eyes. He looks like he wants to devour you like a dragon does its prey.

His hands grip your waist firmly before he sits up abruptly, the motion sliding you onto his lap. You aren’t given the time to neither protest nor fluster, for in mere seconds he has you both standing. It startles you so, you take his retreat for granted, for he is quick to turn once more and advance.

Ser Criston yells for him and the crowd gasps as you dodge the first swing of his sword. You leap over the next one and twist your body away to evade the third. He pursues you with a malicious vigor and your gut fills with cold fear. He will murder you.

You are fortunate to land on your sword when you slip from the next cut of his blade. You barely have time to brandish it and poise defensively against him, but it is of no use. His blows bear a strength too great for you to endure in your startled stance, and a successive series of them release your trusted blade from your grasp.

There is naught to do but wait for either intervention or your demise. And you steel yourself for the latter, given the ranking of your assailant, but the Prince no longer has his attention on you, for Shadow is growling and charging toward him in all her ferociousness.

“Shadow, stop!” you shout at once. “Stop!”

She only slows her advance when you stand to thwart her.

“Stop,” you quieten her with a hand on her snout.

Many have come down the stands to join you in the arena. The Queen softly scolds her son a few feet away, equally disappointed as she is worried. He is quiet, in turn, unwilling to look her in the eyes. Although his anger still predominates, there is something akin to shame in his posture. He notices your lingering watch and turns away, walking determinedly back to the Keep. Lord Hightower, on the other hand, goggles at you and your direwolf with an avarice that unveils how untroubled he was at his grandson’s peril, for both you and Shadow have revealed the great asset you posit to his side of the war.

Queen Alicent and Ser Criston approach you with apprehensive glances.

“Are you alright, darling?” Her anxious sweetness astounds you, coming after your wolf had nearly eaten her son alive. She squeezes your arm soothingly and her eyes solicit forgiveness, but you find you lack the words and the ease to respond.

An uncomfortable silence lingers as the three of you sit with the knowledge the Prince had attempted on your life.

“You fought wonderfully, today, Captain,” the Lord Commander smiles to break the ice. If the circumstances were any different he would surely beam at you. “I have no doubt in my heart you will prove your valor on the battlefield when the time comes.”

Taglist:

@ficsrecsforhrnybitches @missusnora

[myth-lord]

Enemies Idea for Lufia II Remake

LUFIA II (Remake) Enemies list that I would use in an eventual remake of the classic game. Many enemies are re-named, re-designed, replaced or added. While I changed many names, I kept the playful childish and simple name style of the monsters, it is what made Lufia so great for me. So no Nuckelavee, Ahuizotl, Papinijuwari and other such difficult names in here, sorry.

Red Jelly – Blue Jelly – Green Jelly – Mirror Jelly – Gold Jelly

Gecko (Lizard) – Frilled Lizard – Basilisk

Caterpillar (Moth) – Mega Moth – Rust Moth

Fungi (Mushroom) – Fairy Shroom (Big Mushroom) – Death Spore

Cave Bat – Shriek Bat (Big Bat) – Blood Bat (Red Bat)

Jump Spider – Black Widow (Web Spider) – Sea Spider – Tarantula

Mosquito – Shadow Fly – Mage Bane

Raptor (Eagle) – Razor Hawk (Hawk) – Fire Hawk

Big Beetle (Ladybug) – Bomb Beetle (Poison Beetle) – Tiger Beetle – Goliath Beetle

Poison Frog – Slime Prince (Frog King) – Glutton

Wild Horse – Nightmare (Armored Horse)

Centipede (Sentopez) – Ragworm – Megapede

Mad Bull (Buffalo) – Armor Bull (Bruse)

Urchin (Needle Lizard) – Poison Urchin (Poison Lizard)

Kobold (Cobalt) – Kobold Lord (Gnome)

Crab (Small Crab) – Samurai Crab (Big Crab) – Yeti Crab (Cancer)

Imp – Gremlin – Incubus – Fiend

Goblin Trapper (Goblin) – Goblin Kamikaze – Goblin Raider (Armor Goblin) – Goblin Jester (Goblin Mage) – Goblin King (Regal Goblin) – Redcap

Scorpion – Antares

Skeleton – Bloody Bones – Bone Chariot (Hade Chariot) – Bone Gorem

Killer Bee (Big Bee) – Armor Bee – Angry Swarm

Coreless (No Core) – Blood Core (Red Core) – Light Core (Blue Core) – Dark Core (Green Core) – Chaos Core

Ork Berserker – Ork Beastmaster – Ork Shaman (Ork Mage) – Ork Warlord (Fighter Ork)

Wood Gorem – Iron Gorem – Magma Gorem – Gold Gorem

Nuborg – Juggernaut

Zombie – Ghoul – Mummy – Revenant

Wispy – Witch Light

War Dog (Doben) – Hell Hound – Cerberus

Lizardman – Skull Lizard – Dragonian

Green Clay – Mad Clay (Mad Gorem / Doppelganger)

Sandman (Sand Gorem) – Dust Devil

Cursed Sword (Deadly Sword) – Soul Sword – Ares Sword

Winger – Sylph

Cursed Armor (Deadly Armor) – Ares Armor

Earth Viper

Pumpkin Head – Halloween (Mad Head)

Serpent (Spinner) – Coridras – Winged Serpent (Great Coca)

Slug (Snell) – Drill Shell – Metal Slug

Red Lobster – Garbost (Blue Lobster)

Snatcher – Fog Stalker

Stinger – Hell Wasp

La Fleshia (Horrid Smell) – Nightshade (Wheel Eel)

Torrent – Phantom Tree (Mad Ent) – Chaos Ent (Jinmenju)

Octopus (Evil Fish) – Devilfish

Ammonite – Ammoknight

Squid – Kraken

Ochi Warrior – Dark Warrior (Samurai)

Specter – Wraith (Dark Spirit) – Banshee

Dark Skull – Hades Skull

Dullahan (Jurahan)

Lamia (Ramia) – Medusa – Naga

Troll – Mutant Troll (Two-Headed)

Lion – Manticore – Sphinx

Druid (Wizard) – Necromancer – Warlock (Dark Summoner)

Flytrap (Crow Kelp) – Mantrap (Red Plant)

Tengu

Drop Bear – Lunar Bear – Thunderbeast

Vampire Rose – Desert Rose

Vampire – Nosferatu (Nosferato)

Shadow

Brigand – Assassin (Asashin) – Ninja

Minotaur (Minataurus) – Gorgon

Hydra (Hidora) – Scylla (Orky) – Hidora (High Hidora)

Waiban – Crystal Waiban (White Dragon)

Saurus Rex (T Rex) – Brokion

Cokatoris – Pug

Gargoyle – Runic Guardian (Rogue Shape)

Tartona

Newt – Axolotl – Salamander (Cold & Warm)

Demise – Lich (Leech)

Mimic – Man Eater (Treasure Box) – Pandora Box (Blue Mimic)

Siren (Seirein) – Lorelei

Nettles (Venus Flytrap) – Pitcher Vine (Moray Vine)

Serfaco

Grianos

Behemoth (Styracosaurus)

Cyclops – Gigante (Mega Cyclops)

Green Dragon – Red Dragon – Blue Dragon – Black Dragon

Terror Bird – Roc (Crow / Pteranodon)

Evil Eye (Warm Eye) – Argus

Seahorse – Sea Dragon

Moray Eel (Moray)

Bolt Fish

Current

Ghost Fish – Sea Demon (Angler)

Razor Marlin (Unicorn)

Aqualoi (Merman) – Sea Giant (Aqualoi)

Leviathan (White Whale)

Ghost Ship

Well Genie – Earth Genie – Flame Genie – Storm Genie (Wind Genie)

Copper Dragon – Silver Dragon – Gold Dragon

Devil (Archfiend)

ENTIRELY NEW ENEMIES – These are new monsters that never appeared in any form in Lufia 2, but will only be available in the remake. Many of them are OLD CAVE only appearances though, others replaced the cut enemies.

Shaggy – Fury

Gold Fox

Dragonfly

Anemone – Charybdis

Earwig – Assassin Bug (Bug Lord)

Book Wurm – Sand Wurm – Death Wurm

Dire Rat – Plague Rat – Rat King

Carnivore – Jackalope – Mad Hatter (Time)

Magic Jar

Marionette – Voodoo Doll

Toadling Swarm – Brood Mother

Evil Clam – Titan Clam

Starfish – Crown of Thorns

Jellyfish – Man o War

Snapper Turtle – Dragon Turtle

Land Tortoise

Pirate – Pirate Captain

Sea Bird (Parrot)

Manta – Sand Manta

Brain Coral – Psycho Coral

Blue Shark – Hammer Shark – White Shark (Megalodon)

Mantis – Flower Mantis

Ant – Fire Ant – Gold Digger

Sewer Alligator – Killer Croc

Mad Pig – Razorback Boar

Cursed Book – Grimoire (Summoner)

Chameleon

Hag – Sea Hag – Harpy

Pond Bug – Lava Skater

Antlion

Fairy Dragon

Mandrake – Spriggan – Dryad

Owl – Snowy Owl

Mousse S – Mousse M – Mousse XL

Wolfman

Weed – Kelp Weed

Catfish

Centaur

REAL BOSSES – These are all the bosses that won’t turn into regular enemies later in the game, as some bosses (like the Catfish, Lizardman, Mummy, Troll, Vampire Rose, Goblin King, Ghost Ship ect) will later show up in the game as regular enemies to battle.

Soldiers Talos (Name of the Tank-Boss) Arachne the Spider Queen (Replacement of Tarantula) Danielle & Pierre (The Hellequin Twins) Evil Mirror (Replaces the White Dragons in Mirror Tower) Phantom Tree (Replaces the Lion fight) Spirit of Vengeance Infernal Dragon Idura Camu Goons (Ogres that fight with Idura and Camu) Gades Amon Erim Daos Egg Dragon Master Jelly

GOOD-HEARTED CREATURES: These can appear very random and rare on the battlefield, they won’t attack you unless you attack them and they help you with the battle, you can befriend them, you don’t need to catch them like the Evil Creatures/Enemies, they want to become friends on their own, but only 5% chance that may happen.

Gnome Cupid Angel Pegasus Mermaid Carbuncle Leprechaun Phoenix Griffon Unicorn

CUT ENEMIES – Enemies I really didn’t care for and which I think should be replaced by better varieties and which I always found dull and unneeded. Some enemies are really so different than before that I could add them in cut (like the Nightmare taking over the Armored Horse for example) but I choose not to as they are kinda replaced.

Dark Fly (It was a bee not a fly to begin with)

Armour Dait (Dragonian is enough)

Armour Nail (Tartona should be unique)

Evil Shell (Drill Shell shouldn’t have another sprite in the game)

Samurai (Dark Warrior is better name and looked 100% like the Samurai)

Sly Fox (I even wanted to cut Tengu from the game and replace with with Harpy, but didn’t cut it in the end and now have both Harpy and Tengu)

Ice Roge (What on earth is a Roge? Very random and difficult enemy so cut)

Sea Hidora (No use when you have Scylla/Orky)

King Hidora (High Hidora is more than enough, this one wasn’t even in the game.)

Brinz Lizard (The salamander can switch from cold to heat version, so it is kinda in the game, but doesn’t have its own enemy page)

She-Viper (I think this name was a spelling error like there were so many in the game, but She-Viper is just a stupid mistake, and one Moray enemy is more than enough for me.)

Perch (A giant Elasmosaurus named after a simple fish? Current needs to be unique, so bye Perch, more than enough new sea creatures to make up for it.)

Killer Whale (This was just a blue colored sperm whale, I want the white whale/leviathan to be unique, so bye, bye Killer Whale.)

Snow Gas (What is this anyway? Great Coca was much better in colors as well, never understood this name, and I have more than enough Ice-Based monsters to replace it and which make somewhat more sense.)

CAPSULE MONSTERS – There aren’t any in my version of the game, ANY enemy can be captured/trained/befriended by Maxim in this version and fight by his side. Items can still be fed to them to make them grow in levels, they won’t change appearance though. If you befriend/capture a monster you gain it’s monster-page in which you find all its stats, weaknesses, resistances, abilities and fun little fluff bits. Most Capsule Monster didn’t make it into my monster lists as they were so poorly named and designed that I just wouldn’t care, I used some as enemies though, like some of the Mousse variants, Gold Fox, Firebird, Unicorn, Pegasus, Shaggy, Centaur, Wolfman and Redcap for examples. But who needs Hard Hat, Fishhead, Giant, Blue Bird or Big Imp for example, NOBODY.

AQUATIC ENEMIES – These enemies can be caught on your fishing rod or encountered as enemies when using your boat for travel over lakes or the sea. Not all of these enemies are only encountered in water though, some (like the Octopus and Frog) are also encountered in dungeons or on the map and beaches.

Sea Spider / Raptor / Razor Hawk / Poison Frog / Slime Prince / Glutton / Ragworm / Urchin / Poison Urchin / Crab / Samurai Crab / Yeti Crab / Wispy / Witch Light / Drill Shell / Red Lobster / Garbost / Octopus / Devilfish / Ammonite / Ammoknight / Squid / Kraken / Wraith / Scylla / Hidora / Newt / Axolotl / Siren / Lorelei / Blue Dragon / Terror Bird / Roc / Seahorse / Sea Dragon / Moray Eel / Bolt Fish / Current / Ghost Fish / Sea Demon / Razor Marlin / Aqualoi / Sea Giant / Leviathan / Ghost Ship / Well Genie / Storm Genie / Dragonfly / Anemone / Charybdis / Dire Rat / Plague Rat / Magic Jar / Evil Clam / Titan Clam / Starfish / Crown of Thorns / Jellyfish / Man o War / Snapper Turtle / Dragon Turtle / Pirate / Pirate Captain / Sea Bird / Manta / Brain Coral / Psycho Coral / Blue Shark / Hammer Shark / White Shark / Sewer Alligator / Killer Croc / Sea Hag / Harpy / Pond Bug / Kelp Weed / Catfish

ANCIENT CAVE ONLY ENEMIES – These enemies only appear on the side-game of Lufia 2 which is this 100-level dungeon that changes every time you enter it, in the remake this feature will be greatly enhanced and improved upon. All these enemies are extremely dangerous and have bizarre special abilities that can ruin your armor, items, magic and chances of survival even worse than the monsters inhabited the world above of Lufia.

Gold Jelly / Rust Moth / Mage Bane / Goblin King / Angry Swarm / Chaos Core / Revenant / Cerberus / Fog Stalker / Chaos Ent / Ammoknight / Warlock / Tengu / Pandora Box / Lorelei / Argus / Ghost Ship / Well Genie / Earth Genie / Flame Genie / Storm Genie / Copper Dragon / Silver Dragon / Gold Dragon / Devil / Rat King / Mad Hatter / Magic Jar / Marionette / Voodoo Doll / Cursed Book / Grimoire / Mousse S / Mousse M / Mousse XL / Catfish

[imaginarianisms]

full name :  aemond targaryen. other names :   aemo (only if close), aemond one-eye, & aemond the kinslayer. age : 10-20 (main). species : human; dragonrider (main); human; draconic alterhuman (modern). gender : androgynous presenting amab nonbinary man; he/they pronouns. sexuality : demiomniromantic caedomnisexual.

origin : the red keep, king's landing, the crownlands, westeros. (main; verse varies); america (modern; verse varies). current location : the red keep. (main; verse varies); americas (modern; verse varies). nationality : westerosi (main; canon); american (modern). ethnicity : the blood of old valyria (house targaryen, house velaryon, possibly house celtigar), with semidistant mixed first men & andal (house hightower & house florent through the maternal line who're heavily mixed indigenous & were initially an indigenous house in our& lore) & summer islander (house velaryon through viserys through the paternal line) ancestry (main); white (or at the very least white seeming) with indigenous & semidistant black heritage. spoken languages : high valyrian & the common westerosi tongue, high valyrian sign language & westerosi sign language only when communicating nonverbally with helaena. (main; canon); english, french, latin, & american sign language. (modern).

family : viserys i targaryen (father; disowned; estranged), alicent hightower (mother), criston cole (paternal figure), daemon targaryen (paternal uncle), baelon targaryen (paternal grandfather), alyssa targaryen (maternal grandmother), jaehaerys i targaryen (paternal great grandfather), alysanne i targaryen (paternal great grandmother), otto hightower (maternal grandfather), alyrie florent (maternal grandmother), gwayne hightower (maternal uncle), rhaenyra i targaryen (older half sister), jocealyn velaryon (half-niece), jacaerys velaryon (half-nephew), lucerys velaryon (half-nephew), joffrey velaryon (half-nephew), aegon iii targaryen (half-nephew), viserys ii targaryen (half-nephew), aegon ii targaryen (older brother), helaena targaryen (older sister), jaehaerys targaryen *!* (nephew), jaehaera targaryen *!* (niece), maelor targaryen *!* (nephew), daeron targaryen (younger brother), vhagar (his she-dragon & war mount; the green tyrant, the oldest & most powerful dragon in the world), aerenna {waters-} targaryen-velaryon (daughter; vaenna velaryon), aelyx 'greenfyre' {rivers-} targaryen (son; alys rivers). partner(s) : vaenna velaryon ♥ (childhood companion; love of his life; capable more than anyone to chain him & "hold his sanity", though just as equally able to bring about the worst of aemond should she ask it of him or harm come to her; he is stronger with her & yet considers her his weakest spot, & for that she is most guarded; has created & destroyed in her name; would be lost to time without her at his side; stranger's bride; @velcryons); alys rivers (spellbinder; she who bewitched him; intrigued; fascination; his witch queen in unholy matrimony). occupation : prince regent; dragonrider. (main; canon). student, disability rights activist, gaming influencer, sex worker & a member of aegon's band (modern). religion :  syncretic view of the gods of old valyria & the faith of the seven; agnostic.

height :   6'4". body type : paleskinned, lean, muscular, toned & powerful; tubby at first with his childhood baby fat & was actually quite short as a child, he soon turned that into muscle through intense training from 10 years old, a.emond didn't show signs of being a behemoth until his late adolescence not too long before the dance of the dragons, when he began to tower over most of the men at court & all of his brothers, including his older brother a.egon when he was initially half a.egon's size but twice as fiere when he was a child & it was at such a point it was also notable that a.emond had unusually large muscles with years of intense training had made him buff; a.emond truly outdid himself to become the lethal weapon his family required him to become in order to protect them from the blacks. disabilities & neurodivergencies : C-PTSD from long extended periods of trauma; develops antisocial personality disorder / ASPD later in life due to his severe trauma as well as emotional neglect that oftentimes manifests in him being afraid of nothing, pursuing perilous ventures & engaging in hazardous activities, adapting to someone else's personality if they are stronger than he is, becoming bold, wild, & willful, hot tempered & unforgiving as he got older, isolating himself, using a silver tongue to get in places he wants & to manipulate the people around him, becoming a social chameleon, feeling as if it's a bad thing to be afraid for if he is afraid then he's vulnerable & it can be used against him, believing it's bad to be emotional or show concern for others' emotions because most don't care about his, it's bad to be exploited because he believes exploitation is everywhere, believing in an eat or be eaten world, if he doesn't show that his bite is worse than his bark then he will be taken advantage of & he must remain on top because the ones on top are safe, he must look out for himself because nobody will do it for him, always anticipating a fight, lacking respect for authority unless his trust is earned, him being rude & inconsiderate of others' feelings somewhat unintentionally most times, believing that violence is the answer to almost everything, that almost everyone in the world is out to manipulate & hurt him & that almost everyone doesn't care about him & if they say they do then they're lying & trying to get close to him to hurt him, most of the time when he did ask for help/comfort as a child he'd be be punished or ignored, little to no love or comfort was safe, it always came with a price & a caveat & it became ingrained in him that most love & care is transactional which causes him to be extremely avoidant of relationships of any kind with very few exceptions, most bonds of his are surface level to keep them around in case someday they're useful to him & his survival because his survival & the survival of his family is the only thing that matters to him; half blind in one eye; ocular chronic pain that flares when he's stressed, angered or reminded of his trauma surrounding that night at driftmark when he was 10, especially on rainy days; mostly sex & touch repulsed due to his trauma & sexual abuse as a child; will only let close loved ones touch him. hair : silver-gold moonglow pin-straight hair when let loose reaches down his back; will occasionally wear it in a long braided ponytail over a shoulder. eyes : a pair of violet eyes before his maiming; now one eye is violet, his right eye is replaced with a sapphire that was given to him as a gift for his nameday by vaenna from dowager queen valaena velaryon the mother of aegon the conqueror's treasure trove. tattoos : has vaenna's name glyphs in high valyrian over his heart (canon); has baphomet emblazoned on his back (modern). piercings : sapphire earrings & a forked tongue splitting piercing. scars : a long vertical scar over his right eye whereas his body is littered with faded scars, most often from training & combat but there are some that are self inflicted due to self harm, on his inner thighs while first claiming & riding vhagar. (main).

educational background : a prince & dragonrider's education & educated in the mysteries of the faith; aemo becomes knowledgeable in many different topics like the histories, diplomacy, dragonlore & warfare (main; canon); college. (modern). social media : n/a (canon); most general social media, shares a youtube & a twitch channel with aegon & helaena where they stream videogames together. (modern). smoking :   n/a; casual smoker (modern). drinking :   social drinker but doesn't particularly like it because he doesn't want to make himself vulnerable unless if he's alone with aegon when he's older. drugs :   will only use pain reducing drugs if it gets exceptionally bad (canon), cannabis for medical purposes to deal with his chronic pain (modern).  athletics : a great dancer due to court etiquette, an extraordinarily quick runner, a proficient & dangerous swordsman & a lethal warrior with all of his hits aimed for the vitals, including the throat, belly, genitalia, tendons & the face, especially the eyes are targeted in battle & is an excellent rider of horses & his dragon vhagar. hobbies :   fighting, training, literature, bathing in scalding hot baths, equestrianism, & dragonriding (main; canon) streaming, gaming (modern). favorite drink : ice cold water & arbor gold. favorite food : cheese & chicken; has a weakness for cake. favorite music : classic (canon); classical, punk, rock, metal (modern). clothing style : almost always in riding attire, wears furs whenever necessary & jewels, mostly emeralds & sapphires, & attire mostly in shades of green & black. often wears his eyepatch over his sapphire eye around the company of women, such as when he was in the round hall of storm's end with borros baratheon's wife & daughters; has gathered a collection of eyepatches. wears aegon the conqueror's iron & ruby crown as prince regent in his brother's incapacitated state. in times of war he wore nightblack valyrian steel armor, chased with gold. (main; canon); casual, punk, goth, & academia. (modern).

Tagged by: stole it from ourselves& !! Tagging: anyone who breathes !

[alephskoteinos]

There is an interesting association that Cornelius Agrippa establishes regarding Satan, or The Devil, regarding his many names. In this respect he also identifies Satan or The Devil with several other devils, and even different kinds of demons and even animals.

for the Devil is called Diabolus, that is flowing downwards: that he which swelling with pride, determined to reign in high places, fell flowing downwards to the lowest parts, like the torrent of a violent stream, as Cassidorus writeth. And he is called Satan, that is, an adversary; who as St. Jerome testifieth, by reason of the corruption of his own malice, he continually resisteth, and is an adversary of God, who is the chiefest good. He is called Behemoth in the 40 chapter of Job, which signifieth an Ox; for even as an Ox desireth today, so he with the teeth of his suggestions, coveteth to destroy the upright lives of spiritual man. And Leviathan in the same place, which signifies an addition, because the Devil always endeavors to add evil to evil, and punishment to punishment. He is also called in Revelation 15 Appolion, signifying a rooter out, for he rooteth out the virtues which God planted in the soul. He is called a Serpent in the 12 of the Revelation, by reason of his virulency. A Lion in the 1 Epist, Peter and the last chapter, which roareth about seeking whom he may devour. He is called a cunning workman on Is. 55 because by his malice he deceiveth the vessels which are elected and approved. He is called Isa. 34 Onocentaurus Erynus, Pilosus, Syren, Lamia Ulula, Struthio. And by David in the 90 Psalm, an Alp, Basilisk and Dragon. In the Gospel, Mammon, the Prince of this World, and the Ruler of Darkness.

It seems possible to derive an interpretation of flowing downwards as downward ascent. First Satan falls, then he initiates the human species in their own fall from the order of God, that they might join the gods in creating their own sovereign destinies. In a certain sense, "adding evil to evil".