#find out next time on dragon ball- i mean

[the-greatest-choice-developer]

[System Notification]

Your choice has been registered:

Lloyd - Stabilize your emotions and use your connection to the mana.

[System Notification]

-Scene 1: The Explosion-

-Part 8-

The village lay in disarray. Broken beams jutted out from half-collapsed buildings, dust filled the air, and faint cracks marred the cobblestone streets. Villagers milled about, some dazed and stumbling, others hunched over in pain. The aftermath of Lloyd’s magical outburst left a scene of surreal devastation. The ground around him was scarred and upheaved, with plants having grown wildly and fruits ripened into shimmering golden dust. The earth was a chaotic mix of tangled roots and torn-up soil, the once orderly village now resembling a fantastical battleground. Lloyd surveyed the scene with a growing sense of dread. 

This is my fault, he thought, gritting his teeth. He could feel it deep in his bones—an unsettling, electric hum of magic lingering from the blast. I need to fix this.

Lloyd clenched his fists, feeling the raw energy coursing through Javier's body. It was strange—everything felt different. His senses were sharper, attuned to something beyond the physical. He could sense the currents of mana weaving through the air.

He couldn’t afford to analyze the situation now. While the people here seemed relatively unharmed, there were likely others still in danger, and the buildings were on the verge of collapse. Without pausing to think it through, Lloyd inhaled sharply and reached out to the swirling magic around him.

The sensation was immediate. Mana surged under his skin, a prickling heat that built rapidly. Lloyd's hands trembled as he struggled to rein in the wild energy. For a split second, it felt like the power was slipping through his fingers, ready to cause even more damage.

His vision blurred and he winced as a spark flew, striking a nearby pile of debris, sending it tumbling.

Focus, damn it!

Lloyd forced himself to concentrate. He had never experienced power like this before, and yet he felt an instinctual pull toward it. Slowly, he gathered the mana, drawing it in closer. It resisted and surged unpredictably, but he held firm.

He set his sights on the nearest crumbling structure—a house whose roof was sagging dangerously. He thrust his hand toward it, willing the magic to stabilize the damage. The stones of the building wobbled, threatening to collapse further, but then slowly—painfully slowly—they began to realign.

Brick by brick, the walls started to mend, each piece finding its place like a puzzle. The air around him crackled with the pressure of the magic, but Lloyd’s focus remained locked.

A moment of triumph welled up inside him as the building steadied, no longer teetering on the brink of ruin. He glanced around quickly—other villagers were staring, a mix of awe and confusion on their faces as they watched the once-unstable house repair itself under his command.

But just as Lloyd allowed himself a breath of relief, a sudden surge of energy flared from within him. Without warning, the chaotic magic lashed out. A nearby window exploded outward, glass shattering with a deafening pop. The sharp pieces scattered through the air.

Before Lloyd could fully register what was happening, Javier sprang into action. Despite still being in Lloyd’s body, his mind’s reflexes—honed by years of training—kicked in immediately. With a speed that surprised even Lloyd, Javier rushed forward, his hand outstretched. A sharp gust of wind whipped through the air.

The gust caught the shards mid-flight, halting them just inches away from the nearest villagers. With a flick of his wrist, the shards dropped harmlessly to the ground, far from the startled crowd.

Lloyd's heart was still racing from the surge of energy, and he blinked in surprise. "That was… fast," he muttered under his breath, his tension easing as the immediate danger passed.

Javier turned toward him, a hint of irritation flashing in his eyes. "You need to keep a tighter grip on yourself. If you lose control again, people could get hurt."

Lloyd bit back a retort, knowing Javier was right. Even in his borrowed body, Javier’s instincts were as sharp as ever. It was a sobering reminder that while Lloyd had the power, Javier had the skills.

The village was still. The immediate danger had passed, but the lingering tension in the air was thick. The magic had obeyed him, but only barely. He exhaled deeply, his chest heaving from the exertion.

His hand fell to his side, but his pulse continued to race. The village was no longer on the brink of collapse, but the wild power within him simmered.

He could see the villagers begin to gather—some were approaching cautiously, eyes wide with shock and gratitude. Others seemed too rattled to speak, but their relief was palpable. Still, Lloyd felt far from confident.

I did it. I helped. But what if I hadn’t?

He glanced down at Javier’s hands—at his hands now, for the time being. The magic he’d unleashed was powerful, too powerful. He knew instinctively that he hadn’t mastered it yet, that if something tipped the scales even slightly, everything could unravel. The body-swap had complicated everything too.

The villagers’ murmurs grew louder as they started asking questions, seeking guidance. Lloyd cleared his throat and raised his voice, trying to sound authoritative despite his inner turmoil.

"Everyone, please listen," Lloyd began, his voice steady despite the chaos. "We need to get to safety first. I assure you, we'll get you to a safe location. We will find the baron and baroness and we will assess the situation together."

As he spoke, Lloyd noticed a shift in the crowd. The villagers’ expressions flickered with concern as they looked toward the young lord who was standing to the side. There was an undercurrent of unease as they worried that he might take offense to the knight speaking in his stead.

Seeing their apprehension, Javier, in Lloyd’s body, gave them a reassuring smile and a gentle nod. He raised a hand in a calming gesture, hoping to convey that there was no ill will or confusion between them.

The villagers seemed to relax slightly at the gesture, their concern easing. They began to move, guided by the guards who had appeared to help manage the situation.

Lloyd watched them go, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Once the villagers were on their way to safety, he turned to Javier, who had taken up a position nearby, ready to assist.

"We need to meet with the baron and baroness as soon as possible," Lloyd said, his voice firm. "We have to assess the damage, make sure everyone is accounted for, and figure out how to get control of this power."

Javier nodded, "Agreed. Let’s get to work."

With that, Lloyd and Javier set off, determined to tackle the crisis and set things right. The village was still reeling from the magical upheaval, but they had a plan. The real work was just beginning.

[stars-and-loops]

hey uh kris, is berdly gonna be ok? last we saw he was becoming a popsicle.

thankfully sans and noelle are smart cookies, but that was close.

...He's okay. His physical form is a bit... weakened, but he's not going to die any time soon.

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 9

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, canon-typical violence, threats, yelling, plot

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 1.2K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

The hair on your neck stands up, and you whip around to see the woman in white.

“Welcome worlds-walker.”

“You-” You step back, hand going down to grab the knife you keep for protection.

“I wish to speak without the dragons breathing down our necks.” The woman stalks towards you, pulling her hood back. “Walk with me.”

You shakily return your dagger to its sheath, falling in step beside her. “What do you mean I must return?”

“We are all pieces of ourselves.”

“You keep saying that, but what does it mean,” you huff.

The witch stops, turning her head to meet your eyes. “Did you not think it odd that you entered this world in a familiar face and foreign body?”

A gasp catches in your throat, “so you mean there is another y/n? Is she in my world?”

The witch sighs, turning back to continue along the path. The godswood becomes denser the further you both walk, the path becoming overgrown as the trees close in. “It is complicated. There is another, but I know not where she is. She may be in your world, she may be trapped in another.”

A shiver runs down your spine. The logical part of you always knew there was another y/n here. One who fell in love and married Daemon and Rhaenyra all those years ago. One who raised children, attended balls, and rode dragons. “Can’t you wave some magic wand and find her?”

“No, but you can.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“You are as much the y/n of this world as she is of you,” the witch stops in front of a larger, gnarled tree. Her hands reach out to touch the face carved into the trunk. 

“The heart tree,” you breathe.

The witch grabs your hand, guiding you to press your palm to the trunk. “Focus and listen.”

You close your eyes, evening your breath. You hear seagulls crying as waves crashing against rock and feel wind biting against your skin. “My love, are you alright?” 

Your eyes blink open to see a younger Rhaenyra standing across from you, holding a flower crown. “Nyra?”

She grins, placing the flower crown on your head and pulling you in for a kiss. Her forehead rests against yours as her hands settle on your hips. “You are going to make a beautiful queen, y/n.”

Even though you want to wrap your arms around her, you find yourself unable to move. It’s as if you’re watching through the eyes of another as your body moves on its own. “Queen? My love I need no title as long as I am free to stay by your side.” You watch as your arms reach up to move the flower crown to Rhaenyra’s head.

You blink and the scenery shifts. Daemon and Rhaenyra face you, dressed in white and red robes. Red blood is smudged on their foreheads, a cup in their hands as they look at you expectantly. This must be when you were married to them both.

“Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo.” The language feels foreign on your tongue despite the months you had spent learning. Daemon and Rhaenyra’s y/n was definitely unfamiliar with the language.

“Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.” Daemon finishes.

Before you can kiss your bride and groom, the memory shifts again. “Rhaenyra what’s happening?! Where is my baby?” 

You’re screaming, tears streaming down your face. Rhaenyra is holding back tears, shaking her head. “Y/n, my love, I’m so sorry.” 

“I want to see her, where is she?! Where’s Visenya?!” 

“She didn’t make it,” Daemon says from his position behind you. Your knees buckle beneath you, almost dropping you to the ground. You feel Daemon’s arm loop around you, keeping you up.

The world shifts, and you’re now alone in your shared chambers in the red keep. Your head is pounding, the pain unbearable. Comparing it to a migraine would be an understatement. “I think I need to lie down,” you hear yourself say. As you climb into bed, you notice that you’re wearing the same shift as the day you arrived in this world. 

This time, you open your eyes to see the heart tree in front of you. Something is off though, the leaves are lighter and the sky is dark. You drop your palm from the trunk. “Take care of them for me.” Your head whips around as you hear a voice eerily similar to your own. 

“It’s you,” you breathe. Daemon and Rhaenyra’s y/n is standing behind you, dressed in the shift from the last memory. 

She nods, walking forward to grasp your hands. Her hands are cold to the touch. “I’m sorry for bringing you here, but I could not bear to leave them alone.”

“You brought me here?”

“I never woke up that morning,” she responds. “I know it is selfish of me to pull you from your world to take my place. If you wish to leave, you may. But I beg of you to reconsider.”

You wrap her into a hug, tears pricking your eyes. For the first time, you actually understood her. Her love, her pain, her loss. You want to tell her how much you love Daemon, Rhaenyra, and the kids. Nothing comes out, but you feel as though she can understand you without words. “You’ve given me so much.”

She pulls away from you, wiping your tears. “Thank you.” The wind picks up, blowing leaves between you both. She disappears as they pass. You reach out to ask her to wait, but your hand hits something hard. You’re back in the godswood, hand on the heart tree.

“What did you see?” the witch asks.

“Everything,” you breathe softly. Your hand drifts to your chest, as if you could soothe the pounding of your heart. “I saw everything.” 

“Where is she now? We must return you both.”

You shake your head. “She is gone. She asked me to stay.” 

“You cannot simply take the place of another. You do not belong here.” 

“We are all pieces of ourselves,” you say, throwing the witch’s own words back to her. She sighs, shaking her head. 

“Surely there is something, someone, in your world that you would miss,” she offers. “Are you sure that you would leave all of that behind to stay here?”

You hesitate. As much as you love your family here, you had never considered the possibility that going home was an option. Would you really be able to give up your former life for the family you found here? 

“I don’t have much there,” you answer. “My past is done, and my future is here.”

She nods, “I understand. If you reconsider, return to the godswood. I will be waiting.” 

“Thank you.” 

The witch waves you away. “Return to your dragons, they are looking for you.”

As she waves her hand, the quiet of the godswood is cut short as you hear several people yelling your name. Daemon and Rhaenyra must be looking for you. “I’m here!”

NOTE: Thank you all for being so patient! Happy HOTD Sunday! Y/N has the option to stay or go? What will she do? It looks like she is going to stay.....for now.... Also, there are some ppl who I can’t tag, so if you’re listed and the tag list and not receiving notifications, please check that your settings are on “allow this blog to appear in search results” or message me if I messed up the spelling! ~ Lacie <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra , @avalyaaa , @angeliccss , @clocksonthewall79 , @sia2raw , @forma-lina , @lorarri , @imoonkiss , @ba6ysworld , @abaker74 , @aniisbavk1, @different-tale-student , @cruelladevil4,  @ronswhoree, @Lbl252003, @18dmlk, @beca2468 , @hnm-mika , @brocomegetyobitch, @pendejalian , @xoxoluvs-world, @lexasaurs634 , @jaydemon99 , @lovelyy-moonlight , @lavender2ari, @katiemars, @waitaminuteashh , @Judgementdayfan1, @shadyloveobject, @winterrnight , @malfoycassimalfoy , @Gracielacie, @serenitytomothings, @xoxo-shiyah, @Aoi_targaryen, @ghostlyvoidydragon , @spacexdrago , @asgardian1023 , @madamevirgo , @ahyespubes , @cowboybaby2 , @sm3156 , @ashlatano7567 , @cheat2tea , @kmatrixx1130 , @babygallori-38, @nicksolemlyswears, @jubilee40 , @dimue , @coolmantha921, @ynbutbetter , @macaulaytwins , @idk-idk-idk-idk23 , @lavender2ari

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[weebsinstash]

You know, that reblog was to the wrong blog and it took me a while to notice but uhhh

I know in my heart of hearts that a yandere Laios would be a 200% certified goddamn FREAK

There would be no winning with this man. Beat him up? That's hot! Wow you're so strong, tell him all about the techniques you used and where you learned them! Ignore him? He couldn't recognize a cold shoulder if he was in the arctic. Be nice to him? why do you think that would make this golden retriever any less attached to you

This man. This fucking guy. Saying the most out of pocket inappropriate weird fucking shit. Senshi could be over here, "we ran out of that minotaur blood we were making sauce and marinades with" and Laios with his full chest would say, "Oh, oh, Y/N is on their period, can we use that?!" and Marcille has to give him a good whack with her cane and let him know Hey Dude That's Legit Gross

I will humble myself and say I haven't. Hm. Actually started watching the show but I feel like you'd be sitting there with your fucking, dryad porridge or whatever, and the rest of the crew is having Weird Ass Discussions about you In Front Of You and they're being like, scientific about it yeah but, it's still fucking weird

"Yeah, so, Y/N's stomach is cramping because unlike other mammals, humans actually shed their entire uterine lining when they have a menstrual cycle--"

"Oh wow and you mean they're gonna start ovulating afterwards?"

"You know, some cultures believe that consuming the placenta after giving birth has actual health benefits--"

*dragon ball z narrator voice* the gang has eaten cockatrice, minotaur, living armor, but are they ready to dig deep and find the strength within themselves to eat the most challenging but succulent meat of all: ASS? Find out next time on Delicious in Dungeon--

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #29

MC: I love bears they’re so fucking big and dumb

Leviathan: I thought you were a lesbian?

MC: I am talking about the animal!!!!!!!!!!!!

Satan: This is kind of the opposite of straight people forgetting gays exist

•

Beelzebub: *me inhaling pure Neon into my body by sucking it out of an ‘open’ sign at a store: Hhhhhhhhh

Satan: Wtf

Beelzebub: I felt I was pretty clear

•

Mammon: Guy about to invent mayonnaise: damn I wish this sandwich tasted bad :/

Solomon: Op’s never had pizza with mayonnaise

Mammon: OP’s never throttled someone to death with their bare hands either but unlike what you said, that can change any second

•

Asmodeus: When in doubt slap His ass

Simeon: His is capitalized….are you talking about god’s ass?

Mammon: Are you in doubt? Just slap His ass

•

Mammon: Not to sound like a dr*gon but I do want your gold and I am going to lay on top of it in a pile inside a cave

Diavolo: Why did you censor dragon?

Mammon: Townsfolk may find it scary

•

MC: Killed a spider n now I feel bad :/

Mammon: Give birth to a spider to make up for it

Mammon: Why did I say that?

MC: Why did you say that

•

Luke: Hey everyone it’s 5:30 pm

Solomon: It’s 8:24 where I am

Luke: I decide the rules

Mammon: Rules are more like guidelines, fool

•

Asmodeus: How sharp is your knife (flirting)

Solomon: Come find out (flirting intensifies)

•

Diavolo: When people start having long random conversations on my posts, my initial thought is “I’m glad these two are having a nice talk” but then I investigate further and almost 100% of the time they’re both horny and role playing historical figures

Diavolo: You all wish I was joking

•

Solomon: 2025 bullies be like “give me your lunch coins or I’ll unsub from your dad’s onlyfans”

Leviathan: Posts that can cause physic damage

•

Satan: I am sending pain vibes your way. You will feel a lil discomfort on your leg

Mammon: Ouch

Satan: Yeah

•

Luke: What happens when you become tumblr famous?

Leviathan: So much happens

Simeon: Like what?

Solomon: So much??? God did you even read the post

Leviathan: Get his ass

•

Simeon: The best fruits are hardest to open

Beelzebub: This fucking bowling ball is gonna be delicious I know it

•

Solomon: YMCA but instead of young man they say comrade and YMCA is USSR

MC: Comrade, steel production is down

Solomon: I said comrade, you must sleep on the ground

•

Diavolo: You think I have a choice? I have to be real

Mammon: This isolated message makes me feel like I’m about to be shot and killed

MC: This reminds me of grandma

Mammon: Hi! What does this mean?

•

Thirteen: God I wish there was a wasteland I could banish people to

Mammon: It’s the afterlife, sis

Thirteen: You’re right! I could simply murder and kill the people I don’t like! Why didn’t I think of this?

•

Mammon: Want a gf but I ain’t prepared… I’ve not land to give, no cattle…

Last • Next

[cattonicdragon]

Man your work is great :D could you do Astrid hiccup tuffnut ruffnut and snotlout with a small jolly reader(4 feet tall) that riders screaming death or a titan wing catastrophic quaken.(I just like the this short joyful person next a GIANT creature that looks like it squash you like a bug it's just a bit funny to me XD)

Astrid,hiccup,the twins(separately) and snotlout x reader who’s a short ball of joy and rides a screaming death

Decided to do screaming death cus I love them

<<WARNINGS:abit of angst,snotlout not likeing spitelout,mentions of injuries(dragons mainly),snotlout needs a hug,spelling errors probally>>can you tell I don’t know how to do warnings?

HAS BEEN PROOF-READ

Astrid

She is absolutely stunned

Your so tiny.and yet you managed to tame the screaming death

She nearly had a heart attack the first time stormfly and the screaming death play fought,she still nearly dose after she gets used to them

She knows your screaming death won’t hurt stormfly,but as the good dragon rider she is she gets worried for her dragon

She may not admit it but she’s extremely cocky over the fact that one of the dragon riders on their side managed to tame the screaming death,with is defiantly no easy feat 💀

She genuinely questions you on how on earth you managed to tame the screaming death

She’s amused by the size difference between you and your dragon

Little ball of joy and a island destroying demon/pos

Due to your small size she can easily pick you up

She picks you up under your arms and you can only dangle there

You’ll just have to hope your screaming death is feeling nice and might scare Astrid to put you down

Don’t think you being small is all fun though.

Is stormfly is particularly pissed off by the screaming death she will pick you up by the scruff of the neck and run/fly off with you

A chase will ensue,that may or may not have to end up with hiccup and/or having to sort it out

She admires how you can stay so sweet and joyful

She may or may not admit it but she adores your personality,in hard times you can seem like a bright light in a endlessly dark hallway,and she couldn’t be more grateful

Hiccup

Also nearly has a heart attack

The screaming death defiantly had some bad blood with him and toothless

But with you,it’s like a big cat/dog and almost completely docile

How?

Ok well maybe the fact that he made the screaming death plummet face first into a rock wouldn’t help

Your tinny compared to hiccup and even tinier compared to the screaming death

He worries that you may become a large target for dragon hunters

Toothless and the screaming death,don’t exactly get along

I mean years of hatred and bad blood isn’t going to fix easily…

But the you and hiccup will find them curled up together

You don’t understand them but that’s ok

He asks if he can examine the screaming death,or maybe ride it.riding is a less likely option though 💀

He will wince or cringe if he sees any scars or damage he may have caused

He can relate to you being positive and joyful alot

But can also be abit jealous,how can you stay so joyful even in some of the most stressfull situations

He’s so unimaginabley grateful that your there for him during the entire time

You decrease his stress tones

It also feels like a weight off of his shoulders with the burden of having such a great relationship with a endangered and powerful dragon,you’ll stick together and get through it though

He also picks you up,and makes fun of your height.

Ruffnut

Probally one of the only ones who dosnt almost have a heart attack

If anything she’s jealous that you managed to tame such a cool and destructive dragon

Begs asks if she can have a ride just one please?

Will try everything and anything with the screaming death

You will need to supervise 24/7 sorry not sorry

She brags about you all the time

She loves your short size and will toss you over her shoulder/hold you like a log

She’s teases you about your size WAY to much,please tell her to put a sock in it T.T

Barf,belch and the screaming death become the faces of Loki day

Barf and belches personality might have slightly affected your dragon but oh well

Loves to cause distruction with you

If you don’t go on a mission she’s not going either,even if tuffnut begs.

She enjoys your joyful personality and loves that there’s someone that slightly carefree

She also feels like she can be more reckless now that there’s a island destroying dragon on the riders team

You will have to keep an eye on her,or lecture her.either works

Will Loki you hard,unless the screaming death is around.she dosnt want to become 🧀 today thanks

Tuffnut

Also dosnt get a heart attack

Instead he gets destructive zoomies

He begs you,like hands and knees and everything

For one chance to either ride or cause destruction with the screaming death

Jokes on you though if you say yes to either,the other will happen anyways.there’s no winning in this situation sorry

Surprisingly knows when to give the screaming death space

He’s reckless but sensible

Will bribe the screaming death to go on destructive trips constantly

He makes fun of your height,more than ruffnut

Chiken and the screaming death surprisingly get along the best,unlikely but wholesome friendship for the win

Chiken by proxy loves you a lot aswell

So if tuffnut loses chiken he checks you and the screaming death basically first

Somehow carries around a stall with him so you can get to high places when need be

Will kick ruffnut off barf and belch for a ride if you asked

Man Is whipped for you

Don’t leave tuffnut alone with the screaming death though,either he or someone else will die

He at some point becomes something of a second rider to the screaming death,it’s a lot of bribing and treats though and also the fact that he encourages the screaming deaths destructive tendencies

He likes your joyful ness,will also try to bribe you to help him get out of situations he gets himself into

Snotlout

Probally faints during first encounter

Is very worried for everyone’s saftey,it’s a similar situation as to when they took in the injured singetail

Complains a lot about the fact that allowed to bring the SCREAMING DEATH to berk/the edge

He admires you Aton

Your short,shorter then him and look at you go!

Gets a bit jealous of you and may think he’s not good enough

Give him a hug :(

One time during the longest day he ended up snuggling against the screaming death,and survived.after that day they grew abit closer which was sweet

He enjoys your optimism and it’s a good balance since he can be abit pessimistic sometimes

If his dad ever comes to visit and your around he finds himself gravitating towards you,he feels safe with you

Hook fang and the screaming death like tug of war.why?,who knows

They like to play catch with each other aswell,again no idea why

He asks if you want to ride with him and hookfang quite a lot,it’s his way of non verbally getting recognition and validation

He finds himself being a lot less pessimistic when your around and just in general,your jolly personality is infective and effective

He likes to just hug you when he’s feeling down of tired

He picks you up places you in places where you can’t get down easily

He pisses off the screaming death.quite a lot

He likes writing books for you and indulging in your hobbies aswell

Shows you off a ton,as long as you don’t mind though,he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

He likes knitting things for you

He also likes it when you both are in the same room,you can be doing something different or even just being quiet,as long as your there he doesn’t mind

He likes to spar alot aswell,but he never lets it get to the point where either of you get hurt

He’s very protective of you despite the fact he dosnt really need to be

He just cares alot

[yournowheregirl]

Eddie used to be a pretty fearless person.

He ran red lights almost on the daily, provoked his bullies while his bruises from the last run-in were still healing and agreed to shady drug deals in the dead of night.

Having a kid changed all that.

As soon as Hayley was born, Eddie found himself riddled with anxiety every waking moment of the day. Scared to drop her, scared she’d get sick, scared she’d break something, scared that someone’d take her from the playground if he looked away for just one second. Even Wayne had to pry Hayley out of his arms when he had to go back to work and assure him that everything would be fine.

Lucky for Eddie, none of those fears ever came true. Until today.

They’d just gone through Hayley’s night time routine - reading a chapter of that Narnia book Jeff had gotten her, singing her good night song together, kissing her forehead and sharing I love you's - and Eddie’s about to close her bedroom door when Hayley’s squeaky voice suddenly speaks up.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, sweet pea?”

“I wanna join the soccer team.”

And just like that, with six little words, one of Eddie’s personal horrors suddenly becomes a reality.

His daughter is a jock.

“Uh, let’s… let’s talk about that in the morning, okay? Sleep tight!” Eddie says quickly and closes the door behind him.

As soon as he knows Hayley’s fast asleep, he dials one of the two numbers he knows by heart.

“Hello?"

“What have you done to my daughter?” Eddie seethes.

“Well, hi to you too, Eddie.” Chrissy says on the other side of the line. “What’s up?”

“Hayley wants to join the soccer team and it’s all your fault, Chris!” Eddie is pacing up and down his living room now, trying to calm himself down without reaching for his cigarettes - he quit when Hayley was born and this is not going to be the reason that’ll end his seven year streak.

“And how is that my fault, exactly?”

“You- you have poisoned her mind with your jock ways! Hayley isn’t a jock! She likes dragons and castles and fantasy worlds, as is her right as my daughter. I mean, her middle name is Arwen for fuck’s sake, being a nerd is in her goddamn DNA!”

“Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Chrissy says calmly. “Hayley’s always been a curious kid, it’s in her nature. She always wants to try new things and then move on to the next big thing. Remember how she wanted to become a drummer after she saw Gareth play? And then she abandoned the drum kit after two weeks?”

“Right.”

“Maybe this is just another phase, maybe she overheard some classmates and wanted to join in on the fun.” Chrissy says. “Just take her to try outs and see what happens, there’s always a chance she doesn’t like it.”

Eddie lets himself fall onto the couch. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in defeat. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“I’m always right, Eddie, how have you not learned this yet?” Chrissy giggles.

Which is how Eddie finds himself waking up at the crack of dawn that next Saturday. Well, he was supposed to sleep in for another thirty minutes or so but Hayley was so excited about try-outs that her high pitched screams and jumping on his bed woke him up regardless.

Hayley’s excitement carries on during breakfast and she barely keeps still as Eddie braids her hair. She’s even dead serious about the color of her hair ties, saying that they have to match the colors of the soccer team (aptly named the Purple Cobras, so obviously the hair ties have to be purple as well).

And any other morning, Eddie is trailing behind his daughter, making sure she hurries up so they’ll get to school on time, but not today. Now, she’s already got her coat on and bouncing from one foot to another in the hallway and calling him out instead.

“Dad, come on!” Hayley whines. “We’re gonna be late.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Eddie huffs as he puts on his trusty leather jacket - if he’s gonna freeze his balls off by being outside all morning, at least he’s gonna do it in style. He can’t help but laugh at Hayley, who’s now jumping up and down from excitement. “Geez, you better save some energy for the try-outs.”

“Can we go now?” Hayley sighs and scrunches her nose in annoyance and yeah, she really is his kid.

“One ride in the Munson Mobile, coming right up!”

Hayley doesn’t shut up about the intricacies of soccer the entire drive to the local soccer club, apparently Chrissy (the traitor) had helped her read up on the rules and now obviously Eddie had to know all about them as well.

Half of what Hayley’s saying flies over his head, partly because he’s never really cared for sports but mostly because he can feel his anxiety growing with every passing second.

What if Hayley gets injured? What if some tackles her and she breaks her leg? Or worse?

What if she is an amazing player and she needs all these fancy soccer supplies and training clinics and Eddie’s forced to get another job to just to keep them afloat?

What if she’s weak at sports, just like Eddie was while growing up, and all the other kids will make fun of her and laugh behind her back?

What if-

“Dad, look, we’re here!”

The van barely comes to a screeching halt and Hayley’s already halfway out the door when Eddie grabs her by the collar and pulls her back into her seat. This obviously annoys Hayley, judging by the furious look on her face. If Eddie was a weaker man, he would’ve cowered in fear, but he invented that look so he barely feels a thing.

“Sweet pea, listen to your dear old dad for a minute, alright?” Eddie says softly. “I know you really wanna be on the soccer team but it’s still okay if you don’t make the team, you know that right? I won’t love you any less if you don’t make it or you don’t like it, just try your best, okay?”

Hayley’s face turns serious, as if the words are slowly sinking in. “Okay.”

“Pinky promise?” Eddie asks, holding out his pinky finger. Within a split second, Hayley’s tiny finger links around him and she sends him a toothy smile.

“Pinky promise.”

“C’mon, let’s kick these kids’ butts!”

Hayley giggles. “You’re supposed to kick the ball, dad.”

“Oh, right, silly me.” Eddie grins and follows his daughter outside.

But right as his anxiety has died down, it comes flooding right back as soon as Eddie lays eyes on the soccer field. There are so many kids. So many balls being kicked at full speed, with no time to duck. So many sneering soccer moms who look at him like he’s the devil incarnate. So many dangers just waiting around the corner and Eddie just want to turn on his heel and run. Hayley’s inevitable temper tantrum be damned, at least she’ll be in one piece and-

“Hayley Arwen Munson?”

Both Eddie and Hayley whip their heads around at the same time, only to be greeted by one of the coaches and shit- Eddie’s suddenly very interested in soccer.

With a chiseled jaw, soft hazel eyes and broad shoulders, the coach looks like he belongs in a Calvin Klein ad rather than a little league soccer field. He’s wearing a wind breaker, white knee socks and bright purple shorts (that cling deliciously tight around his thighs), which shouldn’t work on him but it does and Eddie just can’t look away.

Hayley (thankfully) doesn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil and instead happily waves at Hot Coach. “Over here!”

The coach writes something on the clipboard and walks towards them, crouching down in front of Hayley. “Hi Hayley, I’m coach Steve, nice to meet you. You here to try out for the soccer team?”

“Yes!” Hayley replies brightly.

“Well good, you can say hi to coach Robin and the other girls and I’ll be there in a sec, okay?”

“Okay.” Hayley nods and turns to Eddie. “Bye dad!”

“Hold up, hold up, hold up.” Eddie says quickly, once again grabbing the back of her t-shirt to keep her from running off. He kneels down in front of her, trying to look her in the eye. “Be careful, okay, baby? And if you don’t like it you can just yell and I come and get you, no questions asked. And if your laces get loose, you can yell too, literally if anything goes wrong you can-”

“Dad…” Hayley interrupts him and puts her tiny hand onto his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Eddie laughs and ducks his head. God, this is like kindergarten all over again, when Hayley just skipped to Miss Coleman without a care in the world and Eddie was sobbing into Wayne’s shoulder as he watched her go.

“I know it will be, sweet pea.” Eddie says softly, pressing a kiss to Hayley’s forehead. She takes that as her cue to go, skipping across the field towards the gaggle of girls that surround another one of the coaches.

Eddie feels his heart burst as he sees Hayley smiling as she greets the other girls, she seems to fit right in. He sighs deeply and stands up, trying to keep his eyes on Hayley, when a voice suddenly speaks up.

“Arwen.”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps because shit, he totally forgot that Coach Steve was still there as well. “Yeah, she’s named Arwen. What about it?"

Eddie wants to eat his foot as soon as he utters the words. He’s always been defensive when it comes to Hayley, being a single dad who doesn’t look like your standard suburban dad next door will do that to you. But to do it in front of a cute guy like that? It makes him want to kick himself. Repeatedly.

But much to his surprise, Steve doesn’t seem to mind all that much. In fact, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips. “That’s from Lord of the Rings, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Eddie replies dumbly. He feels his walls lowering down - holy shit, this Steve guy is hot and he knows Lord of the Rings? If they weren’t around a bunch of kids right now, Eddie would’ve dropped to his knees already.

“Cute.” Steve chuckles and are Eddie’s eyes deceiving him or is Steve actually checking him out? Before he gets a chance to wrap his head around all that, Steve gestures back to the field. “Well, I gotta jet. Soccer waits for no one. See you around, Mr. Munson.”

“Ew, no. Mr. Munson is my dad.” Eddie winces, remembering all the times his neighbor growing up came by to help Wayne out and refuses to call him by his first name. “I’m Eddie.”

“Well then,” Steve smirks as he walks backwards. “see you around, Eddie.”

As Eddie tries to look like a normal human being instead of a total creep - which proves to be terribly difficult when Steve turns around and puts his ass on fully display in those damn shorts - he slowly begins to realize one thing.

Maybe Hayley’s decision to join the soccer team is the best idea she had in a long time.

[mangyraccooon]

Thoughts about Modern day Dragon him being a late diagnosed autistic

Dragon would be one of those people who knew they were different from a young age but never could figure it out because either parents (who didn’t want a ‘different’ child) or becoming so high masking that it was very difficult to tell. (Probably a mix of both)

When Dragon is 40ish he takes luffy to the doctor for a routine checkup.

The doctor tells him his son is most likely autistic.

She also tells him it’s an inherited trait

Dragons reaction is “ah.”

He never thought luffy was different. That wasn’t true he understood luffy was different but it wasn’t a bad thing in his eyes.

Unknowingly at 7 years old dragon put on a mask. It starts to crack 33 years later in a doctor’s office.

The doctor gives him some pamphlets and online resources to go through. He spends the next 24 hours going through it all + several online quizzes.

Only the next morning when he opens his closet fully prepared to go into work: when he sees all his shirts and suit jackets. That he realizes he has no idea who the fuck he is as a person.

Luffy finds him crying in a mess of ripped silks and cotton.

Luffy crawls into his lap and starts telling him about a new beetle species found in South America.

Dragon calls them both in sick and lets his son decide the schedule for the day.

Later that night he goes through old boxes in the attic. Trying to find who the fuck he is- was- could’ve been.

He finds a couple old albums, his guitar, luffys baby blanket and…

Crying is natural and normal, he has to tell himself. You are not weak for crying twice in one day.

The ring is old, it was his mother’s. It had been left with his secretary along with luffy asleep in his bassinet.

“Sometimes I feel like you just put on this face and I don’t even know which one is the real you; or if there is a real you”

He would never know how right he had been.

Dragon quits his job; he can’t stand it anymore. The partners beg him to stay, he’s the best lawyer they have. But the feeling of a suit collar now feels like a noose.

Borsalino is the only one who still contacts him after.

Dragon has money; so much money. Other than luffy and silk shirts that didn’t scrape his skin there was very little dragon spent money on.

So he glides, spends more time with luffy. Falls into a depressive episode so bad he has to stay with his mother. Tsuru purses her lips when he tells her and dragon can’t help but feel a little angry.

“You knew.”

“I suspected.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed to be fine.”

But dragon hadn’t been fine, he had been miserable. It was only now he could see how miserable he had been.

He cooks with his step mother who teaches him how to make a puff pastry. Luffy meets a boy down the street who also loves bugs. Life goes on.

Luffy gets a assessment and official diagnosis

The adhd part wasn’t that surprising to Dragon or anyone within 5 seconds of meeting luffy. his son is (affectionately) a human bounce ball.

Dragon gets an official diagnosis and sends a photo of him posing with it to borsalino. Borsalino sends a photo of himself and an online quiz. And dragon understands not everyone needs the word of a doctor to know who they are.

Garp barges into his life and demands he “stop being a freeloader and get a job.” Before flopping on the couch and doing just that.

Dragon gets the drag bar gig out of spite. Iva is the best worst thing that has ever happened to him. After finding out he knew guitar the queen needled him until he started practicing again out of spite (once again he had to stop using that as motivation)

The guitar strings cut at his fingertips.

Garp sets him up on a blind date, which ends with both him and rouge laughing themselves silly. Apparently garp had taken dragons “I like dick” comment to mean anyone who was in possession of a penis (even if it was silicone.)

He turns 42 and has to valiantly fend off Luffy, Ace and Rouge from eating his rack of ribs.

Iva gets him up on stage eventually (he was fine behind the bar)

He did like the eyeliner though and how his shoulders looked in the dress (but that was a thought for another day)

The band thing was a joke (or started as one) rouge sang, dragon played bass, iva played electric and kuma drummed his heart out.

Then it became less of a joke.

It was late, the porch was empty and the moon twinkled. Dragon cradled the phone in his hands. They had gotten a record deal.

He punched in the number slowly.

He was 45 now, he could do this.

The phone rang as he held it up to his ear.

His palms were sweaty.

Voicemail

“I uh-“ what was he supposed to say? “Hi, it’s been awhile. A long time actually- fuck I think I could tell you the exact date if I wasn’t drunk. But- you probably dont want to hear that huh?” He laughed, his breath coming out in a small cloud in the autumn air.

“So a lot happened, since you left. And I don’t blame you for leaving- just so we are clear. Yeah uhmm. So the band. I’m part of a band now surprise! We got a record deal and it made me realize I still- well that is, when I was told. I realized, your the only one I wanted to tell”

“And not in a bragging way!” He added hastily

A beeping noise, indicating the end of the message

“Wani I-“

But the message ended

-should I make this into an actual thing? Lemme know

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜

John: "one of the funnier quirks of game dev is you will never remember missions by their real names but instead by the name you called them by for several years of development it will never be 'In Your Heart Shall Burn' for me, it'll always be Setback" [source] / Blair: "there was that awkward period where half of the DA:V ones had "gods" in the title, so discussions were always some variant of: "Did you mean 'Gods Are Back' or 'Gods Are Bad'? I've heard people mention 'Egads! Gods!' but I'm not sure if that's new or a rework."" [source] / Malcolm (in reply to John): "I have one like this in DA:Ve and I can't share it yet because spoilers but I promise you it's delightful" [source]

John: "the only one i can ever remember is 'Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts' and it's because it seems to be the only DAI mission that people constantly reference by name online" [source] / Mary: "It's proper name is "Ham Ball." I put that in the file names, even." [source]

John: "idk how widely it’s been advertised but a reminder we are doing another Veilguard Q&A on Discord this Friday noon Mountain time (so 11 Pacific)" [source] / Malcolm: "Make sure you don't tell them about that one thing that happens in that place, with the guy." [source]

Trick: "BioWare released a new screenshot of Taash! I love how it captures the amazing detail work the character artists did." [source]

Image description on the Taash screenshot in Trick's post of the cap:

"A screenshot of Taash looking off to the side. The lighting is warm like either late afternoon or an interior with a fireplace, and it catches in the gold on Taash's armor and horns. Taash looks pensive or vulnerable -- not the deadpan stare or badass determination we've seen in other shots."

pensive or vulnerable.. ohh Taash. 🥺 Trick!!

User on the screenshot: "Taash looks *completely the fuck over this shit* in a totally exhausted sort of way, here. which is, mind, amazing detail work on the character artists' party!!" / Trick: "You know, it's a spectrum." [source]

Trick on DA:I - "Miss May is amazing in many ways, and especially in finding the balance of sweetness to pain for the Solas scenes. ❤️" [source] ((thankyouuu Miss May!!))

User: "it must be basically impossible to resist putting at least one extra moon around your fantasy world" / John: "if dragon age didn’t already have two you’d better believe I would’ve added another one. sitting next to a dial titled ‘number of moons’ and every so often I add another one. anyways the thing about Satina is- (a large hook drags me offstage)" [source, two, three] ((omg.. THE SECOND MOON shfuehfuehdbdh)

User: "i've been thinking about bellara's pockets and i need to know what her thoughts on cargo pants would be. would she be a fan for the utility." / John: "she wouldn't wear them all the time - she's a firm believer in a distinction between 'work clothes' and 'at home clothes' - but she is always in search of more pockets to carry more things into the field. she'd own at least three pairs" [source]

User: "The next two months are going to feel like the Fade section in DAO 😭" / Dragon Age: "Good thing we have a Veil Jumper to help you out! 💜" [source]

User: "MY SON LOOKS SO CUTE" (re: the new pic of Manfred from today) / Dragon Age: "MY BOY MANFRED 💀💚" [source]

User: "Can we change the armor/gear on our companions?" / Dragon Age: "You can!" [source]

User: "thank you for the food 🙏🙏🙏" / Dragon Age: "Enjoy your meal!" [source]

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 14 - Secrets and Sapphires

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Maris’ anger had not diminished in your absence, and she was certainly glad of the thunderous scolding you received from your father.

His finger pointing, his voice booming so loudly you imagine half the keep can hear it.

Stupid, careless, girl.

He was right, you had been careless. You’d lost yourself in Aemond’s company and what could be more careless than that?  

Except, that wasn’t why he was angry. You'd gone missing for hours and your mothers' cheeks were still stained with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, and you mean it, “I won’t let it happen again.” 

“You shouldn’t even let her join us in the hall tonight!” Maris pipes in when the shouting has dwindled down to a halt, her eyes narrowed and vengeful.  

But her attempt at siding with your father is soon thwarted because Borros Baratheon doles out the punishments, not his daughters, and a fresh wave of anger washes over him. 

“Quiet girl!” he snaps, before returning his attention back to you, his voice booming again, “you’ll get changed and you’ll do it quickly or so help me!”  

You don't need to be told twice, and rush to your room, pulling a yellow gown from your armoire before thinking better of it.  

Maris already thought you were trying to steal Aemond and, in her mind, yellow was the colour to do it in. So, you reach for the sapphire blue, making tonight its third outing of the summer and perhaps its final one too.   

You’re still fiddling with the tiny buttons when Cassandra sneaks into your room with a pitying look.  

She sits patiently on the bed, waiting for you to finish before picking up your brush and nudging you onto the stool next to your vanity. 

“We can’t have you looking like this,” she says, her voice cheerful as she gently pulls the brush through all the knots which had formed in the rain. 

Trying not to wince each time she hits a snag, you sit quietly, miserably , worrying the skirt of your dress and wishing your father had forced you to stay behind.  

You're still shaken from the way his voice had boomed in your ears, and you’d rather curl up in a ball and cry, instead of facing an evening of polite conversation and Maris’ seemingly endless supply of anger.  

“She’ll get over it,” Cassandra says, and you know she’s right but that doesn’t make it any easier. If you could skip forward to a place where Maris didn’t hate you, you would, but there was no quick fix, only time.  

“And...” she begins, waiting for you to meet her eye in the mirror, “ I think we both know she never had a chance.”  

Heart suddenly in your throat, you look at your hands, hoping to hide any of the thoughts which may have escaped onto your face.  

But Cassandra doesn’t need any confirmation of what she already knows to be true. 

“I do not believe I’ve ever seen Prince Aemond look at Maris the way he looks at you,” she says, and you stiffen, it was exactly what the Queen had said at the tourney. 

“If you knew why , you would be ashamed to have me as your sister.” 

You look up from your hands just in time to see Cassandra’s eyes widen with horror, the brush stopping its progress.  

“Do not tell me you have given him your virtue?”   

“No! ” you say quickly, surprised by her suggestion.  

Though, for one brief moment, you can’t help but imagine what that would be like.  

High Valyrian rolling from his tongue, long fingers wrapping around your waist instead of books. Would his kiss be gentle, hesitant even? Just a soft, momentary press of lips to test your willing.  

Or would it be certain? Urgent? Would he push you up against the bookcases, hard and feverish, his lips devouring yours before finding the racing pulse at your neck, his hands moving from your waist, hitching up the skirts of your dress and-  

Clearing your throat, you banish the thought away, but not quickly enough. Your cheeks are more than a little flushed when you admit, “I met him before we came to court.”  

“Where ?” 

“On the beach below the keep.”  

She laughs, her brow knitted with confusion, “why didn’t you tell anyone?” 

“Because I was alone… and I was…” you hold your tongue, could you really tell her the truth?  

“I was swimming ,” you whisper, and it feels both cathartic and terrifying at the same time.  

Cassandra’s fingers fall from your hair altogether and you dare not look at her in the mirror. Instead, you turn to meet her, face to face, your heart pounding harder than before, your palms slick with sickening nerves. 

Yet, instead of shame you find anger, an emotion which barely ever registers on her face, and her voice is low, tense .  

“Did he hurt you?” she demands in a hushed whisper which is no less powerful than your fathers bellowing. 

“No ,” you gasp, knowing precisely what she is thinking as you reach to touch her arm and reassure her, “he only looked, but he has teased me about it all summer.” 

She laughs then, relieved , her hands returning to your hair. “No wonder he looks at you like that .” 

“Like what?” 

“Like he is constantly on the brink of kissing you.” 

Your cheeks flush yet again, but Cassandra’s tone hardens, scolding you. “You know you really should have told me this months ago. And Maris. How could she ever stand a chance when Prince Aemond had already fallen in love with you?” 

“He loves tormenting me, nothing more.”  

“If you say so,” Cassandra teases before shaking her head, “I still cannot believe you thought you could keep this a secret. Heavens, you can be so wilful sometimes.” 

“But you’ll promise not to tell anyone?” you say, desperately, and by ‘anyone’, you mean Maris. 

“We are sisters, your secrets are mine to keep, not to share,” she reassures, sliding the last pin into your hair and you relax, turning on the stool to hug her tightly.  

It was strange, but despite all your torment, you hadn’t realised just how much you’d needed such comfort until her arms were wrapping around your shoulders and she was kissing the top of your head.  

It was no secret that you and Cassandra had never been as close as you and Maris, who were like partners in crime compared to your perfect, angelic, older sister. But her embrace is so steadfast, that it seems impossible to imagine you could have any better friend or sister than her. 

“You know...” she starts, as you pull away from the embrace, “we never did get to the bottom of who sent us these gowns...” 

You look down at your dress, the sapphire bodice glimmering with gems, and she was right. After trying to thank Tyland Lannister, you hadn’t really wanted to think who could have bought them. Or why. 

“Helaena told me that when Aemond lost his eye, they offered to replace it with gold,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “he chose a sapphire instead.” 

“A sapphire?” you choke, picturing the way it might glitter beneath the patch across his eye. So beautiful, so radiant.  Just like your gown.  

Then you think of the times you’d wore the dress in front of him and feel as though you might be sick. From nerves, from anger, from the sheer audacity of the knowing smiles you’d seen on his face each time. 

Were you really wearing something he’d picked out?   

You didn’t want to believe it, but who else could afford such a thing?  

Who else would choose this exact shade of sapphire blue?  

Hurrying towards your armoire, you reach for the yellow gown once again but it's too late. Your father's voice is booming into your room and it's time to leave, whether you’re ready or not. 

Cursing the entire situation, you trail behind your family all the way to the hall, wondering how long it would take them to notice if you decided to slip away. If you hadn’t gone missing this afternoon, you would chance it, but you’re not sure you can withstand any more of your father's anger. 

Instead, you think, so what if Aemond chose your dress? It didn’t mean anything .  

Except, you can’t even hold that lie in your brain for more than a moment before it falls apart.  Because it did mean something. Everything he’d done meant something . 

He’d met you on the beach in spring and thought of you often enough to invite you here for summer, to choose the books on your nightstand, and purchase the most beautiful gown you’d ever seen, for no other purpose than to see you standing in a room wearing the exact shade of his eye.  

Yet, the same man who’d done all those things, had also stolen more than one look at your naked body, threatened all your suitors, toyed with Maris, told everyone you couldn’t dance, embarrassed you in front of his mother, and killed Ser Glover in cold blood. 

He was impulsive, arrogant and completely ignorant to anyone’s feelings but his own. You still hated him, a few hours in the library couldn’t change that.  

You could only pray that he would not be in the hall tonight because hating him and facing him were too very different things.  

Yet there he was. Across the room. A dark line of fine black leather, his eye meeting with yours, holding all your attention before it slowly sinks to your dress.  

The slightest twitch of a smile quivers at his lips, and you know, beyond any doubt, that he was the mysterious secret admirer who’d sent three gowns to the Baratheon sisters. One pink, one lilac and one sapphire blue. 

You swallow hard and he begins to move, abandoning the people he was in conversation with, his usual cocky gait carrying him quickly across the room and, more importantly, directly towards you.  

He’s already made it halfway before you jump into action. 

Seven hells!  

What was he thinking?  

He was Aemond Targaryen. When he walked, people watched.  

Maris watched.  

He couldn’t just walk right up to you like this. He wasn’t the kind of man who walked right up to anyone- unless he was threatening them.  

Breaking away from your family, you skirt around the edge of the room, and he changes direction. Another smile twitching at his lips, as though he’s enjoying the chase. But you’re not going far, just far enough so Maris cannot see past the crowds. 

You wait for Aemond by a thick stone column and, when he’s close enough, you push him behind it, so you can be hidden from all the prying eyes that might be watching.  

“We can find more privacy than this if you wish to have me alone, issa jorrāelagon,” he says, a devilish smirk now filling his cheeks entirely. 

You sigh sharply, “that is the last thing I want!”  

“Are you certain?” his gaze scrapes down, to where the tips of your fingers are still pressed against his chest, “then why are you pinning me against a wall?” 

Embarrassed , you snatch your hands away, knotting them behind your back, your heart thumping as he laughs, enjoying every ounce of your torment as per usual. 

Then you let out an exasperated sigh, wondering, yet again, how you’d spent so many hours with this man.  

“You cannot just walk right up to me in front of the entire room,” you warn and, though a small frown creases into his brow, amusement still holds sway over his face.  

“How else am I to ask you to dance?”  

“You cannot!” you exclaim tartly, appalled to think that was what he was planning on doing. “You cannot even speak to me in front of them. I forbid it .” 

“You forbid your prince?” 

“Yes , Maris hates me enough as it is and, if you consider yourself my friend , you will do no more harm between us.” 

At that, you try to leave, feeling you have already spent far too long with the most conspicuous man in the room, but his hand slides to your waist, holding you still. 

“Do you consider yourself my friend?” he asks, and you cannot think of anything more dangerous than friendship with a dragon, but you’d say anything to placate him. 

“We can be friends if you stay away from me.”  

He snorts, “that's a strange recipe for friendship, would you not say?” 

“Not if the friendship is already strange,” you retort before pulling away from his grasp and heading straight towards your family, only to be intercepted by Lord Boremund before you can even make it five paces. 

“Little cousin,” he says, taking your hand, “please allow me the honour of your first dance this evening.” 

You accept, glad to be away from Maris for as long as possible and surprised when Ser Robin asks for your next dance, then Lord Thorne for your third.  

It seemed Aemond had not only allowed Tyland Lannister to resume the pursuit of your hand, but half of court too. Yet, like Tyland Lannister, it only made these men seem both spineless and fickle. 

Were they all afraid of a dragon?   

So, instead of feeling pleased to be dancing with them, you find yourself feeling increasingly annoyed, and you’re not the only one. 

Throughout every turn you make around the floor, you see Aemond pacing the edges like a caged animal and three dances is all it takes before he breaks. 

He strides fast, unconcerned by the movement swirling to avoid him, and you watch his every step with both heart pounding surprise and gut-wrenching exasperation, as he sweeps into Lord Thorne’s place and steals your hand without a single word to the other man.  

“What are you doing?” You hiss under your breath, extremely conscious of the scene he is creating.  

“It seems I cannot be your friend, ” he retorts, but you hardly hear him, you’re too busy looking around. Pleased to see that people are not pointing or staring, and the dance is continuing as though nothing is amiss.  

It’s only Lord Thorne who looks out of place, his cheeks flushed with anger, his steps faltering as he tries to move around the other couples.  

At this point, you think it might actually draw more attention if you stop dancing, but that doesn’t mean you have to be happy about the situation. You’re so mad at Aemond, you could stamp on his stupid foot. 

“You could have at least waited for the next dance,” you scold, knowing you would have rejected his offer, if he had actually asked.  

“I want all your dances, including this one,” he says, leading you into a turn and when you’re facing him again, you glare, ensuring he knows that, despite your current actions, you’re still very much annoyed. 

“And you think nothing of what I want?” you say. It was not half an hour since you’d told him not to speak with you, let alone dance with you. Yet here you were, in his arms. 

“Would you rather dance with them instead of me ?” 

Words stick on your tongue, and you're glad for another turn, so you can think of an answer, because you can’t exactly tell him ‘no’ .  

You wouldn’t rather dance with them.  

Lord Boremund was your cousin, Ser Robin was far too tall, and Lord Thorne was perfectly fine and perfectly handsome, except his touch did not set your skin ablaze as Aemond’s did.  

You face him again, and you must say something, so you think of propriety and all the rules which had been drummed into your head since you were old enough to walk. “As an unmarried lady, I shall not be obliged to give special treatment to anyone, even his grace.” 

“Then marry me.” 

What?  

You’re so surprised, you can’t help but laugh, your mind spinning, your cheeks heating beyond reason. “ Be serious, ” you say, almost choking on the words as they splutter from your lips. 

“I am,” he replies with a low voice, and he isn’t joking. He’s waiting, wanting, but you cannot possibly give him the answer he craves. 

You cannot even speak as he draws you in, holding you far closer than any man should in a room full of people. One hand on your lower back, the other brushing the length of your arm before he curls his fingers into yours.  

If there had been butterflies in the library, there are dragons now. Hatching carelessly in the pit of your stomach. Hot and dangerous, long wings reaching to the very tips of your toes until you feel flimsy in his sturdy embrace. 

You open your mouth, but there are no words, and what’s left is far worse than any words could ever be. You hate the sound which pants breathlessly from your lips, soft, submissive , welcoming his advances wholeheartedly.  

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were enjoying this. But you’re not. You don’t want him. Not as a friend, not as a husband.  

Yet your eyes still graze his lips, and you find yourself wondering, for the second time in a single evening, what it would be like to be kissed by him. 

"Marry me, Lady Baratheon,” he says again, and you both miss a step in the dance, almost colliding with another couple, before you regain control of your senses and wedge your free hand between your chest and his. 

Gods. You cannot meet his eye.  

“You do not dance well enough for me to condemn myself to marriage,” you whisper, your voice strained, before you force another laugh to break the tension. 

If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it, his tone is still light, playful even. “Is it marriage you disapprove of, or your prince?”  

You breathe out another shaky breath, but your voice is a little stronger when you say, “I do not disapprove of marriage. ” Only dragons.  

Aemond’s huff of amusement is light, meant only for your ears, and you’re grateful when the dance requires you to break from his arms and weave between the other partners. 

Inhaling a lung full of air, you’re certain not to let him reel you in again. Instead, you hold yourself rigid, your palm pressed against his chest to prevent any further encroachment into the battlements you’re trying desperately to defend. 

“Now behave yourself or I shall be forced to return to my room, for yet another evening,” you warn, daring to meet his eye. 

“Good ,” he smiles triumphantly, seeming to enjoy the way you’re struggling to hold him at bay, “I shall meet you there.” 

“With the guard outside the door?” you say hotly, imagining the look on Ser Maurin’s face if Aemond tried to waltz into your room without a chaperone. 

He leans in harder, forcing your arm to cave against his strength, “I shall climb in through the window.” 

When you turn again, you jab his rib, not too hard but hard enough to make him wince and remind him how difficult climbing would be with such an injury, “I think not , and in any case, I shall bolt it to be certain.” 

He chuckles and, though you’re not looking at him, you can picture just how smug his smile must be as he says, “you imagine a bolt across a window could stop me?” 

“No ,” you glance back to meet his eye, “but I’d hope his grace would not force himself into someone’s company if they had asked him to stop .” 

The music finishes before he can reply, and all the other couples break away with bows and curtsies to find someone new. 

But not you and Aemond. Aemond wants all your dances, and he does not relinquish control of your hand despite your efforts. He holds it tight, possessive, and you can feel as people begin to stare.  

“I shall scream if you do not let me go this instant,” you hiss under your breath, trying to remain composed. 

His jaw tightens, frustration seeming to cling to every muscle in his body just as he loosens his grip, sliding his hand behind his back so his stance is as formal as it is unyielding. 

When you turn to leave, you notice Maris who’s been staring at the whole scene with daggers instead of eyes.  

“If you truly care about me at all,” you begin, purposely avoiding his gaze, “you will ask someone else to dance this instant or I fear Maris will never forgive me.” 

Aemond snorts, “when you are here and she is in Storms End, it will not matter what she thinks.” 

“It matters to me!” you say, a little too loudly, but you’re so painfully annoyed with him that you can hardly be expected to contain your temper, “not that you seem to think of anything but your own selfish desires.” 

When you walk away, you feel him step to follow before he hesitates and turns on his heel to walk in the opposite direction.  

Not that you dare to look back or feel any relief that he has not followed you, you’re too anxious for that.  

Instead, you make it to where your sisters are standing with Belis, and Maris laughs as she says, “it seems Prince Aemond is pitying all the wallflowers with a dance this evening.” 

Then you do look at him and, just as you’d asked, he’s escorting another to the floor. Lady Staunten, who’d not danced all summer and seemed more terrified than pleased to be in his company. 

“Shall we take a turn of the room?” Cassandra offers with a warm smile and you’re grateful for another opportunity to leave Maris’ bad mood behind. 

“Did you ask him about the dress?” she says, when you are far enough away from the others and, quite honestly, you’d forgotten about the dress altogether.  

But you don’t say that, or anything, you’re too distracted, craning your neck to watch Aemond as he moves methodically across the floor, as though the dance holds no joy, only steps.  

Did he really just ask you to marry him?  

It was such a surprise, it felt like you could have imagined the whole thing. In fact, you wish you had imagined it. Then you wouldn’t have to think about it, and you were quite certain you could think of little else. 

It wasn’t every day a man asked you such a question- o r ever. But you couldn’t be entirely sure of Aemond’s motives. Did he truly want marriage and all that it entailed, or was it just another hot-headed impulse?  

Though you suppose none of that really mattered, since there were no circumstances in which you would agree to be his wife. Even if he wasn’t the most arrogant man in the world, he was still a Targaryen, and they were a strange family with even stranger proclivities.  

Yet, by the time you’ve walked an entire circle of the room, he’s asking another wallflower to dance, and you feel the unmistakable claw of envy, scratching at your skin. 

You turn away, wanting to forget about him but there was really no forgetting Aemond Targaryen. 

There wasn’t even safety in the bosom of your family. There was Alicent, talking to your mother with a coy smile and, for one heart stopping moment, you wonder if she knows . If they both know. 

Because marriage would not be a choice if your mother was involved. There would be no question about it, you’d be given to the crown without a single thought for your wishes, and that would be that .  

“Ah, Lady Baratheon,” Alicent says, noticing the way you’re lingering in her periphery.  

You curtsy politely, heart pounding as she waves her hand to beckon you closer.   

“We were just discussing how pleasant it would be to enjoy the last days of summer with a picnic in the Kingswood. Do you ride?”  

“Yes ." You even enjoyed it under usual circumstances.  

"Good,” she laughs, the curls in her hair bouncing with the movement, “there is not much room in the wheelhouse for so many ladies and the fresh air will give you vigour.”  

You start, thinking your mother might have something to say about the suggestion but she’s nodding along with the Queen. “You mean for me to ride all the way to the Kingswood?” you confirm, thinking it an unlikely ask for a high borne lady. 

“I’m sure one of the men will keep you company,” Alicent says as though it's the most natural thing in the world. But what she means is, Aemond will keep you company . 

Without thinking, you turn to look at him, annoyed that you cannot seem to retain autonomy over your own gaze, which seems intent to seek him out despite your wishes. 

When you turn back to look at Alicent, her smile reminds you so much of her son that you almost tell her to hell with the Kingswood and to hell with Aemond. But you’re sure your mother would have some choice words if you humiliated her in front of the Queen. 

So, you return her smile, thanking The Seven that Alicent has no idea her son just asked you to marry him. But she’s expecting it, you can see it on her face.  

What had Aemond said in the library? 

That she would finally think he was consenting to giving her a grandchild. Well, you aren’t consenting. As far as you were concerned, you had two older sisters and it was only proper that they should marry first. 

~~~

Thank you for reading!

[schoenht]

↳ dust of the stars in their eyes

character: lilia vanrouge

synopsis: cinderella au (the musical version)

a/n: TO MY BELOVEDEST @linabirb I HAVE FINISHED PART ONE OF YOUR LATE BDAY PRESENT </3 ILY LOTS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY !!! I'LL BE WRITING PART TWO VERY SOON I'VE BEEN SUPER EXCITED TO WRITE THIS SINCE I'VE BEEN OVER THERE

No one truly understood the woes of being the prince with pressures of becoming the next king. All the kingly duties and having to uphold the kingly stature when Lilia Vanrouge only wanted to slide across halls in his socks with his advisors, who joined a lot of the time. The loss of himself when he thought too much about who he was. On the surface, he was the prince, but deep down? He couldn't fathom understanding himself past the fun times that he granted himself. Slaying dragons, sliding across the halls, that was what created a life supposedly worth living for him.

Today, however, did not follow the usual exciting schedule.

Kalim walked in with a scroll in his hand. "Your Majesticness, we have to fulfill your father's wishes!"

Lilia smiled, an elfish grin that made him look so innocent when it was not-so-secretly full of mischief. "Which wish? The one where you and Cater dangle me from the ceiling as we pretend to be thieves taking the crown?"

The white haired male knew exactly what he was talking about. Their plans were jubilant, if not occasionally lethal at times. But Lilia seemed to always get back up after falling from several feet high. After all, he was a fae and fae were known for their antics. Kalim shook his head, unfurling a ridiculously long scroll that only said a few words in bright green ink and outrageously enormous letters. "Lilia, get married NOW."

What a bunch of poppycock, Lilia thought. His father had always been protective of him since he was young, and somehow, he had also been trying to set him up with several princesses. The princess he used to be betrothed to when he was a small fae had escaped when she was just 10, deciding to be raised by nuns. He was stunned to find out that when he was born, he was already engaged for some sort of power. Afterwards, his father believed he could court someone on his own.

He could not.

Kalim scrambled to pick the long scroll up and made it into a pile as he glanced at the prince. "My lord? You must find someone."

The prince knew it was time. "What do you suggest?"

"I have an idea~!" The singsong voice of his other advisor came through the halls as he took a singular selfie of himself and made his phone disappear into his pocket. Lord Cater, who was somehow the wisest one amongst the three of them when it came to a situation such as this one, had one of those signature Cater beams, the ones that could relax anyone because he had a plan.

Curious, Lilia slightly leaned forward. "What is your idea?"

"We host a ball! And if you meet the person you like there, we did it, you can get married!"

"That seems a bit unorthodox--"

Cater didn't want to hear it and refused to. "Just think about it, Your Gracefulness, a romantic night sky, candles...maybe even some flames."

"Flames?"

"Of love, of course! Not pyrotechnics." Cater glanced at Kalim, shaking his head. "That means no fireworks, Kalim."

"Awww."

Lilia tilted his head a little. Perhaps it was a good idea to receive guests into his castle, to see who could potentially be the next person at his side to hold a crown on their head. It did not have to be something so overly dramatic as Cater was implying, yet Lilia liked to have that dramatic flair. And a ball was as dramatic one can get. Not to mention, it would slowly quell the murmurs of an uprising advocated by the impoverished individuals in his kingdom. He would feed them and ensure that they got a pleasant night. And so, he agreed.

With his permission, Cater was sent to the kingdom to make an announcement. The day was blistering hot, and yet the town was bustling. He could see people hurrying to get the best purchases in the market; children laughing as they kicked a bright green ball around on the gray cobblestones; couples occasionally stopping at the old and unstable fountain in the middle of the square to share the toss of a coin, hushed wishes made about their relationship lasting until the finality of time; vendors shouting at the top of their lungs their best offers on their wares, hoping to outdo their fellow sellers and perhaps obtain a bit more money this time around.

A flash of excitement came over him and he slowly rose on a barrel full of old clothes, according to the label. The bell in his hand commanded for attention from the people and sure enough, the eyes of the public were on him. "The prince is giving a ball! The prince is giving a ball! Hear ye, hear ye, a ball and that's not all! His Royal Highness, Lilia Vanrouge, is giving a ball!"

The repetition of his words quickly got the attention of several individuals, murmuring and as if Cater was a magnet, they were drawn to him to listen further. "He's giving a ball?" "Impossible, the prince has never given a ball in his lifetime." "Oh, shut it, I want to hear!" "I can't see!"

The ginger grinned, knowing he had the attention of more people and as a crowd formed, he knew he had one shot at this. For Lilia and above all, for his paycheck. And his friendship with Lilia, of course. Clearing his throat, he spoke with regality as he brought out shiny, crisp cream envelopes with the famous wax seal on it. Everyone knew it was the royal seal. "His Royal Highness, Lilia Vanrouge, has this decree: To attend the ball, all one requires is an invitation and suitably fashionable attire, and the prince will choose someone from the ball to be his future partner. That means anyone can be the next royal."

In the crowd, swallowed up by other excited people, you listened with intent, eyes filled with a wistfulness to be able to join such a celebration with high stakes. Living in your position was not easy and perhaps, with luck, you could be the one chosen for the place at Prince Lilia's side. Your thoughts been filled with wishes and wants that had replaced your previous ones. Now there was one that was at the center of it all: you wished you were one of the lucky people with an invitation to the ball.

The crowd dispersed and it left you alone in the square as the vendors packed up to go home after a long day of work. You sat on the fountain, careful not to sit in the one crack that made it more unstable, daydreaming about what it would be like to be in the royal palace. You sigh softly as you talk out loud, dreaming up scenarios of what would happen. But you know it wouldn't and your voice trails off.

Out of nowhere comes the old man that listens to you speak all the time, speaking his gibberish. "All the wishes in the world are poppycock and twaddle!"

"Oh, Crazy Sam, are you mocking me with your gibberish?"

"Yes. All the dreamers in the world are dizzy in the noodle!" The man grinned, his magenta eyes hiding a secret as he listens to your wish about wanting to see the prince in person, to talk to him about what life in his kingdom was really like. With a hum, he teases, "And then to have him fall in love with you?"

You shake your head. No. You didn't want that for you, you wanted the prince to realize that his kingdom was a place that needed to be fixed as efficiently as possible. "Why did you come to visit me?"

"I just knew I would find in the same fountain, in the same part, on the cliff of a foolish dream."

For once, Crazy Sam wasn't crazy. He was right and you agreed begrudgingly. "Maybe I am being foolish."

"Then be foolish with me. What would you dream of?" His smile was reminiscent to that of someone who was the messenger for a surprise party. When he heard your dream of getting an invitation to the ball, he pulled out a cream colored envelope. It was a bit ripped from being run over in the stampede of the crowd as they left. "Here. There's an invitation. It isn't perfect, just go. What else would you dream of?"

Your heart lifted in hope as you spoke about silks and such for your outfit that you so desired for. But then you got realistic. "How would I get to the ball?"

He smiled. "See that pumpkin over there? I'll turn it into a golden carriage."

"And horses?"

"Those mice in that cage." He nodded at the mice trapped in a cage, almost a metaphor for your life was. "And a fox as a footman and a raccoon as a driver."

You could almost burst out laughing. This was so ridiculous and improbable. "In order to do that, you'd have to be a fairy godmother. Or godfather."

Crazy Sam raised an eyebrow and suddenly it felt as if the energy shifted between you both. In the same way a magical girl transformation would happen, it seemed like Sam glowed for a second and he changed from an old man with a hunched back to a man with a top hat that could stand up straight and dance. He had a cane in his hand, markings all around him and eyes that no longer hid their mischief and whimsy. Sam had hidden this secret from you all along. He laughed, doing a small turn. "Much better, don't you think?"

Your jaw was on the floor. You had just seen one of your only friends go from an old person into what seemed to be a magical being. "Sam! Are you...really my fairy godfother?"

Sam kept a beam on his face. "But of course! Actually, I'm everyone's fairy godfather, but you're the only one who has treated me with kindness and generosity. Now, I must make all the dreams we talked about come true."

"But that's so improbable, implausible! You could even say that it's impossible!"

With a regal huff, Sam shook his head, spinning his cane in his hand as he led you away from the town square into the edge of the woods. "Impossible? For a pumpkin to become a carriage? Four white mice becoming horses! Ha! The world is full of fools, who believe too much in their strict, invulnerable rules. Impossible things keep happening every day."

Truly, your eyes were deceiving you. You stared at Sam, thinking that he was out of his mind completely. "That's out of the question!"

"Is it?"

You nodded your head, your hands moving in front of you as if trying to emphasize your point. "Unattainable."

"Hmm, do you believe that?"

"Unimaginable..."

"Unimaginable..." Sam grinned as he parroted what you said.

You sputtered, "But you were just a beggar man a couple of moments ago and now you're my fairy godfather? Does that mean that anything is obtainable?"

"Of course." The man listened to you as you spoke, elated at the fact that maybe, just maybe, he could fix everything. He could fix all that caused you troubles. "No, but you can. You can make it all happen."

"I couldn't!" At your words, Sam mocked you a bit, "I couldn't, it's all so impossible--No, it isn't. Look at me, look at your invitation. I'll even give you proof."

His cane glowed as transformations began, suitable for that of a princess. The silliness of earlier became a reality as your dreams seemed to be closer and closer in your grasp. The pumpkin became a gorgeous white carriage, made out of a material that seemed to be made out of porcelain. It was ornate, decorated with gold linings and shining jewels on the swirling wheels. Under the sunset, it shimmered in the dazzling lotus pinks and poppy oranges of the sky.

Next were the raccoon and fox. They turned into grown men, with no idea as to how they could only walk on their hind feet and had fingers with actual human skin. They slowly stumbled to their positions by the carriage as commanded by the person who made them into something else. Another tap of the floor by Sam's cane and out popped the mice into horses, snuffling at the floor.

Finally, he turned to you. He caused you to float and spin and soon, you were transformed into the most gorgeous attire that you could ever even think of wearing. A gasp fell from your lips. "It's the most beautiful outfit I've ever seen in the land!"

He smiled not unkindly. "I will have to warn you, however, this spell only lasts until midnight. By that time, everything will go back to its normal state of being and so will you. Now go, go with the promise of possibility!"

With your heart beating faster and faster at the prospect of going to the ball that seemed as though any laws abiding by the fabric of the universe could now be ripped to shreds, your carriage raced through the night. The world seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for you to finally step out and complete the puzzle of the idyllic night that was to come. Perhaps it was the joy of the moment that made you forget the midnight rule for now. After all, the plush fabric beneath you was more luxurious than any material belonging to your household. It was a dream that one would never wish to wake up from.

Arriving at the palace, it seemed as though you had stepped into another universe entirely. The palace was looming over you with its bright white ivory walls, shiny glass windows that prohibited a speck of dust to even land on it, perfectly polished doors with guards in armor, checking every guest for invitations as they walked in. Your carriage pulled itself aside, allowing you to step down from it. As the last person to arrive, it would be quite difficult to not notice you.

And that is exactly what happened to Lilia when he merely glimpsed at you, only to do a double take. In all his years of living, he had never seen a star up close, and yet here you were, dazzling without even attempting. It was a bit cute to him to see that you were standoffish, perhaps a bit shy. He made a choice to introduce himself as he walked over, bowing. "Good evening. I am Prince Lilia. How do you do?"

You couldn't believe your ears. The prince himself had walked over to you, even though you were late and completely alone. You also bowed as you introduced yourself to him. You studied him for a second and you saw that for a prince, he did not appear like one. Black hair with pink highlights in an asymmetrical haircut with tiny wisps on the sides of his head, reminding you of bat wings. Those red eyes full of roguery and the smile that showed who he was beyond being a prince.

"May I have this dance?" Lilia asked as a new soft ballad was being played in the background.

Taking his extended hand, you began to dance with him. It was awkward at first since you were not a professional in ballroom dancing and it was not something that was taught to you in your household. Waltzing through the ballroom quietly, but it was somehow a comfortable silence as you swayed back and forth with him. He didn't mind when you stepped on his shoes at all, he was fond of your inexperience. Oh, the thrill of possibly finding someone that he would adore, that made him refuse to come down to Earth again.

The waltz transformed into something slightly more upbeat, involving everyone. You did not know any of this synchronized dancing, only following through the motions. It was certainly overwhelming. Lilia saw that and he swiftly weaved through the other dancers to get to you, taking you away from everyone else. You may be in the center, but no one else would lay a hand on you as long as the prince decided that he would dance with you and you alone. The melody began to slow down slightly and began once again.

Time seemed to move slowly with him before you were matching the pace of the upbeat melody. It was quickening with every note until it reached its crescendo and suddenly it felt like you were floating. You were floating when you looked down at the floor. Lilia winked a bit. "I decided to switch it up this time instead of me floating."

He twirled with you around the room, everyone else enjoying their similar dances with their own partners as the music blared loudly from the area where the musicians remained. It began to quiet down before rising up again in its notes. As Lilia stared at you, he only thought that angels had to be real, for they lived in your eyes. He shook his head, getting that out of his head and smiling once more at you. "I would love to continue dancing with you, if you'd allow it."

"Oh, I would love to--"

Suddenly, everything snapped to reality as you took a brief look at the massive clock behind him. With a gasp, you realized it was late. You needed to go. "I am so sorry, but I have to go."

His surprise made you land on the floor as you ran through the crowd, a good amount of them a bit outraged and peeved at this inconvenience. "Wait! Please!"

You didn't listen. You made it up the stairs, breathing heavily and then moved to run downstairs. Your shoe fell from you but you ignored it. It was 3 minutes to midnight. If you didn't race out of there, everyone would find out who you were, especially your stepmother. It would not be a pretty sight to see.

As you hurried and pushed past Lilia's cries for you to stop in your tracks, the footman opened the door instantly and when you dove in, the carriage was off. What once seemed like a smooth ride on the way to the castle only seemed like a bumpy, hectic ride back home.

Meanwhile, Lilia was at the top of the stairs, watching you go. "How will I find you?!"

Then, there was the answer: the shoe.

He stared down at it and back up at the sky. The stars seemed to dim without you serving as their foreground.

The prince moved inside to his office, where Kalim and Cater were. "We need to find this person, immediately!"

They looked at each other before Cater spoke up, "Sir, that is a shoe."

"It will guide me to them!"

Kalim tilted his head but believed it. "Okay. Well, we can hold a banquet next!"

Lilia's eyes went wide. "Yes. Yes! That is what we will do tomorrow night. I will find them as soon as possible and we will do what my father said so that he can stop spinning in his grave. I am positive he has burrowed his way halfway to the inner core of the planet."

With a plan in mind, he knew what he would have to do next. He wouldn't stop until he found a satisfying ending. And it helped that Kalim and Cater were most definitely encouraging his delusions of grandeur, even if they were not delusions to him. They would become a reality.

[huramuna]

selkie's song - chapter 1.

night's watch aemond x wildling shapeshifter ofc work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

this is wholly inspired by @lonelymagpies depiction of Night's Watch Aemond. please go check out their beautiful work here!

i am also partial to selkies bc irish 🤭 i'm going to take some liberties with wildling lore since we don't know too too much about them and mix some of my own heritage into it (indigenous american and irish) , which i feel would meld really well.

previous | next chapter

word count: 2.2k

content: smut (eventually, specifics will be under the cut of chapters with it), enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, ofc is a menace to Aemond and he kind of likes it

who is she? - I MONSTER • dead! - my chemical romance

The blood of the dragon runs hot and thick, pulsing through Targaryen veins like molten lava. His mother always snuggled him as a child, citing him as her own personal furnace. 

If only that would come in handy now. Aemond thought he knew cold, way up in the skies, skimming the clouds upon Vhagar’s back, feeling the chill away from the heat of the earth. A frigid autumn breeze going through his window, causing him to bundle up in two blankets— although he usually kicked them off sometime during the night. 

But this— this was cold. Ball freezing, bone chilling, blue lipped cold. He was stuck up in the ass of the North, stationed at the wall, dressed all in black. He puffed up the collar of his cloak, trying to find some respite from the gales of glacial air. 

“Saddle up, Targaryen,” the lord commander grunted. He was a broad man, some disgraced Northman who rose his way up the ranks of the Night’s watch. Aemond could hardly remember his name, “We’re goin’ beyond the wall. Scouts said wildlings gettin’ too close.” 

“Mm.” Aemond grumbled in response, not wanting to waste his energy talking to the ogre of a man when it could be better used for warmth.

The stable boy, no older than nine name days, tugged his palfrey to him, “I’ve got ‘em all tacked  up for ya, prince.” 

“Oy, Ryam,” the lord commander snapped. Lord Ennard Fir, that was the commander’s name, “He ain’t no prince anymore, so stop callin’ him as such. He’s just one of us now, eh? A man in black.” 

Ryam nodded slowly, handing the reins to Aemond. The boy’s face was tinged red as he puffed air into his cupped hands, trying to keep warm. He was a boy from the south, just like Aemond— a butcher’s bastard boy, Ryam Waters. He had accompanied the now scorned prince on his ride up the Kingsroad. He reminded Aemond greatly of Daeron.

“Stay warm, boy,” Aemond said, giving the youngster a stiff nod of his head, “Take the fur from my bed, it’ll help.” 

Ryam puffed out his chest, “Uh huh, your grace,” he giggled, speaking the title in secret. 

It almost made a smile come to Aemond’s lips. Almost. He tried to remember the last time he smiled– it was on that fateful day near Storm’s End, over Shipbreaker’s bay. He was taunting Lucerys, finally being the stronger one, the one who had control. He laughed and smiled like a madman, chasing his nephew on his puny hatchling of a dragon. He felt like a god.

Then Vhagar snapped her jaws, ignoring Aemond’s commands. The sickening crunch of Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon still lived in his mind. It played in his dreams, making them into nightmares. He constantly woke up in a cold sweat, muttering, “It was an accident, it was an accident, I didn’t mean it.”

His eye began to ache and he clenched his jaw as he mounted his horse. Glancing around, he saw that five other men were joining him. He tugged his hood up slightly before his hand rested on his blade. He donned two weapons; a standard issue castle-steel short sword, and the Catspaw blade. He had watched his father carry it for years, he watched his mother brandish it in his name and cut Rhaenyra— and now it was his. 

Not by precedent or bestowment, he actually stole it. When he was being sent to take the black, he pilfered it from Daemon’s chambers. The old fucker already had one ancestral blade, he didn’t need two. It was the only thing he had left of home, besides the sapphire in his socket and his eyepatch. It was gorgeous crafted Valyrian steel and he always kept it on his person. 

His thumb grazed over the ruby gem on the hilt of the dagger absentmindedly as they descended on their journey, spurring their horses further across the threshold of the wall. Lord Fir was at the front, with Aemond holding up the back in their procession of ingrates and outcasts. 

If he told his younger self that he was to be lumped in with bastards, thieves, rapers and ne’er-do-wells, he would’ve laughed in his own face. It was a ridiculous notion for a Targaryen prince to be even entertaining the idea. And yet, here he was. Living it out. 

He wondered what his mother was doing currently. Had she taken Helaena and Aegon to Oldtown with the children? Did she stay in the Red Keep to be squashed under Rhaenyra’s heel? 

“Aemond Targaryen, you stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, protector of the realm,” Ser Westerling had shouted, “You stand accused of treason, conspiracy to commit usurpation, and nepoticide. You murdered Lucerys Velaryon in cold blood above the skies of Shipbreaker Bay.” 

Aemond had been in chains, his face haggard and stubbled from not being able to shave. They stripped him of his eyepatch and sapphire at the hearing, sending him down to his knees with his barren eye socket to behold. 

“How do you plead to these charges?” Ser Harrold asked. 

Aemond said nothing. 

Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, tapping her finger incessantly against the metal, “Brother. I’ve granted you the courtesy of allowing a hearing to your… crimes, rather than simply sending you to the block. Mayhaps I was too lenient on my decision to let you say your piece.” 

Aemond still said nothing, looking down at the ground. He heard his mother shuffling near him, off to the side in the throne room, murmuring something hurriedly to someone. 

“I have nothing to say. Lucerys is dead— nothing I can say will bring him back or undo what’s been done.” he finally grit out, his voice hoarse from disuse. 

“So, you have no objection to being punished for your crimes? The crime of Kinslaying is the most cursed,” Rhaenyra said, leaning forward, “Mayhaps I will grant you a death by dragon— I would honor you the same way you so graciously honored Lucerys, hm? Mayhaps have Syrax and Caraxes rip you limb from limb and scatter your parts over Blackwater Bay.” 

Aemond didn’t respond.

“Y-your grace,” Alicent spoke up, walking to Aemond and standing in front of him, “Please, have mercy upon him. Your son wouldn’t have wanted this—“

“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT MY SON WOULD’VE WANTED,” Rhaenyra bellowed, standing up from her seat, “Your son took away his ability to want anything, and for that there should be repercussions! A son for a son.” 

“Rhaenyra, please,” Alicent murmured, “Please, I can’t lose him— it… it was an accident. Aemond, tell her it was an accident!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to admit their family’s greatest fear was true; they did not have complete control over their dragons. 

Rhaenyra gazed at Aemond’s pained expression, then at Alicent, “He will be punished. But I would not become a Kinslayer— I do not wish to be as accursed as you, brother,” she strode back to the throne, twisting the rings on her fingers, “He will take the black and be sent to the wall. He will have no titles, no land, no wife or children. He will have nothing for the rest of his life except for the Night’s Watch.” 

Alicent was stunned, as was Aemond. He wondered if he would’ve preferred death. 

“In addition,” Rhaenyra continued, “His claim to his dragon, Vhagar, will be severed. He will undergo the Valyrian ceremony for it.” 

“You can’t,” Aemond growled, “You can’t!” he panicked— Vhagar had been the only thing he ever achieved in his life, truly. He lost his eye for her. 

“Take him back to his cell and prepare him for the ride up the Kingsroad.” she said with finality, looking down at her hand as she sat back on the throne. 

Aemond saw— she had been pricked by the throne, blood beading at the tip of her finger. 

Mayhaps there are still small mercies in this world. 

A particularly strong gust of cold air snapped him back to reality, his hand still itching over his dagger. They reached the thick treeline that stretched out for miles, their horses trudging through the snow. 

They were at least ten miles out from the wall now, the Seven Kingdoms left truly well behind them. A small river trickled near them and Aemond saw the shadows of fish— large ones at that. 

He had been in the Night’s Watch for at least seven moons now, and this was his first expedition outside of the wall. It felt like a whole different world— a world without laws, without political duty, without fights of succession over a throne made of swords— there was something freeing about being here. It was only a remnant of what he felt soaring the skies on Vhagar, but it would have to do. 

The wind whistled through the branches of the trees, fresh snow beginning to fall. He heard a fly buzzing near his ear. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely there weren’t flies in the cold? 

It wasn’t right— another fly whizzed past him, sticking into the man in front of him. Those were the arrows. 

“Ambush! Wildlings!” Lord Fir shouted, reeling in his horse. 

Aemond went to unsheathe his sword when his horse went haywire, rearing up on its hind legs. “Lykiri, lykiri!” Be calm, be calm. He shouted at the horse, tugging at the reins as the wildlings descended upon them. He felt like he was above Storm’s End once more, screaming for Vhagar to heed his commands—

His horse bucked him off, sending him tumbling into a deep snow drift. He dropped his sword somewhere aside— his hand immediately went to his waist, gripping around the Catspaw dagger. 

A breath of relief washed over him as he rolled and hid behind a tree, unsheathing the dagger. He twirled it around, waiting for someone, anyone to cross his path. 

He then felt the cool pressure of a blade against his throat. 

“Don’t move, crow,” a voice said. It was almost diminutive, soft in tone— but it was threatening all the same, “I don’t need to paint the snow red with your blood just yet. Drop the dagger.” 

Begrudgingly, he dropped the Valyrian steel into the snow. 

“Now turn around, slowly. Keep your hands out.” 

He turned around, expecting to see an ugly wildling in his gaze. He had only heard the tales of them, that they were more ugly than not. 

His breath caught in his throat as he looked upon her— she was small, much smaller than he, her skin somewhat pale and cool toned, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. It was her eyes that caught him— one was a deep, rich brown, and the other was a light blue, with fragments and shards of brown in it, like a mountain against a clear sky. Her hair, dark chocolate brown with one streak of white in it, was tied into a haphazard braid. She wore earrings made of the lower jaw of some small mammal, inlaid with opals. She was holding a dragonglass dagger to his throat, the hilt of it carved from a deer’s antler, encrusted with a matching moonstone. 

She wore a long, white coat— it looked to be the skin of some animal, but Aemond couldn’t tell which. It was spotted and fluffed. 

His brow narrowed as he noticed that she was soaking wet, dripping water from her nose and hair, the sheen of moisture shining from her skin.

He could only imagine how astonished he looked staring at her— but she stared back at him in the same manner, her eyes wide. She had huge eyes, Gods be good. 

“Fucking hell, you’ve got a purple eye.” she murmured. 

“You should see my other eye.”

A harsh crack across his face— she had slapped him, “Don’t be a pig.” 

Aemond blinked profusely, “By the Seven— I meant my actual other eye,” he grunted, “May I?” he gestured to his eyepatch. 

“… better be worth it, crow.” she murmured, nodding slowly. 

He lifted his eyepatch off, revealing the sapphire underneath. 

Her lips were slightly agape as she ogled at him, “You’re a fancy crow, aren’t you?”

“Hm.” he grumbled. 

She retrieved the Catspaw dagger from the ground, stowing it at her hip, “I’ll be keepin’ this for right now.” 

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” he asked, perplexed as to why he wasn’t dead yet. 

“Not yet— you got interesting eyes, I wanna show my papa,” she retrieved a leather cord from her belt and wrapped it keenly around his wrists, “Caught myself a crow.” she hummed, seemingly entertained with herself. 

Aemond rolled his eye, letting her hoist him up into a standing position. He towered over her, to which she didn’t seem too bothered about. 

She led him past the battle, which was now over. He saw three of his Night’s Watch brothers slain, and it looks like two others had run off like cravens, including Lord Commander Fir. 

“Where are you taking me?” 

“My tribe,” she replied, stringing him along. 

“Your… tribe,” he repeated, “And what is your name?”

“Euna. And you, crow?” 

“Aemond.”

[rosemaryblossomworld]

First Blood (ch.1)

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚅𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎!𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚜 𝚅𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛.

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚈/𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢....𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕?

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝟷𝟾 , 𝙰𝚞!𝚅𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚝𝙳, 𝚁𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚗𝚢𝚛𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎. 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙰𝚞, 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍!

𝙰/𝚗: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎! 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍...

Red Castle was the most dangerous place in the Kingslands. Why? For centuries, the land had been ruled by the most ancient and noble race of vampires! Nothing can break them. Strong...fast...immortal. And they have dragons to serve them.

Men feared and revered them. The Targaryen bloodline gave rise to many rumours and gossip. People whispered about them, their purity of blood and sacrifice.

Every three months, balls were organised for the Targaryen children to find partners.

But every time these partners "disappeared", everyone knew exactly how it happened, but were afraid to say it out loud. Servants, people from the upper classes, ordinary travellers disappeared.

Today was the 6th moon of the winter festival (Christmas). The weather was hot, uncharacteristic of the Kingslands. And on the 15th day of the sixth moon, the lords of the various houses began to receive an invitation from the Queen for a feast. Many considered this letter a "black mark".

This time the black mark fell on the house of Y/l/n, the lord's wife wept bitterly and clutched to her bosom, the youngest Lady of the house, who was beating hysterically. Lord Y/l/n looked gloomily at the letter and reread it over and over again.

"Daddy! Don't give me away, they'll kill me! Please!" young Sanda couldn't imagine that her comfortable days were coming to an end.

"Be quiet Sanda! You've been chosen, but that doesn't mean you can fall to the eyes of Jacaerys," the man muttered.

"Our Sanda is the most beautiful girl in the Kingdom Lands! She could match the Maiden herself! Everyone knows it, and the Queen and her children have found out. Of course she'll want the most beautiful girl in Westeros standing next to her son!" said Lady t/f hysterically.

"Don't get in the way Darlene! I'm thinking!" the man glanced sullenly at the letter again.

He threw a glance at his youngest daughter, now he saw before him a pathetic woman who thought everything would be decided at the wave of a hand. If it didn't involve the Targaryen family, then yes, Lord Y/l/n needed to wave his hand and all of his daughter's problems disappeared.

At that moment the eldest daughter of the family, Y/n, entered the room quietly, she was carrying a small cart with tea and cakes, a quiet and calm girl. She was a bastard. So in the house she was on the level of a servant. The girl was a little taken aback when she heard the pitiful howls of her sister and stepmother. But continued to arrange the cups on the table, pouring flavoured tea from the south.

The girl squinted at the letter in her father's hand and then looked at him, he was already looking at her.

"Interesting?" the gears in the lord's head began to move gradually.

"I dare not," Y/n answered hastily.

"Sanda has been chosen as a candidate to be the 'princess' of Jacaerys," the man sighed and threw a letter on the table.

Y/n looked at her younger sister, who was almost choking on her tears. The girl no longer saw the upstart she had been a few minutes ago when she bullied her. A nasty and caustic thought crept into Y/n's mind that made her want to chuckle. The lord felt it.

"Don't gloat! Lousy girl! Instead of Sanda, you're going to the ball. If Prince Jacaerys doesn't look at you, you're lucky, if he does, I'll give it to him," the lord smirked and looked at the shocked Y/n carefully. The cries of the stepmother and sister fell silent.

"What?" whispered the girl quietly, in that instant she was overcome with anger and sadness.

"Honey, you're a genius! How did we not guess it right away!?" immediately cheered the stepmother.

"Daddy! You're the best!" squealed Sanda and ran into her father's arms.

"The queen might get angry... "Y/n hurried to say.

"She won't be too angry if I tell her that the youngest daughter is seriously ill," the man sniggered.

"She can ask Sanda to attend the next ball, and the next, and the next, and so on ad infinitum!" raised her voice to the older mistress. The lord frowned.

"How dare you cross me!? You ignorant wench! You should be grateful that I took you in. It's time to repay our kindness. The ball will be in two days, so you will be moved to another room. Go!" shrieked the man, he knew perfectly well that his eldest daughter was right. But he didn't want to think about it in front of his wife and youngest daughter, lest he make a fool of himself.

The lord followed the girl's eyes as she looked at him with anger, once again those eyes were reminiscent of the eyes of the witch he had spent the night with. That woman had been beautiful. He had promised to make her his wife and take her out of this poverty. But he had not kept his promise, leaving that one in poverty. As he was packing up and leaving her decrepit home, the dark-haired woman whispered just one phrase: "My daughter will be the ruin of your family." The man laughed. He still laughs now because he looks at Y/n, at this unassuming and defenceless girl, and thinks: "And what can she do?"

Two days passed in preparation. For the first time, Y/n was treated like a queen, washed, fed, and dressed in her finest clothes. The stepmother and younger sister had gone to another estate to maintain the legend of the ailing younger mistress.

On the day of the festival a beautiful dress was sent to Y/n's room, it was red like blood, a black veil and gold jewellery completed the look. The maids carefully put the dress on her, did her hair and then left, leaving Y/n alone. The girl looked at herself and wanted to cry. To cry with happiness that she was wearing such expensive and nice clothes, and with grief that it was an unnecessary spectacle.

The girl wasn't allowed to be sad for long, she was called downstairs to go to the festival.

Y/n and her father stood opposite the queen, who towered majestically over them. Beside her stood her husband, Daemon Targaryen, a vicious prince and the most scandalous person in the kingdom. His two daughters stood beside him, Rhaena had only recently 'lost' her lover, while Baela still had a partner, but the betting was already underway as to when she would start looking for a groom.

Of course, there were rumours that Baela and Jacaerys were to be betrothed, but to this day, they remained free. Jacaerys stood proudly beside his mother, he didn't look at them, his head held high. Lucerys and Joffrey were nowhere to be seen. Everyone knew that Joffrey had not yet reached the age when the power of the ancient family was awakened. And Lucerys just didn't like the event, and the queen thought he was young in his choice of mate.

" I asked you, Lord Y/l/n, where is your youngest daughter?" the queen asked sternly, but every time she shifted her gaze to the young Y/n, her look softened.

"My youngest daughter is seriously ill! She came down with a fever a couple of days ago, the symptoms are terrible, and she's only getting worse," the man lied.

"But who is there with you?" she asked more calmly.

"Oh, it's my eldest daughter. She didn't want you to be angry, so she decided to personally volunteer to soothe your anger," the girl's father nudged her slightly.

"Your majesty," Y/n bowed.

Jacaerys, who had been standing bored when he heard the soft voice that roused his "dead" body, turned his attention to the sound. At the bottom of the steps stood the most beautiful girl he had ever seen at a ball. Soft facial features, a beautiful stance and a slight smile, he felt a hum in his ears, and before his gaze was only her. Was this what his mum had been talking about? "The eternal bond?" That's her, isn't it?

Sensing her son's change, Rhaenyra looked at her boy and then shifted her gaze to the girl. The woman smiled and hummed.

"Good, I see your point, that's very noble of you, enjoy the festival," the queen waved her hand and Lord Y/l/n hurriedly disappeared from the woman's gaze, fetching his eldest daughter.

"You can do whatever you want now. Dance, eat, drink, if any of the heirs come up to you to talk then speak, don't embarrass me," the lord walked away, leaving Y/n completely alone in an unknown environment.

After thinking for a while, Y/n skirted down the corridor and then onto one of the castle's balconies. The view was magnificent: the harbour, the ships, the sun setting on the horizon. This view was not comparable to what the girl saw at her place, in fact she had no windows in her room. It was always dark and cold.

She covered her eyes but immediately opened them as soon as she felt a strange smell, it was sweet and juicy, as if there was a sweet fruit in front of her eyes that she wanted to bite. She turned round and her heart stopped beating. Jackairis Velarion stood before her.

"May I join your silence, my lady?" he asked, slowly approaching.

" yes, of course," the girl said quietly.

She looked straight into the guy's eyes, they were brown, but...she could also see red reflections in them that appeared and disappeared.

"Why did you leave?" he enquired to get rid of the awkward silence.

"I'm not used to being at events like this. I'm nervous, to be honest," the girl grinned and leaned her hands relaxedly on the stone railing of the balcony.

"I understand, my lady, I get tired of them too. That's why my little brother rarely attends them. But my sisters just love the fun and the noise. They're dancing in the hall right now," he smiled, and Y/n was embarrassed.

"You...I... " Y/n tried to think of a topic of conversation, but nothing came to mind.

The prince chuckled. He couldn't look at the girl in red, in his head they had lived for several thousand years, they had five...no! seven...no! ten children.

"I didn't ask your name," the guy mentioned.

"My name is Y/n Y/l/n, Lord Y/l/n's eldest daughter," the girl bowed.

"Your little sister...she's not sick, is she?" he asked immediately and he could hear the girl's heart beating fast.

"She...no...she's just," the lady tried to come to her senses and think of something.

"Look at me," the prince reached out to Y/n and lifted her chin.

Y/n looked at the prince and froze, her ears popped, her breathing became quiet and steady, her eyes were covered by a bright veil from behind which she saw the prince's red eyes.

"Tell me the truth. Where is your sister?" he ran his hand gently down the girl's cheek.

"She has gone with her stepmother to the second estate. She is not ill, but shocked by the letter the queen sent. I am her replacement. I didn't want to come here, I was forced," the girl said in a cold tone, Y/n wanted to scream but couldn't, she didn't want to say it! What's going on!!!?

"Don't be afraid Y/n, I won't hurt you. You are under my spell, it's what our kind can do. We can make a person tell the truth or, we can command them to do an order, for example: my love, take my hand and press it to your chest," the prince uttered the last phrase, he didn't really mean to say 'to your chest', if his blood flowed like a normal person, his lady could see his red face.

Y/n felt the heat come up to her cheeks. This was exciting! She took the prince's other hand and pressed it against her chest, where her heart beat.

"Like this. Your heart is beating fast. Are you scared?" Jace lifted his hand higher.

"I'm excited... "the girl whispered softly.

"Are you afraid I'll bite you? I won't do that unless you ask me to," the prince moved closer.

"I don't want you to kill me," for a moment all feeling came back to the girl and she tried to break free, but the Prince's grip tightened and he soaked her again.

"What if I told you I don't want to kill you. I want you to be my partner, my princess and future queen," he whispered the words into the girl's lips.

"I don't believe you," just as monotonously.

"Then, I'll do my best to make you believe. Let me kiss you, just one kiss as proof," the pair's lips almost touched, but Y/n didn't respond.

He grinned and nestled his lips against the girl's soft lips. Immediately the buzzing in her ears disappeared, her vision and breathing normalised again, but Y/n didn't pull away, only pressed herself closer to the prince. Again that smell that was driving the girl crazy.

He touched the girl's lips gently and weightlessly, sucking on her upper and lower lips. Then, opening his mouth slightly, he ran his tongue along the girl's lower lip. Y/n immediately opened her mouth, letting the young man's hurried tongue in. The kiss constantly changed its pace, then slow, then fast, then careless. The girl knew the feeling for the first time, something warm in her lower belly and flowing down into her underwear.

He growled into the kiss, feeling the girl's wonderful ambrosia, that sweet smell starting to swirl around them. The Prince is afraid that his kin can smell it too, and they will try to steal his Maiden, out of his own hands. Jace clasped the girl tighter. He continued to entwine his tongue with his lady's, growling and whimpering slightly, the scent growing brighter and brighter. Now Jace's heat was centred down his stomach as well.

Y/n began to feel her head spinning, these emotions and this scent...where did it come from? So pleasant, sweet and spicy, wanting to inhale and inhale. The girl moaned at the prince's touch. Is it his charms? Or is it her true feelings? So shameful, but...she wants more, she wants what the maids whisper about in the manor, she wants what they teach in the Silk Streets. She pressed herself against the prince and...darkness fell.

The girl opened her eyes sharply and realised that she was in the room where she had been living for the last two days in her family estate. She jumped up from the bed and looked around. The sun was shining brightly and illuminating the room.

"Mistress, you woke up just in time," a maid named Martina, walked over to the elder mistress' bed and placed a few things on the chair next to it.

"What happened? Where is father?" her voice was slightly hoarse and the girl hurriedly drank a glass of water that was on a table nearby.

"Ser Jakor brought you in yesterday. You fainted at the ball. And your father is in his study now and wants to see you after breakfast," the maid said calmly.

Y/n was dressed in a light white dress with open shoulders. Breakfast was light, the way a girl likes it.

After breakfast, Ser Jakor escorted the girl to the lord's study. He knocked and announced the arrival of his daughter. There was a muffled sound, "let her in." And the knight opened the door.

"Why did you want to see me?" went straight to the subject Y/n.

"Did you communicate with the eldest prince yesterday?" asked the Lord, still staring at the papers in front of him.

Y/n felt her face begin to burn. Has he seen us? Does he know about this? What to do!!!

"Yes," the girl said quickly.

"Jakor, hand it over," the man pushed a black envelope towards the knight.

Once the envelope was handed over, Y/n looked at it closely. It was an unusual black envelope with drawings of flowers, the letter had been opened, most likely the lord had decided to see who it was from, because the envelope bore the name of the eldest lady of House Y/l/n, though it was barely visible. But the girl looked at the Targaryen family crest on the gold seal, the girl's heart sank, she pulled out the envelope and read a few lines. Queen Rhaenyra wrote and demanded a meeting with Y/n Y/l/n, at the end there was only one phrase: You are the perfect candidate.

"I don't know how long the queen will keep you, but I have ordered the maids to gather some of your wardrobe. You will be sent to Red Castle, we can't keep the Queen waiting!" the man finally looked at his daughter.

"Father..." the girl began.

"I don't care what happens to you. Your fate is essentially sealed. That's the way it should be, Y/n, you were a mistake and fate presented me with a chance to get rid of her," the man spoke coldly.

"What if they let me go?" the girl asked, looking angrily at her father again.

"This will be a great disappointment. But I'll take you back, you'll live here as before. Now get on your way. The queen wanted to share a meal with you," waved the lord and burrowed into the papers again.

Y/n sighed and left the room. She was filled with a thousand emotions. It was scary and exciting at the same time, she would meet the prince again, but...she already knew what she would be to him.

With heavy thoughts, the girl walked down to the ground floor. She watched her things being loaded. Y/n took one last look at Y/n's estate, smiled sadly, and got into the carriage. Her fate was now in someone else's hands.

Ps: I'm not good at writing intimate scenes...well...I think the second chapter will take a long time to come out because I want to write it right. In a way that's breathtaking.

[givemeonereason]

Meditations: First, the Friend and then, the Son

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Photo Credit: Here

Dragon Ball Masterlist Givemeonereason Masterlist

Rating: SO MANY FEELS

Plot: Krillin seeks out Gohan to get some more information about the girl who lost her "Piccolo." A warmth between friends and family.

A/N: Hello, and thank you for patiently waiting for me to write up this next installment. I kept saying I was writing and I kept pushing it aside. Depression is so real and writers burn out is really real too. I think I just overdid it.

I'm so excited and happy that this series has taken off. Seems like there really is an audience for Piccolo. And he deserves it! I'll keep it going for as long as the story needs it. Tall, green, and handsome love for all.

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The police speeder came to an abrupt halt outside Son Gohan estate.

When Krillin gingerly unhooked his regulation helmet and hung it from the handlebars of his unit, the elderly man who was tending to flowers in the garden was swiftly walking towards the main house.

After he disappeared through a side door a kind-looking, middle-aged woman came out to greet him.

"Good morning, sir." She bowed her head politely. "To what do we owe the pleasure of the local law enforcement?"

The formality of the situation made Krillin perk up his shoulders. "Sorry, ma'am I need to speak with Gohan. Do you know if he's around?"

"I believe he is in the library." She turned on her heel. "Please follow me."

What seemed like an endless amount of stairs for a pair of small legs, the door to the library was ajar. Gohan was buried among several piles of books, a laptop, and three mugs, which presumably had an unknown concoction of caffeine.

"Gohan." Krillin called out to him as he walked towards the desk, but Gohan only pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He scribbled vigorously at the notepad before him.

"Gohan?" Krillin repeated with a little more oomph. Gohan began to mumble to himself.

with the help of prefectural flora cultivation, this can provide direct resources to the habitat of-

"Gohan! Snap out of it."

Gohan shook his head and blinked his eyes a few times while readjusting his thick black frames. "Whoa, Krillin I didn't see you there."

"Obviously..." Krillin rolled his eyes.

"Gosh, how long have you been here." Gohan finished the sentence he was muttering and almost stabbed the notepad when he poked the paper at the period.

"Well, I've been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now."

"Okay, I'm sorry I'm on the verge of a breakthrough here." He picked up a large blue mug and took a swig, only to spit it back into the glass. His face contorted when he tried to wipe his tongue on his sleeve.

Krillin had picked up a book nearest him and flipped through a few pages. "Cognitive Ecology of Pollination: Animal Behaviour and Floral Evolution." Too many words. He set the book back down and crossed his arms. "This might be out of left field, but have you seen Piccolo lately?"

"Not today, no."

"No, I just mean recently. There is something fishy is going on. I don't know if you know about the girl?"

"There's a girl?" Gohan took a sip from a different mug garnished with a Satan City logo. He set that one down quickly. "Did Piccolo do something to a girl? I'm not sure I understand."

"That's what I'm trying to find out." Krillin took a seat in a wooden car adjacent to the large desk. "This is going to sound odd. Considering we've seen and experienced some very odd things in the past, this one is hard to place when it comes to weird."

Krillins folded his hands and relaxed his shoulders. "Well, here goes. Long story short; I got a report of a girl screaming on a hillside about an instrument. When I went to investigate the girl said she lost her piccolo. I put two and two together and figured she might be talking about our Piccolo. So when I went to The Hideout to ask Piccolo about this girl, he got defensive and said he did something to her. And I think he couldn't forgive himself, or I don't remember fine details."

Gohan sat for a few moments in silence thinking. "Do you know this girl?"

"Never met her a day in my life...until I spoke with her."

Gohan scratched at his hairline, pushing the rouge tuft of hair out of his face only for it to fall back down towards his eyes. "Piccolo hasn't said anything to me about a woman." His shoulders were undulated with confusion.

Before Gohan could circle the same conclusion, he spoke again. "Whatever it is, he seems to care enough about this girl. You know him. He's a pretty unfazed guy. Very serious. Not too emotional, or softish. You know what I mean."

Gohan reached out for the last mug on the desk, hesitating before grabbing the handle. He stared down at the contents swirling around in contemplation and decided against it. The mug clanked against the desk surface as Krillin's pleaded with him.

"I was kind of wondering if you would go talk to him? He practically demanded I leave The Hideout when I pressed the issue. If he's going to talk to anyone it's got to be you. You're practically his son."

The last bit made Gohan chuckle. "I don't know Krillin. If he didn't want to talk about it, maybe we should just leave it alone."

Krillin stood up and walked towards Gohan. "Could you just at least try. If he doesn't open up to you then I'll let it go, okay?"

"Okay, okay." Gohan stood up, pressing his palms against the armrests of his chair. "I'll go to talk to him tomorrow morning. I'll call you when I get back."

Krillin smiled widely. "Thanks Gohan. I just think, you know, he does.. has done so much for us that we can try and help him too sometimes. Even if he says he doesn't want it."

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When the morning light touched the western side of The Hideout, Gohan walked through the threshold Piccolos room. “Hey, Piccolo.”

Piccolo turned towards the similarly dressed young man, putting down the small, leather bound book in his hands on the small desk beside him. “Gohan, what brings you here this early.”

Gohan stretched his arms, his elbow popping loud enough to warrant a light echo. He laughed with some embarrassment. “Well, I guess I’m just a little rusty. I was wondering if we could spar?”

The upturned smirk told all Gohan needed to know before the two of them were passing blows hovering over the ground far below them.

One after the other, fists flying, blocking, dodging, power surging. Time was passing as the sun arched across the sky, but it only felt like moments. The adrenaline of the fight.

When Gohan began to tire slightly he landed a singular hit that propelled Piccolo back that anyone with even the best eyesight wouldn’t have seen. The super Sayain gives his all in the last throes of battle.

Piccolo gathered his equilibrium, and wiped the blood staining his lip against his forearm. He laughed as he landed on the grass below them. “You say you’re rusty, but you still got it, kid. You just got to put your mind to it.” He gently patted Gohan’s head, shaking his hair lightly.

Gohan plopped down to the ground and lay sprawling, taking in breaths. Piccolo sat down near him cross-legged. "I still think you have it in you to be the strongest, Gohan. But you've got a family now and your studies. You have more important battles to fight than just with your fists."

Gohan put his hands behind the back of his head. "I get discouraged sometimes. Everyone chastizes me for not keeping up with training. I'm 'a shame to the Sayain race,' or 'If only he could have---'" He shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if Dad is still proud of me, even if my progress is strictly academic." He pondered on the thought. "It really doesn't matter, does it? Between Dad and Vegta there won't be anyone as strong. There won't be anyone who can't save the world." He looked over at Piccolo. "You're pretty strong too Piccolo."

Piccolo let out a deep, humph. "You are still stronger than me. And I only get involved when I am needed."

"Right. Why should we constantly have to be ready for a threat that might never come?"

"They always do."

Gohan sighed, closing his eyes. "Well, if they need me I will always be there. I won't let anything happen to anyone. Not after all the things we faced before."

The subtle sounds of nature became more apparent with this silence. The shallow sounds of breathing between them. Piccolo looked off into the near distance, his voice calm and relaxed. "If it accounts for anything, I am very proud of the man you've become."

Arms were tightly wrapped around. "Thank you for never giving up on me Piccolo."

Piccolo smiled to himself as Gohan sat down next to him. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"A what?" Piccolo's voice turned deep again with seriousness.

"A girlfriend. You know, someone who you like and date." The look in Gohan's eyes was hopeful and sweet.

Tch- "I know what a girlfriend is. Why are you asking me this?"

"Well, Krillin stopped by and---"

"Not this again. Did that small man send you to do his bidding?"

Gohan got up and followed Piccolo when he began to walk away. He shouted, "I told him to stay out of it."

Gohan picked up his pace to meet the Namekian. "I don't even understand what Krillin was saying. But I wish you would just tell me what's going on. If not, you know he's going to get my dad involved."

Piccolo stopped and grunted. His arms crossed in defiance. Anything but Goku getting involved. Piccolo will NEVER hear the end of this. And if Goku makes a big deal out of this, it's everyone's problem.

But it's just his problem.

He stood quiet and tense. Gohan stood beside him stretching his legs and preparing to leave for home.

"I--" He started and stopped.

Hmmm, Gohan turned towards him.

"I don't even know how it happened. She came out of nowhere. Day after day, she prodded me with questions about myself. She sat with me as I meditated. She wasn't frightened of me." Piccolo was speaking so fervently and fastidiously that he was almost out of breath. "And I didn't know why or what to do. So I tried to show her that she shouldn't be so curious. I tried to scare her. I tried to stop her from coming around." His arms were tight against his chest. His chin pressed down into his collarbone.

Gohan watched Piccolo in awe. He's never seen this man act in such a way. The sorrow within the tightness of his shut eyes. The deep purple across his cheeks. Piccolo usually being a towering man, now pulling inward at his middle.

Gohan reached out and hugged him again. "Okay..." He looked at Piccolo, who bent his shoulders, which would normally be difficult to see over his shoulder pads. "Okay." Gohan's hand on Piccolo's forearm. His voice was so sweet and kind. "What did you do to scare her?"

Piccolo only took a deep breath. His booming voice was now almost a whisper. "I picked her up and took her in the air, flying. I flew and made myself out to be like another version of myself. I tried to make myself into King Piccolo." He's bent over near Gohan's shoulder, and Gohan lets him rest his forehead. "I made myself into something worth being frightened by. I didn't want her to trust so easily because she can easily become fodder like so many others have." His voice was almost nonexistent. "I could have killed her."

"But you didn't kill her, right?"

Piccolo shook his head. "But I could have."

"You didn't though. Sure, you could have maybe got your point across in a different way, but she's alright, right?"

"The look of terror in her eyes. The tears. I don't know why-- why I went--"

Gohan could hear the choked sobs before he pushed Piccolo back to face him. "Piccolo, I have known you my whole life and I've never seen you like this. You're like a whole different person. Usually, you're a very reserved guy, but I know these types of feelings. You must care a great deal for this girl. You're beating yourself up over the smallest thing." Piccolo kept his eyes closed shut, but his head lifted slightly, his arms relaxing as much as he could muster. "Hey, at least you don't explode or anything. You don't resort to your power because a lady is hurt or in danger. Blame it on the Sayain blood.”

Piccolo tried to straighten up and fix his posture. He wiped the tears that escaped from his eyes against his sleeve. Swallowing down his feelings deep into his chest.

“Piccolo, you’re allowed to have feelings like everyone else. Look at Dad, he’s an alien and he’s insane half the time.” Gohan laughed. “It’s okay to care about something for once. I know you care about me, about my family. But you can also care about something for yourself. If you care that deeply about this girl then I think you should talk to her. I think you should set things right between the two of you. Even if nothing comes of it and you just get closure.” Gohan pointed to Piccolo’s chest, pressing down into the fabric of the Namekian’s purple Gi. “If for all of us, but just for you.”

Gohan turned and started to walk away, calling over his shoulder. “You don’t need to bare the weight of this on your own. We’re always here for you. This is just a different type of fight.” He began hovering over the ground. “I have to get home before Videl gets angry.” He laughed. “Responsibilities.”

Piccolo could he his voice fading as he flew away. “All you have to do is try, Piccolo.”

Piccolo stood there, silent. The weight in his chest was still heavy. Do I care about this woman this greatly? He pressed his palm firmly against his chest, his cape flittering in the wind behind him. A heart beating strong behind his fingers. Is this love or understanding?

What I was once so sure about, I am at a loss.

Who do I want to be now?

(Just an extra reference photo here of our precious, green boy) Credit

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© 2024 givemeonereason

Don’t steal other people’s works! Respect creators!

Reblogs and likes appreciated :)

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To be added or removed from the tag list reach out through asks or messages. Please and thank you.

[descendant-of-evil]

Under Her Shadow| Gil LeGume

Pairing: Platonic!Gil x Mal's Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1,667

Trigger warning: this story contains themes of emotional neglect and family dysfunction.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a one-shot, so please don't be too harsh on me...

Summary: Basically it's a sad & lonely-reader meeting and befriending the ball-of-sunshine that is Gil LeGume...

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

You stand in a secluded alley on the Isle of the Lost, watching as Mal and her friends wreak havoc on the poor inhabitants of this forsaken place. You are Mal's younger sister, but it often feels like you don't even exist to your own mother, Maleficent, who openly favors Mal over you, always praising her older daughter's every move and putting her on a pedestal. Meanwhile, you are left in the shadows, feeling invisible and unwanted.

You watch as Mal struts around with her new friends, Jay, Evie, and Carlos. They are now the most infamous gang of Vks on the İsle, known as the "Core Four", and Mal is the leader. They’ve been inseparable since going on that crazy quest (that you weren’t part of) to retrieve Maleficent’s scepter: The Dragon’s Eye.

As you see them all laughing and joking together, a bitter wave of loneliness washes over you (despite knowing that deep down, you'll never fit in with them, no matter how hard you try). You have no one to talk to, no one to confide in, and no one to call a friend.

You try to approach Mal, to see if she'll pay any attention to you, but she brushes you off with a wave of her hand. She's too busy with her new friends, and you're just an afterthought. As the day wears on, you find yourself feeling more and more isolated. You watch as Mal and her friends plan their next scheme, and you know you'll never be a part of it.

Eventually, you decide to wander off on your own. You find yourself in the docks, sitting on a barrel, feeling sorry for yourself. You can't help but wonder why your mother doesn't love you as much as she loves Mal. What did you do wrong?

As you sit there, lost in your thoughts, a shadow falls over you. You look up to see a boy standing in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest. It's Gil LeGume, son of Gaston.

"What are you doing here all alone?" he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You shrug your shoulders, not really knowing how to answer.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concern etched on his face.

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill over. "No," you whisper.

Gil sits down beside you, and you're surprised at how comfortable you feel around him. You've always been too disgusted by Gaston and his sons to talk to them, but Gil seems different.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice soft.

Trusting your instincts, you take a deep breath and tell him everything. About how Maleficent favors Mal over you, about how you feel invisible and unwanted. About how you're always left out and never included.

Gil listens intently, his eyes never leaving yours. When you're finished, he puts his arm around you, and you lean into him. It's the first time in a long time that you've felt comforted.

"You know," Gil says, "Blood-Family isn't everything. You don't need the approval of your mother to be happy."

You look up at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that you shouldn't have to strive to be like Mal, for Maleficent’s approval. You don't have to follow in her footsteps. You can be your own person, and make your own choices. You can do whatever you want and be whomever you want to be… That’s what İ did and İ’ve never been happier."

You nod, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long time. Maybe he's right. Maybe you don't have to be in Mal's shadow forever.

Gil stands up, pulling you to your feet with him. "Come on," he says, "Let's go to Ursula’s Fish and Chips, I heard that the fries are on discount today."

You smile, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders. Maybe today isn't so bad after all. And maybe, just maybe, you'll find your own place in the world, away from Mal's shadow.

As you and Gil walk through the Isle of the Lost, you start to see things in a different light. You notice people and places that you've never seen before, and you begin to realize that there's a whole world outside of Mal's group.

You and Gil sit on a bench, eating your chips and talking about everything and nothing. You tell him about your favorite things, like reading and drawing, and he tells you about his love for pirating and sports.

It's the first time in a long time that you've had a real conversation with someone, and you realize how much you've been missing out on.

When the sun starts to set, Gil walks you back to your home. You thank him for spending time with you, and he gives you a smile that makes your heart flutter.

As you walk into your house, you're surprised to see Maleficent waiting for you. She looks angry, and you feel a pang of fear in your chest.

"Where have you been, Y/N?" she demands, her eyes narrowed.

"I was just out," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Out where?" she snaps.

"Just around," you say, feeling a knot form in your stomach.

Maleficent glares at you for a few more seconds before storming off, leaving you standing there, feeling small and insignificant.

You walk up to your room, closing the door behind you. You sit on your bed, staring at the wall, feeling tears sting your eyes. You thought maybe things were going to change, but now you feel like you're right back where you started.

As the night wears on, you can hear Mal and her friends laughing and having fun outside your window. You try to ignore them, but their voices carry, taunting you with their happiness.

You pull your blanket up around your shoulders, feeling alone and forgotten. You try to remind yourself of what Gil said earlier, that you don't need to be like Mal or her friends, that you can make your own choices.

But it's hard to believe that when you feel so unloved and unwanted.

Eventually, you fall asleep, but your dreams are plagued with visions of Mal and Maleficent, both of them looking down on you with disdain.

When you wake up in the morning, you feel drained and exhausted. You don't want to face another day of feeling like you don't belong.

But then you remember Gil's words, and you decide to try to take his advice. You grab a notebook and start to write, letting your imagination run wild.

As the day wears on, you find yourself getting lost in your poetry, forgetting about the world outside your bedroom window.

You're surprised when you hear a knock on the balcony of your window. You look up to see Gil standing there, a shy smile on his face.

"Hey," he says, "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out again today?"

You smile, feeling warmth in your chest. Maybe things are starting to change after all.

Together, you and Gil explore the Isle of the Lost, discovering new places and things to do. You feel like you're finally starting to find your own place in the world, as your own person.

As the sun starts to set, you and Gil sit on a rooftop overlooking the Isle of the Lost. You talk about everything and nothing, and you realize how much you've come to value his friendship.

"You know," Gil says, "You're pretty fun to hang out with."

You laugh, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Thanks," you say, feeling a happiness that you haven't felt in a long time.

As the night wears on, you and Gil walk back to your house. You say goodnight, feeling a sense of contentment that you haven't felt in a long time.

But as soon as you open the door to your house, that sense of contentment disappears. Maleficent is waiting for you, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

"Where have you been, this time?" she demands.

You feel a knot form in your stomach as you try to come up with an answer. "Out with a friend," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Maleficent glares at you, her eyes narrowing. "Out with a friend? Fool! Villains don't have friends, only allies… Your sister is a leader with three minions, why can’t you be more like her?" she says, her voice dripping with disdain.

You feel tears sting your eyes as you realize that nothing has changed. Maleficent still sees you as inferior to Mal, and nothing you do can change that.

But then you remember Gil's words, and you find a newfound strength inside of you. You stand up straighter, looking Maleficent in the eye.

"I'm my own person," you say, your voice steady. "I don't need to be like Mal to be happy."

Maleficent's expression softens for a moment, but then it hardens again. "You'll never be as good as Mal," she says, her voice cold.

You feel a sense of defeat wash over you as Maleficent walks away, leaving you standing there, alone and forgotten once again.

But then you remember the happiness you felt with Gil, and you realize that you don't need Maleficent's approval to be happy. You have your own interests and your own passions, and you don't need to live in Mal's shadow anymore.

From that moment on, you start to embrace your own identity. You spend most of your time with Gil, exploring the Isle of the Lost and discovering new things. You draw and read and write, finding joy in the things that make you unique.

And even though Maleficent still sees you as inferior to Mal, you now know that you don't need her approval to be happy. You have your own place in the world, away from Mal's shadow, and you've finally embraced the fact that you don't need to be anyone but yourself to be happy…

[orions-tears]

Jealousy - Sebastian Sallow

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x fem!Reader

Themes: Fluff and angy Sebastian

"It's funny, you know," says Imelda as she sits next to Sebastian on the couch.

He had been sitting in the common room staring into the fireplace for who knows how long. He looks over at her and folds his arms. "What's funny?"

"I just thought you'd be more upset," she hums.

He gives her a look a shifts to face her. "About what?"

She laughs and crosses her legs. "(Y/N) and Garreth."

His face drops and there's a hint of anger in his eyes. He puts his arm on the back of the couch and leans in. "What about (Y/N) and Garreth?"

"Well nothing's happened yet, but she's all over him so it's just a matter of time."

He balls his fists and stand, leaning the common room. He has to find you. Honestly, Garreth? He didn't think you'd be into someone so...Ugh. He shakes his head. Where in Merlin's beard are you? He walks into the viaduct courtyard and finally finds you. You're sitting on a bench on the far side, looking up at...Garreth...He's standing over you, one leg up on the bench. You notice the movement and look up to see him.

"Sebastian!" you shout, waving at him and smiling.

Why...? Why must you smile at him like that? It's not fair. He sneers at you turns away, leaving. If you want Garreth that much you can him.

You watch him leave and frown. You look at Garreth and he shrugs.

"What was that?" he asks

You shrug in response.

***

Ever since Sebastian walked away from you the other day, he's been avoiding you. You keep calling after him and he just leaves. What is going on with him? You sit down in the undercroft and rub your arm. You'd just gotten back from helping Poppy free a dragon. A poacher had hit you with Diffindo and your arm was still hurting. Madam Blainey would just tell tell Professor Black if you went to her so you need to try and fix it yourself. You shrug off your robe and unbutton your shirt a bit, just enough to pull your arm out. Thank Merlin that Ominis and Sebastian aren't here right now. You start wiping the blood away and wince a bit. It really got you this time. You hear the gate open and gasp, hiding behind a pillar.

You hear Sebastian walk in and cringe. Why him? He walks closer, muttering to himself, and goes silent when he sees your robe on the floor. He walks over and picks it up, looking around. Standing, he looks around the pillar and sees you, turning a bright red when he realises you're partially undressed. He quickly turns around, apologising profusely, but spins back around just as quickly.

"You're bleeding!"

He moves to stand in front of you and gently grabs your arm. He suddenly gets angry and looks at you.

"Did Garreth do this to you?"

You scoff in disbelief and shake your head. "Garreth? No! Why would he?"

He ignores the question and pulls you down to sit against the pillar, pulling his wand out. You laugh and lean in towards him. "Don't tell me your jealous, Sebastian," you hum.

"I just want to make sure your new boyfriend isn't hurting you," he says through his teeth.

You stare at him, blinking a couple times. Boyfriend? Hurting you? You start laughing and hit him with your free arm. He recoils and looks at you, slightly offended.

"You've been avoiding me because you think I'm dating Garreth? Oh, you're totally jealous!"

He shakes his head and doesn't respond, quiely casting Vulnera Sanentur on your wound. You watch him and frown. He's upset with you and still wants to help you. It's sweet. You lean back slightly and look up at the ceiling. Sebastian has always been very kind to you and you've always appreciated it, but you feel sort of bad this time. No matter how many times you tell him not to worry about you, he does anyway. You close your eyes as he finishes up the spell.

"I don't like Garreth like that. I mean, I do like someone, but it's not Garreth."

He looks up at you, furrowing his brows. "But Imelda said-"

You start laughing. "Really? You believe Imelda on that? You know she loves messing with you."

He looks down and sits back on the floor. He looks up at you, his gaze softening and takes a breath. "Do I get to know who it is then?"

You smile and lean in really close. He looks down at your shirt, seeing it's still undone, and blushes a bit.

"Do you want to know?"

Feeling your breath makes him flush an even darker shade of red. He's usually really good in these situations, but having you this close, shirt halfway off, makes him unnecessarily nervous. He nods, thinking this is it. This is the moment you finally kiss him. Imelda lied and you're finally proving you like him back. He watches you giggle and stand up, fixing your shirt.

"Maybe I'll tell you later, but for now I need to fix my uniform."

He stares at you, mouth open and scoffs. "You're so mean to me, you know..."

You smile and shrug, picking your robe up. He watches you walk out as he continues to lean on his hands. He smiles and all he can think is Merlin...You're perfect...

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