#grand conspiracy of ''silence''

[oacest]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

[sweetrevxnge]

Ghosts In The Snow

Chapter Seven

Pairing: Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader AU

Summary: Six long years had passed under the reign of the First Order. The bitter winters grew longer, and as they did, hope faded from the hearts of the citizens of Hosnian Prime. As a lieutenant in the Resistance cavalry, it was your duty to nurture that ember of hope. After a mission takes an unexpected turn, you are taken prisoner by a commander in the First Order, a mysterious man with an insatiable appetite—for violence, power, and you. In the coming days, you must keep the spark of your own hope alive from the dark confines of the Commander's castle.

Warnings: sexual content, violence, blood kink, gore, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter-specific CW: torture (what fun!), period-typical sexism

A/N: the dead speak! lmao at least that's what it feels like coming back after an entire YEAR??? I kinda got sucked into playing 1,200+ hours of baldur's gate 3, romancing a certain vampiric elf time and time again, which gave me plenty of inspiration to continue this fic. I never meant to be gone for so long, so if you're still interested in this story, please let me know!

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What have you done?

To say that you were restless would be an understatement. The first order of business when you returned to your chambers was finding a safe place to store your stolen weapon, and now, hours later, you had yet to succeed. 

You paced the room, wearing holes in the soles of your slippers as you wondered if you had made the right decision. It was unlike you to have sticky fingers, but then again, these were unprecedented times. Boldness meant survival.

Above all, you feared Ren was privy to your thievery, despite his silence on the walk back to your chambers. The prick of blood seemed enough to distract him for a moment, or perhaps he was practiced in hiding his tells. Either way, the consequences of him knowing gnawed at your sanity.

Rey had tended the hearth while you were away, ensuring your chambers were kept warm and filled with the familiar scent of dry wood. Her diligence as a handmaid proved to be an unforeseen complication in hiding your contraband.

Instinct urged you to keep it close to your bed, but reason told you it would be found too easily there. Same with the lounges circling the hearth, whose velour cushions could conceal many things if asked to. Though a dagger lodged in one’s rear would raise many concerns, as well as promise unspeakable punishments to come.

For these reasons, you ultimately settled on the bookcase.

Towering in the corner was a collection of books and texts, dense enough to put even the most curious scholars to sleep. A perfect place to hide a dagger.

Dragging a footstool over as a makeshift ladder, you reached for a leather-bound book embossed with gold letters along its spine. Imperium Nunquam Fuit. Though written in Old Basic, you understood its meaning.

The Empire That Never Was. A phrase coined by Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin to describe the destruction of Alderaan during the Revolution. An unsavory way to speak about a fallen civilization—considering he was the man responsible.

You made quick work of hollowing the historical text, skimming the page you’d turned to before defacing it. This passage detailed the last of the Imperial attacks on Alderaan, near the end of the Rebellion. One of the more infamous sieges of the war, earning its place in history with a tithe of blood and destruction.

The lines of script told the story of how Imperial soldiers salted Alderaan’s lands and butchered the citizens—babes and crones included. The Empire was thorough, wiping out an entire civilization over a mere conspiracy. With few survivors, and even fewer successors, Alderaanian blood was a rarity. You supposed that was one of the many things that set General Organa apart from the rest.

Considering the contents, it was a book of little interest to the First Order—a perfect hiding place.

The point of your blade pierced the parchment with ease, as if slicing through a block of butter rather than a thousand-page text. Tragic as it was to ruin a book like this, what other choice did you have? Hosnian Prime’s Grand Archives likely stored dozens of copies; one locked away in the depths of the First Order’s fortress would not be missed.

The fit was snug, but it would do for now. As for the pages you’d carved out, they laid in a pile at your feet, a messy reminder that your room was not private.

You slammed the book shut and returned it, hurrying to clean the shreds of paper scattered across the red carpets. Despite your efforts, the fragments proved too difficult to clean with just your hands alone, forcing you to sweep them into your skirts.

As you carried the pieces to the hearth, a gentle knock sounded through the oak doors. “Gods,” you muttered as you rushed towards the fire, dumping the pages unceremoniously onto the crackling wood.

Another rap on the door.

“Just a moment, please!” It was impossible to hide the panic in your voice as you prodded at the withering pages with an iron poker. Time seemed to slow as you watched the flames engulf the ink, turning Alderaan’s history to ash once more.

“It’s me, my lady.” Muffled by the wood, Rey’s voice was barely audible over the fire, hissing with fresh fodder. If any good came from her being your visitor, it was her staunch etiquette. She would not barge in uninvited—unlike some of the castle’s residents.

Brushing the slivers of evidence from your gown, you opened the doors, mindful of the lingering ash in the hearth. “My apologies. I was…” You cleared your throat, smoothing out your skirts before finishing your lie. “Indecent.”

Demure as ever, Rey dropped her gaze as she curtseyed before you. “It’s no matter, my lady. I was sent to fetch you; the Supreme Leader requests your presence.”

The moment his name left her lips, cotton filled your mouth, forcing its way down your throat as you swallowed your fear. What reason would the Supreme Leader have to summon you—at this late hour, no less?

Your thoughts immediately turned to Commander Ren. Perhaps he had noticed your theft after all and reported your offence to Snoke. If that were true, you vowed to slice his throat first. 

“Did he give a reason?” you asked, trying to maintain your resolve.

Rey’s throat knocked in her slender neck. “He did not say.”

Part of you wanted to take the damned blade with you, but recklessness wouldn’t serve you. Though you did not recognize him as your ruler, you were not keen on adding treason to your ledger.

You sighed, coming to stand beside Rey at the door, shoulders pressed back and hands folded over your lap. “I’m surprised he didn’t send you with manacles.”

She said nothing, but the trace smile on her lips told you all that you needed to know. You couldn’t blame her for watching her tongue around you. Given what transpired last night, you would do the same in her position.

The two of you walked in near silence to the throne chambers, passing countless tall windows with panes stained a deep red, dark enough to block most light from entering. What little light did manage to seep through painted the halls crimson, giving the appearance of blood spilling over the floor.

The burned pages of text flashed in your mind.

Every step forward was committed to memory, including the number of paces between notable fixtures, as well as where each one stood in relation to your chambers. Still, there was no sign of an access point in this section of the castle. But your resolve did not falter. If there was a means of entry into this accursed fortress, there must also be a means of escape.

As you rounded the corner to another corridor, you glanced at your handmaid, noticing that her usual singular bun had evolved into three smaller ones, meeting the nape of her neck in a uniform line.

“You’ve changed your hair.” The observation came out as more of a question than a comment.

“Yes, my lady,” she said, delicate fingers reaching to touch the one near her collar. “An effort to be closer to the gods.”

You furrowed your brows. “How’s that?”

“As there are three of them, there are three knots. We servants are forbidden to worship openly, so we find other ways.” She closed her eyes for a moment, tilting her chin towards her chest. “Divine strength allows clarity of the mind.”

While you were not necessarily a pious woman, you were familiar enough with the gods from your upbringing to understand what she meant. As a child, you often prayed at your family’s shrine, asking for a bountiful harvest, good health, and, most of all, peace in the realm. For many years, they fulfilled your wishes. Now, your faith provided you with little comfort.

“Certainly,” you said, not wanting to discuss the subject any further. “Are we nearly there?”

“Just down this hall,” she said, her tone clipped. Either she was annoyed with the change of subject, or just as uneasy about seeing the Supreme Leader as you were.

True to her word, Rey came to a stop near the end of the corridor, leaving a short distance between you and the two looming oak doors, with iron enforcements woven into the grain and a guard posted on either side. Their faces were concealed by crimson veils, the signature regalia of the Praetorian Guard. Those tasked with protecting the ruler of these lands, whether they carried the title of Chancellor, Emperor, or Supreme Leader.

The warmth drained from your face at the sight.

“This is where I leave you, my lady.” Her face lacked its usual peachy hue, her freckles washed away by the candlelight. “The Supreme Leader does not allow us to enter these chambers, save for when he is passing judgment upon us.”

Standing before the faceless guards, you understood her unease.

“Will you be here to escort me back?” you asked, palms growing damp as you clutched the fabric of your gown.

“It is late. I must turn in for the evening.” She shifted her weight, eyes darting between you and the guards, whose presence seemed to loom over you from meters away. “Besides, I should think you do not require my assistance from this point.”

With that, she turned on her heels and retreated, her steps muted as she faded into the stretching darkness of the hallway. Turning to face the guards, dread settled in your stomach. Surely these warriors would not accompany you back to your chambers.

You studied them for a moment, the strategist in your mind seeking to understand what threat they posed. Both were tall and well-fed, given the size of their uniforms. The one to your left carried a bisento, while the other held a tall voulge, both equally unnerving. Their blades were pristine, foreign to combat. You wondered if the same could be said for those wielding them, too.

As if seeking to test your theory, they readied their weapons as you approached, each blade humming as it sliced through the air.

You came to a halt, the hair on the back of your neck now stiff. “I’ve been summoned by the Supreme Leader.”

The two remained poised to strike for a long moment before returning to their sentry state, offering one another a brisk nod as they pushed the heavy doors open, revealing the grand throne room. With tentative steps, you approached, pausing at the threshold.

Black marble columns lined the walkway to the throne, each manned by a knight of the Praetorian Guard, their crimson armor matching the First Order banners draped along the cobbled walls. Above the throne was the room’s sole window, with red stained panels filling the space between the spokes of the First Order insignia. Six steps carved of the same dark mineral as the columns led to the throne, lined with black velvet upholstery and a towering slate backing. Perched comfortably in the seat was Supreme Leader Snoke, draped in golden robes that flowed over his limbs like smelted ore, barely concealing the matching jewelry wrapped snugly around his fingers.

The paragon of humility.

He was joined by another: the fire-haired General Hux. His gaze snapped to you as the doors creaked open, beady eyes piercing you like darts from across the chamber.

“Ah, my guest of honor,” Snoke crooned, clasping his hands before his chest in delight. His tone fell icy as he turned to address the General. “Leave us.”

Confusion spread across his pale features as he turned to face Snoke once more. “But, Supreme Leader, there is still much to be discussed.”

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear. You are to leave these chambers at once, General Hux, or you will be removed.” Snoke’s gravelly voice rumbled through the hall with the force of a thousand footsteps, and reluctantly, Hux obeyed.

You watched the scene play out before you from the safety of the doorway, your feet rooted to the floor.

Snoke relaxed in his chair once more, beckoning you in with a hand gesture. “Please, come in, darling.”

Willing your feet to move, you did as he asked, eyes flitting between the Praetorian guard and the approaching General Hux, whose expression could only be described as irate as he brushed past you, black coat fluttering behind him.

Your heart was lodged in your throat as you neared the throne, feeling like a lamb being shepherded towards the maw of a lion. You stopped in line with the last of the guards before the Supreme Leader, leaving some distance still.

Snoke watched you with keen eyes, a stark contrast to his stoic front. “I do hope you are well, my dear. I can only imagine the days spent in anticipation of your wedding are agonizing.”

You frowned. “Is that why you summoned me? To ask me about my wedding?”

“Of course not. But pleasantries are the foundation of any proper conversation.” The humor fell from his voice. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” The words left a sour taste in your mouth, like wine crafted from grapes plucked too early.

Satisfied, he settled back into his throne, resting his hands over the ornate armrests. “See? Deference needn’t be cumbersome.”

His mocking tone made your vision red, but you held your tongue. Invisible threads tied you to him and his guards, each one pulled taught in the silence. It would take nothing more than a misstep to cause one of them to snap.

He spoke again, this time with authority. “It has come to my attention that you are unaware of what is expected of you as a noblewoman.”

You let out a terse exhale. “I suppose I am. Perhaps that is because of the conditions under which I am becoming one.”

A thin smile curled on the Supreme Leader’s lips. “These are unprecedented times, lieutenant.”

The emphasis on your title made your skin crawl. Snoke was calculated, sadistic. With his power, he was untouchable. The red veils surrounding you served as a constant reminder of his invulnerability.

“Now, I am curious. How did you manage that?” he added, tilting his head in intrigue. “A commoner like yourself rising to the rank of a commanding officer is no easy feat—even more so for a woman.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I hardly see how this is relevant to my new status as a noblewoman.”

Despite your outward naivety, you knew too well what being a noblewoman would entail. You’d known from the moment your betrothal was announced. You were to be the docile wife of a commander, providing him an heir, a spare, and a warm bed whenever he pleased. Your military career would be swept away by the title of Lady Ren, all traces of your independence lost to time. You couldn’t think of anything less appealing.

“As a Lady of the First Order, you will be granted privileges seldom given to others, such as this.” Snoke motioned to the surrounding space, and you found yourself unable to decipher his meaning.

He isn’t referring to having an audience with the ruler of the realm as a privilege, is he?

He continued, “The safety of the castle. Our stronghold. You will be protected within its walls.”

Oh. Of course.

You suppressed a scoff. “I find that hard to believe, considering Commander Ren has attempted to strangle me twice over since my arrival.”

“I see,” he mused, pressing an index finger to his lips in thought. “My mercurial underling. If only his mind were half as quick as his temper.”

Somehow, your first instinct was to defend Commander Ren from his inflaming remark. While the Supreme Leader was correct about Ren’s temperament, he didn’t see the side of him that you saw—however infrequently it may have showed itself. There was a tenderness to him, fleeting in nature, like a luminescent star ripping through the night sky. You saw it in his eyes as he sat before your hearth, again when he laced your bodice.

Or perhaps what you felt was just the lingering effects of his charm.

Snoke’s rough voice broke your reverie. “Nevertheless, I’m sure Commander Ren had his reasons. Just as I’m sure whatever actions may have led to these outbursts will cease henceforth, won’t they?”

Before you could answer, a searing pain sliced through your skull, its barbed tendrils reaching into the deepest part of your consciousness. Every muscle in your body became succinctly rigid, frozen in place as an invisible force suspended you midair. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to call out; for the gods, for your mother—even for Commander Ren.

“You will behave yourself, insolent girl, or you will be disposed of.”

Despite your efforts, no sound would come from your throat. An eternity seemed to pass as the Supreme Leader kept you trapped, holding your feet to the fire of his anger. Mustering every ounce of strength, you forced your chin down in agreement, hot tears distorting your vision.

Without moving a muscle, he relinquished his hold on you, your knees cracking against the marble floor in an instant. The violet fabric of your gown pooled around you like the blood of a slain enemy, collecting the tears that fell from your chin.

Before you could find your voice, the creak of wood and subsequent rustling of armor behind you swiped your attention. The guards had readied their weapons, aiming at something other than you.

You flinched as the doors slammed shut, followed by a heavy—yet quick—footfall.

“What is the meaning of this?” Commander Ren’s voice was biting, filled with untamed fury as he entered the grand hall. His cloak rippled behind him like the night sea, silver sword in hand as he marched forward.

You scurried backwards on your tender palms, caught between his rage and the throne. He drew closer, only stopping at the intersection of two of the guards’ blades.

“Commander Ren, what a welcome surprise,” Snoke crooned. “Your bride was just leaving.”

His eyes found yours in an instant—wild and dark. Silently, you pleaded for his cooperation. If he were to strike at the guard, your life would be forfeit.

Outnumbered by eight blades, he stowed his own. “What have you done?” he demanded.

Though he was looking at you, his question was directed at the man atop the throne, whose enthusiasm at his subordinate’s display was palpable.

“Nothing you have not already done yourself,” Snoke growled. With that, he stood to his feet and stepped down from his throne, closing the gap you’d deliberately left and standing over you. “See her back to her chambers, Commander.”

A snarl flashed across Ren’s face as he pushed past the guards and kneeled before you, extending a gloved hand for you. Though he was quiet, his eyes were heavy with guilt.

With legs like a new foal, you accepted his help, gripping his hand like a lifeline as you stood. “Thank you.” The words floated from your mouth, burning your throat as they passed through.

He only nodded in return, guiding you away from the chamber. Because of his intrusion, the outer guards were now sealed inside, allowing some privacy in the dimly lit hall.

Ren came to a halt, moving both of his cool hands to rest on your shoulders, inspecting you. “Are you hurt?”

Averting your eyes, you shook your head dismissively, ignoring how your knees seemed to rattle with every step.

He let out an amused hum. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you will, Commander,” you managed to say through your dry mouth. “I’m fine.”

At that, the two of you carried on in silence, meandering through the castle, passing knights and servants alike down each corridor. Ren’s emotion rolled off of him like heat from a flame, slowly dwindling the further you were from the throne room.

As your legs regained their strength, so did your voice. “How did you know I was in there?”

“Does that really matter?”

“I’d say so. For all I know, you’re the reason he summoned me in the first place,” you argued, head spinning as you tried to recognize your surroundings. Only when you realized these walls were unfamiliar did your pace falter. “Stop!”

He obeyed, meeting you where you stood. “What?”

“Answer me.”

He let out a terse breath. “No, I am not the reason he summoned you. Come, we can discuss this later.”

At that, he began his stride again, but you didn’t follow. “No. I will not take one more step. Not before I know where you are taking me, as it is clearly not my chambers.”

“I’m bringing you somewhere private,” he finally answered.

“Are my chambers not private enough?”

“By the gods,” he hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As I’m sure you’re well aware, it is unbecoming of me to be seen entering your chambers before we are wed.”

You scoffed. “How pragmatic of you.”

Ignoring your comment, he continued, “After your encounter with the Supreme Leader, I think it’s best if we avoid unnecessary speculation—for your sake.”

You couldn’t argue with him. If Snoke was inclined to submit you to the rawest agony over the slightest display of defiance, you could only imagine what else he was capable of.

“Fine,” you conceded, seeing reason in his words. “But let it be known that my cooperation does not reflect my satisfaction with this decision.”

A smile ghosted over his lips. “I know.”

[novaursa]

- Note: So, I'll give this a go here. Those who followed my work on AO3 will notice some changes, but the gist is the same. Also, please be kind. If you don't like it, just scroll over it. I post stuff for people to enjoy them and escape the burdens of their lives with me for a while. There is no grand conspiracy here. Just read and relax. Also, this is an AU fanfic and my own personal toxic blend of the show and the book(s).

- Title: zōbrie ānogar

- Rating: Explicit (18+)

- Romance: (Aegon II/OFC)

- Warning: All flags are up for this work. Aegon is also a warning on his own.

- Summary: It was written by Archmaester Gyldayn that on the day Princess Vaella Targaryen was born she was supposed to die. Until she fed upon her twin, Baelon. And when she turned one and five, she sought her end in the lair of Cannibal, in Dragonmont. But instead of feasting upon her, the dragon wept with her. And Archmaester had written a lengthy thesis on how wild dragon recognized a kindred soul in the Princess, as they both dined on their kin.

- Word count: 9 000+

- Parts: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Final

Part 1

The air was thick with anticipation and the clang of swords as the tournament raged on in the fields outside King's Landing. Knights clashed in the lists, banners fluttered, and the crowd roared, their cheers echoing through the castle walls. Yet inside the royal chambers, the atmosphere was tense and fraught with fear.

Queen Aemma Arryn was in labor, her cries of pain mingling with the distant sounds of celebration. King Viserys I Targaryen paced the length of the chamber, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, worry etched deeply into his face. This was the moment he had long awaited, the birth of his male heir. But the labor was not progressing as it should.

Maester Mellos hovered nearby, his brow furrowed as he consulted with the midwives. "The babe is in breech, Your Grace," he said, his voice grave. "We cannot turn it. If we do not act soon, we will lose them both."

Viserys halted, his heart pounding. "What can be done?" he demanded, though he feared the answer.

"We can attempt to save the child," Mellos replied, his tone heavy with the weight of the decision. "But it will mean sacrificing the queen."

The king's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Aemma, her face pale and slick with sweat, her eyes filled with agony and desperation. She had given him so much, had borne the burden of his ambitions and dreams. And now, he was faced with a choice that would haunt him forever.

"Aemma," he whispered, kneeling beside her and taking her hand. "My love, they say... they say they can save the babe."

Aemma's eyes met his, wide with fear and pain. "Do what you must," she gasped. "Save our child, Viserys. Promise me."

Viserys felt his heart shatter, but he nodded, pressing a kiss to her trembling hand. "I promise."

The maester and midwives moved quickly, their faces set with grim determination. Viserys stood back, his hands shaking, as they prepared for the terrible task. He could hear the clamor of the tournament outside, a cruel reminder of the celebration that had turned into a nightmare.

The room was filled with the sounds of Aemma's cries and the maester's steady instructions. Viserys felt his world narrowing to this moment, every second stretching into an eternity. And then, a piercing wail broke through the tension.

"It's a boy," one of the midwives exclaimed, holding up the tiny, wriggling form. The babe's cry was strong, a sign of life and promise.

Viserys felt a brief surge of relief, but it was short-lived. "Wait," the maester said, his eyes widening in surprise. "There is another."

The midwives worked quickly, and soon another child was brought into the world, a girl this time, smaller and silent. The room fell into a hushed silence as they examined her, worry etched on their faces.

"She is not crying," one of the midwives whispered, her voice trembling.

Viserys stepped forward, his heart aching. "Vaella," he said softly, naming her after an ancient Targaryen ancestor. "My daughter, Vaella."

The maester nodded, though his expression remained grave. "She lives, but she is weak."

The twins were placed side by side, Baelon strong and crying, while Vaella lay silent and still. Viserys looked down at them, his heart torn between joy and sorrow. He reached out to touch Vaella's tiny hand, and in that moment, her eyes fluttered open, indigo and bright, meeting his with a quiet intensity.

"She will be strong," he murmured, a fierce determination filling him. "She will live."

The room was filled with the mingled sounds of the babes and the distant roar of the tournament, a poignant reminder of the life and death that intertwined in the halls of power. Viserys knew that this day would be remembered, not just for the birth of his heirs, but for the choices and sacrifices that had marked its passing.

...

A few hours later, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen arrived at the nursery, her heart heavy with grief for her mother. She had loved Aemma deeply and the pain of her loss cut through her like a blade. The celebrations outside had turned into whispers of tragedy, and the joy of new life was mingled with the sorrow of death.

Rhaenyra’s steps were slow and measured as she walked through the halls, her mind reeling from the news. She understood, intellectually, why her father had made the choice he did, but it did little to soothe the anger and resentment boiling within her. She had wanted a brother, yes, but not at the cost of her mother’s life. And now, not only had she lost her mother, but her father had chosen a name for her sister without consulting her. She had wanted her sister to be named Visenya, after their legendary ancestor.

As she entered the nursery, she found the room softly lit and quiet, save for the occasional murmur of the maids tending to the infants. Rhaenyra’s gaze fell first upon her brother, Baelon, lying peacefully in his cradle, a small dragon egg nestled beside him, warm and glowing with promise.

"He's so small," she whispered to herself, reaching out to touch Baelon's tiny hand. His fingers curled around hers instinctively, and she felt a pang of tenderness mixed with her sorrow.

Then, she turned her attention to the cradle beside her brother's. Her newborn sister, Vaella, lay there, wide awake and silent. Vaella was pale, almost translucent, with an ethereal quality that unsettled Rhaenyra. Unlike Baelon, there was no dragon egg to keep her warm, yet the babe seemed content, her indigo eyes staring up at Rhaenyra with a calm intensity.

Rhaenyra knelt beside the cradle, her heart aching. "Hello, Vaella," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I'm your sister, Rhaenyra."

"Hello, little sister," Rhaenyra said softly, reaching out to gently stroke Vaella’s cheek. The baby did not react, her gaze unblinking. "Father named you Vaella, but I would have called you Visenya. A name worthy of a queen."

Vaella’s tiny hand moved slightly, as if reaching out, and Rhaenyra took it gently in her own. She marveled at how small and delicate Vaella was, a stark contrast to the strong and robust Baelon.

"She doesn't cry," one of the maids said quietly, approaching Rhaenyra. "She hasn't made a sound since she was born."

Rhaenyra nodded, her eyes never leaving Vaella's face. "She will be strong," she said, echoing her father's earlier words. "She has to be."

The maid hesitated before speaking again. "Your Grace, we were instructed to place a dragon egg in Vaella's cradle as well, but..."

"But what?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone sharp.

"We couldn't find one that seemed... right," the maid replied, her voice faltering. "The eggs are all warm, but none of them felt suitable for her."

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardened. "Then find one," she ordered. "She deserves the same chance as Baelon."

The maid bowed her head and quickly left the room. Rhaenyra turned back to Vaella, her expression softening. "I wanted you to be named Visenya. A name worthy of a queen," she whispered, brushing a finger gently across Vaella's cheek. "But Vaella is a strong name too. You will make it strong."

Vaella’s eyes remained fixed on her, unblinking and serene. Rhaenyra felt a strange sense of calm wash over her, as if the silent babe was imparting some of her tranquility.

She leaned closer, her voice a soft murmur. "I will protect you, Vaella. I will protect both of you. Mother's gone, but you have me. And I will not let anything happen to you."

Rhaenyra stayed there, watching over her siblings, her heart heavy with the weight of her promises and the sorrow of her loss. She knew that the days ahead would be fraught with challenges and dangers, but in that quiet moment, surrounded by the fragile beginnings of new life, she found a glimmer of hope and determination.

The nursery was a haven of calm amidst the storm, and as the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Rhaenyra vowed that she would honor her mother's memory by standing strong for her family, no matter the cost.

...

The next day dawned with a hushed stillness that seemed to permeate the entire Red Keep. The jubilation of the previous day had been tempered by the tragedy of Queen Aemma's death, but the court still held a flicker of hope in the promise of the newborn twins. Servants moved quietly through the halls, attending to their duties with a solemn air.

In the nursery, the maids and servants who had tended to the twins throughout the night were greeted by a scene of unexpected and harrowing sorrow. The once lively Baelon, who had been sleeping peacefully beside his dragon egg, was now eerily still in his cradle. His tiny chest no longer rose and fell with breath, his eyes closed in eternal slumber.

The discovery sent a shockwave through the nursery. Gasps of horror and grief filled the room as the realization settled in. The King's heir, his long-awaited son, was dead. The dragon egg that had been placed beside him now seemed like a cruel mockery of the life that had been so abruptly extinguished.

"Fetch the Maester," one of the servants choked out, her hands trembling as she tried to comprehend the tragedy before her. "Quickly!"

Maester Mellos arrived swiftly, his face a mask of concern as he took in the scene. He approached Baelon's cradle with a heavy heart, gently placing his fingers against the babe's tiny neck, hoping against hope for a sign of life. There was none. He bowed his head, his heart sinking with the weight of the loss.

As Mellos turned to the cradle beside Baelon's, a sudden and piercing wail filled the air. It was a sound so unexpected and startling that it caused everyone in the room to freeze. Vaella, the silent and still babe, had come alive with a cry that seemed to resonate with a power far beyond her fragile form.

"By the Seven," Mellos muttered, his eyes wide with astonishment. He moved to Vaella's side, noting the newfound vitality in her eyes, the strength in her cries. She was more alive now than she had been since her birth.

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, their grief for Baelon now mingled with a sense of unease. Mellos looked down at the wailing Vaella, his mind racing. It was an old superstition, a whisper from the past: when one twin died, the other sometimes took their soul, their strength. It was said to be a bad omen, a dark portent.

Mellos kept his thoughts to himself, though the notion unsettled him deeply. "It is a tragedy," he said aloud, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "The Princess Vaella has found her voice, it seems, but the loss of Prince Baelon is a heavy blow to us all."

One of the servants, a young woman with tear-streaked cheeks, looked at Mellos with a mixture of fear and confusion. "What does it mean, Maester?" she asked. "Why now?"

Mellos sighed, shaking his head. "I do not know," he admitted. "But we must inform the King. This loss... it will cripple him."

The servants nodded solemnly, their hearts heavy with the task ahead. As they prepared to deliver the devastating news to King Viserys, Mellos turned back to Vaella. The babe had quieted, her cries giving way to a strange, serene silence. He couldn't shake the feeling that something profound had shifted in the balance of life and death within this room.

"I will note this in my journal," Mellos murmured to himself, making a mental note to document the strange events surrounding the twins. He would keep his suspicions to himself for now, but the memory of Vaella's piercing wail would haunt him for years to come.

As the maids and servants moved to carry out their somber duties, the weight of the tragedy settled over the Red Keep like a shroud. The joyous celebrations of new life had been overshadowed by death, and the realm would feel the ripples of this loss for years to come. King Viserys, now a father and a widower, would have to navigate the treacherous waters of grief and responsibility, his heart forever marked by the sorrow of this day.

...

The day of the funeral dawned cold and overcast, the sky heavy with clouds that mirrored the somber mood of the assembled mourners. All gathered before the grand pyre that had been erected outside the Red Keep, a stark testament to the loss of both Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon. The scent of incense and the crackling of torches filled the air, but a profound silence hung over the gathering, broken only by the distant sound of waves against the shore.

King Viserys stood closest to the pyre, his shoulders slumped and his eyes red-rimmed from sleepless nights of weeping. His grief was a palpable thing, weighing down the very air around him. He seemed almost a ghost of himself, hollowed out by the dual tragedies that had befallen him.

A little further down, Rhaenyra stood with her newborn sister Vaella cradled in her arms. She held the babe tightly, as if drawing strength from her tiny, warm presence. Vaella was silent, her indigo eyes wide and watchful, taking in the scene with an uncanny stillness.

Behind Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon Targaryen watched with a mixture of sorrow and concern. He stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. "It's time," he said softly. "Your father needs you now."

Rhaenyra turned her tear-streaked face towards her uncle, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and resignation. "I will never be a son," she whispered, her voice trembling. "And neither will Vaella."

Daemon's expression softened, and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "You are stronger than any son, Rhaenyra. And your father needs that strength now more than ever."

Taking a deep breath, Rhaenyra nodded. She stepped forward, feeling the weight of her duty pressing down upon her young shoulders. She could feel the eyes of the gathered nobles and courtiers upon her, their silent expectation adding to her burden. She glanced at her father, who seemed lost in his own world of sorrow, barely aware of his surroundings.

With tears streaming down her face, Rhaenyra looked up at Syrax, her beloved dragon, who waited patiently beside the pyre. The golden beast’s eyes glowed with a fierce intelligence, and she seemed to understand the gravity of the moment.

"Dracarys," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice breaking.

In an instant, Syrax unleashed a torrent of dragonfire. The flames roared to life, consuming the pyre in a brilliant blaze that lit up the overcast sky. The heat was intense, and the air filled with the acrid scent of burning wood and flesh. The mourners stepped back, shielding their faces from the searing heat, but Rhaenyra stood her ground, her eyes fixed on the flames.

The crackling of the fire was accompanied by the soft sobs and murmurs of those gathered. The loss of their queen and the young prince was a blow to the realm, and the grief of the people was a reflection of the profound sorrow felt by their king.

Rhaenyra looked down at Vaella, her tiny face illuminated by the firelight. "You are all I have left of her," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her sister’s forehead. "I will protect you, always."

Vaella gazed up at her, silent and solemn, as if she understood the weight of her sister's words. Rhaenyra felt a fierce protectiveness surge within her. She might never be the son her father had wished for, but she would be strong for him, for her family, and for her realm.

As the pyre burned, Rhaenyra stood with her sister in her arms, a silent vow forming in her heart. She would honor her mother's memory, and she would ensure that Vaella grew up knowing the love and strength that had defined their mother. The flames roared higher, a testament to the fire that burned within the Targaryen bloodline, a fire that Rhaenyra vowed would never be extinguished.

...

Six months had passed since the tragic deaths of Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon, and King Viserys had made a decision that shocked the realm. He chose to marry Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his Hand, Otto Hightower. This alliance was seen by many as a strategic move to stabilize the kingdom, but it also stirred whispers and discontent among the nobles. In a further surprising move, Viserys named his daughter Rhaenyra as the heir to the Iron Throne, a decision that defied tradition and set tongues wagging throughout Westeros.

Another year passed, and Queen Alicent gave birth to a son, Aegon. The realm celebrated the birth of a male heir, but the decision to place him in the nursery with Vaella, who continued to grow normally and thrive, added an interesting dynamic to the royal family. Despite Rhaenyra's attempts to give her sister a dragon egg to hatch, Vaella showed no interest in any of them. After several unsuccessful tries, Rhaenyra stopped bringing the eggs, accepting that Vaella was different in her own way.

The connection between Aegon and Vaella was immediate and profound. Vaella's quiet presence seemed to calm the newborn prince, who basked in the comfort of his half-sister's company. This bond often agitated Rhaenyra, who felt a mixture of protectiveness and jealousy. She would frequently 'steal' Vaella away from the nursery, taking her for walks around the Red Keep or in the gardens, much to the dismay and complaints of the servants. Aegon would become fussy and cry until Vaella was returned to him, a fact that both frustrated and amused Rhaenyra.

One sunny afternoon, Rhaenyra and Vaella were walking through the lush gardens of the Red Keep. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided a serene backdrop. Vaella, now a curious toddler with pale blonde hair and indigo eyes, held tightly to Rhaenyra's hand, her steps wobbly but determined.

"Do you like the flowers, Vaella?" Rhaenyra asked, kneeling down to pick a bright red rose and handing it to her sister.

Vaella nodded, her eyes wide with wonder as she examined the flower. "Pretty," she murmured, her voice soft and clear.

Rhaenyra smiled, but her expression quickly turned somber. "You know, sometimes I wish things were different," she said, more to herself than to Vaella. "I wish Mother were here to see you grow. She would have loved you so much."

Vaella looked up at her sister, her indigo eyes filled with an understanding far beyond her years. "Mama," she said simply, reaching up to touch Rhaenyra's face.

Rhaenyra's heart ached with the weight of her sister's innocence and the loss they both shared. "Yes, Mama," she whispered, hugging Vaella tightly. "But you have me, and I will always be here for you."

As they continued their walk, they passed a group of servants who were nervously whispering among themselves. One of them, a young maid, approached Rhaenyra hesitantly. "Your Grace, Prince Aegon is very fussy. He won't stop crying without Princess Vaella."

Rhaenyra sighed, feeling the familiar pang of frustration. "He can wait a little longer," she replied curtly. "Vaella needs fresh air and sunshine."

The maid bowed her head, retreating with a worried glance. Rhaenyra led Vaella to a shaded bench under a sprawling oak tree, lifting her sister onto her lap. "You know, Vaella, sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right," she confessed, brushing a strand of hair from Vaella's face. "But when I'm with you, it feels like everything is okay."

Vaella looked up at her with a solemn expression. "Love Nyra," she said, wrapping her small arms around her sister's neck.

Rhaenyra felt tears prick her eyes, but she blinked them away, smiling through her sadness. "And I love you, my sweet Vaella," she whispered. "Always."

As they sat together in the peaceful garden, the bond between the sisters grew stronger, a beacon of light amidst the complexities of court life and the looming shadows of their past. The challenges ahead were many, but in each other's company, they found solace and strength to face whatever the future held.

...

Two years had passed, and Vaella continued to grow normally, blossoming into a lively child. She spent her days in the company of her half-brother Aegon, who refused to be parted from her for long. This inseparable bond often infuriated Rhaenyra, who cherished her moments alone with Vaella but had to contend with Aegon's tantrums whenever his sister was taken away.

Despite Rhaenyra's best efforts, Aegon and Vaella were rarely separated. The young prince's attachment to his half-sister was so strong that the servants, exasperated by Aegon's constant cries, eventually allowed the two children to sleep in the same crib. It was the only way to ensure Aegon's peaceful slumber.

In the royal chambers, Alicent Hightower, now visibly pregnant with her second child, often expressed her concerns to King Viserys about this arrangement. One evening, as she lay in bed with Viserys beside her, she broached the subject once more.

"This is not healthy, Viserys," Alicent said, her voice tinged with frustration. "Aegon is far too dependent on Vaella. They should not be sleeping in the same crib. It's not proper."

Viserys, weary from the day's duties, sighed and rubbed his temples. "They're just children, Alicent. They'll grow out of it. Let them be."

Alicent's eyes flashed with irritation. "It's not just about them growing out of it. It sets a bad precedent. Aegon should be learning to be independent, not clinging to his sister all the time."

Viserys shrugged, clearly not wanting to engage in another argument. "They're happy, and they're safe. That's all that matters."

Alicent opened her mouth to retort, but then thought better of it. Instead, she turned away, fuming silently. Her pregnancy had made her more sensitive to the disturbances in the household, and Aegon's dependency on Vaella was just one of many concerns weighing on her mind.

Meanwhile, in the nursery, Rhaenyra watched as Aegon and Vaella played together. Aegon's laughter echoed through the room as Vaella chased him, her own giggles filling the air. Rhaenyra felt a mix of love and exasperation as she approached them.

"Vaella, come with me," Rhaenyra said, holding out her hand. "Let's go for a walk."

Aegon's face immediately crumpled, and he clung to Vaella. "No! Vaella stays here!"

Rhaenyra's patience was wearing thin. "Aegon, you can't always have her with you. She needs to spend time with me too."

Aegon shook his head vehemently, his eyes filling with tears. "No! Vaella stays!"

Rhaenyra sighed, knowing that any attempt to separate them would end in another tantrum. She knelt down and gently pried Aegon's hands from Vaella. "I'll bring her back soon, I promise."

As she led Vaella out of the nursery, the sound of Aegon's wails echoed down the hallway. The servants exchanged resigned looks, knowing it was only a matter of time before Vaella would be brought back to soothe the young prince.

In the gardens, Rhaenyra and Vaella walked hand in hand. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the path. Rhaenyra looked down at her sister, her heart aching with a mix of love and frustration.

"Why do you let him cling to you so much, Vaella?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone softer now that they were alone. "Don't you want to have time just for us?"

Vaella looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. "Aegon needs me," she said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "He cries when I'm not there."

Rhaenyra's heart softened at her sister's words. She knelt down to Vaella's level, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I know he does, but I need you too, Vaella. You're my sister, and I love you."

Vaella smiled and wrapped her arms around Rhaenyra's neck. "I love you too, Nyra. Always."

As they embraced, Rhaenyra felt a renewed sense of determination. She would find a way to balance her love for Vaella with the demands of their unusual family dynamic. No matter the challenges, she would protect and cherish her sister, just as she had promised on that fateful day by the pyre.

Back in the royal chambers, Alicent lay awake, her thoughts troubled. She placed a hand on her growing belly and sighed. The future seemed more uncertain than ever, but she vowed to do whatever it took to ensure the safety and well-being of her children. As she drifted off to sleep, her mind remained filled with the complexities of their intertwined destinies, each step a delicate dance in the ever-shifting sands of power and family.

...

Vaella was six years old, and her fascination with dragons had only grown with time. Despite her lack of interest in dragon eggs, her eyes would light up whenever she saw Syrax, Rhaenyra’s majestic golden dragon. One crisp morning, Rhaenyra decided it was time for her sister to experience the thrill of flying.

Rhaenyra led Vaella to the Dragonpit, where Syrax awaited. The dragon’s eyes gleamed with intelligence as Rhaenyra approached, her scales shimmering in the early morning light. Vaella’s excitement was palpable, her small hand gripping Rhaenyra’s tightly.

“Are you ready, Vaella?” Rhaenyra asked, a smile playing on her lips.

Vaella nodded eagerly. “Yes, Rhaenyra. I want to fly!”

As Rhaenyra helped Vaella climb onto Syrax’s back, the young girl’s laughter filled the air, a sound of pure joy and exhilaration. With a final check to ensure Vaella was secure, Rhaenyra mounted behind her and gave Syrax the signal to take flight.

The dragon’s powerful wings beat against the air, lifting them off the ground. Vaella’s eyes widened in wonder as the Red Keep grew smaller below them, the world unfolding in a breathtaking panorama. The wind whipped through their hair, and Vaella’s laughter echoed in the skies.

Meanwhile, back in the nursery, Aegon was throwing a fit. He had watched in dismay as Rhaenyra took Vaella away, his cries growing louder with each passing moment. Alicent, now heavily pregnant with her third child, tried to soothe him, but Aegon was inconsolable.

“Where is Vaella?” Aegon wailed, tears streaming down his face. “I want Vaella!”

Alicent knelt beside her son, her patience wearing thin. “Aegon, you need to learn to be apart from Vaella. She has other things to do, and you need to be strong without her.”

Aegon shook his head vehemently, his face red with anger and frustration. “No! You can’t take Vaella away from me! Rhaenyra can’t take her away either!”

In his tantrum, Aegon grabbed one of his toys—a wooden dragon—and threw it across the room, where it shattered against the wall. His screams grew louder, and Alicent’s attempts to calm him seemed only to fuel his rage.

“Aegon, please,” Alicent said, her voice strained. “This behavior is unacceptable. You must learn to control yourself.”

But Aegon was beyond reason, his cries echoing through the halls of the Red Keep. Alicent stood, her hands clenched at her sides, her irritation mounting. She had tried to reason with Viserys about their son’s dependence on Vaella, but he had merely shrugged it off, much to her annoyance.

As Aegon continued to scream for Rhaenyra to bring Vaella back, Alicent felt a surge of frustration. She stormed out of the nursery, determined to find Viserys and make him understand the gravity of the situation.

She found him in the council chamber, discussing matters of state with her father, Otto Hightower, and other advisors. Ignoring the decorum, Alicent marched up to him, her eyes blazing with anger.

“Viserys, we need to talk,” she said, her voice low but fierce.

Viserys looked up, surprised by her sudden appearance. “Alicent, what is it?”

“It’s Aegon,” she said, struggling to keep her composure. “He’s in the nursery throwing a tantrum because Vaella is not there. He’s become too dependent on her, and it’s not healthy. You need to take this seriously.”

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alicent, they’re just children. Siblings often form close bonds.”

“This is more than that, and you know it,” Alicent snapped. “He can’t be apart from her for even a moment without falling apart. This dependency will only grow if we don’t address it now.”

Viserys looked at her, seeing the worry and frustration etched on her face. He nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll speak with Aegon. But give them time, Alicent. They’re still so young.”

Alicent sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering frustration. “Thank you, Viserys. I just want what’s best for them.”

Meanwhile, high above the Red Keep, Rhaenyra and Vaella soared through the skies on Syrax. The city of King’s Landing spread out below them like a tapestry, and Vaella’s eyes sparkled with wonder.

“This is amazing, Rhaenyra!” Vaella shouted over the wind, her laughter infectious.

Rhaenyra smiled, her heart swelling with pride and love for her sister. “I knew you’d love it, Vaella. There’s nothing quite like flying.”

As they flew, Rhaenyra felt a sense of peace. Despite the challenges and frustrations that awaited them on the ground, up here, they were free. She vowed to cherish these moments with Vaella, to protect and nurture her sister as best she could. For now, they had the sky, and that was enough.

...

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the Red Keep, Rhaenyra and Vaella returned from their exhilarating flight on Syrax. The dragon landed gracefully in the courtyard, and Rhaenyra helped Vaella down, her heart still racing from the thrill of their adventure. The moment their feet touched the ground, Aegon came running toward them, his face streaked with tears and his cries echoing off the stone walls.

"Vaella!" Aegon wailed, rushing to her and wrapping his small arms tightly around her. "You’re back!"

Vaella hugged him back, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "I’m here, Aegon. I’m here."

Rhaenyra watched, her annoyance simmering beneath the surface. "Aegon, you can’t just cling to Vaella like that all the time," she said, her tone sharp. "She needs her own space too."

Aegon looked up at Rhaenyra, his eyes filled with defiance and tears. "You can’t take her away from me! She’s mine!"

Rhaenyra’s patience was wearing thin. She knew it was foolish to argue with such a young child, but the possessiveness in Aegon’s voice grated on her. Vaella was the last connection she had to their mother, and the thought of sharing her sister in this way was intolerable.

"Vaella is not yours, Aegon," Rhaenyra snapped, her voice cold. "She is her own person, and you don’t own her."

Aegon’s face crumpled, and he let out another wail, his small body shaking with the force of his tantrum. "No! No! Vaella is mine! You can’t have her!"

The servants in the courtyard exchanged weary glances, clearly exasperated by the scene unfolding before them. Vaella stood in the middle, unsure of what to do, her eyes darting between her sister and her brother.

"Aegon," Vaella said softly, trying to soothe him. "It’s okay. I’m here now."

Alicent, drawn by the noise, arrived in the courtyard, her face set in a mixture of concern and frustration. "What is going on here?" she demanded, her gaze shifting from Rhaenyra to Aegon, who was still clinging to Vaella.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with anger as she looked at Alicent. "Your son doesn’t understand that Vaella isn’t his to command," she said sharply. "He needs to learn some boundaries."

Alicent’s expression hardened. "Rhaenyra, he’s just a child. He doesn’t understand these things yet."

Rhaenyra’s temper flared, and she took a step forward. "And he never will if you keep coddling him like this! Vaella is not his to cling to every time he wants. She’s my sister too, and I won’t have her treated like a toy!"

Alicent’s face went pale, and she took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. "This isn’t helping anyone, Rhaenyra. We need to find a way to help Aegon understand without making things worse."

Rhaenyra’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. "Vaella is all I have left of my mother. I won’t let him take her from me."

With that, Rhaenyra turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving the courtyard in tense silence. Alicent watched her go, a sigh escaping her lips. She turned her attention back to Aegon, who was still clinging to Vaella, his sobs quieter but no less heartbreaking.

"Come here, Aegon," Alicent said softly, kneeling down to his level. "It’s okay. Vaella isn’t going anywhere."

Aegon looked up at her, his face streaked with tears. "But she left me. Rhaenyra took her."

Alicent gently pried his hands from Vaella and pulled him into a hug. "I know, darling. But sometimes Vaella needs to do things with Rhaenyra too. You’ll see her again soon, I promise."

Aegon nodded, sniffling, but his grip on Vaella’s hand remained tight. Vaella, sensing his distress, squeezed his hand back, her expression one of quiet understanding.

Alicent sighed, looking at the two children. "Let’s get you both inside. It’s getting late."

As she led them back into the Red Keep, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of worry. The tensions between Rhaenyra and Aegon were growing, and she knew that unless something changed, these small conflicts could become much larger as they all grew older. For now, she focused on comforting her son and ensuring that Vaella felt secure, hoping that they would find a way to navigate these troubled waters together.

...

Fifteen-year-old Vaella Targaryen sat quietly beside her father, King Viserys I, in his chambers. The room was filled with the intricate model of Old Valyria that Viserys had been painstakingly working on for years. The delicate spires and towers of the ancient city gleamed under the soft light of the candles, casting intricate shadows on the walls. Vaella's small hands delicately placed a tiny bridge between two towers, her face scrunched up in concentration.

Viserys, now looking much older than his years, his health visibly deteriorating, watched his daughter with a fond smile. Despite his efforts to hide it, Vaella knew he was unwell. The signs were clear in the way he moved, slower and more deliberate, and the occasional wince of pain that crossed his features.

"You're doing wonderfully, Vaella," Viserys said, his voice soft but filled with pride. "You have a steady hand."

Vaella smiled up at him, her indigo eyes bright. "Thank you, Father. I love working on this with you."

Viserys nodded, his gaze drifting to the model before him. "It's a piece of our history. A connection to our roots." He paused, then turned to her. "How was your time with your nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys?"

Vaella's face lit up. "It was interesting. Maester Mellos was teaching us about Targaryen history, the stories of our ancestors. Then Laenor told us about the great sailors who ventured all the way to the Summer Isles. I love hearing about their adventures."

Viserys chuckled, a raspy sound that ended in a slight cough. "I'm glad you're learning and enjoying your time with them. It's important to understand where we come from." He hesitated for a moment before asking, "And how is Aegon handling the changes?"

Vaella's smile faded slightly, and she frowned, her brow furrowing. "Not very well, Father. He doesn't like it when I'm away. He gets upset and still sometimes throws tantrums."

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. "Aegon has always struggled with separation. He has a strong bond with you."

Vaella nodded, looking thoughtful. "I know he loves me, and I love him too. But sometimes it's hard. He doesn't understand that I need to spend time with others too."

Viserys placed a gentle hand on Vaella's shoulder. "It's not easy being the center of someone's world. Aegon needs to learn that you have your own life, your own interests."

Vaella looked up at him, her eyes filled with determination. "I'll help him understand, Father. I'll be patient with him."

Viserys smiled, his eyes softening. "You're wise beyond your years, Vaella. Your kindness and patience will serve you well." He paused, his expression turning more serious. "And how are you, my dear? How are you handling all these changes?"

Vaella shrugged slightly. "It's a lot, but I have you and Rhaenyra. And I love spending time with my nephews. They make me laugh and I enjoy learning with them."

Viserys nodded, feeling a pang of pride and sorrow for his young daughter. "You're a strong girl, Vaella. Stronger than you know. Always remember that."

Vaella hugged her father tightly, feeling the frailty in his embrace but also the warmth of his love. "I will, Father. I'll always remember."

...

In a quieter corner of the Red Keep, Aegon paced back and forth, his young face twisted in frustration. His younger brother, Aemond, sat nearby, trying to focus on a book but finding it impossible with Aegon's incessant complaining.

"They took her again, Aemond! They took Vaella to spend more time with Rhaenyra and her bastards," Aegon fumed, kicking at a loose stone on the floor. "They think those boys are more worthy than me!"

Aemond looked up from his book, his blue eyes sharp. "You shouldn't talk like that, Aegon. It's dangerous."

Aegon scoffed, his face a mask of indignation. "Why shouldn't I? Mother calls them bastards all the time. Everyone knows it's true."

Aemond closed his book with a sigh, setting it aside. "Just because Mother says it doesn't mean you should repeat it. It's disrespectful, and it will get you into trouble."

Aegon glared at his brother, his anger unabated. "You’re just jealous because Vaella likes me more than you."

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued despite his annoyance. "Why is Vaella so special to you, Aegon? Why do you always want her around?"

Aegon’s expression hardened. "You're stupid for even asking that, Aemond. She just is. Nobody loves me like Vaella does. She understands me."

Aemond rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall. "That's stupid. She's just a girl. She can’t make everything better."

Aegon stepped closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "Shut up, Aemond. You don't understand anything."

Aemond shrugged, his expression indifferent. "Maybe I don't. But I heard Maester Mellos talking to Mother once. He said Vaella ate her twin. Maybe that’s why you think she’s so special. She’s got something extra from her dead brother."

Aegon’s face contorted with a mixture of horror and fascination. "What are you talking about?"

Aemond smirked, enjoying the shift in power. "It’s true. Mellos said Vaella didn't cry when she was born, not until her brother died. Maybe she took something from him. Maybe that’s why you feel so close to her."

Aegon stood silent for a moment, absorbing his brother’s words. Then, a twisted smile spread across his face. "Good. If her dead brother gave her something extra, then it's better for me. He would have taken her from me too."

Aemond frowned, not expecting that reaction. "You’re strange, Aegon. You know that?"

Aegon shrugged, a hint of madness in his eyes. "Maybe. But Vaella is mine. And no one will take her from me. Not Rhaenyra, not anyone."

Aemond sighed, shaking his head. "You’re going to get us all in trouble one day, Aegon. Mark my words."

Aegon ignored his brother, his mind already returning to thoughts of Vaella and the frustration of being separated from her. He would find a way to keep her close, no matter what it took.

…

The morning sun cast long shadows over the Dragonpit as Jacaerys, Lucerys, Aegon, Aemond, and Vaella made their way to the massive structure. The air was filled with the heady scent of dragon musk and the sound of wings flapping. Inside the pit, three dragons awaited their riders, their scales shimmering in the sunlight. Vaella stood quietly by Aemond's side, the two of them the only ones without dragons to bond with. While Aemond's frustration was evident, Vaella seemed content, her serene demeanor a stark contrast to her younger brother's visible agitation.

As the dragons were led out one by one, Vaella watched with a mix of awe and quiet longing. When Sunfyre appeared, his golden scales glinting brilliantly, Aegon eagerly grabbed Vaella's hand and pulled her along. "Come on, Vaella, let's attend to Sunfyre together."

Vaella allowed herself to be led, her eyes widening as they approached the magnificent dragon. She gently stroked Sunfyre's scales, feeling the warmth emanating from his body. Aegon stood beside her, his pride evident as he showed off his bond with the dragon. Vaella smiled softly, her affection for her brother momentarily overshadowing her usual frustrations with him.

Later, once the dragons were fed and content, Aegon let go of Vaella's hand and turned his attention to Aemond. There was a mischievous glint in his eye that Vaella did not like. Aegon, Jacaerys, and Lucerys huddled together, whispering and giggling before calling Aemond over.

"Come here, Aemond!" Aegon shouted, his voice filled with feigned excitement. "We found a dragon for you!"

Aemond's eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and suspicion. He approached cautiously, glancing back at Vaella for reassurance. She gave him a small, supportive smile, but her unease grew.

As Aemond drew closer, the boys stepped aside to reveal a pig adorned with makeshift dragon wings and a painted snout. "Behold, the Pink Dread!" Aegon announced with mock grandeur, barely able to contain his laughter.

Jacaerys and Lucerys burst into laughter, pointing at the pig and doubling over with mirth. Aemond's face turned bright red with humiliation, his eyes welling up with tears. Vaella's expression darkened, her initial amusement giving way to anger.

"Aegon, Jace, Luke, that's enough!" Vaella's voice was sharp, cutting through the laughter. "How dare you humiliate Aemond like this?"

Aegon's laughter faltered as he met Vaella's furious gaze. "It was just a joke, Vaella. We didn't mean—"

"Do I deserve the same?" Vaella interrupted, her voice cold. "I don't have a dragon either. Is this how you plan to treat me too?"

Aegon stumbled over his words, his face turning pale. "No, Vaella, I didn't mean—"

But Vaella had already turned on her heel, her expression stormy as she walked away from the Dragonpit. Aegon rushed after her, desperation in his voice. "Vaella, wait! Please, don't be mad at me. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

Vaella stopped and spun around to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. "You always do this, Aegon. You act without thinking and hurt the people who care about you. Aemond looks up to you, and this is how you treat him?"

Aegon reached out, but Vaella stepped back, shaking her head. "I thought you were better than this."

"Vaella, I'm sorry," Aegon pleaded, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to hurt you or Aemond. Please, forgive me."

Vaella took a deep breath, her anger still simmering but her voice softening slightly. "Apologize to Aemond. Make it right with him. And think before you act next time."

Aegon nodded, his eyes filled with regret. "I will. I promise."

As Vaella turned and walked away, Aegon stood there, watching her go with a heavy heart. He knew he had to make amends, not just with Aemond but also with Vaella. The bonds of family were fragile, and he had to learn to cherish and protect them.

Inside the Dragonpit, Aemond stood alone, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Vaella approached him, her expression softening. "I'm sorry they treated you like that, Aemond. You deserve better."

Aemond looked up, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Vaella. You're the only one who seems to understand."

Vaella hugged her brother tightly. "We'll find our own dragons one day, Aemond. Until then, we have each other."

As they walked away together, the bond between them strengthened, a promise of loyalty and support in a world filled with uncertainty and strife.

…

That evening, Vaella sat in her chambers, the events of the day weighing heavily on her mind. The candles flickered softly, casting gentle shadows on the walls, as she tried to find some semblance of peace. Her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on the door.

“Vaella, it’s me,” Aegon’s voice came through the door, hesitant yet determined.

Vaella sighed, already knowing why he was here. “Come in, Aegon.”

Aegon entered, closing the door behind him. He looked uncertain, his usual bravado tempered by a mix of guilt and frustration. “I wanted to apologize again. The idea was Jace and Luke’s, not mine.”

Vaella made a grimace, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Then why does it reek of you, Aegon?”

Aegon’s irritation flared, and he stepped closer, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why do you care so much about annoying Aemond? He’s just—”

“He’s my brother too, Aegon,” Vaella interrupted sharply, her eyes blazing. “Just like you are.”

Aegon pressed on, his voice lower but intense. “But you love me more, don’t you?”

Vaella frowned, seeing the familiar possessiveness in Aegon’s eyes. It had not diminished with time, if anything, it had grown. “Aegon, I will always love you. But I also love Jace, Luke, Aemond, and even little Joffrey. We’re all family.”

Aegon stepped even closer, their faces now mere inches apart. “But you love me more, right?” he asked, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper.

Vaella’s heart pounded in her chest, her emotions a whirlwind of love, frustration, and understanding. She met his gaze steadily, her voice soft but firm. “Yes, Aegon. I love you more.”

Aegon’s tense expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead, a gesture that held both affection and possessiveness. He then began to shed his attire, his movements slow and deliberate. Vaella watched him, her own feelings a mix of resignation and affection.

“Aegon,” she warned gently, “if your mother finds out we’re sharing a bed again, she’ll yell at both of us.”

Aegon shrugged, climbing into her bed with a dismissive smile. “Let her yell. I don’t care. Come here.”

Vaella’s resolve wavered, and eventually, she couldn’t help but smile. She slipped into the bed beside him, the ritual familiar and comforting. They had been sharing a bed since they were babes, a habit that had persisted despite Alicent’s disapproval.

As they lay together, Aegon wrapped his arms around Vaella, holding her close. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The warmth of his embrace was soothing, a reminder of their unbreakable bond despite the chaos around them.

They didn’t fall asleep right away. Instead, they lay in the quiet, drawing comfort from each other’s presence. Vaella felt Aegon’s breath against her hair, his hold on her gentle yet possessive. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax for the first time that day.

“Vaella,” Aegon murmured, his voice soft in the darkness. “I promise I’ll never let anyone come between us. Not Rhaenyra, not anyone.”

Vaella sighed, her heart aching with a mixture of love and sadness. “I know, Aegon. And I’ll always be here for you.”

They held onto each other, finding solace in their shared closeness. The world outside might be fraught with tension and uncertainty, but in this moment, they were simply a brother and sister, bound by love and loyalty.

…

Alicent Hightower strode through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, her frustration mounting with each step. She had been looking for her eldest son, Aegon, to confront him about the cruel prank he and Rhaenyra’s sons had played on Aemond. Finding his chambers empty had only intensified her annoyance, as she knew exactly where he would be—once again with his half-sister, Vaella.

Alicent had tried her best to separate the two as they grew older, understanding the potential complications their bond could bring. But no matter her efforts, Aegon always found his way back to Vaella, their connection unbroken. She couldn't help but recall Maester Mellos’ words about Vaella being strange since birth, and the implications of that observation gnawed at her.

Meanwhile, in Vaella's chambers, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to Alicent's rising tension. Vaella and Aegon lay in her bed, still entwined in their embrace. Aegon’s lips trailed down her cheek to her neck, eliciting a soft hitch in her breath. She clutched at him gently, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

“Aegon,” she whispered, her voice breathy with both pleasure and concern, “promise me again you won’t mock Aemond like that again.”

Aegon’s kisses paused for a moment as he sighed. “I promise,” he murmured before resuming his tender exploration. His hands roamed over her curves, their touch growing more familiar and intimate with time. His movements against her nightgown became more urgent, her quiet moans filling the room.

Just as Aegon’s urgency peaked and he found release, spilling his seed onto Vaella’s thigh, the door to her chambers swung open. Both Aegon and Vaella sat up abruptly, alarmed and disheveled.

Alicent’s worried frown deepened as she took in the sight before her. She quickly closed the door behind her, her gaze intense. “Did you do it?” she demanded, her voice strained with a mix of anger and fear.

Vaella blushed deeply, realizing the insinuation behind Alicent's question. “No, Mother. We didn’t… we never go that far,” she stammered, her words tumbling over each other.

Alicent sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly with relief, though her irritation remained. She turned her focus to Aegon. “And what about the pig, Aegon? The Pink Dread?”

Aegon deflected, his tone dismissive. “It was Jace and Luke’s idea.”

Alicent scolded him, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t lie to me, Aegon. You were just as much a part of it.”

Aegon rolled his eyes and lay back on the bed, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation. “Fine, whatever,” he muttered.

Vaella interjected, her voice calm but firm. “I made him promise not to mock Aemond again, Mother.”

Alicent’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at Vaella. Despite the tension, she recognized the sincerity in her stepdaughter’s words. “Good. That’s good,” she said quietly. Before leaving, she turned back to them, her expression resolute. “This is the last time you two will share a bed.”

Vaella nodded, understanding the gravity of Alicent’s words but knowing deep down it was a promise neither she nor Aegon intended to keep. “Yes, Mother,” she replied.

Alicent gave them one last look, a mixture of concern and resignation in her eyes, before she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

As the door clicked shut, Aegon sat up again, his demeanor shifting from defiance to a more contemplative mood. “She won’t keep us apart, you know,” he said softly, reaching out to take Vaella’s hand.

Vaella squeezed his hand gently, a small smile playing on her lips. “I know, Aegon. But we should be careful.”

He nodded, pulling her closer. “Always,” he promised.

They lay back down together, the quiet of the room wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. In the stillness of the night, they found solace in each other's presence, knowing that no matter what, they would face the world together.

…

The meeting of the small council was underway in the grand chamber of the Red Keep. The air was thick with the scent of burning candles and the tension of unresolved conflicts. Rhaenyra, dressed in her regal black and red attire, sat at the head of the table, her face composed but her eyes betraying the urgency of her thoughts. King Viserys, though visibly weakened by his illness, was present, his presence lending an air of gravitas to the proceedings. Alicent Hightower, her face a mask of controlled composure, sat beside him, her eyes watchful and calculating.

As the discussions turned to matters of succession and alliances, Rhaenyra seized the moment to present her proposal. "To ease the tensions between our families," she began, her voice steady and clear, "I propose that my son, Jacaerys, be betrothed to Helaena. This union would strengthen our family bonds."

A murmur ran through the room, and all eyes turned to Alicent, who clenched her hands in her lap to keep her composure. "And to further show goodwill," Rhaenyra continued, "when Syrax lays her next clutch of eggs, Aemond may choose an egg for himself."

Alicent's face tightened, her distress at the idea of her daughter marrying a boy widely rumored to be a bastard threatening to show. She forced herself to remain calm, her voice measured as she replied. "While your proposal is... thoughtful, Princess, I counter with a suggestion of my own. Let Aegon and Vaella be engaged to each other instead."

Rhaenyra's eyes flashed with anger, but she controlled her temper. "That is out of the question," she said firmly. "Vaella deserves more than a life tied to Aegon."

Viserys, who had been silent, finally spoke up, his voice weak but resolute. "I agree with Rhaenyra. Aegon is my son, but he is not suitable for Vaella."

Alicent's composure slipped for a moment, her eyes blazing with frustration. "You did nothing to sever the link between them, Viserys. And now you dispute this match? How can Rhaenyra's son be good enough for Helaena, but our son is not good enough for Vaella?"

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. "Aegon is impulsive and lacks the qualities necessary to care for someone as precious as Vaella. She deserves a kind and understanding partner."

Alicent stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. "This is not about what Vaella deserves," she snapped, her voice shaking with barely controlled anger. "This is about your favoritism, your willingness to sacrifice my children’s future for the sake of Rhaenyra's."

Rhaenyra remained seated, her expression unyielding. "Alicent, this is not about favoritism. It's about what is best for Vaella and the realm. Jacaerys and Helaena's union would benefit everyone."

Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, her frustration and anger boiling over. "I will not allow my daughter to be used as a pawn in your game, Rhaenyra. This discussion is over."

With that, Alicent turned and stormed out of the chamber, her mind churning with resentment. How could Rhaenyra's bastard be deemed good enough for Helaena, yet Vaella be too good for her son? The injustice of it all gnawed at her, fueling her determination to find a way to secure her children's future.

Back in the council chamber, an uneasy silence settled over the room. Viserys looked tired, his earlier resolve waning. "Let us continue," he said quietly. "There are other matters to discuss."

Rhaenyra nodded, her mind already moving to the next topic, but the tension from the earlier confrontation lingered. She knew that Alicent's anger was far from quelled and that the coming days would bring new challenges. But for now, she focused on the task at hand, determined to protect her family and secure a future where they could all find peace.

…

Vaella Targaryen noticed the change in the atmosphere of the Red Keep after the birth of her sister Rhaenyra's third son, Joffrey. The castle felt like a simmering pot, ready to boil over. The departure of Harwin Strong and his father, Lyonel, back to Harrenhal only added to the tension. Whispers and sideways glances became more frequent, and the sense of unease permeated the halls.

One afternoon, as Vaella was wandering the corridors, she overheard some of the servants talking in hushed tones. "Did you hear? Princess Rhaenyra is taking her family to Dragonstone."

Vaella's heart skipped a beat. The idea of her sister leaving was unthinkable. She hurried through the winding passages, her mind racing with worry and confusion, until she found Rhaenyra in her chambers, packing her belongings.

"Rhaenyra!" Vaella cried, bursting into the room. "Is it true? Are you leaving for Dragonstone?"

Rhaenyra turned to her, her face calm but her eyes betraying the storm of emotions within. "Yes, Vaella. We are leaving."

Vaella felt a lump in her throat. "But why? Father will be devastated. And I can't bear the thought of losing you. Please, you can't leave me here."

Rhaenyra walked over to her sister and placed her hands on Vaella's shoulders. "You know why I must leave," she said gently. "The situation here is becoming untenable. For the safety of my children and myself, we need to be away from the court and its intrigues."

Vaella's eyes filled with tears. She knew the truth about the parentage of Rhaenyra's children, but it mattered little to her. They were her nephews, and she loved them dearly. "But people will talk no matter what you do," she said, her voice trembling. "Why can't I come with you?"

Rhaenyra sighed, her heart aching at the sight of her sister's distress. She pulled Vaella into a tight embrace. "You are so brave, Vaella," she whispered. "But I need you to stay here and look after our father. His health is failing, and he needs someone he can trust by his side."

Vaella clung to Rhaenyra, her tears soaking into her sister's dress. "I don't want to lose you," she said, her voice muffled.

Rhaenyra pulled back slightly, looking into Vaella's indigo eyes. "You won't lose me. We'll write to each other, and I'll visit whenever I can. But you must promise me that you'll be strong and take care of Father. He needs you more than ever now."

Vaella nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of the responsibility. "I promise," she whispered.

Rhaenyra kissed her sister's forehead, a bittersweet smile on her lips. "You are my heart, Vaella. And I know you will do great things. Stay strong, for both of us."

As Rhaenyra continued to pack, Vaella stood by, feeling a mix of sorrow and determination. The castle felt more oppressive than ever, but she knew that her sister was right. She had to be strong for their father, to be the anchor he needed in these troubled times.

The day Rhaenyra and her family left for Dragonstone, Vaella stood beside her father, watching the dragons take flight. The sky was filled with the beating of powerful wings, and Vaella felt a tear slip down her cheek. She glanced at Viserys, who looked frail and weary, a shadow of the king he once was. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently.

"Don't worry, Father," she said softly. "I'll be here for you. Always."

Viserys looked down at his youngest daughter, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sadness. "Thank you, Vaella," he whispered, his voice trembling. "You are my strength."

As the dragons disappeared into the horizon, Vaella felt a sense of resolve settle over her. She would honor her sister's trust and protect their father, no matter the cost.

[theyungihven]

Truth Or Dare ⁉️ ⁕ Hongjoong

HALLOWEEN EVENT

☆ pairing: hongjoong as Dracula x Human? Reader

☆ genre: mystery, fantasy, horror,

☆ warnings: mentions of blood, sacrifice, vampires and ghosts

☆ word count: 2.1k+

☆ synopsis : You and your friends dare to spend a night at the infamous Dracula's Castle but things go astray as one by one everyone goes missing and you come across the man rumoured to be Dracula.

“You gotta do this!” You hear your friends yell or more like discuss something in the secret hideout. 

The hideout is an abandoned laboratory where you sometimes work on illegal stuff. The discussions take place every day here where everyone in your friend group (it's just 2 people) gather to share about the current news (conspiracy theories) and rumours they heard around the town while you are busy building your prototype.

“Bro, I don't wanna die too early. First, fucking global warming, now this shit? Nah I'm out!” Claire shouts as she bangs the old lunch table discarded in the room. Well that's Claire, one of you two friends, being herself. You smile at her humour which strangely manages to entertain you.

“But they offered a reward of 250 grand, if we spend a night there and return alive.” You listen keenly to Kevin who explains the plan before you to decide to jump into their conversation. He's obviously got a strategy if he's pitching the idea, doesn't he? He has to!

“Alive? The fuck is going on there?” Claire yells  in terror as it laces her body manifesting itself in her tone which shivers and shrieks.

“Rumour says, it's Dracula, who was sleeping till last month in the villa.” Kevin whispers loudly as if he intended you to hear on their spill the tea session.

“Which shithead woke him up, for fuckssake?” Claire huffs and pushes back her chair. You hear the screeching of the rusty metal and make a note to check their safety because you don't want anyone to break their bones from falling off that thing.

“Someone from med school. They're missing apparently.” Kevin slurs his sentence as if he's making things up or masking up the important details. Cheeky little Bastard who's always up to something. Probably some anatomy geek must have gotten all curious to see Dracula in the flesh and fainted in there or lost his way.

“And now, we're going there to feed him?" Claire shrieks, whose voice sounds like a scared five year old upon seeing a clown which she is to be honest.

“No, obviously! To show whoever is hiding in there, that they cannot hide for long.” Kevin's sentence catches your attention and you think whether to join them or wait and hear more. Of course, you choose the latter.

“So... we're going to expose them?”Claire asks excitedly as if in hopes of going on a ghost hunting mission. They are her time passing activities and the ghost files is her favourite show. “What if it's a cannibal or serial killer?”

“Can you speak positively for once, Claire?” Kevin shrugs, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Sorry.” Claire says softly and the conversation stills, creating an awkward silence in the room. 

You finally decide to interrupt as you pull your chair to their table and make yourself comfortable on it. “So, what's the plan?” You say, chewing the strawberry flavoured gum and reading the expressions on their faces.

“See who finally decided to pay attention?” Kevin mocks you and you roll your eyes at his statement. 

“Does the area have connectivity? Comms? Anything?” You ask him, because he certainly has some information on this if he's even mentioning the topic but he has a tendency to hide things till after the disaster is done.

“Nope everything's dead. There's a strong magnetic field apparently…” He trails on his words, again and clicks his tongue.

“What in the Stranger Things?” Claire wonders with her mouth hanging open. 

“Shut up Claire! You’re watching too much science fiction.” Kevin yells at her, sending a stern glare at Claire who turns her head down with a frown on her lips.

“We gotta do it the pirate way.” you suggest calmly, leaning back on the chair and folding your arms.

“Pirates?” Claire asks, raising her eyebrow and leaning forward with enthusiasm.

“I forgot you had pirate blood for a minute.” adds Kevin and Claire acknowledges the fact with ahh. 

“So, if we don't have comms, drones and walkies aren't gonna work. We gotta get flares and some type of marker to make a path for entry and exits.” You say looking at the table and your friends exchange looks.

“A blueprint of the place!” Claire exclaims as if she has figured out the answers to one of the world's unsolvable riddles.

“It's not your fucking aunts house!” Kevin says loudly, giving Claire the ‘I'll murder you’ eyes.

“Yeah he's right. But the villa is not that big to get lost.” You mumble, moving forward and setting your arms on the table. 

“How do you know that?” Kevin gives you the sceptical look as if you're a notorious criminal with disgusting crimes.

“It was once our family property, that was a long time tho. Some feud happened and we lost it.” You confess and their faces have the funniest expression you've ever seen. Confused, surprised and wtf?

“You have a map?” Kevin yells in your ear and you retort meters away, squeezing your eyes close  due to the pain.

“Kinda, it's a tracing, rather than a map.” you say, rubbing your ear and a flicker of hope lights up on Kevin's face. 

“Atleast, we have something.” Claire mumbles as she shares a smile.

“Be at my house at 7, we'll discuss stuff there. That's it for now.”

***

“Listen, the Manor has two exits.” You explain, spreading out the old one dimensional tracing of the Manor and its illustrations.

“Didn't you say it was a villa?” Claire says, setting her hands on her waist as she stares at the floor plan.

“Can we kick her out?” Kevin suggests and the idea doesn't sound bad considering her level headed ass. 

“It's dangerously close to Yes, but what if I get bored? We'll need her.” You trail, spreading out the second floor plan of the Manor.

“Fair. So, Claire, just shut your mouth and listen. No speaking over someone.” Kevin says and shushes Claire who pouts, giving him the puppy eyes.

“Okay so the first exit is at the front, obviously for the people and the second is at the back for the goods.” You say with your finger tracing the main gate of the Manor and then the back gate. 

“Ohhhhhh!” Claire coos, and Kevin giggles at her reaction while he gets ready to smack her on head.

“Yeah. Shut your mouth before a fly lands in there. Anyways, moving on!” You say, thinking about your next sentence and Claire slaps her hand to her mouth. 

“Are we dividing up and going from two exits?” Kevin asks, and you look up at him, eyes diverting themselves from the map and landing on his face.

“Yes, you read my mind. You two will go from the front door to distract whatever is in there and I'll go with someone else from the back.”

“Is this someone else, late to the meeting?”

“Hey there!” A voice says and it is followed by the garage door smashing open with a thud, “Sorry I had soccer practice.” Yunho, your arch nemesis on friendly terms, says and shares an awkward smile.

“This is my neighbour, yunho.” You introduce him and drag him by his arm to make his tall ass body stand next to yours.

“Hello, very nice to meet you.” He waves at your friends with a bright smile and Claire gives him heart eyes at which you cringe. 

“You both are polar opposites!” Kevin comments and you feel heating rising on your cheeks.

“We get that a lot!” You and Yunho say at the same time only to meet each other's eyes the next second and shy away. 

“What did I miss?” Yunho says after clearing his throat as he glances in your direction. His golden blond hair falls over eyes and you observe the way his gaze flickers from your face and back to map.

“Whatever I said to you, last night.” You say, finding something to stare at besides his brooding figure.

“Okay then, I'm saved I guess!” Yunho says as he nervously chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The next phase of the plan is when I signal you, we move to the first floor. The highest is the second floor which has a library in the attic.” You say and it excites something in Yunho judging by the creepy smirk on his lips.

“Attics scare me!” Claire says, her voice shrieking with fear of the darkness.

“What doesn't scare you Claire?” Kevin says in a monotone as he turns his head in her direction.

“Him!” Claire points in Yunho's direction at which you can't help but sigh.

“Flirt somewhere else, lovebirds. We got shit to do.” You roll your eyes then go back to thinking about what to say next.

“How are you going to communicate?” Yunho asks, giving you his starry puppy eyes and you can't help but gulp nervously. What is he even trying to do?

“Well, I have a perfect device for that.” You say, distracting yourself from the tall and beautiful blonde beside you with a bright ass smile.

“Where?” Claire asks as if she's looking for something and fails to find it.

“Our friendship bracelets. They work with a higher bandwidth of 7GHz.” You say, pointing at the bracelet on Claire's wrist.

“7g WiFi?” Claire exclaims and you hear an audible sigh from Kevin, at which Yunho giggles and earns a glare.

“Yeah kinda like that.....i guess.” you mumble under your breath.

“Yunho doesn't have one, though?” Someone asks while your mind pulls you in a trance and you start to zone out.

“He does.” You say, almost mumbles as you start to slip into the fever dream.

“He DOES?”  They yell. 

AT THE MANOR

“You know what to do. On the signal, disperse. It's two taps, distinct and repeating 3 times. If anything goes down, the distress signal is continuous tapping. Light the flare ONLY if its a fucking emergency, and if we need to abort the mission.” You yell as low as possible while they listen to you attentively. 

“Yes sir!” Everyone shouts, tightening the strap of their backpack of supplies.

“Remember to mark your way up to the second floor. People get lost there.” You say and everyone exchanges confused looks. “It's a spell.” You remind them and they nod their heads. “Now, go. Meet you at the library!”

According to the plan, you and Yunho go through the back gate while Claire and Kevin from the front gate. The sound of the rusted iron screeching when Kevin pushes the gate echoes around the Manor and you curse under your breath. 

The way up to the first floor had been easy, then after the signal from the other team gave clearance, you decided to head to the second floor alone bidding Yunho a goodbye. It had been strange for a while, walking down the eerie, empty hallway with the feeling of something watching you the whole time. 

You stand in the middle of the never ending hallway, a ghostly whisper greets your ear and sends shivers down your spine. 

What in the fucking hell?? 

There's a ghostly touch on your arm, ice cold as it traces its finger down your warm skin. When you turn to face the monster, there's no one behind you. Then you feel it, a looming shadow over your shoulder but when you turn again, it's gone. 

So, you walk on because standing still is more dangerous. You choose to run when you see a pale face in the middle of the corridor grinning wildly at you which sends terror down your body. Your heart beats at an amazing speed as your breath shortens, adrenaline running through your body which initiates the flight mechanism because there is no way you're dealing with that demonic thing in this haunted mansion. 

“I've been searching for you for so long.” A voice echoes in the hallway or is it your brain playing tricks on you. Luckily you find the stairway leading to the second floor and run towards it but things take a turn when you realise, it is a trap. 

“I thought you were a smart girl.” The sinister voice echoes in your mind again as you walk away from the door that shut itself only to bump into something hard. Turning around you come to see the very pale face you had seen in the hallway but very clearly now. 

The man stands in front of you in his full glory, the navy uniform and wounds from the battle still decorating his lifeless body. “You traitor!” You feel a sharp pain in your chest and you look down to see a dagger pressed to your heart. “You'll repay the blood we shed that night, you vampire.” Everything goes black when he twists the knife and the last thing you see is a scared yunho trying to save you.

[three--rings]

So this whole Trump Racist Conspiracy on Immigrants Eating Pets thing...

It's the oldest smelliest Racist Uncle At Thanksgiving Shit. It doesn't matter the race or the location or the time period, people are accusing them of eating cats and dogs.

So, a personal story.

About 18 years ago I was working as a social worker and one day I was sent to a different county to help out in a public mental health clinic in a rural town that I normally didn't go to.

And lunchtime came around and the local workers were like, let's go each lunch. And there were not a lot of places to eat in this town. Like a McDonald's, a subway, and idk a few local places. They said we can go to the chinese buffet and me and my coworker were like cool let's go. And the psychiatrist there that day said he would go to lunch with us and treat us. Excellent!

So we go to this little chinese place and it's not, like, great. It's mediocre chinese all-you-can-eat buffet in a town with a dearth of asian people, yunno? But it's fine. It's edible. And we're all sitting there eating and we notice, hey, the psychiatrist doesn't have any food.

"Not eating lunch?" someone asks him.

"I don't eat Chinese food," he says.

"Oh?" Puzzled looks all around, like...this is a pretty weird statement, considering regardless of dietary concerns it's pretty easy to find something to eat, you know.

"No. You never know what that meat is," he says with confidence, with the air of someone older and wiser letting the young folks in on a secret. This man is probably late 60s, retired from normal practice. White, obviously, with a strong Texas accent (that pegs him as rural).

Silence and looks around the table. Nervous laughter. "Uh, what do you mean?"

"I mean I bet there no stray cats on the streets around here."

Longer silence as what this man is saying sinks in. Finally, my coworker, a black man who doesn't put up with much, says, "let me get this straight...you think we're eating cat right now?"

The doctor shrugs. "How do you know you're not?"

"You think it's easier for this restaurant to go catch cats and use them in the food than buying something at a store?"

More shrugging. Then he doubles down. "Hey I used to work in The Valley [the Rio Grande Valley, along the border with Mexico, an area with high poverty and like 90% hispanic] and I'll just tell you that there are no stray dogs down there."

Raised eyebrows and the looking down at your plates that happens when Racist Uncle starts going off. My coworker continues to challenge him a little, "No dogs. You looked everywhere..." etc.

You have to understand the power dynamics at play too. A psychiatrist in public mental health is the VERY TOP of the hierarchy. It's so hard to get a psychiatrist to come to the middle of nowhere and practice in shit conditions for shit (relative) pay. You don't usually get the best. So you have to treat them like royalty. What they says goes. They are treated with such deference. So we really were just in this situation of like...what the fuck do you do. Don't Piss Off The Doctor is a big rule. (I was really lucky that the clinic I usually worked at had a good young doctor out of Austin, who was bilingual and like...quirky? Always late? But provided good care.)

I did later find out this doctor had a reputation of the "don't be a female and find yourself alone with him" variety. Some people had been moved offices because they refused to work with him. But like, finding a replacement for him was virtually impossible.

Anyway, so that was the first time I had someone to my face talk about all the immigrants eating cats and dogs. And it wasn't even one of my patients! I heard a lot of shit at that job but never anything as blatantly racist as what that psychiatrist said. (Sexist? homophobic? okay yeah)

[sailor-hufflepuff]

darklina (or any pair you’d like) + “Midnight Sun”

(Sorry, just realized that that’s a book in the Twilight series after typing it out. 😂)

That would actually be a perfect title for a fic I’ve had in mind for a couple of years, but haven’t written because I don’t know if I have the emotional fortitude.

I ended up doing five paragraphs instead of five lines, because I have no self control.

******

The Sun Queen sits where she always sits: at the window seat, gazing out into the world. It doesn’t matter what room she’s in, or who she’s with; her husband, the servants, foreign dignitaries, the Grisha council, in her chambers or the war room or the dining hall. If there is no seat, she stands. The one single exception is the throne room, and only because “sit on the throne beside me” had been one of the conditions of their marriage. Even then, though, she sits in the white marble seat with a straight back, hands in her lap, face blank and eyes staring over the heads of the court, unseeing. Aleksander spent the first few years of their marriage fighting it, then decided to “let her have her temper tantrum”, and allowed her to do what she wished. Two decades later there has been no change, and he is growing frustrated. This is not the marriage he had envisioned when he dreamed of his Sun Summoner.

******

Something was wrong. For weeks Aleksander had been fighting a growing sense of dread, well honed by centuries of life. He had spies sent out, did a security check of the staff, cancelled all possible public events, and hunted for any sign of a conspiracy. And still, it hung at the back of his mind, ice cold and firm. He was in the council room, going over security protocols when it snapped… the very moment the entire palace was rocked to its foundations. People screamed, furniture fell over, vases broke, but he was dead to it all, standing, hand clutched over his heart where the tether - that vital link between he and his wife, spun by antlers, and destiny, and the making itself - was suddenly, horribly, gone.

******

It took four hours for them pry Alina’s body from his arms. She looked so peaceful there, a smile on her face - the first he had seen since the war - and ink staining her fingers from the note she wrote him before downing the poison that had been carefully crafted to kill an immortal. Even after the healers had taken her away to examine and prepare for her funeral, he knelt on the floor, arms empty, staring at nothing. All alone, in his grand palace, where no one knew his name. Alone. Alone. Alone.

********

The funeral is grand. The entire country is ordered to wear mourning bands around their arms, businesses are closed, and no music may be played. The court are arrayed in mourning colors, the women veiled, the men unshaven. There is utter silence as he stares at her body on the pyre; one of his advisors has given a brief speech about her life, but they had only read the words he had given them, or what was publicly available. Nothing personal. Because no one knew her. Her otkazastya friends had died in the war. Her few Grisha friends had been executed for treason. She had no family, never spoke to the servants or nobles, never joined in any social activity. She may have only bred dead for a week, but she had been a ghost for decades.

********

He wakes up in a war tent, still feeling the phantom flames of the pyre he had thrown himself on, rather than face an eternity alone. As Ivan runs him through his schedule for the day, he is handed a manifest for a fold crossing and he stares, fixated on one name. Alina is here. She is alive. She believes herself otkazatsya, and when he cut away those ties he didn’t bother to make sure she had new ones. Alone amongst Grisha, and unable to trust him, she had been nothing and no one, her note said. The paper crumpled in his fist. Not this time. This time, would be different.

*****

[adventure-showdown]

What is the Greatest Doctor Who story ever told?

and so we enter the final stretch, just 64 competitors remain, the seedings have been finalised and its time to make some even tougher calls. How long will the EU underdogs last and will your favourite be the ultimate victor (probably not)?

ROUND 1 ROUND 2 ROUND 3 ROUND 4

FINALS

Grand Final: The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances vs Midnight

Third Place: World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls vs City of Death

SEMI-FINALS

World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls vs The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances WINNER: The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances

City of Death vs Midnight WINNER: Midnight

QUARTER-FINALS

World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls vs Heaven Sent

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead vs The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances

Fires of Pompeii vs City of Death

Scherzo vs Midnight

rounds 5-7 under the cut

ROUND 7

Remembrance of the Daleks vs World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls WINNER: World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls

Heaven Sent vs The Three Doctors WINNER: Heaven Sent

Turn Left vs Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead WINNER: Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead

Vincent and the Doctor vs The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances WINNER: The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances

Partners in Crime vs Fires of Pompeii WINNER: Fires of Pompeii

Blink vs City of Death WINNER: City of Death

Caerdroia vs Scherzo WINNER: Scherzo

Midnight vs Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways WINNER: Midnight

ROUND 6

Chimes of Midnight vs Remembrance of the Daleks WINNER: Remembrance of the Daleks

World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls vs The Robots of Death vs Children of Earth World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls

Heaven Sent vs Dalek WINNER: Heaven Sent

The Three Doctors vs The Wedding of Sarah-Jane Smith WINNER: The Three Doctors

Alien Bodies vs Turn Left WINNER: Turn Left

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead vs The Romans WINNER: Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead

Vincent and the Doctor vs Captain Jack Harkness WINNER: Vincent and the Doctor

The Husbands of River Song vs The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances WINNER: The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances

The Curse of Fatal Death vs Partners in Crime WINNER: Partners in Crime

The War Games vs Fires of Pompeii WINNER: Fires of Pompeii

The Natural History of Fear vs Blink WINNER: Blink

City of Death vs Doctor Who and the Pirates WINNER: City of Death

Father's Day vs Caerdroia WINNER: Caerdroia

Zagreus vs Scherzo WINNER: Scherzo

Midnight vs Survival WINNER: Midnight

Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways vs Night of the Doctor WINNER: Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways

ROUND 5

The Chimes of Midnight vs Unnatural History WINNER: Chimes of Midnight

Remembrance of the Daleks vs The Curse of Fenric WINNER: Remembrance of the Daleks

World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls vs The Greatest Show in the Galaxy WINNER: World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls

The Robots of Death vs Children of Earth TIE

Heaven Sent vs The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot WINNER: Heaven Sent

The Green Death vs Dalek WINNER: Dalek

The Star Beast vs The Three Doctors WINNER: The Three Doctors

The Marian Conspiracy vs The Wedding of Sarah-Jane Smith WINNER: The Wedding of Sarah-Jane Smith

Time Crash vs Alien Bodies WINNER: Alien Bodies

The Mind Robber vs Turn Left WINNER: Turn Left

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead vs Solitaire WINNER: Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead

The Romans vs An Adventure in Space and Time WINNER: The Romans

Vincent and the Doctor vs The Five Doctors WINNER: Vincent and the Doctor

The Magician's Apprentice/The Witch's Familiar vs Captain Jack Harkness WINNER: Captain Jack Harkness

Countrycide vs The Husbands of River Song WINNER: The Husbands of River Song

The Holy Terror vs The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances WINNER: The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances

The Curse of Fatal Death vs Human Nature WINNER: Curse of Fatal Death

Partners in Crime vs Lungbarrow WINNER: Partners in Crime

The War Games vs The Daemons WINNER: The War Games

Fires of Pompeii vs The Metaphysical Engine or What Quill Did WINNER: Fires of Pompeii

A Death in the Family vs The Natural History of Fear WINNER: The Natural History of Fear

The Happiness Patrol vs Blink WINNER: Blink

City of Death vs Mummy on the Orient Express WINNER: City of Death

Ghost Light vs Doctor Who and the Pirates WINNER: Doctor Who and the Pirates

Death of the Doctor vs Father's Day WINNER: Father's Day

The Curse of Clyde Langer vs Caerdroia WINNER: Caerdroia

Zagreus vs Genesis of the Daleks WINNER: Zagreus

Pond Life vs Scherzo WINNER: Scherzo

Midnight vs The Time Meddler WINNER: Midnight

Survival vs The Temptation of Sarah-Jane Smith WINNER: Survival

Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways vs The Caves of Androzani WINNER: Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways

Reset vs Night of the Doctor WINNER: Night of the Doctor

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

this is two stories you’ve written so far that use beans as a central image. is this deliberate? can we expect to see more beans?

you've uncovered the grand Beanverse conspiracy. you know too much and must be silenced.

you know i realised the same thing halfway through writing it. it wasn't consciously deliberate. chronologically QSH's Beantown was actually written before the Cao Beans. the surface-level explanation is that the author fucking LOVES beans. as a kid i'd just grab a bunch of beans from the kitchen and play with them, so that part was based on real life. come to think of it, i even had my own Imperial Eunuch (my cat alex). huh. life imitates art ect.

the Deep Literary Analysis is that beans symbolise resilience, nourishment and dormant potential. beans start out small and unremarkable, indistinguishable from their peers, but under the right conditions they can sprout into towering giants. e.g. the magic beans from jack and the beanstalk, and later jack himself as he slays the giant and realises his true potential. they also represent the transformative power of time/nature, and the difference facets of people. the seed, the edible vegetable, and the stalk kindling all spring from the same root. this complex interplay has long been observed by chinese poets, e.g. the famous bean poem where the beanstalks are used to cook the beans is used as a metaphor for familial strife, and was later attributed to Cao Zhi and his turbulent relationship with his brothers.

[a-separate-peace-musical]

A Secret Peace

Again, I want to thank everyone supporting this project. It’s actually mind-boggling to me and I’m so grateful.

Here’s the lyrics for another song: A Secret Peace. Finny tells Gene his conspiracy theory about the war as they train for the Olympics. This one was so fun to write.

The words in italics are just dialogue

—

FINNY

I think it’s obvious if you look under the surface

GENE

What’s obvious?

FINNY

Why they’re forcing us into service

You know the Roaring 20s? A time of jazz and fun

People did what they wanted, they were wild and young

But the old men, who run the country didn’t like that much

So they tried Prohibition, but that was a bust

They caused the Depression and that worked on our parents

But they needed something else for us

GENE

What are you saying?

FINNY

The war, it isn’t happening

It’s just a grand old story

They’ll control us with fear and rationing

While they eat steak in their mansions in glory

GENE

Are—are you serious?

FINNY

It’s all a charade

A game that they’ve played for decades

They keep us afraid in this world that they’ve made

GENE

That’s very amusing, Finny, but I hope you don’t play this game too much with yourself. You might start to believe it, and then I’d have to make a reservation for you down at the Funny Farm.

FINNY

The whole world is a Funny Farm today

Just think about it

The old men made this and we’re stuck in the middle

They’ve hidden the truth, twisted like a riddle

There’s a secret peace and they won’t show it

It’s all one big joke and only they know it

GENE

And you

FINNY

Yes, and me

GENE

And what makes you so special? Why should you get it and all the rest of us be in the dark?

FINNY

Because I’ve suffered!

Heavy silence

FINNY

Did I ever tell you I was training for the Olympics?

GENE

No, you didn’t.

FINNY

Well, I was. And now I’m not sure I’ll be, you know, completely in shape by 1944. So I’ll train you for them instead.

GENE

There won’t be an Olympics in 1944. ‘Cause of the war…

FINNY

Leave your fantasy out of this. We’re grooming you for the Olympics in 1944, pal.

GENE

I can see/it’s foolhardy

But I don’t suppose there’s any harm in aiming for a dream

And peace returns to Devon

Only for me

As the days go by we fall into a rhythm

Our own separate vision

Of the world and its inner workings

He keeps up the charade

And I find myself falling in the

World that he’s made

FINNY

It’s all a conspiracy

Just think about it

GENE

And so I thought about it

It was true, our view of the war was distant

Only what was told us

We saw nothing with our own eyes

Maybe this was their way to mold us

Maybe there’s no real threat

And maybe we won’t have to die yet

And I know I don’t believe him

But it’d be nice if it were true

So I partake in this game of innocence

As we train, just us two

And we establish our own secret peace

Separate from harsh reality

And my fears of the war, they all slip away

Like dew in the sunlight, evaporating

And suddenly I know/my place is right here

With him, in our secret and separate peace

And I feel like I just dodged a bullet

I feel like I dodged a barrage

The tidal wave has passed us by, for now

Peace returns to Devon

Only for him and me

And suddenly I know/my place is right here

With him, in our secret and separate peace

Yes, now I know/my place is right here

With him, in our secret and separate peace

[a-s-illustrations]

A chance meeting at Lougetown sets the tone for the future of Crocodile and Doflamingo.

Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

“For too long, villains and miscreants have sown havoc across our seas. But the Marines, on behalf of your World Government, strive to keep you safe and protected. And today we’ve made a great stride in that effort. Gold Roger, the so-called King of the Pirates, has been captured."

Crocodile huffed, partly in annoyance at the bold claims and partly in disgust at the prisoner that knelt grinning down that crowd. The hot mid-day sun beat down the crowd but no one seemed to care. All eyes, his included, were fixed on the scene playing out before them. He was tucked away into a side alley; the darkness of the location providing both shade and a place away from the masses where he could watch unbothered. He hated crowds. Hated the press of bodies against his own; the smell that stuck in his nostrils and the cacophony of voices that rang in his ears. He would have never come to this place if it wasn’t for the fact that he simply had to see if the news was true. To his dismay and disappointment, it was. Gold D Roger, the Pirate King, was about to be executed.

His reign of terror ends this day. Peace shall be restored. Let this be a message to break the spirit of anyone foolish enough to follow in his footsteps. Gold Roger, you have been sentenced to death for the crimes of piracy, thievery, and conspiracy against the World Government.

“What a joke,” a deep rough voice spoke behind him. He snapped around; one hand on his rapier handle; the fingers of his other hand flexed and ready to turn the intruder into a dried husk in a matter of seconds.

A tall young man towered over him; oddly curved shades blocked his eyes but his gaze was transfixed on the podium. He didn’t even look in Crocodile’s direction. He didn’t know if to be wary or offended by the action. “They talk about his crimes when they commit even worse ones in the names of their so-called justice,” the young man continued, “Everyone here knows it.”

Crocodile gave a non-committal grunt and followed his gaze to the podium. “Even if they know it, they will do nothing about it. It is hard to push against the grain when you’ve been bred to follow all your life.” He felt the stranger’s gaze turn to look down at him but he didn’t look up to confirm.

By the authority of the World Government… I declare your life forfeit…

Crocodile found his hand gripping the handle of his rapier tightly; his teeth clenched. Where was the Pirate King’s Crew? Where were his friends and comrades in arms? The men that sailed all of Grand Line with him? Did they abandon him in his time of need? Were they going to sit by and watch their Captain die? Was he really going to see another Empire crumble to dust because no one was loyal enough to stand with their leader?

Pirate King, where is your treasure?

A lone voice rang out. The question silenced the crowd like a gunshot. The atmosphere suddenly shifted; like the air before a storm. Charged and with the innate anticipation that something wonderful and terrible was coming.

Tell us where you hid it!

Another voice rang out. Then another and another. Pleas, demand, and begs filling the air and falling upon the ears of the world like raindrops on parched earth.

"You want my treasure?

Crocodile has expected his voice to sound frail but instead, it boomed from the podium, carrying easily over the waiting hearts below. He found himself holding his breath.

You can have it! I left everything I gathered together in one place. Now you just have to find it."

It was like a thunderclap from the clear blue sky. The crowd drew in a collective breath and exploded in cheers. The noise was like a tsunami; rushing in and destroying everything in its path. The crowd seemed to surge like a rouge tide; bodies swirling and then flooding towards to sea.

Crocodile jerked back almost instinctively to get out of the way; coming up short against a firm chest behind him. Large hands curled around his shoulders to steady him. He snapped his head up annoyed that the stranger didn’t get out of his way. A pair of cerulean blue eyes locked into his from behind those ridiculous pink shades.

“Not so hard to push against the grain when you have an incentive,” the man’s grin seemed to split his face in two. Crocodile frowned as his own observations were used to argue against him but before he could retort the man continued. “I’m going to do great things in the future. You should join me.”

Crocodile bristled. “How ironic that I am going to do the same, maybe you should join me?” He smiled wide, baring his teeth to the other man. The man’s smile grew impossibly wider and his eyes took on a look of cruel intent. Crocodile knew in his bones that he would never be able to work with someone like this. They were too much alike and any agreement would end in betrayal or worse.

“How about a wager then?” the stranger asked. Crocodile narrowed his eyes a bit.

“Continue.”

“Let’s see who builds something that lasts,” a long, pink tongue darted out to wet chapped, thin lips.

“I accept,” Crocodile replied, his lips twisting into an almost sensual smile, eyes half-lidded like the predator he was, “Now get your hands off me.”

The stranger cacked a low, deep fu fu fu before pulling away, long fingertips grazing the skin of Crocodile’s neck, causing his skin to goosebump in disgust at the unwelcome intimate gesture.

“I’m Donquixote Doflamingo,” the tall man finally introduced himself.

“Sir Crocodile,” Crocodile offered almost offhandedly.

Doflamingo sidestepped around him and stepped out of the alleyway into the blazing sun. His pale gold hair lit up like a halo of a corrupt god. He turned to look back at Crocodile.

“Till we meet again on sea or on sand.”

And with that he was gone; loping strides taking him through the crowd quickly and vanishing from view.

Only then did Crocodile allow himself to squirm; his body shuddering as if trying to shake off Doflamingo’s touch. Turning on his heel he headed towards the nearest tavern. He hoped that he never had to cross paths with that bastard again.

[peachdoxie]

Man, some people are so ready to believe every disliked change on Tumblr involves some grand conspiracy by all of the staff. A literal complaint I just read was that Tumblr implemented the new dashboard layout the day after @wip closed their inbox so that we users couldn't submit feedback for a week. It's so stupid because 1) the best place to give Tumblr feedback is through their support page tumblr.com/support and 2) I'm pretty sure @wip closes their inbox every week at the same time so that the people who run the blog have time to address concerns without being overwhelmed by constant asks. Not everything is some conspiracy to silence the people of Tumblr for fuck's sake.

[mamamittens]

High Price for a Date+18

(despite the title, there is no date to be had. SMH at you, Ace)

Part 8/13 of Spooktober 2023!

Ace X OC(Saki)

@spitfire-of-the-sea

Warnings: Public sex (in alley), praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, marking, and possessive behavior. Oh! And a kick to the dick!

Word count: 2,750

It was a mistake.

An honest mistake.

Some wires got crossed, a miscommunicated memo from a high up supervisor, and the coffee machine switched to decaf in the middle of a late night shift in IT.

That’s how Saki got clearance to government files well above her paygrade. Same department, wrong researcher. And the things she saw when she opened the file, curious as to what her next project was intending to be—maybe the old researcher wasn’t making enough progress? Wouldn’t be the first time she had to pick up where someone else left off—

She threw up into the trashcan.

Not even remotely prepared for the experiment files she saw.

Had it been just about any other file, she would have been made to sign a new NDA with a bonus to never breath a word of it to anyone. Rumor had it, one of her coworkers went through something similar, but obviously no one could ask about it.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t any other file.

And Saki knew it.

And there was no hiding that she saw it.

So here she was, packing a bag to get out of town as fast as possible after completing her shift to try and look as innocent as she could. Not that it would help, but it at least meant that if they wanted to buy her silence they had time to do so. The fact that they didn’t send her an email or meeting request meant they had no intention of paying her off.

And judging by the disarray of her apartment, she’d had access to those files for a lot longer than she thought. Why else would it have been searched thoroughly if not to ensure she didn’t make copies and cover her tracks? Must not have seen her throw up—or maybe they assumed a conspiracy was afoot and that this is just when she stepped off into the deep end. The point is that they weren’t even bothering to ask her, so she was definitely fucked.

Bag of the most bare essentials packed, she didn’t bother locking up. She left through the fire escape into the alleyway. Noting with horror that suspiciously well-dressed individuals were entering her apartment building trying to look casual.

Saki slipped away, heart pounding as she considered how best to escape. She didn’t have any connections outside her job. And none of her coworkers were liable to risk themselves to save her. Wherever she went, she’d need to do it fast. There was no telling if they already knew where she was. So it would have to be somewhere the government didn’t have so much sway…

Saki paused. Anxiety pooling in her stomach.

She knew exactly where to go.

It was arguably more dangerous than just turning herself in. But that was no better than an execution. And plenty of people lived normal lives in the Grand Line District.

Including the gangs.

Choice made, Saki ran. Already knowing exactly how to get there—it was uncomfortably close but that meant the apartment was pretty cheap. Who knew saving money would likely end up saving her life? Her boots clicked on the pavement as she weaved between alleyways, ducking out of street view at every opportunity. Despite being two in the morning, there was an unusual amount of traffic.

Every vehicle slowing down at they passed an open alley before speeding off. Leaving her heart racing as she ducked behind trash piles and corners. Distant shouts somewhere off behind her spurring her to run faster. The buildings falling into disrepair with every street she crossed, closer and closer to the gang-ridden district.

She knew she was in the right place when she spotted disheveled individuals looking around outside of businesses. Likely wondering if there was a raid planned nearby and if they needed to warn whoever was inside to make a break for it. A few tried to stop her, but she was still too close to the border of the district. If she stopped now, it would be all too easy for her to be dragged back. How close was too close? She wasn’t sure.

But she likely wouldn’t be able to stop running despite her aching lungs until she was near the heart of the district. The gangs—any of them really—would take great offense to government stooges getting anywhere near that far in.

After that… well, she needed to get there first. No way to know if someone she runs into is secretly a mole.

Saki had been running on fear and adrenaline for the past four hours, almost half running into the most dangerous territory her city had to offer. Which is why it really wasn’t a surprise that she startled so bad someone grabbed her arm.

Firm but not hurtful, the large hand squeezed as she lurched past him.

“Hey, sweetheart, where are you goin—NGH!” Her leg swung out behind her, heel of her boot intending to curb stomp the man’s stomach going right into his dick instead. Still, it broke his grip as he nearly fell over, protectively cupping himself as he wheezed. In the dingy streetlight, his orange hat looked almost neon. The only thing she registered as she ran faster despite her exhaustion. “W-Wait! Shit! F-fuck… ow!”

She heard him give chase faster than she thought he could have, though his steps were unsteady at first.

There was a light chime and an answering gasp.

“H-Hey, Marco! Huh? Yeah, I-I think I found out why they’re swarming the place now—trying to catch up to her actually, can you guys—thanks!” His footsteps thundered faster as she tried to slip around a corner. “Hey! HEY! WAIT UP!”

Saki did not ‘wait up’ for the man. Not even a little bit. But she knew she wasn’t going to be able to run for much longer.

Her legs were shaking and the prospect of stopping was growing increasingly tempting, even if it meant she’d likely be shot.

Somehow, miraculously, he started to sound further and further behind her. Like he was flagging quickly. Maybe kicking his dick was finally paying off for her.

And then, suddenly, she was alone. The distant sound of sirens so far away she thought it was just her ears ringing. The buzz of streetlights above her almost hypnotic as she leaned against the rough brickwork and slid to her feet, panting. Mouth dry as she just tried to catch her breath. Her thighs burning with every muscle in her legs aching with relief.

Saki knew she wasn’t going to be able to get up for a good long while.

She closed her eyes and allowed the sensations of pain and exhaustion to fall away. It was dangerously unsafe to fall asleep here but she was just so tired and scared and tired of being scared.

A warm, calloused hand brushed over her face and she jerked.

Her fist caught in a large hand, mid-strike to his groin. Familiar orange hat burning in the dim light as he chuckled nervously.

“Eh-heh, no. Not again, pretty girl.” He drawled, grinning softly. Tan skin glowing and flushed, freckles scattered liberally over his sharp features. Despite his handsome appearance, Saki felt her heart drop.

Portgas D. Ace.

One of the most wanted men in the city.

And he was kneeling in front of her, cradling her clenched fist with an amused expression.

“W-What do you want?” Saki stuttered, pressing back against the wall.

“What’s the government’s dogs doing all the way out here chasing after you? Are you some to-do’s pretty date that finally slipped away?” Ace asked softly, pressing a kiss to her fist. “Bastards running down a pretty thing like you—gotta be for something big.”

Saki swallowed hard, face flushed as he leaned in closer. Caging her in like he couldn’t help but be drawn in like a moth to flame.

“I-I’m a researcher… Saw something I shouldn’t have that they wanted to hide. C-Couldn’t stay.” Saki’s heart raced as he pressed her fist to his lips. Rubbing her soft knuckles across them like it was a habit.

“Hmmm… should have known they wouldn’t send that many people after just a pretty face. You’re so exhausted you started to fall asleep in an alley. I can think of much nicer places to rest after giving those dogs the slip.” Ace purred, eyes dark as he smiled against her knuckles. Daring her to ask.

“… And where would that be?” Saki whispered, his free hand reaching up to tease a blond strand from her ruined bun that hung low on her shoulder from hours on the run.

“My bed. Room for two. Those pretty legs have been running all night~ They could use a rest. Maybe a massage~?” Ace grinned as she looked at him with wide eyes, his hand drifting down to squeeze her thigh.

He was unfairly pretty.

If this was at a bar, she wouldn’t have hesitated for a fun night at his place.

Hell, after the stress of her night, she didn’t know if she could resist the temptation right now.

“You’re not pissed I kicked you?” Saki asked and he snorted.

“Nah, I like your fire, baby~” Ace sighed, leaning in slowly to kiss her. Murmuring against her lips. “You can do it again if you kiss it better.”

She moaned as his tongue pressed over her lips. Slipping over her tongue slowly as a pleased sound vibrated from his chest. Her hands came up to press onto his hot shoulders. Realizing now how cold it was out. Her numb body finally warming up as he slipped his hands under her ass and picked her up. Pressing her against the wall, cock hard against her thigh.

She gasped for air when he finally pulled back.

“S-Seems like you want a lot more than a kiss.” Saki noted, Ace’s laugh ghosting over her lips as his silver eyes drank in her flushed features.

“I do. I want a lot more than just a kiss. But if I get it, there’s no going back for you, baby. If you let me have a bite, there won’t be anyone else for you. My bed will be yours, and you will be mine.” Ace pecked her lips, licking at them. “You know who I am. What I can do. That’s nothing compared to what I will do if anyone touches what’s mine. I’d burn down this whole city for you… but first, you have to be mine.”

He rocked into her, grinding against her cunt with every thinly veiled threat.

And Saki knew that he could tell how wet she was. Her panties sliding against her pussy with every thrust.

It was a bad idea. But with such a beautiful man promising her safety and her every desire, she couldn’t think of anything better. His hot body burning against her aching, trembling thighs.

“You don’t even know my name.” Saki moaned, making no move to stop his slow thrusts or gentle kisses down her neck.

“I could give you hundreds. Every one of them meaning you belong to me.” Ace pressed his tongue onto her throat, sucking a mark into place. “Pretty girl. Princess. Baby. Anything you want if it makes you wet like this.”

“Y-You can’t just say that to people you just met!” Saki protested sharply, nearly whining as his teeth grazed her skin.

“I don’t. Just you~ pretty spitfire. I like a woman who isn’t afraid to bite back a little. But I love a woman that looks like heaven pinned to the wall. Think you could look like nirvana with my marks on your body and dripping on my cock? Wanna find out?” Ace asked, panting as his hot tongue swept down to her collar bone to make another mark. “I fucking do. Say it. Say you want this. Tell me you want to be my pretty girl.”

Saki broke, cunt aching with the constant stimulation of her slick panties grinding into her clit.

“I-I want it! I want to be your pretty girl, Ace~!” Saki whined, squirming against him. “P-Please—ahhnnn~!” He bit down hard with a groan, hand slapping onto the wall as he pinned her in place with his chest. Free hand shoving down her pants until the fell to the ground. Freeing his own cock to bounce against her ass, flicking drops of pre over her skin.

“Good girl~” Ace purred, gripping her thighs in his palms and lifting them up against her chest. Tip of his cock slipping over her soaked cunt as he threw her calves over his broad shoulders. “Is my cute pussy ready? Yeah? Good, I’m not waiting to take my pretty girl for a ride~”

Saki gasped, jerking as his hot cock slipped into her despite how thick he was. He felt almost burning hot inside her as he hilted with a satisfied groan, pressing as close to her as possible. Ace’s hungry grin all she could see as he fucked her against the wall effortlessly. Brick cutting into the back of her shirt as he drove into her.

The alley filling with his filthy praise and the sound of her wet cunt being fucked open.

“You feel better than I thought—pussy so tight, it’d be such a fucking waste not to fill it up.”

“Feels good being my pretty girl, doesn’t it? My pretty girl doesn’t need to do anything but take it—you wanted to take it all, didn’t you? Anywhere I want you, you’ll be there, right? Spreading your pretty thighs for me to fuck.”

“Pussy to die for, if you don’t soak the ground I’m not done yet. So you better be ready, baby. Make that pretty voice die from screaming on my cock.” Ace panted, slamming into her harder as she began to shake. “S-Shaking already, baby? Oh, we’re going to have so much fun if you’re already shaking for me. Go on and cum, baby. Soak my cock and squeeze it until it aches. My pretty girl will never be empty again~”

“A-Ace~! Aaaaaace~!” Saki wailed, body seizing as she squirted hard onto his cock. Splashing over his lower stomach and thighs. He moaned loudly, kissing her feverishly as he fucked her faster, drawing out her orgasm as she began to whine. “Ace—aceaceaceA-A-Aaaaccee~! Yes! O-Oh~! ACE~!”

Ace slammed into her, cock throbbing in her tight walls as he came. Hot cum spilling out in thick spurts. The both of them moaning and kissing messily. Bodies uncoordinated and trembling from pleasure.

Ace grunted, pressing his face into neck as he squeezed her ass. Slowly pulling out with a whine.

Then he slammed back in and she yelped.

“G-Gonna make my pretty girl cream—keep saying my name. Tell everyone who’s fucking you this good until those dogs know how untouchable you are.” Ace hissed. “Only one allowed to touch you is me. Me. My pretty girl who looks like an angel on my cock.”

Saki gripped his shoulders, pulling herself closer to him as she moaned. Folded open for his cock and pinned until he was satisfied.

“A-Ah! A-Ahn~ A-Ace! Oh! A-Ace, ‘m yours! Your p-pretty girl! Oh, Ace~!” She keened, cumming hard again as he barely grunted in acknowledgement. Railing into her harder.

“R-Ready for more, angel? I’ve got so much more where this came from, and every last drop in going right here.” Ace panted, grinding his cock into her as he came again. He stopped, heart pounding so hard she felt it against her thighs. Sweating and shaking he kissed her softly.

Laughing as she moaned.

“My pretty girl had enough yet?” Ace breathed against her lips.

Saki was exhausted. Adrenaline crashing in her system as the possibility of death drifted further away with every second Ace’s cock bullied her cunt. The handsome man easily keeping her in place with his eyes clearly eager for more.

And so was she.

“T-Thought you weren’t stopping until I couldn’t talk.” Saki rasped.

Ace grinned.

“And that is why you’re mine.” Ace cooed gently before immediately fucking her against the wall hard. “Because you’re so damn eager to take it until you break.”

He kissed her hair, pressing his lips against her ear as he groaned.

“My pretty girl. Even if you break, you’re mine.”

“Yours!” Saki whined in agreement, thighs soaked in sweat and cum. She pressed a wet kiss to his burning neck. “…yours.”

Ace laughed.

“Good girl.”

[awesomecooperlove]

▶️▶️▶️▶️▶️IMPORTANT MESSAGE ◀️◀️◀️◀️◀️

⚠️⚠️⚠️

Warning: Unveiling the Shocking Web of Silence and Conspiracy in the Dark Corners of the EU

Prepare to have your perception shattered as we delve into the spine-chilling world of secretive European Union countries, covertly striking deals with the ominous connections of none other than Epstein. Hidden beneath a veil of silence, these nations have been complicit in unimaginable cover-ups, concealing sinister truths that will soon be unleashed upon the world.

Picture the catastrophic consequences when the full extent of the United Nations, CIA, and EU's involvement in the Epstein pedophile ring, along with their unholy alliance with captured governments and blackmail rings, comes bursting into the light. Brace yourself, for a tempest is gathering momentum, poised to engulf the darkest corners of society.

Behind the scenes, military intelligence, acting as guardians of the deep state's Epstein operations, have masterfully shielded these abominable activities. Their elaborate network of connections intertwines with global banks, covertly financing the abhorrent enterprises of human trafficking, sex trafficking, and money laundering. The very foundations of the world order are teetering on the precipice of destruction, as the nefarious operations of the global elite hang precariously in the balance.

Be forewarned, for the cataclysmic unraveling of this web of deceit and corruption is imminent. The guilty parties will face the reckoning they so richly deserve, as the truth, like a merciless storm, sweeps away the veil of lies and manipulation. The walls that shielded the perpetrators will crumble under the weight of indisputable evidence, exposing their vile deeds for all the world to witness.

This revelation will shake society to its core, shattering the illusion of safety and trust. The implications of this grand exposé will reverberate across nations, prompting unprecedented outrage and demanding justice on a scale never before seen.

Prepare yourself for the reckoning that looms on the horizon, for the storm of truth is gathering strength, ready to strike with unrelenting force. The era of complacency and complicity is drawing to a close, heralding a new chapter in our history, where the victims are heard, and those responsible for their suffering face the consequences they so arrogantly evaded for far too long.

Follow for more:

▶️▶️▶️https://t.me/CharlieWardFriends◀️◀️◀️

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

Can you PLEASE let us know the story of why you thought Macklemore was assassinated in a thrift shop? I can't stop thinking about your tags

the honest answer is that I have no idea why or how I actually started believing this, but I do distinctly remember that nobody had ever told me — there was no prank involved, thinking macklemore got shot to death in a thrift shop was something that was 100% all me. for context, this was something I thought from around 2013-2018. if you’re familiar with macklemore you’ll know this was after he dropped thrift shop (song), and also during an active album release (gemini, in 2017). as I said before, I don’t know what prompted me to end up thinking he was dead. but I do remember exactly what I thought happened, which I will now present as follows

1. macklemore is fatally shot in a thrift shop some time in late 2013

2. it’s all over the news (????????) and, thanks to his 2012 song thrift shop, is regarded as some sort of grand ironic shakespearean tragedy

3. a conspiracy begins to grow that this wasn’t a robbery gone wrong but, in fact, a targeted assassination of macklemore specifically

4. fuel is added to the fire when in 2016, from supposedly beyond the grave, macklemore drops his song drug dealer, which is about how reagan and the cia pushed drugs into low income communities, a tradition which is now being carried on by big pharma. obviously this has to mean something

5. I am young. I am stupid. I have the entire internet (????????) on my side. macklemore. was assassinated by the cia

6. in 2017, macklemore drops an entire album. instead of jumping to the logical conclusion that I must have imagined his death and the subsequent controversy, I go “wow. it’s really cool how macklemore’s good friends are putting out his unreleased work even though the cia might tried to silence him. I hope they’re safe from the vengeful spirit of ronald reagan”

7. sometime in 2018, I finally actually see livestreamed video of macklemore on tv in what is clearly the present year, and I am snapped out of my admittedly very funny delusion

as of now I have two leading theories about why/how this whole thing happened

theory #1 is that it was a recurring dream that progressed in real time. I have another dream that’s like this (term search “fuck park”, I think I’ve talked about it before), but the setting is unrealistic enough that I could always easily classify it as Not Real. the macklemore thing was, I guess, just too plausible for a tweenage me to dismiss as a dream

theory #2 is that it was a legitimate full on delusion. this is also a thing that I have experience with. I thought I was an experimental killer robot for four years straight once. but I know why I had that delusion — this one makes no sense whatsoever. I have no idea why I would have such a detailed delusion about something so unrelated to me, let alone something as random as macklemore

for a while in late 2018-2019 I thought it might be a mandela effect thing, but the more people I brought it up to, the more I realized I was maybe the only person on planet earth who held this belief, which makes no fucking sense to me because I distinctly remember it being talked about on the news and later theorized about online. there was a televised macklemore funeral that I to this day can recall specific details from

so who knows. at this point it could be that maybe I’m from another dimension where the only significant change is that macklemore was assassinated in a thrift shop in late 2013. it’s kind of just an unsolved mystery at this point because like how the fuck would you ever even begin to prove that

that being said, I’m making this a public call to action. of any of you reading this remember anything even remotely similar PLEASE let me know

[bolters-and-rivets]

OK, so, something I've been doing recently is working out what legal charges the antagonists of TTTE would face if we suspend our disbelief and imagine locomotives having to stand trial in a court of law.

Diesel (various episodes and specials throughout the show's run)

3 counts of destruction of property: damaging disused trucks. Pushing trucks into the harbour resulting in the loss of a consignment of china clay. Wasting an entire flat truck’s worth of paint.

3 counts of defamation: Spreading negative rumours about Gordon, James, and Henry.

1 count of frameup: Pinning the blame of the rumours on Duck.

1 count of attempted murder: Trying to get Fergus scrapped.

3 counts of assault: Bumping Thomas under a stone hopper. Bumping paint cans onto Thomas. Bumping Toby into a coal hopper.

Sailor John (Legend of the Lost Treasure)

4 counts of assault: stamping his foot on Skiff, elbowing Skiff to silence him, stamping on skiff AGAIN, battering thomas with an oar

4 counts of trespassing: riding Skiff on the construction site of the new branchline (3 counts). Entering the station out of regular hours

1 count of coercion: manipulating Thomas into his scheme to steal the treasure.

4 counts of theft: stealing the map, the stealing the treasure, stealing explosives, stealing a warship.

2 counts of intimidation: accusing thomas of taking the treasure for himself, threatening skiff with physical harm for “mutiny”.

1 count of unlawful possession of explosives.

1 count of breaking & entering: breaking into Sir Topham Hatt’s office.

1 count of destruction of property: using DYNAMITE to break into Sir Topham Hat’s safe.

1 count of vehicle hijacking: running amok with the ship on a flat wagon (lets ignore the physical improbability of this for the moment).

1 count of public endangerment: same reason as vehicle hijacking.

2 counts of attempted murder: trying to dynamite Thomas, leaving Thomas to drown.

And possibly also 1 count of prison break: he's seen in a later special (Big World: Big Adventures) in a cafe in brazil. Assuming this isn't just the studio reusing him as an asset as a background character this implies he escaped from prison and fled to brazil.

Diesel Ten (Thomas And The Magic Railroad & Day Of The Diesels)

7 counts of attempted murder: Lady twice, James, Junior, Mr Conductor, and Thomas (TATMR), Thomas (DOTD).

3 counts of property damage: Carving his likeness on the rock which would be the property of the landowner, tearing down the scaffolding of the sheds, bringing down the diesel shelter (TATMR). 

3 counts of Intimidation: The sheds, Mr Conductor on the Viaduct, and carrying Junior on his roof (TATMR).

1 count of conspiracy to commit genocide (wanting ALL steam locomotives scrapped): "I'm going to destroy her and dominate you, then you'll be nothing but hunks of useless scrap" (TATMR).

1 count of reckless driving: driving at excessive speed with Junior on his roof (TATMR).

1 count of unlawful imprisonment: Trapping Thomas in the shed (DOTD).

1 count of arson: setting fire to the shed (DOTD).

1 count of coercion: manipulating Percy into unwillingly assisting him in goals (DOTD).

1 count of trespassing: entering the dieselworks without the knowledge or permission of Victor (DOTD).

1 count of conspiracy to commit grand larceny: attempting to take control of the dieselworks (DOTD).

1 count of theft: stealing a christmas tree.

Verdict: Diesel is toxic, Sailor John is a pirate, and Diesel Ten is standing trial in the Hague for crimes against trainkind and small children

[magnetarbeam]

Scandal of the Century (WIP 2)

[The changes are mostly additions to the scene I wasn't finished with in the last version, and I did manage to work some of my thoughts about Jaina and Tahiri into an actual fic for the first time.]

“Do they have any clue about me?” Zekk asked.

Jaina and Jag considered their mutual fiancee's question as Javis Tyrr's holonews footage revealing the two's relationship played on the viewscreen in front of them.

“I don't think so,” Jaina admitted.

“I haven't seen any evidence of it,” Jag agreed after a second. “And we would have.”

The grins that crossed Jaina and Zekk's faces told Jag that whatever they were plotting over their unusually strong bond could be nothing but mischief. That didn't necessarily mean it was a bad idea, but one of them had to be reasonable, and that was usually Jag.

”All right,“ he sighed, ”let's hear it.“

”Since the nexu's already halfway out of the cage,“ Jaina said, her mischievous smirk widening, ”I think we should have a little fun with it.“

—

As much as she would have wanted to see the looks on the Masters' faces, the three of them did feel that Jaina and Zekk's duty as Jedi obligated them to let the Council in on it.

”It would help draw media attention away from the Order,“ Kyle Katarn said contemplatively.

“Which we desperately need,” Cilghal agreed.

Acting Grand Master Kenth Hamner pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed in exhausted exasperation. He said nothing, and they all knew that a specific direct order would be the only way to stop Jaina and Zekk from carrying out their scheme.

Kyp had been grinning in anticipation ever since he heard the proposal. ”I can't wait to see the look on Daala's face when you finish with this.”

—

“You could start a whole new Imperial custom,” Jaina joked, making fun of Jag for accidentally shooting his deputy minister in the foot as he foiled the recent assassination attempt. Zekk grinned as the playful banter went on.

Not for the first time, Zekk thanked the Force for how much both of his lovers had healed in the last few years, since those days off on Kashyyyk when they had all collectively realized how they truly felt about each other, after Jag had had to deliberately set himself up for Jaina to deliberately almost kill him in order to get through to her about how much of herself she was losing to her fixation on her training.

“So, your imperial majesty,” he asked Jag playfully, “does Conspiracy: A Methodology offer any advice on the best time to start our little scheme?”

Jag hummed in consideration. “If I ever get my hands on a copy, I'll let you know.”

———

The viewscreen wall displaying an image of Alderaan blew out, and an assassin entered, followed by two YVH droids. Jaina, Zekk, Leia, Han and Jag felled the attackers before the Pangalactus security personnel even entered the room. But then they were standing amidst the wreckage, and Jag was on the receiving end of a fusillade of profuse apologies.

And Jaina shot Zekk a grin. Now? she asked over their bond.

Now, he agreed.

Conveniently standing behind Jag, but in full view of the other observers, the two pulled into a passionate kiss.

———

”Well,“ Lecersen remarked after a moment of stunned silence. “I didn't see that coming.”

”No way,” Treen laughed as the conspirators observed the immediate fallout of the expected failure. ”This is too perfect.“

Lecersen smiled and began drafting the holonews article, with the scandalous capture as the cover image.

———

Over their mercifully uninterrupted second attempt at that night's dinner, Jaina didn't even notice that her ADHD meds were starting to wear off, because she was so hyperfocused on her anticipation.

She found what she was looking for even faster than she'd expected to.

The rest of the conversation, whatever it was, stopped in its tracks as she collapsed into helpless laughter, dropping the datapad on the table.

”Oh, this has gotta be good,“ Han remarked in anticipation.

Tahiri, who had joined them on the way back from Pangalactus, was quicker than Zekk in snatching the datapad from the table.

“'Jedi Cheating Scandal!'“ Jaina's sister read excitedly, raising her voice to be heard over Jaina's cackling. ”'The revelation of Head of State Jagged Fel's relationship with Jedi Knight Jaina Solo has drawn plenty of criticism from many, particularly Fel's detractors among the Imperial Remnant.'”

Tahiri paused for a moment as Jaina finally managed to get a grip, but the ”Galactic Empire“ correction didn't come because Jag had food in his mouth.

”'But it appears the situation may be even more complicated than anyone had realized,'“ Tahiri continued. ”'Mere hours ago, Head of State Fel was dining at the Pangalactus restaurant with his girlfriend, her parents, and fellow Jedi Knight Zekk, when an assassin blasted through a wall and attempted to kill Fel, followed by two YVH combat droids that attempted to kill the Organa-Solos in an apparently unrelated attack.

”'As the local security personnel arrived and conversed with Fel, Jedi Solo and Jedi Zekk kissed each other in full view of the holocams.'”

Tahiri paused for a moment, staring at the datapad incredulously, before continuing. “'Historically, Jedi Solo is not known for subtle approaches to problems, so it is quite a shock that she could keep a man as observant as Fel in the dark about a secret affair.

“'If Head of State Fel has not already heard of this story, he undoubtedly will soon. We wish him the best.'”

“And so,” Tahiri concluded dramatically, ”the Trickster works her magic again.“

”Kriff off, Ri.“ Jaina's smile belied the halfhearted eyeroll with which she habitually reacted to her sister's references to the act of deception that had long since become a running joke between them.

The nickname Ri was the syllable shared in the names from both of the personalities who had merged to form the individual who was called Tahiri today, and might or might not choose to be called Riina tomorrow. One never really knew.

[I don't really know where to go next with this. I've thought of having some scene spun off Jag's meeting with Lecersen in reaction to the attack at Pangalactus, which takes us to the end of Backlash. I might skip to mid(?)-Allies when the Skykhai vid goes viral, and the "breakup" of Jaina and Jag would also be staged for drama.]