#green rider covers

[pallanophblargh]

For those who are adventurous and don't want to wait around, I've listed all Green Rider series cover arts onto my dusty old Society6.

For the rest of you, here's a fun little compilation of all the horse heads over the years.

(The last four illustrations are being done in a smaller format to save my aging hands and time, but I like them as much if not more than the original four.)

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Green Rider Cover Art by Keith Parkinson

[whereserpentswalk]

Reblog to go on a date with your monster. Like to give them a little gift.

Look under the cut to see what meeting your joyfriend is like.

1 you walk into a messy apartment, it looks like this is their first place where they live alone, away from other angels. They're sitting on a Lome mattress, cuddling a stuffed animal and watching TV. Despite everything they're still beautiful, their body youthful, and sexless, and athletic, their four white wings forever stained with blood. They look up at you with rose gold eyes, afraid, apologizing for if they scared you. But to their surprise you don't shy away from them, and somehow they feel safe and pure when you sit down to talk to them.

2 you see them in the shadows, alone in the dark of an empty park, changing shape, first a muscular humanoid in armor, then a wolf dancing through the night, then a combination of both, then finally a modern human in a ragged trenchcoat. Despite all their forms, their eyes are always the same. They come up to you and bow with a smile on their face. You slowly aproch them, for whatever reason their voice seems so familiar. You greet them with your hand as you would an animal, even as they're in human form, as you slowly pet their scars for the first time.

3 within the golden halls of an ornate train station you see them for the first time, through the crowd with inhumanly green eyes. They notice you despite everyone else. And you notice everything off about them, the wrong numbers of teeth, their hands occasionally having more or less then five fingers before returning back to normal. It's wordless but it doesn't need words for you to tell them that they don't need to pretend to be human around you. And for a momment you see them, naked, with branches for antlers, and the wings of a monarch butterfly, a serpent's head where a human’s genitals would be, and teeth made out of broken glass, and then only a rose exists where they once stood, but you know you'll see them again.

4 you see them for the first time in an empty parking lot, a massive creature with black eyes and countless legs, glowing yet dark, as they come twords you they take notes in an unknowable language. They inspect you as the dark matter pitter patters across your face. You expect them to hurt you as they reach out their claw but they only gently pet your head. You can tell that they're suprised, you're more receptive then most humans are. They give you a small peice of food to let you eat right from their claw, and it tastes batter then anything on earth.

5 you meet them in a café on a quiet side street. They don't like being seen by too many people. Their body is beautiful, but so inhuman, tall and slender, with silvery armor covering them from the neak down, their face pale and their eyes long since ripped out and replaced with red mechanical replacements. They're a bit afraid you won't be ok with them when you first meet them, but you start talking, and though they're shy at first they like the sound of your voice. They let you pet their head and they cuddle up to you, and their body is warm like a churning machine as you hug them for the first time, and they feel comforted in your arms.

6 you see them in a dark subway station. They clearly once were human, centuries ago, their body forever young, but pale and skinny, their eyes turned white and their mouth jawless and fanged like a lampry's. Their body is entirely sexless, barely shielded from the cold by a ragged suit. Most people avoid them, but you ask if they're ok and they just look up at you, when you ask if they're hungry they nod. You agree to give them some blood, and it feels like they're giving you little kisses as you offer them your wrist. When they're full you hug their cold body, and for a momment they're made warm.

7 an undead servent slowly brings them over to you in a wheelchair. Though their mansion is beautiful it's trapped in time, and dark even in the daytime. You can see the computer they're trapped in, it must be decades old by now. They look at you with an avatar meant to look like a drawing of themself, or at least how they'd want to look. Something about them makes you want to touch them, but you know you never can. You put your hand to the screen, and you can feel the magic flow through you, and for a momment that's enough.

8 you see them sitting there alone in a bar. A slender androgynous humanoid, they're wearing a black suit but upon closer examination it's part of their body, never to be taken off. You sit next to them, and they smile at you, you talk for a few moments and it's like they know more about the universe then you could ever imagine. They pet your head, and it feels like it'll kill you, but it only makes you feel more alive. They hand you a business card with their number on it, it says they're a servent of hades, they tell you you can contact them again if you like, they'll be around. When you look again they're entirely gone once more.

9 walking through an abandoned mall you see them, a life sized puppet, with stars and moons on its outfit, and a painted mask for a face. Coming closer to them you can see there's red liquid on them, and strange otherworldly bugs and mushrooms on their body. When you try to touch them they float in the air, and move as if they're alive, for a momment you think they'll hurt you but they run away. When you find them again, tracking them down to a dark arcade, you see they're crying. They expect you to hurt them but you reach out to help them instead, nobody's ever tried to help them like that before...

10 you see them ontop of a skyscraper's roof. They youthful human wearing a leather jacket smiling as a massive reptile, with bat like wings, and massive steel fangs, and a tail like a scorpion's flies down to them. You wonder if they'll try to calm it but instead they move together like one being, their eyes the same yellow color. The creature comes twords you, fire in its mouth, and poison in its teeth. You realize the two beings are one in the same, as the wyvern bows its head, ready for you to ride it, with its human body at your side.

11 for a momment they chase you through the night, the hooded masked figure running twords you, blade in hand. But as you cross the street they can't follow, it's as if they've hit a wall. The gods themselves have bound them. While you're in safety you look at them, there's a sadness behind that mask. You wonder, if they can't hurt you here, would there be any reason to hate them, would they choose to spare you if they knew your face, your voice...

12 all you can see is blackness, yet there is no darkness, only this slick metallic liquid around you. The lake bubbles up creating a false body with its fluid, first male, then female, then both, then neither. It beckons you in, and you know it would not let you drown. When you step inside all you can feel, all you can see, is the fluid around you, and you feel as if you're being held.

[pensbridgerton]

On the sixth of April, in the year 1812—precisely two days before her sixteenth birthday—Penelope Featherington fell in love.

It was, in a word, thrilling. The world shook. Her heart leaped. The moment was breathtaking. And, she was able to tell herself with some satisfaction, the man in question—one Colin Bridgerton—felt precisely the same way. Oh, not the love part. He certainly didn’t fall in love with her in 1812 (and not in 1813, 1814, 1815, or—oh, blast, not in all the years 1816–1822, either, and certainly not in 1823, when he was out of the country the whole time, anyway). But his earth shook, his heart leaped, and Penelope knew without a shadow of a doubt that his breath was taken away as well.

For a good ten seconds.

Falling off a horse tended to do that to a man.

It happened thus:

She’d been out for a walk in Hyde Park with her mother and two older sisters when she felt a thunderous rumbling under her feet (see above: the bit about the earth shaking). Her mother wasn’t paying much attention to her (her mother rarely did), so Penelope slipped away for a moment to see what was about. The rest of the Featheringtons were in rapt conversation with Viscountess Bridgerton and her daughter Daphne, who had just begun her second season in London, so they were pretending to ignore the rumbling. The Bridgertons were an important family indeed, and conversations with them were not to be ignored.

As Penelope skirted around the edge of a particularly fat-trunked tree, she saw two riders coming her way, galloping along hell-for-leather or whatever expression people liked to use for fools on horseback who care not for their safety and well-being. Penelope felt her heart quicken (it would have been difficult to maintain a sedate pulse as a witness to such excitement, and besides, this allowed her to say that her heart leaped when she fell in love).

Then, in one of those inexplicable quirks of fate, the wind picked up quite suddenly and lifted her bonnet (which, much to her mother’s chagrin, she had not tied properly since the ribbon chafed under her chin) straight into the air and, splat! right onto the face of one of the riders.

Penelope gasped (taking her breath away!), and then the man fell off his horse, landing most inelegantly in a nearby mud puddle. She rushed forward, quite without thinking, squealing something that was meant to inquire after his welfare, but that she suspected came out as nothing more than a strangled shriek. He would, of course, be furious with her, since she’d effectively knocked him off his horse and covered him with mud—two things guaranteed to put any gentleman in the foulest of moods. But when he finally rose to his feet, brushing off whatever mud could be dislodged from his clothing, he didn’t lash out at her. He didn’t give her a stinging set-down, he didn’t yell, he didn’t even glare.

He laughed.

He laughed.

Penelope hadn’t much experience with the laughter of men, and what little she had known had not been kind. But this man’s eyes—a rather intense shade of green—were filled with mirth as he wiped a rather embarrassingly placed spot of mud off his cheek and said, “Well, that wasn’t very well done of me, was it?”

And in that moment, Penelope fell in love.

When she found her voice (which, she was pained to note, was a good three seconds after a person of any intelligence would have replied), she said, “Oh, no, it is I who should apologize! My bonnet came right off my head, and . . .”

She stopped talking when she realized he hadn’t actually apologized, so

there was little point in contradicting him.

“It was no trouble,” he said, giving her a somewhat amused smile. “I— Oh, good day, Daphne! Didn’t know you were in the park.”

Penelope whirled around to find herself facing Daphne Bridgerton, standing next to her mother, who promptly hissed, “What have you done, Penelope Featherington?” and Penelope couldn’t even answer with her

stock, Nothing, because in truth, the accident was completely her fault, and she’d just made a fool of herself in front of what was obviously—judging from the expression on her mother’s face—a very eligible bachelor indeed.

Not that her mother would have thought that she had a chance with him. But Mrs. Featherington held high matrimonial hopes for her older girls. Besides, Penelope wasn’t even “out” in society yet.

But if Mrs. Featherington intended to scold her any further, she was unable to do so, because that would have required that she remove her attention from the all-important Bridgertons, whose ranks, Penelope was quickly figuring out, included the man presently covered in mud.

“I hope your son isn’t injured,” Mrs. Featherington said to Lady Bridgerton.

“Right as rain,” Colin interjected, making an expert sidestep before Lady Bridgerton could maul him with motherly concern.

Introductions were made, but the rest of the conversation was unimportant, mostly because Colin quickly and accurately sized up Mrs. Featherington as a matchmaking mama. Penelope was not at all surprised when he beat a hasty retreat.

But the damage had already been done. Penelope had discovered a reason to dream.

Later that night, as she replayed the encounter for about the thousandth time in her mind, it occurred to her that it would have been nice if she could have said that she’d fallen in love with him as he kissed her hand before a dance, his green eyes twinkling devilishly while his fingers held hers just a little more tightly than was proper. Or maybe it could have happened as he rode boldly across a windswept moor, the (aforementioned) wind no deterrent as he (or rather, his horse) galloped ever closer, his (Colin’s, not the horse’s) only intention to reach her side.

But no, she had to go and fall in love with Colin Bridgerton when he fell off a horse and landed on his bottom in a mud puddle. It was highly irregular, and highly unromantic, but there was a certain poetic justice in that, since nothing was ever going to come of it.

Why waste romance on a love that would never be returned? Better to save the windswept-moor introductions for people who might actually have a future together.

And if there was one thing Penelope knew, even then, at the age of sixteen years minus two days, it was that her future did not feature Colin Bridgerton in the role of husband.

She simply wasn’t the sort of girl who attracted a man like him, and she feared that she never would be.

Romancing Mister Bridgerton - Prologue

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; HI!!! Its been a long time since I wrote a series but i cannot resist Feyd. English isn''t my first language so go easy on me. There will be smut in the future chapters. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉)

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 1.520K

Chapter 2

Chapter One – ‘’Meeting in flesh and blood’’

‘’Right behind you!’’ Irulan screamed as she was riding her horse to match Y/N’s. Y/N was a skilled rider, the wind in her long hair, she laughed at Irulan’s attempt of winning the race and focused on the finish line. Planet Kaitian which was the second Capital of the Corrino Empire had so many opportunities for Padishah Emperor Shaddam’s daughter Irulan and his beloved Y/N. The planet had forests, lakes and rivers so Y/N didn’t miss much of her home planet Caladan, she sometimes tossed and turned in her bed thinking of her family members but she was taken to Kaitain years ago. Irulan and Y/N were the same age and when Shaddam couldn’t have more children he asked Duke Leto Atreides to bring his first born daughter to be sisters with Irulan. Leto tried to find so many ways to refuse Padishah Emperor yet he was the ultimate power in the entire galaxy and Leto had no choice but to give his daughter Y/N. She was one years old when the arrangements were made. She could see her family at political events or celebrations, she had been in Caladan few times yet she felt stranger to the planet and she felt stranger to Kaitain as well. She has always wondered if, by any chance one day she would feel the sensation of ‘’being at home’’ nowhere and no one was her home. Maybe this was her fate.

When she finished the race her horse calmed down, Irulan followed behind. ‘’I swear you’re cheating and I am going to find out.’’ She was joking of course, Irulan and Y/N had a close relationship yet Y/N never forgot that she was a princess and there for needed to be treated more cautiously than the other lords and ladies of the galaxy. Together they hopped off of their horses, ‘’Walk with me.’’ Irulan’s  voice was soft yet direct. Her short blonde hair got messy, hem of her white long dress covered in mud, she was carefree when she was with Y/N.

Y/N had the color of her house Atreides. Green. Her green dress felt so light, they were walking on the grass for few minutes in silence., Y/N knew that Irulan wanted to say something.

Palace’s gardens were evergreen, gardeners achieved perfection. Gardens smelled of flowers at any time of the year. Irulan stopped in her tracks, they turned to soak in the scenery before their eyes, the entire planet was under their feet. Servants’ chatters could be heard, no matter what they were never alone. ‘’Soon my father will throw a ball for me.’’ She looked distant, Padishah Emperor Shaddam never had parties without a solid reason, it must be political. Before Y/N could ask Irulan explained simply, ‘’I will meet the man I have to marry.’’ Y/N knew one day that she had to marry someone in order to protect the power they had over the galaxy but she never thought the date would come this quick. Y/N had already a lover, only Irulan knew because he was from a lower house. She had a childish hope that one day she would marry him.

Irulan laughed in sarcasm, ‘’How I wish to be you, sister!’’ it was obvious that Irulan dreaded the situation.

There were no arrangements for Y/N and she was free for a long time or so she thought.

‘’I trust in Emperor’s decision. He won’t wed you to someone unworthy.’’ She tried to encourage her dear friend but Irulan stood there like a stone. ‘’Let’s head back.’’ Y/N said. A hollow silence followed them to the dining hall. Emperor couldn’t attend because he was dealing with preparations of the ball. The white marble fire place was lit and orange colors danced in the room, the dining hall was adorned with lavish furniture and a long wooden table. The wood came from Giedi Prime, it was called Pilingitam.

 Irulan seemed troubled, ‘’What’s on your mind sister?’’ Y/N asked. She was concerned for her, if she knew that she had to be concerned for herself…

She watched Irulan’s palm slithering on the Pilingitam table,’’ Majority of the houses will be at the ball,’’ she looked up to meet Y/N’s curious eyes, ‘’The Harkonnens will be too.’’ Y/N’s blood ran cold, she remembered the times where Emperor used to take them to Giedi Prime for political reasons. They had to sit and watch the games in the black and white arena. Gladiators killing each other…

She remembered a boy with pure blue eyes and full lips, ‘’I will fight there too when I’m old enogh.’’ He was sitting next to Y/N in his black outfit. He closed the tiny gap between him and Y/N, and he spoke quietly, ‘’Will you come and watch me?’’ he was speaking as if killing was a normal act. His knee touching Y/N’s, she remembered distinctly that the boy interlaced his little finger with hers. They were ten and yet Y/N could see Baron Vladimir’s influence on his poor nephew.

Y/N didn’t need to go back in her memories to detest the Harkonnens. Their families were in and out of war for centuries. Thankfully for a long time peace was kept. ‘’I will manage.’’ She insured Irulan with a genuine smile yet it wasn’t enough. Y/N brushed it off, after dinner she had mental training anyways.

Until the day of the ball she corresponded with her lover, Pyramus

He was a tall man with dark curls and jet black eyes. His beard always tickled her face.

She spent her days training and accompanying Irulan. Irulan grew restless as the they approached.

One by one the ships started to arrive, one could look up to the busy blue sky and see. Y/N’s family arrived early to see her and spend time with her. Lady Jessica, her mother, immediately questioned her about Y/N’s Bene Gesserit training, Duke Leto was happy to see her daughter once again. Paul, her one year younger brother gave her a tight hug.

They were united once more, she escorted them to their quarters in the palace and retrieved to get ready for the event. She wore a green dress with emeralds on her chest and waist, her maid braided her hair in Atreides style. She also wore an emerald tiara. Paul Atreides knocked on her door to escort her to the ball room, he looked sharp in his dark green suit. ‘’You seem nervous.’’ He questioned, -Y/N knew that her mother was teaching Bene Gesserit ways to her brother,- yes she was nervous because she was going to be reunited with her lover. ‘’Too many people.’’ She responded. Servants were running with food and wine on the corridors, music could be heard from a distance. Members of houses were having conversations about spice, politics, etc.

The doors of the room were open, inside was lit by the yellow warm lights coming from glowglobes, guests laughing and drinking. Tallest member was Baron Vladimir due to hanging in the air, eating like a mad man but she ignored him.

Her eyes searching for her lover, so blind to an outsider who got her under his radar.

Paul and Y/N walked to the table of their house, ‘’You look lovely my girl.’’ Duke Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone. He was a snake, silently slithering close to his prey.

Padishah Emperor Shaddam and his daughter Princess Irulan were announced and slowly entered the room, everyone bowed. They took their seats and Emperor greeted everyone, thanked them for coming to his feast and he also announced that he would choose the life partner of his daughter among his unmarried male guests. Duke Leto found himself watching his daughter with sad eyes, he wondered if he could see her wedding one day. Would she be happy and fortunate like him? Only time would tell but he prayed quietly.

It was time to dance, couples held each others’ hands and marched to the dance floor, Paul excused himself and went to ask the princess to dance with him. Leto happily asked Jessica to dance with him, Y/N wished that they were officially married but to keep his position as a powerful bachelor, other houses worked for him hoping that one day Duke Leto would marry one of their daughters. It was a well played game of chess on Atreides’s part. Y/N watched Irulan and Paul talking silently and dancing.

Soon Pyramus came with a huge smile. He kissed her hand and winked at her, ‘’My beautiful lady, would you be so kind and accompany me on the dance floor?’’ she tried so hard not to grin, ‘’Of course my lord.’’ He was in his house’s color, yellow. Hand in hand they mingled among the other couples, ‘’I’ve missed you.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not here.’’ She used the voice on him and his mouth closed in a second. Only their eyes talked.

They heard a rough cough and turned to face the intruder, Y/N had no idea that she would meet him in flesh and blood, ‘’Feyd…’’

[smilesrobotlover]

The sun felt warm as it shone against Talon’s skin, making his eyes grow heavy as he and his carriage slowly moved across Hyrule field. He had just sold some Lon Lon milk in Castle town, and left early in the morning so he could get home as soon as possible. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t a morning person, so he was doing everything in his power to stay awake. The last thing he needed was to fall asleep and get robbed by bandits.

The field was quiet and peaceful, the world not yet awakening from the sun barely peeking over the horizon. The gentle clip-clop of his horse’s hooves against the ground was soothing, and Talon began to feel too relaxed, finally giving in to his desires of dozing off.

A distressed whinny caused him to jolt awake. He looked around, expecting to be attacked by bandits or monsters, but all he saw was a small horse running to him, whinnying frantically at Talon.

“Oh my, where’d you come from, little one?” He wondered out loud, stopping his carriage and hopping off. The horse was noticeably young, with a beautiful chestnut coat and cream colored hair. It was a mare from what Talon could see, and looking at her coat, she seemed awfully familiar to him. She stomped up to Talon and gently bit his hand, attempting to drag him.

“Woah woah woah!” Talon pulled back, giving the horse a weird look. “What do ya think you’re doin’ little one?”

The horse whinnied again and started to shuffle to an area, clearly trying to get Talon to follow. Talon didn’t have much choice but to follow; a horse only acted like this when something was wrong.

“Where’s your rider?” He muttered, following the horse reluctantly. He didn’t know what he was being led to specifically, but seeing the size of the filly with a saddle of all things made him worried for a young rider, possibly injured somewhere. Seeing that Talon was finally following her, the filly started to trot towards a cluster of trees, stopping at a patch of bushes where she began to stomp around, impatiently nibbling and nudging the leaves on the bushes. Talon let out a sigh when he reached the spot, looking around to see if anything was out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. Was this filly just lost and was panicking, hoping to get help? Talon had to admit she seemed to be a smart horse, but he didn’t understand why he was led to a patch of bushes.

“Are you lost, little one?” He asked, watching as the young mare nibbled on the bushes. She nudged the leaves away with her snout while snorting, and Talon was able to catch a glimpse of blonde hair. He gasped and got on his knees, moving the bushes out of the way to reveal a young, blonde-haired boy with green clothes that blended in with the plants surrounding him. He looked to be about the same age as his daughter Malon, barely eleven, and his face was pale and covered in sweat. He wheezed as he breathed and he had a pained expression on his face, and Talon lightly touched his head to feel a burning fever. He frowned and began to shake him gently, seeing if he would wake up. The boy groaned and reacted to his touch, his eyes fluttering open. They landed on Talon immediately and several emotions flickered through his face.

“M-Mr– Bart—ten…” He choked out, his eyes tearing up as he stared at Talon. The farmer blinked for a moment, confused about what he was saying, but he let out a sigh and went to gather the boy in his arms. The poor thing was clearly delirious, and he needed medical attention.

“It’s ok, kiddo, I’ll take care of you,” he assured. The boy felt fragile in his strong arms, and he whimpered in pain as his head rested against Talon’s chest. The farmer wasted no time finding a spot for the boy in his carriage, having to move some empty bottles out of the way and laying strands of hay to add a cushion for him. He gently laid him down, finding a quilt tucked away in the corner of the carriage and swaddled him the best he could. It didn’t look comfy, but it was better than nothing. He tucked the empty bottles away to make sure they didn’t fall on him, and he grabbed a spare rope to tie to the back.

“I hope you don’t mind this, I have a feeling that boy is your rider,” Talon explained, tying the rope to the filly. The young mare surprisingly seemed willing to be tied to the carriage, and waited patiently as Talon hopped on his carriage, resuming his journey with more haste. He tried to keep a steady pace so the carriage wouldn’t jostle, and so that the mare wouldn’t be dragged behind, but he knew he needed to move fast if he wanted to get back to the ranch. He fortunately had medicine stocked up at home, knowing that if he, Malon, or Ingo got sick, he wouldn’t have time to go back and forth getting more, so the boy should be fine when they got there. He just hoped it wouldn’t turn into anything serious—Talon was knowledgeable on illnesses and injuries, but he was no doctor.

The sun was beginning to set when Talon arrived at Lon Lon, and he hopped off the carriage in front of his house, untying the mare and collecting the feverish boy in his arms.

“Daddy!”

Talon glanced up to see his little girl running towards him, an excited smile on her face. Talon smiled back and shifted the boy in his arms slightly.

“You’re back! Did ya get me anything?”

“Why yes, I did,” Talon said, pulling the boy out of the carriage and showing Malon. “I got you a new friend, but he’s a little sick right now.”

Malon’s eyes went big and she stepped forward, gently patting the boy’s arm. “Fairy boy! It’s Fairy boy! Don’t you remember him daddy?”

Talon looked down at the boy again. He was so distracted on getting him into his carriage, he didn’t recognize him as the young boy that visited Lon Lon Ranch over a year ago. Memories of him and Malon playing music at the ranch flooded in, and Talon only felt more inclined to take care of him. The situation became more personal.

“Epona!” Malon squealed, giggling at the filly who trotted towards her excitedly. Talon stared at the two’s reunion, Epona nuzzling Malon’s chest while she sang her favorite song. He smiled warmly at them and quickly headed inside, not wanting to wait much longer. So this boy and that horse used to be here in Lon Lon? Goddesses, it had been a while since Talon’s seen him, and yet it felt like it was only yesterday. Though the fairy boy was in their lives for such a short time, he left an impact on the ranch, specifically with Malon. He was the first kid her age that she’s met and played with, and Malon talked her father’s ear off about him since he went away with Epona in tow. Talon began to grow curious about where he was all this time, and why he was hidden in bushes with a burning fever.

The farmer walked up the stairs that led to his room and he set the sick boy gently on the soft mattress. He stared at him for a moment, his brow furrowed, trying to remember anything else about the little one, but nothing came up, so he turned around to get medicine, water, and a damp cloth. The folks at Lon Lon didn’t get sick often, so he hoped he remembered enough about taking care of a fever. When he went back upstairs to his room, he heard the boy whimpering, shifting in the soft bed. Talon quickly took off his shoes to make him more comfortable and rested his hand on his head. The fever was concerningly strong.

“Excuse me,” Talon said softly, gently shaking the boy. He groaned and his eyes fluttered open again, staring over Talon’s shoulder. He squinted his eyes and frowned.

“Romani? … How…?”

Talon raised an eyebrow and looked behind him, flinching when his daughter suddenly appeared.

“Goddesses, Malon, don’t sneak up on me like that!” He scolded. Malon gave an apologetic look, her dimples appearing as she smiled slightly.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to see Link! It’s been a while!”

Malon leaned over the fairy boy (or Link, Talon supposed), brushing his hair away from his face. Link looked horrified as he watched Malon, clearly looking uncomfortable.

“Malon, sweetie, let’s give him some space,” Talon spoke up, noting Link’s strange expressions. “I oughta give him some medicine anyhow.”

Malon hopped back and gave her father an excited look. “Can I help?”

“Oh! Well…” Talon glanced at the bowl of water and the cloth. “You can help wipe his face when I’m done givin’ him medicine, ok?”

Malon nodded excitedly, watching as Talon helped Link sit up. The boy was so weak that he could barely move on his own, and Talon eventually pulled him into his lap so he could lean against him. Talon gripped Link’s arm firmly so he could stay in place and began rummaging his hand all over the nightstand to grab the medicine. His daughter noticed his searching and grabbed the medicine for him and Talon gave her a grateful nod, uncorking the bottle and bringing it to Link’s lips.

“You think you can drink this?” He asked, and Link nodded, clumsily grabbing at the bottle and drinking it with Talon’s help. Talon had to pull it back a couple of times to make sure it didn’t spill everywhere, but Link was surprisingly cooperative for an eleven-year-old drinking the disgusting medicine; he remembered he always had to fight Malon whenever she needed it. The bottle was soon gone, and Link leaned back against Talon’s chest, his eyes closed. The farmer cradled him for a moment, figuring that Link needed that type of comfort, and Malon walked over as she watched him with her father, her head tilted with fascination.

“Is he gonna be ok?” Malon asked, and Talon looked up at her, nodding confidently.

“I’m sure he will be,” he said, carefully moving Link so he could get off the bed. He laid him down and pulled the blankets over him, giving his hair a soft ruffle before pulling away.

“I’m gonna put the carriage away, Malon. You keep an eye on him, ok?” Talon said, and his daughter nodded back at him. Talon lingered for a moment, worriedly watching them, but finally left the room. Ingo was outside staring at the carriage annoyed, but he quickly scurried away when Talon showed up. The farmer glanced over at Epona, who was watching him silently. Talon frowned and walked over to her, giving her a gentle pat on the snout.

“That boy doesn’t have a family, does he?” He asked, knowing that Epona wouldn’t answer. It was something Talon noticed when Link first arrived. Though he didn’t remember much, he did remember that Link was by himself whenever he saw him. The only company he had was his fairy. Talon shouldn’t be too surprised—if Link really was a Kokiri, then it’d make sense why he’d have no family. But Kokiris died when they left the woods, didn’t they? Or was Link finally experiencing the death a Kokiri had when they were out of the woods? Talon rubbed his eyes with a soft grumble. He really didn’t know if any of that was true, but it made Talon slightly worried. Despite remembering that Link was from the lost woods, Talon couldn’t help but feel that he was a Hylian. Everything down to his mannerisms made him seem far more mature than the Kokiri ever were. They remained as children, their bodies and mentalities never changing, even for centuries. But Link…. His face held a mature understanding of the world that Talon only saw in adults. Either way, Talon couldn’t risk him dying. If he needed to return to the woods, he would take him there, he just needed to learn more about him.

Talon led Epona and his carriage to the barn, letting her and the horses roam with the others before returning to the house with warm Lon Lon milk. He was expecting Link to be sound asleep, but to his surprise, he was already trying to get out of bed despite Malon’s protests.

“Link, honestly! You can’t be gettin’ up now! You could barely drink the medicine my daddy gave to you!” She shouted, trying to shove him back to bed.

“I… I’ll be fine,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and hoarse. He brushed Malon off and reached for his shoes, but grew out of breath.

“Link! You’re sick! Lay back down!”

“I can’t stay…”

Talon entered the room with haste, setting the bottle of milk down as he walked up to Link. The boy stared up at him, his light blue eyes wide with guilt.

“Do you need to go to the woods?” Talon asked him, and Link frowned.

“What?”

“The woods? The lost woods? Where all them youngins are in?”

“O-oh, Kokiri forest?”

“Yeah, that. I hear Kokiri die when they’re away from the forest for too long. You… you’re a Kokiri, right?”

A devastated look took over Link’s exhausted face, his eyes spacing out as he looked down. “No…”

Talon frowned at his reaction, and he glanced over at Malon who looked concerned.

“No?”

“I-I’m not going to the woods… I’m not a Kokiri… I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t–I don’t belong anywhere,” Link’s voice grew so quiet that Talon almost didn’t catch what he said at the end. It was quiet in the room, and Link slowly went to grab his shoes, but Talon stopped him.

“What’s the rush then?”

“I… can’t stay….”

“Why not?”

“Because I…. I…” Link stammered, trying to push out a good argument, but with his feverish mind and exhausted body, he couldn’t. Talon sighed and gently pushed him back, and Link obliged, laying down on the pillow, his eyes half closed.

“At least get some rest before you decide to travel, ok?”

Link’s eyes went wide for a second, before closing, and he was finally asleep. Talon sighed and gave his head a pat, giving a proud smile to Malon.

“You handled that well, dear.”

Malon brushed some hair out of her eyes and sighed. “Thanks daddy. He sure is a stubborn one, ain’t he?”

Talon shrugged and stared at the young boy. So he wasn’t a Kokiri, that meant he wasn’t dying, thank the goddesses. But everything else about Link confused him. If he seemingly didn’t belong to the Kokiri anymore, then where did he call home? Did he even have a home? Talon sighed and began to head out of the room.

“I trust you’ll keep a good eye on him?”

Malon nodded. “I won’t let him try to get up next time.”

Talon snorted. “Try not to hurt him too much. You got some Gerudo blood in you, while he’s a simple Hylian,” Talon glanced at Link, “I think. Give him that milk when he wakes up.”

Malon nodded again and plopped herself in a chair, staring at the strange boy in bed. Talon smiled at her, leaving the room once again, feeling exhausted himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link’s fever was persistent. Talon spent a long time with him to see if he was getting better, but he was not. He wasn’t getting worse though, which Talon supposed was better than nothing. Link stayed in bed most of the time, unable to get out due to the fever and to Malon forcing him to rest. Talon always had to make sure she was gentle with him. He knew she had such a gentle and kind soul, but her Gerudo strength, despite having only a little bit of it, was not to be underestimated. Malon stayed by Link’s side the entire time, only leaving when she had chores to do. She would talk the boy’s ear off when she was with him; talking to him about her chores, her favorite animals, and the songs she wrote. She would occasionally sing to him, and he would always listen. Talon couldn’t tell if he wanted to listen, but considering the small smile on his lips whenever his daughter spoke to him, he assumed that he enjoyed the company. Many times, Talon decided to do Malon’s chores for her so she could spend time with her friend, and eventually, Link started to feel better.

Talon allowed him to walk around the ranch, knowing that being in the same room for days couldn’t feel good for anyone, and Link happily obliged. He always seemed anxious, as if there was something he had to be doing, so being able to at least walk around made him a little more cheery than normal. But as soon as he was able to walk around, he once again tried to leave.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” Talon asked when he caught Link packing up his things, trying to talk him out of it before he was gone. Link didn’t say anything for a moment, a guilty look on his face.

“I–I need to be elsewhere,” he finally said, finishing packing up his few items scattered across the room.

“Already? I know you’re feelin’ better, and exercise is good for you, but you can’t push yourself.”

Link let out a huff. “I’ll be fine. This fever will go away in due time.”

“Yeah, if you take care of yourself,” Talon argued, and Link shot a glare at him.

“Why do you care?” He suddenly snapped. Talon’s eyes widened at the boy’s sudden hostility. He scratched the back of his head and looked away.

“Is it so wrong for me to care about a sick kid?”

Link’s expression softened and he turned away. “How much do you remember?” He asked softly.

“Huh?”

“How much–how much do you remember of me?”

Talon was taken aback at the strange question. Though he’s only seen Link a couple of times last year, he remembered them pretty well now that he spent more time with the kid.

“I remember you woke me up with a cuccoo and told me my daughter was waitin’ for me. Good thing too ‘cause I didn’t mean to fall asleep at the castle of all places. Poor Malon.” Link stayed still as stone so Talon continued, “I remember you came by our ranch and found my special cuccoo. I teased you about marryin’ my daughter and you got all shy ‘bout it.” Talon chuckled at the memory. Link looked away with an embarrassed look on his face so Talon moved onto the next memory. “I remember you and Malon played all day, and played music as loud as you two could. It sorta annoyed me when I was tryin’ to sleep but I ain’t never seen Malon sing with all her heart like that before. So I let it continue.” Talon sighed and racked everything he remembered about Link, but only one more memory remained. “And then I remember you buyin’ Epona. It broke Malon’s heart to part with that horse but she cared about you and knew you would take great care of her. And that’s about all I remember of you.”

Link continued to face away from Talon, staring blankly at the wall. Talon frowned and walked up to him.

“Why are you askin’ this?”

Link sighed and hugged himself. “You just don’t know me like you used to.”

Talon was taken aback again. “Now what in Farore’s name do you mean by that?”

Link opened his mouth but was interrupted by Malon entering the room. She spotted Link’s packed up possessions and frowned.

“You’re leaving already?” She asked as he quickly finished gathering his things. “Are you sure you feel well enough for it?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said softly, looking up at Talon with another guilty expression. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Talon tilted his head. “You didn’t overstay nothin’ boy. It was my pleasure to have you here.”

Link smiled slightly, but he quickly turned away, a sad and distant look in his eye. Talon stroked his chin and squinted at him.

“Where do you call home?”

Link glanced at Talon, then at the floor. “I—um…”

“Do you… have a home?”

Link didn’t react, and he shifted uncomfortably. Talon sighed.

“Oh… Link, if you have nowhere else to go, you can always stay here—“

“No! I-I mean,” Link shrunk away, clutching onto his shirt. “You-you guys have been very kind but I–I don’t want to be a bother anymore.”

“You were anything but a bother! We loved havin’ you here!” Talon reassured, but Link didn’t look convinced

“I-I can’t stay here for free… I—I don’t—“ Link whimpered slightly, pressing himself further against the wall. Talon backed up slightly, realizing he was being too forceful with the boy. He took a deep breath and tried again.

“Ok, if you don’t wanna stay for free, then you don’t have to,” he said softly.

Link finally looked at him, a sad look on his face. “I don’t have any rupees though.”

“Who said anythin’ about money! How old are ya? Eleven? I can't expect an eleven-year-old to be able to pay rent!”

Link stared at him confused. “Then how…?”

“Well, I can always have ya work around the farm, do whatever chores you’re capable of doin’, in return you get a place to stay and food to eat.”

Link stared for a moment, the gears in his mind turning as he thought about Talon’s offer.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Sorry to put pressure on you,” Talon quickly added, realizing he was still being forceful. “But if you want, we’d love to have you.”

Link was silent for a long time, swaying slightly as Talon and Malon watched him. He finally let out a sigh and looked up at Talon.

“Can I…. Think about it?”

Talon was relieved slightly and nodded. “Of course you can, just know that wherever you go, you’ll always have a place to stay in Lon Lon Ranch.”

Link gave a more genuine smile at him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Talon escorted Link to the entrance with Malon in tow, the two Lon’s chatting about mundane things with Link listening silently. When they reached the entrance, Talon turned to his daughter and nodded.

“Malon, could you get his horse for him?”

“Of course, daddy!”

Talon watched as his daughter ran to where the horses were, then he glanced at Link who still had an unsure look on his face.

“Link?”

Link pursed his lips. “I… I wish there was a way I could repay you for this…”

“Oh, it was on the house,” Talon said, waving his hand. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

Link smiled, his hands clumped up on his chest. “You don’t know how much this means to me… I… thank you…”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. And my offer will always be here for you, or… if you ever wanna visit,” Talon shrugged, “you’re free to visit as well if you don’t wanna stay.”

Link’s face twisted slightly, and he shyly leaned into Talon, which surprised him. He was always so distant from the others, but he was almost hugging the old farmer. Talon wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back gently, only pulling away when Malon returned with Epona. Link quickly hopped on the horse, discreetly wiped his eye, and he gave the two a nod.

“I guess I’ll… see you around?” He said, and Talon nodded.

“Of course, you be safe out there boy!” Talon said, waving him goodbye.

“Yeah! Come visit! I want to sing with you again!” Malon exclaimed, waving enthusiastically at him. Link grinned at her and nodded at the two. Then he clicked his tongue and ran off on his horse, heading to Din knows where. Talon watched sadly as he disappeared into the field, almost wishing there was more he could do for him. It was strange how much the boy had changed since he first met him. Link was a very playful and hyper boy when they first met him, matching Malon’s hyper energy. But now, he was jaded and serious, almost as if he was an adult trapped in a child’s body. Talon didn’t want to think about what he went through in the past year to get to that point, but he hoped that now Link knew that he didn’t have to face any of it alone, and that he had people to turn to.

He just had to wait for him to reach out.

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Love is like the rose thorn

𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬𝔫’𝔱 𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢 ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲, ℑ’𝔪 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶

Description: The last thing Y/N expected after quite literally falling down the rabbit hole was to wake up in a world where dragons and knights exist. Throw in an incorrigible but undeniably handsome boy called Benjicot Blackwood who won't stop following Y/N around and we have ourselves a regular ol' fairytale.

Disclaimer: Victoria here to interrupt my regularly scheduled Aeron Bracken content with a Benjicot oneshot. This doesn't have any connection with Elizabeth's masterpiece The Blackwood Knight but is an attempt to fulfill a request from @ithilwen-blackwood for a modern reader finding themselves in Westeros. I'm sorry it doesn't match the request exactly as the reader isn't a dragon rider in this.

Loosely based on Beauty & The Beast. There's now a companion Cinderella retelling for Aeron Bracken called Star Crossed

Warnings: swearing, threat of violence, female reader, world jumping reader, Frenemies to lovers vibes, lengthy (I got carried away whoops), Beauty & The Beast vibes.

Y/N woke with a jolt. Dazed, her eyes frantically tried to take in her surroundings. She was disturbed to find she was not in her own bed, but lying on the cold hard ground with ferns lightly tickling her face. She seemed to have fallen asleep in the middle of nowhere, not recognising any land marks, just the vast expanse of green fields, rocky paths and off in the distance the treeline of nearby woodland. She remembered she'd been hiking and come across a strange arch covered in interweaving vines and blood red roses so dark they were almost black. She had felt inexplicably drawn to the arch that seemed to crackle with magic. But she knew that was ridiculous, there was no such thing. And yet she found herself walking towards it as if pulled by some invisible force until she stepped through it...and was met with darkness.

Y/N was pulled back to the present by an intense feeling of panic. None of this made any sense. Nonetheless her survival instincts had kicked in and she knew she couldn't just linger out in the open, she had to find help. So she started forward, opting to avoid the eery treeline of the woods, hoping that she'd eventually come across some semblance of civilisation, even better someone who could help her make sense of what had happened to her.

Y/N felt like she'd been walking for hours, perhaps she had, her bones wearied with exertion. A shining ray of hope came in the form of a beautiful man sat atop a precarious pile of stones. He struck a princely figure, dressed in clothes that looked straight out of a medieval fair, a fake sword hanging from a belt at his hips. His soft brown hair, lanky limbs, and dimples gave him a boyish charm. But his broad shoulders were suggestive of a strong build and the small scar on his nose gave her the impression he'd once broken it, perhaps in a fight. Eyes suddenly snapping to hers, his features rearranged themselves into a cocky smirk and she suddenly felt quite strongly that the man in front of her was quietly dangerous.

Unfolding himself from his slouched position, almost that of a beleaguered sentry, he jauntily approached her. Although he did stay at a respectful distance of a few paces. "Good day my lady, I have not seen you around these parts before. And I admit I do not recognise the colours of your house. From where do you hail?" Y/N found herself scoffing at his roguish tone and bizarre speech pattern. "From where do I hail? Are you heading to an expo or something. What's with the cosplay and fake sword?" The man's handsome features pulled into a slight frown of confusion. It lasted a mere moment before his eyes were oncemore alight with a mischievous glimmer that Y/N found equal parts frightening and exciting.

"Do you jest my lady? I bear the sigil and colours of House Blackwood as is my prerogrative as Lord of Raventree Hall." He bowed his head to her, a hand to his heart. Y/n had to admire his commitment to his costume but it was starting to grate on her nerves that he seemed to talk in riddles when she was desperate for answers. "Right, sure you are. Could you please point me in the direction of the nearest town?" Y/n asked awkwardly, hoping to try her luck with someone not dressed like a knight.  "You do not know where you are my lady?"

"Not exactly. Not at all if I'm being honest. I sort of just walked through an arch and woke up in a field and here I am. Where exactly is here?" The man's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Y/N detected a trace of concern as his eyes appeared to soften. "You tell a strange tale my lady, and I should be pleased to assist you in any way I can. We are in the heart of the Riverlands, in Blackwood land." Y/N felt a fresh surge of panic rise up within her chest as she struggled to understand any of the unfamiliar words the man in front of her had just laced together. Had she somehow time travelled and that was the cause of their mutual confusion? Trying to maintain a semblance of calm she took a deepth breath through her nose. "Can you tell me what the year is?"

The man's lips turned up in an amused smile. "This close to the borders of Bracken land it depends who you ask. In the eyes of House Blackwood it is the first year of the reign of the true Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the 129th year after Aegon the conqueror's conquest." Y/N let out a high pitched squeek, the panic that had settled uncomfortably in her stomach finally bubbling up to breaking point as she began to realise she may be farther from home than she'd first realised. The young man seemed positively alarmed at her outburst, his eyes widening as she started taking small steps away from him all the while trying to regulate her frantic breathing. His brow furrowing, he started to close the small distance between them, a placating hand outstretched as if he expected her to run from him.

"My lady, I can see that you are distressed. If I have done or said something to alarm you, I assure you it was not my intention." Y/N told herself to snap out of it. This was likely all some big misunderstanding. That or the stricken looking man in front of her was toying with her. The idea that he would do such a thing when she was so clearly lost, confused, and vulnerable incensed her. Glaring at him she wordlessly turned on her heels to walk away from him at break neck speed. Hearing footsteps she glanced behind her to see him following at a distance. "Are you following me?" "Yes" He said simply as if it was perfectly obvious that he should. "Brazen bastard" she mumbled, unfortunately not low enough for him to miss. A look of surprise as he registered her insult quickly shifted to one of bemusement before Y/N could even begin to worry about him reacting badly. "That may be, but I'd rather not see you walk into a den of savages. And that is the direction you're going in."

Y/n was quite frankly sick of his cryptic messages at this point. Stopping in her tracks to face him, the young man immediately halted, mirroring her movements. She fixed him with a stern glare. "I don't know what you're playing at but it isn't funny. I have no idea what you're talking about. And I'm not a lady so you can drop the act."

Turning so quickly she was sure her hair must have whipped him in the face she continued on the path she'd chosen. If he wanted to drop mysterious messages of foreboding without telling her anything concrete she'd just as well ignore him. That turned out to be difficult as he resumed following her wordlessly. Y/N broke the silence a while later. "Why are you still following me? I thought you said I was going the wrong way. Headed towards savages as you put it?" Seemingly delighted that she'd finally looked at him and was willingly speaking to him he shot her a dazzling smile that almost softened her resolve to be irritated with him. "To protect you of course. I am a knight and you are a lady in distress. The course you set is a dangerous one but if you choose to walk it then I shall walk it with you." His smile did not match the promise of life-threatening danger he was suggesting.

"I can take care of myself and since I can't understand half of what you're saying I'm not sure I really believe you." His smile growing wider, the young man took a couple of steps towards Y/N to close the distance between between them before gently taking her hand and planting a kiss to her knuckles. "I don't doubt it fair lady, you seem seem have a will of steel but I'd rather not risk your safety if its all the same to you." Momentarily at a loss for words at his actions, Y/N quickly quashed the traitorous fluttering of her heart and cleared her throat as she pulled her hands from his and attempted to put him down gently. "That's quite enough of that. Look, I appreciate your concern... " she stopped realising she didn't know his name and looked up at him questioning. "Benjicot Blackwood. Might I Iearn the name of the fair lady in return?" Ignoring his question, Y/N went on "but there's really no need to worry. I'll be just fine on my own."

Once again Y/N turned from him and continued to walk towards whatever mythical danger the man had portended. When she didn't hear his footfalls following her immediately a smile of self-satisfaction ghosted onto her face before she realised she was almost dissapointed. That was until she heard them at a farther distance this time. Glancing behind her but this time not stopping she shouted back to him. "Are you still following me" He had to shout too for her to hear him though there was mirth in his tone "yes my lady, you still seem dead set on barrelling head first into danger. And you have not yet given me your name" he responded playfully. Y/N groaned audibly "Why can't you go bother some other poor girl and leave me alone?" Y/N fumed to hear him laugh. "Because then, fair one, I might actually have to bother, as you say, ladies who like my company. And where would be the fun in that when I have you to shout at me?"

Y/n gaped at him in disbelief, this man could not be serious. Shaking her head at him, she decided to just go back to ignoring him. Perhaps he'd get bored of following her or, if she was really lucky, fall into a ditch. They walked a little while longer before an arm suddenly shot out around her waist, the young man having hastened his steps to step in front of her. "A step further and we're in Bracken territory. I beseech you to turn back with me. I will take you to my halls and we can discuss your predicament further." Y/N felt a growing sense of fear at Benjicot's seriousness.

Perhaps she'd been too quick to write his warnings off. No sooner had she thought this than she heard approaching footsteps and spotted four other men dressed just like him, except for the golden colour of their cloaks where his was a deep red. She didn't like the angry looks on their faces and was ashamed to find herself cowering slightly. Taking in her fright the young man shot around and positioned himself more fully in front of her, arm lightly outstretched behind him as if to shield her.

"Get back from the border Blackwood, you're in breech of the assize."

"Fuck the assize. This is Blackwood land and you know it." Y/N didn't have a clue what the two men were arguing about as insults flew back and forth, but her ears perked up as the man closest to her red knight levied the next one at her. "Take her with you. Is she fucking stupid, or is she so bold to think she can waltz around wherever she likes? Typical Blackwood bitch." The Lord of Raventree as he'd called himself earlier snarled out a reply, stepping forward to shove the golden Knight harshly in the chest. "You craven bastard. You dare insult a lady under my protection?" Y/N should have been panicking at the impending threat of violence, but her anger at the man's insults, so blatantly laced with misogyny, rose up so fiercely that she heard her own voice among the din before she could stop it. "Don't you dare call me a bitch. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? I don't know anything about an assize or why you're so obsessed with rocks and not crossing them but you can't just go around calling people names. Have some respect."

Seemingly stunned into silence, perhaps not expecting her to challenge him so brazenly, the golden Knight just stared at her in stony silence for a few moments before ignoring her entirely and turning back to her red knight. "Control your woman Blackwood." Through gritted teeth, Benjicot bit back "Speak another word about the lady and there will be violence." The golden Knight drew his sword, pointing directly at her red knight's chest. Ok, so not a fake sword then. Surprising her by laughing tauntingly, Benjicot walked right up to the tip of the sword. "You wouldn't dare." Y/N told herself she shouldn't find his passionate defence of her attractive, but in the current circumstances she felt she could be forgiven for being irrational. "Come on, just leave it" one of the other golden knights piped up. After a tense few moments the golden cloaked man lowered his sword and and stalked away, followed by his friends.

Shoulders tense, her defender did not turn his back to the knights until they were out of sight before turning around to look at her, eyes immediately softening from the aggressive glare he'd just been fronting. "Are you alright my lady? I had hoped to avoid such an interaction." Y/N flip flopped between finding his evident concern sweet and being irritated that he seemed to think this was her fault for not listening to him. "You think I'm to blame then? You're the one who kept dropping veiled hints about my impending doom and refusing to clarify what you meant!" Y/N could not for the life of her understand why the infuriating man in front of her was smiling at her. "Why are you smiling at me? Do you enjoy fighting with me?" "You mistake me my lady. I am merely gratified to know that you are well enough to shout at me. I was concerned that you would be shaken and frightened."

When Y/N didn't respond, mouth opening and closing trying to find a response, Benjicot assumed that she must be in some state of shock after all. "Please allow me to take you to Raventree. It would go against my conscience to leave a lady wandering about the riverlands alone when you seem so confused." With that he held his arm out for her to take, an antiquated gesture that seemed to confirm to Y/N she was really not in kansas anymore. Weighing her options, she considered that Benjicot Blackwood had teased her and followed her, but he had not harmed her and had in fact protected her when he could have walked away. Making her decision, she lightly placed her arm on his. "My name is Y/N." Benjicot grinned at her as if she had given him a star rather than her name, placing his other hand atop hers as it rested on his arm and began directing them in the opposite direction "a beautiful name for a beautiful lady." Blushing fiercely with embarrassment, Y/N squeeked out a "Thank you."

Benjicot must have been chasing Y/N around the Riverlands for quite some time, as it took them at least an hour to reach the impressive fortress he called Raventree Hall.

Once she'd gotten over the initial shock of realising she had in fact jumped from her world into another, Y/N actually found herself settling in to life in Westeros. It had taken some convincing for Benjicot to believe her story and stop assuming she was mildly insane, but he had all the while insisted she stay with him in Raventree Hall, gifting her with her own room and beautiful gowns in the colours of House Blackwood. She'd only had her hiking gear on when she was unceremoniously plucked from her world into his, and she sought to avoid similar looks of curiosity to the one he'd shot her when they first met. Y/N grew to love Raventree and the people who lived there.

Benjicot had practically forced his friendship open her and as incorrigible and cocky as he could be, encouraging a healthy back and forth banter between them at all times, she could not be anything but grateful for it. Each day he would show her something new, always hoping to amuse her, whether it be a new room to explore in his ancestral halls, a book he thought she might like, or the rose garden tucked away in the grounds, which had become her favourite haunt.

The roses reminded Y/N of Beauty and the Beast, her favourite fairytale from back home which Benjicot had made her tell at least a hundred times, listening just as attentively, a hand cupping his chin and eyes never leaving hers each time. She supposed that her own situation did somewhat resemble her favourite tale, down to her very own castle and beast. Benjicot had always been a gentleman with her, but she had heard the stories of Bloody Ben whispered by his servants and seen first hand his willingness to resort to violence to protect her when they first met.

More often than not it was Benjicot, or Benji as he seemed to insist only she call him, who came to her, always seeking out her opinions. But today it was Y/N seeking him out. She'd been growing more and more homesick of late and wanted to be with the one person she felt could truly understand, eventually finding him in the armoury, wielding his sword in different formations. Hoping to sneak up on him, and having taken fencing lessons herself back in her own world, she quietly tiptoed over to the swords. Grabbing the lightest one she could she walked soundlessly back over to him before he suddenly turned and clashed his sword against hers. "Sorry Y/N but you should know that I'd recognise your footfalls anywhere and you're not as quiet as you think."

"Rude" she huffed back, sliding her sword down his and shoving him away from her. He grinned at the challenge. "You didn't mention you'd handled a sword before." "Only a little."

He parried a fresh blow from her, easily blocking the next. 

"I can see that" He teased, earning a snarl from her though it did not have any true aggression behind it. He continued to block her blows, but seemed reluctant to attack and she used this reticence against him to lunge and place her sword close enough to his neck to refute any delusions he had about her lack of skill. But he was prepared for this and swung his sword upwards to block her again, before taking hold of her waist and spinning her around, her back hitting his chest. His sword hand wove around around her shoulders, as he kept the blade at a distance from her body, while Benji gently trailed his other hand down the side of her bodice, his touch feather light and searing all at once. He leant down to whisper in her ear "You left yourself open here when you lunged."

Y/N had always found Benjicot attractive, even when he teased and irritated her, but she'd tried to quash any romantic feelings for him so as not to ruin their friendship. But his closeness to her now, her body pressed against his, was intoxicating and she struggled to think coherently. Suddenly releasing her, Benjicot smiled widely and bowed. "I shall see you later my lady, I am off to attend to my duties." Throwing his sword carelessly over his shoulder, he turned and exited the armoury, leaving Y/N to stew over the unwelcome feelings their impromptu sword fight had brought to the fore.

Later that night, Y/n could not help the wave of sadness that threatened to crush her under the weight of it from sending her into a spiral of homesickness. Soft sniffles and sobs echoed about the room as she tried to square the new life she now loved with her feelings of guilt over leaving her family behind. The rattling of her bedroom door knob sent her flying from her bed in alarm as she quickly grabbed a small blade form the wooden desk and hurried to conceal herself behind the door. As the intruder entered she wildly swung around to jab the point of her dagger into their ribcage. The intruder stiffened and she looked up to se that it was just Benji, whose brow was quirked up in amusement. How could he act so nonchalant about her nearly spearing him like a fish?

"What's so funny? I nearly gutted you!"

"With a letter opener?" She looked down to find that what she'd thought was a dagger was indeed just a letter opener, not likely to do much damage. She forced out a laugh that ended up sounding much more like a sob, and Benji's face immediately fell once he took in her tearstained appearance fully. Y/N couldn't bear his look of concern, certain it would just make her cry harder and so she broke the silence. "What brings you to my room at this time of night anyway to give me the opportunity to spear you in the first place?" She'd hoped to diffuse the tension and make him laugh but his expression remained just as serious, eyes filled with worry. "I heard you crying."

"Oh." He had come to check that she was OK. His gentle concern for her sent forth a fresh wave of tears and when Benji opened his arms to her she immediately fell into them, her forehead hitting his chest as his hand came up to stroke her hair in a comforting gesture. "What ails you my lady. Whatever you need I will see it done."

His kindness only made her crying worse and he kissed her sweetly on the crown of her head, rubbing soothing circles along her spine. "I miss my family and my home." Benji stiffened as if he were expecting a blow but he let her continue. "And mostly I feel guilty that I'm not sure I even want to go home. Truthfully I love Raventree and your friendship has meant everything to me."

Benji took hold of Y/N's elbows and lightly pushed her away from his chest so he could look into her eyes. "It gladdens my heart to hear that you feel this way about my home. I should like you to consider it your home too. You will always  have a place here with me." Kissing her forehead tenderly, he held Y/N's head against his heart again as if she were made of glass or something truly precious to him he was scared to break. Little did she know how true this was.

Weeks later, Y/N found that her homesickness had begun to dissipate to a dull ache. But her feelings for Benji had grown and spread like the vines of the rose bushes she loved so much, wild and uncontainable. It was difficult to even be in his presence without wanting him to touch her and hold her as he had the night he'd found her crying.

Sitting with her in what he'd come to refer to as her rose garden, he kept shooting furtive glances at her as she read from a tome on his house history. "Why are you staring at me?" "I'm not?" "Try that again without the question mark"

Benjicot surprised her, shifting in his spot next to her to turn to her fully, their knees touching, before taking both of her hands in his. "I have not been able to look away from you for more than a few moments ever since I first laid eyes on you. I must admit that I am desperately in love with you and wondered if, by some chance of fate, you might feel the same way?"

Y/N's jaw fell open in shock. " You love me?"

He squeezed her hands "most ardently."

Her mind spinning, she threw caution to the wind and flung her arms around Benji's shoulders to kiss him. He reacted instantly, pulling her as close towards him as possible until she was in his lap, his hands grasping at her hips to pull her closer still as if he couldn't believe she was real.

Breaking the kiss for oxygen, Benji began to trail a line of kisses down Y/N's neck, leaving her breathless, one hand pressing her back closer to him. "I wish you to be my wife, to become the Lady of Raventree Hall and House Blackwood."

Butterflies erupted in her stomach.

"Future Lady Blackwood am I?"

"Should you permit it, I will protect you, cherish you, and love you for the remainder of my days or for as long as you will allow. I humbly offer myself to you as your husband, with all the love I possess for you."

"And what if I disagree with you and challenge you. What if we argue constantly?"

"We do not argue my love, you scold me and I listen" He shot back with a playful grin.

"And if I decide to change all the tapestries pink?"

Benji sighed, tilting his head to her eye level so she could read the sincerity in his eyes.

"I want all of you, including your thoughts and opinions. They're what made me fall in love with you. I want you to share them with me even if they challenge mine, especially then, even when I hold you in my arms. As to the tapestries, I'm rather partial to my house colours but I would try to bear the change if it would please you."

Y/N giggled at that before planting a tender kiss to his lips. "Then I consent to be be your wife and Lady. You can't take it back though. You're stuck with me now."

Benji pressed their foreheads together, cupping the sides of her face to brush her lips with his. "And how grateful I am for it." He spoke against them before pressing his lips to hers in a kiss he hoped expressed his undying devotion to his lady.

A face I'd go to war for. The title is based on the line 'love is like the wild rose-briar' from an Emily Bronte poem I love called Love and Friendship.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #38

Harbringer

Imagine dis…

I’ve always wondered why despite Gotham being old as time only has a single nursery rhyme. We all know that nursery rhymes have a connection to real-life events no matter how gruesome the truth behind each upbeat tone. Yet in DC particularly in Gotham, there was only one nursery rhyme that kept being mentioned, and that one is the only thing that turned out to be true aka the Talons.

Why aren't there more legends? Or myths in the human world? DC is a breeding ground of legends and myths turning out to be true…

…

A thick fog covers the streets of Gotham, draping every street, alley, and rooftop with only shadows and the occasional shrieks of stray animals to be heard. The Talons may have their nursery rhyme that supposedly strikes fear in the hearts of Gothamites but also serves as a silent warning that hides behind such an innocent rhyme of a child.

However, despite the Talon’s rhyme being sparsely hummed, it is an even more ancient and more forgotten rhyme that only the older and elderly still remember the bits and pieces of such rhyme.

"Beware the headless rider at night,

In shadows deep, he brings his blight.

Green mist flows where his head should lie,

One look, and then you die."

The elderly used to think that it was Gotham’s version of a Dullahan that came from an ancient Celtic god that spread its influence in Gotham.  Nevertheless, it was repeated in hush whispers as if no one wanted to speak loudly, to avoid said gaze. As it was not a man nor any creature they had seen, if you have the gaze of it then you only have mere moments to pray to whatever god you believe in for salvation before its scythe drops down on you like a guillotine.

…

One foggy night, a Joker card slid slowly on the sidewalk outside an abandoned Gotham warehouse, and a loud, piercing laugh from within disturbed the eerie calm. The Joker cherished his next plot, his next punchline to the bats, until the sound of hooves broke through his cackles.

And through through the thick fog, he appeared.

The single nursery rhyme that the elderly remember only bits and pieces of its lyrics, whose reputation was as old as Gotham itself. Mounted on a black stallion with eyes that burned like molten embers, he was a nightmare made of darkness. In one hand, he held a scythe, the blade a slender, vicious arc of gleaming green metal. His other arm clutched his head—a pale and dead face with black hair and a pair of blue eyes that smoldered with icy, unwavering malice, linked to his neck by a moving strand of green smoke.

The Joker, perhaps the only man insane enough not to flee in the face of this nightmare, grinned even wider.

He cackled and laughed like the madman he is and exclaimed if he was one of the bat's new brood, or maybe a meta that had a grudge against him, and so on. Ignoring the shiver that crept behind his mind, and the slight twitch in his ever-confident smile that he usually uses to bare his teeth in bold defiance.

A shadow swept over the cracked glass, and he noticed it. That cold, lifeless head in the rider's grasp, stared at him with eyes that beheld every twisted corner of his psyche. The green mist filled the room, wrapping around Joker's ankles and pressing against his chest, chilly as the nothingness.

His scythe rose in a slow, methodical arc, cutting through the mist as if it were silk. Joker's grin vanished as an icy weight fell to his bones. His heart stopped, a chilly, unnatural stillness seizing him as if the air around him had frozen. The green mist tightened, coiling around his neck, filling his lungs and pulling the last wisps of air from his lips.

He swung his scythe and sliced through the darkness in a smooth, flowing stroke. And at that final, fleeting second, Joker saw his reflection in the rider's eyes, twisted and broken, captured in a flash of green.

Then quiet.

When the fog slowly disappeared, the Joker lay sprawled on the ground, his lifeless eyes staring at the darkness, as his infamous smile that used to be a symbol of fear in Gotham now has that uncertainly or some call it fear, forever etched on his face.

He rode away, going back into Gotham's shadowy streets. Somewhere ahead, his next prey waited, blissfully oblivious to the approaching judgment.

Following his departure, the nursery rhyme floated back into the night, scaring the elders who were blissfully sleeping, and woke up in alert as if they were back within their parent’s embrace after being scared of the old rhymes that their parents had just whispered to them in the dead of night.

…

Danny used to be a protector on both sides of his ghostly and humanity side. As years pass by, he the same faces of both the GIW and his parents committing the same atrocities, escaping justice time and again. Each innocent ghostly life and even the ghostly animals and blobs became a haunting reminder of the limits of mercy.

When the Observants summoned him, they gave him two options: remain powerless as innocent souls were lost or take on a new purpose—one that only someone with a heart as broken as his own could bear. They dubbed him the Harbringer, the one who would see that the irredeemable face the consequences of their brutality, that day he became both the judge and executioner of both realms. Though his duty didn’t stop between the two realms, He traveled in between dimensions using the countless doors in the Infinite Realms as a way to fulfill his duties.

He reluctantly accepted, and with it came the curse: he would no longer feel warmth or joy from those he once loved. His sole companion would be the ghostly steed that delivers him to his next destination and the faint echoes of a nursery rhyme that accompanied him in each timeline and in between worlds.

Now, he hovered over countless worlds, as a headless specter burdened by a task no one else could bear—a duty that he carried alone, all in the hope that one day, he could finally regain the peace he had long lost.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: I will be a bit busy so let me just post this early.

[training4theapocalypse]

A Royal Misunderstanding (Prince Friedrich x f!Reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7k

Warnings / Tags: SMUT, virgin Prince Friedrich and experienced(ish) reader, kinda switchy Prince F, unprotected sex (for the plot).

Summary: He's looking for the future Princess Consort. You're looking for a life out of the spotlight. It'd never work.

A/N: K and an E and a T and a T, E and an R and an ING. T and an O and a W, N. Kettering Town. F.C. Also thank you to my regency queens @stealsteels and @shinytalent for reading this 👑

Masterlist

There’s an unnecessary knock on the open stable door as you move to untack your mare. She needs a thorough brush after the ride you had today.

“You are the stable hand?” inquires a young man’s voice.

You whirl around, ready to deliver a sharp retort, but hesitate when you see his earnest, slightly incredulous expression. You’ve never encountered him before, you’re sure of it. His handsome face, tuft of blonde hair and wide-eyed demeanour would certainly have been memorable.

“I was told I would be meeting the stable hand here,” he continues, still uncertain. “To collect a horse.”

An accent. Foreign. He must be part of Prince Friedrich’s contingent, newly arrived from the Kingdom of Prussia this morning. And he must be exceedingly green to mistake you for a stable hand. Despite your riding breeches being muddied from your ride, any discerning footman would recognise that the fine tailoring is not typical of a servant's attire. Even one in the employ of the Crown. His own attire, however, is old-fashioned and ill-fitting - it bears all the marks of a hand-me-down from another household servant or perhaps an older family member.

You purse your lips to stifle a smile. The opportunity to toy with one of the charmingly naive lackeys from the Prussian delegation sparks your mischievous side. Besides, he’ll need to toughen up if he’s to survive in London. “Don’t they permit women to become stable hands in Prussia?”

He blinks. “No.”

“And this horse is for Prince Friedrich?”

“Yes.” He raises his eyebrows, as though it should be self-evident why he’s here. As if everyone should recognise Prince Friedrich’s footman. The man pulls his shoulder back and there’s a subtle hint of authority in his stance. You’re unsure if it’s the language barrier or his presumption, but his curt answers irk you.

“Very well, then,” you say, gently guiding your horse towards him. “This is Artemis. She’s the finest in the stable.”

“This is your finest horse?” He chuckles heartily and your mouth becomes a thin line and your nostrils flare. 

“Perhaps His Royal Highness would prefer a pony?”

He straightens, a haughty glint in his eye. “It’s covered in filth.”

“My lady is a keen rider and has already been out this morning. But if Prince Freidrich can’t handle a little dirt -”

“Of course, I can manage.”

You arch an eyebrow, his tone further irritating you. “If you say so,” you reply, handing him the reins.

As he mounts Artemis, you can’t help but decide to give him a parting gift. You give her a firm slap on her hindquarters. Artemis bolts forward, sending the young man bouncing precariously in the saddle. You watch with satisfaction as he disappears down the path, his shouts of alarm fading into the distance. 

Perhaps now he’ll think twice before assuming someone is a servant.

With a contented smile, you leave the stables, already brimming with excitement at the thought of telling your ladies-in-waiting about your encounter. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As far as you’re concerned, there isn’t enough wide open space in London. Far too many locked doors and whispered secrets. Or worse. Written down secrets. Specifically, the sort published by Lady Whistledown. You’d much rather be at home than endure another visit to the capital but when Queen Charlotte invited you to stay at her residence for the duration of the social season, you could hardly refuse. Not when Her Majesty and your late father, the Duke of Kettering, were such dear friends.

You suspect this invitation to spend the season at the palace might be the Queen’s ultimate attempt to honour your father’s memory. It was expected that you’d be desperate to find a husband after he passed. On paper, it should have been simple enough - your inheritance is decent enough to tempt a husband.

But finding a suitor hasn’t been easy. You’re not asking for much. You don’t want titles or wealth. Just a husband who’d be content to let you spend the day out riding rather than attending social engagements. Events like this one are your idea of hell on earth. Although it wasn’t as bad as yesterday when you had to present yourself to the Queen as one of the eligible misses of the season. 

As you stepped into the centre of the room, your palms turned cold and you could feel your stomach turning inside out as you waited for the Queen to give her verdict. There’s an old saying: the brighter a lady shines, the faster she may burn. And you’d rather not find yourself turned to ash at the hands of the ton. 

You exhaled an audible sigh of relief when Her Majesty remained seated and deigned to give you a small nod of approval. Neither the diamond nor the disgrace of the season and you’re glad of it - it means fewer eyes on you. But even that short burst in the relatively dim limelight made you want to flee from the room and vomit. You put yourself through your paces in the saddle this morning just to shake off the lingering feeling of dread.

You should be grateful that the Queen did not wave you away dismissively. This is your second social season after all and your value is quickly plummeting. You just need a husband who is content to stay out of the spotlight. And is resigned to the fact that you’ll probably prefer your horse’s company to theirs. 

If only you really were a stable hand instead of the late Duke of Kettering’s daughter.

As you mingle in Queen Charlotte’s banquet hall amongst other guests, waiting upon the arrival of Prince Freidrich, you feel a twinge of guilt about your encounter with his footman this morning. Perhaps after this welcome dinner, you’ll discreetly invite him to meet you in the stables as a gesture of apology.

The footman was handsome, after all, despite the blonde whiskers he must have grown in an attempt to appear more mature. You wouldn’t mind ruffling his perfectly coiffed hair before letting him bend you over the stable door.

Your companion jolts you from your daydream by squeezing your arm with her silk glove excitedly. You turn and smooth the front of your gown as Queen Charlotte and her nephew Prince Friedrich’s arrival is announced. 

The doors open and it takes every ounce of your self-control to maintain a dignified composure as Queen Charlotte walks in, arm-in-arm with Prince Friedrich’s footman.

Or the man who you thought was Prince Friedrich’s footman.

Damn.

Of course, you sent Prince Friedrich himself chasing across the palace grounds on the back of your startled mare.

While your face retains a dignified composure, you can’t do anything about the prickle of embarrassment flushing your chest. It’s only a matter of time before the Queen introduces Prince Freidrich to you and you will need to eat copious amounts of humble pie, slathered with grovelling apologies and dusted off with begging for forgiveness.

There’s no avoiding it. Even though tonight’s dinner isn’t an official event of the season - just a small dinner for the fifty or so palace guests and members of the Royal Family, Prince Friedrich is still introduced to every eligible woman in the room. Including you. 

Queen Charlotte, eventually steers him towards you. “Allow me to present my nephew, Prince Friedrich of Prussia.”

You curtsy and allow him to greet your gloved hand with a kiss but your stomach twists in anticipation, waiting for him to admonish you in front of the Queen.

“Lady Kettering, your gown - it is exquisite,” he says, in the usual formality. “And I hope your ride this morning was more pleasant than mine.”

You take a breath to compose your apology but you’re saved from the necessity.

“Yes, the Prince had a simply awful time this morning. First, his footman forgets to pack his riding wear so he has to borrow some from the Viscount of Paisley. And then a common girl posing as a stable hand gave Prince Friedrich your horse and sent him galloping across the plain.”

“I see,” you say cautiously but the corners of Prince Freidrich’s mouth twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. You ask, “And is my horse alright?”

Queen Charlotte laughs at this. “I should have known that you would be more concerned about your mount than the Prince of Prussia.”

You smile. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It’s only that I’m confident a duplicitous stable girl was no match for His Royal Highness.”

“Your mare was returned safely,” smiles Prince Friedrich, a roguish glint in his eye.

Prince Friedrich bows and Queen Charlotte bustles him away onto the next group of eager girls. 

As you watch him greet the next group you wonder: why is the Prince of Prussia making excuses for you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the grand dining room, you search for your place setting at the far end of the table beside the other noble families from minor houses to no avail. They’ve missed me, you think in horror as you look around at the filled seats but one of your friends nudges you and nods at the empty seat next to Prince Friedrich. 

There must be some mistake. 

But when you glance at the Prince, still standing behind his chair expectantly at the middle of the table, he catches your eye and places a hand on the empty seat. 

Barely daring to breathe, you wonder if this is his way of getting back at you for the events of this morning. Perhaps he arranged for your table setting to go missing and you’ll be publicly humiliated when you dare to assume the seat next to him would be for you. 

You walk for what feels like a very long time to the other side of the table, feeling eyes on you as every step is like your shoes are made of lead. You do your best not to clench your fists as your face grows hot in anticipation of being embarrassed in front of everyone. 

Dipping your head, you refuse to look at Prince Friedrich and instead discreetly look at the place cards as you pass. The titles become increasingly grand as you approach the centre of the table until you reach the grandest of them all.

Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte.

His Royal Highness, Prince Friedrich.

Then you see your name. Etched in gold on eggshell paper. At the place setting beside Prince Friedrich’s.

You blink, feeling relief course through you. You’ve never sat this close to the Queen before. The centre of the table was reserved for distinguished guests like, well, Prince Friedrich.

“Lady Kettering, I hope you don’t mind me stealing you away from your usual dinner companions,” says Prince Friedrich, looking at your friends staring wide-eyed at you from the other end of the table.

“It’s my pleasure, Your Highness,” you say, giving them a sharp look. As the servers remove the cloches from the banquet before you, conversation erupts around the table, giving you the chance to swallow your pride. “And I do apologise for this morning,” you add quietly. “I had mistakenly assumed you were Prince Friedrich’s footman.”

“A footman?” He grins, and tilts his head, picturing himself as a footman before adding. “I too would like to apologise. I should never have assumed a beautiful woman such as yourself was a stable hand,” he says. 

“When did you come to the realisation that I wasn’t?”

“I knew your horse’s name. When I asked who owned her, I was told it was a lady who was as wild as the horses she keeps.” Your mouth twists into a reluctant smile. “Is that true?” he asks, his green eyes twinkling with interest.

“Oh no,” you smile, sipping your freshly poured wine, aware of his eyes following your every movement. “My horses are very well-behaved.”

He laughs. It’s a pretty laugh. “Can I assume that means you are looking forward to the season beginning?” He gives you a wry smile. His eyes are alight with enthusiasm as he waits for you to share in his excitement for the beginning of the social season. But there’s something else in his gaze, something more intimate.

You must put an end to this before he gets the wrong idea and you’re made a spectacle of. Prince Friedrich will be the most sought-after man of the season and you don’t want the attention that accompanies competing for his affections - to be thrust into the spotlight and have Lady Whistledown write about you would be more attention than you could bear. 

You glance around to see if anyone is listening before lowering your voice. “Your Highness - may I speak candidly?”

“Nothing would please me more,” he says sincerely, his tone softening.

“Why did you arrange for me to sit here?”

Prince Friedrich looks taken aback. “Well… after this morning, I knew I had to find out more about you.”

You nod sadly. This is what you were afraid of but you had expected it nonetheless.

“This is my second - and hopefully last - season. You see, I’m not used to being in the public eye and I find the social season to be entirely mortifying.”

“I see…” says Prince Friedrich slowly.

“You Highness, please don’t mistake me. I’m honoured to be in your presence but -”

“Lady Kettering -” Prince Friedrich lowers his voice. “You told me you would speak candidly. Please disperse with the airs and graces.”

You push your food around on your plate. It’s risky to speak so plainly to aristocracy. Their fragile egos normally demand a guarded formality. “I am sorry but the idea of competing with other women to become the Princess Consort of Prussia is more publicity than I can handle. I need to find a husband quickly. A marriage of convenience.”

“Convenience…” He nods thoughtfully. “I understand. A marriage to me would certainly draw attention.”

He’s not offended. Thank god. “Exactly, Your Highness. Being in the public eye. The scrutiny. It would be unbearable.”

“It is a pity,” he says quietly. “Because I’m sure a mutually convenient marriage would have its benefits.”

Mutually convenient? Your own inheritance pales in comparison to the riches that Prince Friedrich is heir to. What would he gain from marrying you?

You look up from your plate to see that he’s brazenly smirking at you. 

Oh. 

It’s undeniable this time. He’s flirting with you. You feel heat creeping up your neck and you know you must look feverish when his eyes roam across your corseted chest.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Your Highness,” you say, your whisper barely audible.

“I mean that sharing a marital bed would have its… advantages.” Prince Friedrich takes a sip of his wine, seemingly pleased that he’s made you flustered. Now, you can’t have that.

You glance over his shoulder to make sure Queen Charlotte is occupied. “I don’t need a husband to reap those sorts of advantages.”

When you say that, he slops half of his wine down his front in surprise. “You - you don’t?”

You arch an eyebrow. “You don’t have other companions for that sort of thing?” You pass him your napkin so he can clean himself up, your fingers grazing his knee under the table, making him inhale a sharp intake of breath. “You’re not worried about being unable to please your new wife?”

He stares straight ahead, momentarily stunned. Like he never realised sex was something you could be bad at. After a beat, he shakes his head. “It would not be prudent if people knew I was having - ”

“You mistake me. It is not my intention to get caught.”

Prince Friedrich sighs, a sad smile playing on his lips. “If only it were that simple. I’m surrounded by people. Always.”

The two of you sit quietly, allowing the servants to replace your empty plates with dessert. You can practically hear the cogs in the Prince’s head as his brain works overtime, trying to decide how to respond to this new information. Prince Friedrich takes a polite bite of chocolate cake and sits back.

“Once again, being the Queen’s nephew complicates things,” you say, sitting forward and sliding your fork through a sizable portion. “Don’t you have an appetite after your ride this morning, Your Highness?”

“I think the news that you do not wish me to court you has disappointed me so much that I never want to eat again,” he jokes half-heartedly before returning his focus entirely to you.

“If only we really were a stable hand and a footman - waiting until all the palace guests had gone to bed to meet in the stables after dark,” you say after eating the last bite of cake on your plate. 

Prince Friedrich swallows thickly and your eyes move from his Adam's apple to the almost untouched piece of cake on his plate.

“Are you - are you still hungry, my lady?” he asks.

You lean forward and steal a scoop of whipped cream from his plate with your fork. You eat the whipped cream and he watches with bated breath as you take several seconds longer than necessary to drag the polished silver fork from between your lips.

"I'm insatiable, Your Highness."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You scratch Artemis’s head in the dark stables, wondering if you’ve made a mistake in being here. Mostly you were interested to see if the sweet, naive Prince Friedrich would turn up. But you know how noblemen are. Their egos are so easy to bruise that an adverturess could scare them off simply by existing. 

Which is why you can scarcely believe it when there’s a knock at the closed stable door. You don’t breathe for a second before remembering that only Prince Freidrich would knock before entering a stable of all places.

He opens the door and for a moment is visibly relieved to see you. You stare at each other. The only sound is the soft rustling of the horses, that is until he closes the door behind him and moves to you with an agility that surprises you, considering how unstable he was on your horse earlier.  

If he had no appetite earlier, it has certainly returned now. Prince Friedrich has a hungry look in his eyes as he pulls you close by the waist and kisses you. You squeeze your eyes shut, expecting a clash of teeth but his kiss is passionate, even skilled. Your shoulders untense as you relax into it and slide your arms around his neck, allowing him to pull your body against his. Even through the many skirts under your evening gown, you can feel that he’s hard.

His tongue enters your mouth, licking and swirling it against yours - it’s surprisingly good. And he smells good. A beautiful sandalwood cologne that can only be from the finest perfumery.

You pull back breathlessly before you can allow the inebriating scent and feel of him to rid you of your senses. “Prince Friedrich, I -”

“Please, just Freidrich.”

“Friedrich.” Even with his permission the name feels strange in your mouth. “How much romantic experience do you have?”

“I’ve read books,” he says quickly and you press your lips together to stop laughing.

“You mean romance books? Like Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron?”

“No, I mean… instructional.”

“Instructions on how to fuck?” He nods and flushes a deep shade of pink at the question and this time you can’t help but laugh. “Remind me to spend time in the palace library in Prussia if I ever visit.” You study him. “I meant more… practical experience. It’s not the type of thing you can learn from a book.”

“I have a little experience.”

“Like what? Just kissing?” He hesitates and you move your hand down between your bodies and brush his hard cock through his trousers. “Or has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

Friedrich swallows. “Before now, you mean?” You nod and he hesitates again, guessing that it’s not the answer you want to hear. “No,” he says, truthfully.

You withdraw your hand. “Maybe this is something you should save for your future wife.”

“Marry me, then,” he blurts out, his voice trembling slightly with urgency.

You groan inwardly, shaking your head. “Friedrich, I wasn’t being coy when I told you I don’t want to be wed to a Prince. Besides, the season is starting tomorrow and you’ll be introduced to a hundred wealthy, beautiful women. Each one of them would be a better match than I.”

“Impossible.”

“You don’t know that -”

“I know that nobody has ever spoken to me the way that you did tonight. Or this morning for that matter.”

You smile despite yourself. You can believe it. If you were trying to secure the Prince’s hand in marriage, you would have carried yourself with much more grace and dignity than you have thus far.

“That’s because I have the manners of a common mule and the propriety of a common whore,” your grin falters and you look at him seriously. “And both of those qualities make me thoroughly incompatible with the Prince of Prussia. Marrying you is out of the question.”

“I understand,” he says, clearly worried that you’re reconsidering lying with him. “Let me be one of your companions. Show me how to do it.”

“Will you promise not to ask for my hand in marriage when this is done?”

Your hands undo the lacing on his trousers as he hitches his breath. “Anything. Sh-show me. Please.”

You remove your gloves and toss them on the stable floor. You slide your bare hand into his underwear and feel him shudder when you grip his cock. Christ almighty. It’s bigger than what you had expected from the innocent Prince.

“Since we’re practising so that you can please your future wife,” you tell him as you jerk your hand along his length. “I’ll tell you what feels good and what doesn’t. And you must do the same.”

He exhales shakily. “This - this feels good.”

“That’s a good start,” you smirk. “And you have a nice cock, Your Highness. The Princess Consort of Prussia will be a very lucky woman indeed once I’ve shown you how to use it.”

“Oha,” he breathes. 

“So eager,” you tut playfully, your face inches from his. 

You pull him close and he moans into your mouth as you kiss him. The sound of his evident pleasure sends heat tearing through you. You make a mental note to tell your future lovers to share their vocal appreciation because the sounds Prince Friedrich is making are driving you wild. 

As you kiss him, you lead him over to the loose pile of straw and get to the floor. The straw is scratchy on your bare arms but your legs are thankfully spared by the protection of your skirts. 

“When the time comes to do this with your lady wife, you should both undress. But our clothes will remain on - mostly. This is more convenient if there’s an unexpected intruder. Plus, this hay is itchy.”

“Allow me,” says Prince Freidrich, sitting back on his knees and pulling off his jacket. For a second you wonder if he’s misunderstood what you said about undressing but then he flattens his jacket on the straw behind you for you to lie on.

If you were the swooning type, you might just have fainted then and there.

“May I?” he asks, touching the hem of your skirt at your ankle. You nod and he pushes up your skirts. You lift your hips, allowing him to remove your satin underwear. “Verdammt,” he breathes. He moves his head between your legs and you almost sit up in surprise. You don’t mind him having a better look at you if it’s his first time but this feels extremely personal.

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

He looks up at you and you pull your skirts close to your stomach. “My book - it said to kiss you here to make sure you are ready.” His face is so close to you that you can feel his hot breath against your pussy.

“Your book said to kiss me… there?” Your eyebrows knit together but you think about how his tongue felt swirling inside your mouth and a stab of ache pierces through your ribs. 

“It is not customary?” You shake your head and he frowns in confusion but doesn’t move. 

And you realise that you don’t want him to go anywhere. That the idea of him kissing you there in the skilled way he was kissing your mouth inflames you. Out of amused interest, you lift yourself up onto one elbow only to find him looking at you intently, hanging on your every word, waiting to find out what he should do. You realise that you rather like the look of him here, between your legs.

“You -” You swallow. “- You may try. If it pleases you. But I warn you, I - oh -”

Your warning dissipates into the air as Prince Friedrich leans down and glides his hot tongue deep into the seam of your pussy with absolutely no hesitation. You feel yourself relax as you let him get on with this custom he’s learned from his book. You admit, it’s not unpleasant. But you’re not sure what he’s trying to achieve. 

It sort of feels like when you touch yourself. Maybe less dextrous but it’s hotter and wetter and - and - 

Good lord.

Much to your surprise - and your delight - you feel a soft, delicious warmth spreading from your core as he kisses you where you’ve never been kissed before. You splay your fingers through his blonde hair - your other hand still clutching your dress as his velvet mouth envelops your clutch of nerves and a wave of pleasure cascades through your body.

“Oh - oh fuck,” you curse, not caring that you’re swearing in front of the Prince. He pulls back abruptly and you pant.

“My lady?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

“Yes - god, yes,” you whine, impatient for his mouth to return to you.

He looks at you with that same subtle glint of authority he gave you this morning and says, “In that case, you are not keeping up with your side of the bargain. You promised you’d tell me what feels good.” 

Prince Friedrich dips his head and resumes, going from sucking on your clit to lapping up your juices and back again as you squirm and rock against him. This time you remember to hold up your side of the bargain. You pant and tell him how good his mouth feels - how good he feels. Everything is soaked, from your skirts to his chin and nose as he lets you grind yourself against his face. 

The flat of his tongue slides across your heat and it’s heavenly. Usually, when you’re with a partner, you’re used to working hard for your release - at the exact right position and tempo to pry yourself apart. But right now you’re just lying back and taking what Prince Friedrich’s tongue offers to you. And it’s offering exactly what you need.

“Don’t stop,” you mewl. “So good. S’good. So good -”

You feel yourself unravelling, your praise and words of affirmation turning into an incoherent babble as your orgasm breaches the surface. You must be making some semblance of sense because he listens - he keeps going and it’s all too much and not enough at once as your walls squeeze around nothing while Prince Friedrich continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves. 

Damn. You do your very best not to cry out and draw attention to the stables as Prince Friedrich gets closer and closer to making you cum on his tongue. But it’s nigh impossible as you feel the heat rise from your stomach and pull back like the tide. 

And then there’s the drop you’d been waiting for. 

“Oh - god,” you moan, drawing out the last syllable so that it drips as slowly as treacle. Ecstasy courses through your body as your release washes over you, making your thighs tremble on either side of the Prince’s head. Your chest heaves and you gently tug on his hair, away from your oversensitive cunt. “That’s - that’s good. It’s good. It’s enough,” you gasp before collapsing your head back onto his jacket.

Prince Friedrich gives you a few more slow, gentle licks and murmurs, “So feucht.” before drawing a finger over your twitching, soaking wet entrance, admiring his own handiwork. You don’t know what his words mean and you don’t have the cognizance to ask as you stare up at the wooden beams and try to regain your senses. 

After what feels like a lifetime of bliss, you’re happy for your view of the stable roof to be interrupted when Prince Friedrich moves up your body to kiss you and you taste the unfamiliar taste of your arousal on his lips. You kiss him back, slipping your tongue into his mouth and nipping at his bottom lip. God, this was supposed to be you teaching him a few things - not the other way around. When you anonymise this encounter and retell it to your friends later they will certainly be hearing about this.

“Good?” he asks when he pulls back and you nod, before swallowing air.

“I have half a mind to sell my estate and move to Prussia after the social season is over if that is what they do there,” you say breathlessly. 

He smirks. “I have told you that it could be arranged. Come home with me and we won’t have to be discreet. We could do this every day.”

You pout playfully and push a loose curl from his forehead. “But I like the stables,” you joke even though your back is aching and a palace bed sounds much more appealing. 

“Well, we have stables in Prussia. You could bring Artemis.”

Artemis. 

He remembered her name. 

Your face softens as you picture her as a royal steed, wearing a white feathered plume like she’s the diamond of the season. 

But then the fleeting daydream disappears when you tell yourself that it’s a fantasy you can’t allow either of you to indulge in. As much as Queen Charlotte favours you, you know it would be seen as unacceptable for the Prince to marry someone from such a minor house.

And besides, you remind yourself that you don’t need a royal husband. You have your own home. You have your own horses. You have your own friends. You have everything you’ve ever wanted. But then, why does the thought of him making his social season debut at the ball tomorrow make your heart ache?

“There’s something else I’d like to ride, presently,” you say, in an attempt to rid the thought from your mind as you gently push on his shoulders until he lies on his back. 

You straddle the Prince and unfasten his trousers so you can pull his cock out. The sight of him, hard and ready for you and the way he twitches involuntarily in your palm makes your heart pound as hard and steady as horses hooves galloping.

You wriggle forward until you feel the smooth underside of his cock sliding under your messily slick folds, still wet from the orgasm the Prince had bestowed upon you with his mouth. A flicker of dark enjoyment ignites in you when you see a line between his brows as he knits them together and watches as you lift your skirts so he can watch you sliding back and forward along the length of his cock.

“Do you enjoy watching me do this, Your Highness?” you ask as you grind against him.

“I would enjoy watching you do anything,” he says, pushing your gown out of the way to take hold of your hips. “Du bist schön.”

You pause. “Do what?” 

“Nothing. Please. Don’t stop.” He presses his thumbs into your hipbones, urging you to create friction against him again. 

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

“Isn’t - isn’t that what we’re doing?” stutters Prince Friedrich. 

“Oh, my sweet Prince.” You bring your hand to his jaw as you lift yourself so you can position the head of his cock between your soaking folds with your other hand. “We’re only just getting started.”

You lock eyes with him and watch his face contort in pleasure as you slowly sink down, inch by glorious fucking inch. “Oh gott,” he whines. Your German is poor but you’re pretty confident you know what that means. 

“Let me know when you’re going to spill - I don’t want to carry your bastard,” you murmur, still cupping his face. “Do you understand?”

“Ja,” he says through gritted teeth. “I understand.”

You’re not sure he really does but that primal part of your brain that wants to fuck him now and worry about the consequences later tells you to shove your hips down against the resistance. You force the rest of his thick cock into you and inhale through your teeth, feeling the delicious way he stretches and fills you. His hands clamp down hard on your hips, his thumbs pressing fresh bruises into your hipbones. 

They don’t make them like this in Kettering. Or London for that matter. Equal parts sweet and naive yet firm and decisive. He doesn’t know what he wants yet but he still wants it. Desperately. 

As if proving your point, you lean forward to feel the beautiful way he drags out of you and he seizes the opportunity to bury his face into your cleavage, your corseted dress making it exceptionally easy for him. 

He moans open-mouthed against your chest, his tongue sloppily trying to find your nipple. You move your hips back and down and wildfire bursts in your lower belly when his cock nudges against that sweet spot you’ve been longing for. 

It’s not enough for him - he wants more. He lifts his hips and the tip of his cock drives against your G-spot.

“Oh - fuck. Freidrich. That feels good.”

“So it is okay for me to move too?” he asks.

“Please,” you murmur, closing your eyes and feeling him slide back into you at that perfect angle. 

You don’t need to tell him twice.

He rolls his hips upwards to meet yours as you ride him. You can hear how fucking wet you are.  Everything is slick and hot and drenched as you roll your hips up and down on top of him and he fucks himself into you.

“So schön,” he grunts and the foreign words sound guttural to your ears. 

“I hope that means ‘good’,” you tease, leaning forward to breathe hot air onto his neck.

“Pretty,” he murmurs in your ear. “So pretty.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage as his hips pick up pace. Fuck - you like him being under you like this. Even here, in the stables where someone might come looking if they notice that Prince Friedrich is missing from his chambers. 

The sound of your stretched, wet cunt fills the stables so obscenely that it peppers shame into your consciousness. But he hears it too. He jerks up so fiercely that his balls slap against you. You suck air in through your teeth at the sharp sting and he looks concerned but you reassure him. “It’s - oh fuck - keep going. Right there.”

You go from slamming yourself down on him to your whole body stiffening, letting him drive up into you as your hot orgasm approaches, creeping over you in pulsing waves. Your walls grip him, tightening and convulsing as -

“I should - tja - remove myself from inside you -” he stops thrusting up into you and you almost wail with disappointment.

“No - fuck - keep going.” What are you saying? You rock your hips and bounce on him, every nerve inside you applauding your decision to ignore your conscience as you manage to hang onto the precipice. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m going to -”

“Fuck it,” you heave, your walls squeezing impossibly tighter as you fuck yourself on him. “Cum in me. I don’t care.” What the fuck are you saying?!

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. 

It’ll be fine. 

You’ve had an accident or two and have been lucky so far.

You may as well have told the Prince that Christmas had come early. The sight of your flushed face, dishevelled hair and the way your tits are threatening to spill out of your dress with every bounce of your hips drives him wild. 

Frankly, you’re the most deliciously intoxicating thing he’s ever experienced. He just doesn’t have the necessary vocabulary to tell you this in English.

By this point, “Oh gott,” is the only thing he says that you can understand. You hardly hear the rest as he babbles away in German - you can barely hear anything over the pulse of blood pounding in your ears as Friedrich picks up his pace again. Your body locks down around him so tightly you wonder if you might break him. 

“Just like that - fuck, there,” you whimper. He takes the instruction well, driving his cock deep into you - exactly where you need it. The coil of heat in your core tightens impossibly tighter as he chokes words you don’t understand into your ear as he pulls you close to his chest

Maybe one day he’ll teach you what those words mean and you’ll find out that he was telling you what a good girl you are for taking his cock like this.

“Fuck - I’m - that’s it,” you sob, your chest heaving against his fine silk shirt and your fingers entwined in his soft blonde hair. You squeeze around him like a vice. “Friedrich, I -”

“Do it,” he groans. You hadn’t expected him to say that. And certainly not with the commanding tone he chooses. “Let me feel it.”

The coil inside you snaps. A blaze of white-hot fire bursts through you like stitches being ripped. You seize and cry out as your release whips through you with such force that you think you might go cross-eyed. You bury your face into his neck, smelling the rich sandalwood scent splashed on his skin, mixed with his sweat. 

Freidrich keeps his tight hold of your hips, fucking into you even as you shake and tremble. 

“Ich komme,” breathes the Prince. “Ich komme, ich komme.” It only takes a few more rough, slapping thrusts until you don’t have to guess what that means. You feel him finishing inside you, thick ropes of his spend painting your insides. 

You lie here like this for a few moments, collapsed onto his chest and feeling his seed leaking out of you. You feel dizzy as his chest rises and falls underneath you and his fingers tenderly trace lines up and down your back. He closes his eyes, feeling the satin of your gown as his fingertips dance across it.

You could easily fall asleep like this.

Instead, you hoist yourself off him and lie flat on your back as if unattaching yourself from him will place a barrier between you. Put a halt to the immense surge of affection you feel for him in this moment. But he doesn’t let you get far. Prince Friedrich rolls onto his side and cups your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone and skirting across your lips before he leans down to kiss you. You close your eyes, letting the kiss dissolve into a wet, lazy haze.

He pulls back and looks down into your eyes. “I promised I would not ask for your hand when this was over. So I have nothing else to say.”

“At least now you are prepared for the social season beginning tomorrow.”

“I don’t care about the season. I want to leave. Tonight. To take you with me.”

“I don’t have the wealth or the beauty for that to be allowed to happen,” you say. “The Queen would never find us to be a suitable match. Never mind Lady Whistledown having a field day.”

“You have more than enough of both for me.”

“For you, Friedrich. But not enough for Prince Friedrich. Not enough for The Crown,” you say, your heart breaking as you do. This was a bad idea, after all. You adjust your gown and get to your feet, pretending to ignore Prince Friedrich’s attempts to help you up.

“And what about my - my seed? What if you’re with child?”

You laugh mirthlessly. “We’d have to be exceptionally unlucky for that to happen on our first try. Put it far from your mind. Go and meet with the diamond of the season tomorrow and all of the ladies queuing up to become the Princess Consort of Prussia. They will make you much happier than I ever could.”

You walk towards the stable door but he takes your hand and gives you your discarded gloves. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, Friedrich.” You can’t. You can hear the gossip already. A thousand people whispering behind your back about how you’re not good enough for the Prince. It would be like that every day for the rest of your life in the spotlight if you did marry him. You tear your eyes away from him and open the stable door. 

“Will I ever see you again?” he asks after you.

You pause and turn around. “Perhaps.” You smile at him sadly. “Who knows? If I am with child, maybe you’ll have no choice but to whisk me away back to Prussia and marry me, never to be seen in London ever again. And everyone will wonder why.”

You turn back before he can see your face crumble, leaving the stable door open behind you as Prince Friedrich watches you leave into the night. Your mare whinnies, nudging him gently over her stable door.

Prince Friedrich gives in to her pestering and scratches her neck, much to her enjoyment. Before dawn, he will write a letter. To make sure a stall is prepared for Artemis in the palace stables in Prussia.

Just in case.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

His Princess - Pt 5

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

Summary: The dragons and their host are getting restless waiting in Harrenhal and are relieved when they receive instructions from Rhaenyra. Daemon is sent back to Harrenhal, but is prepared to do whatever it takes to keep a clear mind to prepare for what he must face. Y/n and Ben move their host and reunite with Rhaenyra. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, p in v,  handjob, green council pov pls don’t h8 me 🧎🏼‍♀️, emo father/daughter talk, wine

Authors Note: ok the father daughter talk is making my daddy issues act up!!, i made a timeline for this fic and there’s an end in sight 🥲 it’s gunna get messy before it gets better and im anticipating like at least three more parts but it could be more🫣 

Word Count: 5k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

My cheek is repeatedly rubbing against the stone wall as moans fall my my mouth. Ben has a hand wrapped around my throat and the other is squeezing harshly at my hip. He’s panting in my ear as he continually pounds into me. 

“I’ll be surprised if the entirety of this castle doesn’t hear you mewling for my cock.” he breathes out as his hand applies light pressure. 

I cry out at his words as I clench around him. He grunts snapping his hips quicker into mine as I continue to whimper. A sob tears through me as my pleasure takes over and I feel his warmth spreading through me. He roughly pulls out and puts himself back in his pants. He lifts my pants back up as I’m still resting my head on the cool stone. 

“You’re going to have to learn to have patience.” he chuckles turning me around towards him. 

“Me?” I hiss looking up to him. “You were the one who dragged me in here.” I narrow my eyes at him.

“Was I?” he smirks down at me licking his lips. 

“Yes, you imbecile.” I seethe pulling him towards the door.

“Imbecile? That’s new.” he hums. “You’re always so sweet to me, my Princess.” he kisses the side of my head escorting me out of the servants closet.  

Rhaenyra has sent word of there being no texts or records of such a strong pulling bond. She says she assumes it’s the matter of how strong the bond between Silverwing and Vermithors is. They spent decades sequestered together in the pits, their bond forever strengthening. 

With that linking me to Ben our feelings and emotions have been heightened and more attuned to each other. I actually quite like the bond, it has made us sync together but the desire for one another is so strong. Ben was right enough that the entirety of Harrenhal probably knows of our trysts. 

“My Princess, my Lord,” Lord Darry smiles at us as he rounds the corner. 

“How are you this morning?” I return his smile hoping I don’t look flushed. 

“Doing well. Has there been any news of what’s to come?” he looks to me with hopeful and eager eyes. 

“As of right now we are awaiting the Queens command. We are to continue to build our strength and work on moving as a lethal unit.” Ben answers for me looking to Lord Darry. 

“Yes, of course.” he nods his head. “Also,” his voice trembles. “The farmers are running low on animals to provide for your dragons. Could you possibly take them hunting?” he looks between us nervously. 

“Of course, Lord Darry.” I nod my head to him. “I know they have large appetites.” I smile hoping to calm his nerves. 

“Indeed, my Princess.” he nods to me. “My Lord.” he nods his head to Ben before scuttling down the hall. 

“Since when did everyone become terrified of us?” he chuckles pulling me along the hall. 

“Since we came back with another full grown dragon. Claimed by you. Now you’re known throughout the host as Bloody Ben rider of Vermithor. I would be scared to face you.” My words covered in adoration as I turn my head to him. 

“You would be scared of me?” he lets out a loud laugh as he leads us out of the castle. 

“Of course, you’re fucking psychotic.” my words cause a smile to split across his face. 

“First imbecile and now psychotic? I’m starting to question if you truly love me.” I roll my eyes at him and approach our curled up dragons. 

“We have to hunt for our food today.” I look up to Silverwing who seems to scoff. “I’m not the one who has eaten the Riverlands dry.” I put my hands on my hips. 

“Maybe we can get them to bring back food for us.” Ben chuckles to Vermithor who lets out a chuff. He has caught on to the language quicker than I thought and I’m ceaselessly amazed when he forms flowing sentences. 

“If anyone is getting catered to, it’s us.” I huff turning to him. 

Vermithor thuds his head back on the ground and breathes out deeply. Silverwing snaps her teeth at him and nudges him with her snout. Ben turns to me smiling as our dragons seem to have a small spat. They both turn to us and dip their wings down for us both to mount. 

“Looks like we’re all flying.” I say triumphantly as I begin to climb up to the saddle. 

“We’re just coming with to pick out the food for you two to get.” he taunts from his saddle. 

Silverwing shoots into the sky leaving Ben and Vermithor on the ground. I hear him before I see them come up on our right. Vermithor is coasting on the breeze while Ben is lounging back in the saddle. I roll my eyes at them before we dip down to the river. 

She snaps fish out of the river and spits them onto the shore. Vermithor circles the river and lands where she’s throwing the fish. After Silverwing has retrieved a fair amount of fish she comes back with one last mouthful. On our descent she spits the fish out onto Vermithors head and lands across from him. 

Giggles burst out of me as I take on the scene. Ben is quickly removing his clips and sliding down the side of Vermithor. I climb down the side of Silverwing and start to walk towards Ben. I try to hide my smile as I see some fish remains on his clothes. 

“Come here, my Princess.” he opens his arms and runs to me to try to hug me. 

“Ben, no.” I giggle running away from him. “Maybe you both shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” I turn my head behind of me but don’t see him anymore. “Ben?” I ask tilting my head. I scream as his arms wrap around me. 

“What were you saying?” he rubs himself all over me. 

“Ben,” I fume wiggling out of his grasp. 

“It just means we get to bathe together when we get back. I know how much you love that.” his eyes darken at the offer. 

“Mm, so you’re saying you made me smell of fish out of love?” I narrow my eyes at him. 

“You started it.” he chuckles. 

“I don’t want you to bathe with me.” I toss over my shoulder as I begin to return to Silverwing. 

“You’ll change your mind once we get to our chambers.” he says confidently as we see Vermithor go dip his head in the river to get rid of the fish remains. 

“Silverwing hasn’t bathed with Vermithor just as I won’t with you.” I raise my chin at him as I climb up Silverwing while Vermithor nudges Ben’s back. 

“Don’t be so stubborn.” he smiles up at me. 

“Fly,” Silverwing shoots us into the sky leaving them behind. 

Vermithor comes into view as we glide on the wind back to Harrenhal. We land outside of the gates and I strip out of as many layers I can before I parade myself around smelling like fish. I walk back into the gates with Ben trailing behind me. The servants are already ushering hot water into our chambers by the time we finish climbing up the steps. 

“You can find somewhere else to bathe.” I hum as I begin stripping the rest of my layers. 

“I will not. This is practically a pool, Y/n.” Ben starts to remove his clothes. 

“Then you can sit on the opposite side.” I purse my lips as I dip into the steaming water. 

He sinks into the water across from me while staring at me the whole time. I roll my eyes as I begin to take out my braids so I can thoroughly wash my hair. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Ben slowly inching closer. 

“I said the opposite side.” I hum shooting my eyes to him. 

“I give it five minutes.” he smirks looking to me as he begins to scrub himself.

I roll my eyes as I continue to wash my hair and try to avoid my eyes lingering on him for too long. I know he can feel what I want from across this tub but he is right, I am feeling stubborn. A moan slips out of my mouth as I run my nails over my scalp. I lean my head back to wash out the soap, exposing my hardened nipples to Ben. 

“Y/n,” his voice rough as I sit up again and look to him. 

“What?” I tilt my head. 

“You know what.” his eyes darken as they dip down to my chest. 

I slip my hands beneath the water and trail them up my chest until I’m cupping my breasts. Whimpers fall from my mouth as I bring my fingers to tease my nipples. I look to Ben with low lids and see he’s clenching his jaw. He starts to move across the pool to me and I shake my head. 

“I said opposite side.” I say breathlessly. 

He sits back down and huffs. One of my hands slip below the water and I bring it directly to my throbbing bud. A moan falls from my lips as I begin to swirl around my clit. My eyes screw shut as I focus on my pleasure as my mind drifts to Ben. I peek an eye open and see his flushed face. He bites his lip as I see his arm flexing from his hand beneath the water. 

“Gods you torture me, my love.” his voice like gravel. 

“Ben,” I suck my lip into my mouth as my hips chase my hand. 

“Let me come help you.” his voice borderline begging. 

“You didn’t want to help earlier.” I pout as I move my fingers faster.

“What can I do to atone?” he starts moving towards me. 

“Be quiet and make me come.” I whine as his hands slide up my thighs. 

His hand replaces mine and his mouth immediately attaches to mine. I sigh against his lips as his fingers move in the way that has me gasping. He kisses down my neck and starts to speed his fingers. I reach out and wrap my hand around his hardened length and begin to pump. 

“Fuck,” he groans into my mouth as I tighten my hand. 

My hips grind against his hand as his rock into mine. We become a moaning mess in each other’s arms until we both come down clinging to each other. We rise out of the bath still tangled in each other and hastily dry off. He leads me to the bed where there is no end in sight to our pleasure. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

The Lords sit around the council table avoiding looking at us for too long. I don’t know if it’s from terror or embarrassment. We take our seats next to each other and assess the map laid in front of us. Our host continues to grow as smaller villages send men to fight for my mother. 

“There’s been a raven from your mother.” my head snaps up to the Lords around the council chamber. 

“Why am I just hearing of it now?” I hold my hand out for the letter. 

“Your guard said you were indisposed after your hunt with your dragons. We’ve only received it within the hour.” he avoids my eye contact. 

“I will speak with my guard. There is never a reason you won’t be able to reach me or Ben concerning pressing matters.” I nod to them. 

Gods I’ve been so caught up in Ben that now these Lords think I’m just fucking Ben instead of working with the host. We have to really start trying to make these boundaries because these distractions will be less than welcome on a battlefield. 

“It is no problem, Princess.” Lord Mooton is quick to assure me. 

I open the letter which is written in High Valyrian should it fall into the wrong hands. Ben looks over my shoulder to read it with me. 

Y/n and Ben: 

It seems as if Seasmoke has claimed a rider(Addam) for himself. Corlys has been keeping much from us apparently. The time is ripe to take Kings Landing. The people are on our side and if we can lure Aemond and Vhagar out we can take it. I fear he will come to Harrenhal and I need you both with me to take Kings Landing. As much as I don’t want to I’m sending Daemon back. It’s as I said: my wants are simply wants. I will send another raven with further instruction, but as of right now ready the host to move on the Crownlands within the fortnight. 

I love you both - Rhaenyra

“It seems as if we will finally be moving out of Harrenhal.” I look up to the Lords and hand Ben the letter to finish working out what it says. 

“When and where?” Lady Mallister looks to me with exuberant eyes. 

“We will march out within the fortnight to take on the Crownlands.” I study their expressions and all seem delighted to finally leave this crumbling castle. “Her Grace will send us another raven with further instructions.” 

“We shall alert our commanders and begin preparing to march. The men will be excited and ready to move.” The Lords look to us nodding. 

“Excellent,” Ben says smiling to them. “We will call a meeting when we know more information. For now you are dismissed.” I rise from my chair as the Lords leave. 

I shut the door behind them as they exit and turn to Ben. I sigh and take my seat once more. I look over the letter once more to make sure I truly read everything properly and groan. 

“Were you able to decipher the letter?” I look up from the letter to Ben. 

“Daemon coming back here is fucking madness.” Ben shakes his head. “At least we’re taking the host with us. What kind of trouble can he get in on his own?” he raises his eyebrow to me.

“Daemon on his own is even more dangerous.” I sigh rubbing my forehead. 

“What is the plan to lure Aemond and Vhagar away? You say people are terrified of me, but my Princess,” he sighs as he slides his eyes to mine. “Aemond terrifies me.” he says hushed. 

“Aemond and Vhagar are Rhaenyras biggest foe. After Rooks Rest it’s clear he has no loyalties. I don’t know what Rhaenyras plan will hold, but hopefully we will be far enough away as to not feel his wrath.” a shiver goes through me. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n and Ben:

I have let word travel of your host at Harrenhal in Kings Landing. I have confirmation that word of this has made it to Aemonds council. Daemon will be to Harrenhal before the end of week and you will begin marching. You will meet with Addam, Baela, and Jace, along with myself, in Rosby. I have had my host take over the castle there and we’ve begun to amass. From there the commands will come straight from my mouth. Gods above, if Aemond should come upon you flee or hide, just please come back to me. 

I will see you both soon - Rhaenyra

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Green Council Pov(Alicent still a member lol):

“That whores brazen daughter thinks she can summon a host? Against me?” Aemond slams his ball to the table. 

“It would seem as if she’s also found a dragonseed who has claimed Vermithor and now rides at her side.” Lord Larys winces as Aemonds chair groans back as he rises. 

“More bastards on dragons.” Aemond chuckles. “No matter, Vhagar and I can take them all.” he walks over to the map and begins to move his men around. 

“Aemond, I should hope you would stay here.” Alicent speaks up with worry heavy in her voice as she thinks of Aegon. 

“Dragons are fighting this war, Your Grace. We must send a dragon.” Cole looks down to his hands trying not to think about the events of Rooks Rest for the umpteenth time today.

“I shall fly out at the end of the week and meet them myself. I’ll finish burning down Harrenhal as it should’ve been in the first place.” Aemond glares at Lord Larys before he dismisses the council.

“Aemond,” Alicent lingers behind. 

“Yes, mother?” Aemond purses his lips as he leans back in his chair. 

“I do not wish for you to go to Harrenhal.” her eyes are glassy as they search over Aemond. “All of my children keep getting taken from me.” her voice shakes as she pleads silently. 

“And whose fault is that?” he whispers as he looks her over before he rises from the table leaving her alone with her thoughts. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov:

“Welcome back,” I look to Daemon as he dismounts while I try to usher him in through the gates.

“I will sleep in a tent outside of the castle gates, I must keep a clear mind for what’s to come.” he nods his head looking to the crumbling castle. 

“What’s to come?” I tilt my head looking to him. 

“Death.” he turns to Caraxes and unties his bags letting them fall to the ground. 

“I’ll have a tent brought out to you, I’ll see to it you’re brought food and water.” I hum turning to go back through the gates not wanting to listen to the cynicism.

“No need, your mother has sent me with provisions for the rest of my stay here, but thank you, daughter.” he looks to me over his shoulder and I turn once more on my heel not in the mood to have this moment. 

I walk through the gates shaking my head. That fucking martyr. He truly plans to face Aemond alone, but if anyone could do it, it would be Daemon. Our relationship has always been complicated. We’re too much alike, but not in the right ways to make us properly bond. That does not mean I wish for him to die. The thought alone has my eyes watering as I walk up the stairs to our chambers. I wipe my tears angrily before I enter not understanding this sudden rush of sadness. 

“Ben?” the doors rip open in front of me as he runs into me. 

“What’s wrong?” he looks down to me worriedly assessing me physically before pulling me to him and sealing us in our chambers. 

“I knew in the back of my head. I knew why he was coming here, I just didn’t want to face it.” I bury my head in his neck. 

“What do you mean?” He rubs my back soothingly. 

“Daemon. He’s going to face Aemond so we can put Rhaenyra on the throne.” my voice a whisper. 

“Alone?” I nod my head in confirmation. 

“I could stay and help-“ 

“Absolutely not.” I pull back shaking my head. “You will do no such thing. You’re to ride at my side by the Queens orders. And mine.” I will command him if I must. 

“Of course, my Princess.” he studies me. “I just want to help ease your burden. I can feel your pain.” he pulls me back to him smoothing my hair and holding me tightly.

“My father is a stupid arrogant ass, but I look up to him nonetheless. I love him regardless of his actions even though it makes me question myself and my morals..” I trail off feeling tears prick at my eyes. “My mother seems to have faith in him, so I will too.” I inhale deeply and relax on the exhale. 

“It seems now would be the time to talk to him.” Ben looks down to me softly.

“I will not say goodbye tonight.” I shake my head as I feel a tear slip down my cheek. 

“We leave out tomorrow and it won’t be a goodbye. Just a talk. I can walk you down and wait for you by our dragons. I’ll bring a book to study and it will be fine.” he offers as he wipes away my rogue tears. 

“Okay.” I nod my head. 

Ben grabs a book on dragon riding and battle strategy while I grab bottles of wine. He leads me out of our chambers and out of the main doors. We slip out of the main gates and I see Daemon sitting around a fire poking it absentmindedly. 

“Take your time, my love.” Ben gently pushes me in the direction of Daemon who looks up to me. 

“Y/n and wine,” a smile pulls across his mouth as I take a seat next to him. “No Ben?” he looks around. 

“He wanted to study and be by Vermithor.” I offer him one of my sealed bottles. “These are checked daily and from our personal trove.” I reassure him as I open mine. 

“To you and Ben,” he grabs the bottle by its neck and raises it to me. 

“To me and Ben,” I raise my bottle to him with a smile plastered on my face. 

“He treats you well?” he hums taking a swig. 

“Very well, I think you would actually like him.” I smile to him. 

“I have since he handed you that knife in the council chambers to kill me.” he smirks looking to me. 

“I’m surprised you remember that.” I chuckle raising the bottle to my lips again. 

“There’s not many who would be so bold, besides you of course. So I knew in that moment you had found your match.” I look to him, shocked by his words. 

“I’m surprised you approve.” I chuckle shaking my head. 

“Then that fool claimed Vermithor. Y/n the bond between those dragons is something mighty. I know with them in the skies again your mother will sit the throne. We all have a part to play. Mine is here with Aemond. Yours is in Kings Landing with your mother and Ben at your side.” he wipes his face and I squint at him. 

“Are you fucking crying?” I gape at him. 

“You were crying when you came here so I’ll hear none of it.” he waves me off with his hand. “Daughter, I do love you. I truly hope tomorrow isn’t goodbye.” his voice wavering. 

“No, I will see you in Kings Landing.” I look to him as tears flow down my cheeks steadily. “I love you too, father.” I wipe my face before sipping my wine. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We’ve been on the march for two days now and have thankfully seen no sign of any hosts or dragons. I try to have us stick strictly to marching by the moon so our dragons and our host can keep more cover. By day our dragons rest under tree canopy’s as the men rest surrounding them. 

“I feel like it’s been too quiet.” I turn to Ben in our makeshift bed. 

“They only have but one dragon and she should be on her way to Harrenhal any day now.” he bites his lip as his nerves get the best of him. 

“The closer we get the more on edge everyone is. I can feel the energy coming from our host and the dragons. The Greens still have a host of their own that we must keep an eye out for.” my mind has been racing with everything that we must be doing and everything that could go wrong. 

“Let’s just have a night without strategy and planning. Everything is up to the Gods now, we just have to move into place.” he holds me closer to him. 

I lean up and place a soft kiss on his lips. He props himself up and kisses me more fiercely before pulling me onto his lap. Our tongues dance as we pour all of our worries and fear out of us. I pull back from him and quickly remove his shirt. Ben smiles up at me as he removes my shirt next. 

His hands cup my breasts as I lean down and capture him in another kiss. I groan into his mouth as he begins to tease my nipples. We pull apart to take off our pants and reattach as if we were never apart. I slide down his length as he holds me tightly to him. 

“You’re going to have to be quiet.” he grunts against my lips as I continue grinding against him. 

“Mhm,” I nod my head. 

Ben lifts my hips up and slides into me the angle making my gasp. He slowly lifts my hips and I rest my head against his neck hoping it’ll muffle some of my sounds. His hands go to my hips and start a steady pace. I whine into his neck as my hips start to move faster. His hips snap up into mine causing a moan to fall from my mouth. 

“The whole host is going to hear you,” he growls frustrated. 

He pulls me off of him and kneels behind me. He lifts my hips and tells me to make my noises into the pillows. I wrap my arms around the pillow and bring it to my mouth while he slides into me once more. He starts a brutal pace that has me sobbing into the pillow. He hasn’t said anything about my noise so I completely let go. 

“Fucking taking me so good.” he grunts out as his fingers dig into my hips. 

A moan rips through me as I explode around him. His hips falter but continue pounding into me. He chases his own high and I arch my back to offer us both a new sensation. My elbows collapse at the pleasure he takes from my body as he begins to shutter inside of me. He collapses on the bed next to me and I finally turn my head to him breathing heavily. 

“Marry me after this war.” his words soft as his eyes search mine. I nod my head vigorously and pull him to my lips once more. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We’re only a days march out from Rosby and the road still remains clear. Ben and I patrol the skies and still don’t see the Greens host. I fly further ahead and look around the border of Rosby and see the host my mother has gathered. The Dragons are all curled up together and I smile at the thought of seeing my siblings again. Silverwing turns us back to our host and we land next to Vermithor.

“Anything?” Ben calls up.

“They’re awaiting our arrival.” I call down before I meet him on the ground. “The host she has is a bit larger than ours.” I look to him nodding my head adding up our numbers.

“How many?” he leads us to the council tent. 

“I would say at least six thousand strong.” I shake my head at the sheer size of the host once it’s combined with ours. “Along with four dragons.” 

“The Greens will never stand a chance.” he smiles to me and I can’t help but smile myself. 

“Good morning, my Lords.” I greet as we enter the tent. “The road is clear to Rosby and my mother and her host await us.” 

“How fares Her Graces host?” Lord Mooton asks. 

“Four dragons and six thousand men.” I watch as their eyes bulge.

“Victory is inevitable.” Lord Darry lets out a breathy laugh. 

“We will be taking Kings Landing with upwards of ten thousand men and six dragons. We’ve worked for many moons to move as one and will be adding more with tomorrow’s sun. I know not what my mother’s plan holds but we will have a meeting with the next steps when we meet with Her Grace.” the River Lords nod at me and Ben before they begin to shuffle out of the tent to begin readying their men. 

“Can you feel the promise of violence in the air?” Ben looks to me. 

“I can and I must admit that I’m scared.” I look to him trying not to think of everything that is happening around me. 

“You were scared our first battle together too. We came out victorious then and we will this time.” he assures me pulling me into a hug. 

“My single command stays the same: Don’t die.” I hug him tighter. 

“Oh no, you’re stuck with me forever.” I feel his chuckle rumble through his chest. 

We pull apart and go to our dragons to begin preparing them to head out once more. Our host is absolutely buzzing and we make the decision to push through the day to Rosby to join with my mother’s forces. I fly at the front of our host and Ben coasts near the end of the line. 

Moondancer and Vermax meet us in the skies and my siblings smile wildly as their dragons twirl around us. Our men slowly make it to the camp as we begin to land by the other dragons. We make it to solid ground and take in the excitement around us. 

“Y/n, Ben,” my mother sighs out in relief and pulls us into a hug. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌 

ps: i get so fkn emo that so many of you enjoy this story like it makes my heart hurt fr 🖤

pss: i’m almost done w the next part 😅

Part 6

[pallanophblargh]

Well, I found all my old cover illustration originals. However… some of them faded dramatically while in storage. They were light to begin with (likely due to the tendinitis I was wrestling at the time) and the resulting scan… left a lot to be desired. The meager paper texture has started to compete with the lightest areas. I remember this one being a massive pain in the ass to scan and adjust the first time around.

So since I’m a Luddite, I’m manually darkening key areas. It needed doing anyway. You can see the whole left hand side of the piece is being darkened, while the head and forelegs and far wing are as pasty as I found them.

I guess it’s been good to see how much I have improved over the years at the very least.

Someday there will be prints, I’m still going to make that work out.

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE HIGHEST TOWER (1/2)

Summary: As a Princess of the Realm the chance to escape political marriage and abscond with your Promised was beyond anything you could wish for. When the time is right, your dragon will lead you to them and your mother will support your union. In return, you must do all you can to protect her claim, even if you must do so from within the very heart of the Greens.

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader (eventual), Aemond Targaryen x Reader (mentioned)

Word Count: 4296

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, just general character awfulness, some espionage, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd.

Masterlist

You had lived the better part of eight and ten years in the Red Keep. The daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen handed off to the Queen like some paltry trinket. The King’s first and final word on the matter of his granddaughter. Thrust carelessly into Alicent’s care at the fresh age of ten, a peace offering and a trade for Lucerys’ life. You scarcely remembered life beyond the borders of the castle. Only that one moment your brother's life had been under threat and the next yours was all but forfeit.

Your mother had clasped the back of your neck, pulled you toward her and begged her father for mercy. You who had not even been in the room when Aemond had lost his eye, lost to your own midnight flight atop dragon back. And then the curtain of Rhaneyra’s hair parted, and from over her shoulder Daemon met your eyes. For a single poignant moment, he stared and then a smirk broke across his face as if he knew.

Knew that you were not the innocent that your mother would have the King believe you to be. Knew that your midnight rendezvous with your dragon at the exact moment of Vhagar’s claiming was not mere coincidence. Your intentions had been innocent at first. A trip to the kitchen for a cup of milk which you would warm on the stove – a feat the late Sir Harwin Strong had taught you. Past your brothers’ room, your mother’s room, the servants' quarters and a balcony overlooking the beach. And then you had seen him. Aemond scaling your cousin’s dragon. And that just wouldn’t do.

Targaryens – true Targaryens who did not cower under the cover of darkness – needed their dragons if they had any hope of finding their Promised. Your cousin, Baela who always shared her sweets and let you borrow her wooden sword, deserved the chance to meet her Promised in the wake of her mother’s death. The man or woman that Vhagar would lead her to when the Old Gods saw fit. In the game of thrones when Targearyens already found so few chances for happiness, how could Aemond strip his cousin of her chance at true love? True, as an eldest daughter Baela’s future husband was most certainly decided – likely one of your brothers. But you were certain that Jacaerys or Lucerys would be understanding and gracious when the time came for Baela to claim her Promised, as she would be when the time came for her Lord-Husband. Such was the way of things. At least for the lucky.

Imagining your dragon, Laesuvion, claimed by another and leaving you with no guide to your Gods-given Promised made you feel ill. And so, you set out on bare, hurried feet to find and mount Laesuvion. You were a Targaryen born of the blood of dragons, of true Valyrian features. Vhagar was your cousin’s dragon by right and it was your duty to protect that claim. She was a formidable, indomitable beast but shackled with a new rider on his first flight. If you had one chance to disrupt the yet fragile bond being formed by dragon and rider, it was to dislodge the green boy and send him toppling toward the sea.

Laesuvion had hatched for you in your cradle. He was much younger and smaller than Vhagar but all the faster. It would be no trouble to fell your traitorous cousin. The difficulty became disguising the shock of white scales along the elongated arch of Laesuvion’s neck whilst searching for Vhagar’s camouflaged breadth.

“Aderī Laesuvion. Dokimarvose.” (Quickly Laesuvion. Focus.) You urged him.

Despite your efforts, you only caught sight of them twice. Once among the clouds, though you were sure Aemond got a greater view of you than you did him. And again, as Vhagar was returning to land Driftmark. Your hunt had been unsuccessful. But you had been sure no one would suspect you of such vengeful intent toward your uncle. Except perhaps Daemon.

“It is a fair price, Rhaenyra,” Daemon’s smirk was cunning, “They will not harm her.”

The betrayal on your mother's face heated your blood. How dare he tell her what to do? Your mother, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne. This man who was no one, husband of no one, Prince of nowhere, heir of nothing. Who was he to command your mother? And now, to step toward you and attempt to pry you away from her. So close you could almost-

Almost hear the two of them whispering. To each other. To you.

“Think.” Daemon hissed, “They will demand her for Aemond sooner or later.”

“She is my only daughter.”

“She will still be your daughter in the Red Keep.” He kept up the pretence of fighting your mother, despite her arms having gone lax around you. “Not a bastard. Not a bargaining chip. Your daughter. At the heart of the greens.”

“She is a child.”

“A Targaryen child.”

“She is my child.”

“Then let her prove it.”

“Mother,” You warbled. “I don’t want to go.”

“Tala.” Daemon shifted, and his eyes met yours again as if you should know this word. You did not. “You will go. Make your mother proud. Learn at court. Find those who support her claim and those who will side with the Hightowers. You are weak and a girl, they will not suspect you. When the time comes you will be our most valuable weapon.”

“But I want to go home, Kepa.” (Father or paternal uncle)

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Rhaenyra held your face and brushed away your tears. “You will.”

“’Nyra.” Daemon warned.

“But not today.” She kissed each of your cheeks. “Today you must be strong for me. You must be strong for your brothers. You must do as Daemon says, we must keep them happy.”

And then your mother pulled you toward her firmly, pressed her lips to your ear and whispered a promise. A reward should you embark on this mission. Beyond sweets and silk dresses and extra time on Laesuvion. Beyond anything you had ever been promised or ever dreamed of asking for. Do this for your mother and she would exempt you from the chains of political marriage that would shackle each of your brothers. There was no guarantee you would be lucky like your brothers, married to one who would understand. But do this and you could have your Promised under the eyes of the Seven, the Old Gods, and the traditions of old Valyria itself. Even at 10, you knew that for a Princess and a second-born, there was no greater boon.

So, you did what you had to do for your one shot to truly be with your Promised. You squared your shoulders, kissed your mother's cheek, and stumbled toward Queen Alicent. She gripped you by the shoulder, tucked you into the folds of her skirt, and stared cruelly down her nose at your mother.

“Now I will have no more fighting.” Said the King and having satisfied his wife for the first time in their long marriage, he ambled off to bed.

As the crowd dispersed, Sir Criston Cole flanked the Queen and as a unit, the three of you marched from the room. Your mother, scarcely held together in Daemon’s embrace, gave one last warbling cry as you passed the threshold and disappeared, not to be seen again for nine long years.

You were kept that night in the Queen’s own quarters to thwart rescue or escape. Behind a bolted door and no less than three kings’ guards. And yet, that morning, upon waking with puffy eyes from silent tears and aching limbs from the harsh sitting room sofa, you found something that had not been there before.

A gift from Daemond, most assuredly, tucked under the pillow you had slept on. The handle was perhaps an inch too long for your small age, but the blade was curved and wicked sharp and would require little finesse to cause harm. Inlaid in the pommel was a single ruby, the size of your thumb and wonderfully smooth. Carved into the cross-guard flowing Valyrian script read valar morghūlis. (All men must die.)

You would call the dagger gaomilaksir, duty. You would carry it as a reminder of the promises you and your mother had made one another. One day, as Daemon had said, you would become her greatest weapon.

There had been few bright spots in your life as the Queen’s ward. So, few in fact, that you could count them on one hand.

One.

You could not fly. Such a thing would only encourage escape back to Dragonstone and your mother. But you could visit Laesuvion and watch him sweep through the clouds. He had grown much in your teenage years. Still lithe in build and elegant in frame, but more angular like an arrow strung tight. He did not take to Kings Landing, not in all your years trapped there. So used to the comfort of Dragonstone and your family’s own dragons, he often abandoned the Dragonpit entirely. Kept tethered to the Keep by your presence alone.

“Where is Laesuvion?” You were just shy of ten and two when you approached the Dragonkeeper Acolyte.

“Hunting, my lady.” He knocked his quarterstaff against the ground. “He flew north not three hours ago.”

“Do you not offer him food?”

The keeper lowered his head, “He refuses it, my lady.”

“Offer him better.”

“We give him our very best, lady. He is a magnificent but stubborn creature.”

“He is a dragon, not a creature.” You conjured up a playful grin. “And I am a princess, not a lady.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” The Acolyte blustered, “Shall I inform you upon his return?”

“That won’t be necessary,” You strode to his side and plunked yourself down to lean against the stone entrance. “I shall wait for his return here.”

And so, you did. Silently, for the better part of twenty minutes as the Acolyte threw furtive glances your way.

Until finally, “Truly, my lady. Your Highness. He could be hours still.”

Wonderful. You thought and cast a dazzling grin up at him. “Perhaps you ought to keep me better company then.”

And so, you began your mission. You charm the Dragonkeepers – Acolyte and Elder, all seventy-seven of them – who knew the princes and their dragons, their strengths and weaknesses. You befriend the maids, the scullery, the wet nurses, and the servants they bunk with. Piece by piece, inch by inch, you win back your mother's share of Kings Landing.

Two.

Strange though she was, your Aunt Heleana always welcomed you into her chambers. In your shared youth, she always had a critter clutched between her hands as if it were the most precious thing she owned. You are four and ten, a year younger than your aunt when she is forced to split her time between her menagerie of insects and the chubby masses of her twin babes.

“The young prince has lungs,” You smiled at Heleana as the wet nurse rocked a wailing Jaehaerys. “He will make glorious speeches when he is grown.”

“Only one.” She examined the creature in her hands. Today she favoured a centipede, passing Jaehaera onto you.

You had long since learned to ignore her ramblings, “The sweet Princess must be the wordsmith, then.”

“The fourth in an age.” Heleana startled as if only just noticing your presence. “Apologies, Hāedar. You wished to speak?” (Younger female sibling or cousin)

“No apologies necessary, Mandia.” (Older female sibling or cousin). The Valyrian word tasted foul. You had your own siblings on Dragonstone, those whom you had been stolen from and those whom you had yet to meet. But Heleana liked it when you pretended that you were not a prisoner, that you were her mother’s daughter and not her forcibly attained ward. And so you swallowed it with a smile, “Might we talk privately?”

Heleana startled again as she turned to the wet nurse. “Take the children to the nursery, Bria.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Bria gave an awkward curtsy, shuffled the still-wailing Jaehaerys to one side and received Jaehaera from your arms. Heleana turned to you expectantly as the trio disappeared through a side door.

“It is a sensitive matter I am afraid,” You eyed the centipede as it escaped her hands and crawled across her skirts. “I do not wish to cause offence.”

Heleana’s eyes pinched at the corners, “It is not such a terrible burden – to be a wife. Mostly he ignores you.”

“You misunderstand me,” You hurried. “I only wished to speak of your grandfather.”

“Not my brother?”

“Do you wish to speak of your husband?”

“No,” Heleana gave you a quizzical look. “I speak of Aemond, who will be your husband.”

“Aemond?” Your uncle who’s selfishness had trapped you here. One of Alicent’s precious children married to her living doll. The thought would have been hysterical were it not so frightening. Surely not.

“It is the natural progression of things. I was given to Aegon and now you to Aemond.” Heleana’s attention returned to the centipede. “One pairing to strengthen our house, another to mend its bonds. So says grandfather.”

“Oh Mandia. I am entrusted to your mother. There need be no marriage to bring me into the fold. We are family.” 

“Yes. So says mother.” Heleana stared. Not so blind as she seemed. “But grandfather always gets what he wants.”

And so, you are four years into your mission, having sat patiently by the Queen's side. Having listened and learned and noted those your mother can count on. Four years in and the time to begin quietly making moves had arrived with a head start from your oblivious Aunt.

But then you see the centipede crawl from her hands again and writhe across her skirt. And you think maybe Heleana’s warnings have more to do with where the critter is trying to lead her than it has to do with you.

Three.

It took you longer than you would like to admit to worm your way into Otto Hightower’s confidences – if there were such a thing.

You had quickly learned in your first year at the Keep that Alicent feared her father, distrustful of his greed and power lust. Not much unlike yourself, she had been sent into the greedy hands of a different house in pursuit of the Iron Throne. Were Otto not so blinded by his ambitions you might have begun to worry that Daemon’s strategy might ring familiar. But Lord Hightower’s strength was also his greatest weakness. So careful in his scheming, gently coaxing his will unto others, moving his pawns about the board, sacrificing all but himself, he could not see his tactics turned against him. Beyond your connection to Rhaenyra, you barely registered as a piece in the game.

Daemon had been right. Weak and a girl and not a threat. Not yet.

So, you worked tirelessly to endear yourself to Alicent. Just as you learned from her, you began to teach in turn. When you are in the room Otto Hightower dares not spin his lies about succession. When you appear around corners in search of your Queen-mother talk of hastening the king's condition ceases. When you are near, Alicent is safe. She begins to wear you like the expensive accessory you are, a decorative shield.

Hours trailing your Queen-mother to and from meetings of the small council, waiting patiently at her side as she sat in place of the King. Serving wine to fat and foolish lords.

And then finally, on the eve of your ten and fifth nameday, the Queen brings you along to the Hand's Tower.

“Father.” She greets.

“Alicent,” Otto brings you to his office, where a tea set for two lays steaming. “I see you have brought your shadow.”

The Queen barely glances your way as you serve her tea and then her father’s, before retreating to stand at her shoulder. She glares across her father’s desk, “This does concern her.”

“She is approaching her fifteenth year, two since her first blood. Time has well arrived for her to marry,” He stares directly at you then, “Have you any fondness for your uncle, Princess?”

“My lord, the Princes and I are often kept busy by our duties.” Your friends among the servants have divulged their schedules. You stay firmly away from drunken Aegon and selfish Aemond, remaining civil only with young Daeron.

“You must see reason.” Alicent implores her father. “They hold no affection for one another. Aegon and Heleana have already wed in the name of strengthening our family. To marry her would serve only to anger Rhaenyra.”

“And to bind her eldest daughter to us.” Interesting that he would say so openly in front of you. Perhaps you have been more effective in playing a Green than you had thought. “Aemond will be a good husband to her.”

“I have no doubt,” Alicent says and as silence stretches you suspect she is losing conviction; you have not saved her this time.

You clear your throat delicately, “If I may?”

“Of course, sweet pet.” Alicent reaches out to fuss with your hair. She likes it long and keeps its length to your hip despite how cumbersome it can be. Short hair is unbecoming, she claims.

You look to Otto in false deference, “My lord?”

“Very well.”

“I think,” You begin carefully. “Aemond and I may be of better use to you.”

“And how might that be?” He is condescending but you have his attention.

“When the time comes that grandsire passes on, I suspect the lords of the realm will need cause to back a claim to the Iron Throne. My Septa says that peace such as we have seen under his rule may bring unrest. I do not doubt that Aemond will make a fine and just husband. All I mean is that mayhaps it would be wise to keep us unwed until we may serve a greater purpose.”

No mention of your mother nor their ill-begotten plan for Aegon. Hightower's methods played against him.

“And when the time comes you will do this?” He demands.

“It is my duty to my house.”

He tilts his head as a predatory bird might. “You must swear it, to myself and to your Queen, upon your young brothers.”

To pause would mislay your ruse. To hesitate would be to sign your life away to Aemond Targaryen.

“I swear it, upon the lives of my brothers.”

He considered you for a moment, and then his daughter.

“You have done well with her, Alicent.” Your Queen-mother sighs as Otto Hightower stands. “Enjoy your tea, I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Perhaps you will be of more use than we originally suspected, Princess.”

Your first true victory. You will not be shackled to the Keep; you will be kept safe until your mother comes for you. Until such a time that you and Laesuvion can seek out your Promised.

Four.

The Queen held a strange fondness for you. Platinum-haired and purple-eyed, the spitting image of the Realm’s delight and perhaps the only trueborn among your siblings. She took pains to brush and braid your hair, dress you in green and flout you at court. Her perfect tamed Targaryen. Who would eat from her hand, take tea by her side, sit prim and silent as her Queen-mother decorated her. You were her walking-talking glimmering triumph over Rhaenyra.

At ten, Alicent’s obsession stole you from your mother. At ten and four, it protected you from a hasty marriage. And now, at ten and eight, it was your path to freedom.

“Mother?”

Oh, how Alicent loved it when you called her that. One more thing ripped from Rhaenyra’s thieving hands. Alicent pushed into your room with a tired facsimile of a smile and took the seat across from you by the roaring hearth.  

“My sweet pet.” She was dressed head to toe in full regalia. “I am so sorry to have missed you today.”

You tucked a piece of scrap paper into the book you had been reading, buying yourself time to school your features into innocent confusion. “As am I. My door has been locked. I am sorry I could not come to you.”

“A precaution – one that I fought.” Alicent reached for your hair, running her fingers through its length. “But we cannot trust you to betray your mother. Regardless of the years you have spent in our care.”

“I do not understand, mother.” But you do.

“Your grandsire is dead.”

You close your eyes, “Aegon is king.”

“Yes.”

“You did not wish for this.”

“I wish Viserys were still a living corpse. That he would outlive us all so that none could claim his cursed throne. Not Aegon. Not Rhaenyra. Not my father.”

“That is not a solution.”

She tugs at your hair harshly, “Foolish pet, there is none.”

You blink harshly. Your eyes scarcely holding back tears. For the first time since you left your mother's embrace, you are truly scared. No longer are you the meek girl who walks in the Queen’s shadow. Given liberties and protection in a twisted echo of her love for Rhaenyra. You are a living embodiment of what House Targaryen will be to House Hightower. A pretty little puppet kept from your dragon, cloistered away like some trophy, scrambling for a scrap of power to delude yourself that you have some control.

“What is to become of our house?” You whisper.

“Your mother and Prince Daemon remain on Dragonstone. No blood has yet been shed.” Alicent brushed your hair softly behind one ear. “We have sent Aemond to Storm’s End to do as you once suggested. To offer himself to one of the Baratheon girls, that Lord Borros might see reason and acknowledge Aegon as rightful King.”

Good, there were those beyond the Keep who remained steadfast and loyal. It was time to return to your mother, then. To tell her all you had learned these last eight years. To name her allies and set Daemon loose upon her foes. Now was the time.

“What of my brothers?”

Alicent leant back, “Scouts have spotted Vermax flying north likely as an envoy to rally support among the lords.”

“How could they have mobilized so quickly? Was Aegon not crowned mere hours ago?”

“He was, indeed.” Alicent’s gazed into the fire. “The Lady Rhaenys was not so welcoming of solitude as you have been.”

“She has gone to Dragonstone?”

“She has.”

“And no one has come for me?”

“They have not.”

For a moment you each stared listlessly into the hearth. When Alicent shifts back to face you, she has a letter clutched in her hand. It is crisp and of fine quality but most strikingly, stamped with the King’s seal.

“I am under no delusions,” Alicent says softly, mournfully. “You can no more contest your mother's claim than I can Aegon’s. We are matching pieces in this game, I think.”

Your fear swells, “Mother.”

“Please, my sweet girl.” She smooths the hair atop your head. “You must do me one last favour as my ward.”

“I don’t understand.”

She presses the letter into your hands. “Jacaerys will fly first to the Vale, to treat with House Arryn and then to Winterfell. You will take this and beat him there. You will do as you swore to do those years ago.”

“I ca–”

“Listen!” She jerked you by your shoulders. “You must listen. You will wed Lord Stark. He is as fine a match as any. The north is loyal to Rhaenyra and will remain steadfast, you will be well treated. You must go, with this missive from the King, his final wish to send you north to snow and safety. In return for your hand, they will take no part in the fighting, they will protect you as their own, until such a time that the victor is crowned. Do you understand me, pet?”

“The King never cared for me.” You said foolishly.

“And yet, with his dying breath, he spoke of you and of Aegon. That you would carry his legacy, that you would see out his dream to the North. That Prince Aegon was Promised to this kingdom. You must believe me. You must do this for your grandsire.”

“I do believe you mother.” She was deluded. “I will do what must be done.”

Alicent has offered you one gilded cage for another. You will not be fool enough to fall into this one. You will find Laesuvion and be gone in the dead of night. You tuck the King’s missive into your book and smile at the Queen.

“Shall we call for tea, mother? You have much to tell me. I hear I have missed a coronation.”

Five.

You shape your fifth and final joy as the Queen Alicent’s Ward whilst escaping her clutches. You take three sharp detours on your path to the Dragonpit. First, to the chamber of the small council where you snatch the King's ball of quartz, you will make a gift of this to your mother. Then to the creche where the Keeper’s turned a blind eye as you pilfered three precious Dragon eggs. Finally, you find yourself ascending the steps of the Lord Hand’s Tower. To take the Dowager Queen from the Greens would be the greatest gift to your mother and her cause. But Alicent, despite her many faults, had been as kind to you as one might be toward a favourite pet. And so you do as a pet would – you do not bite the hand that fed you. Instead, you do both your Queen-mother and the woman that birthed you, a favour. You find Otto Hightower asleep in his study and you pass onto him your final gift from Daemon Targaryen.

You leave gaomilaksir in the heart of Hightower as you flee north, your duty complete.

(Part 2 : The Winter Keep)

[juliavilu1]

Pregnancy Headcanons - Lucerys Velaryon x Reader

I would like to dedicate this to @madame-fear. This is my first time writing something, hope you all like it. 🩷

When you informed Lucerys you were with child, he was speechless at first, but not surprised. After all, the prince already suspected it was the cause of your illness since he had been present during his mother’s pregnancies.

Luke couldn’t contain the smile on his face upon hearing the news, though. He secretly had been craving to build a family with you. So he promised he would never leave your side to make sure you and the baby were alright.

Said and done. Even if he had other duties as a prince, Lucerys would always make sure to have time with his wife. When you were feeling too tired, Luke would ask a maid to prepare a bath for you to relax. He would accompany you on your walks at the beach, his fingers interlocked with yours. And whenever you were craving for something, your husband would happily give it to you.

One day, Lucerys would find you looking at yourself in the mirror, wearing his house colors, while you stroked your swollen belly. The sight made a big smile appear on his face and suddenly the worries of the day vanished, only his wife and baby mattered.

Arrax would get very protective of you, after all he sensed the feelings his rider had towards you. So everytime the pearl-colored dragon saw you, he would come closer, red eyes scrutinizing your pregnant belly. Then, his snout would nudge at your stomach, which made you and Luke chuckle. Lucerys admired the scene before him, never getting tired of seeing his lovely wife interacting with his dragon.

At night, Lucerys whispered words in High Valyrian to the baby as you ran your fingers through his curls. When sleeping, his arms would embrace your form and hold the weight of your belly, which made you sigh in relief every time.

Of course, Luke would pick a dragon egg for his child. He and Jace always did that with their brothers, and now the moment has come for him to choose one for his baby.

When the guards informed Lucerys that his wife had begun her labors, he’d immediately stop what he was doing and rush to where you were. Maester Gerardys would tell him to wait outside of the chambers. But before Luke could protest, your scream calling for his name echoed through the hall and he rushed over to your side.

He’d hold your hand the whole time, do massages on your back to soothe you and try to relieve the pain, press wet clothes on your forehead… Anything that was at his reach he would do.

Your back was pressed to his as you pushed with all the strength you had left in your body. One last push and the room soon was filled with the baby’s piercing cry.

It was the most beautiful sound Lucerys had ever heard. The cry of his son, his little dragon… The maid assisting the birth cleaned the baby and passed the child to you, wrapped in blankets.

Your son was a copy of Lucerys. Green eyes, dark curls covering his head…. He was so small, but his hold so strong on your finger. Luke couldn’t help but chuckle.

That night, as his wife rested in a deep slumber, Lucerys held the small boy close to his chest and swore to love and protect him at all costs.

[ranticore]

I wanted to keep drawing some pern dragon stuff because I'm now writing a full AU set in weyr but I didn't want to put this stuff on my main blog or patreon due to it being basically for my own reference, though i felt others would like it too! so here is My Take On Dragon Wings By Type...

It's no secret I love drawing bird wings and prefer them a lot over traditional dragon wings. Growing up, I read the pern books featuring cover art of dragonfly-like wings with lots of little translucent panels, which I always loved. So I thought I'd try to nail down some wing shapes & structures by blending those two things i like together. I am aware dragons fly by telekinesis but I prefer a more realistic type of creature design so I will be choosing to ignore that fact. I do not care about strict canon compliance but I do like to keep some of that framework there as well, for fun.

The wing is made up of three main sails, as well as a propatagium sail (in front of the elbow). They are relatively polymorphic and can expand or contract to an extent to change the shape of the wing in response to flight demands, like the wing of an airliner. The trailing edge can expand and the slots between the spars of the 1st wingsail can deepen or become shallower (where those are a feature). The main structural matrix is opaque, while the membranous 'sails' are translucent and let light through like stained glass. These are a bilayer of membrane with air sandwiched between, which forms part of the air sac & respiratory system.

It makes sense for the original engineers of dragons to diversify dragon wing types by colour so that when fighting Thread, there's a dragon for every conceivable aerial job.

[individual descriptions under the cut]

Queens have the longest wings, though the largest bronzes can rival them for surface area. Gold wings are high endurance - a queen can fly further than any other dragon in active level flight, leaving even the swiftest bronzes behind if they can't muster up the energy reserves to catch her. She is an effective flier at all elevations and can pass very low over terrain without issue as well; she is an expert at taking advantage of the ground effect, where extra lift is generated within one half of a wingspan above land. This way, she can pass low below the main wings fighting Thread to catch any stragglers without expending too much energy. However, she is not very agile and may need a bit of a run-up or cliff-edge to get airborne.

Bronzes are suited for command positions during Threadfall, rising highest and maintaining that altitude effortlessly by soaring on thermals. From this vantage point they can easily survey the wings of riders below and make tactical decisions to direct the tide of battle. They have the size and stamina to chase queens, but might find it difficult to keep up on the flat, so they continually select for fitter hatchlings as only the best manage to mate. It takes a very clever and agile bronze to catch a green, if they are so inclined.

Browns are swift, highly agile, and the fastest vertical fliers, ideal for diving through the Thread mass from top to bottom while the other types pass horizontally. During earlier Passes, browns were capable of using their speed to catch queens, but as queen & bronze endurance gradually increased, browns struggle to keep up if they haven't managed to immediately catch their mate in the starting scrum, which is unlikely due to the bulkier bronze dragons being able to shove the browns aside.

Blues are fast on the flat and nicely manoeuvrable, with enough endurance to last a full Threadfall. Good all-rounders with a characteristic vertical take-off, they work best in the horizontal plane in battle but really they can do a little bit of everything. They often beat browns to catch greens, being very precise in flight and almost as manoeuvrable as their green mates.

Greens make up for their low stamina with their extreme manoeuvrability. Their short and elliptical wings let them turn on a dime, hover, and even fly backwards if they are sufficiently skilled. They have the fastest wingbeats, flying with a distinct thrumming sound. Of all the types they are least likely to be hit by a stray Thread, but they tire easily on the flat and have no soaring ability at all, often tapping out midway through battle in favour of replacements. In battle, greens excel at catching odd and skewed clumps of Thread that don't fall as predicted, or ones that are missed by the other riders. Green mating flights are a whole different beast to gold mating flights, where extreme aerial acrobatics are favoured instead of endurance and altitude, and these flights may be over within seconds. You need to be able to withstand a Lot of G-force to be a green rider.

[just-some-user-hunny]

The Cannibal dragon headcanons ...

(art credit for middle image, ig: dracalyss)

. Cannibal is a huge dragon, the largest of all wild-dragons, but I can't see him being any larger than Vhagar- let alone Balerian the black dread. I imagine he'd be a tad bit smaller than Vhagar- just about. His build is bulky and scarred, a thick neck of scarred obsidian scales, a set of jagged jet-black spikes that run along his spine, and covered in thick taut muscle and hardened flesh. His eyes are a blazing emerald green, teeth sharp and jagged like a shark.

. I also love the idea of him having this 'grinning' look on his face, like a crocodile or the indoraptor from Jurassic world. (His personality screams indoraptor to me, just a mean guy with a nasty lil goblin grin). And with his torn jaw and exposed teeth, it makes him look even creepier and menacing. There's something way too...human about it. Expressive in both his grin and mannerisms.

He's definitely a stare-er too. Something about a monstrously big dragon being unnervingly quiet and observing is uncomfortable, which is exactly the vibes he gives off.

. I like to visualize him as a very 'wild' looking dragon, like how'd you imagine a stray feral cat. His scales are rough and weather-worn, covered in large claw-like scars from fighting and hunting other dragons throughout his life. There's also fanart of him missing a huge chunk of flesh around his jaw and mouth, baring his teeth, which I think looks really cool :) as a young dragon he probably picked off the small and easy dragons, ones that wouldn't put up much of a fight. But as he grew in age and size, he would probably grow cocky and try his luck with larger prey. Due to him being an absolute monster, I'd imagine he'd often come up on top- but not without earning a few disfiguring scars in return.

. Despite never being bonded to a rider before, nor being ridden before in his life (he'd scoff at the mere thought of some little measly human thinking that they could climb upon his back and treat him like a pony), once he bonded with you it was like an instant connection. He is still a little edgy and unpredictable, but there is one thing for certain and that is he is always as gentle as possible with you. He'll press his body into the dirt if it allows you to climb on and off safely, craning his claws and jaw for you to step upon.

. He wouldn't wear a saddle, so you'd have to learn to ride him bareback. Thankfully he has many jagged scales and spikes to cling onto, but to be on the safe side, you'd have special riding gear to wear to help cling on. Rougher gloves and boots and trousers, it certainly helps, even if it's just a little. If anything the fact you ride bareback is a testament of your bond, showing how close and in sync you both are.

. The biggest issue with him would be his... diet, and how he'd have to adapt once he begins to hang around dragonstone more often. I'd imagine he wouldn't eat much, adding to the unpredictability of him and when he would hunt, but as his rider you'd have to supply him at least livestock every week to keep him happy and saturated. Cows, horses, large livestock due to his sheer size.

. He flies quite similar to Vhagar. His form is heavy, and although strong, he is lumbering.

Although at his age now he'd be a rather ancient dragon, he wouldn't really show his age besides a few moments where he just wants to curl up in his little cave upon his ✨private island ✨ to take a nap. In his youth he was most likely a very quick dragon, like a stalking panther striking upon his food. (Being younger dragons and hatchlings). I've seen someone write about him being a silent hunter (I'll reblog and credit once I find them), but that's such a neat idea for his character! He's survived from hunting his own kind, so he's going to hunt differently. Smarter.

. His fire in the books is described as green, and that's just too cool to swap it out with normal fire. Blazing emerald flames that engulf earth and prey, unnatural and mystical. It'd be very distinctive as well, whoever finds their fields or flocks of trees burning and crackling in a blaze of green fire, they'd know that the cannibal had just been there.

. Personality wise, I feel like he'd be cruel and sadistic, but wise and grumpy. Probably cocky as well, for having survived on his for so long and through unconventional means.

He's not a hardheaded bully, he's very tactical when it comes to facing challenges, but at this point he's such a huge threat he may be blinded by his own ego and emotions. If something were to happen to his rider, he'd make sure you'd get avenged. He's ride or die, quite literally. He'll burn everything down for you, because he feels strongly for the one human he feels he can trust. His grief is not silent or tearful, it's angry.

[kiwi-on-ice]

Halloween couples costumes with Overwatch men + women with fem!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Not fully smut but definitely nsfw elements in some

Notes: Happy Halloween!! <3 and thank you all so much for your support throughout kinktober, it’s been stressful but so fun! Hope you all have a spooky day, love from kiwi xx

Women:

Ashe:

Inspired by @ovwechoes she’d definitely love to go as Poison Ivy, with you as her Harley Quinn, buying you both the best quality costumes. Makes the perfect distraction, people are too busy staring at you both unashamedly to notice her gang pick-pocketing them and robbing a few shops before you disappear into crowd of costumes.

She buys you Harley's original jester outfit (the tight leather has her blushing just a little, as her hand won’t be able to help wandering over your curves). She wears a green corset, with tights and gloves that feel so lovely to the touch, complete with fake leaves that go around her. Every time your eyes go to her cleavage, she tilts your chin up with a teasing smirk, telling you ‘my eyes are up here, sugar.’

Junker Queen:

Loves Halloween, she’d definitely want to dress SCARY. Would want to see the slight fear on people’s faces, so she goes as a vampire. But she whites out her face, putting red contacts in her eyes, and covers herself in fake blood. She looks horrifyingly sexy, in a tight black outfit fitted with a cloak, and even fake fangs.

When she shows you your costume…or lack thereof you’re confused. But then with glee she tells you that you’re clearly the vampire’s plaything, the tasty morsel she drags around. That’s why you’re in a short white nightdress, with lacy stockings and garters. She paints red marks on your neck and wrists like you’ve been bitten (and even offers to leave some real marks, for the sake of realism of course)

Kiriko:

Another one who loves Halloween, and you both scroll through Pinterest for hours collecting ideas before you decide on what to wear to the Halloween party you’d been invited to.

You go as Daphne and Velma, and you both do a coin toss to decide who gets who. She gets Daphne, dressing in a tight purple dress with white go-go boots, whereas you get an orange jumper and red skirt, with some black rimmed glasses to complete it.

Kiriko insists on pulling up your long socks for you, kissing up your leg to tease you. You get her back though, running your hands down her dress under the guise of smoothing it down, so you can feel her up. On second thoughts…maybe you both are gonna be late for the party.

Mercy:

Surprisingly can be a little self conscious about dressing up, despite how much she actually loves it. So having you also be enthusiastic helps her a lot. You show her lots of pictures, but she seems the most curious about Kim Possible and Shego. You assume she wants to be Kim, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

So on the night, your jaw drops to the floor when you see her in the skintight black and green body suit, blonde hair tucked away underneath a curled black wig. She looks stunning, as she tells you she wanted to dress as the opposite of how she normally presents, an angel into a demon so to speak.

But when she holds your waist where your black crop top ends, your knees almost buckle out how gorgeous she is. And it makes your eyes wander to attempt to find how exactly she zipped it up…

Moira:

She’d laugh at you teasingly for how much you want to match with her, but she allows you to pick her costume. For once, you can dress her up like your own doll, and dress her you do.

You pick Rapunzel and Flynn rider, with you wearing a shorter version of her purple dress, with a dainty crown, and her in as close to the film’s costume as you can. You practically drool as you see her (and you’ll probably have to show her the film, since she’s clueless as to who she’s meant to be)

Although afterwards, she’ll make teasing comments about ‘stealing’ your heart away before grabbing your crown and holding it above your head, delighting when you attempt to jump and grab it.

Sombra:

Oh man she loves Halloween; and you both go all out every year. This year, she gets the idea to do beetlejuice and Lydia. She creates a ‘sexy’ beetlejuice outfit, with the black and white striped jacket and top, with a short skirt and sheer tights. She does her makeup gorgeously, with a black smokey eye and matching lipstick, painting green patches on her face just like the film. You have to forcibly stop yourself from ogling her, before she shows you your costume.

It’s Lydia’s red wedding dress, but cut shorter which makes you roll your eyes playfully. She insists on doing your makeup for you, giving her an excuse to get close to your face so she can paint the red lipstick precisely.

Tracer:

When you both are invited to the Overwatch halloween party, she knows that she wants to do a matching costume with you. She's a pretty crafty person, so she makes it from scratch for you both.

You're Cosmo and Wanda, with Lena having made little headbands that have a crown on top, as well as a star magic wand. You wear a wig, but Lena surprised you by actually dyeing her hair, making you giggle when she emerges from the bathroom with a goofy grin. All throughout the party, you both pretend to grant other people their wishes, having a blast.

Widowmaker:

While she loves Halloween before she was experimented on, now she looks at it slightly different. Despite her usual outfits, she feels less desirable than she did before, her blue skin something she can’t seem to get past.

But she wants to move past it, for you at least, so she agrees to dress up as whatever you’d like. You dress her as marceline, with you as princess bubblegum. She laughs at the slightly juvenile outfit choices, but she can’t deny you look just lovely in your pink dress, and she can’t help but fiddle with the crown on your head. You tell her breathlessly that she looks beautiful, and she gives you a teasing spin. That night you both are practically joined at the hip, and hey if her hand slips down a few times, who’s gonna stop her?

Zarya:

She’s a little shy about dressing up. When you approach the subject about you both having a couple theme, she’s hesitant. After all, there’s not a lot of buff women in media in general, so she’s afraid of looking a little silly wearing a costume for a character that doesn’t look like her. Despite all your reassurances, you know it’s something you won’t be able to shift her on, so you get a better idea.

Booting your game console up, you make her play the last of us with you, and as soon as she sees Abby, you know your plan worked. So you both rock up to the overwatch party and Abby and Ellie, grinning as the fake blood you applied to her face really makes her eyes pop.

Men:

Baptiste:

It was while you both were doing a movie marathon that you mention the upcoming overwatch Halloween party. You both happened to be watching blade, and after remarking how hot you think he’d look in leather, the idea is sealed.

You knew you were right when you finally saw his costume, the black leather making him look alluring and dangerous. You were dressed as Abigail from the sequel, a crop top squeezing your chest and a fake bow and arrow strapped to your back. As you make your feelings known, he pulls you to his chest and whispers the filthiest things you’ve ever heard before teasingly winking at you, explaining that the taxi is waiting outside. It’s gonna be a long party…

Cole Cassidy:

Jokingly suggests you going as the cowgirl to his cowboy, but you pout and tell him you want to go as an actual costume, which includes him dressing up. He has a think, and having just watched death note with Genji, suggests Light and Misa. You beam and start to prepare the outfit on your phone, and he sighs in relief that you didn’t seem to pick up on the fact he suggested it so he can see how you look in the ensemble.

And god is it worth the wait, when you come out wearing that black corset, stockings barely reaching your plush thighs as you give him a spin that nearly has you flashing him with how short the skirt is. Although you’re just as affected, seeing him in a nicely pressed white suit and tie, strong hands clutching a fake copy of the death note. He insists on making you sit in his lap, running his hand up the corset to feel the material, before you feel just how much he likes how you look.

Doomfist:

Hadn’t even thought about Halloween, too busy to have spared it a passing glance. So in the days leading up to the holiday, you both realise that you need to sort out a costume. You’re a little stumped, but he has an idea.

Men in black was always one of his guilty pleasure films, and dressing in a suit and sunglasses was certainly easy. Although seeing you in a tight suit he’d had custom made for your measurements was certainly making his thoughts stray as you arrive. The whole night, he keeps making excuses for you to dance with him, drink with him, be with him.

Genji:

Secretly a massive nerd, has several costumes he wants to try. But he finally settles on spider-man, thinking it’ll be more identifiable than the other obscure costumes he has in mind.

He shows you his idea for you, and is delighted when you agree, and dress up as spider-gwen, tight white outfit exentuating your body and making his heart rate increase. All throughout the overwatch party, he’ll teasingly pull down the hood of your costume to get your attention. But with each playful glare you give him back, he has to force himself to not get too flustered, thinking about you giving him that glare while climbing into his lap…

Hanzo:

He initially scoffs at the concept of dressing up, seeing it as a childish activity. But he can’t seek to deny his beloved of anything, not when you look up at him with puppy eyes and beg so prettily for him to share this experience with you.

That’s how he finds himself looking at the mirror, observing him dressed as the phantom of the opera. He tries not to be a prideful man in terms of vanity, opting to focus his pride on his skills, not his looks. But he can’t deny he looks good tonight, the mask covering half his face making him look like a mysterious danger, but not one someone would shy away from. And when he sees you as Christine, your white dress glistening in the low light, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand in his gloved one and plant a kiss upon the back of it seductively. He may not be a man who emphasises his seductive qualities, but he doesn’t mind playing the part for tonight at least.

Junkrat:

Loves dressing up! Or to be more specific, loves you dressing up. Always gets off on seeing you in some sort of cosplay or costume, but you also want to see him dressed up for a change, so it's your idea to come to a compromise that'll effect you both.

After doing his makeup, and forcing him into the outfit you bought him (he thinks it's scratchy, but he'll bare it for you), you turn him to the mirror to see you've dressed him as Captain Jack Sparrow. He laughs manically when he sees himself, doing a crude voice impression to make you giggle too. You excuse yourself to the other room to put your costume on, and when you come back in dressed as Elizabeth Swan, specifically in her pirate costume, he practically drools like a puppy.

Lifeweaver:

Is delighted that you want to do a matching couple costume with him, and when you tell him your idea, he’s overjoyed.

You choose Morticia and Gomez Addams, explaining that how Gomez treats Morticia is how he treats you, so it fits! And when he gets the costume on, dear god. You love him in it, the dark colours a contrast to the usual colour palette he has.

And wow, when you come out in the tight fitting black dress, he nearly collapses. He immediately does a reference to the movie, grabbing your hand and kissing up your arm to your neck, finally to your ruby lips. You both go where you’ve been invited, but he whispers promises in your ear that tonight, he’ll ravage you in the way a gorgeous woman like you deserves.

Lucio:

Loves Halloween!! Loves the spookiness!! If anything, he’s the one to suggest a couple costume. Wants something with makeup and sfx and gore and guts and everything.

You both go as zombies, and you go all out on the disgusting makeup. When you walk the streets on the way to your party, people actually cross the street to avoid you both, something you giggle at as soon as they’re out of earshot. But to tease him, you decided to have your zombie wear tight denim shorts, so the whole time you both are partying and having fun, he has to train his eyes to look at the fake blood spattered over your cheeks as opposed to how delicious your ass looks.

Mauga :

Any excuse for a good time, he’s down, so he lets you control his costume. But he says he wants something comfortable, doesn’t want anything that’ll hinder him. So you give him a plaid shirt and jeans, telling him the mask will be the main focus. He’s a little confused at the wolf mask you give him, but you tell him to sit tight and wait until you return.

And when you do…it’s almost like he gets into character with the way he growls at the sight. You’re wearing a red riding hood outfit, corset perfectly exemplifying your figure as the frilled white shirt shows off just enough cleavage to leave him wanting more. With his big hands, he gently takes the red hood and moves it from your head, before lifting you into his arms for a kiss. All throughout the party, his eyes are firmly on you, making sure nobody gets any ideas to play with his girl. And afterwards well…he shows you just how beastly he can be.

Reaper:

Doesn’t care for dressing up, so you attempt to bribe him by saying he can just wear his normal mercenary outfit but change the mask.

And when you pull out the scream mask, he isn’t a fool. He knows what you’re doing as he slips it on, and your cheeks immediately flush at the sight. He leans into it, walking over to you before crowding you against the door, placing his hand by the side of your head and tilting his own as he asks in his raspy voice ‘do you like scary movies?’

After that…well, you both are very much late to the talon Halloween gathering, you hadn’t even gotten your costume on yet. You quickly had dressed up, but all the while his hands were around your waist, trying to convince you to ditch the party and instead have a round two with him <3

Reinhardt:

Another one who’s delighted that you want to do a couples costume, thinks it’s so cute of you to ask. But he also takes it as a competition. You both have to be the best dressed!

You both spend ages discussing ideas before you settle on one that he likes. In all honesty, you’re surprised he could actually find a Batman costume that actually fit his huge frame. But still, he looks amazing, the dark costume emphasising his muscles.

But my god when he sees you as catwoman, curves squeezed into tight leather, his knees nearly give way. Huge hands immediately wrap around your waist, brain racing a mile a minute as he attempts to compliment you in a way that doesn’t sound crude. Please tell him you don’t mind…but he fears your costume will end up ripped if you enable him too much.

Bonus venture time:

Venture:

Obviously they're excited when you tell them you want to do a couple costume...until you pull out your phone. Then they're rolling their eyes playfully and passionately explaining 'actually babe, Indiana Jones is a very poor representation of an archaeologist! I mean he doesn't even do desk based assessments before partaking in an excavation-'

But you're convincing, so that's how on Halloween night you're feeling up their muscles over the tight brown leather jacket, before playfully flicking the hat atop their head. You're dressed as Lara Croft, the tank top pushing your tits enough that their eyes are practically glued to your chest.

Although they need to get you both to the party, so they playfully get their fake whip and wrap it around your waist, dragging you out the door as you erupt in a fit of giggles.