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jeonginsleftcheek · 4 months ago

Text

The sun to me

Chapter VII. Listen.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

word count: 7.3k words

chapter summary: if you have the ability to listen closely, you can even hear the flowers grow.

warnings: just a few angsty thoughts

~ Masterlist for the series

~ next part

🩷 Camellia - passion, desire, fascination.

It's only on special days that you don't open your shop, and you can do it since you know everyone's schedules and needs, anniversaries and birthdays.

And today is a special day. You're taking Hyunjin to one of your other favorite places on the island except the little hidden cove. Your heart is giddy in your chest, you feel like a petal swirling in the wind constantly, never once stopping as the sound of his laughter lifts you up into heights you've never even dreamed of before.

"Hiii!"- you wave as he walks towards you, this time a few minutes earlier than he's supposed to, wearing a big smile on his face that you mirror with an identical smile of your own.

"Hiii!"- he greets equally as enthusiastically.

"Are you ready to climb?"- you chuckle, checking if he has his climbing shoes on.

"Yeah, Isaac had some shoes to lend. I think they were his son's or something."- Hyunjin grimaces and you nod.

"They'll be put to a good use."- you say with an unrelenting smile.

You make your way to the other side of the island, both of you ready and excited to climb a semi-large hill that was the highest peak on the land.

You've climbed it a million times, legs aching and lungs out of breath as you stood atop the hill, but the view was worth every single step taken up.

"I might be a little out of shape."- Hyunjin makes an almost digusted looking face as the hill looms above the two of you.

"Same here. We will die on the hill together."- you add with a snicker and he laughs a little.

"I hope we find a good reason to die for."- he shrugs with a raised eyebrow and you chuckle.

"That's grim."- you shake your head as the two of you start making your way up.

The beginning is always the most forgiving part, when you first set foot on the ground, the strength you've gathered before starting to climb is what carries your legs upwards.

"You seem to know your way around here pretty well."- Hyunjin follows you on the beaten path, beautiful trees adorning it and his trusty camera is there to capture the nature's beauty and the sweetness of you.

The morning air is crisp and fresh as the birds sing above your heads, a light breeze caressing your skin and running through your hair.

"Yeah, my mom used to take me here ever since I was little, we'd pick all the different flowers that grew here and make a little bouquet. She'd always tell me what each flower is called, that was a given, always a lesson in it."- you say. "But, I climbed it many times alone too."

"Weren't you scared of climbing the hill alone? I mean, I'd be a little scared if I like fell or something and no one was there to help me."

"I literally became a mountain goat from climbing this hill so many times. My feet know the way with my eyes closed."- you say and Hyunjin laughs a little. "And I'm used to doing things alone. It's weird being here with you."

"A good weird, I hope."- Hyunjin smiles at you expectantly, with his brows lifted and his dimples deep on his rosy cheeks.

"Sure."- you teasingly wiggle your eyebrows.

The forest gets more dense the more you climb up, the middle of the journey is always the thickest to go through, right before everything culminates into one sunny peak.

Hyunjin breathes hard behind you, stopping to lean down, his hands planted above his knees, looking up at you with a frowny face. You chuckle at him and he lets out a breath.

"Sorry, I'm kinda dying over here."- he says breathily.

"Don't worry, we can continue when you're done dying."- you joke and he chuckles as he grabs his water, gulping down on the refreshing liquid.

"For real, we can sit down for a moment if you want to."- you point to a bench with a table near by. "They put these here for a reason."

"Sure, I'd like that."- he says and the two of you sit down so you take the fruit salad you prepared out of your backpack.

"Oh fruit! That's refreshing."- Hyunjin smiles happily and you giggle at him as he takes out his favorite thermos bottle full of coffee.

"I have a spare cup."- he says and you nod.

"Great, we have breakfast."- you chuckle and Hyunjin pours the coffee into the two metal cups, as you take out two plastic forks you had packed.

The two of you start munching on the fruit and enjoying the silence. Hyunjin is sitting next to you and you can't help but notice him slowly and progressively getting closer to you.

You have no idea if he's doing it on purpose or if it's the force of the magnetic field that had appeared between your souls and bodies that's also pulling you in towards him.

Electricity runs down your spine as his knee presses on yours slightly, even the smallest touch is enough to send your body into overdrive, making you remember how you enjoyed yourself while thinking about him.

Your core throbs and embarassment washes over you as you look at his face and his cheeks seem to wear a deep red color too.

"Isaac taught me some whittling."- Hyunjin tries to avoid any kind of awkwardness creating around you, dissipating it into thin air with a nonchalant expression.

"What did you make?"

"A few things, mostly animals. He's making me his student."- Hyunjin chuckles, the movement shaking his knee against yours and rattling your bones awake. "And I mean, he's a good mentor, really. He also told me about his wife and son. The complete story."

"Yes, it's actually really sad. But, I mean it's partly his fault. Not his son dying, to clarify, Leo was always depressed as he probably told you, but his wife leaving him; it takes two people to build a good, strong relationship."

"I do agree with that, except I kinda know how he felt, the only difference between me and him is that he was happy about what he was doing and I'm not. That's why I'm sitting here with you instead of being off somewhere making a fool out of myself. I don't think I'd ever let myself come to what he came to and I'm not excusing his behaviour. It's just that he seems like a good man and I feel bad that his life was like that."- Hyunjin clarifies, as he munches on the sliced orange, his lips pursed even more when he talks like that, making you swallow the saliva gathering in your throat.

They look so inviting to you in that moment, plump and saccharine, promising a love so gentle and familiar. One that burns deep in your heart and never ceases, one that has burned through your entire being for centuries, maybe in another life, maybe in another galaxy far away, maybe on another plane of existence.

Hyunjin is everything.

Everything inside you and around you is made out of him or he is made out of everything, his fingerprints like circles on a tree stump, his eyes like the stars adorning the sky at night, his veins like the roots of your flowers, blossoming in your garden.

You wish to get at least one taste of his being, but you know that if you do, you will become addicted and never be able to turn away again.

The thought of something like that scares you down to the very depths of your tired soul. What ifs are swimming around your head, every negative thought picking at your brain and not letting you enjoy the simple moment you're in.

"... and then I told him that I really can't do that because there are some policies regarding those kind of exhibitions but the man was so insistant. Like, Charlie almost called the police on him, he really wanted to get a restraining order against him."- Hyunjin talks and you realize you haven't even been listening to him.

"Wow, some people never give up."- you shake your head at what you last heard, feeling bad that you got distracted by your own mind.

"I have a lot of horror stories involving people like that. I try to avoid them but my manager always pushes me to go to those parties. I'm sick of it all. Really."

"I know."- you nod.

"I'm probably annoying talking about myself all the time, whining about everything."- Hyunjin smiles apologetically and you chuckle.

"No no, I like listening to you. Sometimes you need to vent."- you say and he agrees.

You sit at the table as you finish your coffee, moving onto more light themes again.

As you continue to make you way up, a whirlwind of memories climbs up with you, all the years as you've grown and walked up with your mother, later on your own and both you and Hyunjin get lost in your thoughts, the last ounces of energy that you carry within are dancing you up the hill in a haze.

It's like that last part of the journey takes everything out of you but as the view of the entire island and the world beyond it starts appearing before your eyes, you slowly come to your senses.

Hyunjin and you climb up all the way to the highest rock, just to stand on it and breathe for a few silent moments.

Enraptured in the beauty of it all, Hyunjin's hands are automatically on his camera as he lifts it up and takes a few photos.

"Wow."- he says. "Wow."

"I know right?"- you chuckle after drinking some water.

"I think this is the most beautiful view I've ever seen, worthy of a painting."

"Well, I hope you brought your sketchbook. I- um, I brought mine."- you say sheepishly and Hyunjin's head snaps towards you, his hair flying around his face.

"Really?! Oh my god, that is so exciting!"- you laugh, not expecting that reaction. "We can draw together."- he smiles so sweetly and softly, his eyes all sparkly and you wish to etch that look on his face in your mind forever.

"Yeah, let's sit under that tree, I brought a blanket that I use for picnics."- you say and Hyunjin giggles, following you.

There's no one around, no one except the comforting nature as the two of you sit under a big tree, the expanse of the island in front of your eyes.

"There's Isaac's house! And your flower shop! And Bennet's restaurant!"- Hyunjin points excitedly and you use the moment to grab his camera that he put aside and snap pictures of him.

Hyunjin is used to the lens of the camera being on him but as he turns to look at you smiling at the picture you just took of him, something tugs at his heart.

You reach the camera towards him and he looks at the picture of himself, pointing towards something and a wide smile across his lips. The pose is so natural and he realizes the difference between some detached person taking a picture of his good angle for the press, to sell the paintings, sell the artist, sell the lie; and between someone who actually cares for him.

"What?"- you chuckle embarassingly as Hyunjin stares at you.

Before you can react, he lifts the camera up and snaps a pic of you.

You both chuckle as he puts it down and grabs his sketchbook.

"What are you gonna sketch?"- he asks as you also grab yours.

"I don't know yet."- you say as you turn the pages.

"I want to paint the view of the island so I'll sketch that first."- he says.

"Can't wait to see it."- you smile and the two of you start sketching.

It's quiet, except if one of you remembers something random and shortly talks about it.

But you're enjoying the fact that you can sit in silence with Hyunjin, coming to a point like that is something that's hard to achieve but with him it happens so naturally.

Hyunjin revels in the quietness too, his mind at ease. Any other woman he'd ever met would be all over him, asking him this and that, trying to get into his pants and into his wallet. Hwang Hyunjin, the artist, the celebrity.

But here with you, he is just Hyunjin, just a guy who likes to paint and take pictures of beautiful moments and people he loves.

You don't know how long the two of you spend sketching but your stomachs are empty indicating that it's probably around time for lunch.

"I'm done, I think."- Hyunjin says, eyes scanning the page.

"Me too. Let's swap."- you say and the two of you swap sketchbooks at the same time.

Just as you thought, Hyunjin has done a beautiful rendition of the island and you hear him giggle so you look up.

"You sketched my hands?"- he asks, his cheeks red.

"Y-yeah."- you stutter a little, your face heating up too. "I was watching you sketch and I really like the rings you wear, and your hands looked really delicate so I wanted to draw them. Don't know if I did them justice, though."

"Oh you definitely did, it really looks like my hands. You're amazing with this."- he stares at the sketch again.

You wanted to tell him how attractive his hands are, not all your thoughts were pure as you imagined his pretty hands burning their shape on your body and claiming you as his.

You throb again for the second time today, shaking off your thoughts, you grab some water and drink in an attempt to calm down.

"Can I have it?"- Hyunjin asks cutely, his eyes innocent and big as he points at your sketch.

"I mean, sure, if you want."- you chuckle.

"Thanks."- he smiles wide and gently pulls the paper from the spine, putting it in his sketchbook when you return it to him.

"Should we head back soon? I think my stomach is completely empty right now."- you say and Hyunjin nods.

"Mine too. Let's just sit for a few more minutes."- he says and you nod.

As you prop your hands on either sides of you and lean back, Hyunjin does the same and his hand falls close to yours, the fingertips of his pinky and ring finger touch the tops of yours.

You jolt a little but keep looking forward and so does he. Time stops for a few moments, neither of you addressing your fingers touching or flinching away.

The urge to tumble into his embrace vibrates in your body but you hold it in barely, and Hyunjin hyperventilates on the inside wanting nothing more than to squeeze your hand and hold it to his chest so you can feel just how hard his heart beats for you.

After a refreshing shower, Hyunjin is grateful that Isaac has finished cooking lunch just in time as he arrived into the dining room.

"All that climbing probably got you starved. Sit down, son."- Isaac gestures to the chair with a kind smile on his face.

Hyunjin wastes no time as he sits and starts putting food on his plate, thanking Isaac for the lunch.

The older man observes Hyunjin as he hums to himself, one of his legs propped up under his other thigh, a small smile on his face as he chews.

The difference between this giddy-in-love boy sitting across from him and the sad, hunched over boy that first arrived to his house is enormous and Isaac knows that Hyunjin had definitely found what he was looking for here, even if he wasn't aware of it yet.

"So, did you kiss her or something?"- Isaac asks suddenly and Hyunjin coughs, almost choking on his food.

"W-what? No."- he says quickly, embarassment seeping into his cheeks.

"You look really happy, Hyunjin. I'm glad for you and please do kiss her soon. Take the chance, don't lose it."- Isaac sips on his tea.

"What makes you think she'd want me to kiss her?"

"Are you blind? The two of you look head over heels for each other."- Isaac chuckles and Hyunjin looks befuddled.

"How do you know-"

"I saw the two of you as you came back, I was walking home from the store. The way she looked at you is how my Celia looked at me before I fucked it all up. So, be smarter than me, will you?"- Isaac smiles a little.

"I will. And... Thanks, Isaac."- Hyunjin gives a wide smile to Isaac, feeling grateful for everything.

"No need."- the man returns the smile and Hyunjin's heart is overflowing with warmness, the feeling slowly bringing his soul back to his body.

Hyunjin is making his way down to the beach, wanting to take some more pictures of the island just as he hears a voice calling his name.

He turns towards the source, only to find Bennet smiling at him.

"Meeting up with y/n again?"- Bennet asks with a smirk on his face.

Hyunjin's body washes over with warmness, news travels quickly on a small island.

"No, I was just gonna take some pictures and walk around."- Hyunjin answers.

"Mind if I join you for a while?"- Bennet asks, lifting up two cans of beer.

"Sure."- Hyunjin nods with a smile.

They make their way to a park near by, complete with benches and tables. Bennet props his leg up, opening up his can and leaning his hand on his knee.

Hyunjin sits cross-legged as he takes the other can, the satisfying sound of it opening, popping in his ear.

"Do you smoke?"- Bennet asks, taking out a pack of cigarettes.

"Ah, sometimes."- Hyunjin shrugs and Bennet takes one cig out, putting it between his lips.

"Feel free to take one whenever you want."- he says after lighting it up and putting the pack on the table.

"Okay, thanks."- Hyunjin nods.

"So, you and y/n, huh?"- Bennet lets a puff of smoke out of his mouth.

"I'm not sure what you mean."- Hyunjin is embarassed again, taking another sip of the cold beer and looking everywhere but at the man sitting next to him.

"You'd be a cute couple is all I'm saying."

Bennet smirks and Hyunjin looks at him. He's probably some 5-10 years older than Hyunjin, he can't quite put his finger on his exact age as he observes him.

"Everyone sure know what's going on around the island all the time, hm?"- Hyunjin lets out a laugh.

"It's a small community, what do you expect?"- Bennet laughs too, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"I quite like it here though. The more time I spend here, the more I never want to go back to the city."- Hyunjin confesses.

"Oh, I get that my man. We used to live in the city. It was all too much, I was trying to keep open my father's restaurant that fell into debt because of his poor management decisions and also support my family."

"Sounds like you had a really rough time."

"Oh you have no idea, Hyun. Can I call you Hyun?"

"Sure."- Hyunjin shrugs with a snicker.

"Look, it was really difficult finding out that our kid is deaf, you know? My wife cried so much, I couldn't bear it. I tried calming her down, she was talking about Luna never having a normal life and her fear of our daughter being sad because of her disability and also mocked or excluded by other children. But as it turns out, you can't miss what you never had so Luna has no idea what she's missing and she's such a happy little girl." - he pauses, "Paying off my father's debts and selling the restaurant in the city was my best decision ever. Catherine is originally from the island so she was happy to go back and open up our little restaurant. That's really all I wanted, for my family to be happy. We've never been happier since we came back here."

"How long has it been?"- Hyunjin asks.

"Around 3 years now."

"I'm glad you found your place. The city can swallow you, I know that. And I'm glad your family is happy."

"I think you're a really good guy, Hyun."- Bennet says. "Just listen to your heart, hm?"

"I think I will."- he smiles.

"Atta boy!"- Bennet smacks Hyunjin's shoulder, making him cough a little as he laughs.

"Hey, how about you and y/n come to the restaurant for dinner? It'll be on the house."- Bennet smiles widely.

"I mean... if she's not busy, I'll ask her."

"Mhm, do so. I'll see you later."- Bennet winks as he gets up, grabbing his pack of smokes and leaving Hyunjin with his camera.

He chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

He didn't even crave the cigarette, didn't need it. Even looking at Bennet smoking didn't make him want to fall back into the nasty habit. After all, cigarettes were just a form of escapism to Hyunjin, something to excuse himself with and fiddle with so he doesn't go completely insane.

A dark cloud wraps around Hyunjin's heart as he walks towards your house and thinks about his phone, turned off for weeks already and tucked away into one of the drawers in his room.

Charlie is probably close to sending a search and rescue team for Hyunjin, but he can't bring himself to turn the damn device on and go back to reality.

Maybe he's a fucking coward but he doesn't want to leave this beautiful state of mind and heart, one you helped bring to him.

He stands in front of your door before he knows it and after three knocks, he waits.

"Coming!"- he hears your muffled voice and footsteps coming closer towards him.

The door swings open and your eyes are wide as you hold a towel, probably to dry your damp hair, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sweats.

Hyunjin's heart beats fast like it's a beast trying to rip out of his chest and leap to you. You look absolutely stunning to him like that and he's sure his legs are made of jelly right now.

"Oh, Hyunjin!"- you look surprised, your eyes darting left and right.

"Sorry to barge in unannounced, but um- I was out and about and ran into Bennet. He graciously offered us to have dinner at his restaurant tonight."- Hyunjin says, beating himself up inside for how stupid he sounds. "It's on the house."

"Oh, yeah, must be because Catherine asked me to babysit Luna tomorrow while they have a short day trip to an island nearby for their anniversary."- unknowingly, you shut down his next sentence, the one where he'd blurt out that it could be a date.

Hyunjin's insides almost burst as he swallows that sentence and buries it deep inside him. It's better that he didn't say anything because he would just embarass himself further and he doesn't want to keep digging that hole.

"Oh yeah, that."- Hyunjin chuckles awkwardly.

"Well, you can come in and wait in the garden while I get ready. I can make you a cup of tea?"- you open the door wider and Hyunjin steps in.

"Sounds good."- he smiles.

"Did you manage to get some rest?"- you ask after putting the kettle on.

"Oh yeah, I took a nap after lunch."- he says.

"Me too. After lunch naps are the best."- you say and Hyunjin smiles.

Fleeting thoughts of the two of you napping together and cuddling, keeping each other safe in one another's embrace, run through Hyunjin's mind.

"They really are."- he agrees.

When the tea is done you hand him a cup with a smile.

"Here."- you say quietly.

You're so pretty. I wanna kiss you.

Hyunjin is so dangerously close to caving into his heart's desire but he doesn't want you to spill the piping hot tea all over yourself.

So he waits in the garden, sitting at the table there and looking at all your flowers as the sun sets. He takes a few pictures and sips on his tea.

You get dressed excitedly, your heart speeding up in your chest at the thought of going to dinner with Hyunjin and getting ready while he's just a few feet away from you.

You put on a simple black dress that's maybe a little too fancy for your liking, usually you go for casual flowy dresses. You feel a bit self-conscious, you don't want it to come across as if you're trying too hard but you also don't want to look too casual.

It feels like tonight might be some kind of turning point for the two of you. You have no idea why, but tingles keep running up and down your spine and it feels poetic. It feels right.

You even put on some light make up and do your hair quickly, not wanting to make Hyunjin wait for too long.

"I'm ready."- you finally walk out to your garden after some breathing exercises to calm your racing heart.

"Great, I was beginning to wond-" -Hyunjin's head whips towards you and his mouth visibly falls open, stopping whatever witty remark he was just about to let out.

Embarassment makes you hot on the inside as he checks you out openly, his eyes roaming all over your figure and your arms come up instinctively to cover yourself.

You know looks that are predatory and hungry, looks that make you feel unsafe, those looks that you were given many times before but Hyunjin... he looks at you differently.

It's like he's fascinated with you, drinking in every single detail that makes you you, his sparkly eyes mapping out every single curve and crease he can find.

"Well, I obviously didn't get the memo for tonight since I look homeless next to you."- Hyunjin says and you burst into laughter.

"You could never look homeless. Even your casual clothes are fancy. And you're wearing your jewelry so it's fine."- you smile, both of your faces red.

"Alright, if you deem this worthy."- he purses his lips, making a displeased face as he pinches his oversized t-shirt between his fingers and waves with it dramatically.

You giggle at him, shaking your head.

"Worthy enough for me."- you say and he smiles sheepishly before the two of you make your way out of your house.

The walk to the restaurant is quick and before you know it, Catherine welcomes you in.

"Oh, we're glad you made it."- she smiles, ushering you in.

There are a few other locals eating dinner on another table, and an older man that lives near Isaac, sitting alone in the corner and watching tv as he sips on his beer.

You take seat on your usual table, right next to the window.

"Where's Luna?"- you ask Catherine.

"Oh, she's sleeping upstairs. Again, I am so very grateful for you taking care of her tomorrow, this'll be the first anniversary that we get to celebrate just the two of us, ever since we came here."- she clasps her hands around yours and beams at you.

Hyunjin leans his chin on his hand and observes you with a small smile on his face.

"It's really no problem, Cath. I'm glad to have a play buddy at my shop tomorrow."- you chuckle. "Plus, the two of you really deserve a nice day off together."

"You're an angel!"- she says and you chuckle, shaking your head. "We prepared our special for the two of you."- she winks. "Let me get some wine for starters."

"Oh, we're really being wined and dined."- Hyunjin giggles, his eyes crinkly, making him look like a cute dumpling, almost like he was edible.

"We are."- you smirk, as Catherine brings a bottle of wine and two glasses to your table.

She even goes as far as to pour it.

"Cath, you really don't have to. I'm not that fancy."- you shake your head, feeling a bit awkward with all the special attention you're getting.

"No, no, you're our special guests tonight and so you should be treated."- she practically twirls and walks away quickly after she's done pouring the wine in your glasses.

"Ooh, special guests."- Hyunjin wiggles his eyebrows at you and you chuckle.

"I'm sure this is nothing new to you, being wined and dined like this."- you say, your fingers resting on your wine glass.

"Actually, it is. I mean, I do go to fancy dinners but it's usually with a bunch of ridiculous older rich men who only talk about nonsense and money."

"No pretty ladies?"- you tease with a smirk.

"Just one, right now."- he smirks back and you freeze.

When did he get so bold?

The question hangs in both of your heads.

Upon seeing your shocked expression, Hyunjin regrets uttering those words.

Did he step over a line? Did he say something wrong? Should he apologize?

"Better one than none."- you quickly retort after gathering your thoughts, not wanting to make things awkward.

"True."- Hyunjin nods with a chuckle. Phew.

Bennet is the one to bring your food, the special being a famous fish that Delmar usually catches and brings to the restaurant, and Bennet uses his father's recipe to make it as tasty as it can be.

Hyunjin eyes it skeptically and you laugh at the face he makes.

"It's really good, I promise."- you say with glee.

"Okay, I'll trust you, y/n."- he says, his face still uncertain.

When he does take the first bite, his eyes become wide and his eyebrows shoot up beneath the bangs framing his face. He looks as if a firework just exploded above his head instead of just one lightbulb as he makes approving, humming noises.

"Good?"- you smirk.

"Amazing!"- he says excitedly and you laugh.

"See, I told you."

"I will never doubt you again."- Hyunjin bows exaggeratedly, making you giggle.

You continue eating and making small talk, as the wine bottle gets emptier and the sky gets darker.

"So, you're babysitting Luna tomorrow?"- Hyunjin asks just as you finish eating.

"Mhm."- you dab your lips with a napkin before putting it down. "I learned sign language so I'm the best candidate."- you chuckle as you take a sip of your wine.

"Oh, that's fascinating! I mean, I saw that you talked to her already, I just didn't know how much you knew."

"Oh, enough to sit down and have a conversation."- you say.

"Hopefully you'll teach me?"- Hyunjin looks at you cutely.

"If you want to learn, of course."- you nod with a smile.

"I do. I could come help you babysit?"- he suggests.

"That'd be fun."- you say just as Catherine appears beside your table to pick up your empty plates.

"How is everything?"- she asks with a suggestive sort of smile.

"It's amazing as always."- you compliment and she looks at Hyunjin.

"Best fish I ever had."- he confirms and she chuckles.

"I'm glad you liked it. I'll bring you dessert in a few minutes."- she winks and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Wow, even dessert."- Hyunjin smiles happily.

"It's probably lemon lime cake. It's really good, too. I mean anything that Bennet and Catherine make is delicious, for real."

"I believe you now."- he says and you giggle.

Catherine does indeed bring her famous lemon lime cake and the two of you enjoy the citrusy treat.

It's almost 11pm when Hyunjin and you finally leave the restaurant, thanking both Bennet and his wife for the wonderful meal.

Hyunjin walks you to your door and you turn towards him. You're not tipsy, but the wine had made you a bit gleeful as you beam at each other.

"So, tomorrow at 8 at your shop?"- he asks.

"You don't have to come that early, you can rest. Just come when it's convenient for you."- you say.

"I want to come early. It's no problem."- I want to spend as much time as I can with you, is what Hyunjin wants to say but doesn't.

"Okay, looking forward then."- you nod and there's a moment of silence as Hyunjin searches your eyes.

This is the part where the lead characters kiss.

Hyunjin swallows, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Your eyes follow the movement, your lips parting ever so slightly.

Is he leaning in closer?, your heart skips a beat and panic seeps into your stomach.

"Well, good night Hyunjin."- you break the silence and quickly turn around.

"Uh- Have a good night, y/n."- Hyunjin blinks repeatedly as you rush inside, giving him a small sheepish smile before you close the door.

He stands there for a few moments, wondering if he should've leaned in or backed away.

Hyunjin can't sleep that night. Maybe it's because his belly is full or the wine is keeping him awake.

Or maybe it's because he's replaying the whole day in his head over and over again.

Especially the last moment and he blamed himself for hesitating, his mind going so far as to think that was the last chance he'd ever get to kiss you.

Of course, he knows he's being dramatic but the moment was perfect, you were both relaxed after a romantic dinner and you even put on a pretty dress, and he had walked you home.

Why was he acting like a coward with you? Why was it so easy to bring home some random girl he gave no fucks about and sleep with her and with you he couldn't even think of holding your hand without exploding inwardly?

Because you're in love, you idiot.

Is what his inner voice tells him and Hyunjin becomes even more awake after that, tossing and turning until he finally sits up, sketchbook in hand and shapes of you appearing on his paper again.

In your bed, you're no better. You're beating yourself up from running away when Hyunjin was clearly trying to kiss you. Or was he?

Maybe you had imagined it all, and if you would've leaned in you would probably make a fool out of yourself.

Why are you making it so complicated?

Why are you scared?, you ask yourself.

Falling into a whirlwind of your past relationship traumas, you end up sucked in a black hole of bad thoughts, ones that tell you that you're not good enough and you don't deserve this.

Hot tears slide down your cheeks and you barely manage to fall asleep, clutching onto your pillow.

"Here, you can use these, and these too. And some baby breath, okay?"- you put some flowers on the table for Luna to play with.

She looks at you and nods with a smile, her small hands plucking the different flowers and putting them together in a little bouquet as you make one of your own, one that a resident had ordered for the birthday of their husband.

"Good morning!"- you hear Hyunjin, your heartbeat betrays you together with your rosy cheeks as soon as you see him come in with a bright smile on his beautiful face.

"Good morning."- you smile back and Luna looks up after you gently put your hand on her shoulder.

"Good morning, Luna."- Hyunjin waves, leaning down to be in her line of sight.

She giggles sheepishly, kicking her legs under the table and signing a 'good morning'.

"I brought my sketchbook."- Hyunjin says before looking at Luna.

"Can I sit here?"- he asks her carefully, pointing to another chair at the table.

Luna reads his lips and nods quickly, swinging her legs as she puts the flowers together.

You chuckle at them, your heart swells at the sight of Hyunjin being so gentle with her.

Hyunjin takes out his sketchbook and Luna takes interest in it, watching him sketch as she forgets about the flowers before her.

"You're stealing my helper."- you joke.

"My apologies."- Hyunjin smirks and you shake your head with a playful eye-roll.

Luna tugs on your dress and you look at her.

Hyunjin observes as the two of you sign.

"I thought you would teach me."- he pouts when you finish.

"She asked if she could get a paper from you and also draw something."- you say.

"Oh, of course."- Hyunjin nods quickly, taking out a blank paper and giving it to Luna.

He finds another pen and also gives it to her and she smiles.

"Thank you."- she says.

"How to sign 'you're welcome'?"- Hyunjin asks you and you show him.

He repeats it to Luna immediately and she giggles again before turning to the paper.

"I kinda wanna join you but I have to finish this bouquet."- you say and Hyunjin looks up at you with a smile.

"Do you need help?"

"No, it's fine, it's almost finished anyways."

For some time, the three of you are silent, each in your own world before you finish with your flowers.

"Done!"- you announce, before sitting down and leaning your head on your palm.

"You need a paper too?"- Hyunjin asks and Luna looks at the both of you, reading your lips.

"Yeah, sure."- you confirm and he rips another paper out and gives it to you.

Luna signs something to you again and you gasp, both of you giggling as Hyunjin pouts on the side.

"You're excluding me."- he whines.

"This is girl talk, sorry."- you tease.

"Alright, I won't interfere."- he brings his hands up in surrender and you chuckle.

"Oh, hey, we could do that thing where we sketch something and then exchange our drawings and continue on each other's sketches? What do you think?"- you suggest and Hyunjin nods enthusiastically.

"That sounds fun! I've always wanted to try that."- he says.

You explain it to Luna and she loves the idea so the three of you get to it, the sounds of laughter filling up your little flower shop.

You and Luna teach Hyunjin some more sign language, and Luna finds Hyunjin so interesting that she decideds to grab one daisy that she was playing with earlier and put it in his hair.

Hyunjin leans down with a smile to let her do it and she giggles excitedly. He takes two more daisies, first putting one in her hair gently, making her even more giddy. Then he leans towards you and puts the flower in your hair, his fingers smoothing out the hairs behind your ear, fingertips touching your skin ever so gently.

Your whole being vibrates with just the slight touch and the gesture and you involuntarily lean towards his hand, like a flower following the sun and leaning towards it's warmth.

Hyunjin notices but he also notices Luna staring at the two of you so he retracts his hand with a small smile, both of your faces red.

The three drawings are a mish-mash of faces, flowers and scribbles, making for three unique art pieces. Luna takes yours and hers and gives them to Hyunjin, to tuck the ripped and now filled papers back into his sketchbook.

Hyunjin and you help Luna make her bouquet on her request, your fingers touching a few times and it keeps sending shocks of electricity through your body.

"It's so beautiful! Even better than mine."- you smile at her when it's finished, making her giggle.

Since her parents have closed the restaurant for the day, lunch time is scheduled to be at your house.

The three of you make your way there after you lock up, the afternoon sun warming you up on the short walk.

And as you prepare lunch, while Hyunjin plays with Luna in your garden, you can't help but think how domestic it all feels and a wave of excitement rushes through your body, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

You dare to wish Hyunjin would stay here forever and be yours. Your chest expands at the thought of that, him being yours, and you being his.

Luna runs into the kitchen, breaking you out of your thoughts and Hyunjin rushes in after her, panting and making a face as he holds onto the kitchen counter.

She giggles and circles the table and you chuckle at them.

"You look like an old man."- you tease him.

"I feel like an old man right now. She gave me a good exercise, hah."- he breathes hard and you smirk.

"Perfect before lunch. When you catch a breath, the two of you can help me set the table."- you say.

"Yes m'am."- Hyunjin nods making you laugh.

When everything is finished and you sit down to eat, Hyunjin compliments your cooking, making you feel giddy to see him genuinely enjoying the food you made.

You take Luna and put her down for a nap before going back to the kitchen, only to find Hyunjin cleaning up.

"You don't have to do that."- you shake your head.

"I want to."- he smiles and you join him, the two of you quickly tidying up the mess that was made.

"I wish I could take a nap too."- you sigh, remembering how you barely slept last night.

"Go take a nap."- Hyunjin says.

"That would be rude."- you smile sheepishly.

"No, it's fine really. I'll just make myself some coffee, sit in your garden and draw if that's okay with you."- he shrugs with a sweet smile.

"I mean, if you're okay with me sleeping while you're here."- you say.

"It's your house, just do as you would if I wasn't here and I'll stay in case Luna wakes up and needs something."- Hyunjin ushers you to your living room.

You make your couch more cozy for a nap, falling into the comfortable blankets and the feeling that today has brought you, and with a smile etched on your face, you slip into dreamland quickly.

Your nap may have been a coma, you didn't even realize how sleepy you were, gasping as you sit up and notice that it's getting darker outside.

You quickly get up, almost falling since you were dizzy and disoriented. You grab onto the couch, trying to come to your senses for a moment before you make your way to the kitchen to drink some water.

"Hyunjin?"- you peek into the garden.

"Oh, hey."- he's there, sitting at the table, still with his sketchbook.

"What time is it?"- you ask confusedly, rubbing your eye and he smiles at you endearingly.

"7pm or so."

"7pm?! Oh my god, Luna-"

"Is home. I took her to the restaurant at 6pm as you said. Bennet and Catherine just arrived then, all refreshed and happy."- he says.

"Oh I am so sorry Hyunjin. You should've woken me up."

"No way."- he shakes his head. "You have nothing to apologize for, you were tired. I didn't want to disturb you plus me and Luna got along just fine."

"You're too sweet, thank you."- you say without thinking, your brain melting at the sight of Hyunjin looking at you so happily, like you're the most fascinating thing he has ever seen, even in your disheveled after nap state.

"It's nothing."- he says shyly, his cheeks red, your comment doing more to his heart that you could ever imagine.

You decide to make some tea for the two of you and when you sit down, Hyunjin shows you his sketches of your garden, Luna and you.

Talking and enjoying each other's company stretches into hours, as you even eat dinner together, both of you not realizing how much time has passed.

Well into the night, the two of you still find topics to talk about and even if you say you don't always believe in destiny, one thing is for certain; you were meant to share this gentle moment with Hyunjin.

You hoped that in every parallel universe, your souls have found each other and became entwined, just like they did in this one.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @lixies-favorite-cookie @linavc @quokkacidal @thisaintredwine @m00gyu @yaorzu-blog @skzfelixlove @tajannah-price1 @puccaaak @aft2rsexs @xxkissesforchanniexx @aprilmaejune77 @lilmeowneow @stayjinnie @astrobebba @danihwang882 @kaysungshine @nchhuhi @1810cl @chartrucewhore @babigriin @jisuperboard @alisonyus @minluvly @instantsoulnight @kkamismom12 @its-stayville-forever @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

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fresh-new-yoik-watah · 5 months ago

Text

Duplicity

CHAPTER ONE

a/n: new fic alert

pairing: Hiccup x OC

warnings: none!

word count: 2.3k

MASTERLIST

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The fog hung heavy over the choppy ocean, shrouding their ship in a thick, damp blanket. Aja stood at the front, her fingers that poked out of her thick arm warmers gripped the wooden railing as she peered into the obscured horizon. The air was chilly, each breath she took visible as a misty puff in the air.

Ragnor, her father, stood beside her, his brown eyes hard and unyielding as they scanned the endless expanse of water. His rugged face, lined with years of grief, was set in a grim expression. Aja spoke, her voice soft. "Maybe this is a bad idea," she began, her words hanging in the air like the fog around them. "We don’t even know if there is a Night Fury there."

Ragnor's gaze didn't waver. "And if it is?" he replied, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to echo off the timbers of the ship. "I let it escape from me?"

Aja's heart ached. "It’s been years, Father," she pleaded. "We’ve mourned her, we’ve honored her memory. Chasing after a dragon won’t heal this wound." Referring to her mother, the loss that had driven her father to this relentless pursuit.

Ragnor's face hardened further, if that were even possible. "Every day I wake up and see your face," his voice was raw, "I’m reminded of what was taken from us. I cannot ignore that, I will not let this last monster roam free. If it’s not on Berk, I will find it, wherever it goes."

Aja turned away, her blue eyes stinging with unshed tears. This quest for vengeance was consuming her father, driving a wedge between them and the life they could be living. She yearned to find a way to stop him before it was too late, but for now, all she could do was stand beside him in the cold, foggy silence.

The ship creaked gently beneath their feet, the sound a reminder of how alone they were in the waters. Aja wrapped her arms around herself as the salty spray of the ocean kissed her freckled cheeks. The fog moved like a living entity, amplifying her sense of unease. She took a deep breath, searching for a way to steer the conversation.

"And what will we tell Berk when we arrive on their shores?" she asked, her voice steady. Vikings were wary of outsiders, their hearts hardened by years of conflict and distrust. Anyone who approached their own shores was treated as a threat, a potential enemy waiting to strike, because pillage and plunder is what Vikings did best.

Ragnor turned to her, "We’ll tell them we wish to establish trade," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact, as if the simplicity of his words could mask their mission.

Aja frowned, "Trade? They won’t just welcome us with open arms." Her mind raced. She envisioned the rugged faces of the Vikings on Berk, their eyes narrowed with suspicion, their weapons at the ready.

As her thoughts spiraled, she also couldn't shake the image of the Night Fury, imagining a large, fearsome dragon the color of darkness. If it was there, what would she do? The idea of confronting the creature filled her with dread, but she had made up her mind: she couldn’t let Ragnor kill it. But how would she stop him? Vengeance burned bright in his heart, blinding him to the possibility of forgiveness or understanding.

Her thoughts were broken by the sharp voice of one of Ragnor’s men. “Chief!” the man called out, his face pale and strained and eyes wide with urgency. The wind whipped through the ship, carrying the sound across the deck, and Aja felt her heart speed up as the man approached, his boots thudding against the planks.

Ragnor turned, his expression instantly shifting to the hardened demeanor of a leader. “What is it?” he demanded, his voice low, cutting through the sounds of the waves slapping against the hull.

“Something’s happened, by the last cove,” the man replied, breathless. “We need to discuss our course. It’s urgent.”

The lines of her father’s brow deepened. Ragnor nodded, his focus now entirely on his crew, and Aja felt their earlier discussion slip away.

“Go,” he said to her, his tone softer, though still maintaining its firmness. “You should get some rest. We have a few days before we reach Berk, you’ll need your strength.”

Aja opened her mouth to protest, to argue that she wanted to stay, but the look in her father’s eyes silenced her. She nodded, the lump in her throat growing as she turned away, retreating below deck. The stairs creaked beneath her feet, each step reminding her of the growing distance between her and the man she once knew.

Once beneath the deck, Aja found her hammock swinging gently in the dim light. The thin fabric cradled her as she pulled the rough wool blanket tighter around her shoulders. The sway of the ship was supposed to be soothing, but it only served to amplify her thoughts. She closed her eyes, trying to summon a memory of her mother’s face, but all that came to her were blurry features, a jigsaw puzzle of indistinct shapes and brown hair like her own. She tried to recall the warmth of her mother’s embrace, the sound of her laughter, but the details remained elusive, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. Aja felt a hollow ache in her chest as she realized how much of her mother had been lost to time, replaced instead by her father’s need for revenge.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she let out a shaky breath, curling up tighter in her hammock, and drawing the blanket closer as if it could shield her from the world outside. Eventually, the exhaustion of her thoughts took its toll, and the rhythmic rocking lulled her into a restless sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, maybe a few hours, but the sound of whispers made her blink awake, tickling her ears. She sat up, the remnants of sleep falling away as she carefully listened. Pulling on her boots, she moved quietly, stepping out of her hammock and feeling her way along the dark corridor. The whispers grew clearer as she ascended the stairs, each footfall deliberate, careful, as she climbed and opened the door leading to the deck.

She emerged into the night, the dense fog obscuring her vision, turning familiar shapes into shadowy figures. Aja squinted into the darkness, allowing her to distinguish the faint outlines of her surroundings. Something stirred and pricked at her instincts, sending the hairs on her neck standing.

Then Aja spotted him. Ragnor stood at the edge of the ship, his posture tense. The moment his gaze met hers, surprise flickered across his face, quickly masked by a new expression. There was a fleeting moment where she felt the heaviness of something between them, something unsaid.

“Dad?” she started, her voice barely a whisper, “What’s going on?”

Before she could process his reaction, Ragnor surged forward. In one swift motion, he scooped her up, the world spinning around her. “No!” she cried out, but it was too late. With a forceful heave, she was tossed over the side of the ship.

Her body plunged into the frigid water. The shock of the cold enveloped her, sending a jolt through her limbs as she kicked her legs. The darkness swallowed her momentarily, muffling the sounds of the world above. As she broke through the surface, gasping for air, a deafening explosion sounded and the ship ignited in a blaze of orange and yellow flames. Her ears rung as splintered wood and debris rained down, her gaze darting toward the vessel, mind racing.

The cries of the crew merged with the crackling of the flames. Aja’s eyes frantically searched, catching sight of a figure silhouetted against the blaze—her father, struggling amidst the debris, his face twisted in anguish. The realization struck her like a wave: something had gone horribly wrong.

She struggled to keep her head above water, the waves pushing against her as if trying to drag her down. Panic surged as she flailed, swimming away from the ship, the heat from the flames licking at her back. The sea around her was a graveyard of splintered wood as she fought against the waves, determined to survive. She ducked and weaved, narrowly avoiding the jagged pieces of debris, but just as she thought she had evaded the worst, a sharp piece of wood pierced her side.

Aja gasped, the pain feeling explosive. Her breath hitched as she felt the blood warm against her, mingling with the ocean’s chill. Dark spots pricked her version, and she found it impossible to stay afloat. Instinct overcame her; focused on survival, and with excruciating effort, her body began to transform. Her muscles began to reshape, her arms and legs turning into thick limbs with claws, her form becoming lighter, more agile, wings growing from her back. She turned into a dragon.

No longer bound by the weight of her injuries, she glided through the water, propelled by the currents. The ocean became her ally, and she pushed forward, away from the wreckage, toward an unseen shore. The waves, once threatening, now cradled her, guiding her toward safety. Finally, she broke free from the water, her feet merging with the soft sands of a beach. Aja dragged herself ashore, her energy waning as she pulled herself through the underbrush of the nearby forest. The trees loomed tall as she stumbled deeper into the woods, branches snapping due to her large body.

With each step, the pain in her side pulsed more insistently. Her vision blurred, and her limbs grew heavier, each breath feeling more labored than the last. Eventually, she found a small clearing, a soft patch of dirt inviting her to rest. She collapsed onto it, letting out a roar as her body succumbed to exhaustion. As she lay there, her body transformed back into her weaker, human self. Her breaths were shallow but steady, until darkness finally enveloped her, and she slipped into vulnerable unconsciousness.

Rising sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of trees, casting shadows on the forest floor as Hiccup trudged deeper into the woods, Toothless walking silently beside him. The early morning air was filled with the scent of moss and damp soil. They were supposed to be finding iron ore, needing more for the Gronckles, but Hiccup’s mind was elsewhere, wandering further and further into the thicket.

He sighed, and Toothless tilted his head up at his rider, his large, expressive eyes conveying concern.

Hiccup took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs as he spoke. “I thought I could do this, you know? Rebuilding Berk, rescuing dragons. But sometimes I think maybe I’m doing the wrong things.”

Toothless nuzzled Hiccup’s side, a gesture of comfort that brought a small smile to his face, but it quickly faded as he continued to speak. “Like with the hunters, and Astrid…”

But before he could say anything else, a distant roar caught their attention. Toothless perked up, his ears flicking toward the sound. It was unlike any dragon Hiccup had heard before. Toothless stiffened beside him, his wings slightly unfurling as he prepared for whatever might come. With a shared look, they moved cautiously through the forest, following the sound, Hiccup’s mind filled with a jumble of thoughts, replacing his earlier turmoils.

“What if it’s a new dragon?” he murmured, half to himself, trying to stop the growing excitement inside him.

Toothless let out a low growl, his eyes scanning the dense greenery ahead. He motioned with his head for Hiccup to get on his back, knowing they’d be quicker that way. The forest whipped past them as Hiccup clung to Toothless, the black dragon now weaving gracefully between the trees, the roar

long faded into the background, replaced by the beating of Toothless’s wings.

“Faster, Toothless!” Hiccup urged, his voice barely rising above the wind. They soared through the air, foliage blurring into a green haze. Just as Hiccup was about to suggest a change in direction, Toothless suddenly veered, his keen senses picking up something, and descended, the ground rushing up to meet them.

Hiccup slid off, scanning the area, and that’s when he saw her—a girl sprawled on the ground. He rushed forward, kneeling beside her. She looked about his age, and unconscious, her skin starkly pale against the dark earth. Blood had pooled around her, a deep crimson color. Hiccup’s gut twisted as he quickly assessed the situation, seeing a deep gash marred her side.

He fumbled for his satchel, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled out a cloth. “Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to focus. He tore the cloth into strips, his mind recalling the knowledge of first aid he had learned over the years. He pressed the cloth to her wound, applying pressure to pause the flow of blood. The girl stirred slightly, a faint moan escaping her lips, and Hiccup felt hope. “You’re going to be okay,” he reassured her, though he still felt uncertain.

He worked quickly, wrapping the rest of the cloth around her wound as tightly as he dared. “I need to get you back to Berk,” he murmured, glancing at Toothless, who stood watchful and alert.

Once he was satisfied that the makeshift bandage would hold, Hiccup carefully lifted the girl into his arms. She felt fragile and small against him, life that hung in the balance. He approached Toothless, who lowered himself to the ground, allowing Hiccup to place the girl gently onto his back.

“This is going to be a tight fit, but we can make it work,” Hiccup said, climbing up behind her and securing himself in place. “Let’s go, buddy. We need to hurry.”

Toothless reared back briefly before launching into the air, the wind rushing past them as they flew above the canopy. Hiccup held the girl tightly as they soared higher. The only thing on his mind now was getting her to Gothi.

#fnyw #hiccup #hiccup haddock #httyd hiccup #hiccup and toothless #hiccup how to train your dragon #hiccup x reader #hiccup x oc #httyd #httyd OC #OC #how to train your dragon #httyd fanfic #httyd fanfiction #hiccup fanfic #hiccup fanfiction

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years ago

Text

Blood in the Rivers: IX

A/N: Apparently I cannot write short chapters. Thank you for your patience and for all the likes and reblogs and kind comments on the last chapter. I love you all so much. Special shout-out to @starlight-starwrites for listening to me whine about this chapter.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: NC-17, for acts of warfare (blood, guts, and gore--our Tully is a little mean), Face-sitting, fingering, using sex to go to sleep, a few kisses

Word Count: 14.2k ( ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Read Chapters I-VIII here! Or on Ao3!

Chapter Nine: The Monster, The Maiden

King’s Landing still smelled of piss and soured bread.

Robb’s missive had come just after they had set the Lannister fleet alight at Lannisport. Yara and her fleet would be left to sack Casterly Rock with a majority of Y/N’s small band of men while Obara and Arya and a handful of Riverlanders set off toward the capital with Y/N.

Cersei had grown desperate and crazed. Growing only more bold and paranoid after she was crowned Queen.

King Tommen was dead. Margaery had been thrown into the Black Cells under suspicion of his murder and the new queen had pulled nearly all of her loyal bannermen to protect the city. Obara surmised that it was a Faceless Man, sent after the king after the Iron Throne refused to pay their debts to the Iron Bank of Braavos.

So much had changed since she had left the safety of Sunspear’s shadows. And yet not enough. The Lannisters still called themselves the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms and the Realm still suffered.

Obella’s tactics had kept all but a handful of the men under Y/N’s command alive. The Westerlands had been put to the torch and their gold and silver mines plundered in the dark of the night. The small band of Riverlanders hid in the dense forests and picked off the Lions’ bannermen when the roads forced them to march two-by-two. She, Arya, and Obara had been welcomed as guests at Pinkmaiden and settled there as their first command stronghold. When asked why she did not think to travel to Riverrun, Y/N’s answer was simple. “I have asked men to leave their homes to fight. I do not go home until they do.” They had never stayed in a location for longer than two days, moving from target to target with brutal efficiency.

But now she was back in the gods-forsaken capital that she had narrowly escaped.

“Has it always smelled like this?” Obara asked, nose crinkling as the wind carried the putrid stench up to the high hill above the city.

“Yes,” both Arya and Y/N answered.

The men at their backs looked grim and anxious in their cloaks, trying to hide their armor. While the Northmen and Dornish were still marching toward the capital, the Reach knights and cavalry had been the first to arrive at the gates of the city, demanding the release of Margaery—the rightful queen. It provided a well-enough distraction.

Y/N slipped off Qēlos’ back and patted the mare’s side in thanks. The beautiful horse had earned her weight in apples a thousand times over in this terrible war. She handed the reins to Lord Blackwood who promised to keep her safe until she returned.

“But are you certain-”

“Lord Blackwood, my answer has not changed since the last time you asked. I thank you for your concern but it is unwarranted.”

The older lord’s face colored with an embarrassed blush and he dipped his head. “Of course, my lady.”

Arya barely concealed a laugh as she, too, dismounted but Obara was stone-faced as her feet hit the damp grass. Patrek Mallister was quick to offer his hand to take her horse’s reins. (In truth, he’d been quick to do anything Obara needed. When they were still setting the Westerlands ablaze and picking off their infantrymen from the cover of forest, Y/N noticed that the majority of men under Obara’s command were either half in love or half terrified of the eldest Sand Snake. Patrek was decidedly the former. His time as a captive of the Freys after the Red Wedding had stripped him of the wandering eye he was known for.)

Obara and Arya stepped to Y/N’s side and they each took a deep breath.

“May the Warrior protect you,” one of the men whispered at their backs.

But Y/N could scarcely hear it over the thudding of her heart. No matter how many times she had readied for battle and shadowed warfare, her heart always leapt into her throat. And maybe that kept her alive, the slight-panic keeping her senses heightened.

“This way,” Arya said, leading them down, down, down. While Tyrion’s crude drawing of the placement of the wildfire around the Red Keep and King’s Landing was safely tucked into Y/N’s small pack, Arya was the one leading them into the mouth of the passages beneath the city. She had warned them about the smell.

It did not help.

Once pleasant and cool water gave way to stink and muck that had Y/N retching. Arya shushed her above the lapping brown water as one of Euron Greyjoy’s longboats neared where they had been treading against the waves. And then, much to her horror, it became clear that they would have to submerge themselves in the muck to avoid detection as the boat sailed by. Through the brown water and with burning lungs, Y/N watched the boat sail across the surface and she nearly vomited when they quietly crested, feeling the disgusting water line her mouth as she clutched her pack to her chest.

“Nearly there,” Arya whispered, starting a slow swim toward a dark corner of the wall.

They were quiet as they hoisted themselves up into the stone hole, gurgling with more sludge. But Y/N could not hold back her retch any longer as they finally curled around a jagged corner. It echoed in the dark and she winced when she heard it.

“Come, Little Fish, do not let your stomach fail us now.” Obara’s words of encouragement were stilted as she tried to keep her own rolling stomach contained.

“The worst is behind us,” Arya whispered with a small smile, murky water on her lips.

Both Obara and Y/N sighed at the girl’s unflinching (if not dark) optimism they quickly set off after the young Stark, following her steps in the dark, twisting tunnels and up the tight steps of uneven stone stairs which led to more tunnels and more stairs. They walked in silence for a long stretch of time, the squish of their soaked boots the only sound they heard. But dim light soon trickled down from some unseen room above to light the path Arya led them on. With the light came the realization that they were surrounded by dragon skulls, damp and dusty with the passing of time.

“I once thought they were monsters,” Arya whispered, a far-off look on her face.

“Is this what you found when you disappeared for half a day?” Y/N asked, skirting around a skull with teeth as long as her arm. It all seemed like a lifetime ago that she had been worried about where Arya had hidden away and Ned had sent Y/N and half his guard out into the city to look for her. When Arya arrived back at the Tower of the Hand, reeking and dirty, near dark, Ned had been both relieved and furious with his youngest daughter.

“It was,” was all Arya said, voice sad. It had been a lifetime for her, too.

And now they were here, in the bowels of the castle that had tried to rip their lives asunder and had very nearly succeeded. But now it was their turn.

The dim light only grew a fraction brighter as Arya finally slowed to a stop—but the noise grew, too.

The first voice was unmistakably Cersei; “the Red Keep has never fallen.”

“Our own father helped it fall. Have you forgotten everything?” Jaime near-snarled in return.

Y/N crept closer to light on quiet feet and followed it so she could more properly hear the conversation. Any bit of information was valuable, even if she was soaked in muck down to her skin. She pivoted so she could look up into the room above, a tiny sliver of stone crooked in its place. She recognized the carved pillars and marble lions of one of the interior courtyards even through the small field of vision the stone allowed.

“Father is here—he will never allow-”

“Our father is not a god despite your best efforts to make him one in your heart of hearts. And neither are you.”

“He will keep us safe. I am Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! Let them try to take my crown.”

“They will try!” Jaime pressed. “The Tyrells are at the gates and the wolves and Martells are coming. What will you do when they arrive and Father’s plans fail you? Yara Greyjoy’s fleet have taken Casterly Rock. There are whispers of Riverlanders picking our bannermen off from the trees after torching most of our bannermen’s lands. What will you do?”

There was a pregnant pause and Y/N felt Obara tug on the back of her jerkin, trying to get her to move.

“Let them have ashes.”

Obara tugged again and Y/N let herself be pulled away this time as she fumbled to grab the wax-coated map of Tyrion’s wildfire storehouses from its hiding place in her pack, unhearing of Jaime’s reply. “We must be quick.”

Arya huffed. “You were dawdling.”

But the three of them set off in search of the glowing jars of fire and found them almost exactly where Tyrion had said they would be and quickly—and carefully—started to move them, hoping that Tyrion’s map proved accurate again. It took hours of cautiously shuffling in the dark to move the cracked glass jars and half-filled barrels they found to where they needed them for this plan to work. They did not have the time to completely empty the city of its wildfire caches and knew there were still piles of them in secret coves and shadowed corners of the city’s underbelly.

Through more thin walls and cutaway stones, they heard whispers. Whispers of the forces outside the walls. Whispers of movement of the gold cloaks and Kingsguard around the city. Whispers of doom with the arrival of the Northmen at the gates.

Whispers whispers whispers.

When her arms ached and her clothes had dried, they moved the last little jar into their pile. But the tiny jar refused to settle and tried to topple from its perch. Y/N thrust her hands out and caught it before it shattered on the floor. A single drop leapt from the jar’s depths and missed her hand before it spattered on the ground, hissing and smoking against the stone.

“We have to go,” Obara said. Even through the thick walls, they could hear the din of movement along the balustrades, readying for battle. Obara had a small barrel in her arms, too. The second-to-last piece in their plan.

Y/N froze for only a moment before she tore off the sleeve of her tunic and shoved it into the top of the jar in as a makeshift stopper. She could use it later, she reasoned to herself, as she stuffed it into the small bag at her back.

Arya was pressing her ear up to the slab of stone at the end of a squat, dead end tunnel. She only needed to stand on her tiptoes to reach it, face tight with concentration. “We’re good,” she whispered before reaching up to move the stone. A whoosh of cooled night air came with it.

Obara started to slowly pour out the contents of her barrel, leaving a sickly green trail from the pile of jars up to Arya’s side. “You first, Pup,” she said, crouching to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling.

Arya then leapt and scrambled up into the dark. Her little hands reached down for the barrel Obara was holding and Obara followed her path up once the barrel was out of her grasp.

“Little Fish,” Obara whispered, “come. We’re nearly finished.”

Y/N glanced back at the pile of wildfire. It looked so much smaller from a distance. She hoped it was enough. Obara held out a hand for her and Y/N took it, needing the help to get out of the tunnel. They were just outside the city now, right at the edge of one of the Old Gate. The grass was damp beneath their feet with early-morning dew as Obara took the barrel from Arya and quickly emptied its contents down into the hole and then trailed it away to leave a smoking green puddle. She discarded the barrel as they crept toward the sparse forest, hoping the growing sun would provide enough cover so the guards on the walls would not see them. The murmur of a city ill-at-ease crept over the high walls and gave a beat to their retreating steps.

Tytos and Patrek were hidden behind the first handful of trees, looking more worried than Y/N expected.

“The Tyrells have retreated for the moment. The archers on the walls have kept them from battering down the Lion Gate,” Tytos said as he handed over the reins to her horse. “And the Northmen have arrived.”

“Have they seen you or our men?” Y/N asked as she rifled through one of the saddlebags for a canteen and a scrap of cloth and quickly wet it, wiping it across her face.

“I do not believe so, my lady.”

Y/N nodded and then tossed a fresh and damp cloth to Arya and Obara, letting them clean their faces, too. She then grabbed a small canteen of ale and swished it around her mouth before spitting it out. “Raise your banners. It is time we made our presence known.”

Tytos nodded once again and signaled toward the men lining the dark of the trees.

Y/N hurried to pull on her armor and huffed out a thanks when she felt Obara’s rough fingers tightening laces or adjusting the pauldron over her shoulder that she had skewed in her haste. Arya’s armor was impeccably placed even without help and Obara slapped at Patrek’s hand when he tried to assist her.

The banners of the Riverlands started to rise as they stepped out of the tree line. Shouts came from the wall when they were spotted.

Y/N patted Qēlos’ flank as she pulled her bow and quiver from the horse’s tack, sending the mare further into the woods to wait.

“Archers!” Some gold cloak yelled from his perch. “Archers!”

Y/N nocked her arrow and Arya lit the end. Dirty fingers pulled the string tight for just a moment as she angled it up into the sky and then let it loose. It sailed through the air and hit the small puddle of green at the base of the wall.

A terrible crack and boom filled the sticky dawn air and Y/N nearly lost her footing as some invisible force shoved her back. Green flames filled the air and the city wall erupted into a storm of broken brick and black dust.

“The wall!” someone cried, muffled against the ringing in her ears. “They’ve breached the wall!”

Y/N righted herself and watched as her small band of Riverlanders and Obara and Arya surged forward in a wave, quickly followed by men in copper armor, pressing into the city’s wound as the green flames of the wildfire continued to eat at the wall and screaming soldiers.

The Dornish had come.

She nocked another arrow and let it fly, tearing into the neck of a distracted solider at the top of the crumbling wall. Another pushed an archer taking aim from his perch. Again and again she picked off the remaining soldiers on the balustrade above the hole in the wall until her quiver was empty. But then, even over the din of the battle, she heard a distinctive crack. Metal breaking and smacking against stone and brick.

“The gate! Defend the gate!”

And now there were two.

Y/N slung her bow across her shoulders and drew the pair of small blades from her belt and pushed forward, trailing behind the press of Dornish and Riverlands.

The city was in chaos. Gold Cloaks and Kingsguard and Westerland bannermen were scrambling over the rubble and wreckage, swords clashing against the invaders. But the Reach and North had pushed their way through the Lion Gate.

There would be no escape.

A man in red and gold armor screamed as he ran at her, spear thrust out in front. Y/N was able to dodge it but his feet could not be stopped and she sank the end of one of her blades through the eye slot of his helmet. She knew she needed to keep moving. Her armor was not meant for full-scale combat like this. But she would not leave her men, Riverlander or Dornish, to fight alone.

But the battle raged. Her small blades were coated in crimson and her arms ached as they pushed forward toward the Red Keep. Toward Cersei.

She caught sight of Arya in the skirmish ahead. The little wolf was holding her own for the most part against some City Watch brute but a well-timed kick to her stomach had Arya falling to the ground, her little sword slipping from her grasp.

“Arya!” Y/N screamed as her heart leapt into her throat to strangle the air from her lungs. “ARYA!” She pushed through the pulsing group, watching the Gold Cloak sneer and stalk toward Arya who struggled to get to her feet. Y/N fought against the crowd, dodging an ax at her throat and a sword at her stomach with a desperation and savage grace a person could only conjure for someone they loved. But she knew… She wouldn’t get to her in time. She wouldn’t make it. The man raised his sword, sweaty face pulled tight with glee and ready to strike the life from Arya Stark and then-

A golden hand caught the sword just as its reached its crest and Jaime Lannister shoved the man back before driving his sword through his belly.

Y/N slid to a stop on her knees as she reached Arya’s side, pressing Needle into Arya’s grasp again and urging her to her feet and back into the near-safety of the advancing crowd. Jaime gave them both a look as they stumbled back, unreadable and…sad. But then he was gone between the swarm of swords and shields.

The Bells did not ring. There would be no surrender. She expected nothing less from the queen.

But perhaps she should have remembered Cersei’s cruelty, her need for control, and Cersei’s own words. All Y/N could think about was finishing this—finishing this war, this stupid war that had taken too much from everyone she cared about.

As the sun started to settle high in the sky, she heard a rumble. Even over the roar of the growing battle, she heard it. Felt it shake the stones beneath her feet. And then the city burst. Green flames and thick smoke filled the air as brick and wood rained down like a terrible storm, ripping through Westerland armies and invaders alike. Dirt clouded her mouth and she tasted fire as her ears started to ring with an intensity she had never experienced, pushing her back and on unsteady feet. With dazed eyes, she watched a man in a gold cloak stumble forward, mouth open in a silent scream as the emerald flames blazed across his armor.

Someone’s hands grasped at her arm and tugged her to the side, finding a bit of refuge behind the fallen remains of an inn. Arya was looking up at her, covered in soot and blood and Y/N watched her mouth move for a few moments, unable to hear anything but then it came back in a wave.

“-taking the Red Keep.”

“What?” Y/N asked, tongue heavy in her mouth.

Arya frowned. “Did you hit your head? Robb is about to take the Red Keep. Cersei must have sent someone to light the rest of the wildfire.” Arya turned to look at something over her shoulder and stiffened. “Come on. We haven’t finished this yet.” The younger girl pressed Y/N’s blades back into her hands. She hadn’t even realized she had lost them. And then Arya was striding away through the rubble, disappearing into a haze of smoke as green flames continued to lick at the wreckage.

Y/N shook herself, trying to free her mind of the buzzing and sluggishness and opened her pack, making sure that her own stash of wildfire had not started to crack or bubble. It was intact, thankfully, and it gave her enough momentum to push forward. Another gold cloak ran into her path a few steps later. His armor was blackened and charred, and buckled when she kicked at his chest to knock him toward the ground before driving one of her blades into the small gap between his cuirass and helmet.

It was easy when they staggered and stumbled or looked too long at the green flames. It was easy. When had it become so easy?

But it didn’t matter when she kept Obara from falling to some red cloak’s sword through her back or when Tytos was knocked from his horse by a City Watch soldier. It didn’t matter that it had become easy when she was keeping her people alive. The ground continued to rumble as more small pockets of wildfire roared to life and burned everything it could. But she kept moving forward, her steps trailing behind Obara’s as they pushed up the steps toward the Barbican of the Keep. It had been reduced to chunks of splintered wood and twisted metal, trampled over by the advancing armies. Y/N turned as she reached the top—just for a moment—to see the destruction the war and wildfire had brought upon the city. Almost a quarter of King’s Landing was gone, swallowed into the maw of black smoke and broken stone. The Red Keep was still burning. More green flames had reduced most of its outer walls to piles of smoking rock and ash. Only the Holdfast still stood tall. If Cersei’s plan had been to burn the advancing armies in the streets—she failed. But a sizeable group of Kingsguard and Gold Cloaks still stood between them and the crown that sat on Cersei’s head.

And they pushed and swung their swords and battered their shields, driving the loyalists back or into the ground.

But then something caught Y/N’s eye. Drew her attention like the Stranger had placed their hand upon her head and turned it.

Tywin Lannister was standing outside the smoking Tower of the Hand. His sword was bent and his helmet fell from his fingers with a clatter. His guards had abandoned him; his grand army reduced to only a handful of men. But his face still hardened when his cold eyes raked over her. Even as the battle had clearly been lost, he held his head high and pointed his sword toward Y/N with a sneer. “Come along, girl. Let us finish this.”

Equal parts dread and joy stoked her soul then. And her heart thundered in her chest even as she knew that the time was short. As Tywin took a step toward her, she threw one of her blades, aiming for his throat—and he deflected it easily, as she knew he would. But her hand dove into her pack and her fingers found the warm glass. Y/N threw the jar at him, uncaring of how her shoulder popped and ached with the sudden movement. All she could do was smile when she watched it smash across his chest plate, dripping green. His eyes grew wide as recognition flickered across his face. She bent to pick up a piece of burning wood and threw it at him, watching the green flames erupt.

Fire makes people dance. And Tywin was no exception. He screamed through the green.

The scrape of a sword against a sheath gained her attention.

It was Oberyn. Dark eyes alight with want and fury and, with a single stroke, took Tywin’s head from his shoulders. It still burned as it rolled across the stone, spitting green embers in its wake. The body slumped to the ash-covered ground, plate armor smacking against broken stone. And then Oberyn was marching toward her, sliding his bloodied sword back into its sheath. With his usual brutal grace, he wrapped his arm around her waist and slanted his mouth against hers, uncaring of the grime or dirt. Y/N quickly reciprocated, pressing her lips firmly against his. Months of separation, months of wondering if she would see him again despite her promise, months of yearning poured out of her as she grasped at the back of his neck to pull him closer, uncaring for the moment of the surrounding destruction. All there was, was Oberyn Oberyn Oberyn and his beautiful mouth that she had missed too much.

He only pulled back to breathe before he took another kiss, smiling against her mouth. “Blood suits you, my moonlight.”

And it suited him, too.

Tywin’s head looked large as it sat next to Cersei’s. Most of it had escaped the wildfire because of Oberyn’s quick removal but half of it was still charred.

The man and woman who had destroyed her family had been reduced to silent heads on a soot-covered floor.

Robb was sitting on the Iron Throne, Widow’s Wail across his lap and a hammered bronze and iron crown settled over his dark auburn curls. The grime and blood of battle still streaked his armor but he looked every bit the portrait of a king with Grey Wind sitting near his feet, gnawing on something that looked suspiciously like someone’s arm. The remains of the Throne Room were filled with dirt-smudged commanders and lords who had sacked the City. Oberyn found all of it tedious and had slipped away with a kiss to her temple to help his men settle into camp for the night.

The sun was setting, casting the entire room in the warm glows of pink and orange over its broken walls and melted windows, like the gods were presenting them all with a bit of beautiful quietness for their victory. Their dead would be tended to later, before the city would be looked over to see what could be salvaged. The story that Cersei had set the stashes of wildfire alight as a final effort to kill the advancing armies was already being whispered throughout the smoking city. No one needed to know that the only reason why more destruction had not been reaped was because of Y/N, Obara, and Arya’s actions in the winding tunnels. It was their secret to keep and hold.

As Robb started to hold court, presiding over the captured Lannister forces and learning Euron’s fleet had turned and run when the wildfire had started, fleeing East toward Essos, Y/N excused herself, trying to fill her lungs with something more than soot. She walked through the winding halls, some half broken and others still filled with groups of injured needing a healing touch. And perhaps it was muscle memory, but Y/N found herself standing outside the door of her old room before she could remember turning that corner or walking down this hall. Her fingers brushed against the wood. The wound from Gregor’s sword had not been patched and it splintered under her touch when she pressed against it. For a moment, she thought of opening the door and walking in and seeing what else had changed or stayed the same. But her hand retreated. Her life was not here anymore. There was no need to step into a place of terrible memory just for memory’s sake.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and Y/N’s heart leapt into her mouth at the sight. “Jon?”

His face morphed from anger to surprise to joy and then he was running toward her with outstretched arms.

She met him halfway and threw her arms around him, uncaring of the blood or dirt and grime. He still smelt of fresh snow and pine even over the stench of battle. His gloved hand found the back of her head and he held her close—like he was afraid she would disappear from his grasp if he let go too soon. “Your hair is so long now,” she murmured into his shoulder.

And his answering laugh sounded choked in his throat. “I have so much to tell you.”

“We have all the time in the world.”

But then Mace Tyrell cam huffing and puffing into the hall, still clad in his gaudy golden armor and red in the face. “My lady, Lord Snow, His Grace is requesting your presence.” He then turned and half-ran back toward the throne room without an ounce of grace and his tarnished golden armor untightened and slapping against his extremities with each step. Y/N hid her laugh behind her hand until Jon nudged at her shoulder.

“You have not changed at all, Y/N,” Jon quietly mused.

“Oh, I have changed quite drastically, dear cousin. But not the parts that matter.”

Jon shook his head with a small smile. “I will hear your stories one day.”

“As I shall hear yours,” she promised just as they walked through the broken threshold. But the respite was torn away the moment she noticed who had been lead in chains in front of Robb’s new throne. A handful of Freys were on their knees and snarled at her as she walked past when Robb waved her forward to stand at his side. They were surrounded by the small band of men she had brought to King’s Landing—every one of them looked hungry for blood. And if there had not been an audience, Y/N would have let them slake that need.

“House Frey has refused to bend the knee,” Robb said, his light eyes cold and hard as his gaze moved to the men at his feet.

“Usurper-!”

Whatever insult the Frey had wanted to spout was silenced when Tytos cracked him across the face with a closed fist, his dented gauntlet still covering his hand. “Silence!”

He turned and spat blood. A tooth clinked against the floor. ��Bitch.”

Tytos raised his hand again to claim the rest of his brown teeth but Robb stood from the throne and strode down to the man and grabbed the Frey’s greasy hair and yanked his head back to expose his throat. The edge of Widow’s Wail pulled a thin line of crimson from his throat as he gulped. “Tell her what you confessed. Tell her, braggart,” Robb seethed, making sure to angle his face to look at Y/N. But every other person was staring at her, too.

And Y/N wished she had Oberyn to stand with—to feel his steadying warmth at her side when the man’s hard stare ripped across her face. But Arya was a comfort too, moving to stand at her side with a snarl of her own. “We found your father outside Pinkmaiden. He tried to bargain, said the Red Wedding did not have to stain all of our hands.”

Y/N could feel her heart stutter in her chest but fought to keep her face neutral. “But you did not care to treat with my father.”

“We dragged him to Harrenhal,” another man said with a laugh. “Took his head and gave the rest to the bear.”

Y/N felt her stomach roll. Bile was rising in the back of her throat in a terrible wave as she curled her into fists behind her back. Grey Wind rose from and licked his bloody chops, baring his sharp teeth and the man cowered and shriveled. “You boast of your own damnation. Have they never taught you of what becomes of men who do not heed the gods’ warnings? Or have the gods never touched The Twins?”

The Freys bellowed, screaming and hollering this and that but all she could hear was a dull roar in her ears, watching their dirty faces contort with their own simple rage.

She dragged her gaze to Robb. “I have heard what they had to say, Your Grace. What else would you have of me?”

Robb stood straight, ignoring how the prisoners still fumed. “I would have nothing of you, my lady. You and your house have paid a high price for your loyalty.”

Robb’s words pushed something both cold and soft against her fragile heart. She nodded once, knowing his words meant more than their simple meaning. “House Frey has wronged more than just me and mine, Your Grace. You know that better than anyone. Do with them what you will. I do not care for their mortal coils and the gods will not care for their souls.” And she watched, a little entranced as they were dragged away, one by one, and slowly the Freys’ screaming was snuffed out. Y/N noticed a bit of tension leech from Robb’s posture as the quiet settled over the crowded room and he retook his seat.

But it was quickly washed away as the next prisoner was brought in, chains singing with each step. A quick kick to the back of his legs brought Jaime Lannister to his knees in front of Robb. And the last living lion in the city actually smiled. “Stark, we must stop meeting like this.”

Maege Mormont started to draw her sword when Robb held up a hand. “You once made my mother a promise. An oath. To return her daughters to her care.”

“I did.” His green eyes flickered to Arya at Y/N’s side.

“You failed.”

Jaime clenched his jaw. “I did.”

“And then we find you fighting alongside your sister.”

“To be fair, it seemed your sisters were already in the care of your cousin so my oath-”

“My sister is the only reason your head is not on a spike,” Robb seethed. “She told me of how you saved her life.”

“Is this true, Lady Arya?” Some lord from the Reach asked. He was quickly met with looks of derision from the surrounding Northmen for questioning her or Robb. (“Of course it is true! She’s no reason to lie!”)

“It is true,” Y/N said, stepping in front of Arya who looked ready for the ground to swallow her whole. Her pride was a fearsome thing. “I saw it with my own eyes. Against his own bannerman, he raised his sword to keep Arya safe.” Murmurs started to slide through the assembled crowd and Robb’s jaw ticked to the side but all Y/N could see was Jaime’s soft, sad smile when he looked at her, like he was remembering how she cried and asked him not to tell anyone. A quiet kindness repaid.

“Your brother has been granted exile.”

And Y/N watched Jaime’s eyes widen, almost hopeful, as Robb continued to speak.

“You will have until sunrise to find a way out of my kingdom. If I see you again, your head will be thrown into Blackwater Bay.” Robb waved his hand and the chains encircling Jaime’s wrists and ankles were released. “A life for a life, Lannister. I suggest you make the most of it.”

“Perhaps they’ll have a song about my father when this war is truly over and the city is rebuilt. They can call it the Fish and the Bear.”

“I would hope the bards would grant him a more fitting song. He had more tales to tell than the way he left this plane, my moonlight.” Oberyn wrapped his arms around her as they stood on the balcony of her room, watching the city settle in for the night and she pressed her ear over his heart, listening to its beautiful beat and letting it steady her own.

It had been nearly a week since they had taken the Red Keep and Robb had been proclaimed king. Everything was slowly being rebuilt. Northmen and cavalry from the Reach were staying to help the city’s smallfolk resettle and survive, creating a sense that all would be well. The gold taken from the Westerland mines settled the Iron Throne’s debt with Braavos. Margaery had been surrounded by the maesters and healers the Tyrells had ferried with them in the war, making sure her time in the Black Cells had not permanently injured her, but had been presented to Robb just this morning and he had gladly accepted her as his queen. It was all a show, of course. The alliance between Robb and the Reach had been forged in the shadows long before he ever set foot in the city. The plan that Oberyn and Ellaria carefully crafted had unfolded beautifully. There were a handful of pieces left to move but Oberyn and Dorne were thankful for a bit of respite and Y/N was grateful for his arms to fall into when she felt that insidious ache once again grow in her chest. Oberyn made it easier to bear. He had kept her close when the other lords and ladies started to learn of her campaign in the Westerlands and what she had done—looks of horror and morbidly curious whispers disappeared when Y/N was in his arms. She only wished that Ellaria was there, too. It had been far too long since she had them in her arms. She needed them both.

“You are being called back to Sunspear, are you not, my prince?” A raven had arrived from Dorne just after they had broken their fast.

“We are being called back to Sunspear,” he mused before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But you are not coming with me.”

Y/N had not said anything to give him that inclination. But Oberyn always knew. She felt him breathe in the scent of her skin as she sighed, burrowing a little closer to his warm chest. “I have to finish it.”

“I know, my moonlight, I know. And I will never keep you from your wrath.” He leaned back to gently cradle her face in his warm hands. “But I will have you promise me, again. Promise me that you will not forget us. Come home. When you are finished, come home.”

“Tell me something, Arya. Something good.”

“I met a boy. Named Gendry.”

A dense fog had settled over the damp grass, curling its ghostly fingers around the trunks of the trees that sheltered Y/N and the armed men from any eyes that might be scanning the land from the safety of their chambers.

Arya spoke, unhurried but succinctly, about her time disguised as ‘Arry’ with Yoren and then the Brotherhood without Banners, as Y/N waited for her men to finish a perimeter check. Most she knew, having gleaned it from conversations with Arya back in Dorne when they took breaks at the training grounds with Obara. But it seemed she placed the secret of Gendry a little closer to her heart. “I thought I saw him in King’s Landing before we left. Working as a blacksmith again.” Arya almost sounded wistful. “I didn’t ask or get too close. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t know what to do if it was him.”

“I think we have both learned that fear gets us nowhere, Arya,” Y/N said softly. “If he makes you happy, makes you laugh, try. Seven know you deserve some joy.”

Arya’s mouth tilted up in a small smile and she looked out toward the formidable fortress of The Twins, seat of House Frey. A strange location for such sentimental talk but it seemed the pair both needed a bit of respite. The handful of Riverlands men who had gone with her to King’s Landing were accompanying her for one last mission. And a small band of Northmen who were heading home were given leave by their king to help Y/N if they chose—and they did.

Ghost, Jon’s white direwolf, trotted to her side on silent feet and Qelōs whinnied in greeting. Y/N had met Ghost after taking King’s Landing when she found Jon wandering the ruins of the holdfast, trying to find a kitchen so he could feed Ghost. The direwolf was decidedly quieter than Grey Wind but no less protective of his chosen Stark or anyone Jon seemed fond of.

And where Ghost was, Jon always appeared. She watched Jon slide through the trees to stand at her side.

“Twelve guards on the perimeter. Five archers in the Water Tower.”

“Inside?”

“No more than forty.”

Y/N nodded and tightened her grip on the reins. She knew most of the Freys and their allies had been in King’s Landing and had been disposed of in battle or by the ax.

But she wanted all of them.

“They seem to be gathering who they can. Must’ve heard whispers of us marching North.”

But the Freys had few allies left. They were the only house in the Riverlands who had not sent forth supplications and oaths of fealty to the new king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And the simple bit of parchment in Y/N’s saddlebag was all the protection and fodder she needed to fan the flames already consuming the dark part of her heart that had led her here. It read simply; House Tully was once again Lord Protector of the Trident and the liege lord of the Riverlands. Any and all actions House Tully made on behalf of the Crown to secure allegiance and peace were sanctioned and accepted.

Perhaps Robb did not know what Y/N meant to do. But maybe he did, letting her loose on the House that had caused both her and her sweet cousins so much pain. She had kept her wrath contained while at war. It burned and raged under her skin but she had pulled it back like a tiger on a chain, knowing that if she had let herself be blinded by her need for vengeance, she would have only caused herself and others more heartache as her men would fall to the sword and ax because her plans would have left them vulnerable instead of safe. But now they were safe. This was the final piece. And she could let it finally burn.

A window pushed open and caught Y/N’s eye. A glint of metal, a cage, was revealed in low candlelight. The rookery, it would seem. Y/N watched a raven fly and pulled an arrow from her quiver. She nocked it and pulled her bow taut, listening to the string sing under her fingers. The arrow flew and took the bird from its flight. They would have no support.

Y/N drew another arrow and turned to Jon. “Give the signal.”

“Your father would be proud, my lady. You are a force, just as he.” Tytos was still filled with compliments even as he let a maester stitch up a gash on his arm.

Y/N managed to smile and dipped her rag into a bowl of fresh water and dragged it across her blood and dirt caked face and neck as she glanced out the window. For a moment, she doubted Brynden Tully would be proud of her. Letting loose a band of men still raging from victory and anger from the betrayal of the Red Wedding onto enemy territory and giving them permission to do whatever they wanted and needed to take the fortress was not honorable or something he would have ordered. But he was gone and she still breathed. She was a survivor—and she knew he would be proud of that.

Portcullises crumpled and arrows flew. Swords ran red and the fortress burned. The siege had lasted all of a handful of hours—just long enough for her to spend her quiver of arrows as she picked off fleeing Freys as they ran across the bridges. But it was finished. Almost.

Y/N grasped Tytos’ uninjured shoulder and squeezed, telling him to rest as Patrek ran into the room and told her they had finished gathering the Freys as she requested. He led her out of the damp, dark castle and onto the grass just on the edge of the Green Fork. A band of about twenty men were on their knees as the Northmen and Riverlanders created a circle around them with dirtied swords kept them from wavering.

The last of the Freys. All of them were guilty. Every single one of them knew of the plot and drew their blades when the time came. Each one had benefitted in some way from the slaughter of the Red Wedding and murder of her father.

Patrek continued on as Jon separated himself from the group and touched her arm just before they reached the group. “This will not bring them back,” he whispered, dark eyes pleading. He had seen enough bloodshed.

Y/N pushed his hand from her arm and stepped forward. “No, it will not. But blood begets blood. And I shall bathe in it. There shall be no root or stem left.”

Patrek had dragged a large stump from the tree line and set it at her feet. She watched a few of the men nervously glance between the stump and Y/N, knowing what was coming.

“Your men have refused to swear fealty to King Robb, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. Your House has refused to bend the knee. Guest Right was violated for greed.” Y/N held her hand out for the ax Lord Cerwyn had across his back and he gave it readily. “I have learned that if you pass the sentence, you should swing the sword. I gave the order.” The weapon was heavy in her grip as she remembered Ned’s words. She’d just been a girl when he had said them and his eyes were sad. But she knew the words to be true and just. “Bring me Lord Walder Frey.”

Two Northmen darted into the group of Freys and pulled a snarling man, still in his sleeping clothes, up and then dropped him to his knees at Y/N’s feet.

“Little Lady Tully,” Walder sneered with rotted teeth. “If your cousin had been half the bitch you are, she might still be breathin’.”

“The gods gave you a chance to be true when they sent Lady Catelyn to your door. They gave you another when your men found my father. You and your wretched family betrayed mine. Now you must reckon with me.”

Walder’s face contorted and splotches of red dotted his grey cheeks. “You-”

Y/N swung the ax and buried it into his neck but it caught on this spine. His eyes grew wide as blood spurted and oozed from the wound. Walder’s mouth opened and closed with silent curses and stained his brown teeth red. She yanked the ax back and watched the Frey crumple down onto the stump before finally cleaving the man’s head from his shoulders. “Bring me the next,” she called out over her shoulder. “I should like to finish this before nightfall.”

She needed a new ax after the third Frey. And a damp cloth to wipe the blood from her face and hands.

“Bring me the next!”

A tall man was then shoved to his knees in front of her, brown hair thin and greasy as it stuck to his sweaty face. He snarled up at her, as a handful of others did before.

“Name?”

“Raymund Frey.”

And that gave Y/N pause. “Arya!” Arya came running, a stranger’s blood streaked across her cheek but still bright-eyed. Y/N handed over the ax. She took it with a frown and glanced at the Frey. “This is Raymund Frey.”

Realization dawned on the young Stark’s face and her grip tightened. If the Freys had not been so fond of bragging, perhaps they would not have known he had been the one to slit Catelyn’s throat at the Red Wedding. But they knew. And so, Y/N watched Arya bury the ax into the man’s neck.

And when all of them were gone, bodies left out to be pecked by hungry carrions, Y/N walked out into the river and washed the blood from her hands. It was finished. The blood in the rivers had washed her clean.

Riverrun had managed to survive a handful of sieges and a brief Frey occupation without losing its integrity. Jon and Arya accompanied her to her family’s seat and she invited the Northmen to rest in its halls for a fortnight before continuing North.

Houses from the Riverlands descended upon Riverrun when they heard of her return and Edmure’s release from the bowels of Casterly Rock. And Y/N was not sure if they had heard of her campaign at the Twins or in the Westerlands but a handful of them stuttered and avoided eye contact when they once again swore fealty to House Tully and bumbled through lathing compliments for King Robb as if he were standing beside her. It amused Arya endlessly who poorly concealed her giggles behind her hand until Jon nudged at her shoulder.

But Edmure had been much changed since his time in Casterly Rock’s dungeons. He walked with a limp and was in need of a cane. The fingers on his left hand were crooked, healed broken and at strange angles. And his vigor had left, his pride, too. Whenever anyone asked for an edict or command, his blue eyes flickered to Y/N and she found herself answering.

Settling feuds, giving instruction on how to rebuild, granting clemency, and doling out justice when needed. Through all of it he seemed to look to Y/N for guidance, to answer for him. She had only planned to stay long enough to make sure the Riverlands were at peace but Edmure gave her pause.

It was exhausting and confusing and Y/N, more often than not, found herself in the familiar kitchens late at night in search of wine. While she had anticipated that being within Riverrun’s familiar halls would finally grant her some peace, all she found was longing for the warmth of the Dornish sun and the gentle touch of Ellaria and Oberyn. The sound of the little ones laughing in the Water Gardens while Obara hollered out formations at the training field. Riverrun was so…quiet. Had it always been so quiet and cold? A small comfort was taking her father’s childhood rooms as her home. It was a way to feel close to him but the ache that had settled in her heart grew a little easier to bear with each passing day. And receiving a raven from Winterfell made her smile, too. It was from Sansa, stating that she had sailed North from Sunspear and had settled back into Winterfell without issue, a small band of loyal Northmen at her call. She had been named Warden of the North by her brother Robb and Y/N remembered how the broken throne room had been filled with cheers at the news, even if Sansa had not been present to hear it. But her own troubles persisted.

Jon found her the night before he, Arya, and the Northmen were to depart for their homes. She poured him a large glass of wine and ushered him into a seat in the dark room and finally pried his story from him. He spoke of betrayal and death and love and loyalty until the sun rose with the next morning.

“Out of all the Starks, you were the most prone to finding trouble.” She reached out to grasp his hand and squeezed, matching tired smiles on their faces. “But you survived. That is all that matters to me.”

He laughed and rubbed at his eyes as she smiled. “If you ever tire of the snow, come to Dorne. I will always have a place for you.”

And then she led him out into the sun to join the rest of the Northmen and bid him goodbye with a tight hug and a kiss against his head and she turned to Arya who begrudgingly gave back the Sand Steed she had stolen before hugging Y/N with a ferocity only she was capable of.

“Find your joy, little wolf,” Y/N whispered into her hair as she held Arya tight. “You deserve it. Now, stay safe.”

Arya nodded and sniffled once before clearing her throat as she pulled back. They both whispered soft goodbyes to each other as the morning light continued to grow. And then Y/N watched them disappear on the horizon with a heavy heart, knowing she was strangely alone now in the place she had called home. As she stepped inside, she nearly bowled over Roslin. Apologies tumbled from Roslin’s mouth as she cradled her son to her chest, almost shaking.

Y/N bit back a sigh and plastered a smile on her face. In truth, Roslin was a genial and gentle woman. Pretty. Loyal. So unlike the rest of her family. Y/N saw how she constantly looked to Edmure with love in her eyes and was met with a broken smile in return. And when the news had come of what had been become of her family, Roslin almost seemed relieved. It made Y/N wonder what she had endured while under her father’s thumb. “It is nothing, my lady. My fault. You are Lady Tully now. Apologize for only what is necessary.”

Roslin froze for a moment, as she always seemed to do whenever Y/N spoke with her, but then nodded with a small smile of her own. “Of course, my lady. Thank you.”

The pair spoke for a little longer, Y/N asking after the health of her babe, a boy nearing his first nameday and named after Edmure’s childhood idol and pride of their house, Kermit Tully, who had led House Tully to the height of their power during the Dance of Dragons. Yes, Y/N supposed, Roslin would grow to be a fine Lady Tully.

If only she could ensure Edmure would become the man she needed him to be.

Y/N eventually found herself slipping away after bidding Roslin a good day and walking up toward the rookery, she wanted to send a raven to Sansa to ask how she was faring. The ravens cawed in greeting as she stepped inside. They always recognized her, the intelligent little beasts. But it was the open window that drew her attention. A white raven cawed as it turned to watch her approach. The noise came again as she brushed a finger against the bird’s back and it fluttered its wings, showing the slip of parchment tied to its leg.

Y/N already knew what the missive would say – white ravens only appeared with the changing of the seasons.

The raven cawed against and nuzzled against her finger as she untied the parchment before flying away. And she was right – “winter has come” was all the Citadel had written, probably in haste to finish the hundreds more needing to be sent.

When she asked Edmure what should be done, finding him sequestered away in Hoster’s old rooms, he gave her another tired smile and asked her to make sure the other Riverlands houses were informed and cared for. Yet another obstacle. Dorne had never seemed so far away.

Y/N ordered the overfilled storehouses of the Twins be emptied to make sure the houses beleaguered by the long war would not starve and wrote to Willas and Olenna in Highgarden to secure a few hundred bushels of grain and barley as well. Even with the war, the Reach had enough to spare. And so, more weeks slipped through her hands. Lords and ladies from across the Riverlands came to Riverrun to receive what House Tully could give them and continue to ask for guidance from their liege lords.

An envoy from House Vance was the latest to arrive and it was then that Edmure seemed to finally show some of his former self. He smiled and greeted them, welcomed them, and helped them settle for the handful of nights they would be housed at Riverrun. And a breath Y/N did not realize she was holding finally pushed its way out of her tired lungs. He would be fine, she told herself. He just needed time.

Even Roslin seemed to settle more into her role at Edmure’s side. It was comforting to know that House Tully was secure once again. She sent a raven to Dorne, telling Oberyn and Ellaria she hoped to leave within a fortnight and arrive before the first snow of the new season. It put a certain spring in her step to think that soon she would be back in Dorne. She would be married and-

“Y/N!” Edmure called her name and snapped her from her pleasant reverie before the evening meal. She walked to his side in the hall and offered a small smile. “I have a gift for you, cousin.”

Before she could ask what the gift was, they were ushered into the hall for the meal. Edmure then pointed out Lord Vance’s third son and prattled on for a majority of the meal. Kirth Vance was handsome, she supposed, and he spoke kindly to servants and squires alike and tended to his horses and hunting dogs with care and doted on his nieces and nephews—if Edmure could be trusted. But every word nearly turned her stomach and she resorted to pushing her food around her place in a poor attempt to look like she was eating.

Ser Kirth was almost bashful as he met her gaze and quickly ducked his head with pink cheeks. “He thinks you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen,” Edmure continued to whisper. “Kirth is not one to overstep—he would listen to your commands and see them through as a faithful consort to you here at Riverrun.”

And then she saw what this was.

“I would have the room,” Y/N said, rising from her seat. While most everyone quickly scurried away, including Roslin and her babe, Edmure signaled for Kirth to come closer. “No, no, Ser Kirth. My dear cousin has misread my intentions. I would speak to him alone.” Another ruddy blush took over his cheeks and he tipped his head before all but running from the hall. When the door firmly shut, she rounded on Edmure. “How dare you.”

Edmure stood, cane clacking against the floor. “Y/N-”

“If you think for a moment that you have the ability to coerce me into staying by offering me a man like that, you do not know me at all.”

“You led the Riverlands to victory. Not me. Not little Robb. You, dear cousin. You raised the banners and called on their loyalty and oaths. You bled alongside them.” Edmure pulled in a shaking breath and pressed harder onto his cane. “Riverrun should be yours.”

“I do not want it.” Y/N turned away from him, trying to hide her disgust. “Is this why you have shunned your duties? You believe you cannot serve your people.”

“I know I cannot.” And he sounded so defeated that she almost turned to comfort him. But rage kept her still.

“Then the Lannisters have won. They sought to strip you of your will and pride and make you a soulless creature of their making.” And Edmure was quiet and that was what had her turning. Her once near-boastful and handsome cousin had all but curled in on himself, face warped and scrunched like he was near tears. “Don’t let them win, Edmure. They are gone. You are still here. You are the man who led men into battle without flinching. You are the man who sheltered smallfolk here, in your home, because you knew they were scared.” Her voice cracked, broken in her throat. “You are the man who read me stories when I was a child. You are a good man. True, brave, and honest.”

Edmure shook his head and a single tear escaped his eye. “I cannot be that man again. I am tied to the family that imprisoned me, killed my sister-”

Y/N reached out to place her hand over Edmure’s on the head of his cane. “The Freys are dead and at my hand. I would gladly do it again. But that woman loves you—loves your son—despite your best attempts to spurn them. The gods have given you a fine wife, Edmure. Do not squander it.”

“She-”

“Is your wife. The mother to your heir. You were once a man of honor. Be so again. No one shall claim the Twins. Let it rot if you wish. Roslin loves you, chose you over her family. There is no ill will in that woman’s soul toward anyone. Just love.” Y/N sighed. “We know love in any form is rare, Edmure. You have found it in Roslin. I have found it-”

“In Dorne,” Edmure grumbled. “Yes, I have heard of your betrothal to Prince Oberyn and your dalliances with his paramour.”

Y/N pulled back her hand and crossed her arms over her chest, a sad shield against the wound he had cut. “I am happy. They love me. I love them. Why can you not see-”

“He has daughters older than you, Y/N. All of them bastards. Do you not believe you could find someone more suitable to call husband?”

“And you think Kirth Vance would be suitable?” She bit out, anger replacing the hurt. “I would give Oberyn eight more bastards if the gods allowed!” She bellowed as something protective struck at her stomach, even if the targets of her cousin’s ire were thousands of leagues away. “He loves me and I love him and Ellaria. He fought beside me, for me—for the gods-forsaken pile of brick and mortar because he knew I once called it home.”

“It is your home!” Edmure yelled in return. “You are a Tully-”

“I am Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell’s wife in all but name and I am going home!” Her chest heaved and she wiped a hand across her face, trying to calm herself before said anything else. “You are the Lord of Riverrun. Lord Paramount of the Trident. You are not a child. Your life has led to this moment. Do not forsake Hoster’s teachings for your learned meekness. He named you as his heir—be the man he knew you to be. Because I cannot and will not be.” And then she left, leaving Edmure alone.

Y/N pulled her fur-lined cloak a little tighter about her shoulders as she strode out to the stables. Qelōs was being tended to by the stable hand and her tack was waiting to be placed on her gleaming back. Full saddlebags were ready for one last journey South. Y/N had spent the last night in Riverrun’s Sept, praying for guidance and for her father’s soul one more time—another quiet goodbye. She thought it would be fitting to do it here, in his former home. And as the sun rose the following morning, it was the most at ease she had felt in almost a year.

“I am never coming this far North again,” Obara said, moving closer to her to try to get a bit of body heat. The large fur cloak and gloves were not enough, it seemed. Obara and Oberyn had led an envoy to the Riverlands to collect Y/N and ensure she was safely delivered back to Sunspear. Frost had started to stick to the grass around Riverrun, thin sheets of ice collected over patches of the rivers and Obara had been distraught about the temperature since she arrived with her father two days ago. Ellaria and the rest of the Sand Snakes had stayed in Dorne. Loreza and Dorea had apparently caught a bit of a fever with their first Winter and Oberyn and Ellaria both wanted to keep the rest of their daughters healthy. The little ones would be fine, but Ellaria and Oberyn always wanted to be sure.

Y/N chuckled at Obara’s plight and pulled a thick wool stole from one of her bags and wrapped it around Obara’s shoulders, making sure to tuck it high around her neck. “What of your plans to see Seagard? Hm? Lord Patrek will be devastated.”

Obara sniffed and looked away. “He must wait for Winter to end if he wishes to have me at his home. I am of Dorne. He-”

“Is in love with you, Obara. And Lord Mallister is amiable to the match if you wish it.” Y/N assumed tales of Obara saving his heir’s life and fighting beside the Riverlanders may have something to with Lord Mallister easing his views on who could be a possible match for his son. That, and Oberyn Martell being her father, a Prince of Dorne and the man who took Tywin Lannister’s head from his shoulders was a definite bargaining point. Y/N finished tucking the stole around her frigid companion. “But I am happy to simply see your face again.”

“Sap,” Obara said with a small smirk. “If I have to hear Father wax poetic about your eyes the entire ride to Dorne, I will be forced to murder you both.”

“Oh, I expect nothing less.”

They spoke a little longer, watching their horses be readied for the ride before one of the stable hands said, “Oh, Lord Tully! Good morrow!”

Y/N turned to see Edmure at the mouth of the stables. Roslin was at his side, a small smile on her delicate lips. Something was bundled in his left arm, his right still holding his cane. It had been a tumultuous two weeks within Riverrun’s halls. Edmure had stumbled when regaining his duties but fulfilled them with more confidence with each day. He had kept his conversations with Y/N at a minimum and had steadfastly refused to speak to Oberyn more than necessary when he first arrived. But Edmure softened. At almost an alarming rate. But perhaps that was simply Oberyn’s charm. His pervasive magnetism that could draw nearly everyone to his side if he wanted them. Edmure was no exception. And that gave Y/N a little comfort, to know that Edmure did not hate her betrothed as he had tried. Knowing her two families, no matter how different, were coming together was a solace. Riverrun would survive under Edmure’s lordship.

The pair stepped closer and Roslin helped Edmure press the bundle into Y/N’s arms. “It is a gift for you. A reminder of… of Riverrun.” Not of home. Not anymore.

Y/N looked down at the bundle and watched it move, the tip of the fabric peeling away to reveal a fluffy snout. Y/N quickly unwrapped the dog with a huff of a laugh as it wiggled in her hold. The pup fit comfortably in her arms and had the most beautiful black fur with a tuft of white on his chest.

“He is of the Riverlands, hearty and loyal. Even if Riverrun is no longer your home, I’d like… I’d like if you still had a piece of us with you.”

The pup squirmed in her grasp and raised up on unsteady legs to lick at her chin with a happy yip. A fortuitous distraction for both Edmure and Y/N as they tried to clear the tears from their eyes. Y/N nodded and pressed a kiss to the dog’s head before leaning up to kiss Edmure’s cheek. “He’s wonderful. Thank you, Edmure. A treasure to be sure.”

It was not an apology, not an outright one anyway. But Y/N accepted it just the same. It was a soft ending to a hard chapter.

But she was ready to start a new one.

And as Oberyn walked into the stables, a soft smile on his face, she knew it would be a good one.

The distance between Riverrun and Sunspear seemed so long and so short at the same time. Each night was spent in Oberyn’s arms, trying to reclaim the time she had lost. They would whisper about their plans for the future, of how they both wished Ellaria in their arms when the nights grew colder and colder.

But it was good. It was soft and gentle and eased the ache she had held against her heart like a shield since she had left his arms. It was good.

The pup had grown astonishingly fast. He often squirmed out of her grasp in the saddle to trot alongside their horses. If there were ever a body of water near the road, he quickly jumped into it to wet his fur and then happily scampered back into line, proud of himself.

“He is a little bear,” Oberyn once griped as the pup’s sharp teeth nipped at his leg when Oberyn had moved to help Y/N down from her horse. The pup seemed a little insistent on having Y/N’s attention at all hours and he only grew bolder as the distance from Sunspear grew shorter. Obara found her father’s frustration with the pup endlessly entertaining and would also lathe attention on the pup at any moment. She followed her father’s lead in calling him a little bear, much more affectionate in tone. And Y/N supposed the name just stuck. She called him her little river bear in High Valyrian, but settled on just calling him Gryves for short.

As they crossed under the stone arches of Sunspear and the crowds cheered, little Gryves happily pranced next to Qelōs and snapped his jaws, catching the flower petals the people of Sunspear had thrown into the air in celebration of their return. Ellaria and the Sand Snakes were waiting on the steps of the fortress and Y/N dismounted before Qelōs even stopped and raced up the stairs. Tears were in Ellaria’s eyes as Y/N wrapped her in her arms and she could taste them as she pressed her lips to hers again in again in a fevered frenzy as an incandescent warmth bloomed in her chest at just the simple touch of Ellaria’s skin. And it took Ellaria holding her still, gentle hands on the side of her face, to realize she was crying, too. “No more tears, my Tully,” Ellaria whispered. “You are home.”

A happy shriek had them pulling apart to see Dorea and Loreza bowled over on the steps being licked by Gryves whose entire fluffy body was shaking with how quickly he was wagging his tail.

Oberyn stepped to their side and kissed Ellaria soft and slow before pressing a kiss to Y/N’s smiling mouth.

Yes. She was home.

Gryves huffed for the third time, disturbing her attempt at sleep. Or maybe the dog knew she couldn’t sleep and was sharing in her plight. Y/N gave up after she heard him huff again and slipped out from under her blankets and padded over to her balcony, letting the cool breeze wash over her as she pulled the doors open. Gryves’ nails tapped against the stone beside her and they both walked to the railing, looking out over the still-bustling fortress.

Her wedding was tomorrow. Her dress was carefully hung and her maiden’s cloak alongside it. Daisy had been bouncing in each step in the last week, happy to have her friend back safely and to “finally see you married to your prince, my lady!” Daisy and Daemon’s own ceremony would be held the following day. People were buzzing about down below, readying for the festivities. While the ceremony would be small, Doran insisted on letting them have every finery they wanted. Y/N did not care if she had to marry in a threadbare sack and in bare feet and they only had blood oranges for their wedding dinner—she simply wanted to be married.

Gryves placed his front paws on the railing and looked out over the small crowd, too. He let out a soft ‘boof’ as he watched. He was still growing, his head now coming to her waist but he was still as playful as ever—and patient. Loreza had fashioned him a hat that looked peculiarly like an otter and he let the girl set it on his head and sat still long enough for the girls to coo over him before getting distracted by a gull he promptly chased into the sea. He was doted on by almost everyone who resided in or worked around Sunspear. (Oberyn was still trying to find a way to get the dog to like him and stop nipping at his leg whenever he tried to kiss Y/N.) Sarella was home (“For only a moment!” she insisted.) from the Citadel and the Sand Snakes were all together again and Y/N found them all to be wondrous company. Daisy and Daemon were still steadfastly in love, perhaps even more so that Daemon had returned unharmed. All of it was so idyllic. So perfect. And for a moment, Y/N once again wondered if the world was about to crash around her—but she quickly dismissed the thought and she thought of Ellaria telling her that happiness does not have limits and that she had the ability to choose every joy and happiness that was placed at her feet. And Y/N wanted to seize every last opportunity.

A knock at her door had her turning and Gryves kept to her side as she walked back into her rooms to open the door. Ellaria was on the other side with a soft smile and Gryves darted around her and into the darkened halls, probably in search of Loreza or Dorea. Y/N stepped back to let Ellaria in and softly shut the door behind her. Before Y/N could ask what she was doing, Ellaria had grasped at her face and pushed her lips to hers, easily delving into Y/N’s surprised mouth to lick and explore. Y/N faltered for a moment before letting her hands slide around Ellaria’s waist, bunching the silky fabric of her dressing robe between her fingers. Ellaria pulled away for a moment to press soft, wet kisses against Y/N’s cheek and down her neck, humming as she felt the thrumming pulse beneath the skin.

“I knew you would not be sleeping, my Tully.” Another kiss to Y/N’s panting mouth. “And I will have to call you something else after tomorrow, won’t I?” Ellaria’s laugh was light and her fingers started to trail up and down Y/N’s arms, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“You can call me whatever you desire,” Y/N said, tone breathy.

“And if I simply wanted to call you mine?”

“I am already yours.” Y/N leaned forward to press her forehead against Ellaria’s as her hands gently grasped Ellaria’s hands in hers, wrapping her fingers around her wrist. “I am yours and you are mine,” she whispered the vow against Ellaria’s lips. It was no Sept. There was not a Septon in sight nor any other trappings of the ceremony. But Y/N meant the vow as seriously as she would tomorrow with Oberyn.

And then Ellaria was kissing her again, tightening her grip on her wrists like she wanted to brand her touch to Y/N’s skin. “I am yours and you are mine.” Ellaria then dragged Y/N forward and spun her around before pressing a hand to her chest and pushing. Y/N didn’t even realize they had come so close to the bed until she fell onto it with a laugh, greedily grabbing at Ellaria’s legs as she climbed over her and stole another kiss against her smiling mouth. “You need to sleep, yes? I have two options for you.”

“Oh?”

Ellaria nodded and trailed her lips across Y/N’s chin, nipping at her jaw, before sliding down her neck again and letting her tongue dip into the notch between Y/N’s collarbones. “I can have you brought tea. Or…”

“Or…” Y/N played along, letting her hands slide up from Ellaria’s legs to her hips but her grip stuttered when Ellaria’s mouth suddenly pressed over her chest, tongue finding her nipple even through the cloth and teasing it to a hardened peak. When she was satisfied with one, she quickly did the same to the other.

“Or I can tire you out myself,” Ellaria said, situating herself with ease so she could lay her cheek against Y/N’s chest, undoubtedly listening to her fluttering heart. “Which would you prefer, my Tully?”

“You. Always you.”

Ellaria’s smile was bright even in the dark of the room as she sat straight and shuffled down the bed while signaling for Y/N to center herself in the blankets. She gracefully stretched out beside her slowly pushed the edge of Y/N’s chemise up, up, up until it exposed her lace-edged small clothes. “You’re always so pretty for me,” Ellaria mused before her fingers trailed over the front of them, already coaxing a moan from Y/N’s lips. “It has been too long since I’ve been able to touch you like this. You are never to leave us like that again.” She leaned down to kiss Y/N’s lips again, licking into her mouth. “Swear to me.”

“I swear it,” Y/N said, last word a breathless gasp as Ellaria’s talented fingers slipped beneath her small clothes and found her heat, ready and wet for her. Y/N had not even realized she had become so wet, only able to focus on Ellaria.

“Good.” Ellaria dragged the damp small clothes and dropped them to the floor. “So pretty,” Ellaria whispered as her fingers started to push through Y/N’s folds, gathering her slick before trailing up to her clit and circling it with just the right amount of pressure to have Y/N’s hips lifting from the featherbed. Again and again, Ellaria would push through Y/N’s folds, barely dipping into where she needed her most, as she pressed lazy, open-mouthed kisses against Y/N’s panting lips.

“Please,” Y/N near-pleaded. “Please.”

“And always so polite.” And then finally—finally—Ellaria curled her fingers into Y/N’s pussy in one single motion and delighted in Y/N’s high pitched whine and how the younger woman fisted her hands in the silk sheets at her sides. Ellaria leaned up just enough to seal her mouth over Y/N’s, all teeth and tongue and heavy, warm breaths as her fingers started to move, dragging in and out even as Y/N’s fluttering walls tried to pull them tight.

The familiar coil was starting to grow and unravel at an embarrassing rate and Y/N heard herself nearly wailing as it snapped and that delicious wave of pleasure washed over her. But Ellaria did not stop. Her fingers continued to curl inside her, Ellaria’s other hand pressed down against Y/N’s belly and pinned her to the bed. Y/N cried out at the burst of pressure she felt bloom and the coil started to wind itself again, now with an unfamiliar bite and sting that sang with each movement of Ellaria’s fingers.

“Oh please,” she said, words choked in her throat. She reached out to grasp at Ellaria’s wrist, pushing her further, letting her fingers brush against the spot only she and Oberyn could reach.

“That’s my good girl. Take what you need.”

Even through her hazed mind, Y/N keened at the praise. She wanted to be a good girl.

Ellaria licked across her panting mouth and bit at Y/N’s spit-slicked lips, smirking the entire time. Y/N’s walls fluttered around her fingers and she pressed her thumb against her clit with enough pressure to have Y/N cry against her mouth. Slick soaked her hand but she did not cease her movements, pushing her fingers into her until her hips pressed up against her grip and Y/N’s fingers clawed at her shoulders.

“El-Ellaria I-”

But she pressed her down to the dampened blankets and smiled. “So beautiful,” she said. “Give me another. My good girl.”

Her thighs shook, nearly clamping down over Ellaria’s arm as wave after wave of terrible pleasure wracked her body. The room blurred as her arms slid down Ellaria’s back to pull her close as if she were not the one inflicting this delicious torture. The sounds that came from Y/N as her fingers continued to move could only be described as lewd. Wet and frenzied.

“Give it to me,” Ellaria said, steady and low against her heated skin.

Y/N cried out as another jolt of blinding pleasure shot through her, hips finally lifting from the featherbed as her vision went white. Her heart continued to roar in her ears. Ellaria’s fingers slowed their assault before pulling out, leaving Y/N feeling empty and spent even as her body shivered with residual tremors. Ellaria’s glistening fingers dipped between her kiss-bitten lips and her tongue twisted and slid to gather everything she could. When she was finished, she shuffled down Y/N’s body to press a kiss against her wet cunt and Y/N let out a broken moan. Her dark eyes sparkled when she looked up at her. “One more.” She licked a broad stripe up from her hole to her clit and Y/N keened, nerves alight and near painful. But the long strokes of Ellaria’s tongue continued, broken up by little kitten licks against her clit or dipping inside. Every flick of Ellaria’s glorious tongue brought Y/N closer to the precipice but it came sooner than either of them anticipated, dribbling out of her with a broken sort of cry and a new puddle between her thighs. With a final kiss, Ellaria rose and walked to the vanity near the open balcony and pulled a golden cloth from its pile before dipping it into the small basin of water Daisy had left for Y/N to wash her face earlier. She slid onto the bed again and wiped between Y/N’s still shaking thighs with a gentle touch, delighting when she shivered. “Are you all right?” Ellaria asked as her tongue peeked from between her lips out to clean the shining mess from around mouth.

Y/N sighed with a tired smile. “I am perfect.” She reached out toward Ellaria’s soft skirts and felt the silk slide between her fingers. “But I would like to please you, too.”

Ellaria smiled and dropped the damp fabric to the floor. “Are you sure?”

“I am. But I hope you do not mind guiding me.”

Ellaria slipped back onto the bed and her knees bracketed Y/N’s thighs as the younger woman gently pulled the skirt up to reveal Ellaria’s uncovered mound, shining in the candlelight. Y/N’s hands slid from her waist to the backs of her thighs, urging Ellaria up toward her face. Ellaria had taught her many things, one of them being how to give her pleasure with just her fingers and Y/N had delighted in the taste of her love. But, in truth, Y/N had been fascinated by watching Oberyn make Ellaria cum with his wicked tongue. She wanted a taste from the source, too.

“By the gods, you are perfect,” Ellaria murmured holding her skirts higher so she could look to see Y/N’s face between her legs. She reached down to curl her hand around the back of Y/N’s head, pulling her up to meet the crux of her thighs.

Y/N quickly licked a short but firm stripe from Ellaria’s hole to her clit, earning a soft sigh in return. The bitterly sweet taste of Ellaria was heavenly and Y/N quickly, selfishly, licked again and then wiggled her tongue against Ellaria’s hole, trying to collect as much as she could.

“That’s it.” Ellaria’s grip tightened on her head and Y/N licked again and again before taking a chance and pulling her clit into her mouth and sucking. They both sunk into the pillows.

Y/N reached up and around to grasp at Ellaria’s hips as her licks grew bolder, encouraged by Ellaria’s moans. They grew louder as her tongue started to delve and lick and press. Ellaria would sometimes murmur instructions, “to the left” “right there” “a little harder, my darling” and Y/N followed each with wild abandon and squealed when Ellaria pressed down onto her mouth and moved her hips, grinding against her tongue.

“So good,” She panted. “So good.”

Y/N ate her out in earnest, sloppy and spit sliding out of the corner of her lips between covetous licks. Ellaria could suffocate her like this easily—and Y/N would die happy.

Exploring fingers slid down and Y/N simply pressed against the bundle of nerves and smiled when Ellaria wailed in response, head tilted back to press the sound into the sticky night air. Her hips moved faster. Y/N did all she could to keep up, to give Ellaria as much as she had given her. The hold on her head tightened and Ellaria suddenly stilled above her with a groan. The thighs on either side of Y/N’s head shook and the taste of Ellaria flooded her mouth. Y/N pulled her fingers away from her clit but gave a few final licks before Ellaria pushed off and then sat beside her on the pillows.

Ellaria caught her breath with a laugh and then leaned down to press a kiss to Y/N’s lips. “I cannot wait to teach you everything I know.”

Ellaria kissed her again before Y/N rose and wet her own bit of cloth to wipe between Ellaria’s thighs. She lathed a kiss against each of Ellaria’s legs before pulling her skirts down again as she lounged on the featherbed. “I will be a dutiful student.”

The laugh Ellaria let out was tired but joyful. And they spoke for a few more stolen moments, Ellaria constantly checking to make sure Y/N was not overworked or feeling strange as they shared slow kisses in the moonlight. “Will you be able to rest now?” Ellaria asked as Y/N yawned.

“You have thoroughly exhausted me.”

Ellaria’s smile grew and she kissed Y/N one more time before she slipped off the bed again. “Then I shall see you in the morning, Princess.”

Y/N smiled at the sound of the title. “In the morning, my love.”

A/N: Please let me know what you guys think! I really appreciate it. :)

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