#he has one braincell and it is full of rage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years ago

Note

Tumblr has been eating messages and requests lately so the lovely @ateliefloresdaprimavera sent in a request to my inbox and I figured I'd still put it in a request form so they can get the notification when it comes out!

The request is for an OC!Henderson!Reader (only OC because making the character a biologically sibling of a character implies assigned race/ethnicity and Dustin is white) x Billy Hargrove. Kind of enemies to lovers where he starts off kind of skeptical of her but eventually comes around and they become like The Couple of the Hawkins group.

I pray this is good.

If you asked anyone in the group of misfits that I watch over, 'who's the leader', they wouldn't hesitate to say that it's Steve. Steve has been the staple babysitter for the longest time, taking care of my younger brother Dustin and his friends, for almost three years. He's a good role model, especially since he dropped his douchebag attitude and developed a personality.

I mean, I think that anyone would improve upon themselves and gain a few braincells back after dropping Carol and Tommy as friends, let's be honest.

He was just a solid dude with a good head on his shoulders and after all of the near death experiences and weird multi-dimensional demons we've fought, they couldn't have asked for a better role model.

Except for me.

Steve was deemed the team mom for the longest time and has even started to develop some maternal instincts; putting himself on the line for the safety of the kiddos, giving the unwarranted advice, not totally understanding the term TMI, and he's annoyed by them a perfect amount for him to be deemed 'mom'.

And yeah, he might be the mom of the group, but I'm the daddy.

Every single thing that mine and Dustin's dad missed out on, I was there for those kids. I was the dad who went and got the milk and actually came home. I was, for them, what I needed from such a young age and it's ended up mending that empty space in Dustin's heart that he's felt every day that he's grown up without a dad.

But every birthday, I was there, every school project and Hellfire campaign, I was prepared to help them get ready, every frustrated tear, every world ending catastrophe- all you could see was me. A second parent to all of them, an older sister- anything they needed, they could find in me.

But somewhere between the mind flayer and Vecna, I got a bit lost.

Maybe not lost but distracted to say the least.

I've always hated people who use a position of power to inflict pain upon other people. You see a lot these days in men, especially my age, getting ahead of themselves and becoming way too full of themselves. Science would tell you that they're just wired differently, that men have this ego thing and it typically relates back to being treated poorly by one of their parents.

It's ironic how the same types of abuse occurs in females, yet, most of the time, we're not raging psychopaths. Most of the time.

The first time I saw Billy Hargrove becoming a bit too snippy with Max, I watched and waited for something to happen- something big enough to give me a reason to intervene. It's not like I had been waiting to punch him across his silly, stupid, handsome face, or anything.

Except I totally had been waiting for that exact opportunity.

And boy, oh boy, did I get it.

I watch from the steps of the arcade as Billy storms around the other side of the car to glare down at Max, a menacing smile on his lips as he mutters quiet words to her. The red head looks tense, her eyes looking anywhere but his as he quietly chastises her, his fists clenching at his sides and she goes to finally open her mouth in words of rebuttal.

I know how this goes, the anger and the frustration, he was bound to snap sooner or later with Max being out and about so much with me and the others. I could only imagine the back talk that he was getting from his dad every time that Max was out a little too late and, though Max didn't see it, I saw that every time she slipped up, Billy was the one getting punished for it.

But somewhere between Billy cornering her against the car and practically spitting in her face, Max finally has enough and steps away from Billy, pushing him a bit with her shoulder. I can tell by the look in his eyes that it would not fly well and he almost immediately reaches forwards with unrelenting speed, wrapping his fingers tightly around her wrist and he tugs her back towards him.

I'm on my feet in a moments notice, marching over towards them as Max catches me out of the corner of her eyes, urging me not to get involved but there isn't a care in the world. He would not get away with being so cruel to her and he wouldn't dare lay a finger on me.

My hands push him roughly away from Max, his eyes slitting and his lips part to argue but he doesn't get a second to speak before my hand is slapping him across his face. He groans loudly at the sting, immediately reaching up to coddle his sore cheek as I tug Max into my side.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He spits, the red mark on his cheek only making me grin as I rub up and down Max's trembling back.

"Not your bitch and neither is she."

All it took was for his fingers to wrap around the pale girls wrist, tugging her towards him to spit some awful words in his face and I was pushing him away from her, slapping a hand right across his face. He was stunned for a few moments, gawking at me with wide eyes, a smirk too, before muttering out a 'who's this?' to Max moments later.

I explained that I had recently taken her under my wing and that obviously no one was looking out for her or her safety. He was almost annoyed at first, eyes looking me up and down, almost trying to figure me out as if I had an ulterior motive.

But he learned eventually that there were no ulterior motives, I slapped him because he was being a dick and I hung out with Max because she needed someone to look out for her and care for her.

Which, apparently, I would end up doing for both of them months down the line.

Billy and I, at first, were in no means friends. We weren't amicable, we didn't like each other or have any common ground other than the fact that we knew the same people. And I had met him in his life guard days, where he was the most self deluded version of himself. Maybe it was the mind flayer but maybe it wasn't, maybe the supernatural aspect just brought out the even more accurate, terrifying version of himself.

It scared Max but it scared me just as much. We knew he was dangerous, that he was capable of a lot of things, but we never realized just how much of an asset he would become when the evil side of Hawkins took over.

"Billy, this isn't you, stop." Max mutters behind me as I hold my hand up to the glass, looking through the sauna window at Billy but he doesn't look like him. His eyes are more sunken in, hopeless and completely at the will of something else, something distant and far away from me and from the rest of us. He's normally got a look of anger behind his eyes but he looks nothing but calm.

The calm always comes before the storm right?

He just looks at me, ignoring the bickering behind me, tracing his gaze over the grooves and dips of my face, as if he's trying to place me in his memories- like the mind flayer is sifting through Billy's memories to find where I fit in his life.

He pauses, a small smile stretching across his lips in subtle familiarity and it makes me flush, nervous that the mind flayer would say something, that he would speak horrible things about me from deep within Billy's subconscious. But he doesn't, his lips part as if he's going to say something but he doesn't, he just looks from me to Max who stands beside me, her eyes staring into his lifeless ones.

"Why is he acting like he doesn't know you?" Lucas asks behind us and my chin cranes to look back at him, sighing with a heavy heart. I know exactly why he looks like he doens't know me and there's one other person in this room who knows it even better. My eyes turn to Will next who already has a knowing, terrified look on his face.

"It's like when I was possessed by the mind flayer, I didn't even know who Bob was o-or Hopper." Will explains, a look of realization passing through everyone's expression at the memory of Will being completely and utterly gone.

Just like Billy is right now.

When he survived the mind flayer, no one really knew what to do with him.

Here he was, retired bad guy who had his body used by an inter-dimensional freak who needed him to carry out his bidding. He was trapped in his own body for the longest time as is, following exactly in his fathers footsteps- racist, dark, demanding, dominant, judgmental- as to not upset him, to make his dad feel a sliver of pride.

Daddy issues, am I right?

When he came out of the mind flayer, he was hospitalized for the huge gash on his abdomen, Max and I stood at the end of the bed and just game planned for hours on how to deal with him; we had no clue if he would remember anything that happened or if he would be different like Will.

We imagined that if he did remember everything, he would hate himself, beat himself up just like Will did and need hours and hours of supervision and help. But Max explained that he wouldn't take it, he would never take help or comfort especially when he felt like he didn't deserve it.

But when he finally woke up after days, he was terrified. He didn't trust that we were there, that what he was experiencing was real or not. He kept looking through Max and I, not focusing on us long enough to even recognize who we were for a few days. It took weeks of therapy and patience for him to actually start to open up to us about how it was like.

He described that the mind flayer would show him images, dream-like pictures, of the people around him and he never knew whether it was real or not and it led to him not knowing what actually happened over the course that he was 'taken over'.

My eyes widen at the sight of Billy's gaze locked on me, a slight familiar look behind his tired, red eyes. He has dark circles around his hues, his hair matted against his forehead from sweat. I just hand him a glass of water which he takes almost immediately, lip quivering as he takes a sip. Billy's eyes are the definition of sunken in as he looks around the room, jaw gritting at the sight of Max sleeping beside his bed, tears strained on her pale cheeks. He almost looks sad that she's sad, biting at his lip that's already cracked and broken. He looks to me next, his lips parting as the realization crumbles down onto him that he's finally back in his own body, safe and sound.

"How many people did I hurt?" He asks, voice gravely and hoarse as his lips tug down into a frustrated frown. My heart aches at the sight of him showing a sliver of vulnerability, a side to him that not a lot of people have actually had the pleasure to see. Knowing this is hard on him, I take a breath, realizing that the last thing he needs is to be reminded of the horrific pain that we all went through. He doesn't need anymore demons. I know that he's probably beating himself up as it is at the thought of being completely out of control, watching himself hurting everyone else around him without the ability to stop.

So, to take the tension off, my mind does the only thing that I can think of doing.

Cracking a joke.

"Because of the mind flayer or in general?" I tease quietly, having some apprehension, not wanting to make him upset. But moments later, I watch his face relax a bit at the non-judgmental tone in my voice. A small, tired smile spreads across his lips, his shoulders drooping a bit back into the bed at the playful edge that's cut through the tension in the room.

"You're still being an asshole to me, sweetheart? Really?"

After that, he didn't talk about it unless it was absolutely necessary.

Still to this day it's like pulling teeth.

But the only silver-lining with the town going to shit, with Billy getting scarily wounded, was that it was the final straw that sent his dad over the edge. When Billy was released from the hospital, we all found out that his dad had left in the time that we were there, waiting for him to come back to his normal self and to finally be released. Max's mom had been at the hospital with us, staying overnight for days on end while his dad was at home packing his shit and taking all of the money from their joint bank account.

He ran away with his tail between his legs, leaving his son, wife and step daughter to fend for themselves.

I was the one who actually ended up finding the trailer opening at the park, Max's eyes dulling a bit at the glum vibe that was given off by the small community but at least Eddie lived across the street. That would mean that Lucas would be over there along with the rest of the gang.

Speaking of Lucas, Max and I both held it over Billy's head that he was an asshole to Lucas the most and that the boy deserved more than an apology from the recovering man. Billy was hesitant at first, not understanding the need to apologize or maybe he just didn't want to admit that he was a terrible person.

He claimed it was ingrained in his mind from a young age and, maybe he's right, but that was no longer a sound excuse for him to use with me around. He eventually apologized to the boy and the rest of the friend group, including Steve, even though he was embarrassed and felt utterly stupid.

Max and I even believed his apology was sincere.

But the true reason why he hated me so much at first was because I could pick him apart. He hated me at first because I was not afraid to call him out on his bullshit whether it was regarding Max or school, or even his racist comments towards Lucas; I would be there to chew his ass off and make him walk off like a kicked puppy.

But eventually, that anger and annoyance shifted to familiar care and even admiration through all that we had been through and everything that Hawkin's put him through. Eventually it would come out that his mother left at a young age, Max would realize why he was so bitter about her mom, realizing he just didn't trust or like woman that much. He was always afraid of making new friendships and relationships out of fear that he would become too much like his father and that they would run for the hills as quickly as they came.

It was weird to see him softening, to see him apologizing and making right with the people around him, not because we told him to, but because he wanted to be done with it and put it behind him. It was weird when the both of us realized that we were actually becoming friends and it was even more shocking when we realized there was more than friendship between the two of us.

But no matter how strong our personalities were, there was no ignoring our feelings when Max was constantly pointing them out.

"You guys are terrible liars." Max suddenly speaks up from the backseat after minutes of silence, taking Billy and I off guard as we look to each other before stopping at a red light, turning in our spots to look back at the red head.

"Where on earth did that come from?" I ask, deadpanning a smile with a tired look. I know that she knows. She sort of, kind of, walked in on Billy and I moments before we left for the arcade, my mind still replaying the moment that just happened not even twenty minutes ago. I was wondering when she was going to bring it up but I didn't think it would be today let alone right now.

Max just smiles with a shit eating grin and points between Billy and I.

"You two, you're just terrible liars. You act like no one sees it but we all do." She says simply, almost as if she's proud for figuring it out, but I continue to protest and feign ignorance, my brows furrowing, gaze turning to Billy. He just shakes his head with wide eyes, before turning his attention back to the road.

"What do you mean?" Billy asks, looking at the girl through the rearview mirror as I watch him, his fingers tightening around the wheel in anticipation as Max laughs behind us.

"I mean, how you guys are fucking each other and giving each other heart eyes. You think we don't see it but we do- I see it-"

"Max-"

"No, Billy- look," she pauses, sitting up to look at him from between the seats," you've been through shit in the last few months. If you found comfort in Y/n, I get it- so did I. But be fucking honest about it and show her off cuz she deserves to be shown off."

As thrilled and supportive as Max was, Dustin was not as thrilled to find out that Billy and I were together.

Maybe it was because I'm his older sister who really never entertained any sort of relationships with people. I was always there, always responsible for him and the rest of the group, especially after everything that happened with Will. No one would've understood the huge secret that Hawkins was hiding and it's not like I could exactly hide that from someone when dating them. So I just waited and hoped that someone would get involved in the mess and become a potential suitor.

But it just never happened.

Eddie wasn't my type and I don't think I was his, Steve and I were like platonic parents of the kiddos, and everyone else was taken or thinking of someone else. It was just complicated, so I stuck to my role as the older sister and focused on protecting the people who I love.

Dustin also has been more protective over me than anyone else in my life so it wasn't exactly easy to date with him breathing down the back of my neck. Any new friend or crush that I would have, he'd ask an impossible amount of questions and pry into any sort of business that I have. I couldn't keep anything from him so it's not like it was easy when I actually had to come clean to him and tell him that Billy and I were pursuing each other on the down low.

Dustin just didn't understand and that in itself, to me, was understandable. He didn't see all the behind the scenes stuff, only hearing about how Billy had become nicer to Max and I, and how he stopped terrorizing Lucas and owned up to his toxic, oppressive behavior. Dustin really didn't believe it and, to be honest, he had no reason to believe it.

But, days after telling him, Dustin told the rest of the group and eventually they all rounded up and sat us down, forcing us to explain 'what happened' and why all of a sudden we were closer than before.

"This is a joke, right?" Steve asks with a frown, pointing between Billy and I who sit awkwardly on the couch in Eddie's trailer. I send him a quick glance, asking him quietly to take this one. I was in charge of telling Dustin and explaining how we fell for each other to Max but he was in charge of explaining it to everyone else.

The group looks at us, confused and full of questions, all of them silently begging us to explain how this relationship came about.

"Not a joke, Harrington." Billy sighs, looking down at his lap before reaching over to take my hand in his. A few gasps sound out from around the room, my eyes rolling as my head flops back to rest against the couch. "Not that it's any of your goddamn business but, yeah, we're together." He says with a forced smile, looking around the room with a 'well?' expression, begging anyone else to just say something.

"I'm just confused as to when this happened?" Robin scoffs, reaching up to rub her hands down her face before looking to me, wondering why I never opened up to her about my feelings for Billy but there's some truth behind the fact that he snuck up on me in a way.

"Me too honestly." Dustin chuckles and my jaw drops, feeling utterly betrayed because I thought I was passed explaining this to him. "I'm confused as to when it happened. Was it after the mind flayer but before Vecna or sometime other than that?" His question makes my head spin, especially because Billy and I never actually talked about when our feelings developed for one another.

One day, they where just there.

"The confusion thickens." Eddie chuckles, clapping his hands, taking the attention off of Billy and I as the group looks to him. "Let's leave the lovebirds alone and maybe talk about something a little more fascinating because I'm sure we all can assume that this 'relationship' definitely started with them hate fucki-"

"Ew Eddie- gross."

Maybe it was the effort that Billy was putting into changing himself and being less like his dad, maybe it was his sudden kindness towards Max and her mom, though he still held some sort of annoyance towards both of them; something pushed me towards him and I couldn't explain it.

Maybe it was trauma.

Eventually, Billy would slowly acclimate to the group and helping out in the more supernatural aspects of the town, hating the rural space more than he did before. He felt unsafe and unsteady now knowing what was actually out there, hiding under the surface of our homes.

But now he had something that he never had before. He had people, an actual family and friends. He was done being the new king of Hawkins, he was done with the fighting and the bullying. He was trying his best to settle into being an actual human, with actual goals and relationships with people around him.

People like me.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane2828 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi

@crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee @storytellingwitht

#billy #billy x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things fic

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crossroadsfossil · 3 years ago

Text

Lizard quirks and courting birds

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Characters: Dabi, Spinner, Mentioned Hawks, League of Villains

Wc:6,246

Tags: League of Villains as Family, Another smidgen of Dabi and Spinner bonding reluctantly, Spinner has additional aspects to his quirk, Spinner POV, Spinner watching these two dumbasses fall in love and no one is comfortable especially spinner, minor world building,minor additions to character backstories, Spinner has the braincell and wishes he didn't

Ao3 link:

Summary:

Spinner has a secondary aspect to his quirk. It’s simple, really. He can see where people have touched each other.

It’s awkward now that Dabi and Hawks are fucking.

It’s only going to get worse when they start being more.

======================

Spinner got his quirk as a child, much like all children do. As he passed his fourth birthday, the anticipated changes began. His family had a history of lizard and gecko quirks, so when he started growing soft scales, no one was alarmed. His father had a snake-like tail that could grip things like an additional hand, and his mother had a forked tongue and scales that created an ‘exotic pattern’. His older sister took after their mother, with scales scattered over her skin like freckles and pit organs that blended in with them. It gave her a very striking look, and it looked like he was going to end up resembling his sister more than either parent.

Unfortunately, he drew the short end of the stick. His scales were certainly softer than his sisters, but that was the only positive difference. Instead of staying freckle-like on his face and shoulders, the scales rapidly spread over his entire body. If that wasn’t bad enough, his nails grew into talons and the bones of his face started to grow decidedly animalistic.

That wasn’t the full extent of his quirk either. He minimized it the best he could, describing it as ‘sticking to walls’. When he tried to explain what it actually was to people, it ended poorly.

‘Sticking to walls’ was generally seen as a boring and relatively useless quirk, despite the fact that, in his opinion, it was neither. Unfortunately, during high school, it wasn’t seen as boring and useless. It was seen as creepy and unsettling and turned him into a social pariah after the rumor started.

The rumor that he liked to climb into places a teenage boy shouldn’t be. Like bathrooms. Especially a teenage boy who looked the way he did.

He dropped out of school that year.

In retrospect, he should have kept his mouth shut, rather than trying to be a hero. He wanted to help one of the few people who had been sweet to him, to spare her some heartache. He wanted to return the kindness she had shown him during the year. She didn’t take him informing her about a cheating boyfriend and a lying ‘best friend’ well.

Her disbelief added fuel to a fire that was already raging, and the ‘creep’ label was practically tattooed on by now.

Spinner wasn’t surprised. Hawks did the perfunctory introduction to him and then fluttered over to the rest of the league. If past experience held, Hawks would, at best, greet him during future functions and ignore him. Spinner didn’t mind. It’s expected, hell, it was damn near an unspoken social rule. People gravitated to non-mutant people. Even other mutants did it, especially if they were in that narrowly accepted range of ‘pretty’.

He learned an important fact that day; ‘heroism’ was only for pretty people.

Pretty people like the number-two hero who was brightly introducing himself to everyone.

Spinner was used to it, and he was used to reading body language to gauge threat level, and something about the hero was ringing alarm bells. Hell, by the time the meeting ended, he was struggling not to call ‘bullshit’. The hero may have brought good intelligence they could use, and he may have been vouched for by Dabi, but Spinner didn’t trust Dabi to begin with. He trusted Hawks even less.

Good luck explaining that to Tomura though. He and Tomura may be good friends, one of the best that Spinner’s ever had, but for some reason, Shigaraki always gave Dabi a long leash and even more leeway. A dangerous amount of leeway, in his opinion. He was just the team’s token mutant. The token mutant with a quirk so invisible he was practically useless. What did he know? He was just a high-school dropout who turned into a NEET and got radicalized by an extremist.

Hell, he was pretty sure Dabi didn’t even go to high school. He didn’t even think the man had even been homeschooled like Tomura was.

Spinner wasn’t a fool.

He knew how the world viewed him. He knew the stats the heroes gave him. He knew he was the only one in the league ranked at a ‘C’. Out of the five high school dropouts, he was often perceived as the least intelligent, despite being as old as Toga had been when he dropped out.

A loud laugh brought Spinner out of his thoughts. Hawks had an arm slung around Twice’s neck, chatting with the league’s friendliest extrovert.

It’s not like he could tell that the hero wasn’t as sincere as Dabi was making him out to be. It’s not like he could tell that Dabi and Hawks’ relationship was about as professional as Toga’s blood kink was mainstream. After all, he was only the token heteromorph. What could he know?

Yeah… what did he know?

Certainly, he couldn’t know more than their so-called ‘recruiter’.

It wasn’t like he could see the handprints all over Hawks’ pants and jacket, or the matching set on Dabi.

You see, Shuichi and his sister were more similar to each other than they were to their parents. His sister’s quirk wasn’t just the pretty scales. She had pit organs. Functional pit organs, which meant she could ‘see’ in infrared. He couldn’t do the same, he could still ‘see’ more than the average person.

Oh, didn’t Spinner mention?

His quirk had a secondary aspect to it.

He could see where people touched.

To be honest, it wasn’t that simple. He looked into it before he dropped out of school. He assumed that the same things that gave his sister a snake-like sense of smell might be similar to his own ability. He didn’t have a forked tongue or pit organs (thank gods for that, he was already ugly enough), but he did ‘see’ remnants of physical contact. He figured out you had to have your hands bare to leave behind colors. What he also gleaned, from months of self-study, was that it probably had something to do with the eccrine gland system and how his body interpreted ‘scent’. People generated sweat and oils and a bunch of other chemicals throughout the day and often expressed them through the skin. Which made sense. The skin was the largest organ in the body.

That’s right.

He could see colors.

Stupid, useless magic-shrimp meme colors.

It was an incredibly fancy way of saying he saw people’s body fluids, often in loud and fluorescent shades.

It was gross and his explanation wasn’t entirely accurate, but he deemed it accurate enough for a high school dropout.

Whatever the technical aspect to his quirk was, it basically allowed him to see when ‘chemicals’ were transferred from one person to another. He could tell the intensity of the feelings and over the years had figured out what colors meant which emotion. He also knew he couldn’t see every single touch. He could only see the ones that meant something. Casual touches wouldn’t register. His brain filtered out the mundane, everyday touches people received during the day. That was probably a defense mechanism and probably for the best. He would go mad if he had to see every single touch and had to try and parse out what each color meant.

He was already having trouble ignoring how often Hawks and Dabi were touching each other.

======================

Those two touched.

A lot.

Spinner caught the cold beer tossed to him. This was the best part of summer - Lazy days and cold beer and being able to indulge the lizard side of him just a little bit more than usual. It did have the unfortunate side effect of melting away his usual suspicion and wariness. He was almost feeling downright fond of Hawks and felt like tolerating Dabi. Then again, the two of them had been spending more and more time with the league as of late. Hawks especially had been a persistent presence. Spinner should worry more, but his current thought process was that if the hero was going to do anything, he would have done it already. Besides, Hawks brought snacks and beer.

“Hawks!” Spinner shouted, scrambling to sit up. Hawks was already across the room, handing out snacks from a bag. Hawks looked up at his name, doing a double-take at Spinner’s murderous expression. For some reason, something about it made the hero’s lips twitch into a smile. Spinner let his own muzzle twitch into a snarl. He was two seconds away from getting his sword and- Hawks pulled out Spinner’s requested beer, frosty, and handed it to a feather that floated over to Spinner. At the last minute, it pulled just out of reach.

A beer that didn’t feel like the usual pop-tab.

He looked at the beer Hawks tossed him.

It was not beer.

“Hydrate, then beer.” Hawks chided, lifting his feather higher as Spinner made a grab for the beer.

“I will stab you.”

Hawks laughed, which Spinner thought was rather rude, considering he stabbed people before. Often.

“You have to catch me first.” He teased, although the feather descended. Spinner snagged the drink before Hawks could change his mind. He did hold off on opening it immediately. One, because he didn’t want it to foam all over him, and two, the hero did have a point. It was too hot not to hydrate.

He cracked open the sports water and chugged it, maintaining eye contact with the hero as he did. Once half of it was gone, he cracked open his beer.

Hawks chuckled to himself and made his rounds, checking on everyone - still the hero.

Then again, Mister Compress probably appreciated someone acting like a functional adult. Not that they weren’t, but Spinner was well aware that each member of the group would sometimes fixate on things and neglect other areas of their life, inevitably leading to Mister Compress checking on them like a worried hen. Even now, he was trying, despite it being too hot for the man to do much besides sit in front of a small fan, his usual coat and vest stripped away. It was hot enough that he had even shed his slacks and mask, balaclava included. It wasn’t often they got to see Mister’s face.

Hell, everyone was getting an eyeful today. Spinner was stripped down to his shorts and a tank top, and Shigaraki was down to just his boxers, as was Jin. The last time he saw Toga, she was knotting the bottom of a stolen t-shirt under her ribcage after showing Spinner a way to keep his hair off his neck.

The only people who weren’t in varying states of undress were Hawks and Dabi. Judging by the colors he could see all over Dabi’s clothes, they were hiding what probably was an impressive array of marks from their love-making. No, that wasn’t right. Hate-fucking? It was closer to hate-fucking. Or some sort of tension release. Maybe they were just incredibly horny for each other (and he could lie and state he didn’t see what they saw in each other, but he had eyes. Eyes that saw a little too much, but he wasn’t blind to the fact that they were both good looking).

The colors they left were too washed out and matte to be anything else, and they barely lasted an hour on each other.

Spinner scowled into his beer at the sudden realization that they only last an hour, maybe two max. He didn’t want to know that much about those two. It was probably better neither of them ditched their coats. As many colors as he kept seeing smeared over their clothes, it would be ten times worse if they were down to their bare skin. The combination of colors, hickeys, bruises, and bite marks would be too much for him (he was betting one of them had a biting kink. It was the one thing he and Toga agreed on regarding those two). Let alone whatever else they had. Hawks didn’t have as many colors on his coat, but there were an unsettling amount around his wrist and neck.

Spinner didn’t want to know.

He could already glean too much from that little bit of information. He didn’t want any more clues or context. Being able to see how many times Hawks grabbed Dabi’s ass in a week was already too much.

… It just sucked to see them around the base fully clothed like that; just looking at them made the room feel hotter, and not in a sexy way. It was more a sympathy-heat-stroke thing.

Spinner finished his beer, returning to sipping at the sports water and the game tournament at his side. It wasn’t for video games, else he’d be winning right now, but one of the board games Tomura wasn’t familiar with. Toga and Twice were doing their very best to ‘catch’ Tomura up on the ‘usual experiences’ he had missed out on.

The blues on Tomura were new. There was a large splat of color against his side where Toga leaned against him between turns, and as he reached for a token, he caught sight of blue covering Tomura’s palm, probably from Twice just high-fiving him. The blues weren’t as rich as those that Toga and Twice left on each other, but they were a solid, bright blue. If experience taught him anything, the marks would probably linger for hours.

Barely half an hour in and the three were covered in shades of blue.

It was fucking adorable.

Toga and Twice were almost always covered in blues. What had started as soft, light blue between the two quickly turned into the deep, rich, soft blues of intense friendship. They were so dark and rich that they were bordering on almost fraternal indigo.

He glanced down at his own arms, seeing a similar mark on his own palm, also from the excited high-five from Twice earlier. It was almost as bright as the one Tomura sported.

It was a little baffling.

When Tomura brushed against him and left smears of light blue against his skin, he knew it was an affection born out of a shared love of video games and the long nights they spend doing raids together and talking tactics.

With Jin? He didn’t really know what he brought into Twice’s life. He wasn’t attached at the hip like Twice and Toga were, nor did he share a quiet camaraderie with him like Twice and Dabi did. He definitely didn’t match up to the relationship Twice had with Hawks, where the two would chatter a mile a minute with each other… So… What did he-

He shook his head, flopping back onto the ground and staring up at the slow-moving ceiling fan. It wouldn’t do to worry too much about it. He wasn’t sure how or why Jin viewed him with such affection, but it warmed his chest regardless.

He was going to enjoy having friends while it lasted.

======================

Something…odd… was happening in the league. Spinner wasn’t sure if he liked it. Yes, he was, in general, supportive of the league as a whole growing closer together, although it was part pragmatism (since it meant they fought together better), and part selfish hedonism. He wasn’t surprised as the colors each league member left behind began to shift into deeper, richer colors. He wasn’t even surprised when more colors were added or nuanced patinas started appearing.

The league had ceased to be a group of like-minded, goal-oriented individuals. It was even starting to stop being a group of friends. They were more like family now.

Except Dabi.

Dabi had stringently maintained his distance with the league with a persistence that bordered on obsession. He fought to keep his dealings with the league clinical and professional. The few, rare times Dabi touched them and left behind marks backed this up. Every single person received an almost identical, small, short-lived smear of gray. The only two who didn’t warrant gray were Tomura, who received a pale silver that spoke of a spoonful of respect, and Jin, who had a few damning smudges of blue left on his hands and shoulders.

It didn’t stop there. It was like Jin’s friendship with Hawks opened the floodgates of the hero’s affections.

Then again, the marks on Jin weren’t surprising.

Jin was easy to adore and in turn, was easily adored. Hawks was a perfect example of that, of how fast Jin could make people love him. The professional, light grays quickly faded into a misty powder blue and then darkened with each hour.

Toga and Hawks slid right into an almost sibling-like teasing, only confirmed by the purple that Hawks left in Toga’s hair after one night of trying- and failing, to braid it.

Spinner spat out his drink when Dabi took over, showing the hero the proper way to braid hair. He left even more purple in Toga’s hair than Hawks had, with blue swirling through it so that by the end of the night, Toga’s hair resembled the galactic hairstyles that was in the magazines she liked reading. It was a shame she couldn’t see the starry night in her hair. She would have loved how it looked.

Hawks, and by extension Dabi, even left colors on him. Smudges of blue that surprised him every time Spinner caught sight of the fingerprint-sized marks.

The more time Hawks (and in turn, Dabi), spent with the team, the more the two of them unintentionally grew attached to the league.

Neither man liked it, either.

Hawks was the opposite. Instead of avoiding them, he was constantly in their orbit, and if he wasn’t with them, he was with Dabi. When Hawks was uncomfortable, he stopped by more, trying to encourage conversations with each member of the league. He listened harder and was almost, well, hawk-like in his attention. It was like he was trying to see or hear something that would put him off… and sometimes… it seemed to work. The colors he would leave behind would dim, would turn pastel and matte, and a shade lighter than they had been earlier that day. They would often remain washed out for days, but it was always, always temporary.

Whenever Dabi caught himself relaxing into it, he would figuratively pivot the opposite direction. Throughout meetings, he would radiate his desire to leave. If the meeting went too long, Spinner could practically see the man vibrating with sheer desperation. He left a sheen of sickly green over everything he touched. As soon as the meeting ended, he would attempt to emotionally distance himself from them by physically doing so.

They wouldn’t see him for the rest of the week.

Spinner thought it was bad watching the hate-fucking with its ruddy, speckled orange marks transition into something that could actually be called friendship, even contentedness. With the two of them sliding into actual friendship, he was forced to watch the assgrab and other groping increase to frankly obscene levels. He was sure they were being incredibly subtle, but with the way his quirk worked, he got a neon sign every. single. time. they engaged in displays of horny.

With each other, Dabi and Hawks were even worse.

It was like seeing a train crash.

Thank god he wasn’t the only one who noticed. He caught Compress shooting them beleaguered looks every so often.

======================

Then the two of them abruptly changed.

For the worse.

Spinner was making dinner when Dabi walked in, hastily stepping into the kitchen to avoid Toga and Twice who were set up in the small common area. Normally, Dabi put up with their exuberance fairly well, so he wasn’t sure what was setting him off today.

Spinner looked up and saw Dabi’s face.

Something had frazzled the man. Spinner would bet his console and all the games for it that it had something to do with the faintly shimmering, pale yellow marks on Dabi’s face. They curled around Dabi’s jaw like someone had tenderly cupped it. There wasn’t a resulting mark on his lips, so there wasn’t any kissing involved and the color…

Spinner had seen a lot of colors in his life, but none like this, at least, not so up-close.

He was used to smears of sandy yellow, but nothing this buttercup bright… and they never shimmered.

Something stupidly saccharine occurred.

“What are you looking at, Lizard?” Dabi hissed, bristling at Spinner. Spinner schooled his expression and pointed a large spoon at him.

“Better question is what are you doing in the kitchen on my night to cook?” He snapped back, putting a veneer of irritation across his face, “You’re looking paler than normal. Are you getting sick? Get your ass over here for your bowl of soup and fuck off. If you get sick, I’m taking a page out of Toga’s book and stabbing you.”

Dabi scowled, but accepted the bowl Spinner ladled soup into and slipped away to one of the back rooms. For a moment he was sure that Dabi was going to snarl something back at him, but it seemed he realized what Spinner was doing. It wasn’t like they were friends, so Spinner wasn’t going to ask what happened and knew he was the last person Dabi would go to for help. Besides, gods forbid they talk about things like adults. Not that he wanted to talk. He was out of fucks to give regarding the weird, sappy thing that was going on between Dabi and Hawks.

He was already an uncomfortable voyeur to all that shit.

Dabi didn’t grow any more comfortable with it over the next few weeks. He avoided Hawks like the man had all of the plagues, and the more Dabi avoided him, the more dejected Hawks looked. However, since it was Hawks, you had to pay particular attention to the masked moods the hero swapped out.

Or, if you were Spinner, you watched who and what he touched.

Hawks left his usual marks with their varying colors, but each one had a blurred halo of green and coal-dust black.

======================

Hawks was free of marks for all of thirty seconds, which was approximately the amount of time he remained on his feet and breathing out as much of an explanation as he could.

The next thirty minutes were a blur, and so were the marks that covered the hero. Former hero. Hero-adjacent? Spinner wasn’t entirely sure - he only caught about half of the explanation, too busy trying to sort out if the hero was covered in blood or if this was a new color-combination he hadn’t seen with his quirk yet.

It was blood.

The marks that followed were a bright rainbow of feelings, ranging from surprised worry to fierce anger, tentative happiness, and dawning horror. Pretty much all the emotions one could feel when confronted with both world-changing news as well as the crashing realization that you might be watching someone you cared about bleed out. Frankly, he was glad Hawks had been wheeled back as soon as they arrived. That many blindingly bright colors were starting to hurt his eyes.

“He’ll be okay…” Toga whispered. Her voice tugged him out of his thoughts and drew his gaze away from the door of the room the doctor disappeared into. Toga squeezed his hand again before lacing their fingers together and leaving behind smears of blue and purple. Spinner sighed, squeezing her hand back and leaning against her. She pressed back, a surprisingly sturdy, comforting presence.

“Toga… You saw what the Commission did to him. We don’t know if what he said was true or-” Spinner started saying before Toga interrupted him by pulling up a news site on her phone. One of the videos playing was muted, but there was closed captioning. They watched in silence for several minutes before Spinner pushed the phone away with his free hand. “That’s not helping. There still might be retaliation, and none of us have read the leaked files yet so it might just-”

“It’ll be fine. He was helping the UA kids. I trust them.” Toga replied, nudging him again.

“Toga’s right - Hawks will be fine. We will need to have a discussion with him, though.” Shigaraki chimed in, tapping away on his phone. Dabi was wedged between Shigaraki and Twice, mostly because if they weren’t on either side of him, he’d probably slide to the floor. As it was, he was lolling in and out of consciousness. Streaks of blue and purple, and some pink from Jin, were all over Dabi’s coat from where Twice and Shigaraki manhandled him after the doctor fucked him up.

He wondered how long the sedative was going to last. She jabbed him with a pretty big needle before he managed to step away from her. He didn’t get far, stumbling and then crashing to the ground. Spinner hadn’t been brave enough to laugh then, but after this was finished, he was going to find a corner and laugh himself silly over it.

That was if Dabi didn’t kill them after it wore off.

“That’s right!” Toga chirped, “Happy thoughts!”

======================

It was late enough that the midnight blacks of evening had turned into the blush-pink of early morning. They’d sat in the waiting area until Mister Compress had returned. He had some items in a bag that he handed off to the doctor’s assistant; payment for the emergency care she was providing. It wasn’t full payment, but they could ‘work out the rest later,’ she had assured them.

The doctor wasn’t one familiar to the league, and it didn’t seem like she had fond opinions of the creepy Ujiko guy that Shigaraki knew. She was the opposite of that man in pretty much every way that counted.

Ujiko always gave Spinner the vibe that he would happily cut all of them up to see how their quirk ticked, except for Spinner. He would probably chuck Spinner into a vat for parts if he could. Luckily, Shigaraki liked Spinner and he was competent enough during missions so Ujiko didn’t have an excuse to do so.

Where Ujiko was a short, bespectacled, ominously slimy feeling man, the doctor Dabi had brought them to was large, broad-shouldered, and was a mutant with a lion-head and small wings on her back.

She was courteous with all of them, but there was something odd between her and Dabi. They knew each other. Judging by the low, whispered argument they had, they had known each other for a while, and judging by the colors she left when she clapped a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from going into the back room, they had known each other for years.

It wasn’t the first time someone had touched Dabi and left exasperated red behind. Usually, it was Mister Compress.

There wasn’t any other way the marks could be that bright a silver. There were other colors involved, some streaks of blue and a smudge of obnoxious pink, and bright incandescent red of anger.

Or exasperation.

Dabi was careful not to touch her back and shrugged her hand off his shoulder almost immediately, again trying to follow the assistant into the back room. That was when the doctor stabbed him with the needle, letting Shigaraki and Twice manhandle him into a nearby seat.

He’d seen silver on Dabi before, of course. On Toga, too. That wasn’t really strange. Giran left bits of tarnished silver whenever he brushed by them.

Tarnished silver was professional detachment, but the silver the doctor left was so bright it looked like mercury. A long partnership, perhaps? He gleaned that Dabi had come by his scars years ago, so maybe this was where he went for aid. Spinner couldn’t fathom Dabi going to an urgent care center.

Then again, Spinner couldn’t fathom Dabi having a functional relationship with any doctor, back-alley or no. There wasn’t a lot he could fathom, like how… young Dabi looked when asleep. He looked years older when awake, but now, even with the sedation slowly wearing off, he looked closer to Spinner’s age than Compress’s. It would have to go on the list of things to ask Dabi later, along with establishing whatever is going on between him and Hawks, the fact that some of the released reports indicated his heredity, and if he had actually heard Dabi call the doctor something like ‘doc nya nya’.

Dabi groaned and shifted as the sedative continued to wear off. Spinner brought up a hand to keep the man from toppling over.

"Morning, sleeping beauty,” Spinner teased, removing his hand and ignoring the colors his touch left behind. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a bus,” Dabi grumbled. He rubbed the back of his neck and finally looked up. A momentary flash of alarm shot across his face as he realized where they were. His head jerked to the side as he searched for, and then found Hawks.

Spinner kept an eye on Dabi as he stretched, just in case Dabi wasn’t completely over the sedative, and decided to eat dirt. Something in his back cracked loud enough that Dabi’s attention flitted back to him. The perils of not moving for hours on end and being a makeshift pillow. He’d heard worse after a night of gaming.

Dabi sighed, shoulders slumping with relief as he realized that Hawks was tucked into the medical bed not three feet away. Bright eyes lingered on the ominous IV bag that was filled with eerie-colored goop. It didn’t seem to alarm him though.

That was another thing he needed to ask about.

“Where are the others?” Dabi asked.

“They went to get food and sleep in a hotel. The doc got pissy and said only one of us could stay and I drew the short straw.” Spinner said. He actually offered to stay behind and babysit Dabi and eventually Hawks. The plan was to have someone level-headed, or more likely, awake and coherent, to be there when Hawks awoke. They hadn’t been sure how long Dabi would be sedated and they didn’t want a nervous hero reacting badly to an unfamiliar place with his… whatever Dabi was, unconscious next to him. The others thanked him, which was a delightful novelty, and then left.

“It’s been about twelve hours since the doc, you know. Got you.” Spinner explained, miming jamming a needle into his arm. Dabi didn’t look amused, but he did reach up and rub his shoulder where the doc got him.

Twelve hours since Dabi went down like a sack of rice. Six hours after that, the doc concluded the surgery and let them see Hawks. They were all relieved when they were let into the room. There wasn’t much to see; Hawks was out cold and would be for ‘as long as needed’. The doc had done a damn good job. Don’t get him wrong, Hawks still looked terrible - he still breathed with a rasp, but he looked a hell of a lot better than when he came in and his forehead was no longer wrinkled in pain. Hawks was bandaged all to hell and back and there were an alarming number of tubes inserted into various places along his body. Spinner was pretty sure most of the tubes were non-standard in the medical world, especially since more than one of them was pumping that weird goo into him.

“Where is the doctor?” Dabi asked. He slowly eased himself out of his seat and started for the nearby chair and stumbled against the corner of the bed. Spinner shot out a hand to steady him, letting go immediately as Dabi gave a full-body flinch. It was enough of a touch for Spinner to leave behind a faint smudge of blue and worried teal.

Dabi glanced at Spinner, eyes narrowed as he settled into the chair. The doc placed the chair next to the bed with a knowing smirk soon as Spinner had gotten them settled on the bench.

‘For when he woke’, she said and that was pretty much all she would answer. He lobbed a few questions at her in the hopes that at least someone was chatty in this clinic. Most of them were deflected, and the few she did answer left more questions and didn’t really answer the original one.

It seemed even if you could find someone from his past, there was no guarantee you’d end up with more information than when you started. If anything, you were left with even less of an understanding.

“Sorry dude. Doc went to bed. Her assistant is at the front desk. I can go get-”

“Fuck no.” Dabi replied, face scrunching into something that resembled annoyance. “Kaneyoshi is an annoying fuck. Keep him out of here.”

Well all right then.

“You feeling nauseated at all? Thirsty? The doc told me to ask-”

“Why are you still here?”

Spinner shrugged and, limbs no longer protesting, retook his seat on the bench. He kicked his feet up where Dabi had been sitting and tugged his scarf loose. “Keeping an eye on you two. Shigaraki and the Doc are scary people.”

Dabi snorted.

“Plus, the others didn’t say where they were going. Since I’m not renting a room by myself, I’m going to pass the fuck out here. Wake me if you need anything.” Spinner said, laying down and exaggeratedly dropping his scarf over his eyes. Dabi didn’t say anything, and for a long while, it seemed the man was just going to sit there, looking uncomfortable until Hawks woke up.

Then the chair squeaked and there was a wet, half-sobbed huff of breath. Spinner waited a few seconds before lifting part of his scarf off his face, peeking out from under it. He saw the scarred man take Hawks’ hand, clasping it between both of his own with his forehead pressed to them.

He was the picture of a worried lover, and Spinner was actually happy for him. They all joined the league for something and while most of them were slowly accruing family, maybe a few would leave with love as well.

Maybe Hawks would know some single ladies he could romance?

He laughed to himself softly and settled in for an uncomfortable but much-needed nap.

======================

“I’m fine!” Hawks hissed, smacking Dabi’s hand away as he hobbled from the kitchen to the couch. Dabi threw up his hands in frustration, starting to smoke from his seams.

“If you don’t stay still, I’m letting Dr. Gaou deep fry you.”

Spinner pulled the table out of the way for Hawks, steadying the man with a hand on his leg as he eased himself down onto the couch.

“She won’t deep fry me. She thinks I’m charming,” Hawks said, poking a hole in the potion-like and probably not legal medical drink pouch from the clinic. He took a sip and immediately after, his face seemed to curl in on itself. “Oh gods, I take it back. She hates me. This is foul.”

Spinner zoned out, not quite listening to the bickering as he took in the new colors all over the league. Some were familiar, like the blues and purples on everyone. Some were new, like the streaks of bright, shimmering gold that Dabi left with every touch overlaid with a soft reddish patina. Granted, most of the touches left on Hawks had that irritated-red left on him. Everyone, but especially Dabi, were more than a little upset with the bird over the stunt he pulled without letting anyone know.

All Spinner knew was if Shigaraki ran into the Deku kid anytime soon, there was going to be an unholy shouting match about ‘bad plans’. Not that Shigaraki had much room to talk.

“Will you two quit flirting and pick a fucking movie? Otherwise, we’re watching the news updates.” Shigaraki growled from his blanket pile on the other end of the couch. Toga made a noise of displeasure that was a little like a tea kettle.

“Mister’s seen this one, right?” Hawks asked.

“No! You’ll be grumpy all night! I’ll pick a movie!” Toga whined, looking for the remote. Luckily, Hawks snagged it with a feather and was making an executive decision for everyone.

Thank gods.

He wasn’t in the mood for Toga’s usual fare, which alternated between B level Sci-fi films from twenty years ago or horror slasher films and psychological thrillers. The only time he liked either was in video games, thank you.

“Yeah. He won’t be upset if he misses it. He hasn’t seen the sequel, though so we have to wait before we play it.” Spinner replied, getting to his feet. “I’m getting snacks from the kitchen. Any requests?”

Compress was out doing gods knows what and Spinner had a suspicion it was something to do with whatever he did before joining the league. He and Twice had a bet. Twice thought he was part of the yakuza. Spinner was pretty convinced he was an assassin, because apparently circus performer wasn’t a valid profession anymore.

At the kitchen archway, Spinner paused, looking at the group bundled together in front of the television. They were a pleasant palette of blues and purples, with smudges of pinks from Twice and Compress. Dabi and Hawks were covered in gold, and somehow, Shigaraki had a smudge of yellow in his hair from gods knows where.

Spinner looked down at his own hands and arms, smiling as he saw a similar mess of color all over them.

#Authors notes are in a03 #bnha #bnha fic #dabihawks #Spinner has the braincell #my fic

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years ago

Text

Sea Salt: Two

Summary: As a noblewoman from a small (and nefarious) kingdom in the Stepstones and quiet Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Elia Martell, she is accustomed to being looked through rather than looked at. The only exceptions to this rule are Prince Oberyn and Lord Willas Tyrell but they are often far from the dark shadows of the Red Keep or Dragonstone. She finds comfort in her quiet friendship with the princess and the delight of the darling royal children. But as Prince Rhaegar places a wreath of blue roses in the lap of Lady Lyanna Stark and rebellion starts to rage, she knows she will have to live up to her reputation. But luckily, she seems to have two allies lurking in the shadows.

Pairing(s): Willas Tyrell/F!Reader/Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand

Word Count: 24.6k (T_T)

Rating for this chapter: NC-17 for a bit of violence and mention of blood and warfare, my over-use of italics and using time jumps, and my love for ASOIAF lore. Ellaria is the only one in this relationship with a functioning braincell and reader is always happy to learn new things (ie: they have sex. they like it) If you have any questions about the lore or who is who or need clarifications, please just ask! I’m playing fast and loose with a bit of it, and a few ages, too. But I’m always happy to answer any questions you have! Thank you to everyone who was so kind about the first chapter and gave me ideas for this one. I love you.

(Banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites)

Chapter Two: Salt of the Sweat

Read Chapter One Here!

Or read this chapter on Ao3!

The quill was running dry as she finished the missive. A knock came at the door and her uncle Hammond walked in. “Are you ready?”

Y/N nodded and sealed the letter, knowing the ink would smear in her haste. She handed it off to a handmaiden to be sent as soon as they were aboard the small, unmarked ship, before bending down and gathering both Aegon and Jon into her arms with a now-practiced ease. The two babies each pushed out a hand to wrap their little fingers around the silver hanging beneath her collar, enjoying the warmth the delicate metal exuded. The sun charm glinted in the growing moonlight.

Hammond nodded, a bit sad, and kissed her forehead as he stepped to her side. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Prince Oberyn- The babes are growing strong. We depart Skilliga tonight. Thank you for the gold and for the necklace. I have sent Arthur and Dawn home with Ashara. Please be gentle with her, she is my last true friend aside from you and Willas. I do not know when I shall be able to write to you again, but I will try.

Ashara had arrived on the sharp rock shores of Skilliga only a few weeks after Arthur had come, holding a bag of gold from House Martell and a small box with a delicate silver necklace tucked inside—a long chain of braided silver and two charms hung at the bottom; a shark and a sun. It was beautiful, truly. Far more beautiful than anything Y/N had ever owned. Skilliga, for all its charms, did not favor pretty things. “Elia had the finest smith in Sunspear craft it for you—it was supposed to be your nameday present.” Her smile was sad. “She swore me to secrecy, you know. Wanted it to be a surprise.”

And the babies were fond of it, too. Their little hands always searched for it when she held them and she would dangle it above their cribs when they would fuss at night, letting the moonlight catch the polished silver. They seemed to like it.

My Prince- Rhaenys has taken to reading to the boys at night—I think she has memorized the story you sent. It hardly leaves her side. It was the book your mother read to you and Elia when you were younger, was it not? Filled with sparkling waters and talking turtles. She grows stronger and brighter every day. I know you would be proud of her. I know Elia would be, too. I miss her more than words can say. I try to tell Aegon and Elia all I know of her, and I tell Jon what I can of Lyanna, but I feel I am a poor replacement for their true mothers. I know you and Prince Doran are biding your time and I have taken your advice to not stay in one place for too long. But I do hope I am able to see you again soon.

She spent her lonely nights reading about the history she was not taught in Skilliga—of the flight of the Targaryens to Dragonstone before the Doom, of Garin the Great of the Rhoynar, of magic she did not know could be real. All of it. The world seemed so much smaller and larger now, somehow at the same time.

Her book snapped shut at the sound of one of the boys starting to cry in their bassinet. She rose from her cushioned chair and stepped toward their room, ready to help soothe him but was unsurprised when she saw Rhaenys leaning over Aegon’s crib, humming a little tune as she rubbed at her brother’s tummy, a move Elia was fond of when her children were fussy—Rhaenys must have seen Elia do it before…well, before. Aegon’s cries quickly quieted and Y/N smiled at Rhaenys who looked a little bashful as she turned and spotted her in the doorway.

“Would you like some honeyfingers, sunshine?”

Lord Willas- Lys was strange. But it kept Aegon safe—his silver hair did not look out of place here. But Rhaenys did. A man at the market spotted her—tried to steal her from my arms and screamed of how the Usurper would grant him gold and titles if he brought her back to Westeros. I lost my favorite dagger in his neck. We set sail in just a few moments.

Pentos had been next. And a handful of years passed in the shadows of a Pentoshi tower. The children still kept close to her, hiding behind her legs in the market when someone walked too close or looked too long. But they were growing each day.

Balerion, who was now very large and very mean to anyone he did not like, was the one constant in their lives, it seemed. He had grown even meaner since they had started to travel through Essos, purring contentedly only if in the laps of Rhaenys or her brothers—he would only grace Y/N with his presence when Rhaenys was busy with her studies and he knew not to disturb her and Jon and Aegon were involved with the tutors she managed to hire. He would curl up in her lap and she would have to remain very still if she did not want his razor sharp nails to puncture her breeches (again) in retaliation for being woken from his nap before he was fully rested.

But his fur was very soft and he made the little ones smile—she could take a few moments to breathe, nowhere to go, no one to meet, if it kept the cat happy. But today he was batting at the slip of parchment she was trying to read. It was from a Pentoshi Magistrate named Illyrio or something—Balerion had shredded the bottom—who was hoping to meet with her (and the children he had heard rumors of for ‘quite some time’) and promised more riches and more ‘protection.’ He had ulterior motives, she was sure, but she needed all the help she could find.

Balerion gave up on the shredded parchment and leapt from Y/N’s lap before stretching for a moment beside her feet. His big, fluffy head turned this way and that, as if looking for something. And then, as if on cue, Rhaenys darted out of the manse’s solar and scooped the cat up into her arms and placed a kiss on the top of his head. It earned her a rumbling purr in return.

“How would you feel about meeting someone for supper tonight, sunshine?”

My Prince- Congratulations on your newest daughter! An even eight—you must be so proud. The way you write of Ellaria is fit for songs. I know your daughters will flourish with your guiding hand. I will tell Rhaenys and Aegon of their new cousin, they are always happy to hear of their family. They miss you. I miss you.

The dinner had been just as dull and filled with lies and platitudes as any other meal they had shared with noblemen and dignitaries over the last handful of years in Essos. Illyrio was very self-assured and tried to tell Y/N that he wanted to see a Targaryen on the throne of Westeros again. “It is better for business, you see. This whole Rebellion has greatly affected my profits.”

“And that is all you care for? Profits?”

Illyrio’s smile was slimy but Y/N curled her fingers into the loose silk of her skirts to avoid reaching for the knife balanced on the edge of her plate. It would not do for her to threaten a(nother) host. “I would not be opposed to being raised to the Master of Coin when the rightful heir takes his place on the throne. It was nasty business what happened to that Dornish Princess.”

“Her name was Elia,” Y/N ground out.

“But I do suppose she served her purpose, bringing these beautiful children into the world.”

Y/N let go of her skirts and reached up to touch the knife. If he said another word, it was going into his eye and she would just steal everything she could hold. Perhaps that was a better plan than listening to him talk anyway. She glanced to her left to see Rhaenys looking down at her lap, little hands folded over her skirt. Hearing anything about her mother usually made her grow quiet and sad. Y/N, not even thinking of what it meant, moved her hand from the knife to cover Rhaenys’ hands. Providing comfort instead of violence.

(Mayhaps that could still come later.)

Rhaenys looked up at her and gave her a small smile, followed quickly by three squeezes to her fingers, a silent signal they had developed over the years to let the other know they were well.

“I swear it, your grace,” Illyrio said, staring at Aegon, another slimy smile on his face. “I will see you on your throne. You shall be king.”

“He is a child,” Y/N bit out. “Do not push him for something he cannot be sure he wants.” Aegon was barely speaking in full sentences that made sense, how could he know if he wanted some stupid crown? Just last night, Rhaenys had pulled her featherbed into her brothers’ rooms to sleep near them because they would not calm down until she was near them. He was a child. Born to royalty, yes, but a child still.

Illyrio laughed, a grating sound that had Rhaenys tightening her grip on her hand. “Of course, but you must teach him his responsibility. In secret, I know the highborn of Westeros are toasting to your survival, stitching dragons into their tapestries, and will come to your aid when you call for banners.”

That would have been a nice thought if anyone knew he was alive. Oberyn and Doran both had told her that most spoke of how they ‘knew’ Rhaenys and Aegon had been killed when the Lannisters sacked King’s Landing—and some others ‘knew’ that Lady Lyanna and her unborn babe had both died at the Tower of Joy before the end of the Rebellion. “I’ve been more preoccupied with keeping him breathing.”

“I don’t wan’ be king.”

Everyone turned to look at Aegon who seemed near tears.

“What, little one?” Y/N asked as she pulled him into her lap. His hand instantly grabbed at the necklace and he pressed his face into her shoulder.

“No king.” He sniffled and shook his head. “Rhaenee is king.”

The magistrate guffawed and Y/N once again looked at the knife. She could do it. “You will be king.” His smile did not falter. “But I do have gifts for you all.” Illyrio, unaware of how close he had come to death, waved a hand and a servant quickly came and placed a large chest on the table, rattling the cutlery and plates.

Jon startled in his little raised chair at her side but Rhaenys was immediately intrigued, even as she reached out to calm Jon with a gentle hand to his back. The lid opened and…

It was a…rock. A pretty rock, but a rock. It was a smoke color with ripples of orange and yellow. Illyrio waved a hand again, indicating she was allowed to grasp it, and she did as Aegon continued to press against her chest. It was heavier than she thought it would be and a little cold to the touch. Her eyes drifted to the small stack of gold also in the chest.

“What am I to do with this rock?” Y/N held the thing aloft with an arched eyebrow, holding back the sneer she felt growing. “Should I crack it open? Will it give me the ability to breathe life into my dearest friend’s lungs again? Will I be able to kill the usurper on the Iron Throne from across the Narrow Sea?”

“It is a dragon egg, my lady,” Illyrio said, enunciating each syllable as if that would help her understand. “Extremely valuable.”

Y/N turned and handed Rhaenys the egg, watching her little fingers curl around it immediately. She reached out and scooped out the gold and stood. The three children quickly did the same, little Aegon still in her arms and Rhaenys grabbing Jon from his chair. “I thank you for your time and meal, Magistrate. I shall think on your offer.”

Illyrio hurried to stand as well. “Yes, as their regent, I do value your opinion-”

But they were already turned away and walking out the door.

Lord Willas- I wish I could show you the gardens of Volantis. I am sure they pale in comparison to Highgarden, but they are lovely even if the people and customs are intolerable. The dried petals you hid in the folds of your last missive were a welcome surprise—a merchant woman insisted I have them turned into a perfume and it is a delightful scent. I can almost imagine the green grass and pink roses you have told me about so many times. I hope I will be able to see them soon. The air here is so heavy, it gets hard to breathe. Aegon and Jon do enjoy the elephants that the noblemen insist we ride everywhere. My sunshine likes to steer the large animal when the streets are clear, too. But please, tell me more of your home. Has your father filled the aviary with more hawks? Are the pups growing strong?

Y/N pulled the sword out of the back of the last man, listening to him gurgle on his own blood before he dropped to the worn wooden planks of the dock. Two more bodies were half submerged in the water a few paces back.

Volantis had turned on them, too. But the gold she had taken from the bodies of the would-be kidnappers (or assassins, she had not stopped to ask) would give them a little more cushion when they arrived in Lorath.

“Y/N?” Rhaenys called out from her hiding spot on the small ship docked just behind her. Her head appeared over the railing of the boat as Y/N wiped the blood off her sword onto her breeches before placing it back in its scabbard. “Did you get the pomegranates?”

Y/N turned and shuffled back a few steps to pick up the large bag she had dropped in the scuffle and held it up with a smile, ignoring how she could feel blood drying on her face. “I did, sunshine!”

Little Shark- Ellaria has been insistent that I introduce you as soon as we are able. I believe you would make dangerous friends. Lorath may not be the most exciting of places to hide, but I know you and the little ones will be safe. My family owes you a great debt. Doran has had to stop me from loading up my family and sailing to wherever you have landed. I have dreamt of you, little shark. I remember how you would smile and laugh. I remember how the scent of the sea seemed to be pressed into your skin. All of this has haunted me. You have haunted me.

Rhaenys was fond of just holding the silly little dragon egg and seemed to find a strange comfort by simply being near it, even as the years continued to trickle by and the stone egg was unchanged. “It feels warm, does it not?” She asked, holding out the egg toward Y/N.

But it did not feel warm to Y/N as she brushed her fingers against the strange orange ripples. It felt like cold rock. “Maybe I do not have the magic touch,” she said with a wink.

“Rhaenys!” They both turned at the shout of her name. Aegon and Jon, now seven and eight, rushed toward them. Little wooden swords clutched in their hands and their trousers covered in dirt. She had left them, only momentarily, to whack at each other in their garden.

Rhaenys was nearly bowled over by her brothers as they leapt at her and she tried to catch them, always protective. “What troubles you?” She asked as she managed to right them, batting away their swords as they absentmindedly still held them pointed up, ready to spar, while still holding onto her precious dragon egg.

“There is a strange man at the door.”

Ice went down Y/N’s spine and she hurried to push the children toward the back of the room, hiding them away in the back of the wardrobe. She handed Rhaenys a blade of her own, barely larger than the girl’s hand. “Remember what I taught you, sunshine?”

“Eyes, throat, thigh,” Rhaenys said, voice shaking just the slightest bit.

“Yes. And do not come out until I come for you.” She kissed each of them on the forehead and shut the door quietly, hoping against hope that it would not be the last time she would see them. But she steeled herself and patted at her breeches, feeling the four hidden blades there, and then the other four hidden in her tunic. She would fight. She would fight until her last breath.

Slowly but with her head held high, Y/N made her way toward the door and braced for the worst—a haggard Westerosi knight in search of gold and glory. A Braavosi bravo who wanted adventure across the Narrow Sea. A Sorrowful Man. A Faceless Man.

She peeked outside the window nearest the door and frowned. The man standing outside looked familiar and the longer she stared at him, the more she realized she knew him. A knight who had stuck to the Mad King’s side every time she had been forced to go to the Red Keep.

A Targaryen loyalist.

Maybe.

Slowly, she opened the door and stared at him. Willem Darry looked haggard—near death. He smelt like it, too.

“I have been searching for you,” he said, voice rough on her ears.

“What do you want, Darry?”

“I know that you have the little dragons.”

“You are mistaken.” Her hand started to inch toward the knife she had at her back. She could kill him. It could be quick and most people would not bat an eye at a bit of spilled blood. She needed to keep the children safe.

“I’m not. Queen Rhaella told me of a missive Elia wrote to her brother before the Sack of King’s Landing.”

Her hand curled around the hilt. “I know of no such letter.”

“I do not care of what you do or do not know. I am here because I need you. They need you.” He turned and called out for something—she did not care to listen. But the gate at the edge of her property opened and she felt her heart clench. Behind him stood little Viserys Targaryen and his sister, Daenerys.

Her grasp loosened. “Oh.”

My lady Y/N, Braavos sounds wondrous. I must admit that learning you have found two more dragons was a welcome surprise. It seems you collect them now. Prince Oberyn has been adamant that I visit the palace of Sunspear but I am afraid I will only embarrass myself further. The Usurper has started having a brood of his own. He grows more complacent by the day. Mayhaps I will be able to come to you someday soon. Your letters have become a most cherished treasure to me—even if my little sister Margaery does try to read them over my shoulder at every opportunity. I wish I could tell her about you, about how brave and beautiful you are. But I have promised Prince Oberyn to keep you a secret. And my secret you shall be.

Ser Willem Darry quickly moved Y/N and the children into his house. It was larger, equipped with better possible hiding places, and seemed to blend into the background of their particular road, hard to pick it out from its neighbors, aside from the red door. Darry made the servants aware that these four new faces were to be obeyed just as he was. He was a bear of a man, but gentle.

Rhaenys and Daenerys were thick as thieves, the older of the two quickly schooling the young girl in all things a good, highborn lady should know, and several more things a lady should not. More often than not, Y/N would find them practicing with bits of sharpened wood, stabbing the air with clumsy grips which Willem tried to rectify to the girls’ delights. Viserys had caught them once or twice and had snapped the bits of wood in two and dragged Daenerys away by the end of her silver braid until Y/N stepped in and made him practice his calligraphy until the sun set as punishment for making the girls cry. He was a terrible child, always holding his nose too high in the air and telling Aegon and Jon that he was king because his mother had crowned him at Dragonstone before she died.

“She only did that because she thought Aegon was dead or would be soon,” Rhaenys said, fire in her eyes.

“I don’t want to be king anyway!” Aegon would always shout from the next room over.

It was best to keep them separated.

My Prince- I am tired. And I must apologize for the tone of this letter. But Ser Willem is not long for this world, his stomach grows more troublesome for him by the day, and Viserys has been burning letters he will snatch from my hands, not allowing me to know their contents. Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon are still flourishing in Braavos, however. They have asked that I send you this small wooden snake—and you know I am unable to tell them no when they ask so sweetly. Rhaenys has insisted that she read the books you have sent to her brothers and little Daenerys. I had to keep Viserys from stealing the book from her hands more than once. He is a terrible young man. If Aegon were not so attached to him, I might not be so protective of him. But I would not do anything which would bring a frown to Aegon’s face. He has also taken to dyeing his hair blue, to better blend with the Braavosi crowd, letting any passersby think he is just a Tyroshi boy. He is so smart, my prince. He and Rhaenys—and Jon, too, when he is not sulking—are growing to be true heirs to their throne. I hope you will be able to see them soon, just as I hope to meet your daughters and Ellaria. Lord Willas has told me that you are quite the doting father. I miss you.

Aegon and Jon grew stronger and more adventurous with each passing moon while Viserys did try to seem like his nephews’ company and would tell them stories of court life in Westeros, of how Rhaegar was a valiant knight, and how King Aerys was loved by the people.

Y/N had been quick to tell them the truth as she tucked them into bed each night but that did not stop the boys from wanting the older boy’s attention when Ser Willem was deemed ‘un-fun’ when he tired so quickly.

That sentiment quickly soured in their little mouths when Y/N had to explain that Willem had joined their mothers in the Seven Heavens and would not be…around anymore.

“Just say it, he’s dead,” Viserys commanded with an upturned lip.

“You might be crass, Viserys, but that does not mean I need be, too.”

“Why not? Your pathetic little kingdom would not stand under the might of the Seven Kingdoms. That is why you’ve run-”

“Will you braid my hair?” Daenerys’ soft voice cut the tension and Y/N happily turned to look at the youngest dragon.

“Of course, Dany. Go grab your brush.”

“I have a ribbon you can use,” Rhaenys said with a small smile. She reached out a hand toward the younger girl who happily took it.

As Daenerys scurried away, Viserys shot Y/N another glare before marching off. Jon had been watching the entire exchange with his usual pout and Aegon was looking between Y/N and the door where Viserys had disappeared as he fiddled with the pommel of his practice sword.

“I do not understand his dislike of you,” Aegon said.

“He doesn’t like that he is second best,” Jon said. “Or third.”

Y/N snorted and shook her head. “Have you two finished your Valyrian lines?”

Aegon and Jon looked at each other and then darted from the room without a look back, as Y/N knew they would. Daenerys came back in with a smile, her brush, and the bit of ribbon Rhaenys had leant her in her hands. Y/N sat behind Daenerys and carefully brushed her hair. Daenerys seemed to preen under the touch, much like Rhaenys did when she was her age, happy to feel friendly fingers taking care with her hair. She plaited it and tied it off with the purple ribbon, knowing it would probably be a mess by the time dinner was served.

“You will not leave us. Not like Ser Willem, right?” The little princess asked as she turned to look up at her.

Y/N pressed a smile to her face and bit back the words she felt bubbling at the back of her throat. How could she tell a heartbroken little girl that she could not decide when she left this world? She traced a finger down Daenerys’ cheek before gently cupping her chin in her hand. “I promise I will be at your side for as long as I am able, princess.”

Daenerys paused, violet eyes searching her face for answers before nodding. “What are we having for supper?”

My Prince- Thank you for the wonderful gifts for Rhaenys’ ten-and-four nameday. I cannot believe she is almost a woman grown. I cannot believe it has been so long since I have seen you, so long since my flight from Dragonstone. How fares little Dorea? Has she recovered from her sickness? And what of Sarella? Is she still masquerading in the Citadel? She truly is your daughter. Please give Ellaria my love and I will give Aegon, Jon, and Rhaenys yours.

It had been quite a few years since she had heard Rhaenys wake herself up in a fit. Y/N quietly padded over to her room and let herself in, seeing the princess sit in a mess of blankets, a hand on her chest, obviously trying to slow her racing heart. Y/N stepped inside as Rhaenys spotted her sat on the edge of the bed and smiled as Rhaenys quickly swirled around on the blankets to place her head on Y/N’s lap. Her fingers reached up and tangled with her necklace, thumb brushing against the sun pendant as she had done hundreds of times before.

“What troubles you, sunshine? Let me help you.” She curled her hands over Rhaenys’ shoulders and side, cradling her just a bit—like she did when she was a small child. “The nightmares have come back.” She did not look up at her, only keeping her focus on the metal sun.

“Tell me what you see.”

Rhaenys sighed. “You’ll think me foolish.”

“Never.”

“There are ice dragons—bigger than castles, bigger than mountains. They come from the cold and have riders made of snow on their backs and swords made of ice, too.” She shivered and her hand dropped from Y/N’s necklace and she curled further into Y/N’s grasp. “The dead walk with them.”

“The dead?” Y/N asked, her face scrunching in confusion.

“They follow them, mindlessly. Like they have no control.”

Y/N pulled Rhaenys a little closer, feeling something cold trace its finger down her spine. “You’ve been dreaming of the cold since you were a child.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before finally looking up at her. “I don’t think they’re dreams.”

And that gave Y/N pause. She had read about Daenys the Dreamer who saved her family from the Doom. She had read how the priests and priestesses of the Mother Rhoyne were gifted with visions of things not yet come to pass. “You have been seeing this since you were a babe, sunshine. Tell me. Tell me what you think it is.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before sighing. “I’ve read the book of legends Uncle Oberyn has sent. Of the Rhoynar, of my mother’s people. It said that some were gifted with something called the Sight. The ability to see things as they happen from across the world, or things not yet come to pass.”

“Like the Dragon Dreams of the Valyrians.”

Rhaenys nodded and finally dropped her hold on the necklace.

“And you think that this cold, these beings, are coming?”

“I know it sounds like nonsense-”

“Almost every country in this world has legends of a night which lasted generations, of cold which reached across the seas. And history repeats itself, my sunshine. It is possible that you have always had the Sight. Do not discount yourself.”

Rhaenys looked up at her, dark eyes shining in the moonlight. “Then I am seeing what is to come?”

Y/N pulled her a little closer. “It is possible. But magic has been gone from the world a long time.”

“But if the cold can come again, magic can as well.”

Y/N nodded. “And I shall be here with you if it does.”

“My father,” Rhaenys grumbled the title, “was fond of prophecy, was he not? The Targaryens always said ‘the Dragon has three heads’ or something like that.”

“Why can there not be four?” She sighed. “Or five. Would not more be better? Surely there is still strength in numbers. And we shall need all the strength we can muster.”

Rhaenys opened her mouth to say something when the door burst open. On instinct, Y/N grabbed the knife she’d hidden in her sleeve and hurled it at the intruder. It missed Jon’s head by pure luck. He only glanced at the blade once before turning back to them. “Something’s happened.”

Y/N stood from the bed with Rhaenys at her side and they ran through the manse, following Jon’s steps but their haste did not change the outcome. Viserys and Daenerys were gone.

Lady Y/N- Thank you for the information you have discovered about from the Iron Bank. It is most welcome and has helped us continue to truly know how poorly and precariously the Usurper is sitting on his stolen throne. If you discover anything else, I would be grateful. Please give the young ones my love. -Prince Doran, Lord of Sunspear

“Again,” Y/N said, standing on the edge of the stone platform.

Aegon and Jon both groaned but Rhaenys held up her sword, ready for the next drill to be called out.

They had been training since the sun came up. While the breeze off the water kept them cool, sweat still poured down their necks to wet their tunics. It was a familiar sight—Y/N could remember her own time in Skilliga’s training rooms when she was younger than them.

It felt like ages ago.

She called out the next set of drills and watched as they worked through the steps, each with a bit of room for improvement, but not entirely terrible. As they worked through another set, and then another, Y/N reached for her own wooden sword and leapt up onto the platform as they caught their breath. Perhaps it was time for only one more exercise.

“If you each manage to land a blow, we can call it for the day, hm? I’ll even have honeywine brought in.”

The siblings looked at each other, a silent conversation, before they all turned like a three-headed beast and raised their swords and charged.

When it was all finished—Y/N had only two more sore spots on her arms but she still had honeywine and let them drink the entire bottle themselves. They had earned it. The manse grew quiet after their small celebration and Y/N sat in her room and listened to the sea beat against the city’s walls as she ran a cool, damp cloth across her face, trying to wash the day’s dirt and sweat away. It was strange, to know that she did not need to make sure that the three did not require a story to help them sleep. They hadn’t in several years. But she still found herself wanting to rise from her cushioned seat to check on them as the air grew still and soft.

A knock at her opened door had her turning and Rhaenys was walking into her room with her lips pulled tight. “Dany is alive.”

“How do you know this?” Y/N asked, rising from her seat. For almost a year, she had heard nothing of the two lost dragons. She knew someone had seen them, she had always known when someone was keeping a secret. But they never told. Again and again, she had thought she would learn of their deaths from a sneering nobleman or one of her missives from Westeros. But she had heard nothing.

“I’ve seen it. I’ve dreamt it.”

My Y/N, Thank you for the lace and silk. You are a generous soul; I had been searching for the right materials for my Obella’s nameday dress and your package arrived the next day. Oberyn speaks of you often, of little Aegon and Rhaenys, and Jon too. I hope to meet you soon, to finally know your face as I know your name. To know you.

It was two years later that she finally heard of where the two silver-headed dragons had gone.

The Dothraki Sea.

“Why would they go there?” Rhaenys asked with a frown.

“Viserys probably hatched some plan. Brokered a deal he did not fully understand with a man smarter than him.”

“A horse is smarter than him,” Aegon muttered. Rhaenys slapped his arm but Jon roared with laughter.

“Well, we must go to them. To Daenerys, at least,” Rhaenys said as she stood from her seat.

And that was how Y/N found herself selling most of their earthly possessions and setting out away from Braavos with an honest guide whom she trusted and paid well. (Balerion hated the wheelhouse but preferred it to being sat on Rhaenys’ lap on her horse. He curled himself around the petrified dragon egg and mostly slept through the day.)

From Braavos to Norvos and then down the banks of the Noyne to where it met the Rhoyne, the days trickled by.

For only a few hours, she let the three bask in the beauty of the ruins of Ny Sar—of the city Nymeria, their famed ancestor, had once called home—before they continued on. They could not afford to linger.

But she grew more and more fatigued with each passing day.

“What ails you?” Rhaenys asked as they stopped for the night.

“I never sleep well this far from the sea, sunshine.” She pressed a smile to her face and tugged at the silver lock of hair at Rhaenys’ nape. “I will rest when we find Daenerys and I can hear the waves crash against the shore again.”

But she asked again a few nights later as they settled again to make their small camp, quiet and hidden. They were too far south for the Pirates of Dagger Lake and too far north for the Volantene galleys to spot them, but it was still best to be cautious. Even in Skilliga, Y/N knew of the dangers of the Sorrows. And Y/N gave her answer. “We are too close to the Sorrows for me to sleep soundly, sunshine.”

They both settled on the high hill at the edge of the grasslands where it met the sparse forest, and watched the cursed fog slowly roll over the unseen waters she could only barely hear. It was strangely quiet here, in this desolate part of the world.

“This is where the Rhoynar made their last stand—before Nymeria and her ten thousand ships set sail and landed in Dorne.”

“Yes. Centuries ago, Chroyane, this was a proud and fertile land. Filled with celebrations and water magic. A place of laughter and prosperity.”

Rhaenys sighed as she looked out at the curling grey mist and barren trees. “But not now.”

“Before the Doom, when the Valyrians still ruled Essos, they tried to conquer the Rhoynar. Wars raged and, for a handful of years, the Rhoynar were able to hold the dragons off. But that did not last. In a last attempt to make the dragons rue the day they set their purple eyes on this part of the Rhoyne, Garin the Great called down a curse on the Valyrians after being captured.”

“And the waters rose and the fog rolled in, sweeping them beneath and holding them there beneath the waves for all the ages to come. The fog turned their skin to stone, matching their stone hearts and took their minds, too.” Rhaenys nodded. “I remembered that part. Mother would tell me stories of the Rhoynar when father was too busy wish his prophecies to sing me to sleep.” The young girl at her side heaved a heavy sigh as she watched the mist curl across the water. “This is my mother’s bloodline. Snuffed out by my father’s.”

Y/N huffed and knocked her shoulder against Rhaenys’. “You are not your parents. You are not some bit of rock that maesters scribble about in their chambers. You, my sunshine, are both Martell and Targaryen. You are the Sun and a Dragon. The fact that you are here means that the impossible is possible. You are water magic and fire in skin. You are the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. You are your mother’s daughter—her sunshine, my sunshine.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she nodded and stood, sweeping her hands against her trousers to brush the dead grass from the fabric. Y/N expected her to say that she was retiring again for the night. But Rhaenys always kept Y/N on her toes.

She was suddenly sprinting down the hill toward the water and the cursed fog.

“Rhaenys?! What are you doing?”

Rhaenys would succumb to the curse, to greyscale—what was she doing?! Y/N sprinted down after her, pumping her legs faster and faster to try to catch her—but she was again too late. And she screamed as Aegon darted in after his sister.

But the fog did not engulf Rhaenys’ form. It did not choke the air from her young lungs. Instead, it curled around her ankles like Balerion had done so many times as a kitten. It was welcoming her. Welcoming her home.

For a moment, Y/N could only watch as the unnatural fog almost seemed to sparkle and shine as Rhaenys reached out her hands toward it. She knew Aegon was yelling, saying something to Rhaenys. But she couldn’t hear it. And she doubted Rhaenys could either as the fog closed around the pair.

She could only wait, with a panicked Jon at her side and a strangely calm Balerion in her arms.

“All will be well,” Y/N heard herself saying.

“Are you certain?” Jon asked in return.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

And when the sun rose in the morning, for the first time in hundreds of years, it shone on Chroyane. The fog lifted. She could see the broken yet still beautiful arches and marble columns of towering stone. Grand palaces jutting from the sparkling waters. Overgrown trees, once foreboding and covered in grey moss, had shining green leaves as large as her arm with delicate pink flowers blossoming. And it was beautiful—even with the bodies of the stone men piled, almost neatly, on the banks of the river. Finally at rest.

Y/N turned her head at the sound of splashing and saw one of the famed large turtles the Rhoyne was known for, sliding through the water, content.

In the center of the river, the water slowly moving by, stood Rhaenys and Aegon.

Jon sprinted to his siblings’ side. “What happened? What did you see?”

Rhaenys only smiled.

The siblings had insisted that they take a handful of days to explore the newly ‘recovered’ city. And Y/N could not tell them no—both out of familial duty and personal curiosity. While Aegon and Rhaenys traipsed through the ruins as if they had been there thousands of times before, showing Jon everything they could and telling him of the Rhoynish history, Y/N explored on her own.

The ancient scars of the last battle against the Valyrians were still seen, now dulled by the constant presence of the river water but she could see bits of armor beneath ivy and trees, sun-bleached bone where the water was shallow.

But the river was clear and cool and Y/N let it soak her breeches as she jumped from the small skiff she had found so she could look through the ruins of what appeared to be an ornate bathhouse. Mud and damp greenery sloshed underneath her boots as she walked through, trying to envision what this place looked like before the war and curse. But even now, it was beautiful.

Something clanged against her boot and she looked down to see an edge of a sword. Y/N frowned as she pulled the sword from the muck and wiped it clean on her already-disgusting trousers. The pommel had a head of lion and was inlaid with fine rubies and gold. The blade was long—too long to be wielded by one hand as she had trained to do—but it was far too light to be common steel. Y/N held up the blade to let it reflect the sun and saw the swirling patterns as her heart leapt into her throat.

This was Valyrian steel.

She spent the next handful of hours combing through the mounds of debris on the edges of the river, making sure to listen for where her three charges were and to know that they were safe, and collecting any bits of Valyrian steel—armor or weapons—she could find. And if she had to shake a few bones loose from it? That did not matter. This was not supposed to be the resting place of the dragonriders. This was not their land. So, she supposed that the Valyrians’ former belongings were free game.

They would catch a fine price anyway.

Balerion was perched on a moss-covered rock, watching another large turtle and probably mulling over if the creature was friend, foe, or food.

But Rhaenys eventually pulled her brothers from the ruins and said it was time to move on—“we will come back. I’m sure of it.” And no one argued with her on that, or asked how she knew. They all knew to simply trust her.

The wetlands of the Rhoyne gave way to the grass of the Dothraki Sea and their guide promised that he knew the fastest way to Vaes Dothrak, the one true Dothraki settlement where Daenerys had last been seen. And his promises were kept, thankfully. Y/N was sure if anything else had caught her off guard, she would have fallen off her horse and never risen again. She was so far from the sea. She could hear no river or ocean. No water.

The heat was nearly unbearable. She had nearly thrown herself from the saddle when the seventy-sixth bead of sweat trailed its way down her neck to pool in the back of her tunic. But Rhaenys remained ever positive.

“We are nearly there, I can feel it.”

Even when they learned that Daenerys and what was left of her husband’s khalasar had left Vaes Dothrak and started toward Lhazar, she still voiced her positive outlook.

And it paid off. As Y/N knew it would—eventually.

As the sun set on the fourth day after leaving Vaes Dothrak, they spotted the remnants of a khalasar surrounding what looked like a giant funeral pyre as a red comet bled across the dark night sky. Y/N slowed her horse to a stop and dismounted as she squinted toward the group, trying to find Daenerys. The silver hair quickly stood out and she felt her heart lift, unweighted for the first time since they had left the Chroyane. But it suddenly tumbled down to her stomach as she watched Daenerys light the fire and then edged closer to the heat.

“Daenerys? Dany!”

But the girl did not hear her. Did not turn. Did not blink as she stepped into the flames.

Y/N ran toward the fire but was held back by a strange man—Y/N barely registered that he was not Dothraki—who muttered something about not needing more death tonight.

Sudden movement at her side had Y/N turning and she could not stomach the cry that ripped its way from her throat.

“Rhaenys? What are you—Rhaenys!” She screamed and screamed and leapt toward her only to be too late—again—to stop the carnage. That was her curse.

Rhaenys stepped into the funeral pyre, the egg she had treasured for years held out in front of her like an offering.

Aegon and Jon were screaming for her, for Dany, to come out—come out of the flames and we can go home! We can go home!

But the pair of girls did not. They did not emerge from the flames. Around the large funeral pyre, the remnants of the Dothraki khalasar moved to their knees, watching at the fire burned higher and hotter. And all Y/N could do was watch.

She had failed. She had failed and she didn’t know why. Why did the girls walk into the fire, so sure of their fates? Why did they welcome it with open arms? Why? Y/N sank to her knees and wept. She cried for the first time since Arthur had died at her feet, wept even as the heat from the pyre drenched her in sweat. She had failed.

By the time the sun rose and smoke dissipated, she was certain she would be staring at the bodies of her two girls and once again facing immeasurable loss and now having to handle her boys’ own anger and sadness.

But then she felt her heart leap into her throat.

Surrounded by ash and soot, were Daenerys and Rhaenys. Unharmed. Unburnt. Alive.

And four baby dragons.

“Oh.”

The remaining onlookers yelled out something in their language, hands raised toward Rhaenys and Daenerys.

Blood of their blood.

Y/N, Aegon, and Jon stepped over the piles of ash and still burning embers and toward the two women, naked, and covered in soot—but smiling. Y/N pulled off her overtunic and wrapped it around Rhaenys’ shoulders as Aegon draped his cloak around Daenerys.

“I saw you come again.” Daenerys reached out and grasped at Rhaenys’ hands and the young women cried. “I saw you.”

“I saw you, too,” Rhaenys whispered before shaking her hands free of Daenerys’ grip only to wrap her arms around her aunt in a tight embrace. “How could he hurt you so? You did not deserve to be treated like that.”

Y/N watched Daenerys’ brows furrow over Rhaenys’ shoulder. “What did you see?”

But the answer would have to wait as Aegon and Jon, tired of waiting, all but threw themselves at the pair, and berated them for their actions but thanked them both for surviving.

“I don’t know what we would do without you,” Aegon murmured.

Y/N sighed as she watched them, watched the small group cry and laugh and smile. Aegon did not know how true that statement was—and she hoped he would never know what the world would be like without his sister and aunt.

Rhaenys stepped away from her brother from a moment and held out a soot-covered hand toward her, urging her forward. And Y/N quickly took it, not minding the strange heat. The yellow and gold dragon hatchling on Rhaenys’ shoulder chirped as Y/N stepped closer. Its little neck craned as she kissed Rhaenys’ forehead, trying to see what Y/N was doing to their mother.

“Never do that again, my sunshine.”

There had been a bit of an argument between Daenerys and her guard—Jorah Mormont, Y/N had learned what his name was—and Rhaenys and her brothers as to where they would go next. They could not stay in the Dothraki Sea. The other khalasars were still a threat.

Jorah suggested Asshai-by-the-shadow.

Their guide suggested traveling back to Norvos—and when that was turned down, he took his payment and left. “You will die out here,” was all he said. Charming.

But Daenerys, watching the red comet still bleed across the crystal-blue sky had a different destination in mind. “What is that way?” She asked, finger pointing toward where the comet was flying.

“Qarth, khaleesi. The Queen of cities.”

Daenerys smiled at the sound of it. “We shall go to Qarth.” She turned and looked at Rhaenys who nodded, both of them unperturbed by the dragons using their limbs like a crib. Aegon and Jon were both looking at the pair of young women with awe and almost-smug knowing on their faces. Like they had predicted this very sight. And mayhaps they did.

Magic had come back into the world. With water and fog and fire and dragons.

It had come back.

My dear Willas- I am not sure if Qarth is to my taste. I do not like how these merchants ‘princes’ and warlocks stare at my charges and their dragons. I do not like how they lathe attention and treasures on the children…young adults, I suppose. I know that these people, man, woman, whomever, they only mean to get their hands on the dragons. And Balerion truly poses more of a threat than the dragons do—and the cat is getting old, he is still something to behold, but his paws move slower now. The hatchlings are defenseless little things even if they are starting to learn how to breathe fire. But I suppose the comforts of this famed city are better than the alternative of getting lost in the Red Waste. But still…I could hear the whispers and feel the people of Qarth all around us. Even our host, Xaro Xhoan Daxos, who had been the first to welcome us into the walled city and has given us an entire wing to call home in his immense estate—I cannot trust him. There is a Shadowbinder here who seems to appear at all hours of the night and day, speaking in whispers and vague prophecy. Truthfully, if she spoke plainly I might actually like her. But enough of that! What news do you have from Westeros? The new set of hounds—are they still growing strong?

For now, in this strange city, they were comfortable. She could hear the four laugh and see them smile. Daenerys told them of her time at Viserys’ side, told them of how her brother had told her that Y/N and Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon no longer wanted the pair at their side. She told them of how they had become wards of Illyrio Mopatis who had promised to help them retake the Seven Kingdoms—a familiar promise. He had brokered a deal with Khal Drogo, all but selling Daenerys to the khal in exchange for the large khalasar who was supposed to help Viserys reclaim the Iron Throne. It churned her stomach, it hurt her heart. “You know that you are family,” Y/N had said. “You are always welcome, always loved.” And that gave rise to the question: did any of them actually want the Iron Throne?

And the answer, unsurprisingly, was complicated.

Aegon and Jon wanted to stop running. Daenerys wanted a place to call home, truly. And Rhaenys, her sunshine, revealed her steel core. Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she stood and set her shoulders back. “Westeros will be mine. It will be mine as it should have been my father’s. As it should have belonged to my mother. The usurper and the lions stole it from her and I will wash them from this earth. I want it. The Seven Kingdoms belong to me—and I will have them.”

Y/N nodded. “You will, sunshine. I promise you that. You are the eldest. By Dornish right and custom, it belongs to you.” Y/N reached out and curled her finger around the silver strand at her ear, and she was suddenly so aware that Rhaenys was growing up. She looked so much like Elia. Where had the time gone? Her hand dropped back to her side. “You will be queen.”

“Y/N!”

She turned at sound of her name and saw Rhaenys walking toward her, draped in a silken Qartheen dress, and her little yellow dragon in her arms. She had named her Vēzos—it meant Sun in High Valyrian. She knew what Rhaenys meant when she had named her dragon. Elia was the Sun of Dorne. Rhaenys had been her sunshine. And now Rhaenys had a sun of her own. Beautiful and terrible and all hers. Y/N could not be more proud. “You are up early, my sunshine. Your brothers and aunt are still resting like the dead.” Last night a grand reception had been held by their host, filling his gardens with all the elite of the city. The Pureborn, the Thirteen, Warlocks—all of them, had descended on the lush grounds and had their fill of fine wood and drink while whispering about the ‘uncivilized’ Dothraki and stealing glances at the dragons while trying to make conversation with the four guests of honor.

It had been exhausting. Most of the party had been spent with Ser Jorah, trying to keep the Dothraki from pilfering anything worth value or Balerion from destorying the guests' fine dresses. Truthfully, Y/N wouldn’t’ve cared but Daenerys said it would not be kind to their host. Oh well.

“They drank much more than me,” Rhaenys said with a smile. Y/N patted the cushioned seat next to her but Rhaenys shook her head. “I have something to show you.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow but stood and followed Rhaenys out of Xaro’s manse, grabbing one of her swords on the way out and sliding it into the belt at her waist. The city was still sleeping and strangely quiet—quiet enough that Y/N could hear the ocean. The port of Qarth was one of the great ports of the known world and Y/N had grown up hearing of the treasure her parents had once plundered from the Jade Gates—it had been the trip they had taken just after they were married. Strangely romantic. The port was a little busier than the quiet of the city and Y/N stepped closer to Rhaenys as they neared the unfamiliar crowd. But, Rhaenys paid no one any mind until she spotted a man with a plumed hat who bowed when she stepped toward him.

“Right on time, Princess! Are you ready?”

Y/N had barely any time to ask what was going on before Rhaenys took her by the hand and ushered her onto the Swan Ship and it pulled away from the port. “Are you kidnapping me, sunshine?” She asked with a laugh.

“Only for a few hours.”

The ship made quick work of sailing through the Jade Gates and toward the East of Essos. And while the sun grew higher in the sky, Rhaenys steadfastly evaded any questions Y/N posed about their destination and she only grew more confused when the ship slowly stopped, rocking in time with the quiet waves—no land in sight.

And Rhaenys’ smile only widened. “Welcome to the Jade Sea.”

Y/N had to laugh and little Vēzos chirped at the noise. “Oh, sunshine. You never fail to surprise me.”

“My ladies!” The captain called out from behind the helm. “We only have a few moments before the Qartheen galleys stop us for taxes—I recommend you make the most of it.”

And that was how Y/N found herself diving off the side of the ship into the cool waters, uncaring that she had left her only weapon on the deck of the boat. Rhaenys was next to her, the folds of her dress floating around her like a sparkling sea creature. And little Vēzos, still unable to fly just yet, had taken to the water too, strangely enough. She flitted around the pair, yellow wings keeping her afloat.

This was paradise.

Oberyn- I cannot believe little Dorea has celebrated another nameday. It feels like yesterday you have told me of her coming into this world. Did she like the little jade sun we sent? Aegon had it commissioned at the market here in Qarth. The deal between the Pureborn and our little band of Dothraki and displaced regents is nearly solidified. We will have nearly twenty galleys with the small mountain of Valyrian steel we had reclaimed from the Rhoyne. (I, of course, have hidden several bits of armor and the lion-headed sword, and a few other weapons I had found, outside the city. Just in case. I am saving a spearhead I have found for you. I do hope you like it.) But it does seem like the deal is taking longer than I had ever anticipated. Or perhaps I should have anticipated it—the Pureborn, the warlocks, no one wants Valyrian steel. Not when dragons have come again. For now, everyone is safe. Thriving. I know you weren’t particularly keen on any of the names chosen for the hatchlings but I am still mostly unable to tell them no when they ask so sweetly. Drogon does seem to be the largest still, followed by Vēzos, then Aegon’s Viserion, and Jon’s little Rhaegal is still…little. Mayhaps that is a cosmic joke. But you should see them when they are all together. There is something magical there, powerful. The sun shines brightly on all of them. I am so proud. Please give Ellaria my love.

On the end of the fourth moon of their time in the city, the woman in the lacquered mask, the Shadowbinder Quaithe who still did not speak plainly no matter how much they insisted, appeared again in their rooms.

“You have not left the city, dragonriders.”

Y/N drew her sword but the masked woman did not flinch.

“What do you want?” Aegon asked.

“I have told you. You did not listen. Soon, you will not be permitted to leave the city. You all must learn the truth. And you must-”

“Pass beneath the Shadow,” Jon finished, obviously having heard the request before. “There is nothing for us in Asshai. Truth or otherwise.”

“You will learn.” The woman paused. “Do not trust the whisper.” And then she vanished, as if conjured by shadows herself and the door to their chambers burst open and the small khalasar filled in, shouting something in their language Y/N was still learning—but she caught “dragons” and “gone.” And that was all she needed. And her four charges all let out screams of anguish, as if they had lost limbs with the news. Perhaps that is what it felt like.

They all poured out of their temporary home and into the garden, past the dead bodies of a handful of Daenerys’ handmaidens, to see Pyat Pree and Xaro waiting for them. Y/N would not be able to recall anything they said, only the gist.

The other warlocks had stolen the dragons, seeking power. Xaro and Pyat Pree would lead the four (Aegon, Jon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys) to the House of the Undying, the warlocks’ seat of power in Qarth, where they were holding the hatchlings. In exchange, the two wanted Daenerys and her khalasar to help them establish a ‘new order’ in Qarth. They wanted to be kings.

In short, Daenerys agreed. She wanted nothing more than the hatchlings back and her niece and nephews happy again. But there were, of course, conditions. Only the four could go.

“This is ridiculous,” Y/N muttered.

But the four wanted to go, feeling the need—no matter how unsafe—to be near the hatchling that had chosen them.

“At least take a knife,” she said, pressing one of the (many) daggers she had into each of their hands when Xaro and Pyat had turned their backs. And that was all she could do. They would not be argued with. Y/N could only wish that she had been left in better company than Ser Jorah Mormont who seemed to be already in love with Daenerys. She did not like it. But she knew she could not always fight every battle for them, even if she wished she could, even if she wished she could shoulder the burden she knew they felt on their too-young shoulders. Their heartbreak, their anger, it was hers, too. And she would do anything she could to help make them smile again. And now? It seemed that meant waiting.

As the sun rose in the sky and then set and the moon soon followed, Y/N had not moved from the seat she had taken on the steps leading inside. Jorah had spoken to her, about his life in Westeros but she did not particularly care. He seemed to have received a lenient sentence for his crimes. But he had been proven loyal to Daenerys while Viserys had traded her to Drogo. An ally was an ally. Sending him away when they had so few this side of the Narrow Sea would be unwise.

Smoke rising on the horizon made her finally move from her seat.

But then the gate opened again and Rhaenys, Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys came rushing back, each with their hatchling carefully held in their grasps.

“We must go! Now!” Daenerys said—she quickly said it again in Dothraki and the assembled khalasar splintered, quickly picking up anything worth value as they moved.

“Khaleesi? What happened?”

Daenerys did not answer—but Jon did. “It was a trap. We’ve killed them. We must leave.”

“Where are we going?” Y/N had to ask, following them back inside to gather her things and to help pilfer.

“We will figure it out later! We must go!”

With a sword in one hand and a golden candelabra in the other, Y/N felt a chill slide down her spine and she turned to see Quaithe again. The woman simply stared at her, unmoving for a heartbeat or two, and then she slithered from the shadows. “You are their shadow, my lady. The sharp shadow. A shark with dark teeth.”

“That is not helpful!” Y/N hissed in return.

“You will learn. Just as they have—they listened. They did not trust the whisper they heard.”

“Y/N! We must go!”

She turned at the sound of the outburst to see Aegon, arms full of sacks filled with thieved treasures and Viserion on his shoulder. When she turned back to Quaithe, she was gone. Again. Y/N pushed out a sigh and turned, dashing out of the manse and not looking back. They only stopped for a moment for Y/N to dig up her buried treasure.

“You could not help yourself, could you?”

“Now is not the time, Jon.”

When they reached the port, she could already hear the screams coming from the city. Whatever had transpired at the House of the Undying was clearly more than anyone could have anticipated. Some of the Valyrian steel they had meant to sell to the Pureborn was handed over to a captain of a large ship—large enough for them and the small khalasar—and fast enough, too. Quickly, she bought a bit of ink and parchment from a vendor who seemed nonplussed at all the commotion.

She needed help.

She needed Oberyn. She needed Willas.

I do not know where we are going after Qarth, I only know that both Rhaenys and Daenerys seem to be answering a call I cannot hear. Aegon and Jon follow where they lead. Toward destiny or ruin or both, I do not know. But I do know that I cannot do this without you. I cannot guide them without you. I need you. Please.

She wrote a few lines more on each of them, asking them to bring who they wanted, pleading with Oberyn to bring Ellaria, asking Willas to continue to write to her if he could not or would not come. All of it. For the first time in over a decade, she prayed to any of the deities she could remember as she signed her name. She shoved the pair of missives into a familiar captain’s hands along with a small sack of gold and told him where to have them sent as their small group boarded the boat. All she could do was hope.

Astapor would not have been her first choice.

It would not have been her fifteenth choice. But Jorah had convinced Daenerys that they needed an army, a true army, not the small khalasar that they currently had. The famed Unsullied of Astapor could provide that…supposedly.

But there was a certain set to her jaw, and an unspoken look between Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon that had Y/N thinking they all had ulterior motives. She had seen that same look between Ellia and Oberyn years ago, a silent conversation only they would understand. While it made her sad, it also made her hopeful. Hopeful for a future where they could all love and care for each other without fear.

Fear. A terrible thing.

Another reason why Astapor would have been avoided if she had been asked. But Ser Jorah had Daenerys’ ear and had filled her mind of thoughts of Unsullied. An army made entirely of men who would follow orders without question, who were thought to not feel pain or fear.

But, Y/N found that his words had soured the more he spoke of their ‘training’ and they stepped into the red-bricked city. Daenerys grew furious when they were given a ‘taste’ of the Unsullied and the good master, a terribly mustachioed man named Kraznys, had bragged about how they did not feed them or give them water for a day and a night and they would stand guard until they dropped. ‘Such is their obedience,’ his translator, a delicately beautiful young woman from Naath named Missandei said. All of it made Y/N’s skin crawl.

“Khaleesi. The Unsullied are chosen as boys and trained-”

“I have heard and seen all I care for about their training!” Daenerys hissed before she cracked a slap across Jorah’s cheek, tears glistening in her eyes as they retired back to the manse they had ‘graciously’ been given for the night.

Y/N glanced back at Aegon and Jon who suddenly found the manse’s ceiling very interesting but Rhaenys kept her eyes firmly trained on her aunt.

Jorah clutched at his reddened cheek. “If I have displeased my queen-”

“You have displeased me greatly, Ser. If you were my true knight, you would never have brought me to this vile sty.” Daenerys’ bottom lip trembled as if she wanted to say more but she kept quiet and turned to Y/N. “We should not have come here; I am so sorry.”

Y/N shook her head and drew Daenerys into her hold. She did not have words to soothe her. What could she say? But she watched Jorah slink from the room and kissed Daenerys’ forehead as she had done hundreds of times in Braavos. Before all of this. Before dragons.

“I want to help them,” Daenerys murmured as she pulled back from Y/N’s arms. “They are people in need of help. They do not… they do not deserve this. If we are in a position of power, should we not help them?”

“Our position of power is fragile and small,” she stressed the word. “We must be smart. There are thousands of them and only a few dozen of us.”

“That has never stopped you,” Rhaenys said with a smirk that had Y/N sighing. “And there might be thousands of them but we have dragons.”

“Baby dragons,” Y/N murmured.

“But dragons all the same,” Daenerys said, reaching out to Rhaenys who quickly took her hand.

“We have been running all our lives, unsafe for who we are. Unsafe because of something we did not chose. If… if I am to be queen, I do not want to know that there are people in this world in shackles when I had the power to help them.”

Aegon and Jon stepped up, hands on their swords. “We will help you.”

Y/N nodded. “In Skilliga, all people are free—we were looked down upon because of that by the supposed Free Cities and the Valyrian Empire before the Doom. I will fight this battle beside you. As always.”

And that is how they found themselves back in the revolting company of the good master. At first, they offered the small mountain of Valyrian steel. But, just as in Qarth, the ‘good masters’ of Astapor did not want Valyrian steel. They wanted dragons. And Kraznys always posed his questions to Aegon and Jon—as if Daenerys and Rhaenys were not there at all. Missandei, however, seemed to understand immediately that it was the women who were truly steering this possible transaction.

Y/N liked Missandei.

“We will need time to think of your offer,” Aegon said as he stood from his seat. The rest of them followed suit. There was no way any of the dragons were going to be forfeited for an army, but Kraznys did not need to know that just yet.

Kraznys sneered as he looked at them and Y/N did not need Missandei to translate his next insult. And she really didn’t think ‘stupid sunset girls’ really applied to all of them. At all. But that did not matter. When they arrived at the manse and one of Daenerys’s handmaidens, a petite woman named Irri, greeted them at the door, she was speaking rapidly, and pointing toward the manse’s solar.

For a moment, Y/N had the horrible thought that the hatchlings had been stolen again but then she caught the words “sun” and “prince.” And then she and Daenerys were darting away from the group and running toward where Irri had pointed.

She could hear them before she saw them.

But she turned a corner and saw a head full of brown curls and a familiar, shining black cane and her heart leapt into her throat as he turned to face her.

“My lady-”

She threw her arms around him in a hug and held him tight. “Oh, Willas. Oh my dear, sweet Willas. You’ve come.” And she nearly wept when she felt his arms wrap around her back and squeeze, she didn’t even care that the handle of his cane was digging into her spine. She didn’t care. He was here and in her arms.

“You have not changed at all, my lady,” he murmured as he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Your latest letter was a…most welcome surprise.”

His warm hand gently cradled her cheek and she felt tears stinging at her eyes at the soft touch. It had been far too long since someone had touched her…at all. Especially with such care.

“I’ve missed you,” Willas whispered.

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, to tell him that she had missed him more than she could have ever put into words and so she did not try, but then the rest of her brood were rushing by her and into the solar.

“Uncle Oberyn!” Rhaenys nearly wailed.

Y/N pulled back to see Rhaenys fling herself at Oberyn who was crying into her two-toned hair with a broad smile on his face. He was older now, true. But still as handsome.

Willas’s hand gently grasped hers and led her a little further into the room. “Let me introduce you to my fair traveling companions.” He smiled at her, as if feeling her sudden nerves through her hand as it clutched his. “They were kind enough to let me stowaway on their ship after we received your letters.” He laughed but then waved a hand at the woman nearest to him. She was tall with thick, wavy black hair, dotted with golden jewelry and soft yellow samite wrapped around her in a beautiful dress with a copper belt around her waist. “This is Lady Ellaria Sand.”

Ellaria was even more beautiful than Y/N could have ever imagined. She had a regal beauty and kind eyes. Her hands were soft as she reached for Y/N and she happily let the other woman pull her into her grasp in welcome. “It was kind of you to think of me.”

“I would not have Oberyn part with the love of his life,” Y/N said as she stepped back, still smelling Ellaria’s fine perfume. “It was kind of you to join us across the Narrow Sea. I hope your daughters did not mind the waves.”

Ellaria turned and smiled at the young girls who were already surrounding Aegon and Rhaenys and cooing over the still-growing hatchlings who preened with the attention. “This was their first ship ride of this length. But they are simply happy for a bit of adventure.”

Three more women were sitting with Jon and Daenerys, speaking quietly in the corner. “That is Nymeria, Obara, and Tyene,” Willas informed her in a whisper.

“Sarella is still at the Citadel?” Y/N asked.

Ellaria nodded with a chuckle. “I am sure it was a heavy decision for her. Oberyn has promised to bring her back all the relics our ship can hold.”

“And I shall deliver on that promise, will I not, my love?” Oberyn said, appearing at Ellaria’s side and kissing her slowly at the corner of her mouth before turning to Y/N. Before she could even try to think of an appropriate greeting, Oberyn reached out and his large hands were grasping at her face and he was kissing her. She was frozen, like a scared little mouse cornered by a viper. But he tasted delicious—like citrus and spice and heat. And as soon as it started, he stepped back. His smile was large, large still as he looked at her confused face. “It is good to see you, Little Shark.”

Willas’ warm hand on her back pulled Y/N back to reality before she glanced at Ellaria who only winked at her. This did nothing to ease her growing confusion but Y/N shuffled the group toward the small hall the manse provided, telling everyone to sit more comfortably instead of standing.

Oberyn told them of how the Usurper was dead and how the Seven Kingdoms had fallen into war. The War of the Five Kings they called it. “Your mother’s family,” Oberyn said as he looked at Jon, “seem to be the largest threat to the Lannisters. They have captured Jamie Lannister.”

Jon seemed pleased with that, in his own quiet way.

“Perhaps an alliance could be made,” Ellaria said. “It would be good to have a Northron ally,” She turned and smiled at Willas, “Aside from our sweet Willas and his band of fair flowers.”

Willas’ cheeks bloomed with color at Ellaria’s words. “My grandmother and I are ready whenever we are needed. Right now, we are letting Margaery play at being queen. She knows it will only be temporary, but she has been…trained by my grandmother in all the ways she knows to sway the opinion of the low and highborn. I am sure by the time we make landfall, they may be waiting for you all with open arms.”

“I do not believe it will be hard to sway them when Cersei Lannister and her little golden children are waging war and starving them,” one of the older Sand Snakes, Obara, muttered. Y/N liked Obara.

“But enough talk of Westeros! Tell us of your lives here in Essos.”

And so they did. They started from the beginning—the four of them told their family of how they jumped from city to city, evading assassins and would-lords in search of gold and glory, all while learning of their family and former homeland across the Narrow Sea. Rhaenys was nearly glowing as she recounted their time along the Rhoyne and everyone at the table seemed entranced, too, promising to see for themselves the land that had once belonged to their ancestors. And all of that led to Astapor and the possible deal with the good master.

“You cannot truly be thinking of giving him a dragon?” Tyene asked.

“I will play his game.” Daenerys slid her hand down Drogon’s neck and the ever-growing hatchling trilled as he looked at his mother, as if agreeing to what she wanted. “He will simply not know that it is my game, my rules.”

The rest of the night was spent filled with terrible Astapori wine and shared food and laughter. Y/N was yawning but smiled when she felt Willas’ fingers trace across the back of her neck as Balerion was curled contentedly on his lap beside her. He seemed to realize what he was doing and his hand snapped back to his side, disturbing the old cat who meowed, displeased, before leaping across the table to settle in Rhaenys’ hold.

“Sorry, my lady.”

But she shook her head, still smiling. “Never apologize.”

They spoke for a little longer before Dorea and Loreza started to fall asleep in their seats and Ellaria excused herself to tuck them into bed, letting Aegon lead the way to one of the guest rooms. The group dispersed, little by little, until it was only Y/N, Willas, and Oberyn left in the hall.

“I must take my leave, my lady,” Willas said with a yawn. “I am sure I will need all my energy for tomorrow.” He looked at her then, and she could not read his face though she tried. But his intentions became clear as his lips touched her cheek before his cane tapped against the floor as he retired for the night.

Y/N nearly leapt out of her skin when Oberyn’s hand enveloped hers when he settled beside her as she watched Willas walk away. But he only chuckled. “Peace, Little Shark, peace. It is just me.”

She huffed out a laugh and let her other hand cover his. “It is good to see you, truly. You and your family…you all seem so happy.”

“We are. My daughters are healthy and happy and Ellaria is the light of my days. And you,” he squeezed her hand, “you, little shark, have raised my sister’s children. You have kept them safe and healthy and happy.” He untangled their hands only to touch the sun pendant around her throat for a moment and a brief, sad smile pulled at his lips before he reached up to grasp her face again, gentle and warm. “You. Do not think to undermine yourself to me. You love them as they love you. You have taken on a responsibility you needn’t call yours—all because you loved my sister.” He kissed her forehead. “You have loved my family.” He kissed her right cheek and Y/N felt her breath stutter in her lungs. “You have helped them bring magic back into this wretched world.” He kissed her left. “And you…you still smile like the girl I knew all those years ago.” And then he kissed her again, brushing his lips against hers with a happy sigh and all Y/N could do was let him guide her, let him rob her lungs of air for the second time that night, let him fulfill a dream she had selfishly kept since her girlhood in Westeros.

But then she remembered Ellaria. Her hand found Oberyn’s chest and she gently pushed.

“What is it?” He asked, voice soft. “If I have overstepped-”

“The mother of your youngest is asleep in the other room, My Prince.”

“And she would take the time to kiss you properly as well. And she will, when or if you give her the opportunity.” His familiar roguish smile made her stomach twist with pleasant butterflies. “My heart may have found its match with my love, Ellaria, but that does not mean yours does not call to mine as well. We were made to delight in all the gods have given us. Ellaria and I often share in our delights. If you, my little shark, are amiable, I would like to keep kissing you. I would like for Ellaria to have her chance to kiss you, too.” And when she went to bed that night, slipping under her blankets, her mind hazed with thoughts of soft lips and kind words and the scent of roses she could not place.

The next day, they solidified the deal with Kraznys. He had tried to say he would only give them all of the Unsullied for all four dragons, but Daenerys stood firm and only agreed to one. The biggest. Drogon.

“And I shall take you as well,” Daenerys said as she turned to Missandei. “As a mark of a deal well struck.”

Missandei quickly translated to Kraznys who then waved a dismissive hand, allowing it. As if Missandei were not a person. It turned her stomach.

As soon as they were back at their manse, Rhaenys took the thick collar from around Missandei’s neck and threw it into the hearth, letting the leather smoke and burn.

“Is there a family on Naath we might reunite you with? A father, a mother?”

Missandei shook her head. “There is no one left of my family on Naath, your grace. This one is…alone.”

Daenerys reached out and gently took Missandei’s hands in her own. “You are no longer alone. You are with us. You are a free person—if you ever tire of our company, simply say so and we shall let you go wherever you wish. We will give you gold, a ship—anything you may need. I swear it.”

Missandei’s dark gold eyes searched Daenerys’ face before looking to Rhaenys and doing the same. “I will be able to leave?”

Rhaenys nodded. “Now, tomorrow, ten years from now. If you want to leave, we will make sure you are given all you require to make a comfortable life for yourself.”

“And what of the Unsullied who become yours tomorrow?”

Daenerys and Rhaenys wore matching, Cheshire smiles. “We have plans for them.”

“Are you certain of this plan?” Willas whispered as he watched Y/N place one of her (many) swords into its scabbard around her waist. They had been speaking all morning, of his time at Highgarden, of him traveling to Sunspear under the pretense of meeting with Princess Arianne, all of it. And she found herself realizing how easy it was to speak to him—how easy it had always been. But then the topic suddenly changed as he ask of the plan Daenerys and Rhaenys had hatched.

“I am,” she said.

“They are all destined to rule, in one way or another. They are queens; I am only an advisor. I must trust in their judgement.”

“And if it fails?”

“It won’t.” She slid another blade up her sleeve. “But I am never unprepared.” Y/N turned to Willas and smiled as she reached out to press a hand to his cheek. The mustache he had grown since she had last seen him suited him. He was always so handsome. “It is good to have you here. I shudder to think of the state of my nerves if you had refused my call.”

Willas smiled and reached up to cover her hand with his. “You know I could never refuse you, my lady.”

Y/N wanted to say more—wanted to say something, anything—but Aegon appeared in the doorway of her chambers before she could. Her hand snapped back down to her side. “It is time to go, Y/N.” His dark purple eyes shifted to Willas, “and you as well, my lord.”

Y/N nodded and stepped away from Willas with a strange, shaking smile.

In a strange procession, their group, growing by the day, arrived back at the Plaza of Pride (a stupid name). Drogon had been wrestled into a small cart that morning, his little belly filled with fine steak and Daenerys had peppered kisses along his scaled head before she had sealed him away. The battalions of Unsullied were all standing at rest, spears and shields held in front of them. Slowly, Daenerys walked to the small cart and undid its strappings, pulling Drogon from his makeshift cage with the chain on his foot. He pulled against his bonds as he neared the master. He knew.

“Is it done then? They belong to us?”

The master answered and Missandei translated. “It is done. You hold the whip.”

But the master continued talking, once again calling them all a bunch of bitches and mongrels but Daenerys did not flinch. She merely turned toward the army she now commanded and held up the whip.

“Unsullied!” Daenerys called out in her perfect High Valyrian. Y/N watched Missandei’s head snap around to look at the petite woman.

They instantly moved to attention.

“March forward!” They did. “Halt!” They did.

Y/N looked to Daenerys and then to the other three, seeing them all strangely calm. They were conquerors. They were blood of Old Valyria. They were Nymeria’s heirs. They were her charges.

“Tell the bitch the beast will not come,” the master said as Drogon continued to pull against his hold.

Daenerys slowly turned to face him, still holding the whip. “A dragon is not a slave.”

“You speak Valyrian?” He asked, aghast. But still not embarrassed.

“I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is my mother tongue.”

Aegon had to hide his smile behind his hand.

But then Daenerys turned back toward the Unsullied, her face set in stone. “Unsullied! Slay the masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who holds a whip, but harm no child. Strike the chains off every slave you see!”

And they did. In the next breath, the handful of masters walking at the flanks of the Unsullied had spears through their backs.

“I am your master!” The man screamed. “Kill her! Kill them all!”

“Dracarys.”

Y/N watched Drogon open his mouth and scream. Fire consumed the ‘good master’ and he screamed, too. It was a glorious scene. And, all at once, the square devolved into chaos. The assorted masters, who had come to witness the glory of the dragon, were killed where they stood. Jorah drew his sword but Y/N simply crossed her arms and watched everything unfold.

And, it was over within a span of only a few moments. The slavers were burnt and bloody. Dead. As they should be. But they were not finished.

Daenerys and her niece and nephews mounted their horses and rode through the Unsullied ranks. “Unsullied!” Daenerys called out. “You have been slaves all your life. Today, we give you freedom.”

“Any man who wishes to leave may leave, and no one will harm him. We give you our word,” Aegon said next. Y/N looked out to see a few of the helmeted men covertly glance up at him.

“Will you fight for us? As free men?” Daenerys’ voice rang out and was met with silence. For a moment. And then a single spear was smacked against the sand. Another joined. And then another. And another until the plaza was filled with the sound of the strange sound of the spears in sand.

They had their army. The city was theirs.

They did not leave Astapor immediately. They could not leave the city unguarded or without a stable ruling body. And a way to stabilize the economy.

The city needed to rebuilt from the destruction and just…overall. It was not well kept outside the former masters’ manses. Weeks turned to months as they met with the city’s population, trying to establish a ruling council of men and women who knew the city best and wanted to see it thrive. The Valyrian steel they still had was traded for brick and mortar, food, and medicines. Weapons. And while the city seemed to be getting its metaphorical feet back under itself again, it did nearly deplete their coffers. The gold from the dead masters was seized and redistributed to the freedmen to make sure they could provide for themselves as they settled into the new normal of the city and started their new lives.

The new Kings and Queens of the city took up residence in one of the manses and Balerion found the large open windows a favorite place to nap when he was not harassing the hatchlings, unafraid of their literal ability to breathe fire.

Rhaenys met with a small council of freedmen who had been in charge of the city’s infrastructure and had devised a plan to irrigate the city and its surrounding lands by diverting the water from Astapor’s river, which had been called Worm since the city’s inception. A terrible name, if Y/N was being honest.

But the irrigation was quickly done with new aqueducts and small orchards for plums and olives and lemons were planted, the small khalasar carrying in the plants from outside the city. A vineyard for persimmons was also widened in the center of the city, as Rhaenys knew that Astapor had the ability to make a fairly expensive and tart wine with the fruit. It made Y/N smile to realize that Rhaenys had a gift for creating (an albeit small) fertile wetland out of patch of a desert landscape.

Schools were fitted into the empty manses and training schools were established. It was slow work, true, but Y/N could not argue with the tired smiles that she saw on her charges faces each night as they gathered for dinner.

Jon and Aegon were fond of training alongside the Unsullied who were also helping other freedmen learn how to handle a sword and shield. The army was a force to be feared, truly. Grey Worm, the man they had elected to speak as their commander, had become another advisor. He spoke only High Valyrian as the rest of the Astapor did, but Missandei had been taking the time to teach who she could the Common Tongue. He was a man of the sword in all ways—but Y/N did see how his eyes softened ever so slightly whenever Missandei was in his presence. Small rebellions from former masters were quickly dealt with. There would be no room for it under their new rule. Oberyn and Willas were firm and fair advisors to the four younger regents. When to dispense bloody justice and when to stay their hand, how to broker trade with foreign kingdoms and settle arguments and disputes between their subjects—they provided guidance that Y/N and Ser Jorah could not. Missandei was a voice of the people and helped them truly know their subjects. She was the strongest of them all, Y/N was sure of it. Ellaria had a strength of her own, endearing herself and the young regents to anyone and anyone she encountered by showering them with gold for their trades and commissioning songs.

And the hatchlings were growing even faster, larger by the day. Y/N often went to market in the mornings to buy goats and cows to feed them when the others were still asleep, trying to keep the dragons from eating someone’s livestock without being compensated for it (again).

Drogon nudged her side as she dragged the fresh meat toward him and she patted his warm snout in greeting. “Good morning to you, too.”

Viserion and Rhaegal were still sleeping, curled around each other over the remnants of a fire that had been burnt last night. But Vēzos was already high in the sky, yellow and orange scales glittering in the early morning glow. But she landed after spotting her breakfast and let out a puff of smoke around Y/N’s face in thanks before she devoured her share.

“Y/N!”

She turned abruptly at the sound of Jon’s voice and frowned when she saw the unhidden panic on his pale features. Rhaegal suddenly rose from the embers of his bed and huffed, sensing his bonded’s dread. “What is it?”

Mayhaps Y/N should not have been surprised to see Xaro amongst the ‘envoys’ from the other slaver cities. It was not as if they had left Qarth on the best of terms…or unscathed.

“We will give you all the boats and soldiers you want or will need to retake Westeros, as long as you leave Slaver’s Bay. Immediately. And allow us to rectify the mess you have made of Astapor.”

“Removing shackles is a mess? Freeing men, women, and children is a mess?”

Drogon and Rhaegal both rumbled from behind their parents and the envoys all stumbled back, some tripping over their ornate robes and gilded slippers.

“It is our way of life!” Someone from Yunkai shouted, voice trembling.

“And their lives have value—more than the coin that line your palms.”

“Astapor is prospering,” Oberyn said. “Our coffers are twice as plentiful now with our wines and citrus and olives as they were when they traded in flesh and bone.”

“And your slaves have heard,” Rhaenys said. She looked regal on the throne beside her brothers and aunt. The Astapori gown she had commission from a freedwoman was made of a beautiful soft yellow linen and her hair was braided with a pair of golden bells at the end, a gift from Irri who had said she had earned it by helping take Astapor and the defeat of the Warlocks in Qarth. “They have heard of our people prosper. How they are free.” And that was true, there had been whispers of a start of an uprising in Yunkai and Meereen since they had taken Astapor.

“You are suggesting that we should free our slaves for a chance-”

“You were the ones to demand an audience,” Daenerys said. “And we were gracious enough to grant your request. But now that you are here, we do have a request. Free your slaves, pay them for their labor from the time you have sought to own them, and set aside your whips and chains.”

“We will not!” “Never!” On and on, the envoy refused.

“The Harpy will have her due!”

Aegon moved in front of Rhaenys, not even bothering to put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “The Harpy is a legend. A statue you have all built from the gold you have accumulated through the blood of innocents. We have four very real dragons and an army better trained and better equipped than your pampered slavers. Send your harpies.”

Y/N groaned as she saw yet another slash she had not remembered receiving when she was readying for bed that night. She had taken to sparring with Jon and Aegon alongside the Unsullied who were not on guard or patrol duties. It had apparently been far too long since she had dedicated time to training of that caliber—not that any of them could even hope to compare to Grey Worm and his compatriots. For now, the threats from Yunkai, Meereen, and Qarth had been unfulfilled. But they were still on their guard. But she did take a few moments of the day to help Dorea and Loreza and Obella work on their fighting stances. Elia, the eldest of the Sand Snakes born to Ellaria, was already very comfortable with her spear and had been taking to training with the Unsullied. Well, they were very patient with her and very gentle—as gentle as they could be. They were a fearsome bunch.

Y/N pulled the linen chemise over her head and reached for her dressing gown after cleaning the small wound.

“My lady,” a soft spoken handmaiden stuck her head into the chambers. “You have a visitor.”

“Send them in, please. I am just about decent enough for company.”

The handmaiden laughed quietly and nodded as Y/N tied the sash around her waist.

“Willas has been quite beneficial—he seems to have a magic touch when it comes to those persimmon trees. They bloom more every day.”

Y/N smiled as she turned to see Oberyn walking into the room. “Well, I have been told he is quite good with anything green. I would not be surprised if he and Rhaenys managed to raise a forest to rival Qohor from the sand.”

Oberyn chuckled and he held out a hand toward her. “Come, take a walk with me before you rest for the night. The night is cool enough for us to enjoy the moonlight.”

Y/N happily took his offered arm and let him lead her out to the gardens around their manse. And it was true, the air was cool and she could hear the faintest rumblings of the sea alongside the murmurs of the city. The gardens were still blooming with flowers despite the heat and the strange flora was a welcome respite from the red brick and sand of the city. It curved and cornered in a strange maze, leading around small fountains, and statues of legendary creatures, never reaching higher than their waists.

“How are your daughters finding the bay?”

“They find the air much like that of Dorne, so they do not mind the heat. But they do enjoy putting their Valyrian lessons to use and trying to learn all they can from the Unsullied.”

“They are formidable.”

Oberyn chuckled. “I would have them no other way. Dorne may be kinder than the other kingdoms of Westeros, but I would not have them unprepared for the rest of the world.” He squeezed her hand. “Just as you have made sure that the four under your care are prepared as well.”

“I have tried my best, my prince.”

Oberyn pulled them to a stop as they neared a bench and they settled next to each other and watched two of the dragons test their wings above them. “We have entered a new world. Dragons have come again. The Martell bloodline is conquering cities.”

“They want to make it a better world. And I want to see them succeed.”

“I will help them in all of their goals, I swear that to you.”

Y/N smiled, knowing what he said was true. She had never known him to break an oath.

“It seems, little shark, that we are not the only ones who thought of admiring the gardens tonight,” Oberyn whispered. He pointed toward the other side of the maze with a growing smile. Willas was standing at Ellaria’s side, looking as red as could be and trying to hide it behind his hand. Ellaria was smiling at him as if she hadn’t a care in the world—but the glint in her beautiful eyes told Y/N that Ellaria knew exactly the effect she was having on the lord.

“He does not quite know how to hold his wine,” Oberyn said with a smirk. “If given too much, he would accept any challenge.”

“Is that why there is now a golden pearl on his ear, my prince?”

Oberyn only chuckled. “You must admit, he looks quite dashing.”

“Yes, he does. But you know I’ve always been fond of his shy smile.”

“And he has been fond of you.”

Y/N clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Perhaps when I was younger, still a young wife in the making with connections to a royal court or two. It has been ages since I have made him smile like that.”

Now it was Oberyn’s turn to shake his head. “Little Lord Willas, heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms in Westeros, has remained unmarried and unattached since you disappeared from Dragonstone, little shark. And it is not for lack of trying from the many unmarried women who know of his status.”

It would be a lie to say that her heart did not clench when it was said aloud and so bluntly. “It would be foolish to think-”

“Despite his family’s animosity, he and I have…become friends.”

“Friends?” Y/N parroted with an arch of her eyebrow.

Oberyn’s wolfish smile made her stomach flip, as it always did. “You know I treat my friends well.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile, biting her lip. “No wonder he has remained unmarried. Who could compete with the Red Viper?”

Oberyn’s warm hand settled over hers and squeezed. “You know I am not opposed to having a married person in my bed. It was not me who kept him from calling someone wife.”

Y/N scoffed. “You cannot be insinuating that I-”

“I’m not insinuating anything, little shark. I am telling you. The man has been in love with you since you first came to Westeros. When he was still a shy young thing and you were the foreign maid who acted as my sister’s shadow.”

“We haven’t seen each other in over a decade. I am now old enough to be considered an old maid-”

“And the heart wants what the heart wants. He has come half way across the world because you asked him to. Now, tell me, why did you ask him?”

“I…” She tried to think of an answer. Because he had helped her flee. Because he was a friend. Because because because. But none of those reasons seemed like the truth. “I do not know.”

A small skirmish had broken out on the borders of Astapor. The sellsword company known as the Windblown had allegedly been hired by Yunkai to deal with the ‘dragon kings and queens.’ It, of course, hadn’t worked and they were pushed back the Unsullied.

The fight had only given them all credence to continue to feed the rebellions in the other cities and slowly cut off their supply chains at the mouth of the bay. This morning, Y/N was reviewing the takings from the ships they had seized when she noticed a familiar face was missing.

“Where has Oberyn gone?” Y/N asked as she entered the kitchens, finding Ellaria there, pouring a bit of honey over a bowl of berries.

“He set off in the night, some mission on his mind.”

“You did not go with him?” Y/N asked as she slipped into the seat beside her, plucking a handful of berries from the bowl. “I am surprised he would not have you at his side.”

Ellaria chuckled and shook her head. “He asked, but I did not think our daughters would like to be too far from the excitement of the cities.” She popped a berry between her beautiful lips with a growing smile. “And I did hope we could know each other a little better. Oberyn always speaks of you so fondly. I feel as if we are friends already.”

Y/N felt a wash of warmth as she looked at the other woman and nodded. “I feel that way as well. But I would be honored if I could steal a bit of your time today, if your daughters would not mind.”

Ellaria gave her another dashing smile. “I am sure they will survive a few hours without me.”

And so, Y/N let Ellaria lead her around the city, mostly through the markets that Y/N had not had the chance to truly peruse. And it was true, they had settled into a camaraderie that usually took years to build. Ellaria might have been the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen, but she was also kind and funny and had a sharp wit with a matching, striking smile. Y/N only wished she’d had the fortune of having her as a friend years ago—but Y/N would take what she could get now. And hold to it desperately.

“This?” Y/N held up a pale lilac bit of silk, they had been trying to find the right fabric for a new dress for Y/N—apparently Ellaria found Y/N’s lack of dresses something to be rectified.

Ellaria shook her head and picked up a stretch of red lace, filled with delicate flowers with tiny golden thread woven within. Ellaria draped it over Y/N’s shoulder with a smile. “This suits you. The flowers. Just a touch of gold. It is delicate—like you.”

Y/N chuckled and let her finger slide against the edge of the lace. “I do not think I have ever been called delicate.”

Ellaria’s soft fingers gently grasped Y/N’s chin and there was a steely determination in her gaze as she looked into Y/N’s eyes. “You are delicate, Y/N. Your skin and soul may have been forged in steel, but your heart is delicate. You have a soft, gentle heart. And you are ever the more beautiful for it.” Her hand moved to cradle Y/N’s cheek, surely feeling its warmth. “Do you not see yourself as I do?”

“Apparently not,” Y/N said with a shake of her head, not too rough to have Ellaria’s touch leave.

“You are,” she said and then leaned close enough to just barely brush her lips against hers before she pulled the lace from around Y/N’s shoulders and turned back to the merchant. “We will take all of this. Thank you.”

And then Ellaria was all but hauling her back into the cooled shadows of their manse and out into the gardens again, dropping their lace and silks off into the hands of a smiling handmaiden who giggled as they walked by.

It was just the pair of them in the garden, listening to the trickling of water and the wind as it rustled the rigged leaves and branches of the maze. But all Y/N could feel, see, hear, was Ellaria.

Ellaria and her beautiful lips.

Ellaria’s mouth was soft as it moved against hers. And she sighed so prettily when Y/N tangled her fingers into her thick hair and tugged.

“Oh.”

Y/N pulled away from Ellaria’s beautiful mouth to see Willas standing near one of the fountains, a pink tinge to his cheeks and a white-knuckle grip on his cane.

“Lord Willas,” Ellaria called out, her voice husky, “join us.”

Willas looked away, cheeks still roaring with color, and shook his head. “I am afraid I would only…get in the way.” He cleared his throat and turned. “Please, excuse me.”

Y/N watched him go, mind clearing for a moment, and frowned.

Ellaria dragged her lips against Y/N’s cheek. “He will join us when he’s ready. I promise you that.” She sponged a kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth. “But I do not want to be interrupted again. If you are agreeable, I want to see what you have hiding under this hideous tunic.”

And well, Y/N could never tell her no and led her back to her chambers and locked the door.

Ellaria was even softer beneath her fine, silk dress that Y/N slowly pushed down her arms to greedily cup her full breasts in her hands.

“Eager,” Ellaria said with a breathy chuckle.

Y/N could only whine against her mouth as she felt Ellaria’s nimble fingers slide easily beneath the tops of her leather breeches. They were pushed down her legs and her loose tunic was pulled up and over her head before Ellaria all but shoved her back onto the featherbed, watching her bounce with a smile. Y/N didn’t even have thought to be a little shy over her nakedness—she just wanted Ellaria close again. And then Ellaria was crawling up the bed and settling across Y/N’s stomach, warm thighs bracketing her ribs. And there was something nearly magical with knowing she was the cause of the slick spot she could feel growing just above her belly button. She had made Ellaria feel like that.

Y/N’s hands slid up her smooth skin to hold her hips and Ellaria’s hands settled over hers with a widening smile.

“I like seeing you like this,” Ellaria said before leaning down to lick across Y/N’s mouth before kissing her thoroughly, oh so easily stealing the breath from her lungs. Then she moved. Her lips trailed down Y/N’s neck, to her chest, teeth scraping against the curve of her breasts as she slid down Y/N’s body, and dragged her slick lips against Y/N’s skin. Her mind was a warm mess—all there was, was Ellaria and her beautiful mouth. Ellaria and her perfect hands. Ellaria and her wet tongue.

Ellaria slipped between Y/N’s legs and kissed her left hip and then her right before licking a bold stripe against Y/N’s folds, wrenching a broken moan from her lips. “So pretty,” Ellaria cooed. And her grip tightened. Again and again the Dornishwoman’s tongue curled and twisted and Y/N could feel an unfamiliar coil start to tighten in her stomach as her thighs suddenly clamped around Ellaria’s head. The woman only laughed against her core and the vibrations had Y/N moaning, hands reaching down to tangle in Ellaria’s perfect, perfumed hair. Ellaria managed to wriggle her hand between them and curled one finger and then two into the wet heat of Y/N’s core and started to slide them in and out, in and out, wet sounds filling the air alongside Y/N’s growing moans.

It was perfect. She was perfect. And as soon as Ellaria curled her fingers, the coil snapped and Y/N sobbed. Her heart was racing, sweat and dotted her chest and brow but she felt beautiful and her vision cleared and she looked down to see Ellaria pressing her cheek against her hip, drawing shapes against her heated skin with the dull nail of her forefinger.

“You must teach me how to do that. I want to make you feel like this.”

And so…Ellaria did.

The next morning, Ellaria was still sleeping peacefully, tangled in Y/N’s silken blankets as she rose with the sun. Y/N gently pressed a kiss to her cheek and slipped away from her comforting warmth to ready for the day and found Daenerys sitting on one of the manse’s balconies, watching the four hatchlings soar above the gardens as the sun grew hotter and higher in the sky. Y/N sat beside her and had a bit of food brought out so they could break their fast together. Daenerys seemed…happy. Truly. Happier than she had been since Y/N had seen her last, as a child. But there was something she was not saying. Y/N knew it.

“Tell me what is on your mind, Dany.” She reached out and gently grasped the young princess’ hand and squeezed three times.

“I do not…” She paused. “I was born on Dragonstone. I am the princess of the rightful ruling family.” She pushed out a long breath. “I will see my niece on the Iron Throne and I know the kingdom will be better for it.”

“But?” Y/N asked, knowing there was something else that needed to be said.

“But I do not know if Westeros is my home. I have no memories of it. Jon and Aegon do not either but they still feel some sort of calling, a need to go back.” The wind blew a bit of her silver hair across her face as she looked out across the bay. “I do not feel that. Viserys sold me for the throne he thought he deserved and I found a small bit of solace in my few friends in my khalasar and then more here with the Unsullied and the freedmen of the bay.”

Y/N watched a few emotions flitter across Daenerys’ face before she turned back to the bay, too. “You have been pushed and pulled to one place or another your entire life, Dany. Finding a place where you feel at home is something to be proud of. Do not let other people’s opinions or aspirations dictate yours. You deserve a home. Peace.”

“And where is your home? Skilliga?”

Y/N shrugged. “Skilliga has housed me and raised me just as much as Westeros and Essos has, I suppose. I know my uncle and cousins are safe and happy there. I know that I will be able to hear and taste the sea from my rooms again if I ever went back.” She sighed. “But I think I have seen too much of the world to be happy on my little island again, for the rest of my life.”

“Mayhaps you can find a home with Lord Willas. I have heard how he calls on you—ever so sweetly.”

Y/N groaned. “Not you as well, Dany!”

The girl only laughed.

Y/N sighed. “Either way, if you want to stay in Essos, you can. What is a few thousand miles to a dragon, hm? Nothing. Your family will never be too far.” She tugged at the end of Daenerys’ braid and listened to the Dothraki bells she had earned ring. “But you mustn’t think of it just yet, Dany. We still have so much more to do.” She pressed a smile to her face. “We have time.”

Daenerys giggled and shook her head. “And we still have so much to do this side of the Narrow Sea.”

It had been ages since Y/N had thought of sacking a city. She used to dream of it as a little girl, bringing home riches and other pretty things to fill her rooms and make her parents proud. But perhaps her parents were more bloodthirsty than the rest of Skilliga—and that had been why Uncle Hammond had sent her away to Westeros, to try to quell that need for violence with the niceties of a foreign court and responsibility. But, she had to ask herself as she looked over the maps of the cities and waterways and tunnels, that hadn’t quite worked, had it?

Obara and Nymeria were near-master tacticians, easily finding ways Y/N did not see to surround the city and infiltrate even the thickest of defense walls. But their true expertise, it seemed, in planning diversions.

“I can take a small battalion of freedmen to the west gate and use the two battering rams we have made from the scraps of Valyrian steel.”

“That will give Grey Worm’s host enough of time to march through the South Gate which will be raised by Belwas.”

Dorea was seated on Y/N’s lap, as she often was during war room discussions, moving the pieces across the war map along with her sisters’ plans. Y/N never did mind when she first crawled atop her legs without invitation but had welcomed her every time it happened. She reminded Y/N of the quietly intelligent but playful Rhaenys used to be.

“I like this color,” Dorea said, holding up the Martell orange token embellished with the familiar red dragon of House Targaryen.

“It is pretty, is it not?” Y/N answered. “Can you put that at the West Gate for me?”

The little girl did happily.

“Thank you, Dorea,” She said as she gently swept Dorea’s hair away from her forehead, it had fallen from the intricate braid Ellaria had woven this morning. “We shall make a strategist out of you yet.”

She happily laughed and it drew more smiles from Obara and Nymeria. “I’m hungry.”

“I think the kitchens are just about ready for luncheon, little one. Why don’t you go see?”

Dorea leapt from Y/N’s lap and scurried away with another laugh.

“You are good with her.”

“I have had plenty of practice.”

“When you have your own, I am sure even the nurses will know less than you.”

Y/N huffed at Nymeria’s well-intentioned remark. “I am not sure if I will have any of my own.”

“Why not?” Obara asked, arching one of her dark eyebrows. “It is obvious you crave for some of your own.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond when the door to the war room opened and Tyene ran inside, her pale cheeks were filled with color and her eyes darted to her sisters.

“Someone has breached our walls.”

Y/N was running out of the room before she could hear the rest of what Tyene had said—she sprinted toward the kitchens, where she knew her charges were probably gathering for their next meal.

And she was, unfortunately, correct.

And it seemed the intruder knew their schedule as well.

Two men with golden harpy masks had Daenerys at the end of their swords. Little Dorea was standing behind her, eyes narrowed. The bodies of the kitchen maids were on the floor, crimson puddles staining the marble floors.

Y/N had meant to sneak up on them. Truly. They hadn’t noticed her presence just yet-

But Aegon and Jon burst in through the other door and drew the harpies’ attention. They pivoted and their swords raised. Y/N shoved Aegon out of the way and felt the warm steel sink into her stomach. And then it happened again, the blade finding the bone of her hip as it broke through. Blood bubbled in her mouth with her next breath and she watched, in a haze, as Jon took one of the men’s head from his shoulders.

“Y/N?” Rhaenys’ voice was fading in her ears as she fell to her knees, she barely saw her eldest standing in the kitchen doorway.

There was a scuffle with the other man, but she hardly noticed, feeling her heart beat in time with the warmth coating her hands. It drip drip dripped onto the marble in an uneven staccato.

It took her a moment to realize that both Rhaenys and Daenerys were trying to speak to her, their little hands pressing over her wounds and trying to staunch the bleeding.

“That hurts,” Y/N said, words tumbling from her mouth without thought. Of course it hurt. She had been stabbed.

“I cannot do this without you,” Rhaenys cried.

“You will be just fine, sunshine.”

Daenerys was yelling for the healers as Aegon and Jon held the other Harpy on his knees.

“Don’t speak like that,” she whispered. “I need you.”

Y/N wanted to say something, wanted to say that she knew Rhaenys and her brothers and aunt would be fine—they would shape the world into a better place with Oberyn, Ellaria, and Willas at their side. She knew because she had seen it—that maybe a bit of the old magic had finally stirred in her foreigner blood. But her blood was currently filling her mouth and her world went dark.

She remembered very little from her time under the healer’s hands. Pain, the smell of Milk of the Poppy, someone was crying. And then nothing. Nothing.

Nothing until a warm, soft hand gently cradled her cheek. “I will wait,” someone whispered. “I have waited years, I can wait a few moons longer.”

But she woke, fully, as soon as she could and was told that her movements would be stilted and painful for some time.

Willas was at her side when her eyes opened, clear for the first time in weeks even if her brain did still feel fogged with the Milk of the Poppy. “It is good to see your beautiful eyes again, my lady. We have all missed you.” She spotted Balerion at the foot of the featherbed, looking more content to be in her presence than he had ever been before.

Y/N reached out and scratched behind Balerion's ears before she touched Willas' hand and watched his shoulders sag, as if he had been carrying some unseen weight across his back and had finally been relieved of it. “I mean this in the best way, my lord. But you look as if you have not rested in weeks.”

Willas huffed. “I have not. Most of us have not. We have been taking shifts to be at your side. The healers have said it would be best to keep an eye on you. Lady Ellaria just left, she has been the most dutiful to be at your bedside beside Her Grace, Rhaenys. Oberyn has been diligent in making sure your wrappings were changed.” He squeezed at her hand. “Do I truly look so unwell?”

Y/N smiled, feeling her dry lips crack with the motion. “Still handsome. As always, my lord.”

“Please, call me Willas.”

“We are alone, I suppose it could be appropriate-”

“Always, please, simply call me Willas. We have known each other long enough. Willas. I am Willas just as you are my Y/N.”

“My Willas.” She liked the sound of it. She liked it even more when his cheeks once again bloomed a pretty pink. “Tell me, my Willas, what have I missed since I have come to this bed?”

Apparently she had missed quite a bit.

Yunkai and Meereen had both fallen under the weight of the combined armies of the Unsullied, trained Freedmen, and the Second Sons—and bolstered by the revolts Aegon and Grey Worm had started by slipping into the cities under the cover of darkness to speak to anyone who would listen. Daenerys had united almost all of the Dothraki under a single khalasar and had been named the Great Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, commanding a group of Dothraki the world had never seen. Ser Jorah had been sent away after it had been discovered that he had been sending information to King Robert about the movements of Daenerys and Viserys and had been the reason assassins had been able to track them across Essos. Norvos and Qohor had freed their slaves without the threat of dragons—both cities cited the coming of dragons and magic and prophecy (but Y/N hypothesized that the Dothraki might have ‘helped’ their decision). It was all very…strange. Whispers from the red priests and priestess of the Red God of R’hllor, the Lord of Light, were spreading through all of western Essos, calling the four The Princes who were Promised. Azor Ahai, a prophesized hero. And Oberyn had contracted his old sellsword company, the Second Sons, bringing them under his employ to help bolster their forces. That was where he had gone, apparently he had returned only a few moments after Y/N had been carted off to the healers. Blood was still covering the kitchen when he had come in.

“I have only seen him so distressed once before,” Willas said, still holding her hand.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Lady Ellaria, after bringing little Loreza into the world, she kept…bleeding. And Loreza was called ‘sickly’ and ‘weak.’ The maesters told him to expect to lose them both before the sun went down. I have never seen a man so in love and so enraged. He raged at the world. Pleaded with the gods, cursed them. Oberyn threw the maesters out of the palace and sent for a healer from the Orphans of the Greenblood, an elder wise woman who kept the old gods of the Rhoynar. And she came. When the moon rose, Ellaria was holding little Loreza to her breast and she was smiling.” His thumb drew small circles on the back of her hand. “He only smiled again when he kissed them, moon high in the sky and with river water on his skin.” He sighed and a small smile pushed up his lips. “And then he saw you, covered in your own blood and about to welcome the Stranger with both arms. And I saw that desperate, raging man again.”

Y/N looked at him then, watched his untamed, dark curls fall over his forehead and she reached out with her free hand to gently push them back. Willas leaned into her touch and her heart leapt into throat when he turned his face just the slightest bit to slide his lips against the pulse of her wrist. “But I am here now. I am healing.”

“You are. But there is much more to do, is there not? And you will not stop. Not while your hatchlings, Aegon, Rhaenys, Jon, and Daenerys, still need you.” His grip tightened on her hand just a moment. “You will not stop,” he repeated.

“You know I cannot.”

“Then I will be beside you until this is finished.” He brought their joined hands up to his mouth and he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “And I still have more to tell you.”

The declarations of war from Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, and Pentos were more of what she was expecting. The might of Braavos and the few war ships little Lorath had were pledged to the Martells’ and Targaryens’ cause.

War had come to Essos again.

Y/N supposed she should not have been surprised that a few hundred people decided to leave the Bay and follow them toward the Free Cities. Leaving a city in search of a better life was something she had done, many times over.

Volantis had fallen, surrendered and another city had been added to the growing empire. Like in Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, they had settled in the city and weeded out possible uprisings and subterfuge while redistributing the former masters’ wealth and resources to those who deserved it.

When they continued on, part of their army was left to help protect them and help the new council of Freedmen who had pledged loyalty to Rhaenys, Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys.

But before they moved on toward the Free Cities, who were already warring with Braavos and a few battalions sent by Qohor and Norvos, they stopped, once again, at Chroyane.

“I have never seen anything more beautiful,” Oberyn said, a large smile splitting his face. “Even in ruin, she is magnificent.”

The two littlest of the Sand Snakes shrieked at the sight and all but leapt from their horse and into the clear river water. Ellaria laughed as she watched them before tying up her skirt to follow suit.

It was a welcome reprieve. Y/N’s scars ached when she moved too quickly sometimes and the constant jostling of her mare sometimes only made it worse. It felt good to dip her feet into the cooled waters and listen to the children laugh and splash in the river. Balerion once again watched one of the giant turtles with calculating eyes as he let the sun warm his black fur.

Oberyn settled at Y/N’s side on the bank of the river and watched the sun set in a quiet companionship. “I never thought I would see this. I never thought the sun would shine on this part of the world again. And here it is, as beautiful as ever.”

“It is almost as if the Mother Rhoyne was simply waiting for them,” Y/N said, tilting her head just so to indicated Rhaenys and Aegon who were now splashing around with Ellaria and her daughters, dodging Tyene and Nymeria’s hands as they tried to dunk them into the slow moving waves.

The four dragons trilled above them in the crystal blue sky, as content as their bonded.

Oberyn’s roughened, warm hand settled over hers on the bank. Without a word, he leaned into her and pressed a slow kiss against the side of her neck but she felt him smile against her skin as she shivered. “You are magnificent, little shark. I owe you, my family owes you a great debt.”

“I am owed nothing. I only want to see them grow and succeed. I love them.”

“And they love you,” Oberyn said as he sat back to look at her, smile at her in the sun. “My family loves you. I love you.”

Her heart stuttered. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is. You have made it easy.”

Y/N dropped her chin to her chest, hiding her smile before Oberyn’s finger hooked under her chin and he kissed her briefly.

“Papa!” Dorea called out. “Come play with us!”

Y/N drew back to see his daughters waving him forward, all of them positively drenched. “Go,” Y/N said with a laugh. “You are being summoned.”

Oberyn kissed her cheek before rising and then making a show of running and jumping into the river near them, splashing them all in one motion.

Y/N roared with laughter at the scene but quickly stood when she saw Nymeria and Ellaria turn their gazes to her, hands cupped with water and ready to splash. “Not today!” Y/N stumbled to her feet and managed to evade most of the aimed water as she laughed.

She walked barefoot through the ruins and over the riverbank, seeing their traveling party all partaking in the clean water and cool air. For a moment, there was peace. She spotted Missandei and Grey Worm quietly speaking on the broken stone of a palace, their feet in the water. Irri and Jhiqui were happily watering their horses further downstream while a few other members of the khalasar were racing their mounts through the tall, green grass. Daenerys and Jon were both pulling more weapons from the muck at the opposite bank and handing them off to whomever was by.

But it was Willas, sitting a little further away from the river, which caught her eye. He was cross-legged on the green grass, fiddling with something on his lap while his cane was settled beside him. The sun was shining on his dark hair, curls once again a bit mussed.

“What are you making?”

“A crown,” Willas said, cheeks once again blooming with color as she sat beside him. “My little sister taught me how to do it a few years ago. We would sit in the fields around Highgarden and pluck wildflowers to string together. Hers were always much more polished than mine.”

Y/N leaned a little closer to see that while it might not have been perfectly braided, it was still tightly woven and the flowers were in full bloom. “I think yours is well done, Willas. Will you teach me?”

Y/N laughed as Willas dropped the haphazard crown of white blooms onto her head and it nearly fell over her eyes. “I will let you have mine,” he said, but he did tried to teach her—until Y/N’s indelicate fingers ruined her third crown and she gave up, throwing herself back into the soft grass with a laugh. She reached up for a moment and grabbed the back of Willas’ tunic, pulling him down beside her.

They spoke for a little bit, of magic, of Highgarden, of their adventures in the Bay—now affectionately and rightly dubbed Dragon’s Bay. It was easy.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Y/N hummed at the question, mulling the answers in her mind. “I have lived and crossed the Narrow Sea, the Summer Sea, too. I have tasted and tested the Jade Sea. The Shivering Sea holds no value to me and that only leaves…”

“The Sunset Sea.” Willas nodded. She might have noticed a bit of pink touch his cheeks but she did not mention it. “The Mander, the river in the Reach, rushes by Highgarden and empties into the Sunset Sea.” He cleared his throat. “I could… House Tyrell has barges which sail that route easily. I would be happy to make sure you see your wish fulfilled.”

Y/N smiled and shook her head as she turned in the grass to look at him. “You are far too kind, Lord Willas. But what of you? Where would you go?”

The pink was raging on his cheeks now. “I would wish to only be at your side.”

Y/N felt her next breath stall in her throat and she looked at him, his cheeks still filled with pink but his blue eyes were so earnest—they had always been so lovely. “I suppose I do provide a bit of adventure.”

“You provide much more than that. I promise you.”

She wanted to say something. She wanted to say that he provided so much more than anything she could have hoped for but, it seemed that fate had other plans. “Y/N!”

She sat up from the grass to see Daenerys and a still-damp Rhaenys waving her over. The ground shook as both Drogon and Vēzos landed. They made quite a pair, the black and the yellow. “What is it, my loves?”

“We are taking them up to test their wings with riders again.” It had been a new practice, apparently, for all four of them to take their dragons to flight. They were surely large enough for it now.

Daenerys quickly climbed onto Drogon’s back and Rhaenys did the same.

“Come with me,” Rhaenys said, extending a hand toward Y/N. “Fly.”

Without thought, Y/N took Rhaenys’ hand and let her pull her up onto Vēzos’ back. And then, with a rumble, they were taking to the sky, the cool air whipping over her skin as she held, probably too tightly, to the spikes along the dragon’s back. But she listened to Rhaenys laugh and saw Daenerys smile and her momentary fear vanished. They were happy.

And she was flying.

When they landed, a small group of Freedmen were waiting for them and asked for an audience with Rhaenys which she quickly agreed to, always willing to hear anything her subjects would bring to her.

“Your Grace,” one man said, a timid smile on his face. “It would be a great honor if we could rebuild the palace for you and your family. The city.”

Rhaenys shook her head as she reached out toward the man and gently took his rough hands. “Your life is your own. You do not need to rebuild the city simply because I find it lovely.”

The man ducked his head, smile growing. “We know it is not an order you would give, Your Grace. We have made a…” he frowned, searching for the word, “council, as you have in Astapor and Yunkai and Meereen. And we want to stay here, rebuild. The soil is fertile, the trade possibility is strong. We could build a home here, beautiful and strong like it once was.”

Y/N watched Rhaenys’ eyes fill with tears and she diverted her gaze, letting the young queen compose herself.

“And you truly believe that your families could be happy here? It could take years before it is fully rebuilt.”

The man nodded and looked at Rhaenys, his small smile growing. “It will be hard work, but I know it would be worth it, Your Grace. A new home for us, for your family.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she squeezed the man’s hands again. “Then it would be an honor.”

The Disputed Lands had been feuded over and razed and rebuilt over and over again since the Doom. Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr all laid claim to them and would war with the others over the fertile soil. But they now belonged to Rhaenys and her brothers and aunt.

Braavos and Lorath were making almost embarrassingly quick work of conquering the cities with the help of another set of sellsword companies from the north and east, and with the Dragons and their armies making war on them from the west and Y/N and Willas led a small fleet of ships outfitted with weapons salvaged from the Chroyane sailing from the South, it was finished within a few short moons.

The Sealord of Braavos met them just outside the high walls of Pentos, presenting them with the signed surrender of the magistrates and city prince—and a few extra ‘gifts.’ One was the head of Illyrio Mopatis. The next two were faces she barely recognized—and truly, she recognized their names more than their persons. Tyrion Lannister and Varys both had chains around their wrists but seemed pleased with the situation. “They say they want to swear loyalty to your dragon kings and queens.”

“Yes, well,” Y/N’s eyes dragged over the pair, distrusting. “Most do after they see dragonfire.” The fire still blazing behind the walls scented the air.

Y/N left her charges to speak politics with their ally and went to check on the dragons as they rested in the fields. The four had fought bravely, if not a little erratically. They were still getting used to battles and they were still young. They were fearsome though, and Y/N loved them as their riders did. The large creatures huffed in welcome as she neared and she patted their sides in hello.

Oberyn carefully walked toward them, knowing that the dragons recognized him but was still cautious. When they accepted his familiar scent, they either lowered their heads to rest again or nudged him once in greeting. “They are protective of you,” Oberyn said as he watched Y/N stroke at Drogon’s nose, content. “You may not be their bonded rider, but they know you just the same.”

“I think it is because their riders smell like me.”

Drogon huffed.

“He disagrees,” Oberyn said with a laugh. “They recognize you because they feel what their bonded riders feel.”

“I would not argue with a dragon,” Ellaria laughed as she joined them in the field. She reached out and stroked Rhaegal’s side. “They are calling for the Queenmaker,” she said as she watched Rhaegal’s wings stretch.

Y/N sighed. She had earned a few monikers during the conquest of western Essos. She had been called Queenmaker. The Sea Dragon. Preposterous names, truly. The four had given themselves their crowns, forged their own paths. She just made sure they had survived to this point. She did not make them. And she had no dragon of her own. But she answered to the monikers anyway. It was less of an argument. “What has happened now?”

Ellaria chuckled. “I do believe it is to settle a dispute between a few of your Corsairs.”

Y/N nodded and excused herself but was stopped when Ellaria grasped her wrist. She kissed her quickly with a smile. “Come back soon. It has been a long day.”

And Y/N quickly hurried off, a smile on her face.

They settled in Pentos. The throne that once belonged to the Prince of Pentos had been divided into four equal chairs, just as all the thrones of the cities they had conquered had been. The rooms were thankfully spacious and an entire room had been filled with the scrap Valyrian Steel they had taken from the ruins and mud of the Chroyane. It would provide food and protection for their new empire if spent correctly—and Willas was already making sure that food was being traded responsibly and fairly between the cities while the sellsword companies they had paid were continuing to be paid to keep their loyalty. And he was also mostly in charge of the ‘care’ of their two Westerosi guests. Tyrion and Varys had proven mostly useful with their knowledge about the political turmoil currently engulfing the Seven Kingdoms and bringing news of the “terrible” death of Tywin Lannister while also providing possible battle plans when they finally did make land for Rhaenys’ crown. But Y/N still did not like them.

But that was not her mission for the day (despite realizing how handsome Willas looked while poring over the parchment detailing food storage and trade routes in his chambers with a slumbering Balerion on his lap). No. Aegon’s ten-and-six nameday was nearly upon them and Y/N had the perfect present in mind. She had given a set of Valyrian Steel-tipped arrows and a dragonbone bow to Rhaenys for her ten-and-sixth nameday, and now it was Aegon’s turn. The stupid lion head pommel was not Valyrian steel so she had no problem seeing it hacked off and reworked. The smith was quick and skilled, easily melting the gold into a puddle to be reformed. She watched him work, perching on the rickety stool in the corner and talking with him as the smoke and steam from his work clouded the forge. He was a genial man, happy to tell his story and hear hers in return. “They are blessed to have you, the little kings and queens.”

Y/N laughed and shook her head. “No, no. I am the blessed. They have been the lights of my life.”

“You have no children?”

Y/N nearly choked on her breath at the blunt question. “N-no. I have been… They have been my children, I suppose.”

The smith nodded at that and then continued to work in silence, attaching the new pommel to the rest of the jeweled hilt. He made it look easy and handed over the sword, now topped with a sun. It was perfect—and finished just in time.

She presented it to him at the end of his favorite meal and laughed when he tried to hug her, still holding the blade out in front of him.

“Let me see it!” Oberyn said with a laugh and Aegon happily handed it over to his uncle who inspected it with a practiced eye. Y/N did not expect the laughter that bubbled out of Oberyn’s throat but it made her smile either way. “Did this have a lion’s head, little shark?”

Y/N nodded.

Oberyn handed the blade back over to Aegon with a flourish. “You are holding the Valyrian steel sword that House Lannister once wielded. I find it…poetic that you will now call it your own.”

“But it needs a name!” Jon said. “All good swords need a name.”

Aegon held the sword up as Rhaenys and Daenerys cheered alongside their family. “It shall be called Sunshard.”

Perhaps she could convince him to change it later or Jon would come up with a better name for the Valyrian Steel axe she had stowed away for his next nameday or the dagger she would give to Daenerys for hers. But for now, she let Aegon swing the sword around like he was a little boy in the training grounds again.

For now, they were happy.

When the celebration died down and they dispersed for the night, the taste of honeycakes and lemon still on their tongues, Y/N found herself surprised to find Daenerys and Rhaenys waiting for her in the small solar connected to her chambers.

“This is a surprise, my loves. How may I help you?”

Rhaenys reached out her hands for Y/N to take and squeezed them both three times with a smile as she pulled her down on the cushioned bench between them. “Today was a joyous day. One finally filled without war or training or bloodshed.”

“We have all fought hard for it,” Daenerys murmured.

“You were a child yourself when you took us with you to Essos. Where had your childhood gone? The court at the Red Keep. Running and hiding with three babes who were not yours through a foreign land.”

“I made that choice. And I would make it again-”

“I am asking you to make the choice to be happy. To let yourself have an adventure without worrying over us.”

“I will always worry over you.”

“Just as we worry over you. You have been our guiding hand, our fiercest protector and staunchest supporter. Our most loyal older sibling. You have loved us. We love you. And we want you to be happy.”

Y/N turned to Daenerys as if that would provide some sort of answer. “Are you asking me to leave your side?”

“Never!” Both Rhaenys and Daenerys shouted.

“We will never send you away. But, we want you to know that if you are called to someone’s side, we want you to be happy.”

“What has brought this on? Have I said something?” The words caught in her throat but Rhaenys simply squeezed her hands again. One two three.

“No. But we have realized that you have set aside everything for us. And we simply want you to be happy.”

They each leaned forward and kissed her on the cheeks. The three spoke for a little longer, calming Y/N’s strange fear of being sent away, before they excused themselves with matching yawns. But Y/N could not sleep. Not with that strange revelation singing in her ears.

She pulled on her dressing gown and padded down to the gardens of the palace. She could hear the sea and it was a small comfort. But she turned at the familiar tap of a cane against stone and smiled as Willas settled beside her.

“You could not sleep either?”

He shook his head, curls sliding against his ears. “I suppose I am now accustomed to a little more excitement during the day to tire me out.”

Y/N chuckled and angled her head up to look at the glittering stars. “But it was a good day. I can sleep late tomorrow.”

The pair was quiet for a moment, the comfortable silence between them only broken by the inconsistent chittering of a bird or the sea crashing against the city walls.

“When this is over, will you rest?”

Y/N frowned at the question and turned to look at him. “Rest?”

“When the little hatchlings are settled in their kingdoms and safe. Where will you be?”

“I…” She tried to find the words she needed but she did not know the answer.

Willas reached out and gently grasped her hand. “You deserve rest too, my lady.” He looked at her, blue eyes shining and a familiar pink tint to his cheeks.

The quiet moment was cut short by a violent scream—one Y/N knew too well. She leapt to her feet and dashed back into the palace. Y/N pushed through the hall and burst into Rhaenys’ room to see her shivering on her bed. “Oh, my sunshine.”

Rhaenys reached out for her and Y/N instantly wrapped her arms around her as they sunk into the plush featherbed. “They have come again,” she whispered. “The cold. The ice. The terrible dead men. They are haunting me again.” Rhaenys reached up and played with the sun pendant. And then she was a little girl again and Y/N was reading her a story about talking turtles to help her sleep. “We have to go back to Westeros,” Rhaenys said, voice soft but steady. “They are coming.”

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