#holding his wife's hand to comfort her about her sisters' murder

[theladyofbloodshed]

I want it to be chaos ngl. People thought Eris is Beron son when LoA and Helion have a hell of their own escapadies when LoA first got engaged to Beron.

And people thought Lucien is Helion son since he is born short of 9 month. With eris viper like toubge and sweet innocent lucient, imagine the chaos when Helion figured out Eris. Eris vanserra that he hated so much is his first born son.

Can you imagine? Compare to Lucien, Eris is older and have experienced the most abused from Beron since he is um, the first born. Lucien, at least got out of the Autumn Court.

But Eris as Helion firstborn? I live for the drama. I want Helion Thigh-Cleaver to suffer from the truth of Eris as his son. Helion wailed, cried, just suffer basically.

The drama 🫠😘

Hear me out though:

She meets Helion at a ball (when courts presumably mingled)

Beron asks LoA to marry him

She waits a year before she marries Beron (because women have autonomy in prythian lmao)

How long is a fae pregnancy?? about 10 months - almost a year - but LoA seems to be "fertile" considering she's had 7 kids when it's difficult for high fae

Helion only became high lord utm because the previous high lord was killed which means he was not super powerful when they met - and both of them were likely to be in their 20s

If LoA was pregnant with Helion's baby but betrothed to Beron, he could enact the blood duel and kill Helion quite easily

What's the best option to protect Helion, herself, AND her unborn child?

Get married to Beron and raise the child as his

[patheticdarling]

Her Sacrifice

Summary: The assassins had no such luck finding Prince Aemond but what were they to do when they stumbled upon the beloved wife of King Aegon instead? Her belly swollen with his heir.

Warnings: Blood & Cheese/murder/gore & blood/cursing/threats/blades/pregnancy/kidnapping/funeral/incest (reader is helaena's older twin)

Word Count: 2236

"The other lords will be accompanying me for a drink in the Throne Room. Shall you join us, Wife?" Aegon asked, a slightly eager smile on his face, anticipating your agreement.

You sighed as you began to undo the braids in your hair, "The hour is late, Husband. I must rest."

Aegon pouted, "Just a cup! We've attended to our royal duties all day, have we not earned a bit of respite?"

"Respite is what I shall get with a good night's sleep. Not drinking until sunrise with you and your comrades," you teased. You stood from seat at your vanity, walking over and placing Aegon's hand on your growing bump, "Besides, do you not wish for our babe to be born healthy? So that they may grow into formidable dragon riders like their parents."

He smiled softly at your belly before kissing it sweetly, "You make a good point, my dear. Mayhaps I should stay in with you."

You shook your head, smiling down at him, "Do not let me stop your fun. You are right. The King deserves his respite. Besides there may not be many more nights where we get to enjoy ourselves," motioning to your bump.

"You are going to make a wonderful mother," Aegon stood from his seat, "I shall allow you to enjoy your last moments of rest then." He planted a soft kiss on your lips, "I love you, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "I love you, Aegon."

Aegon kissed you once more before giving your belly a playful squeeze and disappearing from your chambers. You summoned one of your ladies to help you finish getting ready for bed. Thanking her as you got yourself comfortable between the silk sheets of you and Aegon's bed. Finally bidding her good night as she blew out most of the candles, leaving a few on for Aegon's drunken return.

You could not be sure of the hour when you heard your chamber doors creak open followed by the shuffling of feet. You did not even bother opening your eyes, assuming you'd feel the bed indent as Aegon stumbled towards it.

"Back so soon?" you teased, "I was only being half serious about the sunset-"

Suddenly, a large hand clamped over your mouth. Your eyes shot open as two men loomed over you. You screamed and panicked as the larger man used his other arm to keep you pinned to the bed.

"Quiet!" the smaller man pulled a blade out, pressing it to your throat, "Unless you want me to bleed you like a pig."

You nodded, terrified of what these men could do, "W-Who are you? What do you want?"

"Its not our wants you should be concerned with, Your Grace."

"Who sent you? What do y-you want from me?" your voice shook.

"A life is owed. It wasn't supposed to be you. A son for a son we were told," the smaller man shrugged, "But it seems Prince Aemond isn't in the castle tonight."

Of course, you thought. This was about Lucerys. Your younger brother had taken the boy's life and that was a deed that could not go unpunished. You knew how deeply your eldest sister loved all of her children. The loss of one would be devastating. Taking Aemond's life made sense. But taking yours? And the life of your unborn child? That was not in Rhaenyra's nature. This was plotted by someone far more sinister and dark.

"My uncle sent you, didn't he?" you spoke up. They both sent stares to the other, "Daemon Targaryen. He sent you to kill one of us."

The large man scoffed, "Aren't you a smart one?"

"Shame those smarts won't do you any good now, will they?" the smaller one mocked.

"Please," you tried to beg, "Do not do this. No good will-" The large hand came down on your mouth again.

"That's enough," he grunted before turning back to the smaller man, "I'll hold her down and you cut."

Your blood ran cold at his words. Not only were they going to kill you but they were going to tortuously cut out your unborn child. They both yanked you further down the bed until you were flat on your back. You tried to kick, scream, bite, thrash as much as you could but the man proved to have almost inhuman strength. The smaller man raised his blade, that same sadistic grin plastered on his face before he began to dig it into the lower part of your abdomen.

White hot pain seared through your body as he continued to slice into you. Your vision was blurred with tears and you could have sworn your throat was raw from your cries. Though the pain was so intense that you could not process the sounds that might have been leaving you. Warm blood pooled all around you, the once ivory sheets now a deep crimson. One last gasp left you as they pulled your child from your body.

Suddenly you had remembered your mother telling you about the pains of childbirth when you first married Aegon and all anyone could talk about was you producing his heirs. She had a rather negative approach that utterly terrified you. So, you decided to find comfort in Rhaenyra's advice instead.

"I will not withhold the truth from you, it truly is the most excruciating pain a woman must go through."

You groaned, "That is not what I had wished to hear, Sister."

"You did not let me finish. The process is hard, yes. And you will feel the urge to curse the Gods or even your husband and swear to never bear anymore children," you both laughed, "But the moment you hear those sweet cries and your babe is placed upon your chest, the pain is forgotten. And nothing has ever seemed so worth it. Then you will know, right then and there, that you would do it all over again if it meant you could finally find that purest form of love."

And yet, you would never discover that beautiful feeling your sister had painted so clearly. The room was almost eerily silent besides the dripping of blood onto the stone floor.

"What do you know?" the man panted as he held your lifeless infant, "A son. Congratulations, my Queen."

You could not speak as you felt your body numb itself. Tears falling with no cries as they stuffed your son's body into a sack. It was as if you could feel your heart shatter. The men finished their sinister act before fleeing through a secret passageway. You tried little to fight the heaviness in your eyes. Perhaps this was all a horrible dream and if you shut your eyes, you'd open them to find yourself in bed with Aegon's arms wrapped securely around your belly. The last thing you could muster was a small smile at the sentimental image as your vision faded out completely.

"Sister?" Helaena called out into your bed chamber, "I did not wish to wake you but Aegon is being so loud and I cannot sleep with him-" Her voice caught in her throat at the sight of your mangled body lying on the bed. Your figure lifeless and your eyes vacant as you stared at the canopy. She approached your body, a shaky hand reaching out to touch your face to be met with utter stillness. Helaena backed out of the room slowly, tears flowing down her cheeks before sprinting to find some sort of help. As if anyone could undo what had already been done.

"I-I don't know what happened. I came in and she...she was..." Helaena's voice cracked with sobs as various people filed into the royal bed chamber; the Kingsguard, the Dowager Queen, the Hand, and lastly, your husband.

They all stopped at the sight before them, their eyes welling with tears and their stomachs churning. The Dowager Queen let out a heavy sob as all their attention turned to the King. Aegon approached your body cautiously.

He fell to his knees, his hands cradling your bloodied face as he sobbed, "My wife, my dearest-"

Nobody dared say a word as Aegon mourned over you. His sobs heavy with grief as he called out your name over and over again. The Queen Mother clutching Helaena's arm as they cried with him. The Kingsguard hanging their heads low in shame at their failure to protect their Queen. Otto Hightower, known to be quick with his word, said nothing.

The council meeting that followed was one full of dread and grief. Most of the council mourned, the Hand schemed, and the King could do not but curse the Gods and swear revenge.

"Your Grace, perhaps we should speak of the funeral arrangements for the Queen-"

"No," Aegon was quick to stop the Hand, who raised a brow at his grandson's denial, "I will not have my wife's body dragged through the streets like a dog!"

"Not dragged, honored!" Otto corrected him before lowering his tone as he spoke to the King, "Y/N was my granddaughter and I loved her. She deserves the funeral of a Targaryen princess, a Targaryen queen. The small folk wish to mourn their Queen and the heir she carried. And they need to know who is responsible for this."

Aegon's face twisted in disbelief, "How could they not already know?! Who else would do this save the bitch queen of bastards?!"

"We must know for certain, Your Grace," Lord Jasper suggested, "If it was not your sister, this may prove to be an even bigger threat to the crown, to you, my King."

Aegon scoffed, "I do not care what threatens me. My wife is dead. And my child," he stifled a sob, "That cunt did this, I know it. Her and her kingdom of traitorous bastards will burn for it."

Before anyone could speak, the doors of the council chamber opened as Lord Larys entered. He bowed meekly as all eyes turned to him.

"My lords, Your Grace," he greeted the council.

All stood still, "State your purpose, Lord Larys," the Hand spoke.

"We have apprehended one of the assailants. A gold cloak, known for his brutal nature. The guards caught him fleeing the Gate of Gods. He carried the child's body in a sack."

The King hardly wasted any time, stomping over to the doors, "I shall kill him myself."

"We might retrieve further information about who is to blame for this tragedy after questioning," Ser Criston stopped Aegon from leaving as Otto spoke, "I trust in your skill set, Lord Larys."

The Strong Lord bowed before exiting the room. All eyes turned once again to the King and his Hand.

"We will hold the service for both the child and mother-"

"I said no," Aegon grunted, "My wife and child will not be put on display for the Realm."

"Your Grace, we might use this to our advantage in the war you wish to march into. Your people need to know the depravity that Rhaenyra is capable of. The great houses of Westeros will see that she is not fit to rule given her cruel nature. They will flock to your side and with them, their armies and bannermen."

Aegon continued to shake his head. He could not just let them see you or your child like that. They did not deserve it.

"Mother," he turned to the Dowager Queen for support.

Alicent approached Aegon's chair, "The Hand sets on a difficult path, my darling, but it might be the right one."

The King could not muster anymore fight, "Have the Silent Sisters prepare the Queen and child for their journey. Behind them will be Princess Helaena and the Queen Mother."

"No, I do not wish to be a spectacle," Alicent argued but her father would not hear it.

Your husband visited your body as the Silent Sisters began to prepare it. They had cleaned the mess and dressed you in one of your favorite dresses, the emerald color complimenting your skin and hair.

"Your Grace, it is ill-fated to look upon the face of death," Maester Orwyle warned.

"That is not the face of death, Maester. That is my wife," Aegon spoke, "Leave me with her."

Maester Orwyle and the Silent Sisters bowed before leaving the King with your body. He softly stroked the hair from your face as he broke into sobs once again.

"I am so sorry, my love," he cried, "I-I should have been there to protect you. And our son." Maester Orwyle had informed His Grace that the child you carried was a prince, a perfect heir, "You truly would have been the most wonderful mother. You were already a perfect wife and Queen. Motherhood would have come naturally."

Aegon recounted how well you did with Rhaenyra's last two babies, the ones she had with his uncle Daemon. As much as he did not care for his half-sister, he knew you did. Always quick to defend her, even against your own family. So, he was forced to ask himself, how could she do this to you? To your child?

"They will pay for what they have done," your husband muttered to you, "I will win this war. I will win it for our child. I will win it for you. With fire and blood. Your sacrifice will not be for naught, my Queen."

[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt. 12)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Matron!Minthara x Wife!reader

CW: murder, nsfw, suggestive scenes

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight part nine part ten part eleven part thirteen

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The moment between you and Minthara was broken by a familiar, exasperated voice.

“Oh, this is all very sweet,” Lesaonar drawled, stepping into view with a languid stretch. “But can we please go before the stench of decaying duergar seeps into my favorite hunting doublet? I’ll never get it out.”

A chuckle escaped your lips, the absurdity of the moment hitting you just as the tension between you and Minthara began to melt away. Minthara sighed but released you from her tender hold, clearly exasperated by Lesaonar’s timing, though she wasn’t entirely surprised.

The group began their journey back through the tangled web of destruction you had left in your wake. As you passed the carnage—bodies twisted, draped in spider silk, creatures that had once roamed freely now reduced to mere remnants of their former selves—you couldn’t help but look at it with a mix of fascination and self-awe. The power you had unleashed still thrummed beneath your skin, reminding you of your strength, of the raw force that lived within you.

Behind you, Lesaonar was grumbling the entire way, his voice a constant stream of complaints about the mess, the dirt, and, most importantly, the state of his doublet. When the gates to House Baenre came into view, his complaining intensified until he was practically crying with relief.

“Oh, blessed gates of House Baenre! I thought I’d never see you again!” Lesaonar proclaimed dramatically, almost kissing the ground as his spider finally scuttled through the entrance.

Minthara muttered just loud enough for you to hear, her voice dry, “I had to put up with this the entire time.”

It did make you feel better—slightly. You smiled at her, shaking your head in amusement.

But as soon as they reached the courtyard, a surprising sight awaited them: Melinoe, standing near the entrance, her arms crossed, looking—of all things—relieved. Her eyes scanned the party, locking onto Lesaonar, and the moment his feet touched the ground, she was already rushing to him. Before Lesaonar could utter another word, she pulled him into an embrace and kissed him fiercely, her hands running over him as if making sure he was unharmed.

“You’re alright?” she demanded, her tone a mix of relief and frustration and Lesaonar could only nod with a flustered smile, this was a stark opposite of the brutal apathy he had suffered from her not even a day ago. Melinoe scowled over at Minthara, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “How could you take him out there? It’s dangerous for him!”

Lesaonar, ever the opportunist, leaned into her protectively as if he’d barely escaped a harrowing ordeal. “Oh, yes, my love! It was horrible! Filthy, stinking duergar everywhere. You wouldn’t believe what I had to endure. What the Matron put me through!”

Melinoe shot another fierce glare at Minthara, who could only roll her eyes at the dramatics. You chuckled softly, the scene playing out in front of you like a familiar performance. Lesaonar, ever the child when it suited him, was practically telling tales like a little boy trying to get his sister in trouble.

“Lesaonar was the last one to see her,” Minthara said with a wry smirk, her hands resting on her hips. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Melinoe didn’t look convinced, her protective hold on Lesaonar tightening. “Still. Next time, leave him at home.”

Lesaonar grinned smugly, fully enjoying the attention and the comfort of Melinoe’s arms. You shot him an amused glance before turning to Minthara, gesturing for her to follow you as you made your way toward Lythaera’s room.

The familiar halls of House Baenre seemed calmer now, the weight of your previous rage slowly dissipating. Minthara kept close by your side, her hand ghosting at the small of your back, almost as if she was too scared to smother you but terrified that if she let go, you would slip away again.

When you finally reached Lythaera’s room, you pushed open the door gently. Inside, your daughter slept peacefully, her small figure bundled in blankets. The sight of her brought a warmth to your heart that even the wildest of magic couldn’t compare to.

Verona, the head of the house’s personal guard, stood sentinel beside the crib. Upon seeing you and Minthara, she inclined her head respectfully.

“Mistress,” she said in her cool, professional tone, though there was a hint of relief in her eyes at your return.

You walked over to Lythaera’s crib, cooing softly as you looked down at her tiny, delicate features. She stirred slightly in her sleep, her small hand twitching as if reaching for something in her dream. You turned to Verona, offering her a nod of gratitude. “Thank you, Verona. You are dismissed.”

Verona hesitated for a moment but nodded and left the room silently, leaving just you, Minthara, and your sleeping daughter.

Minthara stood back, watching you with an intensity that sent a small flutter through your chest. There was something about the way she looked at you now—like she couldn’t believe you were really here, that she had you back. Her usual armor of cold indifference was gone, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

“You can come closer, you know,” you said softly, not taking your eyes off Lythaera.

Minthara moved closer, standing beside you. She hesitated for a moment, unsure, before gently wrapping her arms around your waist, holding you with a tenderness that made your heart ache. You could feel her breath on your neck, and when you glanced at her, there was a softness in her eyes you hadn’t seen in a long time.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, the weight of the day’s events fading as you basked in the peace of this quiet moment. You leaned into Minthara’s embrace, feeling her arms tighten around you protectively.

“You were right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I was angry… but I didn’t mean to hurt you, either. I… just lost myself.”

Minthara pressed a kiss to your temple, her voice low and filled with sincerity. “We’ll figure it out, together.”

You turned in her arms, resting your forehead against hers as you pulled her into a gentle embrace. The two of you stood there in the quiet, with only the sound of Lythaera’s soft breathing in the background. And for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were home.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Deciding that you were all in need of some time together, you, Minthara, and little Lythaera sat together. The room was peaceful, filled with the quiet sounds of Lythaera’s laughter as she played, her small hands guiding her toys through an elaborate fantasy world only she could understand. You rested against Minthara, her arm draped around your shoulders, while your hand absentmindedly stroked your growing belly.

It wasn’t long before the conversation drifted back to the days when you had been pregnant with Lythaera. You turned to Minthara, a fond smile curling your lips.

“I’ll never forget the look on your face when I told you about Lythaera,” you teased, recalling the memory that had stayed with you all this time.

Minthara smirked but her eyes softened with warmth. “I remember,” she replied. “You took me by surprise… I wasn’t expecting it, not like that.”

“You froze,” you added with a soft laugh. “I thought you might faint. You didn’t know what to do with yourself.”

Minthara’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I was just… overwhelmed,” she admitted. “I hadn’t imagined being a mother, not then. But the moment you told me, I knew I’d do anything to protect you and our child.”

You leaned in to press a soft kiss to her cheek, warmth spreading in your chest as you recalled those early days of uncertainty and excitement.

“And now look at us,” you said, a hand on your stomach, “Another one on the way.”

Minthara chuckled, her fingers tracing gentle circles on your back. “Yes… though let’s hope this one doesn’t kick as much as Lythaera did. I don't think I could deal with those sleepless nights again.”

"Sleepless nights? I was the one she was kicking!"

"Yes and who did you wake up to complain about it to?" Minthara raised a brow at you and you chuckled playfully, leaning further into her embrace.

As you and Minthara continued to sit together, basking in the soft warmth of your little family moment, Lythaera babbled excitedly, her tiny fingers grabbing one of her toys, a small carved wooden figure, and holding it up proudly for both of you to see.

“Red!” she proclaimed, her eyes wide with the thrill of getting the color right. “Red, Mama!”

You smiled, your heart swelling with pride as you watched her. “That’s right, sweetheart. The toy is red,” you encouraged, gently stroking her soft hair.

“Red… and blue!” she continued, holding up another toy, a small figure painted in dark blue hues. Her sentences were still broken, her words sometimes stumbling, but it was clear how much she was trying.

“Very good, my love,” Minthara chimed in, her tone impressed. She watched Lythaera with pride gleaming in her eyes. “You’re learning so quickly.”

Lythaera’s grin widened, as if the praise from both of you made her light up from the inside. “Mama… Momma! Red… blue… and green!”

You giggled softly as she pointed at her toys, rattling off colors with growing confidence. Each correct one made her beam, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Minthara’s gaze remained fixed on her daughter, the love and pride evident in every glance.

“I think she gets this from her uncle Lesaonar,” Minthara remarked with a chuckle, her lips quirking into a smirk.

You tilted your head at her with a teasing smile. “Lesaonar? Why him?”

Minthara shifted slightly, her hand lingering on your back as she spoke.

“Because he never shuts up,” she said with a playful grin, eyes sparkling with mischief. “The child is always babbling—just like him.”

You laughed, shaking your head fondly. “I suppose he does talk quite a bit. He’ll be thrilled to know you’ve compared him to a toddler.”

Minthara chuckled, pulling you closer to her side as the evening wore on. Lythaera was still chattering happily to herself, now playing with her toys in earnest, weaving together a little story in her imagination. Every once in a while, she would glance up to check if both of you were still watching, and of course, you were—hanging on her every word as though she were weaving the grandest of tales.

“She’s really growing up,” Minthara murmured, her voice softened by the quiet awe that came with watching your child flourish.

You nodded, feeling the same mixture of pride and wonder. “She really is… and her speech is coming along so well.”

Minthara’s hand slid from your back to your belly, her touch lingering there, gentle yet possessive.

The two of you watched Lythaera as she continued to play, her energy eventually winding down as the evening wore on. When it came time to feed her, you did so together, the simple act filling the air with warmth and contentment. Lythaera’s tiny hands rested on yours as she ate, her eyes growing heavy with sleep.

Once she was finished, you gently tucked her into bed, smoothing the blankets over her small form as she settled in. You kissed her forehead, whispering a soft goodnight, and watched as her eyelids fluttered closed.

Minthara, standing beside you, placed a hand on your shoulder as you stood up from Lythaera’s crib.

“You’re so good with her,” she murmured, her voice low and appreciative.

You turned to her, smiling softly. “We’re both good with her. She’s lucky to have us.”

Minthara stood beside you, her presence warm and familiar, yet something about her tonight felt different—more intense. As you leaned over to kiss Lythaera’s forehead, you felt Minthara’s hand brush lightly against the small of your back, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. It wasn’t an innocent touch, not the way her fingers grazed your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

You straightened, casting her a knowing glance. Her deep red eyes, usually so calculating, were softened with a yearning that spoke volumes without a single word. Her gaze traced the curves of your body, lingering on the gentle swell of your pregnant belly, and there was a hunger there—a deep, possessive desire that she made no attempt to hide.

It was unmistakable now—the way her fingers pressed just a bit harder into your waist, the way her lips hovered near your neck as you stood close to the bed. You could feel her breath against your skin, warm and teasing. Every movement, every glance she gave you, was filled with a raw need, one that she hadn’t expressed so clearly since the tension between you both after the argument.

“Minthara,” you whispered, teasingly, as you gave her a slight nudge with your shoulder. But you didn’t move away, allowing her closeness, letting her hand slide down your arm with a possessive grip.

She didn’t respond verbally, but the way her eyes darkened in the dim light told you everything. Her gaze spoke of hunger, of a need that had built up since your earlier confrontation. You had sensed this in her ever since that argument, ever since she realized just how deeply she feared losing you. Now, it simmered in the space between you, radiating off her in waves.

You turned, casting one last look at your sleeping daughter before guiding Minthara out of the room. But the moment you were in the corridor, she was on you—her hands sliding around your waist, her lips brushing the curve of your neck, her touch electrifying. It was possessive, yes, but also reverent, as if every part of you was something sacred to her. She didn’t push too far, not yet, but you could feel the urgency in her touch.

By the time you reached your shared chambers, Minthara’s patience had worn thin. The door had barely clicked shut before she was in front of you, her body pressing you back against the cool stone wall. Her lips found yours, a soft, worshipful kiss at first, but the desperation behind it quickly revealed itself. Her hands roamed your body, sliding over your shoulders, down your back, and finally resting on your growing bump with such tenderness it nearly made you melt.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her hands caressed your belly, the awe in her touch unmistakable. “So beautiful… carrying our child.”

You could hear the possessiveness in her voice, the way she almost growled the words as if to stake her claim. But there was adoration too, a worshipful reverence that made your heart race. She kissed along your collarbone, her breath hot and insistent against your skin, each kiss more fervent than the last.

“I’ve missed you,” she murmured between kisses, her hands still worshipping the curve of your belly, her lips moving lower. “Let me show you how much.”

You smirked, though your breath hitched at the way her touch made you feel. You let her continue for a moment, reveling in her worship, but you weren’t going to make it easy for her.

“Minthara,” you said, your voice teasing as your fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her back gently. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Her eyes flared with heat as she looked up at you, her lips parted slightly, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. For a moment, she seemed lost, enraptured by the sight of you, but she quickly regained her composure.

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Oh, I’m just getting started,” she whispered, her voice low and filled with dark promise. Her hand moved from your bump to your hips, her grip firm but not forceful. She leaned in again, her lips brushing yours, teasing, her desire pouring into every soft caress.

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers tracing her jawline. “Then carry on,” you encouraged, leaning into her touch but still holding back, your own need growing but not willing to give in just yet.

Minthara growled softly at your teasing tone, but she didn’t rush. Instead, she took her time, savoring every touch, every kiss, as though she was trying to prove something—to show you just how much she adored you, how deeply she desired you, and how much she needed you after everything that had happened.

Her lips trailed down your neck, over the curve of your shoulder, as her hands continued to caress your body, every movement filled with worship and longing. When her hands returned to your belly, she rested them there, her eyes filled with awe as she looked up at you.

“You are everything to me,” she murmured, her voice soft and reverent, almost a prayer. “Our family… you… I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

You smiled down at her, your heart swelling at her words. The possessiveness, the desire—it was all born from love, from her fear of losing the family she had built with you. And as much as you teased her, you knew the truth. You needed her just as much.

But for now, you’d let her show you. You weren’t ready to give in yet, but you wanted to savor the way she worshipped you, to feel the depth of her adoration in every touch, every kiss. You leaned back, offering her a soft smile.

“Then keep going, Minthara,” you whispered, your voice a soft command. “Show me.”

Minthara’s touch held a reverence that felt like worship as she gently guided you down onto the bed, her hands tracing the delicate curves of your body with a slow, tender care that seemed almost like an apology woven into every movement.

“You’re breathtaking,” she whispered, her voice roughened with emotion. There was a depth to her tone that was rarely there, a vulnerability she normally kept locked away behind her icy resolve. The hand resting on your belly remained there, almost reverent, her fingers splayed as she gently traced the curves of your changing form. “I can’t believe I almost let all of this slip away. I can’t believe I was so blind…”

Her words trailed off as her gaze drifted over you, settling on each curve, each mark that pregnancy had brought to your form. You could see the hunger in her expression, but there was a tenderness there too, an almost painful adoration that struck something deep inside you. Her lips met your collarbone in a lingering kiss, then traveled lower, placing soft, deliberate kisses along the curve of your shoulder and down your arm. Her movements were patient, filled with a deliberate care that left your skin tingling in anticipation.

As her kisses continued down your body, her hand stayed fixed over your belly, a gentle, grounding presence. She placed her lips on your stomach, just above where your child grew, her eyes closing briefly, and you felt the faintest smile on her lips as she brushed them against your skin. There was something protective in her touch, as if she were making a silent vow to you both.

“Every change, every curve… it’s perfect,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath against your skin. She looked up at you, her ruby eyes blazing with emotion, but there was also a softness there that rarely broke through her strong exterior. “I want to see you grow even more, to watch you carry our child until you’re filled with them. You’re a vision… you always have been, but now…”

She trailed off, and you could feel her gaze drinking you in, her hand sliding around to cradle the curve of your waist with a fierce protectiveness. Her possessiveness was evident in every touch, in every kiss, in the way her hands moved over your skin as though she was trying to reclaim what she’d nearly lost to her own pride.

Your breath hitched as her lips traveled lower, tracing a path down to your hip, lingering to leave a mark that felt like a promise pressed into your skin. Her words came in a soft, reverent murmur, punctuated by the press of her lips on your skin. “How could I have been so foolish… to have ever taken someone as ethereal, as otherworldly as you for granted?”

The intimacy was palpable, an unspoken devotion radiating from her in waves as her hands continued to explore your body, her lips tracing across your skin with an attentiveness that left no inch neglected. It was as if she was on a pilgrimage, mapping out every curve and hollow with her lips and fingers, claiming you as her own with a kind of fierce reverence. She worshipped the growing life within you, the evidence of your bond, touching and kissing with a mixture of desire and adoration that left you feeling completely cherished.

Every brush of her lips, every caress, sent a shiver through you, the pleasure mounting with each tender movement, with each possessive kiss she pressed into your skin. You could sense her restraint, the way she held herself back, determined to give all of herself to you without demanding anything in return. Her fingers danced along your body, tracing delicate lines along your collarbone, trailing down to the curve of your hip, her lips following the path as though she was determined to memorize every inch of you.

“You deserve better… so much better than I’ve given you,” she whispered against your skin, her voice filled with an aching sincerity. “But I swear, I’m going to make it right. I’ll never let myself forget how much I need you… how much you mean to me.”

Her hands found their way back to your belly, her fingers tracing delicate circles, and the look in her eyes was one of pure reverence as she gazed down at the place where your child grew. There was a sense of awe in her expression, a reverence that made your heart swell. She looked at you as though you were something sacred, a goddess gracing her with your presence, and you could see the love in her gaze, raw and unfiltered.

When her lips found yours again, there was an urgency, a hunger that spoke of her need to prove to you everything she hadn’t managed to say before. The kiss was deep, filled with an intensity that took your breath away, her hands sliding up your sides, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. You could feel the love in every touch, the possessive tenderness that left no doubt as to how much she adored you.

Her mouth moved lower, her kisses trailing down your neck, her fingers tracing along your sides with a slow, deliberate care. She didn’t rush, savoring each moment, each taste of your skin, her movements filled with a depth of emotion that made your heart race. The pleasure built within you, a slow burn that made you ache for more, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh as her hands moved lower, her fingers tracing along the sensitive skin with a light, teasing touch.

“Let me make it up to you,” she whispered against your skin, her voice a low, fervent plea. “Let me show you just how much I adore you, how deeply I cherish every part of you.”

As she continued, her touch became more insistent, her lips trailing along the curve of your belly, down to your hip, leaving little marks of possession along the way. You felt yourself melting under her attention, your heart swelling with love and need as she continued to worship every inch of you with a kind of desperate reverence.

You tangled your fingers in her hair, pulling her closer as her touch sent waves of pleasure through you, and she responded with a soft growl, her hands moving to hold you firmly, anchoring you in her embrace. Her kisses became more fervent, each one a declaration of her love, her need for you, her worship of every part of you.

But just as you surrendered completely to her, a faint cry broke through the haze of intimacy. Lythaera. Her soft cries grew louder, and you felt Minthara tense, her possessive scowl returning as she looked towards the door. Her arms remained wrapped tightly around you, a reluctant look of jealousy crossing her face.

“Must you?” she muttered, her voice filled with thinly veiled frustration as Lythaera’s cries became more insistent. She held on to you for a lingering moment, her fingers tracing small circles on your skin as if she couldn’t bear to let go. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, brushing a hand against her cheek.

“I’ll go,” you murmured, a mischievous glint in your eye. “You’re… well, a bit messy, anyway.”

Minthara’s scowl deepened, and she made no attempt to hide her disappointment as she reluctantly released you. She watched you with a smoldering gaze, her eyes tracing the lines of your body with a mixture of longing and frustration as you slipped out of her embrace.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” she warned, her voice low and filled with desire as she watched you slip into a robe.

With a last, lingering kiss, you pulled away, casting her a smile as you turned to leave the room. Her possessive gaze followed you as you left, her hand reaching out to brush your arm as if reluctant to lose contact.

As you stepped into the corridor, Lythaera’s cries grew louder, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your heart swelling with love as you made your way to her room. Behind you, Minthara remained in bed, watching you disappear down the corridor with a mixture of longing and pride, a small, secret smile playing on her lips as she awaited your return.

You enter Lythaera’s small, dimly lit room, her soft cries tapering into quiet whimpers as she rubs her tired eyes. Her tiny hands reach out for you immediately, and you can feel the heat of her little fingers gripping tightly as you pull her close, holding her against your chest. She burrows into you, pressing her face into your shoulder, her voice muffled but unmistakably trembling as she begins to babble, her toddler’s speech tumbling out in broken, sleepy fragments.

“Bad… bad dream, Mama,” she murmurs, her voice hiccuping between breaths as she clings tightly to you. “Scary man… blue eyes… he… he tried to get me… Seladrareen”

“Oh, my little spiderling, you had a nightmare about the Seldarine?” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to her head. “There’s no scary man, no blue-eyed anything, that can ever get you. Not while I’m here. And you know what? No one is going to take you away. I’ll make sure of it, I promise.”

She pulls back, her big red teary eyes looking up at you, still filled with remnants of fear, but softened by trust in your words.

“Promise, Mama?” she whispers, her tiny hands clutching the front of your nightclothes as she searches your face for reassurance.

You smile, brushing a few strands of dark hair from her face. “I promise, my brave girl. No one is going to get past Mama. Or Momma, for that matter.”

At the mention of Minthara, Lythaera’s eyes light up, the ghost of her distress beginning to fade.

“Momma…” she whispers, clearly longing for her other mother’s comforting presence. You nod, stroking her back gently and carry her out of her room, making your way toward the warmth and security of your shared chambers.

As you enter, you find Minthara already stepping out from the bathroom, her hair damp and her usual sharp attire replaced by the softness of her night clothes, clearly taking your comment of her being 'messy' personally. Her eyes meet yours, and she immediately notices Lythaera in your arms, her eyebrows lifting with understanding and a glimmer of concern. She crosses the room swiftly, reaching out to take the little girl from you with a practiced gentleness that always surprises you.

“She had a nightmare,” you explain, watching as Minthara holds Lythaera close, brushing her lips over the top of her head. “It was about a man with scary blue eyes. She struggled to say the word Seldarine, Lolth bless her.”

Minthara’s jaw clenches just slightly, a flicker of irritation shadowing her gaze as she holds Lythaera tighter, protectively.

“Ah,” she murmurs, a cold edge in her voice as she pulls Lythaera closer, her voice softening for the girl. “I know exactly why he scared you, little one. Men are loathsome creatures, aren’t they? Pathetic, scummy things that slink in shadows. Especially the Seldarine.” She emphasizes the word with a playful, exaggerated sneer, one that makes Lythaera’s wide eyes brighten with amusement despite her sleepy fear.

“Scummy… men?” Lythaera echoes, her voice wobbling with a hint of giggles as she listens to her mother’s comforting, if unconventional, reassurances.

“Oh, the worst,” Minthara continues, her voice growing more dramatic as she strokes Lythaera’s hair. “And men like him… they’re far, far beneath you, my fierce little warrior. You’re a Baenre, a predator. And he? He’s just prey.” She grins at her, cooing in a way that only Minthara can—both nurturing and fierce. Her words are unconventional, but the result is immediate: Lythaera lets out a soft, happy laugh, leaning into her mother’s shoulder, clearly comforted.

“Am I a… a Banree?” Lythaera asks, her words stumbling as she tries to repeat Minthara’s.

“Yes, A Baenre,” Minthara whispers, her voice filled with pride. “You are. And no one dares cross a Baenre.” She taps Lythaera’s nose, coaxing another giggle from her, the remnants of her nightmare drifting further away with each reassuring word.

Content for now, Lythaera lets out a tiny sigh, and then, with a little tilt of her head, asks with all the innocence of a child, “Can I stay in the bed tonight, Mama and Momma?”

For a moment, you almost expect Minthara to refuse, her fierce devotion to maintaining boundaries and encouraging independence well known. But instead, her expression softens further, and she presses a kiss to Lythaera’s forehead, her voice gentle as she murmurs, “Yes, little one. Tonight, you stay with us.”

The surprise must have registered on your face, because Minthara meets your eyes with a small, almost self-conscious smile.

“Tonight, I think we can make an exception,” she murmurs quietly, as if reassuring herself as much as you. Her arms shift, and she looks down at the little girl in her embrace, brushing her cheek softly as she carries her toward the bed, settling her in carefully between the two of you.

Lythaera snuggles down, her small hands reaching out to touch each of you, her head nestled between her parents. Her fingers curl around Minthara’s sleeve on one side, and she rests her other tiny hand in yours, her breathing growing softer, her eyelids beginning to droop as she settles in with the security only the two of you can give her.

As she begins to drift off, you watch Minthara lean down, her lips brushing Lythaera’s forehead with a gentleness that belies the fierceness of her usual demeanor. She murmurs something soft, almost inaudible, but you catch the words: “My fierce little one… you’re safe. Always.”

A warm silence falls over the room, broken only by the rhythmic breathing of your sleeping daughter. Minthara’s hand reaches for yours over Lythaera’s sleeping form, her fingers entwining with yours in a gesture of shared strength and silent understanding. You feel the warmth of her touch, the unspoken devotion that seems to hang in the air between you.

For a moment, you say nothing, letting the quiet wash over you both, basking in the peaceful reprieve. You can feel Minthara’s protective energy radiating from her as she watches over Lythaera, her other hand brushing gently along her daughter’s back as if to ward off any lingering shadows of the nightmare.

You give Minthara’s hand a gentle squeeze, a silent message passed between you. She meets your gaze, her ruby eyes reflecting the same fierce loyalty and love that you feel, and in that look, you understand that this is your family. This is the strength that binds you, that keeps you grounded in even the darkest times.

Later on that day, after a particularly tense council meeting, discussing your recent.... absence, you could still feel the weight of the lingering issues swirling between you and Minthara, despite the making-up that had happened previously, it was clear Minthara still had more to do to make it up to you. Walking through the grand halls of House Baenre, the two of you made your way to the infirmary for a check-up on the baby. The rhythmic echo of your boots on the polished stone floor was almost calming as you walked side by side, your thoughts slowly shifting from politics to the life growing within you.

Minthara’s hand found yours as you walked, her fingers intertwining with yours in a rare show of tenderness. But the moment of peace was soon interrupted as the subject of Kyorlin arose, his name still hanging in the air after the council discussions.

“If he stays out of my sight, I’ll be willing to ignore the matter,” Minthara muttered, her eyes dark and unreadable. “Besides, I trust Melinoe’s already done something about it.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her comment. “At least that’s Lesaonar’s problem now, not mine.”

Minthara snorted softly, her hand tightening on yours for just a moment before she leaned over and pressed a brief, chaste kiss to your cheek. “True enough. You should thank me more often for my generosity.”

You smiled, pausing for a second to look at her with warmth in your eyes.

“Thank you, Minthara,” you whispered, and before she could respond, you placed a soft kiss on her cheek. She stiffened slightly, glancing around the hallway with that familiar edge of paranoia.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied quickly, though the slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth gave her away. “I don’t need people thinking I’ve gone soft.”

You chuckled softly but said nothing, knowing full well that her reputation was too fearsome for a single moment of tenderness to soften it. As you continued walking, the two of you noticed the way the servants and guards eyed you—some with open curiosity, but most with thinly veiled fear. Their eyes lingered on you, shifting from Minthara to you as though unsure of which was the greater threat.

Minthara’s smirk grew as she noticed their reactions. “Perhaps it doesn’t matter,” she remarked casually, her voice laced with amusement. “Considering I’m with you.”

You shot her a knowing glance, shaking your head. “They’re just scared of the both of us,” you teased lightly.

“Good. It’s exactly how it should be,” Minthara replied with a glint in her eye, her lips curling into a wicked grin as the two of you entered the infirmary.

Inside, the atmosphere was far quieter, the sterile scent of healing herbs and salves permeating the air. The healer greeted you both with a respectful nod, quickly guiding you to the private room where you could have your check-up in peace. Minthara stood to the side, her sharp eyes never leaving your figure as you lay down on the soft cot.

The healer worked swiftly, her gentle hands examining you as she placed the listening device over your belly. Moments passed, filled only by the rhythmic thump of your child’s heartbeat filling the room.

“The heartbeat is strong,” the healer said with a smile, nodding approvingly. “In fact, it’s never been stronger. Everything looks perfect, my lady.”

You let out a soft sigh of relief, feeling the tension you hadn’t realized was there leave your body. The reassuring thrum of your child’s heart sent a wave of calm through you. Minthara, standing beside you, gave a soft grunt of approval.

“Clearly, the baby took a liking to your little power trip earlier,” she commented dryly, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at your belly with a mix of pride and amusement. You raised an eyebrow, catching the playful spark in her tone.

“My power trip?” you echoed with mock offense. “I’d say it was more of a necessary intervention.”

Minthara smirked, her hand gently resting on your arm as she leaned down, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “Necessary or not, our child seems to have enjoyed it.”

You chuckled softly, reaching up to take her hand in yours. The two of you shared a brief moment of quiet, a sense of peace settling over you both as you felt the steady rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat echo in the room.

As the healer stepped back, giving you both some privacy, Minthara’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, a rare softness in her eyes. “You’ll make sure to keep this up, won’t you? Strong, fierce. Exactly what our child needs.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to her hand. “Of course. But maybe without slaughtering an entire clan of duegar.”

Minthara laughed softly, her hand lingering on your cheek. “We’ll see.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

At 24 weeks pregnant, you were starting to feel like your body was no longer your own. If you thought Lythaera’s pregnancy had been tough with all the kicking and discomfort, this one seemed determined to make you eat those words. The baby inside you moved constantly, its relentless shifting almost unceasing, especially at night. You felt like you barely got a moment’s rest. Every time you tried to find a comfortable position, another kick or twist would ripple through your belly, leaving you gasping or groaning in frustration.

“Minthara,” you muttered one evening as you lay in bed, clutching your swollen stomach. “I swear this child is trying to fight its way out.”

Minthara, ever your steady rock, tried to soothe you, her hands gently massaging your shoulders, though even she couldn’t hide her amusement at your predicament.

“Strong, like its mother,” she said with a chuckle, though there was a certain pride in her voice. “Our child will be a fighter, no doubt.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as another wave of movement made your entire belly shift visibly. “A fighter? Or a terror.”

But no matter how uncomfortable or agitated you became, the healers had assured both you and Minthara that the baby was strong. In fact, they seemed almost impressed by how well the pregnancy was progressing, commenting several times on the baby's robust health.

It wasn’t just the constant movement, though—the cravings had become maddening. One moment, you were desperate for sweet pastries covered in honey; the next, only something salty or savory would do. You sent the kitchen staff scurrying all hours of the day, trying to fulfill your ever-changing whims. Lesaonar had taken to hovering in the dining hall, attempting to anticipate your requests before they even left your lips, but even he was struggling to keep up.

During a particularly intense craving, you had demanded a rare type of mushroom from the Underdark, the kind that even House Baenre didn’t keep on hand. The kitchen staff had scrambled, panicking under the pressure, until Minthara herself had gone out with a small party to retrieve it for you.

“Anything else?” she’d asked dryly when she returned, presenting the mushroom to you like a trophy.

You’d felt a pang of guilt at how much trouble you were causing, but the cravings were impossible to resist. “Maybe some more honey cakes…?”

Minthara had simply sighed and gestured for the nearest servant to comply, though her lips had twitched in amusement.

But the mood swings—those were worse than any craving. One moment, you were snapping at Lesaonar or Minthara for some perceived slight, and the next, you were practically in tears, apologizing and seeking comfort. Minthara had become more reserved, learning quickly when to speak and when to simply hold you close. Lesaonar, on the other hand, took to hiding in his study when the worst of your moods struck.

You became incredibly clingy to Minthara, following her from room to room whenever she wasn’t out on some mission. The mere thought of her leaving you for more than an hour made your heart race with anxiety. The possessiveness you felt toward Lythaera had also grown to an almost irrational degree. You refused to let her out of your sight for too long, even hovering nearby during her playtime, as if some unseen danger lurked around every corner.

One afternoon, Minthara had found you sitting in the nursery with Lythaera on your lap, idly running your fingers through her hair as you watched her play with a doll. The moment Minthara stepped into the room, you reached for her, your eyes wide and pleading.

“Stay with me,” you said softly, your voice trembling with a sudden surge of emotion. “Don’t leave.”

Minthara’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t question you. She simply walked over, kneeling beside you and wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured you, her voice steady and calm.

Still, the entire house seemed to be on edge, especially as your magic began to flare up uncontrollably. Whenever your emotions spiked—whether from frustration, fear, or even joy—small bursts of magic would ripple through the air around you. Flames would briefly flicker in the hearths, or shadows would stretch unnaturally across the walls. One incident had sent a bolt of lightning cracking through the courtyard, startling the guards.

The servants and staff had taken to moving cautiously, as if afraid to trigger another magical outburst. You could feel their nervousness whenever you entered a room, but there was little you could do to control it. The pregnancy had heightened everything—your emotions, your power, your sensitivity to those around you. You had gone through an entire roster of staff, their corpses now feeding the gardens.

Minthara, however, never faltered. She remained steady and calm in the face of your erratic magic, never once showing fear or hesitation. Instead, she simply adapted, her eyes always watching you carefully, ready to step in if needed. Her presence grounded you, her touch calming the storm of emotions that constantly raged inside you.

Still, despite all the chaos—the cravings, the mood swings, the uncontrollable magic—the healers reassured you again and again that the baby was strong. The heartbeat was steady, the growth was progressing perfectly, and every sign pointed to a healthy, powerful child.

Minthara, of course, found no shortage of amusement in this.

“You see?” she teased one evening as you lay in bed together, her hand resting gently on your swollen belly. “All that power—our child clearly thrives off it. They’re already taking after you.”

“Strong, like their mother,” she repeats in that familiar, proud tone, though there’s something contemplative there too. A bit wistful, perhaps. She doesn’t voice her thoughts, but you know Minthara well enough to understand. You glance up at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you thinking of Lythaera?” you ask, your voice soft. She meets your gaze, momentarily surprised, but she nods, eyes drifting slightly as if picturing your daughter.

“I wonder sometimes,” she says quietly, “about whether she’ll have gifts like yours. Powers. They came so easily to you… yet with her, it’s different. She’s fierce, yes. Strong-minded, even at her age. But I don’t see that… same spark in her.”

There’s an unmistakable hint of disappointment in her tone, though you know Minthara loves Lythaera fiercely, powers or not. You reach out, placing a reassuring hand over hers.

“Lythaera’s only two,” you say, a gentle reminder. “Maybe she’s just… taking her time. Not every child exhibits magic right away, especially not one with her own wild spirit. Powers may still come to her.”

Minthara sighs, nodding, though you can see her grappling with her own high expectations.

“Even if she never does, it doesn’t change how I feel about her,” she assures you, her voice unyielding as steel. “She’ll still be fearsome—like me. No power will change that.”

Despite her certainty, her hand lingers on your stomach, where this new child, so active and spirited even before birth, seems a living symbol of raw potential. This child’s power already crackles in the air, vibrating through your magic in small, unpredictable bursts. Your curiosity bubbles up, mingling with Minthara’s clear expectations, and for a moment, you can’t resist teasing her.

“And what if it is a boy?" At this, Minthara’s scoff is almost immediate, a look of horror flashing across her face.

“If it’s a boy, let him take to the frontlines,” she says, her voice flat, though you catch the glimmer of humor in her gaze. “Let him be raised in battle. I’ll make a warrior out of him, one way or another.”

You laugh, shaking your head as another little kick ripples across your belly. Clearly the baby had some opinion in this.

“If we have a son,” you say, still amused, “it wouldn’t be so terrible if he took after Lesaonar, you know.”

You had the sense not to say Kyorlin, that might have sent Minthara over the edge. Minthara snorts, pulling her hand back in a mock display of exasperation. “More reason to send him off as soon as possible. One Lesaonar is plenty.”

You arch an eyebrow at her, thoroughly amused, though you know she cares for Lesaonar in her own way.

“So much for that sentiment of ‘I’ll love the child no matter what,’” you tease. “You’ll only love them if they’re a girl?”

Her lips quirk up in a smile, and she chuckles, unashamed. “Call me a traditionalist,” she says, shrugging one shoulder. “But let’s be honest. A daughter would do far more for House Baenre. And she’d be worthy of my protection.”

“Worthy?” you say, feigning offense as you roll over to face her more fully. “Minthara, I’ll remind you, sons are just as valuable—”

“-To the battlefield,” she interjects, her smirk growing. “To command the troops, rally the soldiers. Yes, valuable there. But as my heir?” She shakes her head, her eyes narrowing, still playful but with an edge of seriousness. “My preference is clear.”

The laughter dies down, leaving a comfortable quiet in its place. Despite her bold declarations, Minthara’s hand is gentle as it finds your belly once more, fingers brushing over your skin. Her expression softens, and her eyes, so often sharp and calculating, turn reverent as she watches the subtle movements beneath her touch.

“This one will be strong,” she says, her voice full of certainty. “Boy or girl, powers or not… I have no doubt. They’re going to be fierce, like you and I. I can feel it.”

You let out a contented sigh, feeling the intensity of her gaze on your belly, and you rest your hand over hers, feeling the warmth and strength of her steady presence.

At a luncheon with Lesaonar, you regaled him with Minthara's sentiments about the unborn child and were met with the same overdramatic offence that you predicted.

"Oh the Matron thinks so little of me? Of our kind? I would like to point out that I am the reason she got you back, that I was her salvation."

"Would you like to say that to her face?"

"I would rather not."

The triplets, thankfully, were out with Melinoe, giving the house a much-needed break from their boundless energy. Lythaera, still young enough to demand constant attention, was sitting on Lesaonar’s lap, her little fingers playing with the edge of his tunic as she babbled happily. Lesaonar, as usual, indulged her every whim, bouncing her gently on his knee while pretending to listen to her endless stream of toddler talk.

He chuckled, looking down at Lythaera with a fond smile. “You know, I miss when the triplets were this squishy,” he mused aloud, his voice taking on a wistful tone. “Maybe Melinoe and I should have another baby…”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh as you took a sip of your drink. “Another baby? What if she has triplets again?”

Lesaonar paused, the playful smile still on his lips, but there was a momentary flicker of thought behind his eyes as he pondered that possibility.

“It would be fine,” he said, with the calm confidence that only a parent who had already survived raising three at once could muster. “We’ve done it once before. I’m sure we could handle it again.”

Just as you were about to respond, the door burst open, and the triplets themselves came barreling into the room, their laughter and shouts echoing off the walls like a whirlwind of chaos. Sarae, Lira, and Viroen were in the midst of some sort of elaborate game, darting between chairs and tables, their quick, nimble bodies moving with the fluidity of well-practiced mischief.

Despite the sudden onslaught of noise and energy, Lesaonar remained unruffled, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he continued bouncing Lythaera on his lap. He gestured to the triplets to calm down, though his tone held no real authority.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” he said, though the fondness in his voice made it clear he wasn’t truly upset by their boisterous entrance.

You, on the other hand, let out a sigh of exhaustion just from watching them. “And you think you want more of this?”

Lesaonar chuckled, meeting your gaze with a teasing glint in his eye.

“Maybe just one more,” he said, though the way his eyes lit up at the sight of his children made it clear he wouldn’t mind if there were a dozen more. Minthara would likely laugh at his enthusiasm—though she had become far more attached to your own children than you could have ever predicted, even she would balk at the idea of a house filled with even more rowdy drowlings. After all with the Underdark's survival rate, you could understand the sentiment - you all had been so lucky so far, that none of your children had yet met with an untimely fate.

As the triplets continued to run circles around the room, their energy seemingly boundless, Lesaonar leaned back in his chair, still holding Lythaera with ease.

“See?” he said, smiling up at you. “No problem at all.”

You rolled your eyes at his optimism but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Even in the midst of chaos, there was a certain comfort in the noise, in the joy that filled the house when the children were around. Despite all the challenges, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

You exchanged a look with Lesaonar, raising an eyebrow as you tried to make sense of their commotion.

“What’s all this about?” you asked, your curiosity piqued. Lythaera, still bouncing on Lesaonar’s lap, clapped her tiny hands together, delighted by the triplets’ energy but equally confused.

“So loud!” she babbled in her broken toddler speech, giggling as she looked from you to them.

Viroen shot his sisters a quick, nervous glance, clearly wanting to say something but holding back. Sarae was biting her lip, her eyes sparkling with the effort it took not to blurt out whatever they were excited about.

“We can’t say!” Sarae finally squeaked, her hands practically vibrating with anticipation. “Not until Mama catches up.”

The three of them exchanged furtive glances, their excitement bubbling over but held back by some unspoken pact. It was clear they were on the verge of spilling whatever good news they were holding, but none of them wanted to break the rule. Lesaonar smirked, his lips curling up in amusement as he looked at you.

“Perhaps my wish is coming true sooner than expected,” he mused, his tone teasing but his eyes glinting with a sense of foreboding excitement.

Just as you opened your mouth to prod the children further, the door to the courtyard swung open, and there she was—Melinoe, striding in with a wide smile, her eyes gleaming with pride. Lira, in particular, straightened up at the sight of her mother, as if awaiting some sort of cue.

“There she is!” Melinoe announced triumphantly as she entered the room, her voice carrying a deep sense of satisfaction. She marched over to where the triplets stood and grabbed Lira by the shoulders, pulling her to the front as Sarae and Viroen flanked their sister, looking positively ecstatic.

“Well?” Lesaonar asked, his gaze shifting between his wife and children, now more intrigued than ever.

Melinoe, still beaming, looked directly at Lesaonar and you, her grip on Lira tightening as if to present her to the family. “Lira had her first kill today.”

There was a brief pause as the weight of those words settled in the room, and then the meaning struck. Lesaonar’s eyes widened in delighted surprise, and you felt a rush of pride wash over you. In drow culture, a child’s first kill was a monumental moment, a rite of passage that was celebrated by the entire house. It was not just a mark of growing strength but also a step toward proving their place within the hierarchy of society.

Melinoe, clearly basking in the moment, continued, her voice swelling with pride. “An older girl was picking on Viroen. They got into a brawl, but Lira finished it—dealt the killing blow - dagger to the temple.”

Lira, who had been standing as still as she could manage in her mother’s grip, now looked up with a mix of awe and excitement, her wide eyes gleaming with the thrill of her accomplishment. You could see how much this moment meant to her, a defining milestone in her young life. Lesaonar’s face lit up with pure joy as he pulled Lira into his arms, lifting her off her feet in a fierce embrace.

“My little warrior!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with unrestrained pride. “I’m so proud of you!”

Lira blushed deeply, overwhelmed by the praise but also clearly enjoying it. Her two siblings watched, their own faces beaming with pride for their sister.

You stepped forward, placing a hand on Lira’s shoulder with a smile. “Congratulations, Lira. Your aunt Minthara will be very proud of you when she hears. This is a moment to celebrate—a true House Baenre warrior.”

You could see Lira's eyes widen even further at the mention of Minthara’s name. The legendary warrior had always been her idol, and knowing that Minthara would hear of her accomplishment clearly meant everything to her.

“We’ll have a feast tonight to honor this moment,” you added. “The entire house will celebrate your victory.”

Lira’s face was aglow with excitement and pride, but when you mentioned Minthara’s admiration, she practically looked starstruck.

“Aunt Minthara will really be proud?” she asked, her voice small and awe-filled.

You chuckled and nodded. “Of course, she will. You’ve done something worthy of a warrior, Lira. Minthara will be the first to celebrate you.”

Lira smiled so brightly it was as if she might burst with happiness. Minthara’s approval clearly meant more to her than anything else. Lesaonar, unable to contain his joy, laughed as he set Lira down and pulled Melinoe into his arms, kissing her fiercely as if he couldn’t help but share in the celebration.

“Our little girl’s growing up,” he said, his voice filled with both pride and fondness.

Melinoe laughed softly, her arms wrapping around him. “She’s definitely going to give us a run for our money.”

You knelt down to Lira's level, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Would you like to come with me to tell Aunt Minthara the good news?” you asked softly.

Lira’s eyes widened with excitement, and she eagerly nodded her head, her dark hair bouncing with the motion.

“Yes, Auntie! I want to tell her!” she replied, almost vibrating with anticipation.

Smiling warmly, you extended your hand, which she took without hesitation, and the two of you set off down the halls of House Baenre. As you walked together, you noticed Lira stealing glances at you, as if processing the enormity of what had happened that day.

After a few moments, Lira finally spoke, her voice hushed but filled with pride.

“It was Viroen… He was minding his own business, but this older girl… she was vile, Auntie. She said nasty things, and I could see Viroen’s face getting all scrunched up. I didn’t like it. So, I told her to stop.” Lira’s voice grew stronger as she continued, recounting the events in vivid detail. “Then she shoved him! And I couldn’t let that happen. Sarae jumped in first, managed to get a few good hits in but I—I knew I had to end it, Auntie. So, I did. And I used the dagger that Mother got me last year and I would do it again.”

You listened intently, nodding as she spoke, her tiny hand gripping yours tightly. When she finished, you smiled down at her, pride swelling in your chest. “You did the right thing, Lira. I’m especially proud of you for looking after Viroen. It’s important to protect your brother, especially in our world.”

Lira looked up at you, her eyes wide and serious, as if she were absorbing the gravity of your words.

“But why? Why Viroen?” she asked, genuinely curious.

You sighed softly, thinking carefully about how to explain it to her. “In our world, Lira, boys like Viroen can be targets. He’s strong, but us ladies are stronger and people might see him as weak because he’s kind and caring. You, Sarae, and the others—you’ll always need to protect him. Just like I protected your papa when we were young.”

Lira’s eyes narrowed in determination as she absorbed your words.

“I’ll always protect Viroen,” she vowed fiercely. “And Sarae, and everyone in the house. I won’t let anyone hurt them.”

Her promise made your heart swell with pride, and you couldn’t help but smile down at her. “That’s a good promise, little one. Just remember, you don’t always have to fight to protect them—but when you do, make sure you’re ready, like you were today.”

The two of you continued your walk in silence for a moment, and soon you found yourselves approaching Minthara’s quarters. As you neared, you felt Lira’s small hand tighten in yours. You glanced down at her and noticed that the excitement from earlier had given way to a nervous anticipation. She idolized Minthara, and now, having earned the right to tell her about her first kill, it was as though the weight of her achievement was finally sinking in.

“Are you nervous?” you asked gently.

Lira looked up at you with wide eyes and nodded, biting her lip. “A little… What if Aunt Minthara isn’t proud of me?”

You stopped for a moment, kneeling down to look her in the eyes. “Lira, of course, she’ll be proud. You did something amazing today. You showed courage, strength, and the ability to protect your family. Minthara will see all of that.”

Taking a deep breath, Lira nodded again, squaring her shoulders as she prepared herself. You stood and continued walking toward Minthara’s quarters, and as you reached the door, you knocked softly. A moment later, Minthara’s voice called out from within.

“Come in.”

You pushed open the door, and the two of you stepped inside. Minthara was standing near the window, her posture relaxed but her sharp eyes immediately focusing on the two of you. The air shifted subtly, and you could feel the weight of her gaze as she assessed the situation.

“What’s going on?” Minthara asked, her voice calm but curious as she looked between you and Lira. You gently nudged Lira forward.

“Lira has something important to tell you,” you prompted softly.

Lira swallowed nervously, her hands bunching up in the fabric of her dress as she looked up at her idol. Her voice was small but steady as she spoke. “Matron, uh-Aunt Minthara… I had my first kill today.”

For a moment, there was silence. Minthara’s sharp eyes softened as she took in the words, and slowly, she knelt down to Lira’s level, her expression shifting into one of pride.

“Is that so?” she said softly, her tone filled with a warmth you didn’t often hear from her in the presence of others. “Tell me about it.”

Lira’s eyes sparkled as she recounted the events of the day, her voice gaining confidence as she explained how she had protected Viroen and finished the fight. Minthara listened carefully, her gaze never wavering from Lira’s face. When the story was finished, Minthara smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made Lira’s eyes widen in awe.

“You made House Baenre proud today, Lira,” Minthara said, her voice filled with quiet pride. “You protected your family and showed the strength of your bloodline. That’s all we can ever ask of you.”

Lira’s lip trembled slightly as if she were about to cry, overwhelmed by Minthara’s praise. You nudged Minthara lightly, whispering, “Hug her.”

Without hesitation, Minthara leaned forward and wrapped Lira in a rare embrace, pulling her close. Lira melted into her aunt’s arms, clearly overjoyed to receive such affection from someone she admired so deeply. After a moment, Minthara pulled back, her hands resting on Lira’s shoulders.

“Now,” she said, her voice taking on a slightly more commanding tone, “I want you to run to the kitchen and tell them what you want for your feast tonight. This is your night to celebrate.”

Lira beamed up at her and nodded eagerly, wiping away the few tears that had escaped.

“Okay, Aunt Minthara!” she said, her voice filled with newfound confidence. "And uh thank you, Matron."

As Lira turned to leave, giving a little bow of respect to Minthara, you watched her dash off down the hall, her small figure disappearing as she made her way to the kitchen. Once she was out of sight, you turned to Minthara, a smile playing on your lips.

“You handled that well,” you teased lightly. Minthara raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as she stood up.

“I’m not entirely heartless,” she replied, though her tone was laced with amusement. “But don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

You chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Minthara watched Lira disappear down the hallway, a thoughtful expression on her face. Once the door clicked shut behind the girl, she turned to you, her arms crossing over her chest.

"I have to say," she began, "Lira impressed me today. She has a lot of potential—more than I expected at this stage."

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest at the praise for your niece.

“She really does,” you agreed softly, before catching the knowing glint in Minthara’s eye.

“Though,” Minthara continued, raising a brow, “this does mean that Lythaera will have to get her first kill in before six.”

You rolled your eyes immediately, sighing in exasperation. “Minthara, it’s not a competition.”

She shrugged casually, her lips curving into a smirk. “I know, I know,” she said, lifting her hands in mock surrender. “But still… I got my first kill at four.”

There it was—the inevitable boast. You could only groan, lightly scolding her with a playful glare.

“Of course you did,” you said with a sigh. “But you do realize I’m not letting that slide, right?”

Minthara raised an eyebrow, curious but still grinning. “Oh? And what, pray tell, could possibly beat the age of four?”

Smirking, you leaned closer, your voice teasing. “Eighteen months.”

Minthara’s eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth parting as if to demand more details. “Eighteen months? How in the Nine Hells—”

With a flourish, you lifted your hand, and between your fingertips, thin, shimmering strands of divine silk began to form, weaving and twisting effortlessly. The threads glimmered with an otherworldly light, delicate yet powerful, radiating the unmistakable touch of magic far beyond your control. You held them up for Minthara to see.

“Uncontrollable powers,” you said, smiling triumphantly. “Turns out, if you get a bit too emotional as a toddler, things like this happen.”

Minthara's disbelief melted into an exaggerated pout as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“That’s not fair,” she muttered, though her amusement was obvious in the corner of her eyes.

You laughed softly, unable to resist teasing her. “Oh, so now it’s unfair? Seems like someone’s being a sore loser.”

Minthara narrowed her eyes, mimicking your earlier words with mock sternness. “‘It’s not a competition,’ remember?”

You both shared a look before bursting into laughter, the tension of the past few days evaporating between you. There was something peaceful, even comforting, about this light banter—something that reminded you of the deep connection you shared, far beyond any power or rank.

The two of you basked in the easy silence, enjoying the closeness of the moment. Minthara's hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer to her as you leaned into her side, the weight of your pregnancy pressing gently between you. For a brief time, everything felt perfect, simple, and free from the responsibilities of leadership.

That is, until the baby suddenly kicked—hard—against your ribs. You gasped, clutching your side as the sensation hit, your body jolting at the unexpected force.

Minthara's eyes darted to your belly, her hand immediately resting against it, both concern and amusement flickering across her features. “Strong, aren’t they?”

You took a moment to recover, rubbing the spot where the baby had kicked, and shot her a wry smile. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if this little one gets their first kill straight out of the womb.”

"I pity the healers that attend them when they do." Minthara smiles, she pulls you forward and pressed a kiss on your forehead. You sighed contently, sagging your shoulders in relaxtion, only a few more months and the little one would be in your arms. You could only hope that they would be patient enough to wait that long.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A very wholesome chapter for y'all after the last chapter, I know some people were sad that there wasn't pregnancy content for lythaera, hence why this one is a bit more focused on it. I was also cackling whilst writing the cockblocking scene, poor minthara.

I hope you all enjoyed it, please let me know your thoughts and theories down below. I really love reading them and they are such amazing motivators for this series! Love you all! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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[saragarnier]

Could I request a Jay Halstead x Female Reader fic. Where Jay and reader are married and they are chasing after a suspect when reader gets shot in the stomach. After surgery to take the bullets out, she feels like she's let Jay down and worries they will never start a family. But Jay reassures her they will have a baby one day.

Healing Process

Summary: y/n got shot in front of Jay and discovered that she might not be able to have children

Pairing: jay halstead x wife! reader

Warning: shooting, guns, blood, and angst. There’s also some fluff

A/N: I really hope you’ll like that! Thank you for your request because i really love writing this. Let me know if you like it, i hope it’s like you imagined it.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Can you help me with the vest?” You asked to your husband, Jay Halstead, holding your hair to the side to make it easier for him.

“Of course, babe.” He reassured you, smiling softly and walking towards you; when he was right behind you, he adjusted your vest and he secured it, leaving a kiss on your neck when no one else was watching you. “The best part is taking that off, but i appreciate this too.” He whispered to your ear, making you blush.

“Jay!” You whispered back, looking at him with wide eyes. “You can’t say that at work, it’s forbidden! We both agreed to keep it as much professional as we could at work, no references to sex!”

Jay chucked, placing a kiss on your forehead and stepping back; he adjusted is own vest and positioned his gun in the holster placed on his right thigh.

He loved when you were angry and, first of all, he loved when he made you embarrassed because of his words. He perfectly knew the effect he had on you and he took advantage of that; when you reached him and tried to hit him slightly on his chest, he stepped back again.

“Come on babe, i’m just kidding!” He laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist and stopping you from hurting him; he hid his face between your hair and he sighed. “Anyway, tonight i’m gonna take that off for sure… we still have to try to have a baby, right?” He said, smiling softly and caressing your hips with his hands. He paid so much attention when he was with you, always trying to make you feel good, always trying to make you feel comfortable. Sometimes he messed around with you, mostly because he wanted to tease you and make you angry, but he always paid attention to your feelings and needs.

“Right.” You whispered, nodding slightly. You smiled again and you relaxed in his arms, even if talking about baby was difficult for you. It was three months now that you tried to get pregnant and it wasn’t easy to take those tests and, every time, discovered that you weren’t able to do it, you weren’t able to get pregnant. You really wanted to start a family with Jay, you just couldn’t stop thinking about a mini Jay running around the house pretending to be a cop like his father and his mother. It was a dream for you both, probably the biggest dream you had: starting a family with the love of your life.

“Yeah, i know. I always like, you know, the process…” you whispered, reddening. “But i’m also tired. I just want to got pregnant and i can’t understand why it hadn’t happen yet. I mean, the gynecologist said that there’s nothing wrong with my body, so… i wish that tonight will be the night.”

“It will, love.” He kissed your head again, then he let you go and he added some distance between you two, hearing Voight’s steps on the stairs. “I promise you that we’ll have a family together, but first of all we have to catch that guy, okay?”

You nodded , becoming serious at once. He was right after all, you were at work and you needed to be focused on the job, in the guy that you had to catch for murder. It was a member of a gang that decided to got revenge alone, avenging his sister that was raped by one of the rival gang. It was not an easy case at all, especially when you found the guy’s sister at the entrance, crying. She knew that her brother had took revenge on his own and she knew that it wasn’t right, that’s why she accused her own brother for murder.

It wasn’t easy to speak with her because she was the victim after all. She suffered two times: when she was raped and when she discovered that her brother killed her raper.

“I still can’t understand how strong she was to accuse his own brother for the murder of her raper. She was broken inside and, still, she chose to be by the justice’s side. It’s remarkable.”

Jay nodded, sighing.

“Yeah, i know. It’s not an easy case but we have to pay attention. Even if she asked us to not hurt her brother, we have to be careful: he’s in a gang, he already killed once and he can do it again. Don’t think about her till we got him, alright?”

You nodded again, looking at your Sergeant and the others, that were just waiting for you two; you adjusted your hair in a ponytail and you walked towards them, ready to go.

“Okay. First of all i want to remember you that we’ll have to be careful. I want you all alive at the end of the shift, am i clear?”

You all nodded, paying attention to his speech, that was never the same. Sometimes he just recommended caution and told them to came back in one piece, sometimes he remembered them that they’re all a family and that they had to be united. You knew that those were just words, but you always appreciated them, especially because they came from Voight, that always seemed cold and strict at first sight, but was also sweet and kind with everyone he cared of.

The address that the sister gave you was actually a good hint; you separated and you went to the back of the house with Jay and Kevin while Adam, Kim and Voight entered from the front.

“CPD!” You heard Adam’s voice from the other side of the house and you immediately approached the back door to open it with Jay and Kevin by your side. You busted it open and you entered with your gun pointing in front of you, then you started to check the house to verify if he was there or not.

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

It was actually very obvious that the offender wasn’t in the house when you entered, but the beer on the table was still cold and you immediately understood that he was near.

“It’s still cold, he must have left some minutes before our arrival.” You pointed out, looking out of the window with your gun still in your hand, even if it was pointing at the floor. When you saw a figure outside the window, you got closer to identify him, but he started running away after dropping a box of pizza.

“Shit, he’s outside! He’s heading north!” You exclaimed, running after him with Jay at your side. The others got back to the cars, trying to stop him from the road while you two kept chasing him by foot.

“CPD, stop!” You screamed, running faster with your gun still in your hands. You tightened the grip in it, not sure about using it.

Before you could even think about that, the guy, after hiding behind a car on the road, pointed a gun at you both and started shooting at you.

“Gun!” You screamed, turning around towards Jay and throwing yourself on him, trying to took him down with you, where you both would have been covered.

“Are You okay?” You asked him, worried. He nodded and you both started to respond to fire.

“10-1, 10-1. Shots fired at the police. We need backup at our location. Black male, blue jeans and green hoodie.” You said at the radio, letting the rest of the unit know where you were. You took a deep breath, then you looked at Jay.

“Cover me!”

“What? No!” He screamed, trying to hold you from changing position. “It’s too far from here, he will shoot at us. We’re safe here and the unit’s coming. Just stay here and help me, we have just to resist.”

You looked at him, at how he responded to fire again and again but it never stopped; you didn’t know how many chargers the offender had, but he had many since it didn’t stop shooting , not yet. You had to do something about it, you just couldn’t stay there, responding to fire in a very bad position. You looked at Jay and you knew that at least you had to try; you didn’t tell him what you wanted to do because you were sure it wouldn’t have approved, you just did it.

You run towards another car that was at the other side of the road and you almost made it, you would have if Jay’s hadn’t finish on of his chargers. There was just few moments when Jay took his new charger from his pocket; he didn’t know that you were in the middle of the road when it happened, he just turned around to ask you how many chargers you still had and, when he didn’t see you there, he knew.

The first thing you heard was actually Jay screaming your name, then you heard the shot. You fell on the ground feeling a sharp pain in your abdominal area and, after that, all over your body. You knew that you were hit right under the vest and you knew that you were bleeding, you knew that because it was too much pain for just a bullet stopped by the vest. It wasn’t that, you had already felt that and the pain you were feeling was much worse.

Jay finally shot at the offender and he took him right in the chest; he fell on the ground without moving the same moment the rest of the unit arrived; Kevin ran towards the offender, discovering that he was dead, while the others ran towards you.

Jay was the first by your side while the others called an ambulance for you.

“Babe, shhh… you’re good, you will be good, okay? The ambulance is on its way” Jay applied as much pressure as he could, ignoring the moan of pain that escaped your lips. He could not let you die, not between his hands, not because of the fucking charger.

“Helps is seven minutes away.” Told a woman in the radio some moments after.

“It’s too much, we have to bring her to the hospital now!” Voight said, looking at Jay and the other. “Jay, can you took her into my car? I’ll drive you two to the hospital. Advise that we’re coming with an officer being shot.”

Jay didn’t wait a second: he took you in his arms and he got you inside Voight’s car, with him by your side. Your husband never left your side, he stayed with you all the time, applying pressure to your belly, where you were hit.

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry but i have to do it, babe.” Jay whispered when you moaned in pain again, feeling his pressure just on the wound. You knew that he was just saving your life and that you would have done the same for him, but all you could think was: “please, make it stop.”

You didn’t talk, especially since you were afraid you wouldn’t have been able to do it; you were really tired and you felt the darkness falling on you. Jay’s words seemed so distant and you just wanted to sleep, just for few hours.

“No, no! Don’t sleep!”

You mumbled something with your eyes closed, hearing doors being closed hardly and feeling your body so light in your husband arms that you immediately noticed the difference when he placed you on the stretcher.

“We got her, Jay. We got her, okay?”

Will.

That was Will, Jay’s brother.

That was the last thing you remembered before the darkness won against you.

When you woke up the next day, you heard someone talking just outside your room; they seemed nervous and anxious but you couldn’t understand why. You tried to open your eyes but the light was too bright for you, so you shut them again, trying to hear your husband talking with his own brother.

“They had to remove one of her ovaries, Jay. The bullet hit her there and they couldn’t repair the damage; besides that, the uterus is still intact and the same is for the other ovary.”

Jay was just shocked. He couldn’t believe his ears, he couldn’t believe that your chance of becoming parents was fading away slowly.

“We were trying to have a baby, Will.” Your husband said, his voice broken.

“I know, i know but look, I already told you that. You can still ha-“

Before he could continue, you finally open your eyes and you looked at them, both didn’t know what to do or what to say. It seemed like Jay and Will saw you, that’s why they entered the room without finished the sentence. It was weird but you couldn’t blame them for that, especially since you just lost your chances of becoming a mother with Jay.

How could you deny him a family? Was it the best for him? Will he be happy with you even without your own kids?

It was all your fault: you should have listened to him and stayed right where he said to, you should have told him that you wanted to go again and you shouldn’t have just done it without consulting not only your partner in work, but also your partner in life.

“Babe, you’re awake finally.” Jay sighed in relief, taking your hand in his and caressing it gently. “I was so worried about you, love. Please next time just advise me before doing something so stupid, okay?”

Jay was really trying to postpone the time of the bad news, you knew that because Jay was so obvious, especially with you. He just couldn’t lie, he was too good for it, even for small lies.

“Did they really remove my ovary?” You whispered, hoping that everything you heard was just a dream.

Please, God, tell me it’s just a nightmare.

Jay got pale in seconds, looking at you with wide eyes and trying to think about something that could have helped you with that, that could have helped you feeling less worried about everything.

“Yes, they… they did.” He whispered, gulping.

You looked at him and cried, looking up at the ceiling. When he noticed how broken you looked, he squeezed your hand gently and he tried to reassure you.

“It’s all my fault, it’s my fault. Now we won’t be able to have a family together and it’s all my fault.” You cried harder, ignoring the pain that you felt when you sobbed. The stitches didn’t help you with that and it made the pain worse, but it didn’t hurt as much as the news about your ovaries.

“Babe, no, no.” He took both your hands and he obliged you to look at him in the eyes, shaking his head and looking at you, concerned. “It’s not your fault and we’ll have a family together, okay? It’s just one of the ovaries, it will be difficult to get you pregnant but we’ll do it, okay? We’ll have a family and, if we won’t we can still adopt.”

He was right, but you were too shocked to hear him; all you thought was how bad Jay wanted a family, you knew that the moment he asked you to be his wife and you knew that he always dreamed about being a dad. How could you deny him that dream?

“Maybe we should divorce.” You whispered, without fully thinking straight. “You always dream of having a family and you can’t with me. You know how many times we tried and i didn’t get pregnant; with only one ovary will be extremely difficult. You deserve a woman that can give you your own children, not someone like me…”

Jay shook his head, astounded. He couldn’t believe his ears, he could believe what you just said . Were you serious? How could you even think about that?

“What?! No!” He exclaimed, tightening your hand. “Look at me, babe. I do not care about having my own children, i just want a family WITH YOU. It won’t be the same with someone else, they’ll not be you and i only want to become a dad with you, my love. Besides, Will told that you still can become a mother, we’ll just have to rely on some specialist, maybe, that can help us with that, but we’ll have our baby, okay? You don’t have to be worried, we’ll be parents, i promise you that.”

You listened to him carefully and, slowly, you started to feel better. He was always able to help you calm down when you were panicking, and it was one of those moments. He was so sweet and calm with you, even when you said things like that, like a divorce.

Probably you would have panicked on his side, that’s why you thought that having Jay by your side as your husband was the best thing in your life.

He didn’t want to give up on having a family with you and you shouldn’t have too.

“Okay.” You whispered, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry Jay, i love you and I shouldn’t have said that.”

He sighed deeply, then he lowered down on your bed and placed a kiss on your forehead, stroking your hair gently. “Don’t worry babe, i know that you didn’t expect it and i can understand why you reacted this way, but you don’t have to give up on our family because I won’t. I love you so much, babe and we’ll be parents together.”

You nodded and relaxed, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths.

He was right.

“I love you too, Jay, i really do.” You whispered back, squeezing his hand in yours and smiling softly. “And I can’t wait to become a mother with you.”

“You’ll be the best mom in the world.” He smiled again. “And I can’t wait to see you with a belly, my love. You’ll be amazing, you already are after all.”

You blushed and chuckled, hiding your face behind your hand.

“Have the doctor said when we’ll be able to try again with the pregnancy?” You asked, after some minutes.

“Not yet baby, but you have to heal before that. When you’ll be fine, we’ll try again and trust me, i can’t wait.”

“Jay!” You chuckled, shaking your head slightly. You smiled at him and you bit your bottom lip. “You’re incredible, but i love you so much.”

“Me too baby, me too.”

[blues824]

🌺Imagine a the daki reader in the world of the remarried empress.

🌸Her being a well respected orian in the past but now her being a lady in waiting to navier because of the empire she uses to live in send the there because she is the most respected and beautiful woman in her empire.

🌺so because of a tready between both empires she gets send there as a lady in waiting her leaning the rules of Eastern empire and dispite her raking back then she refused to a mistress .

🌸Later on rattrash learned about her being a orian and wants to become friends with her but daki being daki scolds her for not respecting her or navier and that she should at least try to act like a lady in a royal empire not like a unruly dog .

🌺I can imagine kosair and gyutaru planning rattrash and sovieshit there death because of them disrispecting their sisters and them getting along but in the beginning kosiar though that the daki reader was going to be like rattrash but changed his mind.

🌸How would everyone react to the daki readers brother gyutaro after she was throwing a tantrum or sombudy wanted to pay her for her service but now she is a lady in waiting no longer a orian (orians wher respected enough so they could deny customers ).

🌺Also aperntly orians where seen as fansion inspiration so imagine daki reader wearing somthing and it becomes a trend and she is known to be a style icon.

🌸And seeing her brother comforting her asking who hurt his beautyfull dumb little sister and almost murdering them only for her to hold him back because she doesn't want to have her brother banished .

Preface: You are from the Southern Empire, an Empire known for its Entertainment District.

Sovieshu

He had received a letter from the Emperor of the Southern Empire and it said that they would like to send a representative from there to serve under the Empress as her lady-in-waiting, as long as they don’t interfere with their affairs with the current economic crisis within the South. Sovieshu knew that this would be an opportunity to have a peace treaty, so he made the proper arrangements and informed his wife of the situation.

Then you arrived, and everyone let out a gasp. You were absolutely beautiful, with your kimono and your hair put up. You had a bit of a procession, and as you shook hands with him you explained that you and your group would be here to serve Her Imperial Majesty, as you each had many gifts that would serve the Empire in a beneficial way. Sovieshy was completely in love, and didn’t notice the disgusted look you gave him when you caught him staring.

After you had gotten settled, you had started receiving bouquets of flowers signed ‘S.V.’ You knew that it was him trying to woo your heart over, and the very thought of it made you want to crush that repulsive little roach. However, your place within the palace and your reputation would be threatened. You did send a nicer letter back, reminding him that you were no longer an oiran and thus did not offer those services anymore. But, he didn’t take the hint somehow.

Gyutaro actually had to calm you down when Sovieshu asked you straight to your face if you would be his mistress. You were screaming and crying, calling for your brother, and a body started emerging from your own. The sight was sickening, but a few moments later a man with a horrifying appearance and no shirt was patting your head and wiping your tears. After making sure you were alright, he went up to the Emperor and pushed him back as he said that his sister would never go down to such a level as a proper lady of the court.

Rashta

She knew of your arrival, and she thought the way you dressed was both foreign and beautiful. To be fair, you were foreign, hailing from the Southern Empire. However, you brushed her off as not worth your time as a mere mistress and not the Empress. Now she knew where you stood in your relationship with her. You saw her as a mere fly on the wall rather than as a person, and she was ready to retaliate.

Whenever she went up to you in a casual manner, you would shout at her because it was improper and that she should behave like a lady rather than an excited mutt. When she started tearing up, you smiled so evilly as you stated that if she were a dog, her ears would be flat against her head in embarrassment from being insulted by someone untouchable to her. And it was true; she couldn’t take any action against you for fear of creating ill will between the Eastern and Southern Empires.

Another thing that really irked her was how Sovieshu grew infatuated with you. It was always ‘I wonder how she is’, or ‘Did you know she was the crown jewel of the Southern Empire?’ She absolutely hated it. She became invincible once again, and she constantly felt as though she was battling with you for his attention. However, you weren’t even trying. You actually hated being the object of his affections.

Everyone was present when the Emperor demanded that you become his mistress. You broke down and started crying and screaming ‘no’ and calling for your brother. Suddenly, something started emerging from your back, and it unsettled Rashta’s stomach almost immediately. She threw up, and when she looked back there was a shirtless man comforting you before pushing Sovieshu to the ground. One of the servants pulled her back and everyone aside from you let out a gasp when Gyutaro pulled a knife out and held it to His Majesty’s neck and explained with a smile that his sister said no and he should learn how to listen.

Navier

Sovieshu had informed her of the Southern Empire’s proposition, and she had received her own letter as well giving more details about you. It was a tad surprising that you were a former oiran, as she was aware of what that was. To be more accommodating, she visited the libraries around the Empire just to read more about your homeland. Once you arrived, she was taken aback by your style of clothing and your hairstyle, but she recognized that it was customary for a woman of a high position within society. Even here, it would reflect that you were one of her ladies-in-waiting.

She did her best to help you adjust to your new home, but you seemed just fine on your own. You were actually very professional, knowing where your place was. However, as much as you acted professional, you were not afraid to scold the other ladies-in-waiting whenever they did something wrong or disrespectful. You even once compared Rashta to that of a dog, and Navier knew that you were aware no action could be taken against you; the jewel and beauty of the Southern Empire.

You did seek comfort in her, much like a child does with their mother. You liked dressing her up, and she allowed you to do so whenever Sovieshu would not cease with his advances. She liked the brightly colored kimonos you had designed and commissioned for her, and the hairstyles you would put her hair into. For the rather adult occupation you had before, you acted much like a small girl behind closed doors. 

However, she had never had the pleasure of meeting your brother before he was forced to comfort you after Sovieshu would not accept you rejecting him. You screamed for someone named ‘Gyutaro’, and a person started emerging from your back. Navier stepped back, and the figure lunged for the Emperor, holding a blade to his throat. You were wiping your tears and crawling to her, and she watched as her husband was fighting against who she assumed to be your brother. It was all overwhelming, but she kept herself as she knelt down and held you.

Heinrey

You were already in the palace by the time he made his appearance, and you both were onto each other. You could tell that he was a bird, and he could tell that you were something other than human. However, you both had an agreement: serve Navier and never upset her, and everything would be alright. You told him that you were a demon from the Southern Empire, but that wasn’t until much later.

Anyways, your trust in him was slim to none at the very beginning. It was only upon seeing how much he had fallen for Her Imperial Majesty where you started seeing him as an ally rather than an enemy. At the New Year’s Ball, you had told him that you knew he was the bird that had been visiting the Empress, and his eyes widened in surprise. You told him that he smelled like the crows back home, and it freaked him out.

He was actually the only one on this list who knew about the Entertainment factor of the Southern Empire, and it was mainly because of how Duke Ergi liked traveling there. He went once, and did not really enjoy it too much. It was very overwhelming, but you were probably used to that with how long you have lived there. He held a great respect for you as well, as he knew the amount of work you had put into being both a demon and an oiran.

When Sovieshu asked if you would be his mistress, Heinrey was present and at the side of Navier. You started yelling and screaming before you fell to the ground calling for your brother. Then, something emerged from your back. He pushed the Empress’s face into his chest so that she wouldn’t see the gruesome sight, but within a few seconds there was a man without a shirt who was patting your head and making sure you were alright. The softness ended, however, when he lunged for Sovieshu and held a kama to his neck. He and Navier knelt down and pulled you into their arms to try and comfort you, but you were just watching your brother at this point.

Kosair

When he first met you, he thought you were going to be like a less-subtle version of Rashta. However, he has actually seen you push her and say that she should be acting like a lady rather than a useless and pathetic mutt. You also told him about how you absolutely despised the Emperor because he kept trying to employ your services as an oiran, when he really knew that it was somewhat similar to being a mistress. You did not want Navier to go through the pain again.

Speaking of, he doesn’t really care if you were an oiran. You were still a person (demon, but he didn’t know yet), and still had a heart and a story. He loved listening to you, and you telling him about your life within the Southern Empire. It was these moments where you were vulnerable that made him actually fall for you. He wanted to protect you from the life of hardship that you suffered with your brother. Actually, your relationship with Gyutaro reminded him of his relationship with Navier.

Your brother has told you in your head that he liked this guy because he supported you and made you feel happy. The one time where you didn’t have your traditional dress and hairstyle on when you went to meet him outside of the palace, Kosair ran his hands through your hair and it was the most gentle thing you’ve felt since your brother huddled with you in that blanket so many moons ago. You leaned into his chest and thanked him for the small amount of normalcy he gives you.

The day that Sovieshu asked you to be his mistress, Kosair was there and was about to wrestle him to the ground for daring to ask that. However, you yelled and even screamed for your brother and everyone let out a gasp upon seeing the figure emerge from your back. He turned to see what was going on, and he saw a flash of green and grey before he was pushed aside and Sovieshu was on the ground, wrestling with Gyutaro. Your lover quickly made his way over to you and knelt beside you to hold you and comfort you, making sure you were alright.

[daemonsdivorcerock]

THE RED COUNCIL || d.targaryen

SUMMARY: viserys targaryen is dead. his succession left in doubt. all (name) targaryen has to her claim is a few words and a stolen right. war is coming to the seven kingdoms and the dragons will dance. sister against sister. kin against kin.

REQUESTED: yes/no

PAIRING: daemon targaryen x fem!targaryen reader

AUTHOR’S NOTES: part four of the shrew of king’s landing series. reader is described as having silver hair. cregan stark is slightly aged up in this btw.

WARNINGS: bucket loads of incest, parental death, allusions to murder, war, mentions of usurping, slight cregan stark/reader, mentions of “blood and cheese”, pregnancy, stillbirth, miscarriage etc

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

VISERYS TARGARYEN IS DEAD. HE HAD BEEN FOR LESS THAN AN HOUR. (Name) could not help but feel a form of guilt as she stood there, alone, with a hand on her stomach and tears running down her cheeks. Her father was dead. Her mother was dead. Her parents were dead.

Daemon had walked into the chambers after being summoned. He was respectfully quiet as he did so, hands on his wife’s shoulders. “The King is dead,” (Name) uttered quietly, as Daemon toyed with her silver locks.

“Indeed he is,” Daemon spoke, in a similar manner, holding his wife close. Everybody expressed their grief in a myriad of ways. Daemon preferred to bottle his feelings to avoid talking about them. (Name), on the other hand, sought comfort in others, “We must summon the Small Council,”.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

“Couldn’t we have begun this meeting when the sun has risen?” Tyland Lannister had asked, a smile on his face and a joking tone to his voice.

Sitting around the table, was the Red Council. Alicent had been informed the news firstly, as the Dowager Queen, then Otto as the former Hand of the King. Sitting at the head of the table, (Name) sighed. “The King is dead,” she revealed, causing the smile on Tyland Lannister’s face to drop and the room to fall silent.

“How long?” the Grand Maester queried, adorning beige-coloured robes, from across the table next to Ser Lyman Beesbury, a favourite in the council of (Name)‘s.

Daemon, who stood behind his wife, hand on her shoulder, confessed; “An hour ago, at most,” the Rogue Prince said, “(Name) was with him in his final moments and witnessed his death,”.

“He went peacefully in his sleep,” (Name) described, interlocking her fingers and resting her hands on the table. It felt odd, knowing that her father was dead, “He expressed…regret in not naming me as his heir and apologised,”.

“I believe we should confer the issue of King Viserys’ sucession,” Otto Hightower spoke, leaning forward slightly, “In regards as to who shall ascend the Iron Throne,”.

(Name)’s eyebrows furrowed. “My father has barely been dead an hour and here you sit, Otto Hightower, implying his succession!” (Name) snapped, “My sister, the Princess Rhaenyra, was named formally as heir twenty years ago by my father. The lords of the realm swore allegiance to her. To challenge my sister’s claim would be treason,”.

“That may be so, Princess,” The Grand Maester piped up, catching the room’s attention, “However, as in accordance with the King’s final words and the technicality of you being his firstborn child, you have every right to ascend the Iron Throne,”.

Alicent Hightower, who stood behind her father, uttered, “Princess (Name) also has a legitimate heir, the Princess Daenerys, who in turn also has a legitimate heir, the Prince Jaehaerys. Princess Rhaenyra has no legitimate children,”.

“It is well known that the people referred to my wife as “The Realm’s Joy”. She has a good relationship with the common folk and listens to their pleas,” Daemon said, as (Name) looked up at him.

Otto Hightower spoke up again, “I and others present in this council recall the Princess’ political and other suggestions in regards to the welfare of the Kingdom. In all valid points, the Princess (Name) would be an ideal candidate to be the next ruler of the Iron Throne,”.

“I acknowledge your points, councilmen,” the Princess spoke, “But Rhaenyra is my sister. What is stopping her from coming to the Red Keep and staking her claim? What is stopping her from putting me and my family to the sword?”.

“You do have allies in other Houses, Princess,” Daemon mentioned, “Lord Borros Baratheon. Lord Grover Tully. I recall you had a brief liaison with Lord Cregan Stark in your youths,”.

(Name) smiled, recalling the times she spent with Cregan Stark. “Houses Lannister, Tully, Redwyne, Tyrell and many minor houses have notably supported your cause as heir,” Otto mentioned.

“There has never been a Stark who forgot an oath,” (Name) backfired, “Lord Rickard Stark swore allegiance to Rhaenyra upon her ascension. My mother was an Arryn, yet the Vale would also have loyalty to Rhaenyra. I am also unsure about House Velaryon. Dorne is positively out of the question, House Martell remains neutral,”.

All this talk of war and politics made her head hurt. She let out a soft wince of pain, holding her stomach. Her white nightgown had been stained a dreary crimson, panic darting in her eyes. “Princess?” Otto asked, almost a hint of concern darting in his eyes.

“M-My labours,” (Name) muttered, holding her stomach, “I-I think I have begun my labours,”. She doubled over and scrunched in pain.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

It was the early hours of the following morning when the Red Keep had been awoken by the screams of blistering agony. Adorning a blood-stained nightgown, (Name) keeled in pain, her knees almost buckling.

The handmaidens begged her to let them help. She knew deep down. Her mind rebelled against the idea. Rejected it completely. But in her heart, she knew. She knew this baby was dying. Her ninth child.

Daemon was trying to keep the Small Council at bay, the lot of them like wolves begging for a scrap of instruction. She sank against a wall, screaming and sobbing. Her hair was mussed and wild and face drenched with sweat, pieces of hair sticking to her forehead.

Eventually, the physical pain subsided when the baby came out. But the emotional pain was only just beginning. She breathed heavily for a minute or two, the sound of silence was deafening. The maids were sobbing. Through teary eyes and a dishevelled heart, she picked up the blood-stained infant.

During the birth she felt inward how Meraxes was roaring she screamed. The link between dragon and rider must have been more real than she had assumed.

She wasn’t moving. Her daughter wasn’t moving. The baby felt warm still. She had tufts of silver-coloured hair and half-closed lavender eyes. (Name) pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead.

The baby was small and deformed. Her limbs were thin as twigs and her body was covered in grey scales. She was gaunt and slender and lacked a nose. Daemon had come in, finding his wife sitting emotionlessly, holding their child.

He joined her on the bloody floor, holding her as she screamed and sobbed, about how “it was unfair”, and how she “should have died instead”. She refused to let the Silent Sisters prepare the baby’s body for a funeral later.

Visenya Targaryen died loved and lived briefly, her corpse burnt by Meraxes’ flames. She knew that her mother and father would protect Visenya in heaven. Protecting her. Blinded by grief and mourning, the Shrew of King’s Landing took to the Red Keep.

Rhaenys Velaryon had declared her allegiance to (Name)’s cause before departing for Driftmark with Baela and Rhaena, to reunite with Corlys Velaryon after he was found at sea.

All that was left was the coronation.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

[raindrop-21]

Scarred Love - Chapter Eight: Do You Wanna Know?

a/n: Took a long bit of writer's block, but I got it done!

Word count: 1,359

Cw: Ghoap x f!reader, soulmates, Simon's family, small mention of murder, a bit of angst with comfort(Tell me if I missed any)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8 ~ Masterlist

You laugh at Simon’s chiding. Your friends might be a bit over-the-top sometimes, but you still love them and their protectiveness of you.

“So, uh, when will I be meeting your guys’ parents?” You say as a way to try and bring the conversation back to what it was originally, “We’re already here in England, so why wait?”

“Well… You were given two papers right?” Johnny Questions.

“Yeap, one for England and one for Scotland. Figured I'd at least meet whoever's parents that are in England while I'm here.”

Simon looks away for a second, “... My Ma's no longer with us…” You see the sadness in his eyes and the sympathy given from Johnny.

“Could I still visit her? Let her know her boy's in a second set of good hands?”

“That's a good idea, Luv.”

Some of Simon's sadness disappeared and is replaced by something softer, something sweeter.

~The next day~

You've been riding in Simon's car for two hours now. It's an older car, one with a full row of seating in the front seat. You're seated in between Simon and Johnny. You half expected both men to place a hand on your thigh during the ride, but to your surprise they've both been really respectful to you, unlike men in the past. The radio is softly playing and you think you hear Take On Me by a-ha playing and Johnny humming to it.

Johnny taps you on the knee to get your attention.

“Lass, we’ve got about another two hours before we get to the ferry, if ye want ye can take a wee nap.”

“Got it.”

You nod and lean in closer to him, your side closer pressed into his. Johnny’s quiet humming is quite relaxing, the reverberations of his voice against your side makes you somewhat sleepy. You don’t think you’ve fallen asleep, but you’re awoken by a gentle hand on your shoulder lightly shaking you awake.

“C’mon Luv, wake up, we’re here.”

Simon’s voice, gruff, opposite of his touch, wakes you up.

“Hm?” You hum as you rub your eyes.

Once you’re fully awake, you grab the flowers you wanted to bring and your other items that you need. Johnny offers to hold the flowers for you, but you decline. You hold the flowers in one hand, and the other hand, well more like your pinky on that hand, is being held by Simon. You can tell it means a lot to him.

You go on a nice hike up the mountain, to a beautiful clearing, bare except for a singular tree in the middle and some flowers in the grass. Under the tree are four gravestones, the tallest one says “Liliana Riley, Loving wife and mother.”, the next on says “Tomas “Tommy” Riley, loving son, husband, father and brother.”, the one next to it says “Beth Riley, loving wife and mother.”, the last one has small picture of toddler on it and says “Joseph Riley, loving son and grandson.”.

“S'my mom, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew.”

Your heart breaks for Simon. His whole family is here, but gone. You hug Simon, the raw emotion flooding off the two of you. Simon wraps both his arms around you, its gentle yet strong; like he doesn't want to hurt you, but thinks you're going to get taken away from him. 

It feels like forever goes by before the hug ends. When it does the two of you walk over to where Johnny has already set down the blanket you guys brought in front of the tree and graves. You divide the flowers and set some on each of the graves. Johnny places a little toy car on Joseph's grave, there's already around three there, it must be a tradition. You look at the dates on the gravestones, all on the same day.

The realization that they were most likely murdered saddens you even more. Tears prick at your waterline, threatening to spill over, to betray the calm facade you wanted to portray today. Your hands instinctively search for Johnny and Simon's, you grasp their hands in yours, not wanting to let go. 

“S'okay Bonnie,” Johnny coos at you, “I wasn't much calmer.”

You lean into Simon and the hand that was holding yours wraps around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. You want to ask what exactly happened to all of them, but you don’t. You leave it to him to tell you. The three of you spend a while just enjoying the slight breeze and quietness of the mountain top. 

“I bet yer Ma’s happy tha ye brought us both, Si.” Simon nods in response to Johnny's comment.

~Simon’s POV~

I’m nervous. So, so nervous. Not even Johnny was this quick to ask to see my family, but then again he knew me before we knew we were soulmates. It took a while before I offered for him to ‘meet’ them. But now I’m driving to the ferry to let her meet them. It’s nerve-wracking, it truly is. What will she think when she sees the graves? Sees the date on the graves? Will she ask why my father isn’t there too?

I’m barely pulled from my thoughts when Johnny tells her to take a nap for the rest of the drive. I get fully pulled from them when I hear Johnny call for me.

“Si. Simon? Hon? Luv? Honey-boo-boo-bear?”

“Don’t call me that.” I say in annoyance, hating the overly sickly sweet way he said it just to annoy me.

“Whatcha thinking abou’?”

“I know he’s worried, I’ve been silent, more silent than usual, “Nothin’ hun.”

He clicks his tongue, “It’s not nothin’. Yer bein’ deadly silent over there. The only time you’re like that is if yer lost in yer own thoughts. So, what’s weighin’ on ye Si?”

I sigh knowing I can’t win when he’s onto me, “I’m just worried s’all.” I say as I reach for my pack of cigarettes.

Johnny’s hand stops me.

“Two things; We dinnae ken if she’s okay wit cigarettes, and just tell me, dinnae keep it do yourself.”

I groan and stop my movements of reaching for the cigarettes.

“Just what I thought when I brought you ta meet them, ya know? The date on the graves, the graves themselves, the absence of my father’s grave.”

“Oh Si.” He says as he reaches over and grabs my hand before placing a soft kiss on it, “If she asks, ye can answer or say yer not ready to, I’m sure she’d understand.”

She probably would. I think she would. I hope she does. Johnny’s made me at least somewhat calm.

~A bit later~

She’s still asleep… I should wake her up. I decide to wake her up by gently placing my hand on her shoulder and lightly shaking her awake.

“C’mon Luv, wake up, we’re here.”

My voice, a bit gruff, opposite of my touch, wakes her up.

“Hm?” She hums as she rubs her eyes.

She grabs the flowers she brought for them and we head to the ferry. The whole time I want to hold her hand, but we haven’t discussed boundaries yet, maybe just holding part of her hand will be okay. I link my pinkie in hers. I can feel her jolt in surprise, did I make a mistake? Then I feel her relax and curl her pinkie around mine… thank god. 

Once we get there she looks over the scenery… And the gravestones. After a minute or two, she turns around and faces me, there are… Tears in her eyes? What surprises me more than the tears is when she hugs me; it’s tight, and warm… And needed. So, so needed. I hug her back, just as tightly, but a bit gentler so as not to accidentally hurt her; one arm around her waist, and the other holding her head. I look at Johnny and he gives me a sweet smile and a thumbs up as he sets down the blanket, once the two of us are done hugging, we sit on the blanket and I explain a small bit to her, all the while she hasn’t let go of my hand.

Maybe everything will be alright.

Taglist:

@under-the-dirt @littlebluespoon @actuallyhiswife @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @cdej6 @whynotbad @kaoyamamegami @oooof-ifellforyou @aldis-nuts @fanngirl19 @zealouspursecowboydeputy @inarabee

[monaskydancer]

The Dragon's Heart

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fOC

Genre: Drama, Romance

Just some fluff I needed after last night's episode.

The Red Keep echoed with whispers of war and the soft footfalls of servants too afraid to speak aloud. King Aegon Targaryen sat alone in his chambers, his heart and mind a storm of grief and rage. The assassination of his son, Prince Jaehaerys, had been the final straw.

He stared into the flickering flames of the fireplace, his silver-gold hair casting shadows over his face. His eyes, usually so vibrant, were dulled by sorrow. He could still hear the laughter of his boy, still see his smile mere hours before he was taken from him forever. The memories were a dagger to his heart. He would never forgive his sister, Rhaenyra, for what she had done.

"Your Grace," a soft voice called, breaking through the fog of his thoughts.

"Elara," he said, his voice hoarse from hours of silent mourning.

Aegon looked up to see Elara Waters standing by the doorway. She had been his closest confidante and friend for a long time.

She approached him cautiously, sensing the storm of emotions brewing within him. "I heard you declared war against Rhaenyra."

He nodded, his jaw clenched. "She has to pay for what happened to my son. I cannot let this go unanswered."

Elara placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I understand your anger, Aegon. But revenge will not bring him back. It will only lead to more bloodshed and suffering."

His eyes flashed with a mixture of grief and fury. "What would you have me do, Elara? Let her get away with it? She murdered my son! The heir to the Iron Throne!"

"I would have you find a way to heal," she said softly, her eyes pleading with him. "I know it seems impossible now, but vengeance will only consume you. It will turn you into something you're not."

He looked away, struggling to hold back tears. "I don't know how to heal, Elara. I have no support at all in this fucking family. No one came to me yet. Not my mother. Not my wife. Not my brother. No one. How am I supposed to move on from this."

She stepped closer, her presence a comforting warmth. "You don't have to do it alone. Let me help you, Aegon. Let me be here for you."

He turned back to her, his defenses crumbling. "I don't deserve your kindness."

She reached up and cupped his face, her touch gentle and reassuring. "You deserve love and support, Aegon. You don't have to carry the burden by yourself."

For the first time since Jaehaerys' death, Aegon allowed himself to break. He pulled Elara into his arms, holding her tightly as the tears flowed freely. She held him, offering silent comfort, her own heart breaking for the man she loved.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension in King's Landing only grew as war preparations intensified. Elara remained by Aegon's side, her unwavering support a source of strenth for him. They spent long hours together, talking about his son, sharing memories, and finding solance in each other's company.

She smiled softly. "You don't have to find out."

One evening, as they sat by the fire in Aegon's chambers, he turned to her, his eyes filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I would do without you, Elara."

He took her hand in his, their fingers intertwining. "You've been my rock through all of this. I don't think I can ever repay you."

"You don't need to repay me," she said, her voice gentle. "I am here because I care about you, Aegon. Because I love you."

His heart swelled at her words, a mix of joy and sorrow washing over him. "I love you too, Elara. More than I ever thought possible."

They leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with love, longing, and the promise of healing. In that moment, Aegon knew that with Elara by his side, he could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

The night before the battle of Rooks Rest, Aegon and Elara stood on the balcony. Aegon turned to her, his expression serious. "Promise me you'll stay safe."

"I promise," she said, her eyes filled with determination. "But you must promise me the same."

They stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, finding comfort in their love. The world around them was about to descend into chaos, but in that moment, they had each other.

He nodded, taking her hands in his. "I promise."

[tedwardremus]

nonsense questions:

well it's more of a burning question I've been thinking of for a long time (yes, it inspired a small fic for Jily week)

What are your thoughts on Petunia/Vernon's relationship?

Do you think they are actually in love or do you think that Petunia was in love during their early part of their relationship. But something happened later on that made her view her relationship as if it was just a marriage of convenience ( it took me 5 tries to get that word correct and I'm still looking at it funny)

Let me explain: Vernon knows that his sister-in-law was a witch and that his nephew has magical powers. That being said, if his and Petunia's marriage were to end, for any reason...do you think he would hold the knowledge he knows against Petunia? Since Muggles are unaware of magic (some not all of them). Not only that but they are literally abusing/neglecting their nephew Harry, by having him live in a cupboard under the stairs, and not give him the love and care that every child deserves.

I think that Petunia knows that if things were to go south, it would be really hard to get herself out of the predicament, same goes for Vernon. I don't believe that anyone else would go along with the abuse they've been giving Harry. Also, it's convenient for them that nobody finds out that they have been treating their nephew in such bad conditions.

I hope I'm not confusing you with this... like, I know many couples who are together out of convenience and who are abusive to their children and I always think....if they break up (which I wish they did along with getting therapy ) I don't believe someone else would stay with them.

sorry that this is longer than what it should've been, but I'm curious to know what you think about this

You may have asked a nonsense question, but I gave you a serious(ly long) answer.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley’s relationship is often overshadowed by their negative traits, but their bond is rooted in a genuine love that reflects their shared values and fears. While they may not be admirable characters, I believe strongly that they did, in fact, love each other.

Vernon and Petunia both yearn for the ideal suburban middle-class lifestyle, one that is ordinary, predictable, and free from potential ridicule from others. This desire for normalcy is central to their relationship, providing a common goal that binds them together. They are not interested in the extraordinary or the extravagant; instead, they take comfort in the familiar and the mundane. Vernon wants a good car and a good suburban house and a corner office job and to play golf because that is what a good, proper English man is supposed to want.

They want to protect their way of life, keeping their world insulated from what they perceive as disruptive forces. (They are obviously Brexit voters).

Their commitment, especially Vernon's commitment to Petunia, is evident in the way they raise Harry. Despite the many challenges Harry’s presence brings, Vernon and Petunia never appear to argue about how to treat him. They agree on their methods, which, while harsh, are consistent and reflect their desire to suppress anything that threatens their version of normalcy.

Petunia’s resentment toward Harry is deeply personal, tied to her complex feelings about her sister and the magical world that took Lily away. Harry, with his resemblance to James and his inherited magical abilities, is a constant reminder of the life Petunia lost—first when Lily went to Hogwarts without her, and again when Lily was murdered.

Vernon, on the other hand, is terrified of magic and sees it as a threat to the safe, predictable life he and Petunia have built. Yet, despite his fear, he stays with Petunia and supports her, even after learning about her sister’s magical abilities. Vernon’s decision to stay in a house where magic is present, even though he clearly is terrified of magic, indicates his deep love for his wife, especially after he realizes he can't just simply beat the magic out of Harry. He endures his fears because his love for Petunia outweighs them.

Vernon and Petunia are not good people. They are shallow, materialistic people who are obssesed with what others think of them. They share a vision of life that is deeply aligned, from their political views to their desire for a traditional, middle-class lifestyle. This shared vision is the foundation of their relationship, allowing them to present a united front in all aspects of their lives, including their approach to parenting. They made choices together about how to raise their family, which includes raising Dudley to be a toxic bully and to abuse Harry. They care more about what their neighbors think of their family’s status than a child's well-being in their care.

The love between Vernon and Petunia is not a passionate or romantic love but rather a practical, partnership-based love that revolves around maintaining the life they have built together.

If they were to break up, the aftermath would reflect their individual characters. Vernon, with his respectable job and suburban values, would likely remarry. He would be bitter about the divorce, blaming Harry and external factors rather than reflecting on his own role in the relationship's failure. Given his social status, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find a second wife who fits neatly into the life he’s already constructed—a conservative, suburban woman who shares his values and outlook. Vernon’s ability to move on would be fueled by his desire to maintain the life he’s accustomed to, even if it means replacing Petunia with someone else who can fulfill the role of a respectable wife.

Petunia, on the other hand, would struggle deeply with the breakup. Her marriage to Vernon is more than just a partnership; it represents her escape from the world that made her feel inferior and abandoned. Confiding her secret about Lily and the magical world was a significant act of trust for Petunia, one that she would be hesitant to repeat with another person. The breakup would likely feel like another abandonment, similar to the way she felt when Lily went to Hogwarts or when her parents, in her opinion, seemed to favor Lily. The emotional toll of losing Vernon, who provided her with a sense of normalcy and security, would be devastating for Petunia, and it’s unlikely she would ever fully recover from it.

However, it’s hard to imagine the Dursleys ever breaking up. They may not be good people, but they are good for each other. The Dursleys are a strong, united family, and despite their many flaws, they love each other deeply.

[evita-shelby]

They didn't know we were seeds

Chapter 7

Cw: infidelity, mentions of incest, sex trafficking

@emotionalcadaver @justrainandcoffee @peakyswritings @call-sign-shark

They are in the Justice Hall in his district, laughing and sneaking around like real lovers. They hide in an attic, disheveled and spent as they lay together in a dirty rug. Done in secret because they could die if Changretta knew.

Snow didn’t give a shit what went on as long as it didn’t bring any disruptions in his government. Two victors fucking provided good gossip in the Capitol and at most ideas in those who solicited sex from them, no one in the districts cared about that when they are busy trying to survive.

They began as allies and now they were friends and something a little more than just that. It was just comfort in having sex because you want to with someone who you can be yourself with. Eva was the only one Jack felt truly comfortable being this vulnerable with even if he was pretty adept at the whole sex without feelings shit too.

Despite what she did, Jack cannot help himself like her. He supposed it was because no one could truly understand what he was going through unless they were stuck in the same hell as him.

“I hate her you know, Tigris.” She says when he brings up her winning strategy. “Said it was the strategy the first District 12 victor used to win.”

They hardly talk about Laurie, or the Capitol or anything relating to the games. But he’d noticed her penchant of wearing black ---her new favorite color--- and asked about her former stylist who’s faded into obscurity as a fur underwear designer.

“You hate her because it worked.” He holds her hand as if it wasn’t his brother who died because of it and for her sake doesn’t continue this conversation. “I suppose if Lucy Gray could fall for her mentor and he for her, two tributes could do the same.”

“I didn’t know that; it was back when mentors were Capitol students wasn’t it?” Eva asks and turns to her side with her undivided attention.

“Lucy Gray won because Coriolanus Snow fell in love with her.” Jack then begins a tale so strange she has to wonder if he drank more than he should have at dinner.

The President was Tigris cousin, they were poor, he was Lucy Gray’s mentor at the tenth games, he was best friends with Sejanus Plinth who hailed from 2 from the exact village Jack’s family is from. Lucy Gray had a rainbow dress just like hers and Snow a suit just like Dustin’s at the interview when they won. Snow was made a Peacekeeper as punishment while all records of the games were destroyed because the Head Gamemaker caught him cheating.

Only no one expected for Servilla Plinth to tell her little sister in her encrypted letters home and for said sister to tell her grandson when he confided in her about his plan to kill Eva after the president’s visit.

Snow and Sejanus were stationed in 12th where the latter was tried for treason and Lucy Gray murdered by the Mayor when Snow was pardoned and returned to the Capitol. Snow didn’t want anyone to even remind him of that nor the possibility that he killed his best friend.

It explains why Snow wanted Eva dead, come to think of it. Tigris had reminded him of how he got there, something only people ashamed of their past hated.

And now he shares that secret with her in this dank attic where only the rats and insects can hear and see them.

She is not angry at him for agreeing to kill her, said she would’ve done the same for her brothers and then kissed him like she loved him. Like she kissed Laurie before her failed murder-suicide.

“We should go, they’ll be looking for us.” He says before things spiral out of control.

Eva returns to the Capitol to find her protector dead.

In his place stands the leader of the Peaky Blinders, Thomas Shelby.

Unlike Luca he did not stick to the business world for his cover, Tommy Shelby had bought himself a minor post in the government along with a wife who knew all the right people.

Eva found her grating, like nails on a chalkboard. Her ignorance could be forgiven, but there was just something about Grace Burgess that she just flat out disliked. Maybe her phoniness put her off.

“I do not suppose you will be taking up the arrangement your predecessor and I had before you did away with him?” the victor has no idea what to expect from him. While it was obvious his marriage was as cold as his eyes, not all men liked the idea of sticking to one mistress. The rumors of him and the secretary were true given her boyfriend was found murdered recently and his wife was also known for having her own secrets.

No one was sure who the son belonged to, both men had identical coloring and high cheekbones.

“He protected you from the rest of them, didn’t he?” Shelby lights a cigarette and does this thing where he rubs it against his lower lip that she finds interesting. Sexy even.

Jack wouldn’t like that, but Jack hates most men around her anyways.

“Yes, for the price of not fucking anyone else, I got everything I wanted and some more.” As far as these arrangements went, hers with Luca was perfect. If they had met in better circumstances, they would’ve made a great couple.

“A good thing he never learned about your affair with Jack Nelson.” His lips hide the smirk very well, but his eyes don’t. Speaks more with those eyes of his than his lips.

“Ah, so it was your work that night?” the security footage hadn’t been given to Luca so no one could prove what happened after Jack tore her diamond collar in the balcony. As far as Luca knew, Jack hated her for killing Laurie and was only nice when people were around. “I should thank you.”

“Thank me after you show me who would benefit most from a protector.” He suggests with contempt for the practice in every word.

“Cashmere, some pay for her and her brother and force them together.” Eva let her venom through. No one was supposed to know as incest was still as illegal as pedophilia, but all victors knew the sort of hell the siblings from 1 got. “Would you like for me to make the introduction, or do you think you can pretend this conversation never happened?”

Snow hated when victors meddled and tried to make it less awful for each other. Inspires rebellion, Luca told her once, if the districts knew we can all work together, Snow would fall from his throne.

That day cannot come soon enough.

“I can handle that, but I do have a favor to ask you.” He drinks his whiskey betraying nothing as he hands her his business card.

“Ask away.” These favors don’t work out for her, it’s how she ended up smuggling contraband for Luca in exchange for keeping her off the roster their first year together. But she finds herself trusting this stranger.

“Arrange a meeting with Gamemaker Heavensbee, your stylist and myself.” He doesn’t mean the current one, he means Tigris Snow.

It won’t be that difficult, Fulvia Cardew was a friend of Clemens and he must know how to reach Tigris. In fact, by the time Matty’s traumatic stress appears during fireworks show later that evening, its already scheduled.

Tommy Shelby doesn’t pay her back with flowers, clothing nor jewels, he pays her for the service with a deed to a small farm on the northern border of her district.

So close she could reach district 2 or even 11 by completely bypassing the guard towers along the border. If the fence wasn’t on, nothing would stop her from going or someone going out.

The question is: why?

[pirate-of-the-southern-isles]

Fanfic snippet - Nothing connects people better than a shared cell

To clarify, they are all in jail for the night, because things went south for everyone involved. For Layla and Hans it is nothing new, Kristoff is just a little stressed but Elsa and Anna are terrified, especially since Elsa is not able to just freeze everyone.

After brave Hetician's guards left the room, cursing both drunk students and damned spies, a very awkward silence developed.

"So... not everything went according to plan?" asked Hans, trying to contain the mischievous smile.

"Silence." Elsa advised, propping her head againt the cold, stone wall and, in the same time, holding Anna.

They were both in a disastrous state. For the last six hours the Heticians were grilling them both about being Nadernian's spies. Everytime they hoped they finally believe that it is all just a crazy amount of fatal coincidences, some of them just presented yet another one of "proofs" for their "crimes". At one point it was clear that Anna is starting to lose faith in her own words so Elsa decided to help - as soon as someone has finally patched up her arms. She was trying to sound stern and even a little mean, but she was exhausted and her whole body ached. As a result, no one has believed that they are, in fact, Arendellian queens. But, of course, everyone has been convinced that there may be something wrong with their heads. The only remaining question was - are they just crazy or is it just a decoy to avoid the responsibility for spying for Nadernia?

"Anna?" Kristoff tried to reach his wife's hand through the bars of his cell. "Is everything alright?".

"No, nothing is alright!" She sobbed, totally done with everything. Two rivers of tears just went down her cheeks. Her sister hugged her tighter. "We don't have any way to go back to Arendelle, and maybe that's for the best, because apparently our kingdom is better off governing itself, without our presence, and... And we've just murdered our own consul!"

"You what?!" Yelled three voices unisono.

"We showed him Olaf and he had a heart attack" Elsa explained. "And we did that because wanted to show that we are what we are".

"And... where is Olaf?" Kristoff asked.

"I think in some storage for material evidences" Anna responded. "It was so hot in the embassy he melted... And now we are carrying him around in a bucket".

Hans made sure to remember it, just in case.

"And where is Sven?" Asked Elsa, wiping her sister's face. "And seriously, Kristoff, what have you done?! Why are you here?!"

"Sven is safe and in good hands, I will pick him up tomorrow morning." He assured.

"No, you won't." Hans cut in immediately.

"Why?"

"Because we will all be there for at least fourty eight hours".

"What?!"

"Well, you, Layla and me. I don't know about them. I would need some details".

"We are going to be hanged!" Anna sobbed.

"What?!" Kristoff's face went completely white. "What for? The consul? You told us it was an accident!"

"I know, but then everything became so complicated...!"

It was obvious they won't get anything meaningful from trembling and crying Anna. Elsa was mainly busy with comforting her. Layla decided that they could use some lighter topics.

"Just as a side question... what, for all the seven seas, are you two wearing?"

It was just in this moment when Kristoff and Hans noticed the peculiar clothing.

"Ah... it's from a homeless shelter" Elsa murmured.

"From where?" Kristoff's eyes were just getting bigger and bigger.

"Well, in our clothes no one wanted to take us seriously... well. In those it was even worse".

"Of course it was, you look like you ran away from some circus!" Layla was giggling uncontrolably now. "You should have come to me, in my chests we would find something better".

Elsa looked at her discreetly. She had her doubts if any piece of Layla's - a head shorter but much wider in her chest - clothing would fit any of them.

"Well, maybe it wouldn't be suitable for royality, I admit, but it would still be better than... this". She was still laughing. "The nuns didn't like you two very much, I assume?".

"They... told us we look like seamstresses".

"Yeaaa, right. I can assure you, the seamstresses have their clothes much better matched!"

Anna and Elsa managed to smile a little. The younger one even stopped sobbing.

"Alright... but seriously, Kristoff?" She looked at her husband, eyes still wet and puffy but somewhat brighter. "What are you in here for?"

"Well, officialy for excessive drinking and wandering after curfew" he responded, a little red on his face and completely, utterly sober.

"Excessive drinking?!"

"Well... um... We were singing quite loudly and those nice guards thought..."

"With Hans?!"

"Oh, excuse me!" Said prince interrupted. "Husbands and reindeers abandoned in the docks are free to take for anyone after two hours! It isn't me who's making the rules!"

"That's true, that's the law!" Layla backed him up.

"Wasn't he going to the Library?!"

"I was, but it didn't go particulary well". Hans had no intention of losing his cool. "Terrible queues, horrible waiting time. We just took a small part of what I wanted. Those available to take immediately. Maybe I will go back when they will let us go from there. Anyway, Kristoff was with me, because he was hoping to meet you there, since you intended to see the Library too, right? Well, nevermind. After we were sent away with almost nothing, we went sightseeing. Beautiful city, awful University, wouldn't recommend."

"Yes, "awful University", but you would very much like to go to this conference, am I right?" Kristoff decided that since captain Westergaard started to talk himself, he may as well add something. Apparently, that part was not top secret.

"Of course I would! I have to go back and borrow some of those posters. It would make a great souvenir. Maybe I will take two and send one of them to the Isles. I wonder how they will like the topics of those lectures. I would die to see Caleb trying to justify some of his border incidents to them. And to see him promising he will lead us into the modern times". He couldn't hold his laugh anymore. "Seriously, I can't believe anyone would have such hopes for any of us, anytime!"

"What is he talking about...?" Anna slightly tilted her head.

Kristoff smiled and started to talk. He described everything, up to the moment when Hans decided he wants those books right there, right now and therefore they are going to go with breaking and entering into the Library. Before he could get onto this, the prince decided to continue for him and started to do what he could do the best - flipping the script.

"We've met Layla in the town, so it would be rude not to say hi..."

"And I know just the right place to do so!" Layla chimmed in immediately to cover for them.

"Exactly. We went and in the bar there were sailors from Heticia's navy. They were singing, so we joined them... We didn't even drink that much, but when we've decided to go back to the ship, we were still singing... We forgot the city is under martial law and even if it wasn't, we still should've have a light with us. So, that happened. My fault."

"And mine!" Layla admitted and tried to make the most regretful and miserable face possible. It didn't go well. "I am so very, very sorry for demoralizing your husband, Ma'am Highness". She knelt before Anna. "Here is my head. You can smack me in it, but I would prefer it to stay on my neck, if you may".

At this point Anna was completely comforted and amused already. She wiped the last tears away.

"I think... In the name of the kingdom of Arendelle I can forgive this faux pax". She said, pretending to be serious. "As long as it is the last time!".

"Oh, of course!" Layla didn't even bother to pretend she didn't just winked at Kristoff. He also laughed, feeling a little more confident, despite circumstances.

[cuccoamongdragons]

The Boy and The Heron Notes/Critique:

TLDR: LOVED the animation and it had some impactful themes, also strongly disliked several things.

(SPOILERS)

- War. Very common theme in Ghibli. Always animated with such a punch.

- Hold up, dad married his dead wife's SISTER??? Got her pregnant, and THEN decided to introduce his kid (Mahito) to her for the first time? As they were moving in with her??

- Mahito's aunt/stepmom decides her first-time introduction should be "I'm your new mom." and to grab his hand and make him feel her pregnant belly?

- This kid is so shut down all he does is say yes and keep his head low, trying to avoid conversation & confrontation. He's still clearly grieving and showing some signs of PTSD from the fire. None of the adults address this if they even notice.

- Dad continues to be tone-deaf by insisting on dropping Mahito off to his new, poorer & more blue-collar school, in a fancy ride. He showed up looking like a rich kid who's never worked a day in his life to a place full of children who work all day. Dad put a target on his back.

- Mahito self-harmed and pretended it was from the fight earlier. This is two-fold. It meant he didn't have to go back to that school, and it was an outlet for all the hard feelings he didn't have a safe place to express. Dad does what rich-kid/bad parents do: throws money at the problem, and takes it personally instead of focusing on the kid.

- 2/3 of the first things Mahito takes an interest in are scary or forbidden. The Heron is a horrifying creature, the tower is forbidden, and then there's archery. For the 1st time we get something Mahito could connect with his aunt/stepmom on as a shared interest. But they don't.

- Why did the Heron shit in his window?

- Aunt/Stepmom has a hard time with labor and everyone pressures Mahito to go comfort her. Everything in his body language and behavior indicates he doesn't know her, he's uncomfortable, and he doesn't want to. It's not his responsibility.

- One of the old ladies get some serious character fleshing out. Oh wow I ADORE her. A++ Development.

- The Heron not being voiced by Danny Devito feels like a crime. Bird discovers that sometimes even though you're mostly not a nice being, sometimes someone will still love you.

- Pelicans and commiting violence out of desperation, terrifying self-awareness of the impact on next generations.

- Mahito meets his mom through time shenanigans. They DID NOT have a rehash of the romantic issues around When Marnie Was There. His mom gives off mom vibes and is likeable. Feels like he never gets a full closure kind of conversation with her. (His original reason for going to the tower.)

- Implication that Great Uncle was the death that pulled Mahito's mom into the tower for closure. While for Mahito it was wanting closure about his mom, and then doing the right thing trying to save his aunt/stepmother.

- Haha big murder-birds parakeets.

- Telling a Great Uncle/ancestor that Mahito sees what is left to add to the legacy and it's corrupted.

- The only way to get Aunt/Stepmom home is to give her the unearned & undeveloped "crying for mom" by Mahito. Literally after she told him she hated him. An adult screaming in her stepkids' face that she hates him. And it was rewarded by him calling her mom. In front of his actual mother who he's had nothing but a good relationship build with the whole time.

- Letting a family legacy turn to nothing because it's become unhealthy. Breaking the cycle and the guts it takes to do that. Helping others (pelicans/parakeets) break the cycle in turn

- SO MUCH BIRD SHIT. On everyone, and they're calling it cute & laughing. (Also what happened to active labor??) Why is there so much bird shit in this movie???

- Door is open for Mahito to make his own tower with the stone he kept & talisman of the old woman but we're not going to think too hard about that.

- And then they all left to go back to the city.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Dark!Aemond x oc (Snow falls) Chapter 24: The dining room 18+

CONCEPT: You are Willa Wyldewoods, lady of Wyldecrest. After being denied your hand in marriage, Aemond murders your family and makes himself Lord of WyldeCrest, out-powering you. He claims you as his wife and spoils, He commands and goes over your home now and as you will learn right now: No one is safe under his reign. Not even you

WARNINGS: Non-con, smut 18+ dark!aemond and slight bookaemond.

I enter the diner room. My brother is eating a delicious roasted pig and he is not alone. My grandfather and my mother are present as is my sister. I feel bad that my sister will see this. I do.

But I have no choice. Aegon does not seem to notice I brought something. None of them even react to me entering a room. No one announces me. I feel as a ghost visiting a family that never appreciated me. Aegon finally takes notices and grins. "So, little brother. You are back soon from your adventure." He tells me with a exaggerated wink.

My sweet sister looks at me with innocence. "Did Aemond go on a adventure? Where did he go?" She asks her husband.

That pig only grins. "He went to a magical place where a wife's word means nothing. You perhaps know it well from the few times we've been together, my darling wife." He speaks, silencing her for good. Helaena absently stares at her untouched vegetables and tears up silently.

Aegon ignores her when my mother tries her best to not comfort her daughter. "So, my brother. Did that little slut finally made you cum? Aurelia is a good whore. She can teach Willa a lot. And Willa can teach her a lot about innocence and proper manners. It is a good exchange fo have them tumble with each other."

I lift Aurelia's head before tossing it in his lap. "Here, catch." I tell him. Horrified, he misses as the head dryly drops on the ground leaving a bit of blood.

Aegon shrieks before raising to his chair. "Are you mad?!" He shouts at me. "That was a gift! Willa will never make you happy! Not on her own!" He knows nothing about me. He never did. He knows nothing about anything.

My grandfather is disgusted. "Aemond, why did you bring this to our dinner table? You have killed this sweet innocent girl?"

I remain completely unmoved. "There was nothing innocent about her. She touched my wife. I don't appreciate others touching my wife."

"I will fuck your wife in her ass for your treason!" Aegon screams when rising his sword. Helaena starts to cry louder and burst into sobs as I avoid Aegon's sword, fending him off with my own.

My grandfather rises from his chair. "Enough! Both of you! Drop your weapons!" He shouts at us. Aegon stupidly does as he commands. I do not lower my sword until his is on the ground. "Aegon, Aemond's wife is his. You have all sort of playthings and whores but you will remain from bothering Willa again." Haha.

"And Aemond, what you just did can be considered treason. You do best to remember not to make any mistakes like this in the future." There are no mistakes.

Aegon is still seething, the fool. He loved Aurelia deeply."He killed my precious flower. I will kill his wife."

My grandfather gets more annoyed ever moment this fool speaks."You will do no such thing, you fool. We need Willa to hold the North. Her house supports us with bannermen and supplies. We have no to little houses in the North."

"Leave that us. Willa and me will soon start a campaign making sure all those traitors bend the knee to..." Ugh. "You, my king." I speak full of fake loyalty. I will return to that frozen shitland with my wife and my dragon. They will either bend...

Or they will burn. Aegon sees my offer and gives me a final warning before ending the discussion."Touch one my toys again, and I will take Willa's head."

I snicker inside but keep my face composed. "I have already made it so that Aurelia is named a traitor and a support to Rhaenyra. She killed dozens of our own guards, loyal servants alike." I tell the king.

He nods approving that we will deal a blow to our sister. They will hate her that whore. I bet she is happy fucking Daemon's cock now. He is weak. He should have taken her crown from her. He is her husband after all.

Helaena softly speaks up. "Brother, may I speak?" I soften my hardend scowl. She is asking me. She is my queen in title and right.

"Of course, your grace. You are far above me. As is your husband, our king." I speak. She carefully touches her necklace. Her spider necklace.

"How will we fake that our people are killed? How will we do that?" She whispers. She always knows my answer.

We won't fake anything. We will hire a group of assassins. We will dress them as the disgusting scum Daemon associates with. And they will make sure that if that whore sets foot in King's Landing again, she is dragged off by her pretty silver hair and raped to death in a ally.

Helaena tears up horrified. "My queen. Perhaps you should leave. Talk of war seems to upset you." I tell her softy.

My mother is outraged by my suggestion. She always had a gentle heart. Most women do. Which is why men lead wars. "Aemond. We will not kill our own servants.' I roll my eyes at her. We won't kill our servants. We won't.

"Only the one the guards suspect of treason. I have a feeling there is still disloyalty left in the castle."

Aegon nods intrigued by my ruthless plan. I add with a smirk. "We will give our slaughtered traitors a big grant funeral, for their families. They will be bestowed hero titles and their families will be given rewards. We will make King's Landing love us more than they love that excuse of a whore that calls herself Queen.' Helaena stands up after this and leaves the room, wiping her eyes.

I ignore her. Aegon smirks at me, having forgotten all about that whore and his wife. "Let the slaughter begin."

[writerunblocked]

Slipping Through my Fingers

Synopsis: Cillian Murphy and his wife Yvonne got the shock of a life time when they took in their six-year-old niece Y/N after Cillian's little sister and her husband died in a car accident. Now on he wedding day, Cill thinks back through the years and how much she's grown. Based on the ABBA song 'Slipping Through My Fingers'

Trigger Warnings: Car accident, death and dying

WC: 2040

Cillian had broken down on the phone when his wife had called him giving him the horrible news that his little sister Madhbh and his good friend and Madhbh’s husband Tom were murdered by a drunk driver when they were coming home. Their five-year-old daughter, Y/N had been the only survivor of the crash. Cillian was on the first flight out to Dublin where he was greeted by his wife Yvonne and then rushed straight to the hospital where Y/N was. 

As they were on their commute to the hospital, it was Yvonne who said it. “We’re taking Y/N.” 

Cillian looked at his beautiful fiancée and nodded his head, holding back tears. The thought of little Y/N being orphaned at such a young age brought tears to his eyes. No one could ever replace Madhbh and Tom, but it was truly what was best for little Y/N. His parents weren’t able to care for her, Tom didn’t speak to his family due to reasons that he was never comfortable talking about, and his siblings were just starting their lives. He couldn’t let little Y/N go into foster care. 

“Then we need to get a room ready for her,” he said. “We need to figure out how we get her to London as well.” 

Y/N pulled through, but the Murphys were forever scared by the loss of the youngest one. The only thing they had left of Madhbh and Tom was Y/N, and they had to be strong for her. 

And though the first two years were rough. Y/N crying for her parents, the Murphys struggling to move on with the Madbhbh and Tom-shaped holes in their hearts while doing what was right by Y/N had taken its toll on all of them. They had taken her to therapy in order to help her cope with the adjustment of her parents dying. Y/N’s first birthday without Madbhbh and Tom was something the whole family was dreading. But Madhbh got a cake, she got a few presents, though she didn’t seem too interested in them. Her eyes scanned for her parents, only for Madbhbh and Tom to never walk in the door. And though the adults would never admit it, so were they. 

Life was bittersweet for Cillian and Yvonne as they watched Y/N grow up. As Y/N grew older, she looked more and more like her mother Madhbh, but she had Tom’s mischievous smile which both Yvonne and Cillian knew would get her far and get her into trouble. When Cillian and Yvonne married two years later, both of them expected Madhbh and Tom to be there. Only to find little Y/N sitting right next to Cillian’s cousin smiling. 

When their oldest son came the next year. Yvonne and Cillian found themselves making sure Y/N didn’t feel replaced. And they did the same thing when their next and final child came along not too long after their oldest. Though to them, though they’d never tell Y/N, she would be their oldest. But they could never replace her parents, nor did they want to. 

Life with three kids was hard. The kids outnumbered the adults. Y/N had inherited her mother’s unique ability to rile people up for her own amusement and then watch the aftermath. Something Madbhbh had done in childhood to purposefully set off Páidi and Cillian. She also just seemed to watch the world burn as she riled up her cousins to be able to watch the fallout. But other than that, she was a good big sister and a nice girl. 

When Y/N started school, Yvonne and Cillian were sitting there on their couch worried sick. She was growing up. She had her school bag in hand, her hair swept back into a ponytail. In her striped school uniform, Cillian snapped photos of her like any parent would on their child’s first first day of school. But he couldn’t help but feel guilty. 

Working as an actor made it hard for Cillian as well. He was away from the family for long periods of time, leaving Yvonne to manage the house and the kids alone. He missed his wife, he missed Y/N, he missed his sons, and he felt terrible for leaving Yvonne alone with the three of them. 

Cill thought back to when he was home. “Yeah,” Cill said. “I’ll be leaving in three months to film a TV series.” 

“What series?” Y/N asked as she got up and brought him a glass of water. Now eleven, she looked even more like her mother. “You’re hardly ever here, Uncle Cill.” 

Cillian sighed. He’d gotten used to this since Y/N was able to register that he was always gone. “I know,” he sighed. “But you guys can come visit me.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes at him as his sons groaned. “What’s it about?” 

Cillian was amazed that she was taking an interest in what his newest projects were. “It’s about a gang in Birmingham at the end of the First World War and how they navigate everything that comes after.” Y/N nodded her head, he could tell that she thought it was interesting. “And you can’t watch it until you’re thirteen, Y/N.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. Knowing Y/N, he knew that she’d figure out a way to watch it just because he told her ‘no.’ A trait she inherited from her father. 

As the years went by and the family moved back to Ireland, a relief for Y/N, Yvonne, and Cillian who were moving closer to family. But a new and terrifying thing for Cillian and Yvonne’s kids, as they had lived in England their entire lives. 

As Y/N entered her teenage years, she became sort of a wild child. She would go out to parties, she’d come home late at night. She’d never leave her room unless it was for food or the occasionally ‘grunting’ hello at family members. She’d roll her eyes, she’d groan, but it all came to a head when she came home late completely rat-arsed. 

“WHERE WERE YOU?” shouted Yvonne. 

Cill and Yvonne were up all night, pacing and worrying about Y/N. Her mother wasn’t much of a partier, yet here Y/N was, out at all hours of the night and stumbling home sloshed. 

“Relax, Auntie Yvonne,” Y/N slurred. “I was out with a few people.” 

“YOU WERE SUPPOSSED TO BE HOME BY 10!” She hollered. She then sighed when she looked at Y/N. “God, Y/N, you’ll be the death of me.” She went in and hugged her.

But Y/N wriggled out of Yvonne’s arms and ran straight towards the bathroom, the sound of puking could be heard. Cill thought back to his younger years when he’d go out with his friends and throw up after a long night out. Y/N went straight to bed after that. And much to Yvonne and Cill’s shock and amazement, Y/N wasn’t hung over. She seemed to be immune to them. 

Y/N’s punishment was spending time with Cill for the weekend and not being allowed to go out with her friends. But he could tell that she was secretly happy to spend time just the two of them. 

“We don’t do this anymore,” she pointed out as they walked around Dublin. Cillian had suggested (or as the family called the ‘ice cream bat signal’) to get ice cream and Y/N happily accepted the invitation. “You’re hardly ever home anymore.” She sounded defeated. “I know you go away a lot for your job, but the boys miss you.” 

Cillian sighed and though he knew Y/N would never admit that she missed him until she was older, he knew she missed him too. This was the hardest part of being an actor. He was away a lot, leaving the three of them alone. It was something he’d forever feel guilty for. “I miss you guys too.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Congratulations, Y/N, Anderson Cooper would be proud.” 

Y/N’s look of bewilderment was something that Cillian smiled at. That look she’d inherited from her father, even though she was her mother’s twin in looks and personality. She opened her mouth and then closed it. She was at a loss for words.

“Uncle Cill,” she said softly and timidly. “Uh, please don’t be mad at me.” 

Cill’s head started spinning. What was wrong? What what did she do? He wondered. But the look in Y/N’s eyes told him that she was terrified. “What is it, Y/N?” 

“I’m bi,” she whispered. 

Cill breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought that something bad had happened to you.” He hugged her. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Y/N.” 

The sigh of relief on her face was something Cill understood.  

When Y/N embarked across the ocean to go to school, Cillian and Yvonne were incredibly nervous as they moved her into the dorms in Philadelphia. She enjoyed the US, she enjoyed Philadelphia. It also gave the family an excuse to go to America, as the boys were nagging their parents to go for a while.

Three years later, Y/N would meet a man in one of her classes. The two would grow close and end up dating. Now, Cillian, Yvonne, and their two sons were in Philly for more than just visiting Y/N, they were meeting her boyfriend. 

Cillian, like any father, was nervous about how he treated her. He hoped that his daughter had found a nice man who loved and cherished her. And by the way she spoke about him to them, he did. 

“Are we there yet?” asked his oldest son as Yvonne drove. Cillian, looking out the window as his wife made the wrong turn and went over the Ben Franklin Bridge into New Jersey, was now understanding why Y/N didn’t like Jersey drivers. Yvonne was gripping the wheel of the car. 

“We’re in New Jersey,” Cill responded. 

“Why doesn’t it smell?” asked his youngest son. “Y/N calls it the ‘armpit of America’.” 

“Because it does tend to smell,” Yvonne stated. They managed to turn around and get back to Pennsylvania. They drove to the restaurant, parked, and then got out to meet the two of them at the table.

The man, better known as Jack, got up and greeted him by shaking his hand. He called him ‘Mr Murphy’, even though Cill had told him to ‘call him Cill,’ the young man persisted. They talked and got to know each other. After two hours, they left. Cill smiled at Yvonne, glad that Y/N had found someone who loved her. It also helped with the boys that 

Years went by, Cill’s family met Jack’s family who were wonderful people. Both Jack’s parents were from Ireland as well. They emigrated to the US in the 80s and never left, becoming naturalised citizens. The two would later marry and then divorce. They would go on to marry wonderful people who Cill was thankful Jack had in his life. They did a wonderful job raising him. 

Now, a few years later, Y/N was walking down the aisle. Jack would be at the end of it. The two of them were so nervous. Cill stood next to her, trying hard not to cry. Yvonne, who’d gone dress shopping with her, was also on the other arm. 

“Repeat after me,” the priest said. Jack’s parents were “Jack O’Brian, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honour her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” 

“I do,” Jack smiled. 

As Y/N blushed as the priest turned toward her. After they said the formalities. The priest responded with: “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” 

Jack and Y/N kissed, smiling as they pulled away. And as Cill sat there, all he could think was how the time had slipped through his fingers.

[fandomficsnstuff]

Wolves And Hounds - 17

(Warnings: Some sad angst a bit of blood and death, a little more angst with a hint of fluff sprinkled in it for flavour lol)

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

Karliah was silent as she just stared ahead, unshed tears in her eyes that had been there for hours now, her heart barely beating as she just-... stared, looking straight ahead, Arya’s head in her lap, the girl finally having fallen asleep, the moon high in the sky yet Karliah didn’t sleep. “You should rest” Sandor spoke but she didn’t even seem to react, not even acknowledge that he was there. “Are you listening? You need to get some rest, I’m not going to drag around the both of you” Sandor snapped, his heart racing a little as once again she didn’t even seem to know that he was there. “Karli-”

“Mother, father, Brandon, Ned, Catelyn, Robb, Lyanna, Jory, Robert, Bran, Rickon, Sansa, Jon, Benjen… when will it end?” she asked with a hollow look on her face and Sandor felt a pang of unease run through him, he wanted to comfort her, truly, he did, but he couldn’t. How the hell could he? “Just-... get some sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning-”

“I can’t… every time I close my eyes, I see my nephew’s head replaced by his own direwolf’s… I imagine my sister-in-law and how she died… if there was pain… Sansa is in King’s Landing, surrounded by enemies who want to do her harm… Ned is dead, Robb is dead, Brandon, mother, father, Lyanna, Catelyn… they’re all dead too… so is Robert… Benjen is a man of the Night’s Watch, so is Jon now… Brandon and Rickon are-... only the Gods know where, probably alone, scared… all my family… they’re either long gone or dead…” Karliah whispered quietly, a tear finally, finally, running down her cheek and she slowly turned her head to look at Sandor. “I have nothing left… no one… only Arya… only you and Arya” she muttered, looking down at a sleeping Arya, the tears first now beginning to roll down in streams. She knew Sandor would be uncomfortable with this, but she couldn’t help it… she tried to but she just couldn’t, she didn’t have the strength to hold back her soft cries. Suddenly she felt a hand on her cheek, moving under her wet chin that was stained with her tears and he lifted her head to look up at him, her eyes big and shining from her tears and he hesitated before letting go of her chin and taking her right hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing the back of it softly, slowly, a chaste kiss that was featherlight and her heart stopped, her eyes moving to her hand before looking back up at him again. “Is this-... j-just to make me stop crying?” she asked hesitantly, more tears filling her eyes when he sheepishly shook his head and she couldn’t help but smile. “I love you, too” she whispered, trying to wipe her eyes but Sandor hadn’t let go of her hand, leaving her only with one hand to wipe both eyes and cheeks. “Sandor, I might need my hand back at some point” she whispered jokingly and he quickly let go of her hand, ears burning red as he scoffed and walked back to where he had been sitting before, Karliah wiping her eyes and cheeks, still smiling a little, before looking back down at a sleeping Arya. She gently stroked back Arya’s dirty hair, letting out a shaky sigh as she just-... watched her… watched her sleep. As though every breath she took would be her last and Karliah was ready to give up her life for her little niece. “‘Why are the Gods so cruel?’... It’s what I’d ask myself after my sister died… ‘why her? She was good and kind and fierce. Why her?’... and now I’m sitting with my niece, watching the fall and murder of my house and family and all I can think to ask is ‘why?’... I haven’t thought about the Gods for sixteen years, not really…”

“I’m no good with Gods” Sandor grumbled quietly, a softness to his voice that was so unlike him, but not unfamiliar when it was aimed at his lady wife. “The Gods are cunts” she muttered with bitter amusement, looking over her shoulder at Sandor who had a tiny hint of a smirk on his lips, amused by her words. “‘S no talk for a lady-”

“Oh, have a lot of experience on how a lady should act, have you?” she asked with a smirk, seemingly enjoying getting him flustered or annoyed. “You married the Wild Wolf of the North, Sandor Clegane… a woman who went to war as a man, to save her sister, to avenge her father and brother… I’m nothing like any lady” she admitted the last bit with a hint of sadness, maybe even regret, looking down at Arya in her lap, gently stroking her dirty hair and Sandor watched her as she did so. He watched the way she tenderly stroked her niece’s hair, the light touch of her hands, barely hovering, her movements precise and smooth and soft so she wouldn’t wake the girl in her lap, the girl that had spent hours sobbing in her arms before passing out. She was so… gentle… the soft glow of the fire illuminating her features as she looked down at her sleeping niece, a soft smile on her lips that he knew she wasn’t even aware of, eyes filled with love and he was reminded of the way she often touched him. The same care and gentle touch as her fingers would skim over his burnt flesh, silently assuring him that she wasn’t afraid, disgusted or shocked by the sight of it, or the feel of it. It was part of him. And she loved him. All of him.

Just as he loved all of her.

------------------------------------------------------------

Karliah was quiet as she sat behind Sandor on the horse, the poor creature carrying three people at once with Arya in the front, Sandor in the saddle and Karliah behind him, but getting another horse wasn’t a priority at the slaughter back at the Frey bridge… getting out of there was. Getting Arya out. She heard the sound of voices, men chuckling around a campfire, and the second she saw them, her entire body tensed. She gripped Sandor’s arm tightly, her muscles tense, a look of utter fury on her face as she clenched her jaw. It took every inch of her not to jump off the horse and strangle the men one by one by their guts. The Frey men. Though it seemed that Arya lacked that self restraint as the second she heard about what they’d done to Robb… his direwolf’s head… how one of the men boasted out stitching it onto Robb’s headless body, she slid off of the horse before either Sandor or Karliah could stop her. “Seven Hells” Karliah hissed under her breath, reaching past Sandor to the horse’s reins, pulling them to stop the horse and he glared lightly at her but she wasn’t even looking at him, her eyes fixated on Arya as she talked with the men. At first she was a little disturbed at how easily Arya pretended to be cold and hungry, and not who she truly was, but she felt herself… approving?... She wasn’t sure but she softly and subtly slid Sandor’s knife out of it’s sheath on his hip under his cloak, Sandor gripping her wrist before she could retract it “what are you doing?” he asked in a hiss but she kept her eyes on the Frey men and her niece “what I need to” she whispered calmly and he hesitantly let go of her wrist, allowing her to take the dagger as she slid off the horse, smoothly and quietly.

She slowly and quietly walked over, Arya glancing behind the Frey men to see her aunt, the fiery look in her eyes and the dagger in her hand, the way she walked and held herself, ready to attack and Arya felt a rush of relief. She approved. As the man bent down to pick up the coin she’d dropped, Arya began to stab him wildly, Karliah hurriedly grabbing the man nearest to her, grabbing him under his jaw and plunged the knife into him repeatedly, blood covering her hands as she felt tears sting the corners of her eyes, her breathing heavy and a little erratic. She watched his lifes’ blood pour from him from every stab wound and she pushed him aside once she felt satisfied that he wouldn’t get back up, running at a Frey with his sword raised over Sandor, tackling him to the ground, pinning him down as she plunged the knife into him over and over again, stabbing him in the gut so many times that blood splattered on her face. As she heard Sandor ask Arya if it was the first man she’d ever killed, she stood up, panting heavily, stumbling a little towards Arya, pulling her against her side, taking the knife from her “where did you get that knife?” she asked quietly, Arya still staring at the man she’d killed. “From your husband” she muttered emotionlessly and Karliah frowned, reaching over to Sandor and pulling away his cloak to where she knew he had a second dagger, finding it empty and she sighed heavily, giving both knives to Sandor before turning to Arya. “Next time… tell us before doing something like that again” Karliah asked softly, leaning down and pecking Arya’s head before looking over her shoulder, looking for her husband only to sigh heavily when she found him. Eating the food the dead men had prepared. Of course. The sight actually managed to make her smile a little, a sense of normality amongst the chaos. It was soothing, in a morbid kind of way.

Arya gently took Karliah’s sticky hands into her own, making her look back at her niece, Arya studying the blood on her aunt’s hands before looking up at her “you didn’t have to” she muttered, Karliah almost scoffing, sighing softly at her niece “you didn’t either.”

“So why did you?”

“Why did you?” she countered, giving her a weak smile before looking down at the ground, leaning down and picking up the coin Arya had dropped, a frown forming on her brows as she looked at it. “Where did you get this?” she asked quietly, looking down at Arya who seemed like she was trying to hide something “Arry. I know when you’re hiding something” she pointed out and Arya sighed “don’t be mad, please… It was from a man. Jaqen H’ghar. He helped me and Gendry and Hot Pie and he gave me that… said that all I needed was to give that to someone from Braavos and-”

“Arya” Karliah stopped her, studying Arya closely as she looked up at her with desperation before sighing, looking back at the coin. She studied it a while longer and Arya was on the verge of begging her not to take the coin away, not to confiscate it, but then she handed her the coin, stuck between her two fingers as it was offered to her. “Did he tell you what to say?” she asked quietly, Arya frowning at her with slight confusion before nodding, reaching up to take the coin, locking her fingers around it but Karliah still held onto it. “Valar Morghulis…” Arya stated, Karliah hesitating before sighing, letting her take the coin “Valar Dohaeris” she responded in a whisper before looking over her shoulder at Sandor, making sure he wasn’t listening in before looking at Arya. “Do you know what it means? Valar Dohaeris means; ‘All men must serve.’. Valar Morghulis means; ‘All men must die.’” Karliah educated before looking down at the coin in Arya’s hands, her heart racing a little as she looked at it, studying it. “You’re not mad at me?” Arya asked innocently and Karliah looked at her, frowning at her before shaking her head “no. No, sweet Arya, I’m not mad at you. I worry… the man who gave you that coin, who told you those words…”

“I-I know what he is. A faceless man” Arya stated and Karliah sighed heavily, again, “then you know that this coin isn’t something to wave around. Luckily many in Westeros don’t know anything about Essos other than the ocean in between… keep it safe… and don’t flaunt it” she ordered quietly, Arya nodding softly, Karliah leaning down to peck the top of her head before walking over to where Sandor sat, Arya staring at the coin a little longer, glancing at the gurgling man in front of her feet before turning around to join her aunt and Sandor.

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Not even the stench of the dead they rode through seemed to wake up Karliah as she leaned against Sandor’s back, her eyes shut and she had cleverly used Sandor’s sword belt to stay on the horse. She’d reached around him, holding him, and tucked her hand into and in between his armour and the belt, making sure it wasn’t crushing her hand before she drifted off, an all around clever solution. It had been maybe an hour or so since she dozed off, not that there was a lot of conversation going on before then, but Arya had begun to miss it, miss hearing her aunt’s voice even though she couldn’t look at her, the big lump of meat called ‘Sandor’ being in the way, that is. “When am I going to get my own horse?”

“The little Lady wants a pony.”

“The little Lady wants away from your stench, I don’t know how my aunt can stand it.”

“Horses aren’t easy to come by. Even if they were, do you think I’m going to put you on your own horse? Watch the only thing of value I’ve got left in the world ride away?”

“What about my aunt? Isn’t she worth something to you?”

“Your aunt is my wife” he replied gruffly and Arya frowned with slight confusion. “Well, don’t you have any money, then? Didn’t you steal anything from Joffrey when you left?”

“No, I was busy. Your aunt didn’t make it easy. Had to knock her out to get her out of there” he admitted with annoyance “so you didn’t steal any money from Joffrey? You’re not very smart, are you?”

“I’m not a thief.”

“You’re fine with murdering little boys and kidnapping someone but thieving is beneath you?”

“A man’s gotta have a code.”

“You think I’m going to escape? Where would I go? I’d be dead by nightfall without you and my aunt. All my family except my aunt is gone. I’ve got no one but her. I’m not going to leave her with you.”

“You’ve got an aunt in the Vale. Your rich aunt Lysa. After I sell you to her, maybe she’ll have enough left over for that pony you want so much.”

“And my aunt is just fine with you selling me??” Arya asked, looking up at him and how he sighed, looking away, avoiding her question which made her realise something. “She doesn’t know, does she? She thinks you’re taking me to the Vale for her” she muttered, Sandor glaring lightly at her as a large grin began to spread on her lips. “Stop smiling. It makes me uneasy.”

“Not as much as my aunt finding out, I bet” she stated with amusement as she looked ahead again, Sandor rolling his eyes, seriously considering if the girl was really worth all this trouble… and then he felt Karliah twitch a little behind him, his heart racing, wondering if she was waking up and had heard their conversation, but in the end she just snuggled a bit closer to him while still asleep, his heart slowing down once more and he sighed a little. Seven Hells, not even the fucking Gods could save him now.

[anonymous-existences]

@demonic0angel, EDA. This is the last ping for today I promise....

Anyways

Congratulations. No no. Not the greeting. THE HAMILTON SONG..YES. WELCOME, I SHALL DO THIS ONCE MORE!! THIS IS THE REAL CONTINUATION FOR YOUR FIRST BURN!! >:33

THIS TIME. In ACTUAL lines.... Yes yes... We shall BATHE IN ANGST!!!

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

"Jason..." Danny said, leaning on Jason's door frame, looking at him with his ever so soft smiling expression.

"Danny..." Jason almost sighed in relief, maybe he's there to comfort him? Maybe he's there to know if it's all tru—

"Congratulations. You have invented a new kind of stupid." Danny shoved divorce papers from Jazz to Jason's Chest. "The damage you can't undo kind of stupid." He continued walking in and past him.

"Open all the cages in the zoo kind of stupid, truly you didn't think this through kind of stupid." Danny turns his head around, a glare piercing through Jason, as he stared down at the divorce papers in his hands.

"let's Review, 'Jason Todd, Recklessly going out with another woman whilst being publicly known to be married to Jasmine Fenton-Todd, a Renowned Psychologist and who Gotham deems as 'Alley's Angel'. By V. Vale.' I begged you to take a break but this is not what I meant for you to do." Danny scoffed, holding back the tears threatening to tear down his defenses.

"I thought so much about how you were the best for dear jazz, I had to hold back Dan from commiting mass murder because of you too, Because you retaliated to these articles with aggression ever like before and with this it became severe! And now it seems You're the only enemy you ever seen to lose to, you know why the other bats can do what they want? It's because they don't dignify schoolyard taunts with a response! So yeah Congratulations." Danny all said breathing out in Anger... He's holding himself back.

"Danny..." Jason breathed out nervously. His breathe trembling.

"You've redefined your reputation! Congratulations." Danny laughed sarcastically.

"I was trying to clear my name—" Jason tried to reason on why he responded aggressively at first but Danny just shot him a glare which made Jason freeze.

"Clear your name...?" Danny scoffed, his arms crossed. "I Sacrificed everything, including my feelings to show my sister that she's my everything, Only to read her letters. I look back and think of our lives oh where did it get us, It doesn't wipe the tears of the years away and I'm back here in the city and I'm here to stay, and you know what I'm here to do..?" Danny raised an eyebrow as Jason approached closer.

"Danny..." He muttered softly, sounding confused.

"I'm not here for you.." Danny grit his teeth and gripped Jason's Wrist away from Danny's cheek.

"I know my sister like I know my own mind, you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind.. and a million years ago she said to me 'this one's mine'. so I stood by.. do you know why?!" Danny finally let his tears break through, unable to keep his emotions to himself longer.

"I love my sister more than anything this life! I will choose her happiness over mine! Everytime. My Jasmine... She's the BEST thing in our lives. So never lose sight of the fact you have been blessed WITH THE BEST WIFE!..." Danny breathed out. Taking a deep breathe as he walked to the door leaving Jason behind him.

"Congratulations." Danny said one last time before slamming the door behind him as he left Jason behind.

@demonic0angel I have a feeling you'll love this prompt, perhaps a backstory plot point of your First Burn Prompt :3.

DCxDP Prompt 14:

Song Prompt Inspiration : Satisfied From Hamilton, I made first burn but that's just very angsty... Why not make it MORE angsty but different ships.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Danny and Jazz happens to travel to Gotham to visit Dan, Danny and Jazz are inseparable siblings, both going to the same college and graduating together too. Vowing to never Seperate from each other and always have one another's back.

Dan himself was successful, became the heir to Dalv Co. Brought him many things but with the price of being forced to play nice in Galas. Danny and Jazz were both invited along with Dan to a Wayne gala, Dan begrudgingly attended as he always does and Danny and Jazz were happy to accompany Dan.

— — — — — — —

There Danny Met, Jason Todd. Danny felt themselves click, getting along with many topics and Danny felt himself falling for him, they felt like a match and Danny's core approved of this Man, He's a bit of a flirt but he'll give it a chance. He wants to take him far away from this place yet when he turns to see his sister's face and she is helpless.

God. Ancients. Danny felt his heart clench, he kept a smile on his face as he approached his sister, he kept his smile, he needed to keep it, he loved his sister and she...

She's fallen in love too with the same man, Danny did what any good brother would do, Introducing their Sister to the person they've fallen for. Danny felt his heart break and shatter but it was fine, Dan noticed it but didn't press anything out of Danny but merely comforted Danny as he cried in Dan's arms in private.

Ancients, Danny felt stupid for falling Inlove so fast but he can't help it, it was the first time he's met someone who's just like him, it was the first time he's fallen Inlove so fast and so hard for Someone but he loves and treasures jazz more.

He knew if he told jazz that she fell Inlove for that person she'd let HIM go to him and take him but Danny didn't want her to be heartbroken, he can't take the thought of Jazz being heartbroken, He'd rather be the one to be so than his beloved sister.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Everything happened so fast in Danny's perspective, Jason And Jazz got closer and now they're getting married.. Danny felt both proud and heartbroken, he can't choose which really but fuck does he feel so happy for his sister even if he is hurting.

He became her Groom of Honor, Danny was so happy to see his sister getting married to her love, he was so happy that she finally found love. But Ancients... It still hurts so goddamn much.