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the-fiction-witch · 3 months ago

Text

White Rose

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Gwayne Hightower Couple - Gwayne X Reader (uncle and Neice) Reader - Y/n (Neice) Rating - 18+ Fondling/ fingering / nipple play/ nipple sucking / nudity/ incest/ forced orgasm/ breast play/ bj/ hand jobs/ manipulation/ Word Count - 3195

Requested -

hello dear, i wanted to say that you fic are all amazing ♥️ can you please write one where gwayne is the sworn protector of reader who is alicent's daughter. alicent has committed herself to making sure that she is away from the world for her safety and the result is that she is very naïve. one of reader's friend got pregnant without being marry, so she goes to gwayne to ask how can a woman make children. and gwayne ask reader to undress, and he undress too, to explain her. he encourage her to touch and suck his dick, and after he say that when she will be pregnant her breast (which are already big) will be full of milk, so he suck her tits while massaging her pussy 😩

Y/n sat at the window of her tower looking out at the ships leaving the harbour, she sighed as she sat there.

“Uncle Gwayne?” She cooed,

“Yes, white rose?” He cooed as he stood beside her seat, looming beside her sword at his hip,

“Can I go outside and watch the ships?”

“You know what your mother says,”

“I cannot…”

“You cannot,” he told her, “You know you cannot leave the your room let alone the keep.”

Y/n sighed, “Please Uncle Gwayne…” She begged,

“I’m sorry white rose, but you cannot.” He said, “I wouldn’t be much of a sworn protector if I went against your mother’s commands.”

“But Mother commands too much,” She pouted getting to her feet to pace, “I am only allowed to leave my room for social occasions, I must wear these endless layers, I am never allowed on my own even to bathe and sleep, it is not fair.” she pouts lying on her bed face down,

He sighed and went over, “I know it is not fair, but you are my white rose. You must be protected from all those bad things out there,” he cooed stroking her hair,

“But I have you,” she turns to look at him,

“You do, but there are things in this world even I can’t protect you from,” he said, “Hey, come on, how about I call one of your ladies in waiting up and you two can have some cake,”

She gently nodded,

“Right away,” he cooed kissing her head and going to arrange it for her,

Y/n sat for tea and cake with one of her ladies-in-waiting, The lady linaena of House Lannister. The lady was only two years older than Y/n but acted and appeared far older given her knowledge and experience when compared to Y/n. But as soon as she arrived Y/n noticed something odd about her friend, she seemed to sit strangely, to often grimace or squeeze her eyes tight in pain, her hands resting always on her stomach.

“Is everything alright Linaena?” Y/n spoke up,

“Oh- yes, forgive me, my lady,” Linaena answered,

“Please, what’s wrong?”

“It- I am not very well my lady,”

“Oh, I am so sorry Linaena,” she cooed, “I hope it is not too bad?”

“No I… I- have a troubled stomach,”

“Goodness, any ideas what caused it?”

“...I had moon tea.” she admits, “Forgive me, my lady…”

“Oh…” She gasped, she took a moment puzzled but decided not to say any more on the matter, “I see, well if you are feeling unwell do not let me keep you.”

“Are you sure my lady?”

“Yes, of course, take your time. Rest.”

Lady Linaena took her leave returning to her own chambers to rest,

So Y/n called her protector back,

“A very short visit today,” He chuckled,

“...Uncle Gwayne?”

“Yes, My white rose?”

“What’s moon tea?” She asked,

“Pardon?”

“What is Moon tea?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Lady Linaena said it was upsetting her stomach, I was curious.”

He chuckled slightly, setting his sword down on the table, “Come sit with me.” He cooed taking her by the hand and kissing her knuckles before he led her to sit on the end of her bed, “Now, tell me what was discussed.”

“Lady Linaena seemed uncomfortable so I asked her if she was well, she said she was having trouble with her stomach and when I pressed her on the matter she said it was Moon tea.” She explained,

“I see,” He nodded,

“What is it Uncle Gwayne, I’ve never heard of moon tea before… may I try some?”

“No.” he told her firmly, “No, my sweet little white rose.” he said softer, “Moon tea is a very special tea that ladies drink when… well… when they don’t want to have a baby,”

“But Lady Linaena has yet to wed, why would she want rid of a baby if she is not wed?”

He smiled warmly, “Well, perhaps she was a very naughty girl and was doing things a young lady shouldn’t.” He explained, “Not like my sweet white rose,” he cooed stroking her cheek,

“What sort of naughty things?” she asked wide-eyed and Naive,

“Well, if she was drinking moon tea to get rid of a baby, then she must have gotten pregnant. And wanted rid of it because she wasn’t married yet. You see?”

“I guess so,” she nodded, “But how do ladies get pregnant Uncle Gwayne?”

He chuckled softly, “I think… it best if we have a full lesson on the matter.” he cooed, “Come, stand all nice and pretty for me,” he told her with a slight growl to his voice as he pulled her to stand between his legs, “Humm, good. Now very slowly pull off your layers for me. One by one. Nice and slow,” He demanded but his tone still gentle with her,

Y/n softly giggled and nodded, slowly she began to undress unlacing, unbuttoning, and unclasping all the various layers and elements of her gown,

Gwayne didn’t assist in any way just let her slowly work until her slip fell to the floor leaving her standing naked between his legs, He held back a groan and bit his bottom lip as he looked at her body, his eyes trailing over her curves and lingering in all her most intimate of places, “You are so beautiful, a sweet untouched white rose yet to be soiled and spoiled by the world,” he cooed his hands stroking his fingers over her stomach and waist’s tender skin which forced a ticklish giggle from her lips, “Now it’s my turn.” he growled in her ear. Gwayne then began to undress himself making sure to be slow and gentle letting her look at him as much as she needed to, and once he kicked off his britches leaving him sit on her bed completely naked he took her hands in his guiding them to his shoulders letting her stroke down his chest, “Are you ready for your lesson?”

“Yes, Uncle Gwayne,”

“Good,” he cooed, “Now look at yourself, look how beautiful you are, look at every curve and divot of this perfect body you reside in,” he told her running his hands slowly over her hips, “So immaculate, so stunning, an untouched, unspoiled white rose.”

She nodded,

“And now look at me, see how different we are?”

“Yes, very different,” she nodded blushing slightly,

“That’s because I am a man. And you are a woman. Men and Women are supposed to be different, meant to fit perfectly together,”

“Like a puzzle,”

“Yes, just like a puzzle.” he nodded, “When you look at me, do you start to feel excited?”

She nodded,

“Humm, that's desire. That’s your body telling you it wants to make the puzzle come together,” He smirked, “How you feel and so much more is how every man in the kingdom feels whenever they look at you,”

“All of them?”

“Yes my white rose, all of them. They all look at you and feel a burning desire to look at you, to make you theirs, to pluck the petals of my beautiful white rose.” He cooed, “They see you and all want you like this, exposed and willing, they want to make babies with you every last one of them.”

“How do they make babies?”

“Come on,” he cooed tightening his grip on her hips and pulling her into the bed with him, sitting her on his lap, he moved back a little so they sat in the centre of her bed with her sat on his thighs. “There, Now. When a man and a woman are wed they will be bed. And during the bedding, they will make love that's how they make the babies.”

“But Lady-”

“I know. But she did something very naughty, girls shouldn’t make love without being married. You understand?”

She nodded,

“Good,” He nodded, “Now, when a man and a woman feel the deep desire to make love,”

“And are married,”

“And are married yes,” he nodded, “They will start to kiss,” He cooed peppering little kisses up her neck making her giggle and playfully squeal in excitement, “And you’ll see the man will start to get hard,” he whispered in her ear,

“Hard?”

“Mhm,” he nodded caressing her chin before pushing her head so she looked down at his cock, “You see, watch me getting hard.” he cooed as he stared at her running his hands over her softly to make himself get hard for her,

“How did you do that?” she asked,

“I can’t help it, whenever a man see’s a pretty girl he gets hard. It has somewhat a mind of its own… it knows what it wants.” He growled, “See how egar it is to see you, to touch you, you make me wanna get all big and strong for my little white rose,” he groaned, “And if you or even I, was to touch it like this. It would make me feel… oh so good.”

“It would?”

“Yeah it would, and when a man feels amazingly good, he cums. His cock won’t be able to take the feelings anymore and it’ll be an explosion of pleasure, and his cock will spit out his jizz, his seed. Which is how babies are made.”

“From seed?”

“Mhm, When his seed is planted deep within it’ll grow into a baby.”

“Just like flowers?”

“Just like flowers, That’s how you bloomed my sweet white rose.” he cooed, “Your mother made your father feel so so good that he spilt his seed, which buried inside your mother and grew you.” He explained,

“So That’s what Lady Linaena did?”

“Yes, she made a man so happy he spilt his seed and got her pregnant but she drank her moon tea so she won’t be having a little baby,”

“I see…” She nodded, “So if I made you spill your seed it would make a baby?”

“Only if when I spilt it was inside you,” He cooed rubbing his nose on hers, “If my cock was deep inside your pussy” he groaned stroking his cock with one hand and softly cupping her pussy running his fingers between her lips, “You see my cock would have to be… in here,” he growled slowly pushing his finger inside her,

“Ahh!” She gasped,

“I know, it’s very tight, isn’t it? Umm cause you're a good girl, a good innocent little white rose, your petals still so tight. But tight is good, men love tight. That’s why men love taking little girls' innocence, cause of how tight and responsive you are,” He growled against her lips as he gently moved his finger in and out gently fingering her while he jerked himself off and watched her react,

Her face contorted unsure how to feel, she liked it but it kinda hurt, but it got easier the more he did it,

“When you get married, a man will adore doing this to you. He’ll want to have his cock inside you every moment of every day.” he cooed, “But there are other ways to please your husband.”

“How?” she asked,

“You see how I touch it, how I rub and stroke my cock?”

“Yes,” She nodded,

“Come on, you can do it.” He cooed kissing her hand and gently moving it to his cock, wrapping her fingers around his vainy shaft and guiding her back and forth, “Oooh-”

“What’s wrong Uncle Gwayne?”

“Nothing, nothing just… ummm that feels good. You're a natural.” he growled guiding her hand a little faster, “Just like that okay, keep going…” he demanded taking his hand away as he softly began to moan, “Oh fuck-”

“Like this?” She asked getting more into a pace,

“Yes… yes… Ohh y/n…” he moans throwing his head back, “Ohh my little white rose, how the fuck are you so good at this-” He groaned,

“I am?”

“Oh you are,” he groaned, “Ummm your gonna make me cum already,” he growled as he slipped another finger inside her and began to finger her at the same pace she jerked him off,

“Ughhhh!” She moaned in shock feeling pleasure now building between her legs,

“Yeah… ohh good girl, you feel good?”

She nodded,

“That’s how you're making me feel too,” he growled, but he forced her hand away and pulled his own from her,

Y/n whined at him suddenly stopping,

“I know, I know, but we have more to learn,” he growled licking her juices off his fingers, “Umm you taste so sweet,”

“I do?” she giggled,

“You do,” he nodded, “Do See how hard and desperate I am when you touch me like this?”

“Yes.” She nodded,

“You think you could make me feel better?”

“I can? But we might-”

“You can help me, without risk it’s okay,” he nodded, “Come on my little white rose just open your mouth and suck.” He cooed,

She nodded sheepishly and let him lead her down to his cock, she was nervous but he smiled down at her,

“Go on, just a little lick.”

She slowly licked from base to tip running her tongue along his shaft,

“Ohhh god-” he gasped, “Yes just like that keep going.” he nodded holding her hair to keep her close,

She nodded and continued to lick, swirling her tounge around his head,

“Uhhhh! Ohh yes! Yes… fuck! Y/n…” he moaned his hips bucking up towards her mouth, “Umm open those lips for me, nice and wide.”

“Yes Uncle Gwayne,” she nodded opening her mouth as wide as she could,

“Umm you're such a good girl,” he growled, “You look delectable with your mouth open.” he smirked before he guided his cock inside her mouth, holding her hair to keep her in pace, “Ohhhhh fuck-” He moaned, “Yes… yes… now suck my little white rose, suck as hard as you want,” he begged,

She nodded slowly hollowing her cheeks and sucking, finding her pace with her breaths and sucks,

He moaned and groaned loudly often bucking up to thrust into her mouth, guiding her hair to move her head up and down as she sucks, “Lick too. Lick all over,”

She began to lick and suck trying to keep at her pace,

But Gwayne was getting overwhelmed and began to thrust hard and fast fucking her mouth in desperation as he moans and groaned, “Fuck, fuck… I’m gonna cum-” He groans, “I’m gonna cum… I- Ughhhh!” His body froze suddenly as he moaned loudly burying his cock as deep in her mouth as he could sending his jizz across her tounge, “Fuck… ummm… that felt so good Y/n, My sweet little white rose,” he cooed between breaths, as he pulled his cock from her mouth, “Swallow.”

“Are you sure Uncle Gwanye?” She asked even with her mouthful,

“Yes go on, swallow it’s okay.” He nodded,

She nodded and swallowed it all, so he wiped her mouth and kissed her forehead,

“You did amazing,” He growled, “But we will have more to learn, you see if a husband and wife don’t want to make a baby, but they still want to make love and have pleasure, they can use their hands just like I showed you, or mouth like you just did for me or even…” he growled flipping her over onto the bed, grabbing her thighs and forcing her legs as wide as they would go, “Let me show you my little white rose,” he cooed kissing down her neck, planting the soft kisses down her chest which made her squirm and giggle, “Ummm… just a moment,” he cooed as he rubbed his face between her large breasts, “Someday when you do get pregnant, these will get even bigger,”

“Bigger!”

“Oh yes white rose even bigger,” he groaned cupping her breasts and kneading them as he rubbed his nose against her sternum, “They will swell and grow filling with milk for your babies. So you can feed your little ones from your breast.” he smirked his index and middle finger pinching and rubbing her nipples, “You see how hard they get when I touch them, even though you're not pregnant your breast want to feed, they want to do it. So they get nice and hard ready for a baby to suckle,”

“That sounds painful…” she whined,

“It can be, but it makes your babies ever so happy to feed from their mother… and… Husbands don’t dislike having a little lick too,” He growled licking across her entrapped nipple,

“Ummm-” She whined softly squirming more,

“Just enjoy it,” he cooed latching his lips around her nipple softly sucking and licking while his hand kneaded her other breast,

“Uncle Gwayne this feels funny,” She gasped,

“I know, I know,” he cooed, “It's cause you don’t really have any milk in here yet, but it feels good, doesn’t it? Feels all bubbly in your tummy,” He cooed returning his lips to sucking as his other hand moved to rub against her pussy once more stroking between her lips to find her clit,

She moaned as soon as his hand touched it,

And he bit down a little on her nipple as he purposely pleasured her hard and intensely, slipping two fingers inside her while rubbing on her clit, kneading her breast and sucking on her nipple,

She screamed and moaned out in pleasure as the onslaught of stimulation brought her to the edge of climax, she tried to call out, to ask what was happening to her but she was unable to form the words, until-

Y/n squealed digging her nails into her bed as pleasure washed over her, curling her toes, making her legs tremble, her hips buck up towards his hand, her body releasing a stream of squirt, her back arching up pressing her breasts closer to his mouth, her head thrown back and eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned uncontrollable animalistic sounds in response to the overwhelming pleasure,

Gwayne growled in satisfaction and kept going letting her ride out the whole of her orgasm until she was a gasping mess on the bed, he pulled back and licked his fingers clean, “Ummm look at you, you look so beautiful, sound so delicious. How can any man resist you.” he cooed, “That’s why you need to be locked up here white rose, cause every man in the kingdom wants to see you like this. And given the chance all of them will take it. So you and I need to stay safe up here okay,”

“Yes, Uncle Gwayne,”

“Good girl,” he cooed, “And I think we won’t see you little friend anymore, I don’t want her putting ideas in your head that a lady can do such things before she is wed,”

“But didn’t we-”

He chuckled, “I’m your uncle, I’m allowed.” he winked, “Come on little white rose lets tuck you in and we can have a little nap together and then I’ll show you some more little things,” He smirked,

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marveloustimestwo · 5 months ago

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Can you do yandere Aemond obsessed with his i maid, he tries to convince his mother so she let him married her and alicent is a platonic yandere for her too

Thank you for the request, anon!

Warnings: Yandere themes, allusions to Aegon's tendencies, this is very long when I did not intend it to be.

Aemond Targaryen is already quite a difficult yandere to deal with.

He has trouble dealing with his emotions, or rather, he instead chooses to ignore them completely until he no longer can.

Whatever anger, sadness, or undesirable issues he feels towards his family, himself, or others are stuffed away, which really only causes them to get worse.

The fact that you are a maid only adds to this issue.

Aegon already views him as weak, as someone undeserving of respect. While Aemond does not much care for what his brother thinks, the last thing he needs is to bring further shame unto himself in the eyes of others.

Aemond would often treat you coldly because of this. He wants to keep himself from falling more than he already has; he's already finding himself far more comfortable with you than he would like.

You're so warm, so sweet to him in a way that he hasn't received in years. The fact that he forces his emotions down makes them worse, yes, but his family dynamics also play a heavy role in why his obsession starts.

How he was treated by his father and brother is especially damaging, but it is also a big reason why he would seek reassurance, praise, and comfort from you.

If you were hired when you were both very young, you would be a crutch almost, a safe space for him to go to when Aegon insulted him or when he couldn't speak to his father.

Knowing Aemond from a young age would have made things better for both of you in all honesty.

While his obsessive tendencies would still be there, Aemond would be a lot softer than he would be if he met you later in life. The anger and the coldness he feels would've melted away years ago in your presence.

Granted, that same softness would not extend to others. He's still rather cold at best, and downright vicious to those who think they have the right to touch or even talk to you.

He's very possessive. Even when you're getting orders from those who are higher up have Aemond seething. Nothing is too little.

Aemond would ask for you to only be his maid early on. He hates the idea of others spending this sort of time with you, especially Aegon. He's heard of what his brother does to the servants, and he hardly needs you being subjected to that.

It also means that once you've done everything needed for the day, he can spend as much time as he wants with you (which is all the time, really.) If he had his way, you would stay in his room permanently.

He'd particularly enjoy reading with you or discussing topics from his books. Considering you're a maid, he'd take time to teach you how to read if you didn't know how.

Late at night when things are quiet, Aemond would also take you on flights with Vhagar. The dragon was his pride and joy, the same thing he spent so many years without, and lost an eye for.

Having the two things he cherishes the most in one place is something he holds dear. It would likely be during this that he would realize that he wanted to marry you.

At this rate, being years into his obsession, Aemond wouldn't really care what his brother thought. If Aegon really, truly had the gall to try and stop him, he could always use his prized dragon as a way to end the fight once and for all.

His mother, however, was a different ordeal. While they have their own unhealthy dynamic, Aemond has no true want to harm his mother and actually does care about what she thinks.

The one thing Aemond didn't expect was how accepting Alicent would be of this situation.

Going into it, he was preparing himself for a fight. He had a whole speech prepared about how he wanted to marry you, about how deep his love runs for you, and how there is nothing he would not do to make this happen. To him, fire and blood would be an easy path should all else fail.

A deeply dramatic speech that is met with Alicent's judgmental gaze, and a reply of "Did it truly take you this long to realize all of this?"

Alicent had noticed your presence as soon as you were assigned around any of her sons. At first, she gave you nothing more than a glance, far more concerned with other things than a simple maid.

It was when Aemond requested you as his personal maid that she actually saw you. Aemond in particular had become so unfriendly over the years, so it had surprised her to hear of this request.

She was even more surprised to see how attached he had become. Alicent had never seen him so friendly with anyone in years.

Looking into your life, it was hard for her to see what was so special at first. You came from a long line of servants, the majority of the women being maids, while the men were often cooks or stablehands.

Asking Aemond was like asking a brick wall. The answers he gave her consisted of the things she already knew. "She is my personal maid," or "She was assigned to others, I just so happened to request her personally."

With no explanation as to why. Only one comment actually seemed to give her anything.

"I have known her since I was a child, mother. Of course, I am fond of her."

A flippant remark, it seemed, at the end of another line of questions. Alicent even wondered at times if Aemond had realized what he said.

Speaking to you personally felt as though it were her only option.

At first, it had only made her more confused. You gave her all the answers she wanted, as she was the Queen, but to hear it from you felt strange.

If Aemond has threatened you to be around him, she might understand. She already had another son who harassed the servants. But to hear that you might actually enjoy Aemond's company? That he taught you to read, took you on dragon rides, actually talked to you about his thoughts and interests?

It practically gave her whiplash. Her immediate thought was that you might've been trying to squeeze something out of him. Private information, money, or god forbid, actually marrying her son to get a leg up in life.

Questioning Aemond on the matter would immediately have him snapping at her. He did not need his mother threatening what he has with you. Forcing you to stay away from him, having you take care of anyone else, or making you leave the castle entirely will have violent consequences.

So Alicent set to watching you and seeing why exactly her son liked you so much. And that is where her own obsession would begin.

When Aemond finally tells her that he plans to marry you, Alicent has been waiting for a least a year for this to happen. She's tired of him beating around the bush and is happy to do whatever she needs to make it happen.

As such, it takes a very short time for you to be married to Aemond. No matter what anyone else tried to say about it.

#yandere #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere alicent hightower

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emilykaldwen · 5 months ago

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You're The Lighting of the Blaze | One Shot | Jacaerys x Helaena

(moodboard by @vampire-exgirlfriend)

Title: You're the Lighting of the Blaze Ship: Jacaerys x Helaena WC: 6,484 Rating: Explicit Summary: On the eve of war, all that Jacaerys holds dear is poised to be stolen from him. But the fire flows through him just as the rest of his family, and a dragon does not surrender his treasure so easily.

(Jace x Helaena Betrothal AU)

Notes: This was my entry for last year's big bang, and in honor of tonight's finale, I'm finally posting it to tumblr. I've been seeing my Jacelaena stuff get some traction, and I'll definitely be writing more of them (and I'm totally open to suggestions to percolate). They are a featured side pairing in my main fic as well.

Tumblr Masterpost | AO3 Link

When I first saw you / The end was soon To Bethlehem, it slouched / And then, must've caught a good look at you Give your heart and soul to charity 'Cause the rest of you / The best of you Honey, belongs to me

Helaena’s hips rolled up against Jacaerys’ mouth and the sigh that escaped her was soft, a murmur crossing her lips like a prayer in the sept. He couldn’t quite understand her words, but looking up from his comfortable spot between her thighs, he could see the furrow of her brow. Whatever caused her eyes to dance beneath her lids was distressing, at odds with the way her body bowed against his touch.

“Hush,” he consoled against the soft skin of her pale thigh thrown over his shoulder. Helaena moaned and he swiped his thumb lazily over the slick gathering against her. A gentle swipe over that bundle of nerves that made her tremble even in the sleepy dream that held her. “You’re safe now.”

Helaena’s head tossed against the pillow and she wriggled her ass into the bed. A smile caught along Jace’s mouth, the proud smirk that spoke to his pride and satisfaction. He nuzzled his nose into her, bumping up against her clit, and pressed his mouth to her skin. “Lykiri,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over her as Helaena’s hips jerked at the attention.

She fell apart soon after that, with his fingers pressed inside of her against that spot he found that made her keen and cry in her wakefulness. In sleep it shudders her out of the dream, finally, and her mouth parted in a wordless cry that dares to have them found out. He crawled up her body and pressed his face between her breasts and the thin fabric of her nightgown kept his mouth from tasting the salt of her skin.

Helaena’s fingers rose to dive into his tangled curls and held him close. “The crow flies,” she murmured. “The crow dies.” A yawn, the haze of sleep clouding her lavender eyes. Jace turned to rest his chin on her sternum and watched her for a moment.

“Worried?” he whispered, and Helaena squirmed beneath him, tugging on his dark brown curls until he crawled up the rest of the way. His princess tasted herself off his mouth, the kiss otherwise chaste and full of sleepy softness.

“We’ll be caught one day,” she replied in the same hushed tone, and his mouth swallowed her words, pressing his hips against the apex of her thighs and encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. Jace relaxed at the feel of her against the front of his breeks, where he was half hard.

“Nothing will happen.” The promise in his voice was true. So what if they were caught. They were betrothed and would be married soon. No matter how much Queen Alicent dragged her feet, he knew Helaena had her gown fitting the moon before. His mother had even casually mentioned the idea of him and Helaena moving to Dragonstone after the wedding.

“You should be able to enjoy the flush of new marriage with privacy and not under the scrutiny of the entire court,” she’d teased. It had been a cool day, the sun warm and the sky endless. She’d pulled the pair of them into her office, a cloistered room overlooking the main courtyard outside of the Holdfast and the main gate of the keep - the Dragon Pit a great focal point in the distance. Helaena had been curled up in the window seat with a stack of letters his mother had given the pair of them to work through. The workings of the realm were all in little baskets between this office and Lord Tyland in the Hand’s Tower.

The thunderous look on his mother’s face at the mere suggestion of Otto Hightower entering the Red Keep once more had kept that nomination from going through.

Dragonstone was his mother’s seat, but she stayed within the capital, refusing to give an inch, sitting on the council where she belonged. It would be his seat one day, and he found that he thought constantly about the great stone table carved with all the land of Westeros. He thought of running his fingers through the rivers and over the mountains, thought of how his grandsire took him before the Iron Throne and told him “This will be yours one day, lad.”

He thought of the hollow eyes of his uncles and his bride, of the wan, feral look on Queen Alicent’s face.

The words “such Strong boys” lingered in his mind, and Jace thought of scarred Ser Harwin, Lord of Harrenhal. The fire had stolen the life of his father, the Lord Lyonel, but Harwin had endured. No longer the champion of the Realm’s Delight, Lord Strong lived a quiet life in a crumbling castle on the edge of the great God’s Eye with his younger sister, whose favor Aegon wore tied around his wrist. He wrote Jace ravens from time to time asking how his training was going, and telling him how proud he is. He cannot come back to King’s Landing, not when Jace has grown tall and broad, with dark curls and a way with a sword.

That is saying nothing for the way that Luke and Joffrey’s hair had grown in dark as mahogany, righteous curls on Jace and Luke’s head, and Joffrey’s pin straight with their mother’s features staring out from his mischievous, sprite-like features.

Jace startled at the sensation of Helaena’s warm fingers ghosting across his eyes. It drew a smile just as it drew him from his thoughts and she hummed.

“Would you give it to me if you could?” she asked with a soft moan, and he could feel her soaking into the front of his breeks. He pressed further into her as if there was no barrier between them. “Turn the line to that of women as you have no sisters?” Jace thinks of his cousins and thinks of the almost future where they had wondered about betrothing him to Baela instead to keep Corlys Velaryon appeased, and he wonders had Baela and Rhaena had been his sisters, if he would be wed to one of them without hesitation. If he had sisters instead of the brothers he loved, would he have lost Helaena, like the fragments of a dream upon waking.

He thinks about the gentleness of Daemon with his daughters, thinks of how warmly he smiles at his mother when no one is looking, and knows that they are waiting for the crown to perch upon her head. They’ll be his sisters one day, but too late to change destiny.

“I would,” he murmured, and sucked a mark against her jaw where she cannot hide it, where it will be there like a beacon for all to see; that Helaena Targaryen is his, and he will be king and none would take it away. “I will.”

An uncertain edge permeated the Landing when Queen Alicent left by wheelhouse toward Oldtown, Vhagar in the sky above her as Aemond provided the first escort. Aegon disappeared for two weeks after that to Harrenhal before returning, lighter than his usual melancholy allowed, and he rolled his eyes at them as he headed to the dragonpit.

Helaena was to go with him.

“It is a celebration for the Hightowers and it’s been so long since we’ve seen Daeron,” Helaena said. Tension curled in Jace’s gut at the idea of being parted from her, and he remembered her words about the death of crows before she wrapped her arms around him and he sank into the taste of her and the candied lemon she’d eaten that morning.

“I didn’t get to taste you this morning.” She grinned, all bright teeth and a sharp, feral edge in her lavender eyes. Jace snorted and knocked his cheek against her. He would take her in the alcove beneath the stairs if there was enough time. His mother had forbidden him from providing escort, anxiety over the King’s declining health drawing those worried furrows to her brow.

“It’s not safe for you in Oldtown, Jace. Stay here, where it’s safe.”

Yet he must let her go. But she is a Hightower just as she is a Targaryen, and there she should be safe.

“What is it? Two days on Dreamfyre? When you feel reckless, just come back. Or better, Vermax and I shall meet you in the mountains and we’ll just stay there.” He nipped at her mouth, cupped her soft cheeks in his rough hands and tilted her head back for another kiss. “Dreamfyre would love to roost in the mountains, wouldn’t she?”

Helaena’s laughter echoed off the red stone of the courtyard before he swallowed the sound down to keep in his chest where his heart beats in time with hers.

The King died a fortnight later.

Jace watched as his mother sat upon the Iron Throne. It was an ugly chair, a twisted metal monstrosity forged from his ancestor’s conquest. His mother wore her hair as Visenya was said to have worn hers: an intricately woven braid along the top of her head woven with black and crimson ribbon and silver Valyrian runic charms. Her gown was red silk, long draped sleeves that fell about her like water and cut to reveal the black underdress, the tight sleeves a shock of obsidian against the blood red. The tail of her braid hung over her shoulder and down to her waist and Jace remembered sitting in her lap as a boy to play with her hair, her own fingers tender in his curls. He could not imagine doing such a thing if his mother had portrayed the vision that she did now. There was a hardened look in her violet eyes, and outside of the tender rim of red that showed her grief, she was, in every sense of the word, Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of her Name.

The crown looked heavy, Jace thought. His mother deserved a sunburst, she deserved to drip in jewels. She did not need such a clumsy, heavy thing to weigh her down when she flew through the sky with such joy.

Joy that was absent from her face as news of Oldtown closing their gates and sending ravens was relayed. Lord Beesbury’s voice echoed in the cold quiet of the chamber, cold fear and heated anger curling along Jace’s spine. This was to be expected - that Aegon would be pitted against his mother no matter how much he did not want this.

“We’ll need to draw them out,” Daemon’s voice echoed, Dark Sister held naked in front of him, the wedding ring that matched his mother’s glinting in the light streaking through the window. “Treason cannot be tolerated.”

“I would welcome my dear brothers and sweet sister back into my arms,” his mother said, so beautiful and queenly. “We must not frighten them, nor give them any further reason to listen to the poison that’s being fed them.” Her gaze, like Valyrian steel, cut to Jace. “You are to stay here.”

All eyes swiveled to Jace. Daemon smirked at him. Luke raised his eyebrows.

“Of course, your Grace,” Jace replied, and his mother held his gaze before Daemon spoke again.

He mounted Vermax in the dark of the moonless night.

Oldtown had closed their gates, but no matter how they forgot, a dragon does not tolerate that which is theirs being taken.

The Grande Festival in Oldtown was an ancient affair, dating back to before the conquest, when the Hightowers ruled as kings in their own right. It was the sort of event Jace had heard about in passing. The grand carnival in Oldtown had been a tradition even before the landing of the conquerors. The city was decked out in banners, not just the flapping viridescent banners of House Hightower, of which there were plenty. There were colorful streamers and fabrics twisting across every lane and thoroughfare, the sky littered with falling colored papers and flowers from people standing with great baskets out their windows above. Music and the scents of foods filled the air; the crisp sweet tartness of apples and cinnamon pies, the currants and spice of mincemeat tarts mingled with roasting boars and stag carved there on the streetside. Beef sloughing off the spit with spices from Dorne were just as mouth watering as the array of pastries beside them, and if Jace had been there for any other purpose, he would’ve gladly indulged.

Tonight, his indulgence was in quarries that were far more dangerous, and far more rewarding.

Jace adjusted his mask, ensuring that it was secure around his head. The other masks he saw ranged from the simple fabric domino cuts that simply covered the eyes to full face paper with hanging beads. As he approached the heart of the festivities they became more elaborate: headdresses of iridescent feathers around ornate full faces with silver inlays and gold leaves.

The raven mask he wore was one that should pass notice. His curls were braided back with a gold ribbon, and the material was smooth on his face, made with fine, soft feathers and an abbreviated beak that did not get in the way like the plague masks and other bird beaked visages did. It covered his full face with only his bright lavender eyes circled with grease paint looking out. Jace had his own ruff of raven feathers surrounding him, but was far less ostentatious than many of the masks around him. The great fan of feathers that others sported wouldn’t serve him when he was trying to get close to his princess.

His dragon mate.

Helaena stood in the great square in front of the High Tower, beneath the fluttering banners of her mother’s house and the flapping Targaryen banners. Lanterns were strung across the place like great fireflies and colored light streamed out from the wrought iron and glass window of the tower behind her.

Like a dream, she was cloaked in silks of lapis and gold, her silver hair turned molten in the light. Her mask was more paint than physical creation; blue and silver and gold paints decorated her smooth skin in the visage of butterfly wings and delicately spun fabric to emulate more wings were affixed to a tiara. She sparkled as a star would, leading him as if he were a traveler lost in the wilderness.

While he knew where he was going, Helaena was the one who looked lost. Her beautiful costume could not hide the frozen, remote look on her face, nor the way her large, lavender eyes danced around the crowds, flinching as her mother touched her shoulder. Jace’s eyes narrowed behind his mask, seeing Alicent as Helaena’s jailor rather than someone tender.

For so long, Jace had thought of Alicent Hightower as simply The Queen. Remote and icy, her beautiful face with perpetually narrowed eyes watching him, taking in his dark curls, the set of his jaw, the very non-Targaryen features he displayed that he knew could not be explained away by his grandmother Rhaenys’ Baratheon heritage, that everyone else seemed to ignore. She stood on the dias beside her daughter, swathed in mourning black of a widow, her gown lined in gold and green trim, her black lace veil worn over her features in lieu of a celebration mask.

He wondered if she were truly mournful and Jace knew in his chest he would not begrudge her joy at being freed from his grandfather. The man had doted on him, doted on his siblings, but the years gave weight to age and opened his eyes, and he could see the wrongness of it all. He saw the cruel negligence to his wife, he saw the way he dangled carrots of affection to his own mother, his chosen heir, and then turned around and denounced the discord that his actions sowed. Jace had vowed to never treat Helaena the way Viserys treated his wife. He would never treat his children the way that he saw how his mother was treated.

It was insidious, and something that took Jace far too long to realize and understand - that his grandfather did not see his mother, not unlike the way he passed over his other children; an old man falling deeper into his dreams, of his longing for a woman who died brutally in the birthing bed. It was the ghost of his long passed grandmother that kept Rhaenyra Targaryen at the edges of her father’s graces. To witness his mother claw as fiercely as Alicent Hightower clawed for just a scrap of attention from the dying king was enough to make Jace consider regicide, not to mention kinslaying. The senselessness of it all made his stomach curl and when he thought of putting Helaena through the same, his vision would go red and his stomach would heave.

He would do better, as he always did, as he always had to do. Even as he felt compassion for the woman, there would be no forgiveness for her hand in the strife.

Nor would there be forgiveness for how she hoarded his bride away from him, as if the death of one king meant she could do what she pleased.

Helaena was his bride, and he was her groom. They would be together, they would fly their dragons together, and share their bed every night. Helaena would be his queen one day, ruling by his side in all the ways that she deserved, and they would heal what had been broken and fractured, torn apart by his grandfather’s negligence, picked over by his mother and the former queen in their long simmering resentments

He would never forgive Alicent Hightower for trying to take Helaena away, to marry her to Aegon and attempt to put the crown on his head.

Oh, this wasn’t a coronation, not yet. First, there needed to be ravens sent and alliances made and barely a week had passed since the king’s death. It wasn’t even enough time to get a raven north to Winterfell, let alone alliances. Not with the suddenness of the King's demise. But everyone knew what was coming.

While Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen sat the iron throne, swathed in her grief, she had not yet been publicly crowned. Not with the mourning of the old king and the rituals being followed. Even as the small council addressed her as their liege lord, the position was tenuous and some kind of truce needed to be made.

A heavy hand clapping his shoulder made him start and Jace turned to look into the face of Aegon Targaryen.

His uncle looked utterly miserable. Aegon’s eyes were bloodshot, his round face flushed beneath the golden mask of dragon scales. Of course, there was no doubt that he would wear the golden visage of his beloved dragon.

“Found you,” he murmured, the lightest slur to his wine soaked breath. “Truly fascinating, nephew, that you escaped your mother’s skirts and came here of all places.” Lilac eyes flicked towards the dias. “Definitely not to rescue me.” Wine sloshed over the edge of the goblet he held as he took a heavy swallow of it. His thick fingers tightened on Jace’s shoulder.

“Not sure I know what you’re talking about, my lord,” he said, pitching his voice to try and disguise it, and a peel of laughter, edged with mania, fell from Aegon’s mouth, sputtering wine as if Jace had said the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“You are pathetic,” he said. Which was utterly rich coming from his uncle, though he was barely any older. Aegon was a feral thing, a tom cat who prowled and refused to be kept down, yet a wet thing, desperate for affection. “The way you look at my dear sister can’t be hidden by that.” Aegon lifted his goblet to tap the mask’s raven beak. “Not to mention your terrible posture.” A clap on the back this time. Jace gritted his teeth.

“I am the prince of the realm now, uncle,” Jace hissed in reply. He refused to extract himself from Aegon’s hold as if he were retreating. “The future king of Westeros. I’m sure you’re most relieved about that.”

Aegon’s grin was sharp; manic and gleeful and sad all at once. “Aye,” he murmured, leaning in. “That you are. I should challenge you to a duel-” he paused, burping in his face, and Jace suppressed a sigh. “Make my mother happy.”

He’d never admit it to Aegon, but he understood the sentiment, even when their own mothers were as different as green and black.

“Tell me, is that what you desire? Or will beating me in a duel - if you even could - hold favor for long enough?” It was a low blow, and Aegon’s eyes narrowed even as the smirk turned cruel and sad across his face. “Or would you simply call your second? I’m sure Aemond would take more joy in it.”

Jace suppressed his shudder even as he said it. Aemond would find more joy in it, and Jace knew he likely wouldn’t get out of that with just an eye lost. His gaze instinctively roamed their surroundings as Aegon drank, looking out for the sight of Aemond Targaryen. There was no flash of his long, silver hair, or the familiar straight line of his shoulders. He wondered if the festivities might be too much for him. Helaena struggled with crowds herself, and Aemond struggled with them for his own reasons after losing his eye.

The event of it all still curdled in his belly, but there was nothing to be helped now.

“Vicious little brat, aren’t you?” Aegon snorted, mouth a bitter twist.

Jace breathed in through his nose, feeling the tingling in his hands, just aching to wrap them around his uncle’s throat to shut up his stupid mouth. His lavender eyes found the vision of Helaena once more and he exhaled slowly.

“You don’t want this,” he told Aegon with conviction, teeth gritted and turning to get him to face him head on. “You don’t, and she doesn’t. Don’t do this for me. Do it for you, or her, since I know you care for her too.” Fuck, it would be so easy to push him into the alley and end him. But while Aegon was an even match, it would simply make things worse.

Besides, Jace had no desire to be a kinslayer, cursed and haunted.

Aegon’s head cocked, mouth pursed in a mimic of his mother, and he looked towards the dais, eyes tracking up to the fluttering banners. “What brother steals his sister’s birthright?” Aegon muttered, eyes tracking back to Jace’s. Red rimmed and lined with tension, Jace knew Aegon didn’t desire this; he desired other things, like forbidden nymphs frolicking in rivers.

“What brother indeed.” His mother knew this was not Aegon’s doing, but it didn’t mean that boys didn’t present a problem - alternatives to her rule.

But that was an issue for another day. Right now, he needed to get to that which he was being denied. He’d take it with fire and blood, if he had to. Jace would just prefer not to.

Aegon shook his head and shoved him back slightly. “You fucking owe me, you little prick.” Something eased in Jace’s chest, the knot that had been building as he waited. Whatever Aegon was meant to do, Jace would have his opportunity.

He watched, wide eyed, as Aegon sloshed into the fountain with a whoop, drawing the attention of the party goers, and began precariously climbing the statue in the middle - an elaborate mime of the Seven, and Aegon was… gripping the breasts of The Mother as he hauled himself up towards the seven pointed star above them.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jace muttered, caught between horror and amusement and let the crowd surge around him as Aegon called for attention. Which meant no one was looking at the dais.

“Friends and countrymen!” Aegon hollered out, his voice echoing off the sunbaked brick and stone of the courtyard. People cheered in response. “As the wine flows and tits come out-” Ribald laughter rippled through the crowd and Jace tuned out the flaxen haired buffoon and started making his way towards the edge of the festivities, searching for a way to get sight unseen towards the back of the platform where Helaena still stood, also focused on the spectacle her brother was making.

Alicent Hightower had turned to hiss at Ser Criston and a few of the Hightower guards that gathered around her. What danger could there be in this stronghold, for Jace noticed a distinct lack of protection now along the back edge; the back edge where Helaena lingered, melting further into the banners and curtains lining the platform. He recognized that look and it made his heart ache. His belly roiled with anger. She looked trapped, she looked like she wanted to run, but in an unfamiliar place, was unsure where to go. Jace knew she could handle herself, but when it came to crowds, and lights, when it came to all of this? Every instinct in him screamed to go up there, to hold her slim, warm hand in his and twine their fingers; a firm hold, and one that couldn’t be torn away.

Raucous laughter and applause echoed from where Aegon was on the fountain and Jace watched Ser Criston and the other guards make their way into the crowd. Queen Alicent stood at the front of the dais, hands clasped against her waist.

When he turned to look for Helaena again, she was gone.

He blinked.

“Helaena?” he whispered harshly, reaching up to remove his mask but pausing before he could. “Fucking thing,” he muttered, trying to look around and see if he could spot the glimmering blue and gold and silver of his betrothed. “Ābrazyyrys, skoriot ilā?” The Valyrian flowed more easily from his mouth than it had before. Helaena made studying… fun.

He wished they were back in bed, her mouth on him while she made him practice reciting the prophecies of Daenys the Dreamer.

“Vasīr ābrazyyrys ikson daor,” came a smooth voice, the words like a song, a dream. The scent of lemon wafted around him and he felt a warm hand stroking up his spine. “Don’t turn around.” Her voice was soft and commanding all the same and it made a shiver roll through his body, heat and arousal, excitement and nerves. “Did you come all this way just to find me, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Her mouth brushed against his shoulder. Her fingers curled nervously - he knew it was nervously by how tightly she clung - into his tunic. “I dreamed you.”

“I don’t know the word for bride,” he apologized, voice in a rush, breathless. His heart was thudding in his ears. “I’ve dreamed of you too. But we have to go.” A yearning edge to his voice and he tilted his head back to the sky as if praying for the opportunity to do it. Helaena’s arms moved to wind around his waist from behind, and she pressed her face between his shoulder blades. His hands came to rest over hers in a soothing motion, but as much as he wanted to wind in her embrace - “We have to get out of here.”

“I know, I dreamed this, I just told you.” He felt her rubbing her face against his back and Jace wondered if the paint on her face would streak across his shirt.

“Come on, this way. If they find me here, I don’t think Aegon will be able to make another distraction to keep your mother from demanding my head on sight.” Jace reluctantly loosened her arms and finally turned in her embrace. Helaena tilted her head back and her lavender eyes were luminous in the night, the lantern light reflecting like fireflies in her gaze. She reached up to run her fingers along his mask, smiling softly at the touch of feathers, the curve of the beak and he wished he could rest his head against hers, to kiss her as he longed to.

“Do you have wings that sprout from your back?” she asked. He snorted and shook his head at her, letting the feathers tickle her face and they needed to go but she giggled at the way they tickled her and it was worth it. “How could anyone think you are a raven when you are so clearly a dragon?” She wondered softly, her eyes, just as light and lavender as his.

“They whisper about it and I hate it. How easily they dismiss me and force me to declare who I am,” he’d railed to her, tears at the corners of his eyes, pain in his chest. By sight, who would see him and think him a Targaryen? How easily he was looked over, how easily ignored– unlike his uncles, unlike Helaena, unlike his own mother.

Helaena’s hands had been warm on his face and she gazed at him, unblinking. Her eyes were the same shade as his own, and far more beautiful, he thought, with her hair like moonlight.

“How could anyone look at you and think you are anything but?” she asked. “When I see myself in you? Dragons both.”

“No, Vermax is off waiting.” Her fingers were tugging at the tie that held the mask to his head and he reached up to grab her fingers. “Once we leave,” he said but he couldn’t hide the longing in his voice.

She sighed and kissed his beak. “This way. I scouted it out a fortnight ago.”

“Of course you did,” he laughed, and with another glance at the commotion, he let his bride pull him through the crowd, none paying all that much attention to them. He supposed that if her mother turned and found her gone, she would think Helaena had fled into the High Tower. There was no reason to think that she was running away, cutting down a narrow alley and over the canal bridge.

“Dreamfyre is waiting,” she told him as they ducked into a little space between buildings, barely big enough for the both of them. It hid them with a perfect view of the little gate, a lone guard looking as if he’d rather be anywhere but there. Jace didn’t see any sign of the Hightower emblem upon his armor. No, he wore the emblem of the city watch, and he was young, which meant he’d picked the short straw on the evening’s rotation.

“What do you mean, Dreamfyre is waiting? Ah, right, you dreamed this,” he chuckled softly, and preened when she reached up to stroke his beak again. She tutted at him and looked about, pressing her hand against his chest.

“Umbagon, Jacaerys,” she ordered in that voice she used to command Dreamfyre. It made him shudder and his toes curl in his boots, his cock twitching in anticipation from what that voice usually meant. ‘How well she had him trained,’ he thought.

His violet eyes tracked her as she strode across the alley, the silver curls flowing down her back catching the light like starshine. Jace’s eyes narrowed when the guard perked up, the smile on his face meaning one thing, but then it faltered, his eyes widening at whatever she was saying to him. Jace had been prepared for this to be so much harder. Seven Hells, he’d been prepared to fight, prepared to draw blade and blood to get her out, to get them away.

Here he was, watching her back while Helaena had sent the guard scurrying away, holding onto his helmet as he was sent rushing further away from the party. She turned, a glowing thing in the torchlight, and beckoned him over. Laughter escaped him as he pulled the mask off, his curls catching a bit along the edges. He was finally able to see her with clear vision and he couldn’t help but indulge, grasping her by the back of the neck to pull her in for a proper kiss. Helaena laughed into his mouth, fingers cupping his cheeks as he tasted her, crowding her against the wall. They had to leave, he couldn’t get caught. It would be death if they were caught, but in the few moments they had, he would take them.

“Ao rystas,” he murmured, grinning.

Helaena beamed. “Ao rystas,” she returned the greeting and the sound of Dreamfyre’s call echoed across the hills outside the city, drawing both their gazes. “Hope Vermax can keep up,” she chuckled and together, they ran into the night.

His princess had surprised him by pulling a rucksack from beneath some bushes when they had hit the field, reminding him that she had dreamt of fleeing, and had prepared to. “I thought it would just be me,” she had explained as they flew over the sleeping, dark expanse of the Reach. “I dreamt that a raven came with news that would let me fly away.” She had kept a feather that had fallen from his mask in her hands, running her fingers over the inky blue-back edges of it. “I like it when those dreams come true.”

Vermax could keep up without a rider, although Jace couldn’t tell if it was because Dreamfyre was slowing down enough so they wouldn’t lose him, or if his weight really slowed his sweet boy down that much. It was one of her eggs that Vermax had come from, their bond strong as his and Helaena’s had grown.

In the beginning, Jace kept looking over his shoulder for the great bulk of Vhagar on their tails - for if anyone would be sent after them, it would be Aemond. Aemond who loathed the attention that Helaena bestowed on Jace. Aemond who loathed their betrothal. Aemond who did his mother’s bidding without question.

Jace wondered at that, for he knew it well. He wished nothing more than to make his mother proud. He wished for nothing more than to be a worthy successor to the throne, to be the King that the realm deserved. He had seen it in Aemond’s eyes when it came to Aegon, and he’d seen it when Aemond pinned him with a glare, swinging his sword against Ser Criston in the training yard.

Sometimes he wished he could tell Aemond that he could have it. He could have the lessons and the pressure, he could have the burden of legacy, the burden of his tarnished and whispered parentage on his own shoulders. Jace would give it up… he would give it up if it meant, in the end, he could still have Helaena, the two of them and their dragons living on the wind.

Aemond hungered in the way a dragon hungered for meat, for flesh, for everything. He couldn’t blame him. Jace thought he might feel that way as well, if he were in Aemond’s position. He wondered if Luke would feel that way some day. If his own brother would grow more angry and serious, chafing at the bonds of being the second son.

They needed only to rest once, ducking beneath the cloud cover to nestle in the forests that lined the borders of the Reach and the Crownlands. Vermax kept close, tired from flying so far back and forth. They watched him prowl through the forest, coming back with the corpse of a doe and licking his jaws over the bulk of it.

“I think he brought it to feed us,” Helaena murmured, her cheek rubbing against his shoulder. Dreamfyre had already found her meal, several cows in the field nearby. Jace turned his head to nose against the crown of her silver head. She smelled like the sky. She smelled like the promise of rain and the musky scent of dragon, and still beneath, the bright scent of lemons clung to her hair.

“He’s been a good boy, flying as swiftly as he did.” His fingers plucked at the lacing of her gown and Helaena shifted, turning so he could get his other hand there to work at her gown. “He knew how hungry I was for you.”

Her pale skin glowed, barely illuminated by the tiny fire they dared to foster before them. The silk fluttered around her waist and he drew her into his lap. “Now you let me have you?” She grinned at him, impish and serene all at once. Helaena drew a moan from him as her fingers dove into his hair, tugging enough for him to feel it shoot straight to his cock as she tilted her head back. “For I am hungry too.”

They woke hours later, half dressed and tangled into one another. The fire died down but Vermax had come over in the passing of the night to curl his warm bulk against Jace’s back and keep the chill at bay. Helaena was already awake, staring up at the blanket of stars in the sky, her fingers stroking absently over his brow.

“We need to beat the dawn, for it shall burn away the shadows.”

With aching bones, Jace climbed up Dreamfyre, who let out a low grumble, and Helaena spoke to her in soothing, musical Valyrian, as if coaxing the dragon from her own dreams. Vermax was complaining like a child, but promptly quieted in response to Dreamfyre’s warning huff.

“We’re almost home, Dreamfyre,” Helaena reassured, and they took off into the sea of stars, racing to beat the dawn.

Hours passed, and Dreamfyre ducked beneath the clouds. The first thing that Jace registered is Vermax’s eager cry of joy and the responding sounds of dragon calls.

Dreamfyre let out her own call, and in the distance Jace could see two small dragons shoot up from seemingly nowhere.

It was Dragonstone, the black rock shooting up from the ocean and cutting through the early morning fog, the sun a blazing eye at the horizon. It was their ancestral seat, his ancestral seat, and they approached the shores, a dreamer and a someday king. Dragonstone, where he would take Helaena to the rocks and make her his wife, his future queen. Surrounded by the expanse of the Blackwater and the Narrow Sea, by dragons and by himself alone, Dragonstone was where he would keep her safe.

He would be a good prince, a good king, a good husband, and a better father. Jace pressed his mouth to the pulse in her throat and his arms tightened around her waist, fingers splayed possessively against her belly and he pulled her closer to him to keep her warm.

Her head turned, the wind pulling at her braids. Her smile was brighter than he’d ever seen and her eyes, his eyes, their eyes, met his. She was his hope, she was his future, she was his star chart coursing the way home across the seas.

“Welcome home, my dragon princess,” he murmured and she brushed her mouth against his, breathed in his exhale.

“Welcome home, my dragon prince.”

Vermax and Dreamfyre roared to greet the dawn.

I still am totally in love with this story and I hope you enjoyed it! I would absolutely love to hear what you think! If you want more Jacelaena, you can catch them in my Aegon x OC series The Maiden and the Drowning Boy, as well as some drabbles under my Jacelaena tag!

If you enjoyed this story, please reblog and spread the love!

#hotd fic #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #helaena targaryen #hotd helaena #jacelaena #jacaerys x helaena #jace x helaena #jacaerys fanfiction #helaena fanfic #my fics #hotd tag

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honeyynymphh · 2 months ago

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All This Sweet Work

|| Otto Hightower x Fem!Reader || Rating: E Words: 2k short ficlet 18+ MDNI ao3 link

As a lady-in-waiting to Queen Alicent, you strike up a friendship with the Hand of the King with whom you regularly meet under the pretence of relaying news about the Queen. Recently widowed, having only been married for a few months to a man who was quite unkind to her. you are eager to see Ser Otto for your meetings which then turn into regular dinners. You find yourself yearning for more than just his company, not knowing that he began the arrangement in order to see if you were suitable to marry his eldest son...but he has ended up wanting you for himself. Based on idea I had with @handofkings and @sucharide <3 There is no real lead up, this is as straight to the point as I've written before lmao tags: yearning, admittance of feelings, fingering, oral (f receiving), body worship, p in v, lots of smooching

The fire is warm, though the flames have grown small at such a late hour. You watch them as they dance slowly across the glowing embers within the grate and sigh, leaning back against the settee.

“The hour grows late, my lady,” comes the voice of Ser Otto. You turn your head to him, watching the firelight dance across his face, catching the remnants of red in his hair and making them shine. “You should return back to your rooms.”

You should return but you have no wish to do so. The wine in your belly has you warmed from within and you are too comfortable languishing in the Tower of the Hand to want to return to your empty room.

“If you wish me to leave, my lord hand, I shall retire.”

You stand carefully, smoothing down your dress as you do so. How many nights have you spent here? You could not recall. But they always ended the same—with an oddly awkward but polite farewell despite how easy and comfortable the conversation had been previously.

You knew more about this man than anyone else, even your queen. Though he was still somewhat of a mystery. A lady in waiting had no need to spend her hours with the Hand of the King yet here you were. You could barely recall how it had started all those weeks ago but you couldn't imagine your life without Ser Otto - which was a distressing thought. You would soon have to remarry and all of this would be gone. Again, you would belong to another and how you yearned for something like this…how you wanted to stay with him.

“I do not wish for that,” he says, stepping a little closer than is proper. “I would have you stay.”

His hand reaches toward you, slowly and a little unsure if his touch will be unwelcome. But it is not, and so you do not stop him from gently touching your cheek. His large hand is soft and warm, and it twists the awkward tension in your belly into pleasurable anticipation.

He comes closer, you can feel the weight of his cloak as it brushes against you. You can't help but lean into his touch, it had been so long since you had felt a touch as welcome as his. As you move, eyes briefly closing - just a mere moment as your body relishes in the touch - he sighs. He is so close that his breath ghosts against your skin and your eyes find his. They watch you carefully.

"Will you stay?" he asks. His voice is low, as if speaking any louder will destroy whatever spell is holding you both.

You nod. "Yes, my lord hand."

"Otto."

You smile softly. "Otto."

He moves quickly then, the hand on your cheek sliding into your hair as the other wraps around your middle to pull you into him. His mouth is against yours, insistent as he murmurs your own name against your lips like prayer.

The kiss deepens, there is no resistance when you’ve spent your days daydreaming about such an occurrence. You can taste the wine that lingers still on his lips and you’re lost to the sensation of his mouth devouring yours. It had been so long since you’d felt the touch of another, not that your late husband had ever kissed you in such a way before. Your skin itches with pleasure, desperate for more as you clutch at his doublet and press yourself against him. The responding growl that this elicits from Otto has you feverish with want.

“My lady…” His mouth leaves kisses against your jaw, neck until his nose is buried in your hair. “Forgive me.”

His actions betray his words as he makes no move to stop and you don’t either. A moan leaves you as his mouth tickles a spot behind your ear, his warm breath making your skin prickle deliciously in response.

“Ask me to stop and I will,” he says in that gravelly low voice you adore so much.

You can’t help but smile at his words, tilting your head towards him, his beard tickling your skin.

“I do not wish you to,” you say.

You manage to catch a glimpse of the expression on his face, a look of satisfaction at your words.

“Then who am I to deny you, sweet girl,” he replies, bringing you back against him.

His lips are on yours again, more insistent than before. Hands search and grip as you’re quickly steered towards his inner chambers. The room is bathed in the light from another fire, though its flames have died long ago leaving only the glowing embers. For a moment you wonder if you should be doing this, if this has suddenly escalated too fast. But there isn’t much room for thought nor reason as Otto’s long fingers quickly make work of the buttons on your dress before it pools to the floor at your feet. You shiver under his gaze, a look that nobody has ever given you before—it makes your skin tingle in anticipation. Your nerves creep back then, your past marriage had not been a pleasant one but it’s hard to remain unsure when Otto’s large and warm hands are against your skin as he peels away your small clothes. His touch is firm yet he doesn’t aim to dominate or bruise—the kind of touch you had sadly grown used to. As he caresses your skin you feel worshipped and a burning need of want grows stronger between your thighs as his hands skim across your skin. You suck in a sharp breath when they graze on the underside of your breasts and then drop low, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

“Lie down,” he whispers and you do so quickly, moving back against the large bed behind you.

It’s covered in soft sheets and furs, it feels luxurious against your bare skin. As much as you wish to relax and sink into the bed, your body is strung too tight with delicious tension as he follows your movements. His gaze is intense through his half lidded eyes as he moves toward you. Hands continue to move across your skin and your breath hitches when he suddenly hooks his large hands behind your knees and pulls your body toward him so that your legs are hanging off his bed. You go to sit up, surprised at his actions and hating the way your chest constricts nervously—this isn’t something that has ever happened to you before. Never had your late husband deigned to even think of your pleasure. Those horrible memories instantly flee when Otto sinks between your legs and his head moves between your thighs. The tickles of his beard as he kisses the softness of your inner thigh has you sighing and trembling as his lips inch closer to the apex of your thighs. Your back arches and your hands desperately grip at the soft furs upon the bed when Otto’s mouth is upon your cunt.

His tongue is insistent and demanding, you moan loudly as his nose presses against the bundle of pleasure between your legs. He groans in response and the sound vibrates through you as keeps his mouth busy, the burning feeling growing fast. You know the pleasure is going to break soon, you can feel the tension building and you twist against the bed as he continues to devour you. When his mouth moves higher and you feel him sucking on your swollen bud you can’t help but moan out his name. He growls against you again, obviously enjoying the sounds he’s able to pull from you as your hands desperately grab at his hair and press him against you, not caring how wanton you’re behaving.

He leans back then and you desperately try to move back toward him, eager for his mouth to return to your cunt. “Please—” Your words are cut short when long fingers are sliding through your slit and teasing at your core.

“You taste divine, sweetling,” he murmurs, amusement coating his words as you try to gain more friction from his fingers. “And you are more eager than I anticipated.” There are no words left as you linger in that aching space of desire, needing so much more and yearning for release. His mouth returns to your bud as two digits are finally sliding into you. It feels too good as he pumps them slowly, and you grind down against them as you beg for more. Finally his fingers move faster and you suddenly come quick and hard as he presses open mouth kisses against your cunt and thighs, beard tickling you as he does. The high of your pleasure is still washing over you and your body is slick with sweat as you pant. You manage to watch through heavy eyes as he stands—you can see your release on his face, his lips wet and shining with it. Your hands reach for the clasps on his doublet as you sit up on the bed, quickly trying to undo them. The buttons and claps are tricky and you fumble in your eagerness for him to be as bare as you.

Otto grabs your frantic hands and stills them so he can bring your mouth to his in a searing kiss, you taste yourself upon his tongue yet you don’t care. Desire builds anew within your belly and his hands drop yours so that he can divest himself of his clothes with practised ease. When he pulls back, you're both breathing hard and his chest is bared to you. Your eyes flick over his chest and your hands explore, threading through his greying chest hair. The years had softened what was once the body of a knight and your fingers trace the remnants of scars long healed with care. Your hands lower over his belly until you reach his breeches where you can clearly see the large bulge. Instinctively you reach and cup him through the cloth, making him shudder before you undo them.

“You will be my undoing, sweet girl,” he says as you take out his hardened length, pushing his breeches to the floor. “Lean back.”

You do as he says and he is upon you then, forcing you back onto the bed as he covers your body with his larger one. Your hand wraps around his cock, your movements a little unsure but the way he sighs your name has you guiding him between your legs. You need to have him within you and you can sense that he is reaching the limit of his own control.

When he slides into your warmth you cry out with relief, legs wrapping around him and pulling him in deeper. You feel split open and complete at the same time, your blood singing with want. The indescribable feeling of need crashes over you and your nails dig into his back, urging him to move. “I need—”

“I know, my darling girl.”

He moves slowly then, pulling back and sinking into you deeper. You cry out and tilt your hips before he does it again so he’s sinking even further. The fullness is overwhelming and when his mouth presses a gentle kiss upon your forehead you weep at the touch. Never had you felt so adored in that moment and he does it again, whispering against your cheek with soothing words. When he moves next, it’s fast and hard—and you cry out again. The tension within you is becoming tighter and you can feel another release upon you. Otto leans back, and one of his hands is between you so he can press against your swollen bud, making your words jumble as you babble for more.

The man relents, his fingers firmly teasing as his cock fills you. When you tilt your hips to meet him, your world goes bright as you come undone, tensions melting away as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your release continues and you cling to him when you feel him begin to move away from you, you can feel the way he is swelling within you and can’t bear to let him leave.

“Please, no,” you manage to say, finding his gaze. “Stay with me.”

There is a fleeting look in his eyes, you know later you will worry about this decision but in the moment you do not care. You know he is thinking the same, yet it is clear he also doesn’t care for whatever consequence there may be. The need to be joined is too strong for you both. Otto’s hands reach for yours and clasp them tightly, pinning them by your head against the bed. He thrusts into you with abandon then, chasing his pleasure and quickly building another flame within you. Your eyes close as you feel the peak come hurtling toward you as his release hits him, and you feel the warmth as he fills you, his unfiltered groans of pleasure only making your own pleasure crash again. When his movements are still, you untangle your hands from his and reach for his face, moving the hair that has fallen in his eyes.

He presses another kiss to your forehead and you sigh in relief as he falls beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is warm and your skin is coated in sweat as his seed coats your thighs. You know you should leave, that you should clean yourself up and remove yourself from his chambers. Yet you cannot make yourself leave his comforting embrace and tell yourself it shall be something to deal with when morning comes. After all, he had asked you to stay and who are you to deny the Hand of the King?

And the sunlight clasps the earth And the moonbeams kiss the sea: What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me? - excerpt from Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley

thanks for reading :)

#my-writing #fanfic #otto hightower x reader #otto hightower x female reader #otto hightower #otto hightower fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #fic: all this sweet work #ficlet #i wrote most of this on discord and its not the best but it was more to just write SOMETHING

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baronessvonglitter · 2 months ago

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The Haunting of David York

Dave York x ghost!reader

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: It's a typical Halloween night for Dave. The last thing he expects is for you to come back and get your revenge.

(Spoilers below the cut, so resume with caution)

WARNINGS: Rated M; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; mentions of wet work, murder, brief gore, threats of violence towards family, major character death (don't hit me)

Author's Note: this fic is for @mermaidgirl30 Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge 👻 thank you for hosting this lovely fic challenge!

The idea for this started out as a random discussion about why we're afraid of ghosts if they can't really hurt anyone.. then I wanted to add our favorite suburban murder daddy to a ghost story and got some inspo from watching old school stuff like Creepshow and early seasons of AHS. (I haven't written horror in a very long time, so gimme a little break)

Shoutout to @yorksgirl for the Dave chit chats-- there will be a sweatpants scene in another fic, promise!

"Dave, not again!" Carol whines from the front steps.

"What?" he asks innocently, hefting the human-sized 'body bag' consisting of garbage bags stuffed with leaves and tied up with duct tape to fashion a corpse decoration in the yard for Halloween. Dave has been working on them all day. He's now up to seventeen.

"The HOA is going to complain," his wife shakes her head. "We got away with a warning last year. This time they'll definitely fine us."

"It's worth it to see the looks on everyone's faces," he insists. "Besides, I'll have them picked up and out of sight by the end of the night. I promise."

Dave doesn't love Halloween, but neither does he mind it. People dressing up to be anything other than themselves for one night only? Try doing that 24/7.

He doesn't get to parade around the Mr. Hyde aspect of his life. He doesn't get to knock on doors while in tactical gear, sniper rifle resting in one arm while he sticks an orange jack-o-lantern bucket out to get a handful of tooth-rotting sweets. He doesn't get to wake up on November first and pretend it was all for fun.

It's a silly holiday, but he likes scaring the shit out of the neighbors with the decorations. And his kids love planning their costumes months in advance. Alice is going as a zombie cheerleader (he never understands where these ideas come from) and Molly is some type of Pokemon Dave thinks is a squirrel but she insists is something called an Evoo or Evie or something completely asinine.

Carol usually insists on taking them out trick-or-treating, dressing up herself in a last-minute Minnie Mouse getup, a red sweater and black leggings, and a headband with sequined mouse ears to complete the look.

"You'll be okay here by yourself?" she asks, putting the finishing touches on her mouse whiskers and nose with liquid eye liner in the hall mirror as the girls wait impatiently to leave.

She asks that every year, as if something bad will happen on his watch, as if he can't hack it alone for a couple of hours.

"Unless Michael Myers or Pennywise show up, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine," he says, giving the girls a quick kiss before they go.

"What's Pennywise?" Alice asks as Carol herds them out the door, and she shoots her husband an annoyed glance.

There aren't as many trick-or-treaters this year, and Dave regrets that he'd bought so much candy. He dips his hand into the large tub of mini chocolate bars and fruit-flavored chews that stick to one's teeth and selects some Nerds, eating them straight from the tiny box. With barely concealed disgust he finds the candy corn, plucking the small packets of the hated sweets out from the bowl. He doesn't know how anyone can eat these. These can go to the next kids who ring the doorbell. When the next round of costumed kids come around he gives out huge handfuls. The less sweets they have in the house, the less sugar-fueled meltdowns he's likely to experience from his kiddos.

When there's more of a lull he relaxes on the sofa, mindlessly unwrapping a chocolate bar as the Halloween song hums from the TV, The Nightmare Before Christmas playing where the girls had left it on:

Boys and girls of every age wouldn't you like to see something strange? come with us and you will see this, our town of Halloween

He finds his glass of Macallan pairs nicely with a mini Hershey's Special Dark chocolate that he knows the little trick-or-treaters won't appreciate. The candy rests on his tongue as he savors the lingering taste of the scotch while the movie keeps playing. He absorbs a little of it, a now thirty-year-old film that came out when he was his kids' age. He watches idly, letting the scotch lull him into a nice semi-rest.

This is Halloween, this is Halloween pumpkins scream in the dead of night this is Halloween, everybody make a scene trick or treat, 'til the neighbors gonna die of fright

Enough of the singing. He changes the channel. There's postseason baseball on TV, but his favorite team isn't in the playoffs, and the announcers are annoying. Click. Of course there's a horror marathon on every channel. All the Scream movies, which he can appreciate for their ingenuity, Psycho, Shaun of the Dead, the entire Friday the 13th franchise even though it's Thursday, the 31st.

He flips channels, mindlessly, watching tidbits of each, digging into the leftover candy once again when he hears a thud.

With feline alertness he mutes the TV and sits up straight in one swift move. He zones in on where the sound came from, waiting, his racing heart the most audible sound in his ears.

Most people listen for a sound and relax when they don't hear it again, chalking it up to the house settling, or a rodent in the attic. But Dave knows better. He's been on the opposite side of this type of situation countless times. He doesn't relax and just chalk it up to mundane things like other people, because he knows there are guys like him out there-- becoming one with the shadows, as silent as possible--

It's coming from the back door.

In stealth mode, he grabs his gun from the safe in his study and quickly, skillfully, loads it. Adrenaline sings in his veins, carries him towards the danger. He flips on the light switch for the patio and the lights glare into the dark, lighting up nothing. His gun is still in his hand as he slowly opens the door, listening for footsteps.

Quiet.

A little disappointed that he's gotten riled up for no reason, he sighs as the rush of adrenaline dissipates and leaves him weak for a brief moment.

He keeps the gun in the holster at his side as he returns to the sofa, a little more on edge. It could be just teenage assholes playing pranks out of boredom, but he doesn't want to risk it.

He shuts the TV off and the silence becomes the largest thing in the room, even louder than his thoughts. He's taut as wire, not allowing himself to relax just yet. He's listening for more sounds. Most are explainable: a slow drip in the kitchen sink that Carol told him about just yesterday, the notification pings on his daughter's tablet that she left on the dining room table.

"Fuck!" he curses in surprise as the TV turns on, The Nightmare Before Christmas still playing where it left off:

I am the one hiding under your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red I am the one hiding under your stairs fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair

Dave quickly snaps the TV off, removing the batteries from the remote.

It's just some electrical glitch he tells himself. And then the power goes out completely.

"Shit," he mutters, using his phone to light the way to locate the real flashlight. It's not in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink where it's supposed to be left. Carol must have moved it. He checks the garage. Through the windows he can see the neighbors still have power, so he grabs the trusty flashlight and checks the breaker box. After fiddling with it, it won't reset. The flips do absolutely nothing.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking out his phone from his pocket. The battery shows 1% before fizzling out to a black screen with the gray spinning wheel before dying.

"You've got to be shitting me," he grumbles. With another curse, he shoves the useless thing back in his pocket, letting the flashlight guide him out of the garage. He may as well get the keys and go try to find Carol and the girls, who are probably several blocks over by now, maybe get them to stay at her mother's place while he gets things sorted out with the power issue.

And then..

he hears the sound of his name spoken, a sharp. accusatory whisper, as if it's right next to him. It's so real he can feel the cold breath against his ear. It makes him jump out of his skin.

Alert, his body tense and ready for action, his eyes dart around the room as he begins to get his bearings back and his heart goes back to its normal rhythm.

Stupid.. he curses himself, sitting upright again. Annoyance colors his face.

But the sound of it.. of your voice still rings in his ear. And he'd know your voice among a thousand others.

Now he knows he's imagining things, because it couldn't have been your voice at all.

You're dead.

He doesn't want to think about that day, a cold autumn day just like this. In fact it'll be one year exactly on November 14th. The last day you saw sunlight, the last day you ever breathed.

It's not that you were bad, you were just in the way. There was no room for you in Dave's perfect, clock-precision life. He tried to make your end painless, make sure you didn't see it coming.

Some secrets don't stay buried forever..

Nobody knows he assures himself. It's impossible.. He'd even kept it from his teammates, and they knew nearly every damn thing about him.

No, this particular job.. the handling of you, had to be done on his own.

Casting a glance at the backyard patio again, the light from his neighbor's back porch glows eerily, spotlighting the patch of earth Dave had avoided until finally he'd caved and erected a bird bath with a small garden, a surprise for Carol's birthday. His wife never suspected that you were buried there, beneath her gift.

Without thinking, he's already walking outside, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, leading the way to your grave. He never comes out here anymore. The guilt has become too crushing and he's not a man who dwells on guilt. He does what he has to and revisits the issue if problems arise.

You won't arise, though. When he closes his eyes he can still see the bullet hole in your temple, the blank look as the light left your eyes.

Forgive me, he'd thought, unable to speak it aloud as he stuffed your body in a bag and placed you in the dirt on a moonless autumn night.

When he reaches the stone path that leads to your innocent-looking grave marker, he has to process what he sees:

there's a hole in the ground, where some of the rocks and flowers around the bird bath have been upheaved, and in the breeze his flashlight shines on a tattered, empty black body bag. The scent of death greets his nostrils as he pales, trying not to vomit.

He goes back to the house, immediately on the defensive, irrationally expecting to find you there, clothes dirty and hair caked with mud and blood, a specter of his own paranoia and guilt.

It's still shrouded in darkness, the home that is supposed to be his shelter from such dark things as yourself. It's his domain, his castle, and in this trouble, without his family, he feels like less of a king.

"There's no fucking way," he mutters, stomach roiling with fear and suspicion. He opens the patio door and steps inside.

The whole place smells of death, of the grave.

You're in every corner, quiet, waiting, watching. But not impassive.

He feels you everywhere, himself made small by your ubiquitous pall. The gun in his hand feels useless, and this makes him angry.

You feed off his anger. You love it. It's the only thing you can feel anymore. Pure, unadulterated hate.

You slither towards him, wicked grin growing bigger as you approach him. Dave gets the chills down his back, not knowing just how close you are to him.

"Boo" you whisper lightly, ghostly breath caressing the shell of his ear.

Your cackling thunders in his ears as he whips around, eyes wide with fright. You delight in the fear he's giving off. The scent of it it so intoxicating. It's the only good thing about being dead.

"I should make your death as nice and quick and clean as you made mine" your voice echoes all around the room. Dave looks equal parts pissed and afraid as he tries to track you.

"But I won't."

You've been waiting for this night, this one unholy night where you'd be allowed to come back, to gather the unearthly powers granted to you. Halloween: the one night of the year when the living come back to haunt the dead.

And the son of a bitch had the gall to kill you in November. You had to wait almost a whole year for your revenge.

Gonna make it sweet.

It takes a lot of energy to assume something of a human form, but as you grab onto the fear he's giving off, as you use the most ancient of forces to pull your corporeal parts together, it gets easier. You don't feel afraid. You haven't, not since he killed you.

"Consider yourself lucky it's only you I'm after. If I had my way your family's blood would be splattered on these walls along with yours."

Dave shivers violently. "Please, don't!" He's not used to begging or pleading. He's actually on his knees. He tries not to look at you; your visage is too grotesque. Your flesh is falling off your face and your eyes are sunken into your head, giving a ghoulish appearance.

You force his gaze upon you with the ice-cold touch of your hand. "Your family is safe. For now. Hell, there's always next Halloween."

With the cracking open of his ribcage and the spilling of his guts you reach into him, finding the fullness of the heart, the organ he uses the least.

All Dave can do is scream and scream and scream.

The next day Carol sits at the dining room table, two detectives with her. Her coffee has grown cold, barely touched. She still bears the remnants of the makeup she'd put on to complete her costume last night. The girls are upstairs. She couldn't bear sending them to school, having them apart from her. Not while Dave is missing.

"He was fine last night. Normal," she adds, shrugging as she dabs at her eyes with a Kleenex.

Because of his position as a government agent, his disappearance is being taken very seriously. Officers are en route, dispatched to start searching the area, especially the nearby woods, which Carol has always feared.

Dave's gun is there, his wallet, phone, and keys also left behind.

One of the field officers comes in (there have been many people coming in and out of the house today) and motions to the backyard. "Halloween decoration?"

"Yeah," Carol sniffles, smiling just a little. "Dave likes to shock the neighbors. He promised he'd put them away before the morning.. but he never puts them out back.."

Out of guilt, or maybe just to give herself something to do, she gets up and goes to put the decorations away. The detectives follow.

Funny. There's just one.. she thinks, looking at the lone body bag on the lawn, tossed haphazardly next to her bird bath.

It's heavier than she expects. She's too petite to pick it up. Sighing, she kneels, the crunch of the fallen leaves beneath her knees. She'll just take the leaves out and throw the bag away.

Ripping it open with her nails she's stunned a moment, not processing what she's seeing before she lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Wrapped up in the duct taped body bag is what's left of Dave.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

tagging @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @salingers @zascal

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dave york #dave york fic #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #halloween writing challenge #halloween fic #ghost fic

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freakcliff · 4 months ago

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iwtv fanfic friday: random fics from my bookmarks with less than ~200 kudos

wanted to make sure the stuff i was linking wasn't stuff everyone's read so i tried to go for the less popular works in my bookmarks

filthy with a twisted tongue by @shineforthee. 4k

Reach out to touch a dead guy’s face one time and he takes off. It’s not like it’s thrusted Daniel into a bottomless pit of despair and psychosis or anything, so who cares? (Nobody, that’s who. Not a damn soul even knows he’s here.) The smell of stale sweat and hot sugar clings in the air. A stained piece of flannel covers the window but light trickles in through the threadbare fabric, so it must be daytime. He tries to remember if it was daytime last time he looked, but it wouldn’t do anything to give him a sense of how many days he’s been here anyway.

value form by leavethebees. 4k, M

"Hey, I'm a journalist," Daniel protests. "I follow the story, and you just tried to set a guy's head on fire. That's front-page news." "Chasing stories," Alice says in an unimpressed, withering tone. "You're a romantic, then. That's worse, you know."

relentless, unbearable by eggalbumin aka @pollyclonolly. 2k

Louis taps his arm. He looks lovely tonight, and his eyes are brilliant under the bar’s light. He’s as beautiful as he is in the memory that exists in Daniel’s head, of the first time they met at Mary’s. The glimmer in his eyes, the smoke curling in tendrils around his lips, the way he smiled as he said, I did a terrible thing, once. He smiles, and it’s lined with sweetness. “You bored?” “An unreasonable amount,” Armand says. He’s not, and he knows he’s not. Louis knows, too. He could spend every day for the rest of his never-ending life chasing the shape of Daniel’s shadow and it wouldn’t bore him. He drinks whatever is left in his glass and it tastes like chalk in his mouth. Sometimes, he thinks he’ll always be trying to chase down the taste of Daniel’s blood in his throat, with Louis and alcohol and prey, and it will still find a way to linger on his tongue for as long as he lives. “Weddings are long, dull affairs. I don’t see the appeal.” (It’s 1982. Daniel’s wedding is a pleasant, lively affair.)

isaiah 43:2 by quentsy. 2k

Paul de Pointe du Lac was dead, to begin with. This was to be distinctly understood.

the whole world was ready to return by exastris_scientia aka @keepoffthetardis . 2k

There he was. Standing just outside the halo of light given off by a streetlight. His face was shadowed, but even from the distance I was at, I could see how sunken his eyes were, how tired. And how blue they glowed. Like church windows, Grace had once said. Burning like two cold fires in the night. “Been a while,” was all Daniel said when he saw me. Louis and Daniel revisit the ethics of murder. In spite of it all, they also have a little fun with it.

rocket man by quentsy. 5k, M

It was a bad idea, but that was the story of his life, yeah? Bad decision after bad decision, the longest love affair of his life. If the first was racing, and the second was heroin, then here was the third: Armand and all the scraps he tossed Daniel’s way, just enough to keep the hunger at bay.

GOODREADS by riverrio. 1k

Interview with the Vampire Daniel Molloy 3.75 STARS 328473 RATINGS 5238 REVIEWS 285 pages, Hardcover First published September 15, 2022 FILTER REVIEWS SORT ORDER POPULAR REVIEWS ONE STAR

among the wildflowers by ipsilateral. 2k

"You're soft," Jonah whispers. He touches Louis's jaw. There he goes still smiling, like it's a revelation, like he oughta be in wonderment about it all. "You don't seem like it but you soft, Louis." Louis stares up at him. There's the anger, whipping at his heart and making it race like a horse on a track, but beyond that is something else, too. Something that makes him almost tremble under Jonah's open smile. For the briefest of moments, Louis allows himself to believe that softness is a pure good, through and through. -- a few of Louis's core memories

#cleb talky #fic recs #gud writes #iwtv #interview with the vampire #iwtv fanfic friday #amc iwtv

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momentomori24 · 5 months ago

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Keiji is a character that I'm pretty sure every one of us can recognize is an absolute weirdo (ok maybe some are too hard on copium for the "weirdo" part) and sketchy as hell, but thinking about everything he's done it really feels like he's so much shady and ruthless than we give him credit for. So here's me bulletpointing some the moments that I haven't seen too many talk about, a little theory throwing his status into question and addressing the massive elephant in the room that almost everyone refuses to acknowledge. If there's something else you feel I missed or wanted to evaluate on, do leave it in the comments.

[Also, disclaimer: I will be discussing Keiji and Sara in a romantic light near the end of this post, so if that makes you uncomfortable please proceed with caution or skip entirely. This should go without saying but for my own sake I will say it anyway-- No, I do not condone their relationship in real life. No, this is not meant to be "shippy" or endorsement of any kind. This will simply be pointing out their dynamic as another example to prove the whole point of this rant. But if someone else does ship them that's totally fine. Fiction doesn't equal reality and if you harass a real person over fictional characters you will not see the light of heaven. Be civil, please and thank you. My block button is rated E for Everyone and if anyone decides to ignore the warnings and be an asshole I won't hesitate to use it. Thanks for listening. Disclaimer over.]

*Being a murderer.

I feel like I should start with the most obvious and undeniable. I don't think this is debatable to anyone here. Mr. Policeman may have been an accident and kinda confirmed by Midori to have been set up, but he still shot and killed an unarmed man in a moment of panic and recklessness. Even putting that aside, there's no denying that he killed Megumi in cold blood to get out of his debt to her and covered it up to the group to preserve his credibility. Regardless of what you think of Megumi, he has no excuse here. Not only is he one more kill away from being a serial killer, he's the only participant in our group that has actually killed people directly aside from Alice. Another reason why I bring this up is cuz something that completely flew over my head is this:

At the start of the game he had the audacity to complain about not having a partner or someone he knows with him like Sara does as if he didn't literally let Megumi get ripped apart by chains probably not even an hour ago Keiji what the hell--

*Throwing Kanna under the bus repeatedly.

Despite positioning himself as a protector and someone to rely on, he's far from above putting their youngest members in danger. Next to voting for the fourteen year old girl to die, he had the great idea of letting said fourteen year old be the one to babysit their biggest liability. Up to the point where they would stay in the same room both day and night. While I absolutely 100% trust that Sou would never EVER do anything to her, Keiji had no guarantee of that when he send her off. Hell, he literally just got done accusing Sou of setting Joe up to die (which I don't believe almost solely based on the fact that he said it, more on that another time maybe). He knew Sou was bad news, and openly acknowledges how adults can be terrifying, but he did it anyway. The dubiety of throwing the already traumatised little girl to keep watch on what they thought to be the most dangerous adult that had manipulated her once before is not lost on me, and that he didn't take any responsibility for her afterwards isn't lost on me either. To be fair, the Sou and Kanna thing doesn't just fall on him, it falls on everybody (Alice gets a pass because he actually swapped out with Kanna to watch Sou for her), but he was the one with the final say on the matter and who encouraged her to take the role despite Reko's rightful protests. The fact that he also voted for her to die in the Main Game, and is the only adult to do so, doesn’t help his case.

*Attempting to frame Sou knowing Reko was actually responsible.

While you could argue he was trying to cover for her since he knew why she did what she did, trying to pin this act on Sou to cast more doubt on his is extremely shitty. Never mind the blatant corruption and the irony of a supposed man of the law abusing his power to knowingly frame an innocent person (in this situation at least), and him sowing more seeds of confusion and resentment within an already rattled group, and giving Sou legitimate reason to be suspicious of him (and by extension Sara)-- this makes it so difficult to trust him after realising he's done this. Literally every time he accuses someone of being or doing something suspicious (mostly Sou), I always have to think in the back of my head if he’s telling the truth or just telling a blatant lie. He's shown that he's willing to not only lie to cover for himself, but to lie to delegitimize someone else. And Sara never caught onto it (Sou and maybe even Nao likely did tho). She never openly acknowledged it-- No one did. The complete lack of mention of what he did here makes this action quite missable. Hell, I didn't even catch it the first time. Has he done this before? Who else has he lied about? Who else would he lie about? Who else would he knowingly pit against the group? You don't have to wait for that answer, because I will provide an example later. And with "later", I mean now.

*Casting suspicion on Gin before the vote while hiding the fact that he killed Megumi.

While it's not as blatant as with Kanna, there are two instances where Keiji shows a readiness to either put or leave Gin in harm's way. The biggest one for me is in the Main Game. Like, how dare you. That is a furry child, sir. This kid’s like TWELVE. Even though he makes a valid point about calling out suspicious actions to clear them up so we can all trust each other, casting doubt on Gin of all people right there feels pretty screwed to me. This was before the preliminary vote. His words could’ve very well gotten Gin voted for if he couldn’t disclose why he did what he did for whatever reason and therefore being unable to clear himself from suspicion. It’s even more fucked when you realise that Keiji has literally murdered his partner and is currently planning to get Sou killed while giving this whole spiel about doubting others so that we can believe them and pointing the finger at a little kid to make an example to the group. But when Nao, Sou and Sara call him out on his suspicious actions that could rightfully damage his credibility, he tries to shut them down completely. My brother in Christ, you brought it on FIRST (don’t get me wrong I’m very much aware he didn’t really mean the whole “trusting each other” bit but come on dude)--

Speaking about not meaning what he says:

*Letting the group think he’s Ok to vote for knowing he’s the Keymaster.

This kinda got to me because I thought this was Keiji actually being… vulnerable? Accepting the consequences of his actions and allowing them to vote for him in their distrust without protest even tho it could cost him his life, maybe. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I can’t remember a lot of times-- or any times, really-- where Keiji has willing put himself into the line of fire, at this point at least. He always finds a way to keep himself safe, give himself insurance, and I thought that this would be the one time he doesn’t do that. But this feels so ominous looking back knowing that he was the Keymaster the whole time. That our distrust and betrayal and his resignation to it all didn’t matter because he was going to be safe no matter what. That he knowingly allowed us to assume that he was a safe vote because he didn’t want his plan to kill Sou to be ruined, which narrowed down choice of people we can safely vote for even further. That this action is ultimately the reason why Sou and Kanna were our only options to kill off in the end. If he had admitted it there, we could’ve found someone else to vote for so our final options could consist of three people, not two. But he didn’t, and the rest is history. There’s a lot of things he’s done I can’t get over. This one ranks pretty high. The second Main Game is already a huge sore spot for me for obvious reasons; knowing that a lot of the things that happened were due to his inaction where it truly mattered and activity in all the wrong places doesn’t make me fee any better. He didn't say he was a safe vote-- he didn't lie-- but his words carefully omit that voting for him means a total party death, something he should've stated then (and before this, really).

*Leaving Sara with the sacrifice card.

Despite making a big show about “always being by her side” and being her “reliable policeman”, he chose to look away when she was in real danger. He attached himself to her as her right hand man, made her shoulder the responsibility of being the leader, constantly manipulated and flattered her to win her trust and gain her favour-- but when she needed him the most, he basically left her for dead because it was the most beneficial to him. Keep in mind that not only did he know about her getting the sacrifice (he was also the sage so he'd have seen the trade happen), but he had the tokens to help her get rid of it. But those tokens weren’t for her life. They were for his. He used them instead to give himself the Keymaster as insurance for the Main Game (the Keymaster he stole from Sou/Kanna most likely to buy Sara’s trust btw). His desperation for survival outweighed his sense of obligation to keep her safe, and that’s the most subtle yet transparent he’s been about his selfishness. What makes this so much worse is that Keiji is our support character. He’s an ally, and our closest one at that, to the point where Sara burned her hands in a futile attempt to rescue him and signed her life away to save his. And yet his loyalty and protectiveness pale in comparison to other characters. Compare his actions to Sou’s: one of their many parallels and similarities is that both their girls get hit with the sacrifice card. As we’ve established, Keiji was fully aware of Sara being send the sacrifice by Sou, had 50 tokens ready to go and chose to secure his own survival than save her life. Kanna ended up doing it instead, attempting to trade the card off Sara with Sou realising what happened immediately. And what does Sou do? Completely bend over backwards trying to keep her alive. He lied about being the Sacrifice so the others wouldn’t suspect Kanna of having that role, meaning he could try gathering vote for her without anyone seeing his true intentions. He tried to stop her about coming out with the truth of what she had done so she doesn’t sentence herself to death. After everything he did to survive-- after how much he lied, how much he schemed, how much he hurt, and how he had thrown himself away to replace everything that made him Shin with the man that had traumatised him years before the game began to scrape together even the tiniest chance to survive-- he threw it all to the wind and was willing to let it all be in vain if it meant she got to make it out of the Main Game alive. The worst part is that Sou had never intended to make it through that Main Game. He confessed to already knowing that Kanna would choose Sara over him if she truly had the Sacrifice card. Yet he still did what he did all in the hopes that she could win. Because it was all about her survival first, not about them surviving together.

It also gives a different context to Sou's panic and him stumbling over his words trying to come up with any argument to get them to stop. At first I thought that Sou was afraid for his life. Which would make sense-- Keiji and Q-taro set him up to die and seemed pretty adamant on having everyone voting for him to get it all over with. But he was already prepared to die the minute he realised Kanna traded with Sara. So it means it wasn’t his life he was fearing for here-- it was hers. To him, if they voted for him there, it wouldn’t have just been his end but hers too. But we know that Kanna isn’t the one who has the sacrifice. It’s Nao, and considering how the Main Game can end either or both of them dead, I wonder if he regrets not having given up there, not letting Keiji get away with that shitty stunt he pulled knowing it would’ve at least guaranteed her safety than leave her fate in hands of a girl with enough reason to kill her. Ignoring the sounds of my heart shattering into pieces for the 100th time thinking about the Greenblings, it’s so fascinating that our biggest rival and most distrusted member has a greater sense of loyalty and responsibility for his ally than Keiji has for his own. Sou can be a liar and manipulative and selfish, but for how unpredictable he is something I can always trust is his love for those he holds dear (Kanna) and general desire to protect our most vulnerable (Gin). Sou loves Kanna, and so he’s fine with protecting her even if it comes at a price he never wanted to pay. Keiji surely cares about Sara, but unfortunately that is something I can’t say about him-- at least at that time (also the fact that Sou ended up taking more care and responsibility for Kanna despite Keiji having been the one to throw her on him in the first is so ironic).

*Continuously pushing Sara to take on the role of leader.

I think one of Keiji's biggest failures in the game come from his treatment of Sara despite positioning himself as her most reliable ally and her partner. From the very get-go, he was very adamant of making Sara be the one to shoulder the responsibility of the group. He, along with Joe (he didn't do anything wrong here), pushed Sara to be the Challenger during the Russian Roulette, despite Q-taro and Kai being readily available. He made Sara be the one to interrogate the suspicious convict while distancing himself from the situation. And he encourages her to lead them through the Main Game, lets her make the choices that steer them all forward and as a consequence take the fall for them as well. Rather than take on the role himself, or let another adult take it, he places his full trust in her and makes her shoulder everyone's weight so he doesn't have to. And he can see the effect it has on her: having horrific hallucinations due to the immense guilt she feels. But having Sara as their leader gives him a greater shot at survival and helps his credibility, so even though he tries to provide her comfort he still continues to keep her in that role. Again, the high schooler taking responsibility for the adults falls on a lot of the older people here, but Keiji was the one who kickstarted it rather than just go along with it like everyone else had. Gin, Nao, Kanna, Reko and even fucking Sou to an extent all have moments where they take the burden off her and relieve her of that pain she shoulders all the time (or at least try to). I need Keiji to take more responsibility for both the group and for her.

*Pitting Sara and Joe against each other.

This is just another example of the previous point. This isn't as bad, and I could give him the benefit of the doubt that this might have not been intentional, but it's something I want to bring up regardless. I'll be the first to say that Keiji wasn't wrong here. Prying into everyone's votes is a very bad move, especially since no one knew that Mishima would actually die (it was introduced as a practice round, after all). I agree with him, Joe was being rash, but instead of leaving the conversation there, he decided to throw Sara into it to pick a side. Which is... not good. He already won the argument and already had Reko on his side. Bringing in Sara could not only make Joe feel worse and potentially strain their relationship (especially if she rightfully chooses Keiji's side like he was expecting and hoping for), but just puts Sara in the spotlight during something she doesn't want to be part of. While there's a chance he might've done this because he know Joe is more likely to listen to her than him, he should've known better than that. It again makes her take the responsibility of giving the final verdict that would've otherwise gone to him.

*Asking Sara to take responsibility for his life

I've got nothing other that the grown adult swearing his life to the grieving, unstable teenager to take responsibility for while asking her if she'd die along with him is weird as heck. Keiji's said weirder things prior to this, but this one is a different weird. I think Beanieman's post mostly echoes my thoughts on this on, so I'll link it here for this point. This part kinda bothers me:

He shouldn't be encouraging her taking on anymore responsibility than she already is. He knows that the deaths that happened under her leadership haunt her. He knows that she's very much unstable enough already, to the point where he takes baby-steps to avoid triggering her trauma over Joe. He positioned himself as her reliable partner, her rock to lean on (quite literally sometimes). We see first hand how emotionally dependent she is on him. If he died, it would destroy her-- she'd destroy herself over it. He knows this (or should) but he still does it. His disappointment and dismissiveness when she understandably rejects him makes it worse. The guilt of potentially not living up to his expectations is not what she needs.

*Potentially working for Asunaro

This is more ambiguous than everything else here and more a theory than anything but it's been on my mind for a long time that Ranmaru might actually be onto something here. We know that Asunaro has a strong hold on the police. Midori was able to infiltrate the force, and they were able to get rid of Mr. Policeman for looking into the corruption going on, first having Megumi fire him and secondly getting Keiji to kill him by planting false info about the suspect having a gun. Megumi was also able to get Keiji off the hook for murder, which I believe Asunaro had a hand in too (I theorize this might've been her wish). There's also Alice, who was arrested and sent to prison despite the fact that he (legally) didn't kill anyone since Midori was a doll. The police are connected to Asunaro-- by extension Megumi and extending further potentially Keiji.

Something I've seen someone rightfully point out is that neither of the options you're given to say in response to the accusation... actually deny it? Both choices dance around answering directly, which is suspect as fuck. If Keiji truly wasn't with Asunaro, why not shut that theory down immediately? There's no benefit to answering anything but "no" when he's innocent, and he's lied straight to people's faces for less. So why not just debunk it? I think it's cuz there might be some truth to what Ranmaru was saying here. The biggest reason I think this is because despite the fact that Keiji quit the force, he and Megumi were still associating with each other years later. They were kidnapped together and partnered up for their first trial. One missable piece of dialogue is Keiji admitting that he was with his partner-- or rather a "coworker"-- before getting knocked out.

That slip of the tongue and backtracking makes me believe this part to be true. Him switching from "my partner" to "a coworker", which is a lot more distant and impersonal, makes me think it's got to be Megumi. However, I don't believe that Keiji would wanna keep in touch with her after what happened willingly, so I can only imagine that it's due to that debt he has to her. My little game theory here is that after the shooting, the debt he owed her was a forced recruitment into Asunaro. It's the only thing I can imagine he meant by "the worst kind of debt", a debt he'd literally let her die for to get out of. And if this is true, then it could also explain away his instant attachment to Sara, since he'd know beforehand that she's someone he can depend on due to her having the highest chance at survival. Maybe he already knew about her beforehand, one way or the other. We know Hayasaka did (which I think we as a fandom moved on from way too fast btw). Kai and Sou did too. There's always a chance. And unlike Sou's victory rate and Midori's favourite number, it's not zero. One person made a comic about this idea I recommend checking it out, it's tastefully unsettling. But still very much unsetling and uncomfortale. Be warned that it's also Keisara-centred, so if that makes you even more uncomfortable they did the job right you can ignore it. Proceed with caution or don't read if you don't like.

*Being a predator

I have been waiting so long for this one XD For context: a while ago I made a longpost discussing the sanitisation of soushin and this kind of toxic attitudes in fandoms regarding "problematic content" (ships, characters, shows, you name it). In it, I mentioned that it's not only soushin that receives this treatment but a certain other dynamic too. It's not a rainy day, however this has been way overdue and if I don't get this done now I never will.

Something I've seen a lot, and I mean a LOT-LOT is this notion that Keiji acts "like a father" to Sara and that their relationship is a completely platonic father-daughter bond and that he's the resident dad of the group? Like, it's cute, but that's not at all what their relationship is. At all. Not even a little bit. We called Sou and Kanna siblings before the Greenblings reveal. The difference is that not only does half the fandom think this man is gay, but he's only ever been protective and caring and loving without any romantic intentions towards Kanna ever. His title as her brother was deserved, based on the genuine affection and platonic protectiveness similar to that of Alice's. Keiji has made advances tho, on many occasions, and his flirting is repeatedly acknowledged by other characters. Namely Sou and Reko.

(Sou grills him for being a creep every chance he gets I love him XD) But yeah, these are not the type of reactions and comments you receive when being a "father-figure" to the teenager. You get all this when you hit on the teenager. Which he does all the time by calling her "cute" every time she asks something and his "cute little detective", swearing himself to her by saying that "he's always on her side" or something like that, asking her if she'd die alongside him, repeatedly claiming or insinuating that they're on a date, or ""having a moment"" and going to ""take the next step"" when in private (*cough* groomer *cough*)-- you name it, he likely said it. He's a walking-talking ladykiller machine and teenage girls aren't safe, apparently.

(Quick note: The dialogue for the Russian Roulette one is a tad different now. In the new translation he says "cause you're so darn cute" now. I dunno if that makes it sound any less weird, but I felt like putting that out there. What I'm also putting out there is that according to the trivia he calls her cute 8 times throughout the game so. Yeah. *Cough* groomer *COUGH COUGH*)

Like, who tf says this?? Especially that last part 💀 Even if you wanna die on the hill that these are supposed to be "jokes" not to be taken seriously, we should all be able to agree that the (ex)police officer in his late 20s jokingly hitting on the high schooler he follows around is still weirdo behaviour at best and down right despicable at worst. The fandom seeing lowkey predatory/inappropriate behaviour from a figure of authority persistent for almost three entire chapters and dismissing it as "fatherly" and "platonic" is, well, concerning. It's very concerning. If your dad acts like Keiji, you should probably call the police. Unfortunately for Sara, Keiji is the police. And considering this guy got away with manslaughter, I don't think said police would do anything anywho. But yeah-- he uses flattery and flirting to distract her from prodding to much at him while simultaneously aiming to gain favour in her eyes. He showers her with reassurance of his loyalty and affirmation of his deeper attachment towards her and her alone every chance he gets to cement his position as her closest and most trustworthy ally. He insinuates a romantic partnership between them to others to mostly keep her to himself or the two of them alone (he always does that when they're investigating or going to investigate by themselves). There's such an obvious romantic undertone to their relationship and his actions that it going almost completely ignored in the fandom feels weird to me.

I want to make clear that there's nothing wrong with headcanoning Keiji as a father figure to Sara. It's cute. Keiji didn't have a dad himself, and the closest thing to a father figure he had was the man he shot dead. He's a damaged and hardened guy. But Sara's dad is involved with Asunaro and Gin's is an alcoholic, and in a situation where they both need guidence and protection he tries his best to grow and change, fumbling to become that decent father none of them got to have. It's nice, and a wholesome dynamic for our "characters with memorandum counterparts and only non-determined deaths" trio. But that's obviously not what their dynamic is. There's a difference between headcanoning something and erasing canon and the Yttd fandom leans heavily into the latter. Keiji's a creep, he always has been, yet 90% of people I see always portray him as a Mr. Dad Guy or completely sanitise him to hell when him being creepy and unnerving to be around is what made him such a fascinating character. Just like I said with Soushin, the sanitisation to make canon more digestible is one thing: harassing or insulting the people that explore canon is another. I'm gonna take a bullet, derail this rant and say it-- Keisara shippers get so much shit for literally being right it's so infuriating. Keiji does hit on Sara, a lot. He's creepy and weird like that. Him flirting with her isn't a "mistranslation" or a joke or anything like that; his dubious wording and antics are very much intentional. Yet the only people I see actually addressing and acknowledging that without adding fluff is keisara shippers and other ""proshippers"" only for them to get fucking sniped for it I cannot 💀💀 I have yet to meet a single eastern fan who calls this cop "fatherly". This really feels like such a western issue cuz the majority of the japanese fandom agrees that this man's a predator (correct me if i'm wrong but keisara is the most popular ship in the japanese side of the fandom, right?). Then again, eastern fandoms are more chill over there when it comes to separating fiction and reality in general anywho.

*Yeah, I think I'm done with the Keiji slander. Yay. Time to unceremoniously end this.

There's more to say about that, but this is a Keiji post, not another shipping discourse post (although it's hard discussing Keiji's predatory behaviour without bringing it up too). Before I do spiral from the original point, I'm going to try and reach some sort of conclusion here. While I did spent the majority of this post just reading Keiji to filth, and am very salty towards him in particular, this was not just to rake him through mud for my own sanity (tho it's part of it XD). Keiji's character is that he started off as someone who wanted to do the right thing, someone who wanted to be good and moral and protect others by joining the force only to kill all the progress he made along with the person who inspired him to become an officer in the first place. It heavily contrasts the Keiji we have now, a sleazy, unreliable and corrupt ex detective who flirts with underage girls and is willing to resort to the most bankrupt of decisions to save himself. A man that has long lost hope of his wounds healing that he lets them fester and his rot spread onto others. And while I headcanon Keiji to just inherently be a piece of shit, his former self tried his best to be genuinely good before he became so convinced he can never be better that he made peace with his shittiness in the end.

With all this I wanted to highlight some the shadier and bankrupt things he's done that I haven't seen much discussion around and refresh myself on them before the final part. Both so no matter how emotionally dependent and therefore rose-tinted Sara is about the man I don't forget what he's actually like and what he's done while also being able to appreciate how much he's changed for the better. Some of my favourite examples about how he's changed are these:

Before the second Main Game Keiji was willing to let Sara and Kanna die because it was the most beneficial option for him, but in Chapter 3 he takes the on the role of "it" from Kanna and refuses to tag Sara when he thought he was gonna die after failing to beat Midori.

Actually showing more sympathy towards Sou after the Main Game. He was very mean about dismantling his pretence of a cold front to Kanna's death, don't get me wrong, but he showed a lot more consideration and understanding for Sou's feelings and acknowledgement about his active role in it than he ever had beforehand.

He was genuinely fighting for everyone to survive the game, not just himself. While Keiji would prefer everyone making it out safely, he has a tendency to guarantee his own survival first through any means necessary. His plan to corner Midori in the banquet could've cost him his life if it weren't for Q-taro's final stunt, yet he still reassured Sara to save Gin even tho it could've resulted in his execution from Meister potentially finding him guilty of violating the rules.

Him hugging Mai and trying to be more cheerful was cute as heck. I'm sorry but him showing more vulnerability around his allies and being less closed off in a way he hasn't been before is something I'm very head empty about. That he was hugging and interacting with Mai without making any unwanted advances or ladykiller jokes and generally just having a more friendly vibe was nice. It makes his creeping on Sara more unfortunate, but I'll take what I can for now. The bar is in hell.

And that's it, I think. Overall, I hope they do address some of his actions here in the final part or make them have an impact on his and Sara's relationship. Especially that Asunaro part. The person who wished for Sara to join the death game is still unknown and so is Keiji's consent form wish (same goes for the Dummies, Hinako and Megumi), so I'm curious if they're related or not. If he's going to go down an even darker path or redeem himself as much as he can we'll see when the final part drops. He has the potential to go both ways. This is going to be kinda awkward if the next part reveals him to have been a decent guy all along, so hopefully that doesn't happen. Please be morally bankrupt, man. This post didn't end up the way I wanted it to, nor bring up as many points as I would've liked, but I know I won't finish it if I went full perfectionist on it (I already spent months on this writer's block do be a bitch) and it's looking kinda long already. Hopefully it's still decent enough as is right now. I'd like to say that this is my apology for the last longpost I made, but I brought up one of the most controversial and hated ships and traits of Keiji's character and defended them, so maybe I shouldn't 🙃 Anywho, hope you enjoyed and cheerio.

#yttd #your turn to die #keiji shinogi #keisara #character discussion #apologies to all the keiji fans i promise i'm one of you. sorta #he's one of my faves in the game and ranks pretty high but not for the reasons he should i think #keiji's one of those characters i feel negatively about yet want to learn and do more with so that's the energy i probably give off here #also i noticed that most of these points involve sara which makes sense but is also very sad when you think about it #there's a lot of other things i'd want to expand on (mainly that last point) but i suppose i can wait another day #this is going to be my last longpost in a while because i'm going to be busier from today for better or for worse. probably for better lmao #last reminder to be nice. this isn't twitter but i know better #i'll beta read it again later for any mistakes i missed so apologies for any potential typos or errors #also it might actually rain today so heck yeah #i'm a soushin shipper so happy keisara week to anyone that participates btw ^_^#momento rambles

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mithrilhearts · 2 months ago

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Maeve's 4k Follower Event

Battle of the Plot Bunnies

2024 has been a great year of finishing up fics for me, so it's time to unveil some new ones! I'm so excited to be able to do this, and have you guys help me essentially decide which fic gets tossed into the actual WIP pile next! Which is to say, THANK YOU for your continued support!

There are eight plot bunnies I've plucked from my Ideas list that I'm interested in developing further. Some of them have drabbles already, some have a little outlining attached, and some have barely even a working title.

Each fic will have a small summary and some bullets of information attached to it so you get an idea of what the plot/concept is!

✨ Feel free to ask me about any of those fic ideas for more information if you like! I will provide what I can!

First Round

Battle of the "Modern" ideas

Battle of the "Erebor Never Fell" ideas

Battle of the "Based on another story" ideas

Battle of the "Maeve's Choice" ideas

Semifinals

Battle of the "Cottagecore vs Dragons" Themes

Battle of the "Soulmate vs Time Travel" Tropes

Finals

Battle of the "Cottagecore vs Time Travel" Ideas

‼️Fic Summaries/Information below!‼️ All information below is subject to change as the fics develop

Modern AUs

Courtesy Call - Rated Explicit

While trying to make a most courteous call to pull his RSVP from his cousin's birthday party versus not showing at all, a misdial directs him to a particularly spicy line that's all about receiving a good time with oneself. The man on the other end is both baffled and challenged by a sudden new caller to his private line, but takes the challenge with everything his voice can provide. - Outdated Ficlet

Sweeter Than Honey - Rated Teen+

Bilbo Baggins runs a successful honey farm on the west side of the Brandywine River. His peaceful days of honey handicraft grow tense as a new logging company, owned by one Thror Oakes, draws closer to his land. It’s how he meets Thorin, a lumberjack living under the thumb of his grandfather, the owner. They should have been adversaries - the two are on opposite sides of nature, but as it is so often said: opposites attract. - Outdated Ficlet - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Based On Another Story

No Place Like Home - Rated Teen+

Smaug the Terrible was destined to be slain by a hero in king's armor. To prevent such a fate to pass, Smaug, an enchanter of great power, invaded the kingdoms of Erebor, Dale, and the Greenwood, stripping its citizens of their memories, and taking the throne. Banishing the three kings in an attempt to secure his safety, Smaug took the best part of each king, making them more vulnerable than ever. No one was smart enough, nor brave enough, or had enough heart to stand in his way. Until a most unlikely creature tumbles in. - Influenced by Alice in Wonderland & The Wizard of Oz - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Forged in Dragonfire - Rated Teen+

Durin the Deathless is a legend to every dwarf that knows the tale. A king, a dragonslayer, and one who possessed great power to do so. The blood of the dragonslayer was to pass from firstborn to firstborn, but as the war calmed, such rumors fell to myth, and those myths became lost with time, even as Smaug sought retaliation some generations later. A retaliation that was deadly, just as it was successful. Erebor had finally fallen. After many years of hardship, a wizard shows himself in Ered Luin, seeking the only dwarf who might be able to rekindle a little dragonfire in his blood to take down one of the world's deadliest creatures. One who is hellbent on claiming every kingdom in Middle Earth beneath his claws. - Influenced by Skyrim - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Erebor Never Fell

Heartstones - Rated Teen+

It’s believed that dwarves are blessed in one of two ways: by their heartstone, or their heartcraft, both a calling of the soul. When Thorin is convinced he has neither, a quest for his happiness takes him far beyond the Misty Mountains to the West. It’s in the West that Frerin is convinced they’ll find Thorin’s calling. Be that a happiness of the heart or the craft. - Outdated Ficlet - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Thief of Hearts - Rated Mature

Bilbo retired from his life of gentle burglary years ago to care for his ailing mother. With Belladonna's illness getting worse, he seeks out the aid of an enchanter, who is said to give people anything they want in exchange for a little task. Bilbo's task is to burgle one little stone from one lonely mountain under the nose of its king. Lucky for him, Erebor is preparing to host a grand party in hopes of finding a spouse for the oldest prince. It's the perfect distraction, and no one will see him coming.

Maeve's Choice

Twice In A Lifetime - Rated Mature

Just days before the siege on the Dimrill Gate, Thorin voices his guilt about his inability to keep his people safe when Smaug took the mountain. In the middle of an angry prayer to Mahal himself, the ringing of an anvil is the last thing Thorin remembers before waking up within the rolling green hills of the Shire. It’s there he’s greeted by a set of hazels he’d never forget. Not in this lifetime. - Outdated Ficlet

Wretched & Divine - Rated Explicit

After the battle, Bilbo continued to keep the Arkenstone close to his chest to protect those around him. He suspects that there’s more to this ‘Dragon Sickness’ than just the gold, and must figure out how he can save Thorin from his madness. All of this while trying to deal with the dwarf’s fascination with him with an intensity that rivals the obsession of finding the Arkenstone. Or: What if Bilbo had never given away the Arkenstone to Bard and Thranduil, and Thorin never kicked the gold sickness. - Outdated Ficlet

#bagginshield #thilbo #bagginshield fic #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #maeve writes #maeve wips

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novaursa · 4 months ago

Note

Hi how are you doing? ☺️

Can you write a fem!targaryen x gwayne ( I love your fic on him 👉🏼👈🏼)

She’s the favorite children of Alicent, she was raised to believed in the seven and she’s very closed to aegon, she’s the only one who understand him.

When Her father wanted to marry her to Jace, Alicent see that as an insult coz he’s a bastard and decided to send her to Oldtown? And she started to become really close to her uncle Gwayne and when they come back to king’s landing people can see that they are too closed to be only niece and uncle.

But she denied everything (except Aegon because he’s okay with that nothing can shook him) and then she goes to pray in the sanctuary? Alicent and Otto are here to talk to her but like in a corner and they see Gwayne walking to her. Gwayne see them and decided to take her in front of them and the seven to make sure that they understand that she is his 👀

Of Gods and Blood

- Summary: Your mother, Alicent, sent you to Oldtown, to protect you from Rhaenyra's whims. Only for you to find comfort in your uncle’s arms.

- Paring - niece!reader/Gwanye Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. The requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

- A/N: I had to change a little your plot near the end, to make the events more believe, both narrative and character wise.

You stand in the gardens of the Hightower, the sea breeze from the Whispering Sound tugging at the edges of your cloak. The sky is a soft hue of orange and pink, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ancient stones of Oldtown. The citadel bells ring in the distance, a sound that has become familiar in the months you’ve been here, far from the intrigues and dangers of King’s Landing. You draw in a breath, the salt air filling your lungs, yet your thoughts are not with the peace of the evening but with your brother, Aegon.

It is impossible not to miss him. From the time you were children, you were the only one who could reach him, the only one who could calm his tempestuous spirit. You understood him, even when others dismissed him as a drunkard or worse. You knew there was more to Aegon than his vices—there was a vulnerability, a deep-seated fear that he hid behind a facade of indifference and revelry. You were his confidante, the only one he trusted, the only one who could see the pain he masked with wine and women.

You wonder how he fares now, with you so far away. Does he still find solace in the bottom of a cup, or has he found some other way to numb the loneliness that gnaws at him? You worry, your heart aching with the absence of his presence, the way only a sibling can. You can picture him so clearly in your mind—his silver hair falling into his eyes, the way he would smirk when he was up to mischief, the rare moments when he would look at you with something close to gratitude. He never said it aloud, but you knew he appreciated you, perhaps even loved you in his own way.

But now you are here, in Oldtown, at the behest of your mother. You know why she sent you away, why she took her favorite child from the court. The memory of the conversation still haunts you, the way her face had paled when your father, King Viserys, had suggested you might be betrothed to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon. A match with the heir to Dragonstone would have been advantageous in the eyes of many, but not to your mother.

"Rhaenyra’s bastard," she had hissed when the two of you were alone. The horror in her voice was felt, as though the very idea of it sickened her. "I will not have you thrown to the wolves, not to her spawn. You are a trueborn daughter of House Targaryen, not some piece to be traded for peace."

You had not argued with her. How could you? She had always protected you, always made sure you were safe from the machinations of the court. And so, you had been sent to Oldtown, to the heart of House Hightower, where Rhaenyra’s reach could not extend, where you would be under the watchful eye of your uncle, Gwayne Hightower.

As if summoned by your thoughts, you hear the familiar sound of his footsteps approaching. You do not turn, not yet. Instead, you continue to gaze out over the water, allowing the moment to stretch out between you. When he reaches your side, he does not speak at first. The silence is comfortable, a sign of the ease that has developed between you.

“Do you miss it?” Gwayne finally asks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“King’s Landing?” you reply, your tone contemplative. “At times. But it is more the people I miss than the place itself.”

“Aegon?” he guesses, and you nod.

“He’s reckless, foolish even,” you say, “but he’s my brother. I can’t help but worry for him.”

Gwayne’s hand brushes yours, a brief touch that sends a ripple of warmth through you. It’s not the first time his touch has lingered, but tonight it feels different—charged, somehow, with an emotion you dare not name.

“He’s strong in his own way,” Gwayne says, his voice reassuring. “He’ll endure, as we all must.”

You turn to look at him then, really look at him. His face is handsome, with the sharp features of the Hightower lineage, but there’s something more in his gaze tonight, something that makes your heart skip a beat. You see concern there, yes, but also something deeper, something that mirrors the turmoil in your own soul.

“And what of you, Uncle?” you ask softly. “Do you miss the court?”

His lips quirk into a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “There are some things I miss, but others… I think I prefer the peace of Oldtown.”

You realize then that he, too, is far from everything he knows, from the power and influence he once wielded in King’s Landing. Here, he is just another nobleman, albeit one with more authority than most. Perhaps that is why the two of you have grown so close in these months, both of you displaced, both of you adjusting to a life far removed from the one you were born into.

The breeze shifts, and you shiver slightly as the night begins to cool. Gwayne notices and, without a word, removes his cloak and drapes it over your shoulders. His hands linger on the fabric, his fingers brushing your skin. You feel a flush rise in your cheeks, your pulse quickening at the contact.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t step back, doesn’t create the distance that propriety would normally dictate. Instead, he remains close, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not just my niece,” he says, his voice rough, as though he’s struggling to find the right words. “You’re… you’re someone I care about. Deeply.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you are unsure how to respond. This is dangerous territory, you know, but the warmth in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you as though you are the only person in the world, makes it impossible to retreat.

“I care about you too, Gwayne,” you admit, your heart pounding in your chest. The truth of it hangs between you, heavy and undeniable.

His hand lifts, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin in a tender caress. “We can’t…,” he begins, but the words trail off, unfinished, as though he can’t bring himself to complete the thought.

You don’t know who moves first, whether it’s you or him, but suddenly the distance between you is gone, and his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though both of you are afraid of what this might mean, but then it deepens, becomes something more as you both give in to the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

When you finally pull back, you are breathless, your thoughts a whirlwind of emotion. You search his eyes, looking for any sign of regret, but all you see is the same longing that you feel.

“This…,” you start, but he silences you with another kiss, as though to say that words aren’t necessary, that whatever this is between you, it’s something that needs no explanation.In that moment, with the night closing in around you and the weight of your family’s legacy far behind, you allow yourself to feel something other than duty, something other than the constant pressure to be what everyone expects you to be.

You allow yourself to feel desire, and in Gwayne’s arms, you find a sense of belonging that you hadn’t realized you were missing until now.

The wind tugs at your hair as you ride through the streets of King’s Landing, the noise of the bustling city swirling around you. It has been so long since you’ve seen the Red Keep’s towering spires that the sight of them, rising in the distance, feels almost surreal. The journey from Oldtown has been long, but you’ve barely felt the weariness, not with Gwayne at your side.

You sit in front of him on his horse, his strong arms wrapped around you as he holds the reins. The warmth of his body pressed against yours is a comfort amidst the cold and chaos of the capital, a quiet reminder that even in the midst of war and uncertainty, you are not alone. You lean back slightly, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

Gwayne notices, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “What’s that smile for, sweet niece?”

“Just thinking,” you reply, turning your head slightly so you can see him, “that I never imagined I’d return to King’s Landing like this.”

His expression softens as he looks down at you, one hand leaving the reins to brush a strand of silver hair from your face. “It’s a different city now, I think. The shadows feel longer, the tension thicker.”

You nod, your gaze shifting back to the streets. The people watch you as you pass, their eyes curious, some wary. You’re not sure if they recognize you or if they’re merely fascinated by the arrival of the Hightower forces, but there’s a murmur that follows you, whispers passing from one mouth to another like the wind.

The Hightower banners flap in the breeze, their green and white coloring stark against the duller hues of the capital. Soldiers march behind you, the sound of their armor clinking in rhythm with the horse’s hooves. There’s a grimness to it all, an unspoken acknowledgment of the battles that lie ahead. But it’s the whispers, the way people’s eyes linger on you and Gwayne, that you notice most.

You can almost hear what they’re saying—speculation and gossip about the nature of your relationship with your uncle. In Oldtown, the walls of the Hightower had protected you from such talk, but here, in the crowded streets of King’s Landing, there is no hiding from the scrutiny of the court and the common folk alike.

“Princess,” you hear someone mutter as you pass. “And her uncle?”

Another voice, this one sharp with curiosity, follows. “Isn’t she King Aegon’s sister? What’s she doing on his horse?”

You glance up at Gwayne, who seems to have noticed the murmurs as well. His jaw is tight, his grip on the reins just a bit firmer than before. It’s not anger you see in him, but something more protective, as though he’s ready to defend you against any slight, no matter how small.

“Let them talk,” you say softly, reaching up to place your hand over his. “It doesn’t matter.”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it’s as though the world around you fades, leaving just the two of you. “It doesn’t,” he agrees, his voice low but firm. “But I hate that they’re looking at you like that, as if they have any right to judge.”

You squeeze his hand, a silent reassurance that you are not afraid of the whispers. In truth, a part of you is almost defiant, as if daring them to say more, to challenge what you’ve found with Gwayne. You’ve spent so much of your life doing what others expected, living up to the roles assigned to you. Now, for the first time, you’re following your own heart, no matter where it leads.

The Red Keep looms ahead, its stone walls imposing as ever. You can already feel the weight of the court’s eyes, the inevitable judgment that will come once you pass through those gates. The memory of your last days here comes back to you—your mother’s frantic insistence that you leave, the way she’d spoken of Rhaenyra’s children with such disgust. You wonder how she’ll react when she sees you with Gwayne, when she hears the whispers that have already begun to spread like wildfire through the city.

As you approach the entrance to the Keep, you feel Gwayne’s arm tighten around you, a silent promise of support. “We’ll face them as one,” he murmurs, and you know he means it.

The gates open before you, the sounds of the city fading as you enter the courtyard. The Hightower soldiers fan out, their disciplined ranks a stark contrast to the chaos of the streets outside. You dismount, Gwayne’s hand steadying you as you step onto the cobblestones. He’s at your side the moment your feet touch the ground, his presence a reassuring constant.

A group of courtiers is already gathering, their eyes wide with surprise and curiosity. You recognize a few of them—faces that once looked upon you with respect or envy. Now, their gazes are harder to read, filled with questions they dare not voice aloud.

You hear a soft gasp from the crowd as you take Gwayne’s arm, a gesture that would have seemed perfectly innocent were it not for the intimacy in the way your fingers linger on his sleeve. The whispers start again, a low hum that grows louder as more people filter into the courtyard.

“Isn’t that the Dowager Queen’s daughter?”

“They say she’s been in Oldtown for months. Why has she returned now?”

“Look at the way she’s holding on to him. There’s something more between them, I’d wager.”

You lift your chin, meeting their stares with a calm you don’t entirely feel. Beside you, Gwayne is the picture of composure, his expression revealing nothing of the emotions that must be roiling within him.

A familiar figure emerges from the entrance to the Keep—your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent. She looks regal as ever, her face composed, though you notice the slight furrow of her brow as she takes in the sight of you with Gwayne. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes—relief, perhaps, at seeing you again, but also concern, as though she already suspects what the whispers are saying.

“Mother,” you greet her as you step forward, releasing Gwayne’s arm with a reluctant sense of propriety.

“Daughter,” she replies, her voice cool but tinged with warmth. Her gaze flickers to Gwayne, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I did not expect to see you return with your uncle.”

“I wished to be with my family,” you say simply, your tone carefully measured.

Alicent’s eyes search yours, looking for something you’re not ready to reveal. “And you’ve chosen to return at a time of great unrest,” she observes, her voice soft enough that only you and Gwayne can hear. “But I’m glad you are here, truly.”

She doesn’t say more, but you know there will be questions later, in the privacy of her chambers, where she’ll expect answers about your time in Oldtown and what, exactly, has brought you back to King’s Landing now. But for now, she extends her hand to you, a gesture of welcome.

As you take it, you feel the eyes of the court upon you, feel the tension that thrums beneath the surface. Gwayne steps back, just slightly, as though to give you space, but you can still feel the warmth of his presence beside you. It’s a comfort, even as the whispers continue, the court already weaving their tales about the Princess and her uncle.

But you don’t let it bother you. Let them talk, you think, because no matter what they say, no matter the rumors that will no doubt spread, you know where you stand. You know what you’ve found with Gwayne, and you are not ashamed.

Together, you and your uncle follow the Dowager Queen into the Red Keep, the heavy doors closing behind you with a resounding thud. The halls are as grand as you remember, yet somehow smaller, as if the world beyond them has grown larger in your absence.

The whispers will follow you here, you know, but as you walk beside Gwayne, you feel a sense of resolve settle over you. You’ve returned to a city at war, to a family divided, but you are not the same girl who left. You’ve found strength in yourself, and in Gwayne, and you are ready to face whatever comes next.

The council chamber is dimly lit, the tall windows shielded by thick curtains that block out the midday sun. A fire burns low in the hearth, but the air is cold, heavy with the tension that seems to permeate every corner of the Red Keep these days. Alicent Hightower stands by the window, her hands clasped tightly together, her gaze distant as she stares out over the city. The rumors have reached her ears—whispers of impropriety, of a scandal that could bring ruin upon the family she has fought so hard to protect.

Behind her, Otto Hightower paces, his face a mask of calculated concern. The Hand of the King is rarely rattled, but the news has clearly unsettled him. His normally shrewd eyes are narrowed, his thoughts racing as he contemplates the implications of what he’s heard.

“I do not believe it,” Alicent says finally, her voice strained but firm. “She is my daughter, Father. She would not… she could not be so reckless.”

Otto stops his pacing, turning to face his daughter. “The court is filled with idle tongues, Alicent. But where there is smoke, there is often fire. We cannot afford to ignore this.”

Before Alicent can respond, the door to the chamber swings open, and Aegon saunters in, his tunic half-laced, a goblet of wine already in hand despite the early hour. He looks as though he’s just risen from bed, his silver hair tousled, his expression one of lazy amusement.

“Mother, Grandsire,” he greets them, his tone light, almost mocking. He takes a long sip from his goblet before sprawling into a chair by the fire, stretching out as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

Alicent’s lips thin as she looks at her eldest son, but it’s Otto who speaks first. “Aegon,” he says sharply, “this is no time for your usual games. Have you heard the rumors?”

Aegon raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “About my sweet sister and our dear uncle? Of course I have. Everyone’s talking about it. I’m surprised it took this long for you two to catch on.”

Alicent flinches at his words, her face paling. “Aegon, please,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “You must tell us the truth. Is there any merit to these rumors? Has your sister…?”

Aegon laughs, a low, careless sound that grates on both Alicent’s and Otto’s nerves. “Oh, it’s true, Mother. They’re quite the pair, those two. Didn’t you notice how close they were when they arrived? Or were you too busy trying to figure out how to win this blasted war?”

Otto steps forward, his voice cold as ice. “And how would you know this, Aegon? What proof do you have?”

Aegon looks up at his grandfather, his smirk widening. “Because I’ve been in contact with her, of course. My sweet sister’s been writing to me. She’s quite… explicit in her letters.”

The color drains from Alicent’s face, and she sways slightly, as if the very ground beneath her has shifted. “No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “No, she wouldn’t…”

Aegon shrugs, taking another sip of his wine, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s causing. “Believe what you will, Mother, but you’ve always known she was different. Maybe that’s why you sent her away in the first place, hmm? To keep her from the likes of Jacaerys, but also to keep her away from prying eyes. But now she’s back, and well… it seems she’s found comfort in Uncle Gwayne.”

Alicent stares at her son, her heart pounding in her chest. The thought of her daughter—the one she has always favored, the one she has tried to protect above all others—being involved in something so scandalous is too much to bear.

“Aegon,” Otto says, his tone warning, “this is no laughing matter. This could destroy our house’s reputation, especially now when we can afford no more divisions. You must be mistaken.”

Aegon leans back in his chair, looking at the two of them with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “You two really need to relax. So what if they’re lovers? We’ve got bigger problems to deal with than who’s warming whose bed. Besides, isn’t that what you wanted? For her to stay loyal to the family? At least she’s with one of our own and not off consorting with the enemy.”

Alicent presses a hand to her temple, trying to steady herself. She cannot allow herself to believe this—she must speak with her daughter, must hear the truth from her own lips. But the thought of that conversation, of what it might reveal, fills her with dread.

Otto, on the other hand, is already thinking ahead, his mind racing through the potential consequences. “This cannot be allowed to continue,” he says, more to himself than to anyone else. “We must act quickly, quietly, before the situation escalates. We need to speak with her.”

Aegon lets out a derisive snort, raising his goblet in a mocking toast. “Good luck with that. She’s always been headstrong, you know. But by all means, go ahead. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to have a little chat about her personal life with you two.”

Alicent and Otto exchange a look, both of them realizing the gravity of the situation. They must tread carefully, for the sake of their family and their house, but they cannot ignore what is happening.

Aegon watches them, a sly smile playing on his lips as he lounges in his chair, utterly undisturbed by the storm he’s just unleashed. “Good luck,” he says again, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re going to need it.”

As he takes another leisurely sip of his wine, Alicent turns away, her mind already on the difficult conversation that lies ahead, while Otto considers the best approach to take with his granddaughter. They know that whatever happens next, it will not be easy.

And Aegon? He simply reclines in his chair, pleased to have stirred the pot, content to watch the drama unfold around him, utterly unconcerned by the turmoil he’s just caused.

The Sept is quiet, the flickering candles casting a soft glow over the statues of the Seven. You kneel before the Mother, your hands clasped tightly together as you pray for guidance, for strength. The silence of the sacred space surrounds you, offering a moment of peace amid the turmoil that has settled over your life since returning to King’s Landing. The scent of incense lingers in the air, and you inhale deeply, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

You pray for your family, for the war that looms on the horizon, for the safety of those you love. But most of all, you pray for clarity—clarity about your feelings for Gwayne, about the path you should take now that everything has become so complicated. The Sept has always been a place of solace for you, a place where you could find peace in the embrace of the gods, but today, your mind refuses to settle.

The sound of footsteps echoes in the empty space, and you open your eyes, turning slightly to see Gwayne approaching. His expression is unreadable, his eyes dark and intent as he strides toward you. There is something about his presence that makes your heart race, something that makes you forget the sanctity of the place where you kneel.

“Gwayne,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “What are you doing here?”He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek as he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. “I came to make a statement,” he says, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

“A statement?” you repeat, confusion swirling in your mind. “To the gods?”

His lips curve into a slow, deliberate smile. “To the gods,” he murmurs, “and to anyone else who might doubt where you belong.”

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. You gasp against his mouth, but the sound is swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. His hands move to your shoulders, pulling you up from your kneeling position so that you are standing before him. The softness of your prayers is forgotten, replaced by the heat that surges between you.

“Gwayne,” you manage to murmur between kisses, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and confusion. “What are you doing?”

His response is a low growl as his lips move down your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. “I’m making a statement,” he says again, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m showing the gods, and anyone else who might doubt it, that you are mine.”

The words send a thrill through you, a heady mixture of fear and desire. There is no hesitation in his actions, no sign of doubt. He pulls you closer, his hands moving to the ties of your dress, fingers deftly undoing them as he kisses you deeply, passionately.

You feel the cool air against your skin as your dress falls away, leaving you bare before him. Gwayne’s eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of you, and then his mouth is on yours again, hungry and demanding. You respond with equal fervor, your hands working at the fastenings of his tunic, needing to feel his skin against yours, to lose yourself in him.

He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he presses you against one of the stone pillars of the Sept. The sensation of his body against yours, the way he holds you as though you are the most precious thing in the world, drives all rational thought from your mind. There is only him, only the fire that burns between you.

When he enters you, it is swift, his movements driven by a need so powerful it leaves you breathless. You moan softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you cling to him, the sensation of him filling you overwhelming and utterly intoxicating. Gwayne sets a fast, demanding rhythm, his thrusts deep and sure, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, mingling with your own breathless gasps as you lose yourself in the feeling of him inside you. There is something almost sacred in the way he moves, something that speaks of more than just physical desire. It is a claiming, a vow, as if with every thrust he is binding you to him in a way that goes beyond mere flesh.

Your climax builds quickly, the intensity of your passion driving you both to the edge. You can feel him trembling against you, the tension in his body a mirror of your own. And then, with a final, shuddering thrust, you both find release, your cries mingling with his in the silence of the Sept.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing, the two of you still joined, still lost in the aftermath of your passion. But then you hear it—the sharp intake of breath, the horrified gasp that shatters the silence.

You turn your head, your heart plummeting as you see them standing at the entrance to the Sept: your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, and your grandsire, Otto Hightower. Their faces are pale with shock, their eyes wide as they take in the sight of you and Gwayne, still joined, still locked in the aftermath of your lovemaking.

Gwayne doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch or try to separate from you. Instead, he turns his head to meet their gaze, his expression calm, almost defiant. He holds you even closer, his grip on your waist tightening as if to say that he will not be ashamed, that he will not hide what has just happened.

Alicent’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears as she takes a step back, unable to process what she’s seeing. Otto’s face is a mask of cold fury, his eyes narrowing as he looks between you and Gwayne, understanding dawning in his gaze.

You realize, in that moment, that this was Gwayne’s intention all along. He didn’t come to the Sept for the gods. He came here to make a statement, to show your family, the court, and even the gods themselves that you belong to him, and that he will not allow anyone to take you from him.

The weight of that realization settles over you, but it is not fear that you feel. Instead, it is a strange sense of certainty, a feeling that despite the scandal, despite the consequences that are sure to follow, you are exactly where you are meant to be.

Gwayne’s eyes meet yours, and there is a question there, a silent inquiry if you regret this, if you wish to be released. But you shake your head, your own resolve hardening. You lift your chin, your gaze steady as you look at your mother, at your grandsire.

Alicent takes another step back, her voice trembling as she whispers, “What have you done?”

But you do not answer. Gwayne is still inside you, still holding you close, and you know that whatever happens next, whatever judgment they pass, it will not change what you feel, what you have chosen.

Otto’s voice is cold as ice when he finally speaks. “This will have consequences,” he says, his tone filled with a warning that sends a chill down your spine. “You have made a grave mistake.”

Gwayne’s grip on you tightens just slightly, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “The only mistake,” he says quietly, “would have been letting her go.”

Alicent turns away, unable to bear the sight any longer, her hand still pressed to her mouth to stifle her sobs. Otto stares at you both for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally turns to leave, his cloak swirling around him as he exits the Sept, leaving you and Gwayne alone once more.

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with the weight of what has just transpired. But as Gwayne gently lowers you back to the ground, as he pulls you close, his breath warm against your ear, you feel a strange sense of peace.

“I am yours,” you whisper, and he nods, his lips brushing against your temple.

“And I am yours,” he replies, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

And with that, you know that whatever comes next, whatever trials you may face, you will face them together. For Gwayne has made his statement—to the gods, to your family, and to you. You are his, and he is yours, and no force in this world or the next will tear you apart.

#house of the dragon #hotd x female reader #hotd #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #gwayne x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne x y/n #gwayne hightower

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the-fiction-witch · 5 months ago

Text

I Love This Maiden

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - (OC) Ellisa Rating - 18 + Mommy kink / breast play / breast sucking / bread feeding / milk drinking / comfort kink Word Count - 1234

Requested -

AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON! AEGON!AEGON! AEGON! AEGON!AEGON! AEGON! AEGON!

I AM BEGGING FOR THE OTHER PART OF THE BREASTFEEDING AEGON PLEEEEAAAASSSEEEE

I submitted a request/idea like this to another writer but I will not keep this like head canon idea type thing to myself........ Aegon is 100% the type to love his girl breastfeeding him... him being all stressed and angry or sad from the council not listening to him and Alicent being cruel and everything and he just wants to lay his head in her lap and latch his mouth onto her nipple and drink in her sweet milk... it makes him feel at peace... makes him feel wanted and loved and special

Aegon had already been drinking before the night had even come to pass, the wine had been warming his stomach since breakfast with his wife. But now that night had fallen over Kings Landing, he had gathered his regular companions and gone down the usual route. Stopping by, a few inns and taverns all graciously serving the king before, of course, ending the night in one of the brothels down the street of silk. Aegon almost always went to this brothel, he liked the owner's prices and he liked the many sorts of girls who worked there.

One more than others,

Ellisa sat on her bed lounging in the candlelight, dressed in her sheet blue gown with two high slits for her legs, the top of the dress wrapped around the choker at her neck, her long hair cascading down her back.

Laughter erupted from outside in the hallway and the curtain was pulled open revealing Aegon and his companions arm in arm and falling over each other drunk,

“Ah!” Aegon smiled raising his glass, “Ellisa, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” he stumbled over falling to his knees on her bed,

“I’ve been here,” She shrugged, “as I always am,”

“Indeed,” he cooed, moving closer and rubbing the tip of his nose against hers,

“You’re grace, are you sure you do not wish for me to find you-” One of his companion boys came closer,

Aegon wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulder and tapped his hand against the boy's tender cheek, “Fuck off Marcello,” He chuckled,

“Yes your grace,” Marcello nodded leaving the room and taking the other of Aegon’s companions with him leaving Aegon and Ellisa alone,

“... Gods know how I have missed you,” He cooed, a tone of clarity even though his drunkenness,

“As have I you, your grace,” She smiled,

He grimaced, “No…” he shook his head, “Not here, not with you.”

“Of course, Forgive me.”

“You always are.” He smiled kissing her cheek,

She nodded, “Come here then my sweet boy,” She cooed opening her arms,

He happily moved closer and curled up in her arms, his legs over her lap, his head resting against her shoulder, a soft and gentle smile across his lips as she wrapped her arms around him in a gentle and caring embrace,

“So tell me, what has my sweet boy been up to these last few days?” she cooed,

“Well, I attended my royal coronation,” He sighed,

“I saw, you were very handsome,” she smiled stroking his back,

“I was?” he looked up with hope in his eyes,

“Very handsome,” she nodded, “I was very proud of you,”

His tears began to well up in his eyes, “Proud of me…” he muttered,

“I’m always proud of you sweet boy,” she smiled,

“...Thank you, Mommy,” He whispered,

“You’re welcome,” She cooed, “Now, what else have you been up to?”

“Humm… been attending a whole bunch of small council meetings,”

“Ohh, council meetings,”

“It’s all just preparations and precautions with my half-sister and all.” he sighed running his fingers gently through her hair,

“Yes, of course, very important matters to attend to,” she nodded, “Still all very big business for such a sweet boy,” she smiled kissing his forehead,

“You take such good care of me,” He cooed, “My sweet mommy,”

“I know what will cheer you up,” she smiled, “How about… we get you nice and relaxed? Would you like that my sweet boy?” She softly stroked his cheek,

He nodded,

“Use your words, you're a big boy now Aegon.”

“Yes please Mommy,” He nodded,

“Perfect,” She cooed, giving his cheek a little pinch before she moved her hands away and untied the dress from around her choker, the dress slowly fell to her waist revealing her skin in the warmth of the candlelight, her large bare breasts exposed to the air,

“Which side may I mommy?”

“The left today, sweet boy,”

He nodded and softly prepared gentle kisses down her neck, leaving tender bites against her throat, slowly he moved down her chest before reaching the nipple of her left breast, he softly kissed it a few times, pressing kisses around the nipple. He gently and slowly flicked his tounge against her nipple to harden it before finally he locked his lips around the nipple and began his gentle and slow sucks,

“Not too quickly now, we don’t want you to get hiccups.” She reminds,

But he didn’t respond, his eyes fluttering shut as he gently sucked until he let out a soft groan as he tasted her milk, he quickly swallowed and began to suck harder.

“Such a sweet boy, being so soft and gentle for Mommy,” she cooed stroking his cheek,

He nodded as he continued to suckle, his hands around her waist playing with her hair looping and knotting it around his fingers as he drank,

Ellisa only smiled wrapping her arms around him and gently rocking them both back and forth like you would a newborn as they feed, and softly she began to sing,

“I loved a maid as sweet as spring, with flowers in her hair. I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair. I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair. I loved a maid as white as winter, with moonglow in her hair.”

Aegon softly pulled away from her nipple and rested his head against her chest smiling up at her, “But I love this maiden most of all, for she is as sweet as springtime flowers. As far as the summer sun. She is better than a sunset sea and of Moonglow Moore. I love this maiden in my arms, and I shall until I fall.” he softly sang, “And I do… I do truly love you Ellisa,”

“As I you, Aegon,” she cooed giving his lips a soft and tender kiss, “You should get back to the keep sweet boy, they will wonder where you are.”

He sighed but nodded, slowly sitting up and fixing his clothes a little. “I wish I could keep you in my arms for all time, you are far kinder to me than you have any need to be. Even my own mother is not as kind to me as you,”

“Well, I’m always here if you need me, no matter what.”

“I need you.” He said taking her hand, “I need you always.”

“You must go your grace,” she reminds,

“I must…” he sighed, “I will be back to visit again soon,”

“I look forward to it,” she smiled squeezing his hand before he got to his feet,

But he turned back before their hands broke apart, “If anything is coming, anything is to happen. I will send word as soon as I know, I will send men and they will protect you. Take you far from danger. I swear this to you Ellisa.” He said falling to his knees at her bedside,

“Sweet boy,” She cooed stroking his cheek, “My place is here, with you. And I will stay here by your side until the long night claims us all,”

“You mean it?”

“I do,” she nodded,

“You have… alot of faith in me.”

“Of course I do sweet boy,” she smiled kissing his forehead, “I have nothing but faith in you.”

He smiled and softly kissed her hand before kissing her lips once more, “I’ll see you soon,”

“I’ll see you soon,” she nodded,

Before Aegon sighed, got to his feet and left to head back to the Keep.

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cariantha · 2 months ago

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Mad about Matching

Book: Open Heart (post-series) Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: Teen Category: Fluff, Halloween Word count: 600+ Prompt: From @jerzwriter, "I love you, I swear I do, but we're not wearing matching costumes."

“Hello…” Ethan groaned into the phone.

“Daddy-”

"I love you, I swear I do, but we're not wearing matching costumes, Bellezza."

“Pleeeease…”

“Can we compromise? I’ll wear a suit and glasses and be Clark Kent.”

“Dad, no one will know you’re even in a costume. You’ll just look the same as you always do.”

Ethan smiled. He had to give her credit. His daughter, Luca, was a smart cookie. “I know how much you love Superman, but don’t you want to be something different this year? I thought you wanted to be Alice?”

“I did, but…” she trailed off shyly.

“But what, Luca?” Ethan coaxed gently.

“I just wanted you to dress up with me.”

Ethan could hear the disappointment in his baby girl’s voice. She was his shadow, and knowing she wanted to do everything with him was the best feeling in the world. If he wanted to avoid dressing up for Halloween, he would need Sawyer’s help to convince Luca to change her mind before they got home. Because it would only take a bat of Luca’s eyelashes and a kiss on the cheek to make him cave. “Let me talk to your mom, okay?"

“Okay. Here she is.”

“Hey,” Sawyer greeted.

“You’re playing dirty, and you’ll pay for that later, Rookie.”

Sawyer just laughed. “Promise?”

“Still a colossal pain in the ass,” Ethan grumbled. “Can you please talk her into being Alice instead?

“Oh, oh, I have an idea! One sec…” In the background, he could hear Sawyer telling the kids to follow her. Then, a minute later, “Yes! Okay, they have a top hat. You can be the Mad Hatter. You can wear your tux pants and dress shoes and borrow Tobias’ velvet suit jacket.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Ethan conceded. “But no wig and make-up! I’m not painting my face to look like the guy in the movie.”

There was muffled talk on the other end of the line before his wife responded. “Your daughter agrees to your terms.”

“Good. Thank you, Rookie.”

“Does this mean I won’t be punished later?”

“I suppose you’re off the hook.”

“Bummer,” she said playfully.

“I guess I could show you my appreciation instead.”

A week later...

Halloween night...

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @peonierose @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction

@jerzwriter @queencarb @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @jamespotterthefirst

@liaromancewriter @tveitertotwrites @tessa-liam @youlookappropriate @kyra75

@socalwriterbee @txemrn @midnightmelodiz @snoopdogcone

@rafasgirl23415

#halloween #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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waiting4inspiration · 2 years ago

Text

To Want (Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader)

Summary: Having chased away yet another suitor, you admit to your brother that you only want one person; him. Aemond wants you too and will do anything to have you

Warnings: INCEST (this is the GOT universe), mentions of blood, mentions of rape, mentions of arranged marriages and courting, sneaking around, fluff, angst, strong language, you are responsible for your own media consumption

Word Count: +4.5K (off to a good start for my first Aemond fic)

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist II House of the Dragon Masterlist

“You cut his fingers off?”

Hearing your brother’s voice breaks your attention from the book laying in your lap and makes you look around the huge trunk of the Weirwood tree you sit under. Aemond walks towards you with an almost proud smile on his face, his hands folded behind him, and a coy look in his eye. “I did not cut his fingers off. Lord Hawthorne’s limbs were still attached to his body when he left my presence,” you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear as he sits down beside you. “I had my reasons for doing what I did.”

“I don’t doubt that you do,” he says, looking down at the blood staining the sleeve of your dress. “Though, I don’t think mother will appreciate how you’ve driven away yet another suitor,” he adds, pointing to your sleeve with a finger.

You quickly glance down at your sleeve, letting go a deep sigh as your attention returns back to your book. “I’ll deal with that later.”

When you both hear footsteps in the gallery, you know that it is your mother, the Queen. She has her hands folded neatly in front of her, dressed in her signature dark green, and her eyes land on you as she walks into the garden. “You may have to deal with that sooner than you think,” Aemond whispers as he pushes himself off the ground.

You stare at him with wide eyes as he leaves, almost as if you beg him to not leave you alone with your mother because you know that this conversation may end up in a fight with her. Aemond simply gives you an amused smile as he glances back over his shoulder at you, making you huff out a frustrated breath as you slam the book shut.

When Alicent reaches you, you stand up from your seat between the roots of the tree and fold your arms over your chest as you look at her, waiting for the scolding to come. “I have managed to keep this situation from escalating. Lord Hawthrone will accept an apology-”

“Which I will not give him,” you snap, interrupting your mother as she speaks which makes her give you a stern look.

“This is the seventh suitor that has asked for your hand that you have turned down or chased away. At this rate, word will spread and you will not find a husband,” she fights back, gripping her hands tightly as she takes another step toward you.

As you shift on your feet, you shake your head and press your lips into a thin line. “Fine. This wasn’t my idea anyway,” you stubbornly say, turning away from her to flop back down on the ground where you had left your book.

Alicent sighs as you bury your nose in the pages again and she urges herself to move and sit beside you. “Perhaps we should take a break from finding you a suitor. Let things calm down a little bit and defuse any rumors that might arise,” she gently says, placing a hand over yours and making you look up at her again. “For now, please don’t go looking for trouble?”

You bite your lower lip, slowly nod your head at her and then turn back to the book in your hands. Your mother gives you a warm smile before she stands up and walks away from you, out of the garden.

As she leaves, you look up at her again, watching as her hair bounces as she walks. You can’t believe that she made this out to be your fault. It seems that everything you do is your fault, according to her. You’re sure that her trying to find you a husband is just a way for her to get you out of her hair.

But you don’t plan on leaving your home as someone’s wife anytime soon. Not if you can help it.

You didn’t have dinner with your family that night because you knew that Aegon was going to make your encounter with Lord Hawthrone the topic of conversation. He was going to tease you and you were not feeling up for that turning into a fight.

Instead, you stay in your room, sitting in front of the hearth with a burning fire inside. You stare at the flames, watching them dance in red and orange streaks that flitter up and vanish into nothingness. Breathing out a heavy sigh, you drop your eyes to your hands laying in your lap. When you close your eyes, you can still see the flickering flames now burned into your sights.

Hearing your chamber’s door open, your head immediately snaps over your shoulder to see who it is that has disturbed your peace. Upon seeing your brother Aemond, walking through the door and giving you a small smile, you allow yourself to relax and look back into the fire.

He doesn’t say anything as he makes his way closer to you. All he does is sit down beside you, a leg spread out in front of him as the other comes up bent where he can rest his arm while the other keeps himself propped up behind him. “So, am I allowed to know now what happened?”

You take a deep breath but don’t look at him. You just keep staring into the fireplace, bringing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them.

“I know you don’t attack without reason. I taught you that myself, sister,” he states, smirking at you when he sees a small smile creeping on your face before it quickly disappears.

Aemond did teach you some self-defense when you were young. After he had spent so much time training in the yard with various weapons and realized that if anyone decided to attack you, his dear sister, and you were alone, how could you protect yourself. He tried to get mother to agree that you train the same as he and Aegon but she would not have it. You would grow the same way and learn the same things as Helaena did. But Aemond didn’t agree with that and took it into his own hands because he saw that you are nothing like your older sister.

He saw a fighter in your eyes and he would feed into it. So he privately taught you how to yield a weapon.

“It doesn’t matter what I say. I am just a woman and everyone will believe his word over mine,” you mumble, refusing to look up at your brother as you talk.

Aemond shifts closer to you, lifting a hand to move the hair covering your face from him behind your ear. “And if I know, I will defend you if anyone says differently,” he whispers, turning your head towards him as he gently cups your chin between his thumb and index finger.

You relax under his touch, your shoulders falling as you sigh out a deep breath, and lean against his hand. “His hand ventured a bit too low as did his lips. I knew what he wanted from me and I didn’t want the same. He wouldn’t take no for an answer so he got rough. And I had no choice. I reached for my knife to threaten him away, but it caught his hand and cut him,” you quickly explain, wanting to get the words out of your mouth as if they have a bitter taste on your tongue.

Aemond knows how fierce you can be, how strong you are in front of everyone. And yet, here you sit, so delicate in front of him.

“I know what people say about me and I know this will only add to everything. ‘Seven suitors that she’s chased away. She must have inherited the Targaryen Madness.’ They think I don’t hear them whispering in the hallways but I do,” you say, turning your head and pulling it out of Aemond’s touch. “They all think I’m mad.”

“Let them think what they want. They only think those things from what they see, not from what they know about us,” he says, shifting closer to you. “Look at me.” Your head turns again, looking straight into his face, your gaze meeting his. “They see me as mean and vicious and hot-tempered and cruel because of this,” he starts, gesturing to the patch over his missing eye and the scars peeking out beneath it. “I’m sure they think me mad too. Tell me, do you think they are right about me?”

You’re quick to shake your head. “No. No, you are so loyal to the family and bold and you have been nothing but caring to me,” you state and a smile grows on his face. “Though, sometimes you can be hot-tempered,” you laugh, smiling with him when he chuckles at your words as his hands fall over yours.

“So you see, they do not know us for who we truly are. Let them think those things. You and I both know that they are wrong,” he whispers, his thumb caressing the back of your hand as he continues to stare into your eyes.

You want to follow his advice as you always have. You want to just forget about the rumors and forget about those that spread them. But you cannot ignore the persistent twinge in the middle of your body, the fact that you cannot just forget and ignore everything.

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, shaking your head as you drop your head to look at his hands enveloping yours. “I can’t let them think of me as that when there is reasoning for the things that I do. And it feels as if no one will listen to me and what I have to say to explain myself and hear why I do not want to marry some stranger from the West,” you ramble, lifting your gaze back to Aemond’s face. “I already know who I want.”

You don’t need to say anything else for Aemond to understand. He understands because he feels the same way and knows that you know that. He wants you the same way you want him. You both know this from the times you two have spent together in secret, whispering, touching, and gazing at each other as lovers do. You’ve felt the pull towards him, just as he has felt it. Neither of you can say when you first felt it, but you just do.

And as you two stare into each other’s gaze, you can feel the same pull between you two.

“You know mother would allow it,” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if there were another person sitting in the corner of the room.

“We’ve always thought that because she had Helaena and Aegon married that they were enough to keep with the Targaryen tradition and that the rest of us were to marry to create alliances across Westeros. But we’ve never brought this up with her. We don’t know that she won’t allow it,” you mention, keeping your eyes on him as he drops his head with a sigh.

You reach up, holding his cheek in your palm, the tip of your thumb almost touching the scar on his cheek as you lift his gaze up to you again. “I know who I want, Aemond. I am not going to change my mind no matter how many suitors she sends my way. I want to marry you, Aemond.”

Not another word is said between the two of you. Aemond’s hand reaches up once more to cup your cheek, allowing that magnetizing pull to draw him closer to you. He touches his lips to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as your heart leaps into your throat, your hand on his face pulling him even closer so that your shadows cast by the fire melt into one figure.

It feels as though this was meant to happen. It was only a matter of time before you and Aemond could no longer fight the attraction you both felt toward each other. You’ve never wanted more than for this moment to happen. You’re sure you’ve dreamed of it, imagined it every moment you’re alone with Aemond, doubting whether he wanted the same thing as you.

This only proves that it is you that he wants.

“Will you stay?” you question softly when he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours.

Aemond’s thumb gently caresses your cheek, an action of such tenderness you’re sure that those that speak rumors of the two of you could never imagine him capable of such a thing. “I cannot. I have duties to see to before the day ends,” he whispers, leaning ever so closer to nuzzle his nose against yours when he feels your body slack in sadness. “And you must rest, little fighter.”

That makes you laugh, a sound so musical to Aemond’s ears.

As he begins to move away from you, he places one last kiss on your forehead before leaving you in the peaceful quietness of your room. He knows he has felt you wanting more for he feels the same want in his own body. Soon, he tells himself. Soon he will have you and you both will be allowed to give into that want.

His duties are not as important to him as the new mission he has thought of as he closes your chamber doors. Your words of how Aegon and Helaena are the family’s traditional sibling marriage rings in his mind. He knows that the Queen is ceasing the search for a husband for you for a while.

Perhaps he can try and persuade her. He can entice her with the prospect that she no longer needs to continue the search. Alliances can be forged in other ways.

Aemond knows that his mother is still awake from the light flickering under her door. He knocks, waits for a response before pushing open her door to enter.

“What are you doing here so late, Aemond?” she asks, standing from her desk and leaving the paperwork laid out in front of her. It is clear that she has not thought of turning in yet, business still on her mind. Aemond is not sure if that is a good thing or not.

“You still intend to marry off (Y/n)?”

Alicent sighs, folds her hands in front of her, and gives him a gentle smile as she moves toward him. “The right suitor for her will show up. Someone who can keep up with her personality. We just have to wait and see what comes from the incident that happened to her,” she begins, stopping just in front of her son to examine his expression.

“Give her to me,” he quickly states, causing her gentle and motherly look to drop from her face. “She knows who she wants. It is me she wishes to marry and I want her as well. Let us wed and end all of your strife to try and find someone who will tolerate her when I can do just that and you know it.”

The Queen stares hard at her son, her mouth in a thin line as she mulls over his words in her mind. “You know I cannot allow that. I am waiting for word from the Starks in the North. If their son agrees to marry her it could strengthen Aegon’s claim to the Throne-”

“Aegon,” Aemond sneers, cutting her off as he steps away from her. “Betrothing him to Helaena was to strengthen his claim and now you will marry off the rest of us to other lords and ladies around Westeros to do the same.”

You were right about that.

“Aegon is all you care about. You have never thought about the happiness of your other children and what it is they want,” Aemond accuses, glaring at his mother in disdain.

Alicent gives him a sad look, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry you feel that way, my son. But I have made up my mind. (Y/n) will marry into another House as will you. It is all arranged.”

Her words make his body go stiff. So she has already started planning on finding him a wife. “Arranged with who?” he questions.

But she simply smiles, turning him towards the door, and starting to lead him out. “Let us not talk about that now. It is late in the night,” she whispers as if not wanting to wake the castle. In truth, Aemond knows that she does not want to stir up his anger.

Doing so only allows it to boil inside him, fueling the fire he feels to have you as his and to not see you shipped away to a faraway land where he cannot follow because he is being forced to go the other direction. As the door closes, the lost fight with his mother makes it feel as if you’re slipping away from him. Losing the fight means losing you.

He doesn’t turn in for the night. His bed remains made and untouched and the candles continue to burn and melt all the way down. He watches as the flame of the candles reaches the end of the wick, burning out just as the sun begins to rise, lightening the sky and chasing away the darkness of the moonless sky.

Aemond’s mind has been whirring with plans since he set foot inside his chambers, thinking of a way to get what both you and he want; each other. He knows that he will not get the Throne as he previously wanted due to the Queen’s insistence and so he has stopped fighting against that. But you are not lost to him just yet and he will fight to have you as long and hard as he has to.

He knows his mother is somewhat religious and he knows that any act done before the Gods is sacred to her. It’s the setup in his plan that he will carry through.

By the light of the day and the first sign that the castle is awake, he moves to see out these plans of his.

You thought you would see Aemond the next day, that he would come to see you in the gardens or at least bump into him in the hallways. But even when you ask people if they have seen him and they say no, has you confused and concerned. It makes you overthink that perhaps he didn’t feel what you thought he felt last night.

Perhaps he thought things would feel different if he kissed you and if he gave in to his wants. Maybe he changed his mind and you are not what he wants.

Your mind races and you don’t even take in the words on the page of the book in front of you. All you’re doing is staring down at it while thinking of the million possibilities of where your beloved brother could be. It worries you deeply as to where he could have disappeared to.

He’s most likely run away, you think after hearing that Vhagar is gone too. He must have regretted kissing you and fled in the night on dragon back. It breaks your heart to think that and think that it is the most likely scenario.

These thoughts keep you occupied all day and by the night, you’re tired of thinking. All you can do is stare up at the ceiling as you lay in bed, allowing for the first time in the day your mind to be quiet. And yet, tears threaten to escape from your eyes.

You never thought that without Aemond you would feel so alone. You thought that being so close to him meant that he would tell you anything bothering him. You thought…

Sighing, you bring up your hands to your face and shake your head to yourself. You don’t know what to think anymore. You turn onto your side, trying to go to sleep and hope that tomorrow you wake and this will have all been a nightmare.

But you continue to stare out the window, feeling the cool wind blowing through your room on your skin, and the question still etched into your mind. “Where are you, Aemond?”

You feel the bed dip behind you and it’s as if the intruder knows what your next move is because they grab your wrists before you can throw a punch. However, seeing Aemond’s face hiding underneath a hood makes you breathe out a sigh of relief. “Where the fuck have you been?” you ask, throwing your arms around his neck.

He doesn’t answer you. Instead, he chuckles as he pulls you away to wrap a cloak around your shoulders. “Stay quiet and follow me,” he whispers, pulling the hood up over your head before leading you off your bed.

“What are you up to, Aemond?” you whisper back, your hand slipping into his as you follow him out of your room.

“All your questions will be answered soon. Just do as I say,” he whispers over his shoulder to you.

You do as you're told. The thought that he came back for you is more than enough to make you happy. You know he has something planned but you’re not sure what it could be. Knowing that it includes you makes you feel stupid for having thought that he no longer wants you.

He leads you out of the Red Keep, all the way to the Dragon Pit, consistently looking behind him to make sure you’re still following him despite having your hand so tightly held in his own. You’ve only been to the Pit a few times, not having the pleasure of having a dragon as your egg didn’t hatch. It was the thing that brought you and Aemond to each other. After seeing him bond with Vhagar, the Queen of Dragons, it reassured you that you don’t have to have an egg hatched to be a dragon rider.

Aemond tells you that you have enough fire in your soul and that you do not need a dragon.

There are no Keepers around Vhagar who seems to be waiting for her rider. Aemond lets go of your hand to move towards the dragon, places his hand on her neck and speaks to her in Valyrian before he looks over at you again, finding you staring in awe at the huge beast before you.

He holds out his hand to you, beckoning you closer and you step forward with hesitation. “Relax,” he whispers to you, taking your hand and pressing it against the scales of the old dragon.

You gasp when she moves, jumping back into Aemond’s chest when Vhagar moves her head to look at you. “She won’t harm you. Not when you’re with me,” he says in your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your hip.

Then he moves you to the ropes draped over her neck in order for her rider to climb to their saddle. You look back to Aemond to see if he really wants you to do what you think he wants you to do. He simply nods up, silently telling you to climb. And so you do.

You’ve never ridden a dragon before, never soared above the clouds and over the seas as you have seen your brothers and sister do before. You have longed to experience it and thinking that this could be your time to do that makes your heart skip a beat.

Aemond isn’t far behind you, settling into the space of the saddle behind you. As he wraps an arm around you, commanding Vhagar to fly, you feel your skin tingle with goosebumps when she begins to move.

Although she moves slowly, every movement feels a hundred times rougher than riding a horse. And when she rises off the ground, flapping her huge wings to ascend into the sky, your hands shoot for Aemond’s forearm wrapped around your waist.

When Vhagar reaches the clouds, Aemond feels you relaxing with a deep breath. He watches you glance around at the open sky and then up at the stars that peek through any opening in the clouds. He can’t properly see but he can only imagine the look of awe on your face.

He can see you closing your eyes, feeling the fresh air blowing against your face and through your hair. There is nothing that compares to riding a dragon and he knows this very well. But there is also nothing like seeing you experience this for the first time.

Vhagar drops towards the waters below, giving you another spectacular sight to witness. You want to reach out to touch it, but Aemond stops you from leaning over, preventing you from possibly falling. With both his hands firmly holding onto your hips, you look over your shoulder at him.

“What are you doing, Aemond? Why have you kidnapped me?” you ask in a laugh when you finally land on a small island you think is not far from King’s Landing.

He doesn’t say anything as he helps you down the ropes, his hands not leaving your hips until your feet land firming on the ground. And when he takes your hand, leading you away from Vhagar, a bright smile grows on his face.

Something in the distance catches your eyes and you force yourself to look away from the gleeful look on his face. Candles glow in the dark, all placed in a way that makes up an aisle that leads to a Septon standing beneath a tree.

Suddenly you know what is happening and you look back to Aemond. “Mother will not allow us to marry. But how can we ignore what the Gods have destined for us?” he asks, still leading you toward the set up for this secret wedding.

You cannot break your gaze from him the closer you walk toward the Septon. You admire Aemond’s plans and how he had done them so quickly and quietly. You don’t even want to know how he got this Septon to agree to do this. You’re just happy that he did.

When you both come to stand in front of the Septon, Aemond gives him a nod to start, and you cannot keep the smile on your face from growing bigger. “We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever,” the Septon starts, your hand holding tightly onto Aemond's as he lifts it for the holy man to tie your hands together in a blood red ribbon.

“Let it be known that Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.”

You know that your mother cannot do anything now for this ceremony is done before the Gods. When the sun rises, you will be Aemond’s wife and he will be your husband.

Just as you both wanted.

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