#i hope hes a shadow dragon i must see him again

[voiceemporium]

Fenris in Dragon Age 2 voiced by Gideon Emery

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Leap of Fate

Summary - A young woman's daring climb over a wall to escape an arranged union leads to an unexpected encounter with her betrothed himself. What begins as a night of escape becomes the start of an enchanting story of love and destiny.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2102

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

I took a deep breath, my gaze locked on the stone wall ahead. The sky, darkening with the approach of night, cast eerie, elongated shadows that flickered like ghosts on the rough surface. 

My palms grew sweaty, and a shiver of anxiety ran down my spine. The height of the wall seemed to mock my courage.

"Alright, if I can just make that jump and haul myself up, I should be able to manage the rest from there," I murmured to myself, my voice tinged with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

With a resolute nod, I steeled myself, my teeth clenched in a grimace of concentration. My fingers dug into the wall's jagged surface, desperately searching for any crevice that would hold. 

The coarse texture of the stone scraped against my skin, each movement sending a jolt of pain up my arms. I glanced down, and my heart skipped a beat. 

"Seven hells," I muttered under my breath as the dizzying height made itself known.

I pressed on, scaling the wall as best as I could. Halfway up, I dared to believe I was making progress, but fate had other plans. My foot slipped on a precarious rock, and I felt myself plummet to the ground. 

I landed with a jarring thud, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.

A muffled cry escaped me as I lay sprawled on the ground, staring up at the indigo expanse of the night sky. The stars seemed to mock my plight. 

With a groan, I pushed myself up, brushing off my cloak in frustration. Realizing it was more of a hindrance than a help, I tossed it aside, my frustration evident.

Determined not to be thwarted, I tried again, managing to reach just under halfway before pausing to reassess.

"What are you doing, my lady?" a voice called out suddenly. 

I yelped in surprise, my fingers losing their grip as I scrambled to regain my balance. In a graceless tumble, I crashed to the ground.

I lay there, staring up at the heavens, lamenting my misfortune as the voice approached.

"Don't touch me!" I snapped, my voice sharp as he reached out to help me. He quickly withdrew, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, and I sighed heavily, glancing from the wall to him.

"Scaling the wall, what else does it look like?" I replied, my exasperation clear. He seemed taken aback by my tone.

"Why are you scaling the wall at this hour?" he asked, his tone genuine but puzzled. I considered his question for a moment before a sudden idea sparked in my mind.

"Yes, that's perfect!" I exclaimed, turning to him with a bright, hopeful smile. His sceptical gaze met mine.

"You could give me a boost up, and then I can navigate the tricky part," I suggested. He took a step back, extinguishing my hopeful smile with his reluctance.

"No," he said firmly and I groaned in frustration.

"You are truly a horrible person," I declared, my voice laden with annoyance. "How can you see a lady in distress and not offer assistance?" 

His reaction was a surprising burst of laughter, a reaction that did nothing but further annoy me.

"If you tell me why you're attempting such a daring escape, I promise I will help you afterwards," he said, crossing his arms with a look of genuine curiosity. 

I pursed my lips, contemplating whether to reveal my predicament.

"If you must know," I began, as he listened intently. "My family has betrothed me to the prince." 

I watched his eyes widen slightly. "I do not wish to marry him. I have never even met him. What if he's ugly or dull, or worse, a terrible person?" I finished, my irritation clear.

Instead of offering sympathy, he laughed again—this time, with genuine amusement. 

"I'm glad my predicament amuses you, but you promised to help me, so you must," I insisted, gesturing for him to come closer. He obliged, but then abruptly halted.

"I will not assist you over the wall," he said, his tone resolute. I sighed in exasperation, feeling as though this ordeal would never end, my patience quickly wearing thin.

"I will not help my future wife escape our union," he added. 

The weight of his words hit me like a blow, and my eyes widened, a mix of shock and disbelief swirling in my mind as the reality of the situation sank in.

"Prince Jacaerys?" I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and satisfaction.

The colour drained from my face as the realization settled. I had been scaling the wall to escape my own arranged marriage, only to find that the prince, my betrothed, had caught me and was now standing right in front of me.

My eyes swept over him, taking in every detail. He was nothing like I had imagined. Far from the monster I had conjured in my mind, he was undeniably handsome, with an effortless charisma that immediately dispelled my worst fears. 

I couldn't help but wonder how I had ever thought of running from someone like him.

"My prince, I truly apologize," I stuttered, attempting an awkward curtsy. 

I was painfully aware of how absurd the situation was, struggling to reconcile my desperate escape with the reality of facing my would-be husband.

He watched me with a mix of amusement and curiosity, clearly enjoying the irony of our encounter. 

I fumbled for the right words, my mind racing to understand how to address the man who was both my captor and the very reason I had been trying to flee.

He watched me with a new, softer gaze, and a genuine smile curved his lips. 

"No one told me you were this beautiful," he said, his voice warm and approving. "In fact, you might be too beautiful. People will talk."

My cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and I fumbled with my words as I attempted a modest, "Thank you." The compliment, unexpected and sincere, left me momentarily flustered.

He arched an eyebrow playfully. "Do you think I am ugly and dull?" His question, though lighthearted, made me acutely aware of how disoriented I was, struggling to maintain my composure.

"My prince," I stammered, my voice trembling with earnestness, "I spoke on impulse. I truly did not mean anything I said." My confession was met with a soft chuckle from him, the sound both reassuring and disarming.

"Would you still like assistance up the wall?" he asked, his tone now imbued with a teasing edge. 

I glanced from the daunting height of the wall to him, and then back to the wall, shaking my head in resignation.

He grinned, clearly amused by the turn of events. His expression softened, and he took a step closer, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of mischief and warmth. 

"Then perhaps we should discuss our next course of action," he suggested, the lightness in his tone making the situation seem less dire. He leaned slightly closer, his gaze both curious and engaging. 

"What troubled you enough to consider scaling a wall to escape me?" he asked, a playful edge in his voice that made it difficult not to smile at his jest.

I hesitated, then answered simply, "I do not know you."

He clicked his tongue thoughtfully, his expression shifting to one of contemplation. "You are correct," he said, nodding slowly. "We can change that."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts before offering a glimpse into his life. "I enjoy training with my brother Luke," he began, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

"Although he's not the best sparring partner, he tends to be too gentle in his approach. I also find great joy in soaring through the skies on my dragon, Vermax and, above all, I have a deep fondness for cake, especially lemon cake."

I stared at him for a moment, slightly taken aback by the unexpected turn the conversation had taken. His casual, almost endearing revelations seemed to defy the seriousness of our earlier exchange.

"Now, you must tell me something about yourself, my lady," he prompted, breaking the silence.

I shook myself from my daze and nodded slowly. "I enjoy reading," I began, trying to match his openness. "Occasionally, I like to go swimming in the open sea and most of all, I treasure the time I spend with my kitten, Biscuit."

He smiled warmly at my response. "We must arrange a meeting between Vermax and Biscuit," he suggested with a playful glint in his eye.

I raised an eyebrow. "And what if Vermax thinks Biscuit is his next snack?" The thought of my kitten being mistaken for a dragon's treat was not entirely comforting.

He laughed quietly, the sound rich and melodic. "I would protect Biscuit with all my strength," he assured me, his voice earnest.

"But," he continued, with a mischievous gleam, "if Biscuit were to take a daring leap onto Vermax's back, I might have to step in to mediate a peaceful introduction."

I chuckled, the image of Biscuit attempting such a bold manoeuvre brought a reluctant smile to my face. "Well, if you're prepared to play dragon diplomat, I suppose I can trust you with my precious kitten."

He placed a hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture. "Consider it my solemn vow," he declared with mock seriousness.

I couldn't help but laugh, the tension of our earlier conversation melting away. "I'll hold you to that, my prince. I'd hate to have to explain why my kitten became dragon fodder."

Our laughter was abruptly interrupted by a clap of thunder, and I jumped slightly at the sudden sound. The sky was now darkening rapidly.

"Perhaps we can continue this conversation inside," he suggested, his tone both practical and inviting. "Now that you've decided not to run off." I bit my lip, nodding sheepishly at the jeer.

As a small downpour began, I squinted to locate my discarded cloak. Before I could even bend down to retrieve it, he had already picked it up.

"Allow me," he said, his voice gentle and courteous as he approached me. 

With the grace of a true gentleman, he draped the cloak around my shoulders, his touch both tender and precise. The fabric enveloped me in a comforting embrace, and I nodded appreciatively as he deftly fastened the strings, securing it snugly against the chill of the rain.

As we began to walk toward the shelter of the castle, he glanced at me with a thoughtful expression. 

"Perhaps we should have a maester check you out," he suggested casually, his tone light but laced with concern.

I turned to him, raising my brows in surprise. "A maester?"

He nodded, his gaze shifting to me with a hint of amusement. "I saw you take a few tumbles," he admitted, a small, bemused smile playing on his lips as he gently pulled a small leaf out of my hair.

I swallowed my embarrassment, a flush creeping up my cheeks. Before I could react, I reached up and smacked the leaf from his hand with a playful swat.

"How mortifying," I muttered, trying to mask my chagrin with a sheepish grin.

He chuckled softly, the sound a gentle remedy to the lingering tension between us. 

"I assure you, there's no need to be embarrassed," he said, his eyes dancing with mirth. "In fact, this will make for a rather delightful story to share with our future children."

His words caught me off guard, and a deeper blush crept up my cheeks at the thought of such an intimate future. I quickly looked away, my gaze dropping to the rain-slicked stones beneath our feet. The steady patter of rain seemed to echo the rapid beat of my heart.

"Perhaps" I murmured the words barely audible.

"Could we possibly agree that this little escapade remains between us?" I asked, "I'd really appreciate it if this interaction wasn't mentioned to my mother or father."

He nodded, a knowing smile curling at the corners of his lips. "Yes, I believe it would be best not to announce your eagerness to escape me. Consider it a secret between us."

As we continued to walk towards the castle, the rain began to fall more heavily, but the shared laughter and understanding between us made the journey seem lighter.

In the years that followed, the tale of Prince Jacaerys and his wife would become a cherished legend, a story celebrated across generations. 

Our tale became a beloved fairy tale, told and retold to children and adults alike. 

It was a story of two genuine souls, intertwined in a narrative that captured the essence of love and destiny, our lives a testament to the magic of finding connection amidst the most unforeseen circumstances.

A/n - Yes this is inspired by that iconic scene of George and Charlotte in Queen Charlotte

[localvigilante]

Knights and Princesses (Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader)

One of the younger students at the school asks you and some other X-men to play a game of pretend. And a certain blue elf takes it as a chance to be a charming little dork. (shameless Kurt x Reader fluff w Scott and an unnamed x-baby making an appearance)

A.N. So, this was actually written many, many years ago on an old blog of mine but I've been wanting to write some Kurt stuff again, so I decided to dust it off, revise it, and post it here. Hope you enjoy!

The reader is called "princess" and is described as wearing a dress, but no other descriptors are present.

Kids were something else, you muse as you smooth out the creases in your elaborate outfit, particularly the children at Xavier’s school. You liked kids but one little tot had taken a great liking to you, she was about six and was always roping you into playing pretend with her. You didn’t mind, after all, who could say no to an excuse to act like a kid again? And if these little games between your harrowing missions made you and the girl smile, who were you to say no?

But, as you stand at the top of the main staircase, dressed in a pink, lacy princess dress, you wonder if you had to invest in proper costumes for the sessions of make-believe.

The dress was too small for you, the skirt not even going to your knees, and you had to leave the back unzipped just to fit in it; but it made the little one happy to see you oblige her wanting to play “Knights and Princesses” by playing the latter. You had naturally wanted to be the knight with her, but that role had been given to none other than…

“Oh Princess of Xavier castle, we are here to rescue you!” called a dramatic and accented voice from the bottom of the stairs. You watched as Kurt and the little one leaped from the shadows, both donning knightly costumes and plastic swords.

That was your cue, you step out and place your hand on the banister at the top of the grand staircase. “Oh my brave knights!” you cried in a wavering, simpering tone. Hey, if you were stuck as the princess, might as well have some fun, right? “Please, you must run and save yourselves!”

“Knight’s never run!” the girl shouted with pride, puffing out her chest.

“What she said!” Kurt confirmed.

“But, my heroes, you don’t understand! There’s a fearsome dragon- and he’ll surely destroy both of you!” You paused, but nothing happened. “I said.” you repeated, far more sharp this time, “He’s sure. To destroy. Both of you!”

“Rawer.” came a flat voice from the other side of the stairs.

Scott came out into the open, dressed in a cardboard and crayon-colored attempt at a dragon’s costume you and the mini knight had made to fit him. He had wanted to be a knight too, but folded like a cheap suit the moment the girl gave him the Big Sad Eyes and asked him to be their dragon.

Surprisingly, despite his flat tone, he wasn't doing too bad.

"Who dares enter my castle!" he said, ending with a much better roar than his first.

The little girl yelled dramatically “The Knights of the X Table, that's who! Now get back, you nasty beast! You won’t terrorize the princess any longer!”

" 'Nasty'? Well, that's a little uncalled f- AH!" Scott's mumbling was cut off as the tiny knight charged, swinging her sword wildly.

“Sir Kurt, you get the princess to safety, I’ll deal with the creature!” She called back as Scott the dragon let out another yell and ran for the next room.

Kurt looked up at you with a wink, “My pleasure!” and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

He reappeared next to you, that wicked grin displayed brilliantly on his face. His tail gripped the back of your dress and pulled, effectively causing you to spin into his arms. You couldn’t help the heat rising in your cheeks as his face neared yours.

“Are you ready, meine Prinzessin?” he asked in a low, almost intimate tone. But before you had time to reply with anything but flustered mumbles, he pointed his sword at the sky and yelled “Fear not, your Highness, for I shall throw you to safety!”

That got your attention “Wait ‘throw’!?”

Before you could free yourself of the elf, he lifted you into his arms and the gesture would have been romantic, if he had not immediately tossed you over the banister.

You only had time to scream something along the lines of ‘I’ll run you through with that plastic sword, Wagner’ before you were engulfed in black and purple smoke. Next thing you knew, Kurt was crouching on the ground floor holding you closely…and barely concealing his teasing chuckles!

“Come now, Liebling, did you really think I would let you get hurt?” He asked, obviously still amused at how shocked your face was.

“You could have warned me,” you crossed your arms, but even you knew all he had to do was smile to be forgiven.

“Ah, but where would be the fun in that?”

You rolled your eyes, but then the voice of Kurt’s fellow knight in cardboard armor came from the other room. “Sir Kurt, have you gotten the princess yet!?”

“Oh, my dear knight, thank you for freeing me from that awful tower!” you cried, falling back into character easily and making sure the little one heard you.

“Of course, my fair damsel,” Kurt replied in that theatrical voice, but then “anything for you,” he added in that same low tone he used before. “You know, usually the prince gets a kiss in reward when saving a damsel in distress.”

“Is that so?” You ran your hands up his chest and leaned in so your lips were just a breath apart. “Well, my prince…” you swore you heard him draw in a breath and hold it, anticipation simmering- right before you snatched the plastic sword from his hand and jumped to your feet. “You'll have to get your kiss after we defeat the dragon!”

The look on his face was priceless as you winked at him and turned towards the next room. You brandished the sword proudly and charged towards the mini knight and Scott the dragon, yelling like a Shakespearian actor about how the beast’s days were numbered.

You didn’t see the look of complete adoration etched on Kurt’s face as he watched you, tail swaying dreamily behind him. After allowing himself a smitten sigh, he stood straight and pulled a second plastic sword from his belt.

"Wait for me!"

...

Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[lionneee]

Your sworn sword

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: oral sex (male), degradation, knife play talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

Part 1 -> Part 2

{Request: I have a request! Aemond is send across the narrow sea to be the sworn sword/knight of a (verryy beautiful) princess from a noble house is esso’s. As punishment what he did to lucerysThanks for reading dear 💙}

Dear Jace,

I am begging you. I read your letter, and it shattered me from the inside.

Aemond’s presence scares me. My father can’t see it, but he is darkness.

He is empty inside.

I do not wish to be here any further, I want to escape. I will join your mother’s cause, I will do anything.

Please, just help me escape from him.

You Lady dear friend.

You wrote it weeks ago. During that time, you tried to avoid every possibility of being alone with Aemond.

What happened that night was something you were deeply ashamed of, and despite how good it felt, it was wrong.

You started to spend more time in the garden, you tried desperately to find some other ladies to be with, you even spent more time with your father.

You started to pay more attention to other people's approaches, you observed more, trying to understand if someone else other than you could have experienced something similar to what you did.

After the way Aemond left your room that night, after burning down Jace’s letter, you felt cold.

It wasn’t cold, but you still felt cold.

You felt alone. Unloved, unwanted.

You found yourself hoping for warm, strong arms to embrace your body, and secure you from the rest of the world.

You found yourself wishing for a different life.

Not as a Lady, but maybe as a commoner, a woman with a nice house out of the city walls, deep in nature, spending the day by taking care of the garden and the animals.

Aemond changed too after that night.

He got more violent.

You noticed the first time a couple did days later, when you were passing by the training yard, and you found him massacrating a mannequin.

He was still the cold, composed, stoic sworn sword you had always known from the outside, but there was something else, something you couldn’t quite name.

Then the day came.

Jace had answered you.

As soon as you held the letter in your hands, you flew in the garden, fidgeting expertly through the trees and flowers, trying to find a place where you knew Aemond would have never found you.

With trembling hands, you quickly broke the sigil with no house stamp on it, and opened the letter.

Dearest Lady friend,

I have tried to ignore your plea for help, for the good of my family, but I couldn’t. The weight of your words pulls on my heart, and though I am torn between duty and desire, I cannot leave you to face this peril alone. 

I am familiar with my uncle’s cruelty, and I cannot bring myself to leave you to it.

I will fly on Vermax, and we shall meet at the confines of your land the same night you’ll receive this letter, in the woods, covered by the trees, where no eyes will find us, and no ears will hear our plans.

Run south, as far as you can before nightfall. There is a hollow oak at the edge of the river, a place where time has forgotten. Hide there until I arrive. You must trust no one. The walls have ears, and shadows grow long in the presence of danger.

Bring only what you need for the journey, whatever you might need in the future you will find it at Dragon Stone. I will fly hard and fast, praying to the Gods to favor us both. We will meet again under the moonlit sky.

Your dear friend, Jace.

He was coming to get you.

He was coming to get you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the weight of Jace’s words settled over you. He was coming to get you, and your long-awaited escape from this nightmare was now within reach. But with the promise of freedom came a flood of uncertainty. You could feel it, each step from this moment would be perilous.

You pressed the letter close to your chest, its words a fragile lifeline to a future you could barely dare to imagine.

You had to act fast.

With trembling fingers, you folded Jace's letter and tucked it inside your bodice. You couldn’t risk anyone finding it, not Aemond, not your father, no one. The moments you had were fleeting, and every second counted.

You rushed back to your chambers, moving with a quiet urgency. Every footstep felt like it echoed too loudly in the silent halls, as though each beat of your heart might betray you. 

“Where were you?” Aemond snarled as he grabbed your arm, stopping you on the way back to the castle.

You turned and looked at him, swallowing with difficulty. You tried to put on a mask of indifference, trying to act as if your heart wasn’t pumping out of your breast.

“Breathing some fresh air.” You said. “In the garden.” You added to be more precise, knowing that he would have asked.

“You know you’re supposed to have me by your side. Always.” He added, his voice low and angry.

He was always so angry.

You knew you had to shake off any kind of suspect, so the best way you thought you could do, was to make him uncomfortable.

“I… I wasn’t feeling very well.” You said, earning a scoff from him, but you didn’t budge. “Ladies problem.” You added, hoping he would immediately drop the conversation. He looked down at you, silently, then he looked away, turning his head to the side.

“Don’t run again.” He growled, then he took a step back, waiting for you to start walking again. You nodded, and turned you back at him.

You were still tense. Too tense.

You took a deep breath and tried to relax your shoulders as you walked back in your room.

You held your hands tightly together on your lap, the excitement at the idea of escaping this place making your hands shake.

As soon as you reached your chambers you stopped a servant on her way out.

“Prepare me a bath, please.” The servant immediately nodded, and you slipped inside your room, leaving Aemond guarding the door.

You took a deep breath, running to your bed, taking Jace’s letter from your bodice to hide it in the pillows.

You were going to run away.

No more castle.

No more nasty looks from the ladies.

No more father.

No more Aemond.

Aemond.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. Soon, nightfall would cloak the land in shadows, and that would be your chance. You stood at the window, your hands trembling slightly as you watched the sky darken. Time passed agonizingly slowly. The uncertainty tightened your chest. But you had to trust in Jace, in the bond you had shared since childhood.

In the love you held for each other.

He was your last hope.

As the final rays of light disappeared, you slipped out of your chambers and made your way to the courtyard. 

You found an old dark cloak, you changed into a simple dress, cursing yourself for not owning any form of pants, then you waited. 

You knew you couldn’t go out of the door, Aemond was there, he would have seen you and dragged you back in.

You also couldn’t crawl out of the window, it was too high.

You bit your lip, pacing back and forth.

Maybe if you made Aemond move.

You quickly walked to the door, the cloak hidden behind you and you opened the door of your room slightly.

No one.

Aemond wasn’t there.

He must have gone to grab something to eat or drink.

Perfect, it was perfect.

The moon, pale and full, began to rise, casting long shadows along the walls. The air was cool and crisp, and each breath felt like a battle against your nerves. You moved quickly, making sure not to draw the attention of any guards. You had memorized every path through the gardens, every hidden corner where you could disappear from sight.

Finally, you reached the edge of the woods. The dark canopy of trees stretched out before you, their towering forms offering both comfort and terror. You had to go. You glanced back at the castle, looming in the distance, its towers like sentinels watching over your every move.

Then, without looking back again, you ran.

The forest was thick, but you moved swiftly, guided by the faint silver light of the moon. Branches scraped at your skin, leaves whispered beneath your feet, but nothing could slow you down now. You had to reach the hollow oak, and had to find your way to safety before it was too late. 

The hollow oak. 

Jace had said it was a place where time had forgotten.

The sound of the river reached your ears before you saw it, a soft, rushing murmur that promised refuge. You followed it, breathless and trembling. Then you saw it: the ancient oak, its massive trunk gnarled and twisted by the ages. It stood like a guardian, waiting for you to step into its shelter.

“Back to the chasing, I see.” You screamed at the voice, so near your ear, and so familiar.

Aemond.

Run.

You immediately started running, hoping to leave Aemond behind.

Maybe if you tried to-

You heard a sound of metal dropping on the ground from a distance and froze.

He was dropping his armor.

To run faster.

To get to you.

You immediately started running again, trying to avoid the trees and roots to not fall, but your cloak kept getting caught in the branches.

You had to stop every time and pull it free, until at last, hearing a noise too close to you, you decided to take it off and leave it there.

You turned to start running again, hitting something and falling back on the floor.

Towering over you, with the most hateful look in the world, there was Aemond.

You crawled back, but he grabbed your ankle to pull you right where you were.

“You like running? Like a scared sheep?” He growled as he let go of your ankle, letting it drop back on the ground.

“Get-“ 

“Don’t.” He hissed. “Shut the fuck up.” He pulled off a dagger from his belt, and your body froze.

No.

“Aem-“

“I said. Shut. Up.” He repeated. 

He knelt down before you and slipped the dagger under your bodice, then cut the first inches, making your breasts more exposed.

You gasped surprised as you looked up at him, anger written all over your expression.

“You-“ This time, you stopped yourself, his single eye was threatening enough.

He twisted the dagger expertly in his hand, so the blade was pointing towards him, and the handle was right in front of your face.

“Speak up. I dare you.” There was a faint smirk in his lip, an almost imperceptible curve at the side of his mouth.

You took the challenge.

You opened your mouth to speak, but as soon as you did so, you found yourself with the handle of the dagger between your lips.

You widened your eyes as looked at him, pulling back immediately, but he quickly placed his free hand behind your head, slipping his fingers in your hair.

“Suck.” He ordered as his eye moved to your lips. You let out a growl, that after a harsh, hurtful tug he gave to your hair, turned into a whine.

You huffed, irritated and started to suck the handle of the dagger.

His eye wouldn’t leave your lips, and soon, he started moving the dagger, so the handle would get further inside your mouth, almost to the blade, then he would pull it out.

You let out a gagged choked sound every time the tip of the handle would get too far in your mouth, your head instinctively trying to pull back, but his hand never allowed you to do it.

“Such perfect lips…” He hummed as he kept watching. “Used so wrongly.” His smirk widened as he looked at your eyes, which only hardened further with anger.

He pulled the dagger out of your mouth and stood up.

“You’re always so ready to talk back to me, uh?” He shook his head, chuckling bitterly to himself. “Make my life harder, as if being here wasn’t already an enough humiliation. But take care of you.” His lips curled. “I couldn’t have fallen lower.” 

You would have never admitted it, but his words stinged. Hard.

“Then go away.” You hissed back. He looked back down at you and he undid his pants.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He breathed out a chuckle, pulling down his pants. “I just thought of teaching you another lesson.” He grabbed your hair harshly, pulling them back into a makeshift ponytail. “Stop avoiding me.” He growled, he gave a harsh tug at your hair, forcing you on your knees, pulling your face closer to his crotch.

Now you could see it.

It was long, pale and veiny.

The head was red, very red, enough to seem hurtful.

“Now open your mouth.” He ordered, looking down at you. There was a veil of darkness over his eye, but you strangely didn’t feel threatened by it.

Maybe that was the reason why you followed his instruction and opened your mouth.

Your mouth got filled with something bigger than a dagger handle.

Something that felt softer against your lips and your tongue, something salty.

You looked up at him as he put a hand over your throat, finding him already looking down at you.

“Those eyes almost make me want to do it gently.” He said softly, but his smirk said something else. “Almost.” He added in a lower tone of voice as his hips bucked forward, pushing his cock deeper in your mouth.

You immediately gagged, your eyes filled with tears as you tried to cough around him and tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Watch the teeth.” He growled as his hips moved again, this time less further, enough to not draw a bad reaction from you.

“Hollow your cheeks, my lady.” He said, his voice shifted into a mocking grunt at the last two words. “Breath through your nose.” He instructed.

He kept thrusting in your mouth until eventually, you didn’t feel the need to cough and pull away when the tip of his cock reached your throat. Aemond moved your head on his length, forcing you to always take more. His whole cock was drenched in saliva, it ran down to his stones and your chin, drooling on the ground as well, your cheeks stained with tears of effort.

“There.” He moaned, his eye never left you. “Learning something?” He chuckled as he threw his head back with a grunt, his hands moving your head faster. “It doesn’t matter if you’re not.” He added with a low chuckle. “You’ll have time to learn. Every morning, before breakfast time.”

You grunted, and hollowed your cheeks again, adding more friction to his movements.

“Fuck!” He growled and pushed you away, making you almost lose your balance and fall back. He looked down at you and grabbed your cheeks in his hand, squeezing them.

“You’re just begging to be fucked, uh?” He gave you a light slap on the face, the action leaving you more stunned than hurt.

He growled as he knelt down again, grabbing your hips and turning you on your hand and knees in a move, manhandling you at his liking.

You weren’t sure why you were letting him do everything he wanted.

Maybe because you knew he could make you feel it again.

Heaven.

He raised your skirts with urgency and grabbed the dagger from the ground to tear your underwear and thighs.

“Ladies problems, uh?” He chuckled, looking down at your core, glistening with juices. “My dearest friend.” He laughed, citing the letters between you and Jacaerys, as you felt your cheeks hot at his mocking tone, the way he made it sound like a lame, shameful way to address someone. “I’ll fuck you until you won’t be able to walk on those legs.” He said as he passed his fingers on your core, finding it drenched.

It only amused him more.

“You liked being taught a lesson?” He asked, he leaned forward, grabbing your hair to pull your head back, making you arch your back as he slipped his finger inside your mouth, making you taste the strange fluid.

“You drenched my cock enough, you had to be sure you too were wet enough? So I could fill that virgin cunt of yours?” He mocked you as your face felt hotter, shame filling your chest. You tried to mumble something, but he kept moving his finger in your mouth, making it impossible to speak a word. “What’s that?” You could hear how amused he was, and it sent another pang of shame through your body. “Right. Not so virgin anymore.” He slipped his fingers out of your mouth, straightening up to look back down at your core, grabbing your asscheeks and spreading them apart. “Not after my cock spreaded you open.”

He gritted his teeth, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you as he barely even slipped in.

You shifted on your place, biting your lower lip as you moved your hips back to meet him, to try to feel it again inside you.

Aemond obviously laughed at that.

“Not even resisting.” He hummed, pushing the angry tip of his cock past your folds, earning a sound between a moan and a whine. “Do you think you’re ready to take it all, mh?” He asked as he leaned forward, letting his length move further inside you. 

You groaned as your fingers sighed in the dirt, your eyes rolled back as you felt him filling you slowly, inch by inch.

“They say it’s supposed to be painful the first time.” He said as he pulled your head back again, so he could see your face from above. “But look at you. You look like a whore.” He smiled and let go of your hair, letting you fall back on your hands. “Do you like the pain, my dearest friend ?” He pulled back, and thrusted back in with a firm, hard movement.

“Ah!” You gasped as your body jolted forward, a small pit in your lower stomach pulsing in pain, that you welcomed with a moan as Aemond slipped a hand between your bodies to rub at that sweet pearl hidden between your legs.

Aemond thrusted again, with the same force, slowly picking up the pace as the pain you felt started to fade away, leaving space for pleasure, pleasure and pleasure.

You couldn't have controlled it even if you could have, so you just let your voice out, moaning at every movement he did, focusing only on the heavenly feeling, not even hearing the puns of wings battling in the wind.

Aemond rose his eye to the dark sky, smiling.

“Look who’s here…” He hummed as he grabbed your hair again, tugging you back until your eyes looked at the sky.

A dragon.

Jace. 

“He’s here for you, isn’t he?” He laughed in your ear. “Maybe we should invite him to watch.” He whispered.

Jace.

You thought.

I’m here. See me. 

You watched as the dragon flew in circles for a while, getting closer to the ground, but then, he rose back up, faster, flying away at high speed.

“Looks like he won’t save you.” He added. “No chance to be a princess now.” He laughed. “Not that you’ve lost much. I could make you a queen.” He added in a lower voice.

“Impossible.” You choked out after another of his punishing thrusts. “You’re a-a second son.”

Aemond pulled his hand off your pearl, grabbing your hips and moving them back back against him, making sure his cock was deep inside you before he stopped his movements completely.

“I guess you’re right.” He whispered in your ear. “You’ll have to settle as my slut then.” He pushed you back down, until the side of your face pressed against the dirt, his hand tight on the back of your neck and he resumed his movements with a newfound speed, every thrust knocking the air out of your lungs. “Mine.” He clarified, his voice strained as he grabbed the skin of your ass again, spreading it apart to see his cock slamming inside you with a wet, squelching sound. “Hear how wet you are.” He moaned as he moved his hands to your hips, his fingers digging in your skin. “It doesn’t even look like you need to be saved.” He planted his feet on the ground, raising from his knees and bringing you back with him so he wouldn’t have to pull out, he stayed down, his legs bent as he started thrusting again, the new position allowing him to get deeper, touch spots inside you you didn’t know existed, his head bullying a particular place inside you, that make your jaw fall slack and your eyes roll in the back of your skull, your sounds reaching another volume, showing another level of pleasure.

“Yeah, moan for me.” He growled. “Moan and come for me, come on my cock —“ He panted. “Fucking drench it even more -“ He snarled as he managed to move faster, inhumanly possible, and drawing you closer to heaven.

You felt your stomach clench, tense almost painfully as your walls squeezed his cock, gifting your ears of another moan from him.

“Come.” He ordered. “Come on.” He added with some urgency. 

You groaned louder, your hands closing into fists as you felt the tension snap, and you completely let go of everything.

“Aemond — !” You let out a long moan as your climax hit you, waves of pleasure crushing on your body, followed by some shivers that made you spasm lightly.

“Yes — Fuck!” He moaned as he pulled out of you, jerking himself furiously as he kept the tip of his cock pressed against your clit, his other hand on your lower back to keep you still as you tried to squirm from overstimulation as his tip rubbed against your pearl.

Aemond let out a choked moan as white strings of cum painted your core and inner thighs.

What followed was a moment of silence, except for your panting and the sounds wind and nature in the woods. You closed your eyes only for a moment, until you heard Aemond stand back up and start to walk away.

You panicked a little and lowered your skirts, raising on your hands as you tried to see his silhouette in the darkness.

Was he going to leave you like this?

In the middle of the woods?

You sat up on the ground, fixing your skirts as you looked around.

What if there were wolves around?

But then, two strong arms slipped under your knees and around your waist hoisting you up.

Aemond started walking out of the woods, where his horse was waiting.

“I would never leave you. Especially not like that.” He said calmly.

Hell the wolves.

You had a dragon.

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy @agoldenwoe

[novaursa]

Hello, how are you? I hope you're doing well!Well, I would like to request (if it's alright with you) a Daemon x sister reader, where the reader is not like the other ladies and enjoys swords, frequently going out to explore beyond the walls of the Red Keep. She is always being rebellious, and Daemon loves that and sees it as a challenge to try to "tame" her.You can take it in an explicit direction or not; feel free to decide. I just love your writing <3.

Dragon's Heat

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Daemon finally catches you.

- Paring: sister!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: ❤️

The sky above King's Landing is ashen with the remnants of twilight, and the shadows stretch long beneath the Red Keep. Your boots echo on the cobblestones as you race through the lower levels, your heart pounding in your chest, exhilaration coursing through your veins. The wind whips against your face as you move with ease, slipping through the narrow passages, a sword at your hip and freedom in your grasp.

Daemon's voice, low and commanding, had warned you countless times. The game you played was dangerous—escaping the confines of the Keep, disappearing into the city, slipping through his fingers when he thought he had you under control. You had always thrived in this rebellion, enjoying the chase, knowing your older brother's temper flared as hot as dragonfire whenever you eluded him.

But tonight, something feels different. There's a heaviness in the air that wasn't there before. An intensity that curls your stomach in both excitement and apprehension.

You round a corner, a smirk tugging at your lips, thinking you’ve once again bested the Rogue Prince. The thrill of escaping his grasp is too sweet to resist. You’ve always loved this — the sense of danger, the tension between you and Daemon that has simmered since childhood. His attempts to reign you in have always failed, just as they’ve only served to stoke the fire burning between you.

But tonight, Daemon is done with games.

You barely hear him approach. A shadow descends from above as swiftly as a hawk, and suddenly, you're knocked back, your breath stolen as strong hands grab you from behind. You struggle on instinct, your body twisting, but his grip is unrelenting. You’re pinned against the cold stone of the walls, and the familiar scent of him—fire, steel, and leather—envelops you.

"Little dragon," Daemon’s voice purrs, dangerously soft in your ear, "you’ve run for the last time."

His breath is hot against your skin as you feel him press his body firmly against yours, the heat radiating from him overwhelming in the cool night air. You thrash, but it only excites him more. He revels in your fight, in your wildness, but tonight—tonight he will tame you. He must.

“You thought you could escape me?” His tone is mocking, filled with amusement. One hand grips your wrist tightly, pulling it behind your back, while the other trails along the curve of your waist. He knows you too well—knows how to touch, how to push just enough to ignite the tempest inside you. You snarl at him, your teeth bared like a feral beast, but Daemon only chuckles darkly.

“You were born to be mine,” he growls, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine despite the rage boiling inside you. “You fight it, but we both know the truth. I’ll always catch you, Y/N. Always.”

His fingers tighten around your wrist, twisting your arm behind you, making you gasp. His other hand finds the hilt of your sword, the one you’ve always wielded with such defiance, and he yanks it free, tossing it aside with a clang. You’re unarmed now, vulnerable, and he knows it.

"You’ve always been too wild, too reckless," Daemon murmurs, pressing closer until you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheek. His voice lowers, almost possessive. "But tonight, little sister… you belong to me."

His words send a thrill through you that you try to deny. You’ve fought against this—against him—for so long. His need to claim, to dominate, to control. But something in the way he speaks tonight, the way he holds you pinned against the wall, ignites a different fire in your chest. One that has been waiting to burn.

You try to twist free one last time, but his grip is iron. He presses his body even closer to yours, his chest rising and falling with the effort of his own control. The dragon in him is barely restrained, and you can feel it—the desire to break you, to make you submit.

With a growl of frustration, you finally stop fighting, slumping against the stone, your breath coming in harsh gasps. Daemon’s lips brush against your ear again, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice as he feels you surrender, if only for a moment.

“There’s the good girl I knew was hiding beneath all that fire.”

His hand slides from your wrist to your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of his power, his dominance. You shiver beneath his touch, feeling the weight of his control sinking into you. His mouth is on your neck now, hot and demanding, claiming you in the way only a Targaryen can.

“I am your brother," Daemon growls, his voice low and dangerous, "but I am more than that. I am your dragon, and you are mine, Y/N.”

His hands roam, possessive, as though he is marking every inch of you. And as his lips capture yours, harsh and unrelenting, you know that you cannot run anymore. You are caught. Subdued.

And deep down, a part of you realizes that you’ve always wanted to be.

Daemon’s lips crash against yours with a force that steals your breath, the taste of him—hot and demanding—setting your senses alight. His hands roam over your body with the same wild intensity that burns in his eyes. You can feel the hunger in him, the dragon within him unleashed at last, and for once, you don’t resist. You let the fire consume you.

Your back is pressed hard against the stone, your fingers instinctively finding their way into his silver hair, pulling as you respond to his passion with your own. For so long, you had fought this—fought him. But now, with his body pressed against yours, there’s no more room for denial. Daemon was right all along. You’ve always belonged to him.

His hands slide down your body, rough and possessive, gripping your hips as if to remind you that there’s no escaping him now. His mouth moves from your lips to your throat, trailing heat down your skin, and a shiver courses through you as his teeth graze the sensitive flesh. His growl rumbles deep in his chest as you arch into him, giving him more of yourself.

"Good girl," he mutters against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. The words send a thrill through you, igniting a fierce hunger that you’ve kept buried for too long.

Daemon’s hands move to your waist, lifting you effortlessly as if you weigh nothing. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, your body molding against his as the world around you disappears. There’s only him now—Daemon, with his dragon’s fire, and the overwhelming need he’s ignited in you.

He pushes you back against the cold stone, the contrast of heat and coolness making your senses spin. His lips return to yours, and this time there’s no hesitation, no more games. His kiss is wild, full of fire, as his hands move with practiced skill, loosening the ties of your clothes, his fingers brushing over your skin in a way that sends sparks racing through your blood.

You tug at his tunic, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. The moment his skin meets yours, it’s as though the fire between you roars into an inferno. Your hands explore his chest, the muscles taut beneath your fingers, as if his very body was forged in dragonfire.

“You’ve always fought me, Y/N," he growls, his voice thick with desire. His hands move down to your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you firmly in place. “But I knew this day would come. I knew you’d stop running.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you meet his gaze, his violet eyes burning with raw, primal need. There’s no room for words now—only action, only the burning fire between you that has been waiting for this moment to erupt.

Daemon moves with a fierce, relentless energy, claiming you in every sense of the word. His touch is possessive, his kisses bruising, but there’s a tenderness beneath the intensity, a bond that goes beyond mere passion. You can feel it in the way he moves, the way his hands grip you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. Like you’re his treasure.

Your breath comes in gasps, your body responding to his in a way that feels instinctual, primal. His name escapes your lips in a soft, breathless whisper, and the sound seems to drive him even further. He grips you tighter, his lips moving to your collarbone, your neck, tasting every inch of you as though he’s been starving for you.

"Mine," he growls against your skin, his breath hot, his voice ragged with need. "You are mine."

And in that moment, you know it’s true. You’ve always been his.

The world narrows down to the heat of your bodies, the rhythm of your breathing, the fire that burns between you. Everything else—the rebellion, the walls you’ve built, the years of resisting him—falls away. There’s only this. Only you and Daemon, bound by fire and blood, locked in an unbreakable dance.

And for the first time, you let yourself surrender fully to him. You let him take you, wildly, passionately, with a force that consumes you entirely. You give in to the fire, let it burn through you, knowing that no one else could ever make you feel this way—alive, free, and utterly, irrevocably his.

Daemon’s hands tighten around you, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate, as if he’s waited his whole life for this moment. His lips crash against yours once more, and you return the kiss with equal fervor, your fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer, wanting more, needing more.

The fire rages on, wild and uncontained, until you’re both left breathless, your bodies entwined, hearts pounding in unison. Daemon’s forehead rests against yours, his breath ragged as he whispers, “You will never run from me again.”

And in that moment, with your body still trembling from the aftermath, you know that you never will.

[quietstormxr]

More than Worthy - Clueless Girl - Pt 2

Bodhi Durran x Reader

Angst, Fluff

Requested Part 2 to Clueless Girl

Summary: There's no time for holding yourself back anymore.

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: Swearing, some Fourth Wing Spoilers

As your awareness returns, you can’t help but squint your eyes at the staunch white that is burning your eyelids. Next, you notice the pungent smell of antiseptic and healing herbs assaulting your nostrils. You scrunch your nose as you slowly begin to blink your eyes open. 

When you can finally open your eyes fully and focus, you scan the room. You see a chair that has been pulled by the bed, but it is currently empty. Your brows furrow in confusion trying to piece back together the last day or so. 

How did I end up here?

‘Gentle One.’ You hear as a soft voice stirs in your mind, Ezzonth.

‘What happened Ezzonth?’ You question trying to piece everything together in your mind. 

Before your dragon has a chance to remind you, there are muffled voices talking from outside the door.

“You’ve been here long enough Bodhi. You can’t miss any more classes while waiting on her to recover.” You hear a male voice state with a sense of command.

With your fuzzy mind, it’s hard for you to try and piece together who is speaking, but obviously it must be someone from leadership and Bodhi.

“Why?” You hear another voice question with a snarky tone. You assume it must be Bodhi. “How long did you sit around waiting for Violet to wake up after the fight with Barlowe?”

You furrow your brows. Fight? Is that why you’re in the Infirmary?

“That’s not the same thing. Your life isn’t tied to hers. Besides, I thought you said she was just a clueless girl.”

With that last sentence everything whirs back into place, like all the puzzle pieces arranging themselves correctly. It must be Bodhi and Xaden outside the door. As you start to panic at the thought of having to come face to face with Bodhi, one of the healers walks into the room to check on you.

The man in front of you gives you a small smile. “Glad to see you’re finally awake. Your boyfriend has been sitting here the last two days waiting for you to wake up.” 

Your eyebrows immediately shoot up at the realization that you’ve been laying in the infirmary for two days. A second later, what the healer said hits you in the face.

“Actually,” you say hesitantly. “That guy isn’t my boyfriend. Is there any way that you can make him leave without letting him know I’m awake?”

The healer must sense that there is an underlying story to your request, but he just shakes his head in agreement.

“Of course I can.” He says calmly. “I’ll just get both of them to leave and then I’ll come back and check on you, okay?”

You nod your head back and mumble a quick thanks before you’re watching him walk back out the door. You strain to hear what he says over the cacophony of sounds in the infirmary.

“I’m sorry to you both, but I must ask you to leave.” He starts before you hear the shuffle of two sets of feet.

“Why? Is she awake?” You hear Bodhi and you watch the door incredulously at the hopeful tone that he takes.

“No, she’s not. But we need to check her over and you won’t be able to come back in for a while. Why don’t you head to classes, and you can return again this evening after dinner.” You can almost see Bodhi’s face in your mind’s eye in how he will want to say no. 

“Come on Bodhi.” You hear Xaden coax. “You can come check on her again later.” 

As you hear him talking, you see the shadows at the end of the bed begin to shift. As if a light is turned on, you immediately reach for Ezzonth’s power and build up a shield around yourself and strengthen your mental shields. The last thing you want right now is to have Xaden bursting through the door to mock you or look down on you.

Soon enough, you watch as the shadows seem to settle back on the floor into their natural shape. You inhale deeply and try to calm your racing heart. 

Gods, when did everything become so fucking complicated?

The healer comes back in and begins to ask you questions and check your current vital signs. 

“Although the blade went through your side, it just barely nicked your kidney. You’re very lucky.” He says looking over everything.

“You were also lucky that the guy that’s fretting over you got here so fast and demanded you see Nolon. If he would’ve been five minutes later, you may not have made it.” He says looking at you seeming to ask a question you know you aren’t going to answer. 

You just shake your head back to him as you continue to listen. With Nolon’s mending, the reason you were out for two days was due to the amount of blood you lost. The healer turns you to your side and you look back to see a new five-inch scar slicing through your side.  You shrug your shoulders at the revelation and move to try and sit up. 

Your head swims momentarily with black dots dancing in your vision, but soon enough it all dissipates. 

“Am I clear to go back to my room while everyone is in classes?” You ask hoping that you can get to the safety of your room before you run into anyone. 

“I just need to check with the Head Healer, but I believe you should be good to go. Give me about five minutes.” He turns to leave but before making it completely out the door he turns.

“Are you sure you want to leave before that guy comes back to check on you?”

You can’t help the glare that marks your face at the questioning of your decisions. The healer must take that as a warning and doesn’t press further while continuing out of the room. 

Soon enough you’ve been cleared with instructions to continue to rest for the next four days in your room. The healers had confirmed that someone from their quadrant would be by to check on you three times a day with meals as well. 

Confident that you’d get four more days of avoiding all your problems, you begin your trek back to your room. Fortunately, there is class for another thirty minutes so there aren’t any riders currently milling about. You take this as the blessing it is thanking Zinhal and swiftly make your way back to your room and shut the door making sure your wards are still in place. 

Once inside the safety of your room, you let out a sigh of relief. However, it is short lived when you start to think everything over in the quiet of your room. 

Since when did you become the scared girl that couldn’t face her fears again? Were you really going to let a comment from a guy be the reason that you wilted back in on yourself?

The more and more you let your brain wonder, the more indignant you became at the thought that someone could control how you perceived yourself.

‘This is what I chose you for, Gentle One. You are my rider, and you are more than worthy.’ Ezzonth purrs at you.

With that reminder from your dragon, you let a plan begin to formulate in your head before drifting off to sleep. 

Unfortunately, your rest is interrupted about an hour later by heavy knocks on your door. As you slowly regain your consciousness from sleep you register that someone is talking along with the annoyingly loud knocking.

“Y/N, Love.” You hear someone call. “Please answer the door. Please.”

You rapidly blink your eyes and try to shake yourself awake. You realize that all the blood loss you suffered from the spar is still making you sluggish. As you are finally able to get yourself to rise from your bed, you slowly shuffle over to the door. Before opening it, you rest your arm on the wall and your head follows leaning against it. You drag in a few more deep breaths as you hear three more heavy knocks on your door.

“Please Lo –” The voice cuts off as you draw open the door slightly to be met with worried deep brown eyes. 

Still groggy from being woken up, your mind doesn’t seem to want to process the sight in front of you. 

Finally, your brain seems to catch up again and you slap yourself mentally when you realize that you’ve just opened the door for Bodhi. Narrowing your eyes in a glare, you go to close the door again when you’re stopped by Bodhi’s arm.

“Go away Bodhi.” You snap in a tired voice.

“No, please let me in. Let me talk to you please. What happened? What’s the matter?” He says in rapid succession, his tone rising with the panic shining in his eyes. 

“I have nothing to say to you.” You say in a deadpanned tone, letting your eyes go cold. 

“Why love? Please talk to me.” Bodhi repeats as you can see the terror in his eyes begin to rise and his hand reaching out for you.

“Do NOT call me that.” You hiss out at him while backing up a step. Without thinking it over much in your mind, you continue. “Why don’t you go find some other ‘clueless girl’ to be your love, because you’ve lost your chance with me.”

You continue to watch with cold eyes as your venomous words finally seem to find their mark. Bodhi’s eyes blow wide with continued panic and his arm that was holding the door open falls back down to his side. Soon enough, you watched sorrow and regret find his features, but that was the last thing you saw before you slammed the door in his face.

As soon as the door was closed, your back was to the door, and you let yourself sink to the floor. Even though you wanted to forget Bodhi for his callous words, you couldn’t help the way your heart would leap when he called you love.

As promised, for the next four days you were visited by a healer and brought meals to your room. A few of your friends and squad mates had visited throughout the days, but mercifully Bodhi seemed to get the message and didn’t return. 

As the day came for you to return to classes, you solidified your plan in your mind. No longer would you let anyone think you were something to play with or someone to walk over. Some people knew of your previous history and lineage in the rider’s quadrant, but most were ignorant. 

With this ignorance, you relished the looks that were sent your way when you entered back into formation after finally being cleared. You had brought out your leathers from home that molded perfectly to your curves, showing off the ways in which you had honed your body that the Central Issue leathers just didn’t do. Your flight jacket was tailored to your body in a cut that accentuated all your features.

To top your new look off, you pulled out the two short swords that you excelled at from the back of your armoire and now walked with them strapped to your back. With your hair now secured in braids, you confidently walked to the courtyard and took your place with your squad. 

As you turned, you smirked at the disbelieving looks on your friends faces. So far, none of them had seen you fully dressed out, weapons and all. 

“Damn L/N. What happened to our quiet little squad member?” Nico, one of the guys in your squad, teased. 

You look over at your squad member and give a devious smirk. Something about everyone’s reactions has your confidence soaring even though you aren’t usually the one to want this attention. Before entering the quadrant, you had told yourself you’d keep your head down and wouldn’t draw attention to yourself. However, after the events of the past few weeks, you knew that just wasn’t going to work any longer.

“No kidding, you look hella dangerous with those swords.” Iona calls from your right. 

You smile back at her knowingly. Iona was the only one who knew that you were proficient in short swords since you both would spar at odd times for practice and learning new moves.

“Quiet and standard weren’t getting me anywhere, so now its time to really show the quadrant who I am.” You tease back to your squad mates.

“You’re certainly showing the quadrant something in those leathers.” Cain says from behind you. 

You turn around and watch as the only third year in your squad looks at you up and down appraisingly. You give him your best seductive smile before you turn your attention back towards the front of the dais. 

As you look up, you can see Xaden looking you over from where the wingleaders are standing on the dais. You raise your chin high and hold yourself still under his scrutiny. But you’re rewarded when you realize he can’t seem to stop from appraising you either. Before you know it, formation is over, and you are walking in between your squad mates to your first class. 

Before you make it to the door, you spot Bodhi standing in the hallway further down waiting at the door of the next classroom. You watch as his body goes taut as a bow string as you get closer to him, but he isn’t looking at you. No, he’s looking at the others that are still staring at you appreciatively. You watch as his hands clench into fists so hard his knuckles turn white and threaten to tear from the hold he has them in across his chest. 

“Is there a reason Durran is looking like he’s going to murder the entire quadrant?” Iona whispers in your ear. 

You look back at her with a delighted smirk on your face before replying. “It’s probably because he and I are no longer a thing.”

Iona pulls back and looks at you with raised brows. “When did that happen? And what happened?”

“He had some choice words for his cousin that I overheard.” You converse nonchalantly. “They weren’t something that you would say if you really were interested in someone.”

You left it like that as you walked towards the doorway of your classroom. But before you entered, you took one last look at Bodhi who was now staring directly at you. The conflict in his eyes was palpable. You could see that he was at war with himself on whether to come up to you. Fortunately, before you would have to make the decision to talk to him or not, Nico came up behind you and slung his arm on your lower back leading you into the classroom.

You looked up at him and gave him a wide, knowing smile. He had obviously heard what you had told Iona. 

“Just making sure you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.” He whispers in your ear as you both walk through the doorway and take your seats.

It’s been days since you’ve been wearing your new leathers and swords and it was as if you had just entered the quadrant. Everywhere you turned, there was someone you’d never spoken to trying to get your attention. It wasn’t all good though, some of the comments you heard directly challenged your competency and if the swords at your back were real or not. Some were convinced a ‘girl like you’ would never be able to wield swords like that in a challenge.

But of all the attention you received, both good and bad, the one you enjoyed playing with the most was Bodhi. Watching him squirm as you talked to other guys and even some of the girls gave you more pleasure than you cared to admit to yourself.

Deep down though, you knew it wouldn’t ever go to more than friendly flirting. You weren’t in the business of breaking hearts or giving someone too much hope where there was none. You weren’t going to let someone get their heart broken by you, like what Bodhi had done to you. 

Realizing that things weren’t going to change overnight, you decided that you needed a little flight practice for some fresh air. You had been practicing with Ezzonth on different dismounts since your flight lessons with your squad seemed just boring drills for the both of you.  Skipping dinner sometimes and going to the kitchens later meant you could fly while it was still light and enjoy the freedom without being hampered by others in your class. 

‘Ready to try the rolling dismount again?’ You questioned Ezzonth.

Without directly replying, you felt as Ezzonth began to accelerate and angle for the perfect advantage to dismount. You got up from your seat and steadily made your way to Ezzonth’s shoulder, as you saw the ground rush in towards you, you jumped. As you felt yourself tumble down her leg, you braced yourself to keep running forward. 

When your feet hit the ground, you felt yourself accelerate before very slowly coming to a stop several meters from where you originally landed. You closed your eyes, tilting your head up and taking a deep breath while a self-satisfied smile stole across your face.

“You should come show the third years how its done.” You hear a deep voice call out from behind you. 

You turn quickly and bring your hands to your swords.

“Woah, woah. No need for weapons, I was just trying to give you a compliment.” The deep voice rumbles with a slight chuckle. 

You finally take the time to register the person in front of you. There’s no mistaking the dark hair and hazel eyes of the immensely muscular man in front of you, Garrick. 

You give him a sarcastic smile back and turn to walk away from the Section Leader.

“Oh, come on, not even anything snarky to say back?” He continues to tease you. 

“Nothing in particular to say to you, Section Leader.” You snap.

“No, is it all of us Rebellion kids or just Bodhi you’re icing out?”

You completely stop in your tracks, the rush of blood filling your ears as your fury rises. Why should you be blamed when you were the one that was made to be a fool by them?

‘Ezzonth.’ You bite out to your dragon.

‘Coming, Gentle One.’ She replies.

You stand there rooted to the ground and glare at the Section Leader in front of you, trying to get your anger to an acceptable level. Once you feel slightly in control of yourself, you step up to the hulking Section Leader.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Garrick.” You spit bitterly at him. “But when you hear people say you aren’t worth anyone’s time and you’re just a pretty thing to bed, you tend to shut people out. If you don’t believe me, just go ask your boss and his cousin.”

As if perfectly on cue, you hear the wingbeats of your dragon above your head. You continue to watch Garrick as his brows furrow in confusion at your words. With a practiced maneuver, you sling your shield in a rope around Ezzonth’s neck as he begins to ascend. Eventually you are yanked from the spot in front of the Section Leader and to your dragon’s back. 

‘Hold your ears, Ezzonth.’ You demand.

As soon as you are far enough from the flight field, you let out a frustrated scream into the air at the absolute rage that boils inside of you. You can’t help the indignance that laces your veins at the feeling these men think you are something to be toyed with.

You spend the rest of the night in a cave on one of the snow-covered peaks not far from Basgiath. Ezzonth curled up in front of the entrance as you sit back in the cold cavern and try to get your thoughts together. 

You thought you’d pushed past the harsh words the Wingleader and Bodhi had said, but after that display you know that you have obviously not. 

Soon enough, you are watching the sun rise past the scales of your dragon. You try to let the peace of the cavern settle you as you take several deep breaths.

‘Let’s get back to Basgiath.’ You say softly to Ezzonth, hoping that your dragon knows how grateful you are for her.

As you move towards her leg, she brings her head down and knocks you with her maw. You give her a gentle smile and hug her nose.

‘Thank you for everything.’ You whisper quietly knowing there is no way to possibly convey what you mean with just words. 

‘You are mine, Gentle One. You are my priority.’ Warmth spreads through your chest at Ezzonth’s words. 

As you land back on the flight field and head towards the tunnel to get back to the main campus, you feel the sensation that someone else is there.

You summon a mage light, and your eyes blow wide at the sight in front of you. There’s an infantry cadet that has a rider in their grasp, but their head is covered by a black bag. The only thing you can tell is that the body is female.

Without thinking too much about it, you unsheathe the two swords strapped to your back and brace into a fighting stance.

“Drop her.” You command with a lethal edge. “I’ll only give you one chance.”

The infantry cadet laughs seeming to think that his larger size will be enough to overpower you. You’re ready for him though when he goes to attack after dropping the rider to the ground. 

You let him walk towards you so that whoever that is won’t get caught in the crossfire between the two of you. The guy lunges towards your right side, which is a mistake on his part. As he tries to grab for the sword in your right hand, you drag your left hand up the side of his leg. He hisses in pain as a gash is left down the side of his calf, you know this isn’t a mortal blow, but it will sting and unsteady his stance. 

With a frustrated growl he unsheathes a long sword and tries to swing across your neck. You’re waiting for the move and parry his strike by bringing both swords to your left. With his sword stuck in between yours, you lever it and knock his from his hands. Without stopping, you twist yourself around and slice him through the back. 

Unfortunately, the death blow doesn’t stop him as he grabs a dagger and slices down your upper arm. However, as you push him off your blade, you know that he only has mere moments. You close your eyes as the heavy iron scent of blood fills your lungs, along with the same lead feeling you get any time you have taken a life.

‘You did what was necessary.’ Ezzonth confirms in your mind. 

You let yourself have a second as a wave of nausea roils through your system. After you’ve taken several deep breaths, you walk over to the rider that is lying on the floor and hasn’t flinched throughout the whole fight. 

You slowly drop to your knees in front of the girl and take off the bag that was obscuring her face. Your eyes blow wide as you stare down at the girl in front of you.

Imogen.

Her face is bruised, and she is clearly unconscious, but from what exactly, you are unsure. You take a fortifying breath before you squat down and pull both of her arms around your neck, careful to avoid the hilts of your swords. You slowly rise to your feet with the extra weight that is now on your back and slowly make your way through the rest of the flight tunnel.

As you come close to the entrance, you turn to your right and slide Imogen to the floor. Swiping your fingers across a craggy rock, another click sounds and you push the large stone open. You drop down to pick up Imogen again and begin walking down the path to the healers quadrant. 

No one else knew that you were aware of all these passages. Your signet had become a way for you to sneak around undetected from others since you could shield your entire person. You bent down and picked up Imogen again and cloaked yourself in a shield just in case there was anyone lurking around. As much as you were angry at Imogen for her nasty comments, you were never going to let anyone die innocently.

As soon as you walk into the healers, everyone stops and turns to you. You can only imagine how you look. You huff a laugh to yourself and can imagine the purple smudges under your eyes from not sleeping, the blood that is all over you, swords strapped to your back, hair mussed from lack of sleep, flight and fighting. You are a mess. 

“What happened?” a healer asks sprinting towards you with two other men coming to take Imogen from you. 

“I’m not sure. She was unconscious when I found her and her head was covered.” You retold leaving out some details. 

Unsure of exactly what happened, you knew that the fewer details, the better for both of you.

The healer looked at you and then pointed to your slashed upper arm with a questioning look. 

“This is just a scratch from trying to get her here.” You say as convincingly as you can. 

You can tell that the healer is skeptical of your reasoning, but she just nods and points you over to one of the free beds. 

As you sit there waiting to be tended to, you can’t help the way your mind questions why Imogen would’ve been caught by an infantry cadet in the first place. 

What could she have possibly been doing?

You knew it couldn’t have been an RSC issue because she was alone and so was the infantry guy. You shook your head trying to come up with an excuse but kept coming up blank. 

Soon enough, a healer cadet asked you to take off your flight jacket and helped to clean and stitch the wound on your upper arm. You asked about Imogen and the healers confirmed that she would be fine and just needed a little more time to sleep off whatever had her unconscious. 

Wishing them a thank you for tending to the both of you, you put your swords back on your back and threw your jacket over your uninjured arm. Beginning the walk back to the quadrant, you wondered if you should find one of her marked friends and let them know what happened. 

As if the gods were answering your own question, the minute you walked into the rotunda of the riders quadrant, there were Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi. 

Gods, do those three do anything without each other? 

You can’t help the question that pops to your mind. With all the calm you can muster, you push your own feelings about them down and head towards the three. Garrick notices you first and you watch as he jerks his head towards you alerting the other two of your presence. 

You watch as Bodhi’s eyes slightly widen and dart between your face and bandaged arm. 

“Are you-“ Bodhi begins, but you cut him off before he can finish.

“I thought you three would like to know I just brought Imogen to the healers quadrant.” You say with a tired sigh.

You watch as all three of them tense. Xaden and Garrick are looking at you with a hint of suspicion in their gaze and Bodhi looks like he is going to try to step between the three. Before they can get riled up anymore, you continue.

“She was being dragged somewhere by a guy in the Infantry. Her head was covered in a black sack, and she was unconscious.” You explain. “I challenged the guy, and he dropped her. I killed him and brought her to the healers. She’s fine and resting there now, in case any of you want to check on her.”

You immediately turn to walk away having done what you thought was right by letting them know where their friend was. Unfortunately, before you could walk away, you felt someone’s hand pull back on your injured arm. 

You let out a hiss and turned back to the group to see Xaden’s hand around your forearm. 

“You mean to tell me that you just happened to walk up, and some guy was just standing there with her limp form?” Xaden asks with disbelief in his voice.

You turn to face him fully and forcefully pull your hand back from his grasp. You look at your wingleader with a steely glare.

“Yes. I did.” You hiss back through grit teeth. “Unlike some people, I believe everyone is worth the effort.”

You let out the last few words slowly so that he can understand your meaning. You’re rewarded as you watch his eyes slightly widen and look down at you. Without waiting for him to say anything else, you back up a few additional steps. As he goes to follow you and most likely ask you more questions, you stop.  

“With all due respect, Wingleader.” You hiss maliciously, spitting his title as if an insult. “Fuck. Off.”

You give your back to the three men and forcefully walk yourself back towards the dormitories. By the time you make it to your room, all you can think to do is drop to your bed for some much-needed sleep. Regrettably, you barely get your swords off your back and boots off before there is a knock at your door. 

You take a deep annoyed breath and shuffle to the door. As you look back at the visitor, you don’t hold back the annoyance in your face. 

“What do you want Bodhi?” You hum agitatedly. 

“Can I talk to you?” Bodhi asks quietly.

Tired enough not to care, you just open the door slightly while gesturing for him to come in. As soon as the door is closed, you continue to let yourself get comfortable in your own room. Good decisions have apparently left your head as you pull your shirt over your head in order to change into something more comfortable. You let the excuses turn in your head as Bodhi’s already seen you undressed before, so with the tiredness dragging down your body, you just keep going. 

As you turn around, you tug a large shirt over yourself before beginning to unbutton your pants. When you take a second to look up, you realize maybe this wasn’t your best idea. Bodhi is stuck absolutely still watching you. You can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly.

“Sorry.” You mutter and go to sit down on the chair by your desk. “What do you want to say Bodhi? I’m exhausted.”

Your words seem to crack the trance that he had fallen into and before you blink, he’s moving towards you and kneeling next to your side. 

“Are you okay?” He questions as he slides his hand gently over the bandage on your arm. 

“I’ve had worse by the girl that I dragged to the infirmary, so yes, I’m fine.” You huff. 

Why this man thinks he can mother hen you all of a sudden is beyond your comprehension?

“Is that what you needed to talk to me about?” You ask beginning to get sleepier by the minute, letting your eyes shut as your head lulls back.

He doesn’t respond to you immediately. After a few more moments, you feel as his hand ghosts across your cheek. You flutter your eyes open and realize that he’s now standing in front of you and looking down at you with concern. You cock your eyebrow in question and move your hand up to his to knock his away from your face.

At the gesture, his face falls and his eyes turn sad. 

“I know that you heard what Xaden and I spoke about that night and I’m sorry.” He says as he goes to kneel in front of you.

“I will never be able to take those words back and I certainly won’t be able to make excuses for what my cousin said.” He takes the hand of your injured arm while tilting your chin up to look him in the eyes.

“I just need you to know that what I said was a lie.” Bodhi drops his face in defeat, and you can’t honestly tell if you believe him. 

“Why would I believe that you would lie to your own cousin?” You snark defensively. 

He draws his head back and looks you in the eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact that you knew Bodhi’s facial features so well, you would think he was a brilliant actor. But you could see the hurt awash in his eyes and the certain way that he held his head whenever he was trying to convey a truth. 

“Because the bastard thinks that caring about anyone more than who we have is a danger. He thinks that you’ll be a liability to me if I care about you more than what he thinks I should.” He tries to explain.

“And regrettably, the thing is, he’s right.” You scoff indignantly at Bodhi’s words. 

You can’t help the way your eyes roll in response to Bodhi’s words. How can he say that you’re a liability to him if you’re just a convenient addition to keep his bed warm? Before you can open your mouth to voice your opinion of his cousin’s ideals, he’s pulling you to your feet. 

You look back at him with annoyed eyes as he grabs your face with both of his hands. Your tired mind and body betray you and calm at the feel of his calloused hands on your face. 

“You matter more to me than anything or anyone else in this gods forsaken thing we call a school. Or even in my life.” He declares as one of his hands drops from your face and wraps around your waist. 

“I’m absolutely terrified every minute of my life when I can’t see you or know that you’re safe.” He continues as his other hand falls to the back of your neck and his thumb caresses behind your ear. 

“Ever since I met you, I haven’t been able to stand one day without seeing your face, your smile, the way your eyes twinkle in the sunlight and the moonlight. You’re the first thought I have in the morning and the last thought I have at night.” His hand continues to tighten across your waist. 

“I thought I was going to die when Imogen’s blade went through your side. I sat there and I could’ve killed her right then and there for hurting you even a little. I’ve never felt a rage and panic as pure as that moment.” He’s now pulling your entire body even closer until there isn’t any space between you. 

“I was close to setting the entire college on fire when you showed up in formation in those leathers. They hugged every beautiful curve and showed the entire quadrant the absolutely gorgeous body that you had hidden from everyone else. And on top of that, you looked like the goddess of death with those swords strapped to your back, daring anyone and everyone to challenge how deadly you could be.” He drops his head and rests his forehead against yours.

“But the most devastating thought I’ve had was that I could possibly lose you because of my own stupidity. Of course, I never thought you would hear my conversation with Xaden, but I should never had lied to him.” Your both now just a breath away from each other. 

“You’re not a clueless girl. You’re the love of my fucking life. The woman that haunts my thoughts day and night.” He whispers against your lips. “And I’m asking. No. I’m begging you to forgive me. Please. Let me make it up to you.”

You lift your eyes to Bodhi’s and search for any hint of a lie, but all you see is the fire of conviction in his eyes. 

“If I give you another chance,” You breathe, unable to raise the volume of your voice any louder. “You’re going to be working to make up for your mistakes for a very long time.”

“I’ll be begging for your forgiveness on my knees for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me.” He states back with pure conviction lacing every word. 

“I expect you to have some choice words for that cousin of yours as well.” You say pointedly to the man that can clearly sweep you off your feet. 

“I’ll have all the words to tell him he’s an asshole and to back off, and you’re coming with me when I tell him.” He states and looks into your eyes. “I want you to know how serious I am.”

You can’t help but continue to study the man that has you in a vice grip. You can feel the way his fingers are digging into your waist and the back of your neck as if any minute you will run away or disappear. 

“Please tell me you’ll give me another chance. I promise you won’t regret it.” He begs. 

“If I hurt you again, you can have Ezzonth burn me to a cris-“He continues before you cut him off by bringing your lips to his. 

For a moment you wonder if he really meant what he was saying as he doesn’t respond, but after a few seconds, his hands move to your face. His large palms cover your cheeks and squeeze as he kisses you with a fervor that you’ve never felt before.

He hands then move to your thighs and he taps the back in direction for you to wrap them around his waist. You jump slightly and you continue to explore his mouth as he moves towards the door. In another moment you are slammed against the back of the door as you continue to exchange desperate kisses. He swipes his tongue against the bottom of your lips in request and you open your mouth for him. 

Your body responds immediately arching into him as you continue to tangle with tounges and teeth. He nips at your lower lip as you feel a smile break across his face. He draws back slightly and leans his forehead against yours again as you both try to calm your heaving breaths. 

“Gods, I fucking missed your mouth.” He says, punctuating it with a kiss. 

You snicker at him. “You better behave Durran, or you’re going to find yourself missing it for good.” You can’t help but tease him. 

His face turns serious again as he slowly lowers you back to the ground. His hand goes to your jaw and leans your head to look at him. 

“I don’t know how many times I will have to tell you, but I’ll do it every day if you need me to. You’re it for me. You are my forever, in this plane and beyond.”

He kisses you hard and wraps you in his arms. You nuzzle your face into his neck and take a deep breath. Though you may not have a clue as to what the future holds, you know you’ll be happy as long as you’re wrapped in Bodhi’s arms. 

Taglist: @blueeclipsepaperstudent @smashee0789 @onestorytorulethemall @hawkins-2000 @fantanbietsson

[amber-laughs]

Jon and Catelyn: The Accidental Progeny

Survival

Catelyn saw the shadow slip through the open door behind him. There was a low rumble, less than a snarl, the merest whisper of a threat, but he must have heard something, because he started to turn just as the wolf made its leap. They went down together, half sprawled over Catelyn where she'd fallen. The wolf had him under the jaw. The man's shriek lasted less than a second before the beast wrenched back its head, taking out half his throat. A Game of Thrones - Catelyn III

And suddenly the corpse's weight was gone, its fingers ripped from his throat. It was all Jon could do to roll over, retching and shaking. Ghost had it again. He watched as the direwolf buried his teeth in the wight's gut and began to rip and tear.  A Game of Thrones - Jon VII

Reassurance

Her hand groped beneath her cloak, her fingers stiff and fumbling. The dagger was still at her side. She found she had to touch it now and then, to reassure herself. A Game of Thrones - Catelyn IV

He flexed the burned fingers of his sword hand. Longclaw was slung to his saddle, the carved stone wolf's-head pommel and soft leather grip of the great bastard sword within easy reach. A Storm of Swords - Jon II

Family

His mouth tightened. "And you see fit to loose the Kingslayer. You had no right." "I had a mother's right." A Storm of Swords - Catelyn I

“You wanted a way to save your little sister and still hold fast to the honor that means so much to you, to the vows you swore before your wooden god." She pointed with a pale finger. "There he stands, Lord Snow. Arya's deliverance.” A Dance with Dragons - Melisandre I

Vengeance

"Give me Cersei Lannister, Lord Karstark, and you would see how gentle a woman can be," Catelyn replied. A Game of Thrones - Catelyn XI

"It's death and destruction I want to bring down upon House Lannister, not scorn." A Dance with Dragons - Jon II

Pain

When Loras Tyrell unhorsed him, many of us became a trifle poorer. Ser Jaime lost a hundred golden dragons, the queen lost an emerald pendant, and I lost my knife. Her Grace got the emerald back, but the winner kept the rest." "Who?" Catelyn demanded, her mouth dry with fear. Her fingers ached with remembered pain. A Clash of Kings - Catelyn IV

Ser Barristan had been the Old Bear's best hope, Jon remembered; if he had fallen, what chance was there that Mormont's letter would be heeded? He curled his hand into a fist. Pain shot through his burned fingers. "What of my sisters?" A Game of Thrones - Jon VIII

Intuition

"Robb." She stopped and held his arm. "I told you once to keep Theon Greyjoy close, and you did not listen. Listen now. Send this man away. I am not saying you must banish him. Find some task that requires a man of courage, some honorable duty, what it is matters not… but do not keep him near you."  A Storm of Swords - Catelyn II

All of a man's crimes were wiped away when he took the black, and all of his allegiances as well, yet he found it hard to think of Janos Slynt as a brother. There is blood between us. This man helped slay my father and did his best to have me killed as well. "Lord Janos." Jon sheathed his sword. "I am giving you command of Greyguard." A Dance with Dragons - Jon II

Inheritance

"That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon." "So you pray. Have you considered your sisters? What of their rights? I agree that the north must not be permitted to pass to the Imp, but what of Arya? By law, she comes after Sansa... your own sister, trueborn… " A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

I had hoped to bestow Winterfell on a northman, you may recall. A son of Eddard Stark. He threw my offer in my face." Stannis Baratheon with a grievance was like a mastiff with a bone; he gnawed it down to splinters. "By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa." A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

Peace

"Wars need not be fought until the last drop of blood." Even she could hear the desperation in her voice. "You would not be the first king to bend the knee, nor even the first Stark." […] Robb's face was cold. "Is that why you freed the Kingslayer? To make a peace with the Lannisters?" "I freed Jaime for Sansa's sake . . . and Arya's, if she still lives. You know that. But if I nurtured some hope of buying peace as well, was that so ill?" A Storm of Swords - Catelyn IV

"If it please m'lord, the lads were wondering. Will it be peace, m'lord? Or blood and iron?" "Peace," Jon Snow replied. "Three days hence, Tormund Giantsbane will lead his people through the Wall. As friends, not foes. Some may even swell our ranks, as brothers. Now back to your duties." A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

Fear

In the midst of slaughter, the Lord of the Crossing sat on his carved oaken throne, watching greedily. There was a dagger on the floor a few feet away. Perhaps it had skittered there when the Smalljon knocked the table off its trestles, or perhaps it had fallen from the hand of some dying man. Catelyn crawled toward it. Her limbs were leaden, and the taste of blood was in her mouth. A Storm of Swords - Catelyn VII

Men were screaming. Jon reached for Longclaw, but his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard. A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII

Death

"Make an end," and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she'd done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don't, don't cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold. A Storm of Swords - Catelyn VII

Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold… A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII

Resurrection

“Sometimes she felt as though her heart had turned to stone.” A Game of Thrones - Catelyn VI

“Instead, he blamed Jon Snow and wondered when Jon's heart had turned to stone.” A Feast for Crows - Samwell III

[kckt88]

Ashes.

Summary:

Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Upset, Dark Aemond, Reference to Sex, Mild Violence, Madness, Referenced Deaths, Character Death.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x DAELLA (DAERON TWIN SISTER)

Word Count: 3060.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

"Aemond-" implored Daella, her voice tinged with desperation, "-How many more innocent lives must perish? Our family already lies shattered, broken by the flames of war, and yet you seek to continue this madness."

Aemond turned to face her, his features hardened by resolve. "The Targaryen legacy must endure, Daella-" he declared, his voice unwavering.

Daella shook her head in dismay, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "But at what cost? Aegon, Helaena, all of their children and Daeron have been lost to the chaos of the Dance of Dragons. We are all that’s left of mother’s children-must we subject her to more pain and suffering“

Aemond's jaw tightened, his grip on the hilt of Dark Sister growing ever tighter. "I will not falter now, not when victory is within my grasp." he insisted, his voice laced with bitterness.

Daella took a step closer, her gaze piercing through the darkness. "Victory?" she echoed, her voice trembling with disbelief. "What victory is there in the ashes of our family? Do you not see, Aemond? We are but shadows of what we once were, our house consumed by its own ambition".

"I will not back down," he declared, each word dripping with venomous resolve. "I will do whatever is necessary to ensure the survival of our house, we will rebuild the Targaryen legacy and ensure it returns to its former glory”.

“-And how exactly are you going to that-in case you hadn’t noticed the Targaryen’s are in short supply at the moment” said Daella.

“For now-but once you birth the babe you currently carry, I will wait for the sufficient amount of time for you to heal and then I will get you with child again-“

“I’m not your broodmare” snapped Daella.

“You are my wife-it is your duty to provide me with as many children as I desire”,

Daella watched him, her heart heavy with despair. "Where has my sweet husband gone?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the echoes of his fervent proclamation. "You’re not the Aemond I know. You’ve changed and not for the better”

But Aemond paid her words no heed, his mind consumed by thoughts of retribution.

In his eye burned the fires of vengeance, casting shadows across the once noble features that now seemed twisted by the weight of his pursuit of power.

Daella's heart ached as she reached out to gently grasp Aemond's hand, her touch a silent plea for him to listen, to remember the love they once shared amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

With trembling lips, she spoke words heavy with emotion, her voice barely above a whisper yet filled with desperation.

"Aemond, what of our child that I carry," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. "-Please let us leave this place, just you and me. We can raise our child away from this war, away from all the death."

Her words hung in the air, a fragile hope clinging to the shadows of the throne room.

But Aemond's gaze remained cold and unyielding, his hand tightening around hers with a grip that spoke of determination rather than tenderness.

"We cannot flee, Daella," he declared, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. "Our enemies must be vanquished. I will not rest until all who oppose us are dead".

Daella recoiled at his words, her heart breaking with each syllable that fell from his lips. "But at what cost, Aemond?" she pleaded, her voice trembling with anguish. "Do you not see the madness that consumes you? Our child deserves better than a life steeped in bloodshed and revenge."

But Aemond remained unmoved, his eye blazing with a fervour that chilled her to the core. "I will do what must be done," he vowed, his words a solemn oath that echoed through the empty halls of the Red Keep.

“-And what is that supposed to mean?” asked Daella as she ran a hand over her round stomach.

"You have no idea the sacrifices I have made," he spat, each word laced with bitterness. "You do not understand what I have endured, what I have done to take the crown-"

Daella recoiled at the intensity of his words, her heart heavy with sorrow and disbelief. And then, as realization dawned upon her like a bolt of lightning.

"It was you wasn’t it, you killed Aegon," she accused, her voice trembling with accusation. "You murdered our brother."

Aemond's expression remained stoic, his features hardened by the weight of his confession. "It was a mercy killing," he declared, his voice devoid of remorse. "Sunfyre was badly damaged after the fight with Meleys at Rooks Rest and Aegon severely injured, his bones twisted and broken, his armour melted onto his skin”.

“S-So you just took it upon yourself to kill him-he was our brother, our King” said Daella.

“It was a kindness to put him out of his misery” replied Aemond.

“You say that it was Meleys who injured Aegon, but how do I know that it wasn’t really you. Three dragons took to the skies that day and only one survived. Awfully convenient isn’t it-the lone survivor able to spin any tale he likes”.

“-I survived, Aegon didn’t what more is there to say” said Aemond.

His words struck Daella like a physical blow, leaving her reeling with shock and revulsion.

The man she had once loved, the father of her unborn child, stood before her as a stranger, a cold and calculating figure consumed by his own ambition.

Horrified by the depths of darkness that now lurked within him, Daella could only stare in silent disbelief, her heart breaking with each passing moment as she realized the true extent of the monster her husband had become.

Daella's voice trembled with a mixture of fear and resolve as she met Aemond's gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Aemond-you're breaking my heart-" she whispered, her words a desperate plea for him to see reason, to turn away from the darkness that threatened to consume him.

But Aemond's response was not one of understanding or compassion.

Instead, his features contorted with rage, his eye wild with madness as he reached out to grasp the back of her neck with a vice-like grip.

"Our mother turned against me," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Don't you turn against me."

Daella's breath caught in her throat as she felt his fingers tighten around her neck, the threat of violence hanging heavy in the air.

She stared into his eye, once so full of warmth and affection, now clouded by a darkness she could scarcely comprehend.

“A-Aemond” gasped Daella.

“I killed Lucerys, I chased him and his pathetic mouse of a dragon through the skies above Storms End-I watched as Vhagar tore him and his little dragon to shreds-“

“Y-You told me it was an accident” said Daella.

“I told you only what you wanted to hear, my sweet wife pacified by my false words of remorse and my cock-fucked you good that night didn't I-Do you remember how ravenous I was, how I made you peak over and over, my desire for you was unrestrained” exclaimed Aemond smirking.

“J-Jaehaerys. He was killed because of what you did-it’s your fault he’s dead, our sweet sister lost to madness after what she witnessed after what they made her do-she took her own life”.

"I killed Daemon-this you know" declared Aemond, his words dripping with cold satisfaction. "-I struck down the once great Rogue Prince along with his dragon, their bodies left to rot in the waters of the Gods Eye and I would do it again without hesitation."

The air seemed to grow thick with the weight of his words, and the shadows that danced across the walls of the chamber seemed to whisper of the darkness that lurked within his soul.

"My spies on Dragonstone have informed that word of Daemon's death has reached our half-sister-" he spat, his eyes ablaze with fury. "-And that wretched whore has fled across the Narrow Sea with her only surviving son."

Daella recoiled at the venom in his words, her heart heavy with sorrow at the thought of their family torn asunder by treachery and bloodshed.

"W-What will you do?”

Aemond's laugh was cold and mirthless, sending shivers down her spine. "I will hunt them down, no matter where they hide. There is no place they can run, no sanctuary they can find, that will protect them from my wrath- "

Daella's heart sank at his words, the realization dawning upon her that there was no reasoning with the darkness that threatened to consume him.

Tears welled in Daella's amethyst eyes as she pleaded with Aemond, her voice trembling with desperation and love, as she reached out to him.

"Please-" begged Daella; her words choked with emotion. "-Don’t do this“

“I will extinguish our half-sister’s line once and for all”.

“Aemond-you’re going down a path I can't follow” exclaimed Daella.

“-ābrazȳrys” growled Aemond (Wife).

“-Because of what you've done, what you plan to do, I beg you to stop this madness. I love you Valzȳrys " (Husband).

Her hand trembled as she ran her fingers through his long silver hair, seeking to soothe the storm raging within him, to bring him back from the edge of darkness that threatened to consume him.

But Aemond's singular eye remained wild, his expression twisted with a madness that sent shivers down her spine.

"There is no turning back," declared Aemond, his voice a harsh rasp that echoed through the chamber. "I will not rest until our enemies are vanquished, and justice is served."

Daella recoiled at the coldness in his tone, the distance that had grown between them, until she felt as though she no longer knew the man standing before her.

The realization of his descent into madness struck her like a physical blow, leaving her heartbroken and afraid.

As she stared into his eye, searching for some trace of the man she loved, but she knew that she could no longer reach him, that the darkness that consumed him was now beyond her grasp.

Daella's voice trembled with fear as she spoke, her heart heavy with the weight of the truth she could no longer deny. "I'm frightened, Aemond," she confessed, her words barely above a whisper. "Frightened of what you've become, of the darkness that consumes you."

Aemond's expression softened at her words, a flicker of something resembling remorse crossing his features as he pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in a tight embrace, the roundness of her stomach pressed against him.

"I know, my love," he murmured, his voice a gentle reassurance amidst the turmoil that surrounded them. "But together, we will conquer our fears. Together, we will rise above the chaos that has plagued our family for many years"

Daella clung to him, her heart aching with the hope that his words might hold some shred of truth, that the man she loved might still be buried somewhere beneath the layers of ambition and madness.

"But how, Aemond?" she whispered, her voice filled with uncertainty. "How can we find our way back from this darkness?"

Aemond's grip tightened around her, his fingers digging into her back.

"Once Rhaenyra and her last remaining child are dead," declared Aemond, his voice low and menacing, "Then together, we will rule the Seven Kingdoms as King and Queen. Our wastrel of a brother wasn't fit to rule, and neither is Rhaenyra."

"What of those who supported Rhaenyra?" asked Daella, her words barely audible above the hushed whispers of the shadows that surrounded them.

Aemond's gaze hardened at the question, his jaw set in a grim line as he met her gaze with a chilling resolve. "They will have a choice," he replied, his voice cold and unforgiving. "They will either bow to me and acknowledge me as their King, or they will face the consequences."

Daella recoiled at the cruelty in his words, the brutality that lurked behind his steely exterior. "But Aemond-" she protested, her voice tinged with desperation, "-Surely there must be another way. The realm cannot be subjected to another war-Vhagar and Vermithor are the only remaining dragons that have riders, and I am due to birth our child very soon”.

Aemond's grip tightened around her, his eye blazing with a fervour that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Every single one who opposes me will suffer," he declared, his voice echoing through the chamber with a chilling finality. "There can be no mercy for those who dare to stand against the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."

Daella's heart sank at his words, the weight of his ruthless ambition pressing down upon her like a leaden weight.

In that moment, she knew that the man she had once loved was gone, replaced by a tyrant consumed by his own thirst for power.

Daella's voice trembled with resolve as she drew back from Aemond's embrace, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. "I'll have no part in your anger and lust for power," she declared, her words ringing with a quiet strength that belied the fear that gnawed at her heart.

Aemond's expression darkened at her defiance, his features contorted with rage as he reached out to grasp her arm, his grip like iron.

"You cannot walk away from this, Daella," growled Aemond, his voice a low warning that sent a shiver down her spine. "You are MY wife, and you will stand by my side."

But Daella stood her ground, her gaze unwavering as she met his with a steely resolve of her own. "I cannot stand by while you destroy everything-” she insisted, her voice firm despite the tremor that betrayed her inner turmoil. "I will not be complicit in your madness."

Aemond's grip tightened around Daella's arm as she attempted to pull away, his fingers digging into her skin with a bruising intensity.

"You will not leave me," hissed Aemond, his voice a low, menacing growl that reverberated through the chamber. "You belong to me, Daella. YOU ARE MINE!!."

Daella recoiled at the possessiveness in his tone, the fear that clawed at her heart as she stared into his eyes, now darkened by the depths of his rage and desperation.

"Let me go, Aemond," pleaded Daella, her voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and fear. "I cannot stay here with you, not like this."

But Aemond's grip only tightened further, his eyes ablaze with a fervour that bordered on madness. "If you dare leave me," he snarled, his voice laced with a chilling threat, "I will rip the world apart until I find you. There will be no place you can hide, no sanctuary you can seek, that will protect you from me-"

“Stop-“ begged Daella.

“I will kill you before I let you leave me” snarled Aemond.

Daella looked at her husband and knew he was serious, never before had he threatened her in such a manner and now as she stood before him, there was only one option left to her-

Despite the fear coursing through her veins, Daella leaned forward and pressed her lips against Aemond's, her kiss filled with a mixture of desperation and determination.

For a fleeting moment, she lost herself in the embrace, her mind racing with the knowledge that this might be her only chance to escape the darkness that threatened to consume them both, to do what she must in order to protect her child.

As Aemond's lips met hers, his grip on her arm momentarily loosened, allowing her to discreetly withdraw the dagger from his belt.

With a surge of adrenaline, she plunged the blade into his chest, her hand steady despite the tremors that shook her to the core.

Aemond pulled away from the kiss, his eye widening in shock as he looked down at the dagger embedded in his chest, the hilt stained crimson with his own blood.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of Daella's ragged breaths as she watched him with a mixture of horror and relief.

With a choked gasp, Aemond stumbled backward, landing on the stone floor with a heavy thud, his hand clutching at the dagger protruding from his chest.

Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his green doublet, his gaze fixed on Daella with a mixture of betrayal and disbelief.

With tears streaming down her face, Daella knelt beside Aemond, wrapping her arms around him as he gasped for breath, his life slipping away with each ragged breath.

"I'm sorry," she whispered through choked sobs, her voice breaking with the weight of her anguish. "I can't let you hurt anyone else. The realm cannot be ruled by a tyrant."

Aemond's eye met hers, filled with a mixture of pain and regret, as he struggled to speak. "Daella," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, "Forgive me-"

Daella leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, her heart breaking as she felt the warmth of his life fading beneath her touch. "I forgive you," she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow and love.

As Aemond's breaths grew shallower, his eye fluttered closed, his body growing limp in her arms.

With a heavy heart, Daella held him close, cradling him as his life slipped away, leaving behind only the echoes of a once great and powerful man.

And as she laid him gently on the cold stone floor, the black crown of the Conqueror resting beside his lifeless form, Daella knew that she had done what was necessary to save the realm from the darkness that had threatened to consume it.

Suddenly, a shuffling sound behind her caught her attention, and she turned to see her mother, bending down to pick up the Conqueror's crown from where it lay beside Aemond's body.

Daella watched in silence, her heart heavy with uncertainty, as her mother approached her, the weight of their shared loss hanging heavy in the air between them.

"M-Mother"

"It was necessary-you did what you had too" muttered Alicent softly as she stared at the lifeless body of her second son.

Her darks eyes lingering on the dagger still buried in Aemond's chest, an odd mixture of sorrow and relied etched upon her face.

"What are we going to do now?" Daella whispered, her voice barely above a whisper, as Alicent turned away from Aemond and held out her hand to her daughter, her last remaining child.

Alicent's expression softened as she took Daella's hand in hers, her touch gentle yet firm as she helped her daughter to stand.

With a solemn grace, she placed the crown of the Conqueror upon Daella's head, the weight of its significance settling upon her.

"Now-" Alicent said, her voice steady and reassuring, "-You will rule".

The End.

[inuhalfdemon]

No One Can Know... (4/?)

Word Count: 2,270

Chapter 4

"Meet me on your best behavior, meet me at your worst…" - Death Cab for Cutie

Wondering who-the-fuck-in-Hell would be there knocking this late at night; Lucifer opened his door. Seeing that it was, in fact, Alastor standing at his threshold with a seemingly pleasant smile across his face; Lucifer immediately bristled.

“What in fuck’s – wait. Is that wine?” Lucifer peered behind Alastor’s waist; seeing his separated shadow clasping a large bottle of Riesling and a pair of wine glasses.

“Yes. I thought it might pair well with our…discussions. May I?” Alastor asked him, politely.

“…yeah, ok.” Lucifer stepped aside; letting him in.

Alastor stepped inside; his shadow following close behind. The shadow paused briefly beside Lucifer; offering him the bottle. Lucifer took it, and the shadow swept further inward to be closer to Alastor. Looking at the label; Lucifer closed the door.

“Where in Hell did you get this!?”

“I don’t just deal in souls; your grace.” Alastor told him. “And I’m rather partial to a rare vintage every now and again. This one has been made ready for us to enjoy.”

“No shit. Damn.” Lucifer led him to a small suite; directing him and his shadow to some plush chairs and an ornate table for them to recline by. There were less rubber ducks and circus trinkets scattered throughout here than were piled in his work-room. Alastor didn’t seem to pay much attention to the surrounding room though; his gaze never straying across items, walls, furniture, etc. He was very focused on his business here.

Alastor’s shadow; taking the bottle from Lucifer – opened it and began pouring wine into the two glasses. Alastor and Lucifer both sat down. Lucifer reached across for his wine glass; then leaning back he asked:

“So…what the fuck do you want to talk about?”

“I’m sure you are well aware of the subject matter that I wish to address with you tonight.” Alastor said; taking his own glass from the table and gently swirling the liquid. His shadow excused itself into a dark corner nearby.

“Hm…how forthright of you. You seem to be in a more…agreeable…mood tonight than you were yesterday.”

“The extermination is merely a couple months away…I had hoped that I might avoid having to address my…“rut” until sometime after, but I’m afraid that won’t be the case.” Alastor explained. “I’d like to discuss the best…approach to the problem; if you are so inclined.”

“Uh, huh.” Lucifer said dismissively. “So, what exactly are we discussing then?”

“I’m afraid that the effects of the cycle will greatly influence my duties in safeguarding Charlie and the hotel. During that time, I won’t be getting much sleep and –“

“Do you actually sleep?” Lucifer interrupted, prodding him.

“Yes.” Alastor answered him honestly. “Maybe not as much as most but I do require a reasonable amount.”    

 “I must have really taken the wind out of your sails.” Lucifer tipped his glass to his lips. “I didn’t anticipate you coming here and being so candid with me.”

“Yes, well, I can admit when I’ve made an ass of myself.” Alastor allowed.

Knowing this was as close to an apology as he was liable to get; Lucifer stated: “Well, I won’t say that I’m sorry. If anything, I think I should have gutted you sooner.”

Lucifer waited for Alastor to make a quip at that but then; he said nothing. Instead, he raised his own glass to sip from – offering no comment.

Interesting.

“Ok, so I assume you are wanting to formulate some plan going forward, is that it?” Lucifer clarified.

“Indeed. Initially, I preferred the idea of you safely displacing me from the hotel until I cycled out but, the timing is not ideal. There’s too much to be done and I don’t like the idea of leaving the hotel unguarded for any extended length of time.”

“Ah, lock you away in a tower just like you’re Rapunzel and I’m the dragon.” Lucifer japed; unable to help himself.

“I don’t recall a dragon in that particular fairy tale.” Alastor remarked.

Lucifer nearly choked on his wine. “The fuck do you know about fairy tales!?”

Alastor shrugged then waved him off; “Essentially…I suppose, but it’s not a good solution; not now.”

“Oh?” Lucifer absently traced a sharp claw around the rim of his wine glass. “How long do these things usually last for you, anyway?”

“You are somewhat familiar with Cervidae demons, yes? You’ve commented on it once before. We are commonly known for our deer-like tendencies. One very prominent one being that we experience fluctuating periods of cyclic mating periods or “the rut”. There’s a lot that gets rather muddled with it though; it’s confusing even for us demons that experience it because each and every individual is different in the timing, frequency or intensity of their own personal mating cycles.”

“Sounds frustrating.” Lucifer offered.

“It…is. I never know when a rut will happen or for how long. I can usually tell when one is approaching due to certain…changes. Even now though; I know one is coming I just don’t know when. I could start the cycle tomorrow or in a couple of weeks; it’s terribly inconvenient. Judging by personal experience; my cycles range anywhere from part of a day to several weeks. Unfortunately; avoidance is what lengthens the period. If I…sate, the need and rather quickly, the period tends to be much less.”

“So what if I contact Asmodeus? I’m sure we could find you some willing participant from the lust ring to fulfill whatever needs you need satiating.” Lucifer suggested. “He might even have another Cervidae in mind.”

Alastor shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with that. I assume when you offered and agreed to our deal that it was implied that you would be the actual one to…manage this. I’m afraid now it might have to be quite literal. Lilith wasn’t wrong in saying that I’ve killed other demons during my rutting. After your explicit demonstration yesterday; I am confident you would be well equipped in governing my actions.”

 “Honestly, I meant it in whatever way you wish to take it. I’m no prude.” Lucifer shrugged; tipping his glass. “While we’re on the subject though; I’d really like to know –“

“If you are referring to my moment of sexual homicidal infamy; I’d rather not discuss it.”

Lucifer very much wanted to prod more into it; but, he could see that Alastor was making a great effort here in being professionally courteous. Which led him to his next question;

“So, what exactly is your deal with all of this?” Lucifer asked him; setting his wine glass down now. “You’re here pitching off your plans to me like we’re discussing something terribly unpleasant. I get that you might think sex is beneath you; or rather you’d prefer you didn’t need it but, c’mon…if you have to go through it anyway, why not own it and enjoy it?”

“You misunderstand. It’s not my perception of sex that has anything to do with it.” Alastor told him. “I simply don’t…care for it.”

“What?”

“Apart from when I am in rut; it holds no interest to me.”   

“None? Whatsoever, just….nothing?” Lucifer gaped at him.

“Truly.”

“So, you just can’t get it up unless you are in one of your rut thingy’s?” Lucifer was trying to make sense of this.  

“Not exactly…” Alastor huffed. “With enough effort; stimulation and finding the right mindset – sure…but, it doesn’t just happen. It’s really and truly something I don’t care to think about or pursue, otherwise.”

“I can’t…I can’t wrap my head around that. I mean I-I could fuck anything that moves. Not that I really would but, well…you know.” Lucifer shrugged.

“No…actually, I don’t.” Alastor reaffirmed.

“So, do you – do you like know what you want to actually like…do?” Lucifer asked him.

“How do you mean?” Alastor’s ears slightly leant back; whether it was him being uncomfortable by the question or a display of true confusion; Lucifer couldn’t tell.

“Mutual masturbation? Oral? Anal? What have you?” Lucifer threw out.

Alastor’s ears stiffened; pressing further back. Definitely discomfort.   

“When I’m in in rut; I’m sure anything and everything will be open and on the table.” He sighed.

“So do you like, turn into an even bigger asshole when your rutting?”

“No, not quite…that more tends to happen to the time leading up to it.” Alastor was telling him; briefly remembering his friend Rosie dismissing him from a brunch they were having in Cannibal Town once telling him: “come back after your damn rut; honestly, you’re worse than a woman!” He couldn’t remember details; only that he was terribly aggravating to her that day.

Meanwhile; Lucifer was waging an internal battle. So, you were PMS-ing yesterday? He very badly wanted to say it…he very nearly did, but he reigned it in; feeling it prudent to continue with the good footing they had established here.

“It’s more that I’m…” Alastor was continuing with his answer. “I’m just – Well, I can be a lot in those moments.”

The Radio Demon promises a good time… Lucifer thought, then he asked:

“Ok, so circling back. When or where are we going to…hash this all out?”

“I’m naturally crepuscular; and I’m generally more nocturnal in my activities. I can easily manage myself during the day. If we spend too much time at the hotel; even in my radio tower – we run the risk of being found out or discovered. If I spend too much time here or elsewhere; it leaves the hotel vulnerable. I propose we go back and forth; it won’t be so different to my normal activities – no one would think to question it at this point – and I have Niffty and Husker established so that if anything were to happen while I’m away; I’d know and can be there almost immediately.”

“Hm…yes, that might be wise. We can always tell Charlie that you and I buried the hatchet, as it were, and are meeting to discuss ideas with how best to proceed with the upcoming exterminations. She’ll wish to be included – of course – but if I tell her it’s something you and I are bonding or getting to know each other over; she’ll let it be.”   

“How…very manipulative of you.” Alastor commented; ears perking up. He was…impressed.

“Yes, well…” Lucifer reached back for his wine; lost for a moment in his thoughts. Then leaning back in his chair again; he offered:

“You’ve been very…frank with everything tonight. Do you have any questions you wish to ask me?”

“This meeting Charlie has with Heaven…do you think it will accomplish anything?” Alastor had in fact; been holding onto some questions.

“No.” Lucifer told him bluntly. “I don’t but, Lilith foresaw Charlie asking me to arrange it. I’m not…comfortable with it but Lilith will be there – Charlie won’t know that, of course – but it’s the only reason why I’d allow my daughter to go up there without my being there with her.”

“Do you think Lilith will succeed with her plans?” Alastor asked him, wanting to know. “Do you think that she can actually overthrow Heaven?”  

“If anyone; it would be her.” Lucifer finished off his glass; Alastor’s shadow quickly slid out from the corner to refill it for him. Lucifer nodded to it, taking a sip as it shifted itself back away. “She’s been planning this for some time now, making sure everything falls into just the right place at just the right time. The only hiccup we’ve ran into was you slipping yourself between the cracks but maybe that was fortunate for us – it remains to be seen.” He gave Alastor a hard look.

“If I get what I want from this, I’ll be as beneficial to your cause as I possibly can.” Alastor told him. “But, why are you choosing to do this? Weren’t you amiable toward Heaven; even after everything?”

Lucifer sighed. “Lilith has been with me through all of it…since the beginning. I’ve tried to make the amends to my mistakes; tried to make Heaven see that what we did…it wasn’t for the intentions that they thought. I’ve been fighting a losing battle for thousands upon thousands of years…Lilith stood by me; supported me all that time. Now, it’s time I stood by hers. We got nowhere with my plans and ideas for our future; so it’s time I supported hers.”

“How disgustingly devoted of you.” Alastor made a face and movement of his tongue; like he had actually tasted something terrible.

Lucifer laughed. “That’s just who we are. We depend and rely on each other.”

“So…she really has no issues with…this? What you and I are going to be doing?” Alastor asked him; wondering. “Call me ‘old fashioned’; but I’d hate to come between a man and his wife.”

“Lilith never would have agreed to it if she had reservations.” Lucifer told him. “She wasn’t lying when she told you that our relationship has been…unconventional, at times.”

“Hm…” Alastor remembered his wine and sipped from the glass.

“How long has it been for you anyway?” Lucifer asked him. “I’ll be coming out of a bit of dry spell myself; Lilith tends to get focused on other things when they’ve claimed her interest and I haven’t found much motivation in seeking out an outlet.”

“Years?” Alastor though. “Very nearly a decade, maybe.”

“Fuck.” Lucifer blurted. “You’ve got me beat then. You weren’t kidding when you said these mating cycles of yours were unpredictable.”

“Also part of the reason that I’m relying on you…specifically. I’m not sure just how…enthusiastic I might be.”

“Oh, don’t worry – my King.” Alastor fixed him with a sharp gaze. “You will know.”

“So, how will I know that you are in rut?” Lucifer questioned him.

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

Scene inspired by: @applepartysins fanart/comic here

Chapter 5

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 19

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: Hope you are ready to see our girl get angry at our boys. Garrick really needs to think before doing things sometimes. Being observant sometimes always doesn't pay off.

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

That night I don’t see Xaden, Bodhi or Garrick. I had looked everywhere and come up short. I had even asked Mealladh if their dragons were there. When she came back with she couldn’t find their dragons I knew they were off doing something. But what? The last few days had been a blur. Violet and I had nearly been assassinated. Amber was now dead because of it. I had manifested my signet. And Jeremiah…. Jeremiah had gotten his and died. Jeremiah who had read some of Garrick’s mind. Who I had sworn was about to say Aretia before Xaden cut him off with his shadows. Why had Garrick been thinking about home? Yes my thoughts occasionally went back to there. But his thoughts had been panicked. Worried he would find out about something to do with Aretia. I was sure of it. That night my dreams took me home. To Aretia.

I wake to the sun shining through my window. I groan as I shield my eyes. I had left the curtain open like an idiot. Today was a very rare weekend day first years had off. And my dumbass had left my curtains open on the one day I could sleep in. Though it was still a small win, I had gotten to sleep in longer than I normally would. As my eyes adjust I notice the small package on my bedside table and a note attached to it. Someone had been in my room while I slept. Someone had gotten past my so called bodyguard. I sit up and carefully grab the note has my heart rate picks up. But as I see the handwriting it settles. It was Garrick’s.

’Sorry I wasn’t around last night. Hope this makes it up to you. - Garrick.’

I can’t help but smile at the note. We hadn’t gotten as much time together since we’d had our talk and celebration. Both of us busy. But I knew today I would have to find him and get what time I could. I had to talk to him and Xaden about my signet and the Jeremiah thing. I had to get answers. I was still yet to tell any professors about my signet. And I couldn’t delay it for much longer. I needed to start taking Professor Carr’s class. I needed to understand my signet and learn how to control it. Though so far I seemed to have pretty good control over it.

You have amazing control over it. You should be proud. Mealladh says to me.

I just feel like it has come so easy. Too easy. I reply.

I told you I picked you for a reason. You are perfect for this signet. This is only the beginning. But you do have incredible control over it already. I am proud of you. I can feel through the bond every word she speaks is true.

She throws her shield up leaving me alone again. She must be out hunting or something. I had felt her slight hunger through the bond as we spoke. I turn back to the package from Garrick and pull it into my lap. I pull on the string he used to wrap the brown paper around it. Inside is a box. When I open the lid a huge smile breaks over my face. Inside is one of my favourite treats from back home. It wasn’t something we could easily get back home either. It was something the Gryphon Riders would trade with us only a few times a year. My eyes go wide. Wait. Only those from Poromiel knew how to make this. They’d never taught us. Only Gryphon riders brought this to us. Garrick wouldn’t know how to make this. It’s as if my mind pieces it all together. The multiple nights they have been missing. Jeremiah reading Garrick’s mind and almost saying what I swear was Aretia. And now the food that sat in the box in my lap/ I throw my sheets off me as I quickly remove my sleep attire and pull on my uniform. I grab the box before running from my room. I push past Liam who tries to stop me till he see’s the box in my hands. I swear he goes slightly pale at the sight. But I don’t have time to ask him anything. I rush to the dining hall. Garrick or Xaden nowhere to be seen. I go to the gym next. Not there. I go to head to the flight field when I see Bodhi walk out from the dinning hall. I rush over to him. He smiles as I rush over.

”Where are they?” I demand, cutting him off as he goes to say hello.

His eyebrow furrows and then he looks down to my hands and see’s the box. I watch as his skin turns pale like he’s seen a ghost. He looks back up at me as he swallows nervously. He knows I’ve put it together.

”Ophelia I-”

”Take me to them. Now.” I cut him off angrily.

Bodhi merely nods before leading me into the academic building. Towards the tower Xaden and I had found to get away from the quadrant. I can sense how nervous and scared Bodhi is. His weakness right now is the truth they’ve been hiding from me. The truth that is about to come out. And he is scared. Our steps echo off the tower walls as we ascend the stairs. My heart thuds with each step I take. What the hell was I going to say? What the hell did I want to say? They’d lied to me. Hidden something important from me. As we ascend the last few steps I push past Bodhi and throw the door open. Garrick and Xaden turn to me, shocked at my sudden appearance as Bodhi slowly joins us.

“Is everything-”

I throw the box at Garrick, cutting his sentence short. Xaden goes pale as his eyes narrow and glare at Garrick.

”Want to explain how you got that?” I hiss at the men in front of me. “And don’t you dare say you made it. Because I know you didn’t.”

They all stare at me with guilt all over their faces. Except Xaden who looks like he might actually want to kill Garrick right now.

”You’re right. I didn’t make it. You know where I got it.” Garrick says in the most monotone voice I’ve ever heard from him as he looks me in the eyes.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I want to hear you say it.” I demand.

He gulps nervously and nods slowly. “Gryphon Riders.”

I turn to Xaden. “That’s why you panicked when Jeremiah locked onto Garrick’s mind. He was going to say Aretia before you cut him off. Wasn’t he?”

He begrudgingly tears his gaze from Garrick. “Yes. We had been talking about it before he burst into the courtyard.”

”And why were you talking about Aretia? Our home? Cause last time I checked it was gone.”

I was smart enough to piece together the puzzle in front of me. But I wanted to hear it from them. I needed to hear it from them. There was a reason Xaden had seemed so similar to our father recently. But I needed to hear it from the three people I held closest to me. The only family I had left.

Garrick and Xaden look at each other and they both nod, Garrick sighing in defeat as he prepares to tell me. He steps forward and holds the box out to me. I stare at it for a moment before I take it back angrily.

”Because we’ve been smuggling weapons to them. To help them. To protect them. To build an alliance with them. We’ve been doing it as soon as we were able to get away from the quadrant without raising suspicion.” He tells me quietly, as if he’s scared I will run off.

I can feel Garrick’s presence and I reach out. I can practically hear his rapid heartbeat beat through whatever connection I can make with this signet. He’s scared as hell. Everything him and Xaden have worked towards is out in the open. I also feel the worry of him losing me over this. He’s nervous at how angry I am. Damn right he should be.

”You’re building an alliance for another rebellion aren’t you?” I ask after silence falls over us.

Xaden stares at me intently as if trying to read my thoughts. His brow furrows in confusion before he nods. “Yes.”

I shake my head before walking back and forth in front of them. They hadn’t lied to me per say, but had kept something big from me. Something they all knew I would want to be in on. Aretia was my home. And we had all believed in my father’s course of action. Because it was the right thing to do.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you keep me in the dark?” I finally ask as I lean up against the railing over looking the quadrant.

“I just wanted to protect-“

I whip around to face Xaden who had stepped forward to talk to me. “To protect me? Gods, I don’t know how many times since I have been here that I have proven I don’t need protecting anymore! I am not that little girl you said goodbye to that day in Aretia!” I yell at him as Bodhi and Garrick look at us in shock, Garrick stepping back to stand near Bodhi.

“You’re my sister. A sister I thought died all those years ago. I will not lose you again!” Xaden fumes as he storms over to me.

“But you didn’t. I spent five years with him. Spent five years fighting for my life every single day. One wrong move and he would have ended me and we both know that. Five years I played the part he wanted me to play. The small naïve Riorson daughter who didn’t know better at the time. I fought every single day to make sure I could come back to you all. So don’t you dare say to me I need fucking protecting Xaden. Because I have proven I can look after myself. I have proven I don’t need any of you to do it for me. Because I did it for myself for five years.”

Garrick and Bodhi stand behind Xaden frozen in place as we stand toe to toe. Xaden and I had never raised a voice at each other. Yes we would butt heads and say some colourful words at each other. But this was a first. Bodhi and Garrick looked torn at pulling us apart or coming to defend the girl they use to know. I was not letting them push me around and coddle me like the young girl I was. I had proven I could defend myself.

“I don’t need your bodyguard. I don’t need you to have the other marked ones keep eyes on me like I’m some fragile little girl. She died the day she left Aretia.”

“Yes she did die. She literally did for all of us five years ago. We all thought you were dead. I cannot go through that again. I won’t go through that again.” He almost pleads to me as he goes to put his hands on my shoulders. “Just let us watch-“

“No!” I yell as power surges through me.

All of a sudden we are not standing in the tower anymore over looking the quadrant and the valley surrounding. We’re standing in the courtyard of Aretia. Except it’s were not. Its not real. There’s a sheen to it as if it’s a figment of our imagination. All four of us staring at our surroundings in awe. Xaden is the first to snap out of it as he turns back to me, his eyes wide with shock. I had somehow managed to feed on our collective weakness right now. Our home. Our home was our weakness and we would all fight for it. Like we were right now. I had somehow projected it for us all to see.

“How…. How did you do that?” Xaden asks as I look back at him.

“I-I don’t know. It just kind of happened.” I say as I look around in shock.

The image of Aretia slowly fades away, putting us back in the tower. Back in the quadrant. As it does so I can feel the presence in my head that I had tugged at. Xaden. I had pulled at his presence. But I hadn’t fully felt it when I did. As if my mind had reached out with out me willing it during my out burst at Xaden.

“You need to keep that part to yourself. If the professors find out you can do that…. They might see you as innistic.” He says sternly.

I slowly nod my head. He was right. Even though we were yet to tell the Professors I had manifested my signet, revealing I could cast projections like that would definitely have them questioning me. As Xaden had always said, I had an uncanny ability to see peoples strengths and weaknesses. And now it seemed I could project on that. Make them see it. Something the higher ups would want to either cut out or use for themselves. And I’m sure Melgren would find a way to keep me for himself if he found out. Seems I could do a lot more than just will things to move with my mind.

Behind him Bodhi and Garrick are staring at me shocked. They had seen me throw someone against a wall and float things towards me. But being able to get in someone’s head and project something like that was something neither of them had expected.

“Now can you please let me in on this. Let me fight for our home again. Let me help.” I plead to Xaden. “You know my signet can help. I can help. I want to fight for my home.”

He sighs before shaking his head. Torn at if to let me help, or keep trying to protect me. “You need to get it under control first. But you are right as much as it pains me to say.”

“Xaden.” Garrick goes to start before Xaden raises a hand silencing him.

Garrick’s lips tighten into a thin line as he holds back the words he wants to say.

“I can’t let you on the supply runs. It’s too risky with a first year. Too hard to explain. Especially if Melgren is keeping an eye on you. But I can tell you what is going on. Next year I can give you more. I’ll need someone to help Bodhi here when Garrick and I have graduated.”

I can tell the words are hard for him to say. But he knows I can help. Even if it’s just being in on what’s happening, it’s better than being left in the dark. Eventually my signet could be a big help. Meaning I would need to focus as much time as I could into mastering it and strengthening it. I let out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding as my anger starts to dull.

“And no more bodyguard.” I add as I look between Garrick and Xaden. “I’ve proven I am just as good as Liam.”

Xaden goes to object as Garrick steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder. “She’s right Xaden. She doesn’t need one. She has proven she can defend herself as much as I hate to say iot. She’s not the girl we use to know. And if you ever get worried she can stay in my room. I’ll look after her.”

Xaden looks between the two of us. Clearly he’s not overly impressed about the idea of Garrick and I sharing a room even though he is happy we finally sorted our shit out. But eventually he slowly nods. Garrick would pretty much always be with me minus some classes, where I would be with Liam anyway. Meaning outside of classes Liam would only have to keep his focus on Violet.

“Fine. But I swear to gods you two better put up silencing wards. I do not want to hear anything.”

Part 20 Tag List

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey

[doc42]

"It seems I must be a warrior."

Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, 'I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.'"

"In ancient books of Asshai it is written that there will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him." 

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door.

. . . the shape of shadows . . . morrows not yet made . . . drink from the cup of ice . . . drink from the cup of fire . . . . . . mother of dragons . . . child of three . . .

The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war.

"It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl." No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words. "Fire and Blood," Daenerys told the swaying grass.

"I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior."

"I have seen it in the flames, read of it in ancient prophecy. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone."

"Remember who you are, Daenerys," the stars whispered in a woman's voice. "The dragons know. Do you?"

The next morning she woke stiff and sore and aching, with ants crawling on her arms and legs and face. When she realized what they were, she kicked aside the stalks of dry brown grass that had served as her bed and blanket and struggled to her feet. She had bites all over her, little red bumps, itchy and inflamed. Where did all the ants come from? Dany brushed them from her arms and legs and belly. She ran a hand across her stubbly scalp where her hair had burned away, and felt more ants on her head, and one crawling down the back of her neck. She knocked them off and crushed them under her bare feet. There were so many … It turned out that their anthill was on the other side of her wall. She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he'd built it himself.

When Daenerys says "Fire and Blood" to the Grass Ghost Jorah at the end of A Dance With Dragons it is her version of Prince Rhaegar's revelation "It seems I must be a warrior" from the backstory revealed to her by Ser Barristan in A Storm of Swords, as Azor Ahai reborn is described in ancient prophecy as a warrior who draws a burning sword from the fire in the dread hour when the darkness gathers, and one of the story's central genre subversions from the Nineties a decade long gone is said warrior is someone nobody would think as such: a young girl who wanted to laugh and plant trees and was tired of war. When the red queen Melisandre tells King Stannis things like

"The sand is running through the glass more quickly now, and man's hour on earth is almost done. We must act boldly, or all hope is lost. Westeros must unite beneath her one true king, the prince that was promised, Lord of Dragonstone and chosen of R'hllor."

the literary quality of the viewpoint structure is devised to make you ask, "and what is Azor Ahai reborn doing right about now?" Azor Ahai reborn the Lord of Dragonstone is reading true histories of Westeros and feels those look an awful lot like songs and fairy tales.

"You are trembling, Khaleesi," the girl said as she knelt to lace up Dany's sandals. "I'm cold," Dany lied. "Bring me the book I was reading last night." She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

"As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father's knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him.

We see the darkness gather at the end of A Dance With Dragons when Winter falls upon the world and time has come for all things to die:

Though she walked through a green kingdom, it was not the deep rich green of summer. Even here autumn made its presence felt, and winter would not be far behind. The grass was paler than she remembered, a wan and sickly green on the verge of going yellow. After that would come brown. The grass was dying.

Down in the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, they say there are oceans of ghost grass, taller than a man on horseback with stalks as pale as milkglass. It murders all other grass and glows in the dark with the spirits of the damned. The Dothraki claim that someday ghost grass will cover the entire world, and then all life will end." That thought gave Dany the shivers. "I don't want to talk about that now," she said. "It's so beautiful here, I don't want to think about everything dying."

Not silver. White. The bird is white. The white ravens of the Citadel did not carry messages, as their dark cousins did. When they went forth from Oldtown, it was for one purpose only: to herald a change of seasons. "Winter," said Ser Kevan. The word made a white mist in the air. He turned away from the window.

The central poetic dynamic beating beneath all of Mr Writer's work is he writes pragmatic characters to say "life is not a song" only to turn around and make the characters go "but we can make it so." "I thought you were a singer. A singer should understand. The song, that is the way I really die. Coll knew that, when he made the song for me." "I'll have no songs about how brave you died, Kingmaker." Essentially what GRRM always writes follows the dynamic of "and yet it moves", e pur si mouve, itself a legend in our world told about Galileo Galilei, fitting to be sure.

Though the Citadel has long sought to learn the manner by which it may predict the length and change of seasons, all efforts have been confounded. Septon Barth appeared to argue, in a fragmentary treatise, that the inconstancy of the seasons was a matter of magical art rather than trustworthy knowledge. Maester Nicol's The Measure of the Days—otherwise a laudable work containing much of use—seems influenced by this argument. Based upon his work on the movement of stars in the firmament, Nicol argues unconvincingly that the seasons might once have been of a regular length, determined solely by the way in which the globe faces the sun in its heavenly course. The notion behind it seems true enough—that the lengthening and shortening of days, if more regular, would have led to more regular seasons—but he could find no evidence that such was ever the case, beyond the most ancient of tales.

The stars. Dirk paused and looked up. The Helleye had begun to edge above the horizon; most of the stars were gone already. He saw only one, very faint, a tiny red pinpoint framed by wisps of gray clouds. Even as he watched, it vanished. High Kavalaan's star, he thought. Garse Janacek had shown it to him, a beacon for his run. There were too few stars out here anyway. These were no places for men to live, these worlds like Worlorn and High Kavalaan and Darkdawn, these outworlds. The Great Black Sea was too close on one hand, and the Tempter's Veil screened off most of the galaxy, and the skies were bleak and empty. A sky ought to have stars. A man ought to have a code too. A friend, a teyn, a cause-something beyond himself.

"A MAN must have PRINCIPLES, said the man who has none." "A MAN must have HONOR." When Jaime jumps into the fighting pit for Brienne and she calls him "Kingslayer" and he replies "Jaime", he is making the song "The Bear and the Maiden Fair" come true. When Theon and Jeyne Poole jump from the walls of Winterfell and fly to reach King Stannis, the false Azor Ahai reborn wielding the fake magic sword Lightbringer, one of Daenerys' lies from the House of the Undying, they're making the song come true, and the song appears in the Bolton-run Winterfell chapters as well, sung by Abel the Bard. And when Daenerys jumps into Daznak's Pit, she tames the dragon and flies into the skies.

For a song has power, a power that can be used for both good and bad, with mixed results, to deceive and uplift both. In The Armageddon Rag the occultists Edan Morse and Ananda Caine, proto-King Stannis and Melisandre of Asshai, use blood magic sacrifice to enhance the power of the song played by the central rock band Nazgûl in order to bend time itself and turn back the clock so that the Eighties become the Sixties again and they could travel the road not taken from there. "The music can't do it all by itself, it needs us to make it come true." This would spell doom for the world, the bleeding will never stop and the dead will rise again as armies of the night to fight the wars long gone for all eternity, but through the Nazgûl song at the end the Sixties stand together once more as ghosts united at rest, freed from the eternal battle. Resurrection may be a lie, but the Sixties will live forever in the music.

Prince Rhaegar was a fool to believe in prophecy because he was the only one who saw the truth of the world, that the cold night is coming and the darkness gathers, and felt he must make the song true to face this dread hour. Jaime was a fool to jump with no fighting hand into the pit for Brienne, for he could only hope Lord Bolton's men would slay the bear in time to keep the Kingslayer alive. Theon was a fool to jump from the walls of Winterfell in hopes of reaching King Stannis, for we know Stannis would try to execute Theon first chance he has for being the Turncloak. Dirk t'Larien in Dying of the Light is a fool to embrace code duello in a dying world without stars and choose to honor the promise he made to a woman he more invented in his head than loved, his "Jenny." Joshua York is a fool in Fevre Dream to confront Damon Julian the most ancient of all vampires, for Julian is like the river of time itself and his order of life is older than Rome, the way of the masters and slaves, the way of might. For it is known that life is not a song and when the winter comes and the darkness gathers, there can be no songs as no one will be left alive to sing them anyway. "She is the prince that was promised and hers will be the song of ice and fire."

[jacevelaryonswife]

ㅤㅤ Kiss me at sunset

How dangerous must it be for a little thing as lovely as you to wish were between a dragon's claws?

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

tags: kissing and flirting, also, english is not my first language

Prince Aemond is a polite man who does not often sneak into the shadows of the Red Keep corridors to listen to female whispers. However, when his name was mentioned by a beautiful voice he didn't do much to avoid paying attention to the subject you and another lady shared. The formidable rider of Vhagar knew that listening to uninvited conversations was incorrect and inconvenient, and that his curiosity could lead him to overhear something he didn't want, but none of that was enough to make him back down. And then, the opposite of the unwanted happened when you said your next words:

“If I could choose a husband, it would be Prince Aemond. He is handsome, tall and mysterious, in addition to being a great swordsman. I would like to have his children, beautiful children with silver hair and violet eyes, just like their father.”

“But he's so closed off and somber, I mean, he hardly ever smiles or courtes the other ladies,” your friend, Lady Roselyn, said with brief awkwardness.

“I think that's part of his charm. Mysterious and inaccessible. And I must say that I am not displeased with the fact that he does not court other ladies, it keeps my hopes up that one day I will be able to kiss him at sunset.” Your smile widened at the thought, rolling your body this way and that like an enchanted damsel.

"You talk like you're in love with him." She nudged you playfully with her hip, making your glow increase. Yes, she was right, or almost. He was a breathtaking figure, so male, intimidating and deadly.

"Maybe." Yes I am.

Indeed, the prince was not seen smiling or fraternizing with others, yet what was wrong with fantasizing a little?

Unfortunately, you couldn't take the initiative to approach Aemond, or even attempt a brief conversation — better avoided than made a fool of. But your heart squeezed by such weakness and cowardice, he will escape! (you thought). It was almost excruciating to hope to sow tiny grains of love with him, but pleasantly dreaming and daydreaming about scenarios in which the prince held your body tenderly and kissed you passionately didn't hurt.

And they certainly didn't hurt him.

The attention of the ladies was not entirely unusual, though most showed apathy and a certain indifference, Aemond noticed bold and curious looks in his direction — the same ones that Aegon received with constancy. But nothing as bold as his recent speech. You, such a lovely lady… really lovely. A satisfied and almost proud smile was displayed by the one-eyed prince as he returned to his original path. How dangerous must it be for a little thing as lovely as you to wish were between a dragon's claws?

From that day forward, nothing remained the same.

No other lady had ever held his attention like this, so desperate for his love and affection that it filled him with a strange, almost ghostly, unfamiliar feeling: to be appreciated. It was good. So good.

In fact, everything changed after that day. You were used to sneaking glances at the prince, but it was a surprise when he was looking back. Oh. Your heart skipped a beat, mouth opening slightly before looking away and looking again, just seeing the smirk Aemond sent your way. By the seven! Your smile wasn't discreet or restrained, almost too wide to betray your joy. What would he think? It was outrageous behavior.

But he loved your reaction. Oh, how he loved it. Such a sweet lady. And for his victory, that wasn't the only time Vhagar's rider met your gaze with a crooked smile. Aemond was not a man for half actions, if he wanted something he would have it. But he enjoyed playing with you. Seeing your sweet smile and sparkling — almost sassy — eyes was a real treat. He needed more. He needed everything you genuinely wanted to offer. He wanted you.

So when your beauty silhouette lit up the training yard, he almost let a fierce smile slip through his face before engaging Sir Criston Cole. It took everything in the one-eye prince not to be distracted by your image so tempting, not even a glance directed in your direction, he wanted to win and he wanted to win fast to be able to execute what he had been planning for some time.

“I don’t give a shit about torneys… my lady, can I accompany you on a walk?”

Seven heavens. Was he… was he… was he talking to you? It can not be. Did he invite you on a tour? In the middle of everyone? You? Did he invite you?

Your eyes widened more than usual, mouth nearly open as he reached out and nodded. You feared for what you might say by allowing yourself to speak, but the Mother is kind and has graced you with just one: "Yes, my prince, I would love to." You didn't know how you kept your feet when Aemond reached out for your hand to encircle the soft leather that hid his worked biceps. Curious gazes followed your figures as you both walked away from the courtyard. Your hand was trembling over him, waiting intently for what he would say next — he had to say something, didn't he?

“It's a pleasant day, don't you think, my lady?” he asked, watching your lower figure over his good eye.

“Indeed. I… you’re a great swordsman, my prince”, your voice was soft and nervous as you looked at him anxiously. He was handsome. So, so handsome.

“A man must know how to handle his sword, my lady.” He's not sure if the phrase's double meaning was intentional, but it slipped your mind — at least that's what you wanted him to think.

It was a terrifying sin where your mind took the phrase. His sword… by the Mother!

“But thank you for the compliment,” he said.

“You’re welcome, but you who flatter me with your company, my prince. Are we going somewhere specific?” You ventured into saying a longer sentence and even questioning him, feeling less insecure.

“To a beautiful place, my lady, just like you.” The smile displayed by him almost made you weak in the knees, almost needing to lean on his shoulder and almost making your lips touch...

“My prince… do you think I'm beautiful?”, you asked with an extra flutter of eyelashes, breath failing a little.

Aemond smirked as he felt the grip on his forearm and lowered his gaze before saying, “A truly beautiful and lovely lady.”

Your head was spinning in euphoria, utterly inert in the cloud of seduction the prince exuded towards you. How was it possible? Was he being genuine? Were you misinterpreting? Fuck — you didn't regret thinking that ugly word when you allowed yourself to speak your mind.

“I also find you lovely my prince. If I don't dare say it, I think you’re the handsome man at court. So handsome."

Aemond's smile only widened as he clenched his left fist, needing to feel your skin against his palm. A totally adorable and needy little thing. Spontaneous, charming... he had so many adjectives to designate you.

“Your words grace me, my lady, mm.”

Eyes seemed to follow you along the way, surprised by the unprecedented scene of the one-eye prince with a lady suspended on his arm. It was the high point of the day for the curious whisperers that roamed the Red Keep. Crossing the corridors and arriving at a point where the beautiful orange sky could be better contemplated without interruption, Aemond immediately rested his hand against your waist, the grip not going unnoticed by you. Oh gods, how you wanted him. It was totally indecent and inappropriate how your legs tingled from the heat of the dragon beside you.

“A beautiful view, as I promised,” he said, stopping beside you.

Indeed, a beautiful view. You heart was pounding every second, not knowing what to say. Should you thank him?

He wasn't as patient in waiting for your answer, cornering you with his words: "A beautiful view for a sunset kiss."

Your eyes widened, turning immediately to face him. He knew… how? “My prince… Roselyn told you?” How dare she?

“No, my lady, it was just a hunch,” he replied vaguely, smiling at your reaction. His eye hovered over your pretty lips, his hand snaking around your waist as he moved impossibly close. He could feel your warm, ragged breaths, your eyes meeting his pink, desiring lips before crashing them down hungrily. You kissed him fervently and let your hands roam your prince's hair and shoulders. Your mind was still on the intoxicating moment, totally given over to the hands firm and almost unkind against your hips and waist, given over to the warm lips that crashed fiercely against yours.

You fought equally in the kiss, as needy as he was by the smoldering passion that threatened to surround your futures. It was indecent how you two indulged in something intimate in a public place where anyone could see. But he didn't care, not anymore. Not now that you would be his, only his to claim.

“ñuhon,” he said breathlessly, teeth clenching, “mine.”

Indeed, you were his. Just his.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Princess of Starlight; Thranduil x elfling child reader

*Author's note*

Well guys this took me awhile to get around to making and a couple of weeks to write it all down but this weekend I finally had some time to fully sit and write it out and now it's ready! So @soralinklokidottirofmirkwood I appreciate your patience with me and I now present to you your request. Hope you enjoy it as well as any reader who catches this little gem.

Warnings: parental death, spiders (yeah those arachnophobes out there like me, BEWARE OF SPIDERS!!) mentions of infertility and stillborn children, some angst and fluff.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

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I managed to duck down into the root of a tree and quickly buried myself with some old leaves and twigs and stayed as quiet as I could until I heard the sound of their clicking and hissing.  I then watched as their shadows went past the tree I was hiding under, hoping and praying to the Valar that they wouldn’t see me.

After what felt like forever, the last of them finally walked passed my tree so I slowly peeked out clenching my father’s crystal necklace he had given me before he and mother told me to run and hide.  There was nothing but silence in the woods, no birds, no wind, not even the sound of running water.

Very carefully I decided to venture out of my tree in hopes of finding another place to hide, or maybe get out of the woods all together.  Suddenly out of nowhere I was pinned down by three long, hairy legs and heard a hiss-like roar behind my back.  I tried to fight but I felt myself being wound up in the sticky web of the spider that had me pinned.

Then as quickly as I felt it starting to wrap my up, it stopped.  I heard the whizzing sound of arrows being shot, blades being unsheathed, and the terrible sounds of the spider that had me pinned along with more spiders from above the trees.  Soon there was silence once again and I heard someone say in my language.

“How many are left?”

“I counted five more escaping during the skirmish my lord Legolas.” Said a female voice.

“Kill them all. None must be left alive. By order of the King.” The male voice said again.  The female then proclaimed an Elvish command and I heard some running away from the area.

“My lord Legolas, what about the victim?” oh no.  I tried to wriggle myself out of the web but it was so thick and sticky, I couldn’t even move my arms up that had been pinned to my side.  So like a warm, I tried to inch myself to a hiding spot (even though I could barely see through the silked webs) but I was soon stopped by another foot.

This was it, this is where I would meet my end. Not by spiders but by my own kin.  I felt as the webs were being cut away and I was now staring into the sharp, blue eyes of an elf in what almost looked like dragon-like armor.

“Stand down, she’s only an elfling.” He ordered to the few dozen guards that remained at his side.  Unlike the others who had either dark or red hair, this elf before me had blonde hair, just like my mother did.  I jumped out of my web trap and pressed myself against one of the trees and the elf told me, “It’s alright. No one will hurt you.”

Even though he looked intimidating, there was a comforting aura around him that I was sensing from him thanks to father’s necklace.

“Do you speak in the Eldar? Or do you also know common tongue?” he asked me.  But before I could answer, I noticed a large shadow slowly coming down from above.  It was one of the younger spiders whose feet are so light, they couldn’t even be detected by our Elvish ears.  One of the guards happened to look where I was looking and proclaimed.

“Hir nin Legolas!” my necklace soon glowed and I extended my hand out and a powerful wind blast sent everyone falling down including the spider.  It’s back slammed hard into the trunk of a tree before falling down on a spiked log, piercing it through it’s center and it quickly fell limp.  The elven guards plus the elf who had tried to talk to me, Legolas according to one of the guards.  They all looked at me in either shock or awe at what I had just done.

“I’m sorry.” I finally spoke to show that I knew both Elvish and common tongue.  “I didn’t want that one to hurt you. They’re more deadly than the bigger ones, nana and adar were attacked by one just like that. The venom spread so quickly mother barely had the chance to cry out.” Suddenly one of the guard withdrew his bow and arrow and aimed it at me.  I jumped back fearfully but Legolas stood in front of me, shielding me from the oncoming attack.

“Lower your bow Feren!”

“My lord, she had hurt you!” Feren snapped.

“It was an accident. She saved my life, and as such it would do you more harm than good to bring harm to my rescuer.” Feren without question removed his arrow from his bow and stood down.  Legolas turned back towards me and knelt back down in front of me.  “Little one, how do you know magic?”

“My father’s amulet. It just—glows whenever I feel high levels of fear and fires the magic. I didn’t mean to hurt you I swear it.”

“No apologizes necessary, may I be permitted to see your father’s amulet? Don’t worry I won’t take it from you.” I looked into his eyes and felt deep down he was telling the truth.  I reached underneath my shirt and pulled it out and held it out to him.  He gently took it in his hands and as he admired the crystal gem, I noticed how his eyes widened when he turned it around to look at the runes on the back.

“Am I—in trouble?” I asked nervously.  He looked at me and told me as he handed me back my father’s amulet.

“No penneth. But we would like for you to come with us, the King would like to know of your presence in our part of the forest.” The King? As in King Thranduil? I had made it to King Thranduil’s palace?! I had but lost hope that I would make it here.

Before I had lost my father, he had told me to reach the realm of Thranduil.  If I showed him my amulet, he could protect me.  Those were his last words before the younger spider got to him and dragged him off into the woods, never to be seen again.  Legolas kept his hand out for me to take it and so I did and he ordered the remaining guards to follow us.

As we walked, I soon began to feel the light of the sun upon my face as we reached a different part of the woods.  I couldn’t recall the last time I had felt the light of the sun or have been able to feel all of Yavanna’s great creations all around me.  The feel of the spray of the rushing waterfalls beneath us, the smell of the fresh air instead of the decaying one I had been under.

We soon came to a great fortress that had been built within the trees themselves.  Gates of iron stood before us as Legolas ordered the guards to close the gates behind us.  Once inside I was amazed at the interior of this grand palace.

Narrow walkways of tree bark and light that seemed to be glowing on it’s own from what appeared to be sap from the trees.  Elves all around were walking the various pathways that either were below or on top of us.  Soon enough, we came before a large, intimidating throne of wood and stone.

Large antler-like structures stood on either side of the throne that was at the foot of a narrow staircase at the foot.  And sitting upon the throne wielding a staff was none other than the King of all Mirkwood, King Thranduil.

He resembled Legolas almost to a perfect picture but his eyes held a harshness that felt like winter wind hitting you in the face.  A crown of autumn leaves stood upon his head and he wore robe of onyx and hanging off his shoulders was a blood red cloak.

“Legolas,” his voice held a deep booming sound to it that almost resembled thunder in the far off mountains.  “Who is this child you have brought before me?”

“My lord, this young elf was found within the outer boarders of your realm. The spiders had ambushed her and nearly had her killed. She in returned saved me from a spider that we had missed that would’ve killed me.” Thranduil’s eyes shifted to me.

Seeing him upon his throne lounging against it and his icy blue eyes staring down upon me gave me an intimidating feeling.

“And you had killed it? It wasn’t left alive?” he asked me.

“Yes, Great King of Wood and Stone.” I said bowed to him.

“The child has manners. And a great debt is owed to you for saving my son.” He told me.  Legolas is the son of the King?! I had saved the Prince of Mirkwood?!

“It is also best that you know this young elfling saved me not with a steel of any weapon, but of magic. A powerful magic that I had never crossed paths with before.” Legolas said again.  I watched as Thranduil slowly came down the steps of his throne and stood before us and told his son and the guards.

“Leave us.” They bowed and soon I was left alone with the great King of the Wood.  “Rise young one.” I got back to my feet and looked up at him nervously, fiddling with the ends of my tattered dress.  “How long have you been traveling in the woods on your own?”

“I—lost my parents what feels like an age. But counting from what I could tally in the ground and trees, it had been nearly a year and a half since I had been on my own.”

“And from where did you hail from in my kingdom?”

“The Southern borders of Mirkwood my lord. Near the fell fortress. My parents and I escaped the spider raid when they first came upon the lands.”

“What were your parents names?” he asked me.

“My mother’s name was Thessa, and my father’s name was…..”

“Orrian.” The King finished for me.  I looked up at the King in shock.

“You knew my father?” the king knelt down to my height and asked me.

“Answer me this, do you bear his family’s amulet? A clear diamond surrounded in silver?” I reached down into my shirt and pulled out the amulet necklace and Thranduil’s eyes widened.  “By the grace of Varda. You are her. You are Orrian’s young starlight. You are just as he described.”

“My father spoke highly of you, but I always thought it was because you were the King of our realm.”

“Not only that child but your father and I go back a long time into our elfling hoods back in our old home of Doriath. He was the youngest cousin to the Queen Melian. And my greatest friend. Oh the times we had together as elflings.” His voice held a warm, gentleness and his eyes that once struck me with a cold feeling now held a warm, tender look to them.  “I am sorry for your loss my dear child, but know that your father truly loved you. More than anyone, more than life.”

“That’s what he said before telling me to find you. Saying that you would protect me. I had but given up hope that I would even find sanctuary and that his and my mother’s deaths would’ve been in vain.” Thranduil placed a comforting hand to my shoulder and said.

“You need not think that anymore dear one, your parents can finally rest in peace knowing that you will indeed be safe here in my realm.” Then I did something I never would’ve thought I had the guts to do.

I embraced the Elven king.  He tensed up at the surprised hug but gladly embraced me back.

Later that night after being provided with proper lodgings, food and medical attention to the scraps and bruises from running through the thick shrubberies.  Thranduil sat down with me on my bed telling me all the stories of him and my father growing up.

“And had it not been for me, your father would’ve never had gotten the courage to ask a dance from your mother.” He finished the tale of how he had helped my father and mother begin their courting.

“Father always said he’d learn to thank you for giving him the proper push.” I fiddled with his amulet necklace.  My heart growing heavy with grief.  “I miss him and mother every day.”

“And they loved you dearly. They feared that they would go through life without being able to conceiving a child. Everytime your mother started to bear one, it was either a stillborn or she ended up losing it. But when you came along, there was something about you that made your father believe that you were the one. You were going to be the grace of Varda herself, and he was right.” He tucked some of my hair behind my ear and turned my chin up to look at him, “An elfling born with the power of the Stars and wind, and it is through that amulet that was brought down by his family line that helps harness your powers.”

“Yet they didn’t appear till after I had lost them. If only I was able to use that power to save them.”

“There is a saying your father used to say, ‘Yesterday is history, tomorrow’s a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present’. We cannot choose what happens in that time frame or what events will fall, only after what’s done is done, do we have the strength to follow through to the next event that may fall upon us.” I nodded and leaned my head against the king’s arm.

I felt his arm come around me, pulling me onto his lap as my head rested on his shoulder.

“I promise you (Y/n), you’ll never know fear or loneliness ever again. I swear on your father, I’ll try to give the same amount of love as he and your mother gave you.”

“Thank you my lord.”

“No more formalities. You may call me by my name when it is just us, okay?”

“Okay, Thranduil.” I felt him bring me closer to him in a loving embrace and he lay a kiss upon the top of my head.

For the rest of my life, Thranduil kept his word.  I was raised at his side like his own daughter and Legolas came to see me as his own little sister.  I was trained not only in weapons by my brother and father, I was also taught how to better control my magic.  Though for those lessons, I was sent to Rivendell where I was told by Lord Elrond that he and his wife were good friends of my mother.

Lord Elrond taught me of how to better control my magic and how to use it in combat.  Throughout the lands I became known as the Starlight Princess of the Woodland realm.  Any orc that I came in contact with was blinded by my powers of Starlight and shuddered in fear whenever the winds would blow, signaling my arrival.  And whenever I felt doubt or fear of forgetting what my parents looked like, my adoptive father was willing to show me old pictures of him and my father and tell me more stories of them and their lives together. And I never had to live with fear or doubt ever again, just as my adoptive father had promised.

[allisonbaelfire]

Amethyst. - PART 13

The sterile smell of antiseptic was the first thing I noticed as my senses slowly came back. My body felt like it was encased in ice—heavy and aching. I blinked, my vision adjusting to the bright lights of the UA nursing room. The last thing I remembered was Bakugo running toward me. Then… nothing.

“You’re awake,” a familiar voice said from the side of the room.

I turned my head, and there was Recovery Girl, her small frame looking even tinier in the large chair beside me. Her expression was serious, her eyes sharp with concern.

“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked, her tone kind, but something in her voice told me she wasn’t asking just to make conversation.

I tried to move, but a sharp pain shot through my hands. I winced and looked down. My hands were wrapped in thick bandages, and a faint purple hue pulsed underneath. The memory of the Ice Dragon flickered in my mind, along with the fire. I couldn’t suppress a shiver.

“My hands… they’re frozen again, aren’t they?”

Recovery Girl shook her head slowly. “It’s not just your hands. Your body temperature… it’s far hotter than anything I’ve ever seen, even hotter than Endeavor’s when he uses his flames. If you don’t learn how to control it, Y/N, it could be very dangerous for you.” Her words were gentle, but the warning was clear.

Dangerous. The word hung in the air. I had known that the Ice Dragon was powerful, but I didn’t think it would push my body to the brink like this.

I nodded weakly, feeling the weight of her concern settle on my chest. I was always teetering on the edge of control, and this was just another reminder of how close I had come to losing everything.

Recovery Girl stood up, moving closer to check my bandages. “You’ve got the potential for something great, but this—” She gestured to my hands. “This kind of power will consume you if you don’t take control. Understand?”

I swallowed, the words sticking in my throat, but I nodded again. I understood.

As Recovery Girl left the room, her warning still echoed in my head. I lay back down, staring at the ceiling. Outside, I could hear the crowd roaring, the matches continuing without me. The sports festival was still going, and I wasn’t out there.

Tenya’s match with Ibara Shiozaki must be happening now. I wanted to be out there supporting him, but my thoughts kept drifting back to our last conversation. That’s why you’re not a Pro-Hero anymore. His words had stung more than I let on.

I clenched my teeth, feeling the sting of bitterness creep in. I understood where he was coming from, I really did, but it still hurt. He hadn’t seen what it takes, what we sometimes must become to survive out there – in a real fight. I had seen it—lived it.

Even so, I couldn’t help but want to see his match. I wanted to know if he had started to grasp what it really meant to be a hero after watching me battle Bakugo. Heroes don’t just lecture others; they fight with everything they have, even when it means pushing themselves beyond their limits. Maybe now, after seeing that, Tenya would finally understand.

Then there was Kirishima’s match against Tokoyami. I liked both, and they were strong in their own right, but a part of me hoped Kirishima would pull through. He had a certain toughness that was hard to beat, even against Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow.

My thoughts were cut off by a loud thud at the door. When I looked up, Bakugo had already let himself in, looking like he owned the place, as usual.

“What the hell, Bakugo?” I frowned, trying to sit up through the soreness.

“Tch, don’t ‘what the hell’ me. Like I’m gonna sit around while you’re lying here looking like shit.” His arms were crossed, his expression sharp, like he was annoyed just being here.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “I figured you’d be too busy winning to care.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Frostburn.” Bakugo shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning against the wall. “Denki and Mina are keeping your old man distracted. I figured you didn’t wanna see him barging in here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You did that? Since when do you care?”

He rolled his eyes, irritated. “I don’t. Just didn’t want him yelling in my face while I’m trying to think.”

His words were sharp, but something in his stance seemed a little off, like he was trying too hard to look disinterested. Before I could say anything else, he jumped right to the point.

“Heard what went down after you passed out. Your old man and Todoroki were going at it. So, what the hell’s your problem?” His eyes narrowed, glaring at me. “You got fire, you got that damn dragon—so why’d you hold back with Shinso? You didn’t hold back when we fought but then suddenly you fucking did? You going soft on me or something?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could I explain something I hadn’t even fully accepted myself? That I hadn’t just fought him to win, but to protect my loved ones from a threat I couldn’t even name yet? I had no choice but to show everyone what I was capable of—to prove that I wasn’t weak. But how could I tell Bakugo that without putting him in danger too?

I tried to push the words out, to tell him about the warning Hawks had given me, but instead, I hesitated. I trusted Bakugo, more than I trusted anyone from the UA, even though I couldn’t explain why. It felt like too much. So instead, I chose the part of the story I thought was safer to tell.

“You could’ve beaten me,” Bakugo’s voice cut through my thoughts like a blade. “But you weren’t all there. So, what the hell happened? Why didn’t you finish it?”

He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t been fully present. I was fighting something deeper, something more than just him.

“I wasn’t holding back out of pity, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I muttered, keeping my eyes away from his. It was the truth, but it felt hollow saying it out loud.

“Then what?” he snapped, his voice sharp and insistent, like he wasn’t about to let me off easy. “Spit it out.”

The truth about Toya seemed like the only thing I could explain. I’d mentioned him to Bakugo before, briefly, but not the full story. Not what really happened.

I hesitated, feeling the weight of it all press down on me. I hadn’t really told anyone about Toya, not the full story. Not even Shoto. But standing here with Bakugo, with his intense, unrelenting gaze on me, I felt like I had to say something. Maybe it was because I knew he wouldn’t sugar-coat his response, or maybe I was just tired of carrying it.

“I had a brother,” I began, my voice quieter than I intended. “Toya. I told you about him before, but… I didn’t tell you everything.”

Bakugo didn’t say anything, but his glare stayed fixed on me, waiting. He wasn’t letting this go. There was no running from this conversation.

“We were really close and used to train together,” I continued, the memories of those days flooding back. “Until one day… something went wrong. Toya lost control of his flames and when I tried to safe him with my Dragon I lost control too, and he—he didn’t survive.”

There was a flicker of something in Bakugo’s eyes, but he stayed quiet, listening. I didn’t expect him to offer any comforting words. That wasn’t his style, and I didn’t need it.

“I’ve been afraid of that power ever since,” I said, my voice thickening with the weight of it all. “Afraid of what it could do. But when I fought you… I couldn’t hold it back. The dragon… it just came out.”

Bakugo scoffed, crossing his arms. “That’s your problem, Frostburn. You think holding back’s gonna save you—or anyone else. But it’s not.”

I tensed at his words. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t exactly right either. I wasn’t just holding back for myself. There was more to it—more than he knew.

“I wanted to make Toya proud,” I whispered, barely able to say the words. “I thought if I could control it, if I could use it… maybe I’d be strong enough to prove something to him. To everyone.”

There was a long silence after that. I didn’t look up at Bakugo, afraid of what I might see in his expression. Maybe he thought I was weak for thinking that way. Maybe he—

“Stop thinking like an idiot,” Bakugo snapped, his voice low but cutting. “You’re not here to make some dead guy proud. You’re here to win. To be the best. You think your brother wanted you to fall apart like this?”

His words stung, but not in the way I expected. It wasn’t cruelty—it was Bakugo’s brutal honesty. And somehow, it felt more real than anything else.

“Look, I get it,” Bakugo continued, his eyes hard but unwavering. “You’ve got shit to prove, just like everyone else. But next time you’re in a fight with me or anyone else, holding back’s just gonna get you killed.” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “If you’ve got power like that, you use it. You don’t let it use you.”

He paused, as if weighing whether to say more, then added, “And you don’t need to make Toya proud. He’s dead. Focus on you.”

I swallowed, feeling the tightness in my chest ease just a little. He didn’t pity me. He didn’t look down on me for what I had told him. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like someone understood—even if he’d never admit it out loud.

“And if he’d still be alive, I think he’d want you to control that thing. So learn how to fucking control your powers.” He muttered.

Before I could respond, the door slammed open, and Shoto stormed in, his eyes locking onto Bakugo immediately.

“What are you doing here?” Shoto demanded, his voice cold and clipped. “Only family is allowed in this room.”

Bakugo’s eyes flicked toward me, then back to Shoto. “Listen half and half bastard,” A dark chuckle escaped him, low and mocking. “I’ve known Frostburn for a few weeks, and I’m probably more family to her than you ever will be.”

I felt my heart skip a beat at his words, my mind reeling from the shock. I could see Shoto’s fists clenching at his sides, but before he could respond, Fuyumi and Natsuo walked in behind him, their presence diffusing some of the tension.

Bakugo didn’t stick around. He nodded to me, a silent acknowledgment, before turning to leave the room without another word. But as he passed by Shoto, the air between them crackled with unspoken hostility. Shoto’s icy glare followed him, but he stayed quiet, too angry and confused to say anything in front of our siblings.

I watched Bakugo leave, the tension still lingering in the room, but something caught my eye as he reached the door. A small, red feather was tucked against the back of his uniform. It waved at me, just for a second, and I immediately recognized it—Hawks.

My breath hitched in my throat as I realized what Hawks was trying to tell me. He was showing me, in his subtle way, that I could trust Bakugo.

The feather fluttered once more before disappearing as Bakugo stepped out of the room. I wasn’t sure if Katsuki even knew it was there, but the message was clear. Hawks had been watching, guiding me, and he trusted Bakugo. Maybe I should too.

__________

Once Bakugo was out of the room, the air felt heavier, like everyone was trying to process what had just happened. Fuyumi, always the peacemaker, smiled at me softly as she walked over to the side of my bed.

“You’re awake!” she said, her voice filled with relief. “We were so worried.”

I smiled back, though I could still feel the weight of everything lingering in the room. “I’m okay. Just a little… tired.”

Natsuo gave me a firm pat on the back—well, as close as he could, given the blankets and bandages. “You sure know how to make an entrance, don’t you? That Ice Dragon of yours was amazing.”

I forced a small laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Yeah, well, it nearly took me out too.”

Shoto stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, his face set in that familiar unreadable mask. He hadn’t said anything since Bakugo left, and I could feel his gaze lingering on me, but I didn’t have the energy to deal with his judgment right now.

“Shoto, doesn’t you fight start soon or do you wanna stay?” Fuyumi asked, her voice light as she tried to keep things normal.

Shoto looked up at her, then back at me. His expression tightened for a moment before he shook his head. “No. I’ll be leaving soon,” he said curtly. His words weren’t meant to sound harsh, but I could hear the underlying tension. There was still so much left unsaid between us.

I glanced at him briefly before turning my attention to Fuyumi. “Hey, can you tell me what really happened during the fight?” I asked, changing the subject. “I remember Bakugo running toward me, but… I don’t remember how it ended.”

Fuyumi exchanged a glance with Natsuo, then sighed. “You really don’t remember?”

I shook my head, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach. “No.”

Fuyumi sat down beside me, her voice gentle as she explained. “You were about to collapse, Y/N. The Ice Dragon was falling apart, and it looked like Katsuki was going to land the final hit, but… he didn’t. Instead, he caught you before you fell. He saved you from the dragon’s collapse.”

My eyes widened in surprise. Bakugo… saved me?

Fuyumi nodded, seeing the confusion on my face. “He used his explosions to keep the ice from crushing down on you, then made sure you were safe before calling it a draw. After that, your classmates stepped in to make sure Father couldn’t reach you.”

I was stunned. Bakugo wasn’t the type to hold back, let alone help someone during a fight. The thought that he had protected me—that he had made sure Endeavor couldn’t get to me—didn’t make sense. But then again, nothing about Bakugo was ever simple.

“He saved me…” I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.

Fuyumi smiled softly, but there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “I don’t know him well, but from what I saw during the festival, Bakugo isn’t the type to hold back. The fact that he did… it says something. He might not be easy to understand, but maybe there’s more to him than you think.”

“Or he just as a crush on our little sister.” Natsuo grinned and saw me blushing immediately from his comment. “Seems like someone’s got a soft spot.”

I shot him a look, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. The guy’s got a reputation since the festival, and saving people isn’t usually his style.”

I shook my head, still processing everything. Bakugo had pushed me to my limits, and yet he hadn’t finished the fight. He had protected me from my own power. Why?

Before I could dwell on it further, Present Mic’s voice echoed through the speakers, announcing the next match.

“The next battle is about to begin: Katsuki Bakugo versus Shoto Todoroki!”

Shoto straightened, his expression hardening. “I’ll see you after the match,” he said, his voice clipped. He turned on his heel and left the room without another word, Natsuo following him.

_________

As soon as they were gone, I turned to Fuyumi, who was watching me with a knowing smile.

“I have to see the fight,” I said, already struggling to sit up. The pain in my hands was sharp, and my body still ached from the fight, but I couldn’t just lie here while Bakugo and Shoto faced off. “Help me get up.”

Fuyumi looked at me, her expression a mixture of concern and amusement. “Are you sure you should be moving around right now?”

I nodded, determination hardening my voice. “I’m sure. I need to see this.”

I couldn’t let this fight happen without seeing it for myself. I needed to know what Bakugo would do after everything that had happened between our fight. And Shoto… he was still so angry. Also they hate each other.

As Fuyumi helped me to my feet, supporting me as I steadied myself, she smiled softly. “You and Shoto are really full of surprises today.”

I frowned, a little confused. “What do you mean?”

“Both of you, using your fire,” she said, her voice filled with a kind of astonished pride. “It’s not something I ever thought I’d see.”

My eyes widened in shock. “Wait—Shoto? He used his fire?” My mind raced. “How did that happen? He never uses it.”

Fuyumi nodded, her expression softening. “Against Midoriya. I think something changed for him after your fight… or maybe after seeing what you did.” She paused, her gaze thoughtful. “He didn’t hold back, Y/N. Not like he used to. It was like he finally accepted that part of himself.”

I was stunned. Shoto, using his fire?  The very thing he swore he’d never do because of our father. Something big must have shifted for him. And knowing that it happened today, of all days—after everything I went through—felt like a strange mirror of my own struggle.

With Fuyumi supporting me, we made our way slowly toward the viewing area. Every step sent a wave of exhaustion through my body, but I pushed it aside. I had to be there.

The crowd was already buzzing with anticipation as we approached the arena, the tension thick in the air. Bakugo was already in the center, his usual confident smirk in place, explosions sparking at his palms. Across from him, Shoto stood tall, his eyes cold and focused, the air around him already dropping in temperature.

They were ready to fight.

__________

Amethyst. - MASTERLIST: click here

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia - Chapter 2: A Mere Lady (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 2: A Mere Lady

Daemon has returned to King’s Landing. Yet it is not in his nature to sit idle.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

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Warnings: That extreme slow burn once more lmao, Daemon being an idiot, Westerosi sexism, mention of violence, Daemon and Y/N bickering like children again

Word Count: 2.9k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: Thank you for all the support for the first chapter of Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia! It really warms my heart to see all your reblogs and likes 💗 this chapter is a bit of a filler one, but something big will happen next chapter (can you guess what it is? 👀) I hope you enjoy reading!

wonderful dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics​  !  

The shadows darkened and the bustle of noise in the Red Keep slowly faded into a faint hum as night enveloped the castle. I had just finished drawing up and helping Aemma into a bath when a maid announced the presence of King Viserys. I hurriedly rose from where I was preparing the Queen’s nightclothes and curtsied. “Your Grace.” Viserys merely waved away my greeting, putting a hand on my shoulder. “At ease, Y/N. We are not in the presence of other courtiers, you need not refer to me by my title.” I smiled fondly at Viserys. “Well, if my king commands it. Are you here to see Aemma? She is in the midst of her nightly soak” Viserys’ brows furrowed, “Of course. How has she been? Are the baths of any help?”

“Aemma says it is effective to a degree, but the moment she steps out of the bath, the aches return.” Viserys hummed in acknowledgement; “Looks like our son is taking quite the toll on my beloved. He must be an active lad.” My smile widened at that: Viserys’ pride in his unborn son was clearly strong. But my smile dropped when I heard Viserys’ next words, “Have you had a chance to run into Daemon by any chance, Y/N?” I chewed hard on my lip at his question, making Viserys raise his eyebrows and laugh at my obvious distaste for his younger brother. “I will take that as a yes. Are the both of you still having trouble getting along?”

“We get along about as well as fire and oil, I’m afraid.” Viserys let out a huge belly laugh at that, “And who is the oil in this situation, you or Daemon?” “Daemon,” I answered without hesitation. “Seven hells, I have no doubt his love for provoking me is fueled by the gods themselves.” Viserys looked amused, “Well, as your king, I am pleased to inform you that I have listened to your petitions and assigned him back to his old post at the City’s Watch. Mayhaps he will cease annoying you with this new responsibility.”

“I thank you for your graciousness, Your Grace,” I curtsied slightly. “Your justice is indeed swift and efficient.” “Well, a king must care for his subjects above all else. And you are like a sister to me.” Viserys patted me on the shoulder, “I must go and check on my beloved now. A King must not keep his Queen waiting after all.” I nodded and turned back to my duties as he ambled away.

The morning sun lazily clambered up the sky, causing the Red Keep to begin to bustle about with noise once more. A servant helped me lace up my new Tyrell green gown, with small gold rocaille prints dotting the bodice and gold roses stitched throughout. Autumn had fallen upon King’s Landing, and the air was beginning to fill with a biting chill, hence my father had ordered the dressmakers to design the dress with fitted long sleeves. I was a little uncomfortable, since I was unused to dresses with fitted sleeves, but it did make it easier for me to tend to Aemma.

I cast a glance at the fireplace. The flames had long died out, but in the midst of the charred black wood, I could see the remnants of parchment. The new dress from Father had not arrived without condition. I had not bothered to read the letter - knowing it would be full of eligible lord names and pleading from my father to just pick one and put him out of his misery - instead chucking it into the fire without a second thought.

“My lady?” Blinking, I looked up at the servant girl. “I am finished with your hair. Are you in need of anything else?” I studied my reflection in the vanity, patting a stray strand of hair down gently. “No, everything is fine. You’ve done a wonderful job. Thank you, Rebecca.” She smiled and curtsied before scurrying off. I put on my favourite pair of gold earrings, checking my reflection one last time before striding out of my chambers.

Aemma was never an early riser, and pregnancy fatigue had only served to prolong her hours spent in bed, hence I always took this opportunity to wander around the Red Keep while undertaking any errands assigned to me at the same time. After making an errand run to the washerwomen to pick up Aemma’s clothes, I bustled over to the Grand Maester’s quarters to request for the Queen’s medicinal teas. I also paid a visit to the seamstress to get a few garments of Aemma’s altered, as she had complained about them being too tight around her bump.

With my list of tasks fulfilled, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Aemma had yet to rise, hence I was wandering aimlessly around the hallways. It was then that I heard a few lads whispering as they passed me. “Did you hear about Prince Daemon’s latest exploits?” “Aye, I heard the smallfolk’s cries all the way from Flea Bottom in my quarters last night. The king has summoned him to the Small Council meeting this morning to demand answers, I’ve heard.” “The prince truly cannot go a day without causing trouble…”

Curiosity piqued, I listened thoughtfully to their conversation until their voices faded away. Daemon? Causing trouble? There was nothing novel of the matter. Yet, the lads had whispered about hearing the cries of the smallfolk. And from what I heard, it did not seem like the cries that Daemon was fond of eliciting.

My nosiness getting the better of me, I turned on my heel, my green skirts swishing behind me. Arriving at the base of the White Knights Tower, I slipped inside a room before anyone could notice and question my presence. The room in question was a secondary armoury, but it was rarely used as the weapons stored here were either blunted after years of use or outright broken. I pushed aside a false pillar made of highly porous stone, revealing a narrow gap which I squeezed through with ease.

Pulling back the pillar to cover the gap once more, my eyes trailed around the expanse of the space as I found myself in a familiar winding hallway. Sunlight poured in through numerous crumbling holes in the ceiling, and the air was filled with a dank smell. Sneezing slightly, I gathered my skirts and quickly made my way through the familiar maze of passageways. I nearly forgot to take a left, almost ending up in the secret halls in the Tower of the Hand, but I retraced my paths and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the Hand’s disdainful voice. Here, the passageways were much more spacious and bright, being situated on the upper floors of Maegor’s Holdfast.

Peeking through one of the spaces in the walls, I caught sight of the Small Council seated around the table. Daemon was sitting near the head of the table still clad in his armour, his face streaked with dirt. Unfortunately, his back was turned to me, so I couldn’t glimpse his expression. However, I noticed most of the lords were looking noticeably on edge, especially the Hand. Otto’s face was even more unpleasant than usual, and that was saying something.

By the Gods, what had Daemon done now?

“You might not know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep, but much of the city is seen by the smallfolk as lawless, and terrifying.” Daemon’s smooth voice echoed throughout the room. Otto’s face turned as sour as spoiled milk. I had to restrain a snort, he was not incorrect, the residents of the Red Keep, particularly those of noble blood, were very far removed from the lives of the smallfolk. I had once ridden with Rhaenyra and Alicent to the Dragonpit, passing by the streets of Flea Bottom, and safe to say, I was very glad for my life of luxury in the Red Keep, although I did feel sorry for them.

“...I just hope you don’t have to maim half of my city to achieve this.” “Time will tell,” came Daemon’s response. Even with my view of his facial expressions obstructed, I could nearly picture the smirk on his face, clear as day. I rolled my eyes. It seems that Daemon’s first night returning to his duties as commander of the City Watch had been bloody, to say the least.

“If only the prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does to his work, your Grace.” I snapped to attention once more, eyes keenly observing the proceedings through the space. Gods be good, the Hand cannot give it a rest, can he? I suppose he could not: his distaste for Daemon clouded him from better judgement. But he should know better, I bit my lip to restrain the laugh I know would follow. Daemon always knew how to find someone’s sore spots, and Otto Hightower was as prickly as those strange Dornish desert dwelling plants.

“I’d gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you are in want of a woman to warm your bed,” Otto’s face lost its previous smugness as his eyes grew wide in anger and he stiffened at Daemon’s remarks. “Your own lady wife passed recently-” There was a scraping of a chair on the floor as the Hand towered over the table. I recognised the expression on his face, it was one I had worn many times in my life.

The visceral urge to punch Daemon Targaryen in the face.

I clapped my hand over my mouth, trying to fight the battle to keep my laughter at bay

“Did she not?” I lost the battle as a small wheeze erupted from my covered mouth. My eyes widening, I watched as the men at the Small Council table stiffen, particularly Daemon - his stance suddenly became more pronounced and alert. I know it would be hard to discover me unless the men had knowledge of the secret passages, yet I felt my heart thundering in my chest.

But the gods were good, and the men soon dismissed the sound as Viserys attempted to soothe Otto’s anger. Finally, after Viserys admonished Daemon for his actions- albeit not as fiercely as the Hand would have hoped for, judging by how his sharp glare had not subsided in the least after the king’s judgement - Daemon got up to leave, the doors shutting behind him with a definitive thunk. I dusted off my skirts and readied myself to leave as well. The excitement was over, and I had gotten the information I wanted to know anyway. Walking through the hallways again, I debated on which path I should take to ensure my exit would not be noticed by anyone. The nearest exit I knew was immediately out of the question, and I could not sneak out through the exits in any of the royal apartments, because there was an ever-present risk of being discovered by a nosy servant. Sighing, I continued walking, lost in thought, until a figure pushed me against a wall.

I opened my mouth to scream but a hand that smelt of sweat and something coppery covered my mouth, putting a finger to his lips. My eyes narrowed as he released his hand from my mouth. “What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?” I spouted out angrily as those godsforsaken pair of lilac eyes stared down at me with amusement. “I think I should be asking you that, byka zaldrīzes,” Daemon raised an eyebrow.

“I asked first. How did you even know I was here?” I grumbled, dusting off my dress. The pounding in my chest was so loud I was certain the whole of the Red Keep could hear how much of a terrified wreck I was.

Instead of answering, Daemon reached his hand out to brush at my hair, as I observed him with wary eyes. Then, he flicked my forehead. “Ow! What was that for?” He smirked, “I see you took the armoury entrance, judging from the grime on your face and in your hair.” “And? It was one of the only ways I could get into the passageways without being seen.”

The prince hummed infuriatingly under his breath. “Has anyone ever told you how fond you are of making your life more difficult, byka zaldrīzes?” “Well forgive me, your Grace, but I do not wish to be caught in your apartments trying to sneak into a secret passage. The Red Keep is akin to a vicious beast when it comes to gossip.” The prince let out a triumphant “ha!” as I looked quizzically at him. Had he finally lost his mind?

“Formalities again,” he said, delighted, “I was hoping that yesterday’s episode in the throne room was not the last I would hear of you addressing me formally.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “My question remains unanswered. How did you know I was in here?” The prince snorted. “I think every one of those lickspittles in the small council heard your laugh. I was the only one to recognise it however.”

I huffed. “Well thank the gods it was just you. Had it been the Hand-”

“That cunt is too busy licking my brother’s boots to seek you out, byka zaldrīzes,” Daemon teased, beginning to walk away. Rolling my eyes once again, I followed closely after. “I’m surprised you still remember the entrances. I was of the impression you would get lost if you ever came here again..” “From how many times you dragged me through these hallways to go catch a peak of King Jaehaerys and Prince Baelon in council sessions, it would take me a century to forget these halls.” I japed, as we rounded a corner that took us straight into an old closet in Daemon’s chambers. As we stumbled out, he settled down on his bed with a sigh of relief, and began to remove his armour. I crossed my arms as I leaned against the window, “There is still a lady here, your Grace.” “I don’t see any ladies, only a nosy bird.” “Hilarious.”

I averted my eyes as Daemon began to remove the gold cloak slung behind his shoulders. “I heard you crippled half the smallfolk.” “An exaggeration,” Daemon waved his hand dismissively. “And if so, they were criminals. Looters. Rapers. Petty thieves.” “And yet, you killed numerous innocents in your path to slaughter those criminals.” I said quietly.

Daemon was silent for a while, and I thought he had left to take a bath. But I was startled yet again when I felt a finger softly tilting my chin upward. Lilac eyes swirling with mild annoyance and mirth met my pensive (Y/E/C) ones. “Spare me the reprimand, Y/N. My brother and Lord Cunttower have already said more than enough.” He handed me a wet cloth, and I sighed before brushing it across his face, getting rid of the grime. Our dynamic has not changed since childhood, I mused internally. I walked away to dump the grime covered cloth in a basket for the servants to collect later.

“Do you not agree with my actions?” He motioned me to sit next to him on his bed. Wordlessly, I sat. Our eyes met, his searching mine for my reaction. “The violence was unwarranted,” I began delicately, watching Daemon’s eyes narrow. “However, I’d like to think the ends justify the means. I share Lord Corlys’ view on this matter.”

Daemon leaned back on his bedpost with a smile. “As I thought, you were more sensible than you looked.” His voice rose in volume as he ran a hand through his white blonde locks in frustration. “Pray tell, I just do not understand why my brother only sees the bad, and not the good. Even a mere lady like you could understand. Has that cunt of a Hand pulled the wool over my brother’s eyes so far that he is blind to the welfare of his city?”

Not receiving a response, he looked over at the Lady Tyrell. She sat there, eyes fixed to the ground, her mouth set in a thin line, her hands clasped in her lap. “Y/N?” “And begging your pardon, what exactly does ‘being a mere lady’ supposed to entail?”

Daemon had a slight hunch he might have made a mistake. “I was not implying anyth-” “Really?” Y/N interrupted sharply. “Or did you just consider my wits inferior to yours simply because I am a woman?”    

She stood abruptly, curtsying as she did. “Forgive me, my prince, I have other matters to attend to. If you have had enough of this mere lady’s presence, I shall be off lest a servant discovers us and sets tongues wagging.” She walked briskly out of the room, before Daemon could even formulate a response. Daemon stared at her retreating figure, and he groaned in frustration as he removed the last of his armour. His words had come out unintentionally, and he had not intended to insult her. Why was she so offended by them?

He huffed as soon as he had the thought. Why was it of any concern? He cared not for what that annoying brat thought of him. Sighing, he got up to ready himself for another visit to Flea’s Bottom. He had not seen Mysaria for a time.

translation: byka zaldrīzes: little dragon 

And that’s chapter 2! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :)) Since chapter 2 was a little bit of a filler chap, chapter 3 should hopefully be released in about three days (as soon as I get that presentation that has been the source of my torment over the past few days on Tuesday done lol)  Let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 💗

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish​ 

[thegreengnome]

Hey you! I saw you are taking on requests and I had this idea of Aemond x reader after the war ended, the greens won and they are trying to rebuild their relationship post-Alys (basically reader found about her and since then she was just brokenhearted, bitter and hating on him). Maybe they also lost something during the conflict, like the reader losing a pregnancy due to the news of Alys or such. She is very cold to him and he tries to make things better and rebuild what he destroyed. Please please feel free to exclude anything you don't feel comfortable writing or play with this idea however you want, modify etc. Thank you so much if you write it and I hope we see more of your talent soon because I loveeeddd your pieces (especially the Alicent one, holy mollyy) :X:X

I hope you like it!

The war was finally over and it had been for several weeks, yet Y/N Targaryen still often caught herself looking over her shoulder- for what? She did not know but Y/N knew from experience that danger lurked around the red keep at every corner and could strike at her at any moment. Y/N would not let that happen again.

To some she may seem paranoid but Y/N felt safer within herself after accomplishing her nightly rituals. These consisted of checking over her shoulder as she walked around the red keep, once inside her chamber’s Y/N would push a large chair over to the door, pushing it up against the handle, and she would make sure that she slept on the side of the bed closer to the secret alleyway, just in case she needed to escape.

Once safely in her chambers with the chair blocking the door, Y/N felt like she could finally breath. Removing her jewellery, she places them down on her dressing table. Y/N no longer felt safe around the staff and would dress and undress herself due to this. She no longer trusted them, not after Alys.

A knock startled the lady, the ring clutched in her dainty hand dropping to her vanity with a clunk.

“Who-who is it?” Y/N timidly asked. Before the war timid was not a word often used to describe the fiery women.

“It is Aemond my love”

Y/N barley kept her scoff in ‘my love’ what a jest.

“What is it that you need, my prince?”

The formality stung him as he attempts to push the door open but finds it blocked “May I come in?”

“No”

The pushing stopped momentarily before starting back up again. “Please, my love. I only wish to see you”

Ignoring her husband Y/N continues to remove her jewellery, all but one ring. A simple band of gold. A name transcribed inside – a name she would never forget. Badric.

Finally gaining traction Aemond pushes the offending furniture out of his way. Y/N does not relent in her effort to ignore the man. Steadfast in her decision to freeze the man out.

Aemond takes note of the wooden toys still in the corner of the chambers. He had them commissioned once the news of Y/N’s pregnancy had been confirmed. The chair that he had pushed away had a small child’s blanket thrown over it. The one his sweet sister had cross stitched with dragons.

The room seemed to have stopped in time. It made his heart hurt.

His wife. His wonderful wife stood before him. A shadow of her former self. Her face gaunt and hollow her hair thinning. This woman was not his love.

What had he done.

“My love. It is only midday, and I know you have not eaten yet”

Midday? That could not be right. Y/N knows it can not be. She was getting ready for bed; it must be nighttime.

The debate in her mind distracted her enough so that Aemond could approach.

The squeak she let out startled them both. Turning abruptly, she faces Aemond “Is it truly midday?”

Aemond wordlessly nods. His hands aching to hold her, to bring her close and to comfort her.

“oh”

Aemond could not bare this. The women that inspired him could not even look him in the eye.

He knew that it was his fault. Completely and utterly his fault. He had hurt her.

Alys was a name he wished could be scrubbed from everything around him. But even after everything had ended, he could still see Alys infecting his wife. Changing her, taking her soul from her until all that was left was this empty husk

He had killed men, some no older than boys but he regretted none of that, it was war and war brought out the worst in everyone. But Alys was a different story. He had been lonely, having been away from Y/N and their son for months. Y/N was not there but Alys was.

Y/N was never meant to know, but of course once Aegon had something over his brother, he relished in using it against him.

Then there was Badric. His boy. Only one name day old and already the best thing in both his parents’ lives. Aemond had no idea what his mistress was capable.

With word that the greens had won, Aemond was allowed to head home. He was relived to go back to the red keep and be with his wife and son.

Alys did not take the news of his departure well. Y/N was a threat to her and to Aemonds child that grew within her.

A plan was formed, she would take her place next to Aemond and with Aegon out of the way she would be queen and her son king. The lady wife and child would have to go. It was the only way.

Y/N had always felt safe in the red keep, surround by her family and the guards.

A new maid, two steaming cups placed Infront of Y/N and her son, one filled with sweet tea the other warmed up goats milk and everything had changed. While Y/N recovered, Badric did not.

Aemond knew that his actions had led to the death of not only his child but his wife as well.

If it took him years to achieve, Aemond would do everything in his power to help his wife. To see her feel safe once again in her own home and to help her grieve for the child that they both lost.