#instead of the the light dragon . what if we had the dragon of the wild !!!

[soul-of-rei]

OOH ROTATING MY OWN TOTK ROLESWAP AU

[blues824]

Malleus Draconia and #4

You requested: Gift Giving

Malleus Draconia

When you invited him to Ramshackle, he was beyond excited. You told him to dress comfortably, but we all know that he dressed up in fancy dress pants and a white button-up shirt, black belt to top it off as well as dress shoes adorning his feet. It was his version of ‘comfortable’, because he’s not in his full leather dorm uniform.

You, in contrast, were in sweatpants and a black t-shirt. It was one of his undershirts, actually, and it was quite large on you. However, you being drowned in his cologne was something he definitely could get used to, especially since you would sometimes sniff at the collar to get a whiff of his trademark scent. It made his draconic instincts go wild.

Anyway, you both sat in the living room of the dilapidated dormitory, Grim sleeping in your bedroom. You had made an agreement with the cat-monster, sliding him 4 whole cans of fancy tuna in exchange for no interruptions with your date with Malleus, and he shook your hand, said “pleasure doing business with you”, and went upstairs.

The lights were turned down low, instead being replaced by the lights strung on the tree and all throughout the room. The atmosphere was intimate, and you sat between Malleus’s legs, leaning your back into his chest.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his arms wrapped around your shoulders. His skin was cold, but the close proximity made warmth bloom in your heart. He was placing feather-light kisses upon your collarbone, not marking you, but not close to letting you go either.

“Malleus, I got you a present, but you’re going to have to let me go so I can get it,” You whispered, turning your head to the side so that you could move your eyes to catch a glimpse of his emerald green eyes.

“And what if I never want to let you go, darling?” He whispered back, pulling away from the crook in your neck.

“You won’t ever have to. However, I do want to give you something, and I do need to get up and get it,” A smile and a laugh made their way to your lips as his arms tightened their hold on you, and you brought your hands up to them, while placing a kiss on his lips, albeit at an awkward angle. Then, he let you go.

Quickly, you scrambled over to the coffee table, reaching over to grab the gift box and crawling back to your safe space: the dragon prince currently sitting on the floor of your living room.

As you leaned back into him, you held the box in your hands for him to reach around you and open it, and he smiled when he saw that it was a framed picture of you both. It was a silhouette picture of him bridal-carrying you, and he remembers that day:

You both were on a walk as the sun was setting, and you quickly stopped and said that you wanted to take a picture. When discussing what pose you should do, he proposed the idea of picking you up into his arms. You agreed, and you set the timer, and you jumped into his arms.

It was a memory that would seem insignificant to most, but to you both, it was a treasure that could never be replaced.

“I believe I have something for you as well, Child of Man. It will be okay if you refuse it at first, as I know it’s still fairly early in our courtship, but I wanted you to know how much you mean to me,” With that preface, he used his magic to whip out a small green box. He held it for you to take, and you carefully opened it to reveal an emerald.

It was almost glowing, and it had you entranced.

“This is the heart of my hoard… or it was until you came into my life. The heart of a dragon’s hoard is its most precious treasure. Accepting it means you become my mate. I know that you are still young in your years, but I want you to have it eventually, if not right now. I want to see you wearing it around your neck so that I and everyone else knows you are my mate.”

Tears were brimming up in your eyes as you gently lifted the gem out of the foam, and you turned fully so that you could face the man that you loved with all your heart.

You placed it back in the box before nodding your head ‘yes’ and going in for a kiss, him meeting you halfway.

This was just the beginning of something wonderful, and you both could feel it.

[rosadreams]

LILIA VANROUGE is the definition of "people change over time"

In Diasomnia chapter 4, we learnt that Lilia never intended to start a family, let alone taking care of children. He seems to dread taking care of Malleus since he had a hunch that Maleanor will push the baby sitting duty to him. He even expressed his discontent towards the idea of raising children since they are weak and can't do anything.

When Maleanor asked Lilia to run away with the egg, he doubted his abilities to hatch the egg, since dragon eggs need love and magic from it's parents. It was Maleanor who knocked some sense into Lilia, to which she proudly says " You love me, don't you?" "You, my right hand general, spends so much time with my left hand general like a married couple. How could you not love the child of our blood?"

Lilia reluctantly listened to Maleanor to flee with the egg and leave her as bait to the Silver Owl, and he was even heard protesting about it but Baul had to remind him that the egg is the future king of Briar Valley who is still incapable of protecting itself.

It seems to me that Lilia loved Maleanor and Levan but he did not understand that it's "love", thats why he wasn't sure if the egg would hatch. Lilia even said that he did not care much about what he eat until adopting silver. This can be implied that he probably don't know how to self care. His tone was also quite cold (as compared to the present), addressing Silver, MC and Sebek as human, unlike in the present time where he just addresses everyone by their name; regardless of their race.

Malleus's hatching was delayed quite a few hundred years, it's possible that Lilia spent those amount of time grieving with the loss of his precious friends and trying to sort himself out cause he needs to hatch the egg and raise the child (Malleus is like the last thing holding Lilia together since he's the child of Maleanor and Levan).

When the egg finally hatches, I think that's the period where Lilia had finally accepted the death of his friends, and learnt to move on and understood the meaning of love . Keep in mind that dragon egg hatches with magic AND LOVE between the parents. Lilia probably came to love Malleus like how he did to Maleanor and Levan (platonically).

Fast forward to a hundred years later when Lilia discovered Silver in Wild Rose Castle. To recap on the spell that the 3 fairies casted on Silver, " The prince will go into a deep slumber, until he finally meets the one who loves him " Baby silver probably woke up from his sleep and was crying aggressively when Lilia stepped foot into the castle. When Lilia knew of Silver's identity, he almost wanted to take revenge for his dead friends and kill Silver. I personally think that prime Lilia would do it without any hesitation BUT he stopped himself from doing so, and instead, choose to coo at the baby, bless it with his magic and GAVE HIM A NAME. The name was not because of the hair colour (the reason that he gave to adult Silver), but instead, Lilia wanted Silver to be able to find light in darkness, as a guide in life. Can be implied that Lilia was at complete loss + didn't know what to do when he lost both of his friends and he didn't want Silver to go through that path especially when Silver is the son of Briar Valley's enemy.

Lilia KNEW what he signed himself up for when he decided to adopt Baby Silver. "Can the current me really learn how to love?" I think Lilia was still in doubt of himself back then and was pondering on the topic of Love and emotions so much, he probably wanted to see if he was capable loving of an enemy's son (throw back to the earlier chapters when he said that it's a hassle to have a family cause it would be harder to say goodbye) Yeah sure, Lilia might have made egg Malleus hatched (still not confirmed but I think it's safe to say that it's true for now), but I feel like he wanted to dive deeper to understand humans and the concept of love. Thus, baby silver was adopted and raised in seclusion (probably to avoid the eyes of other faes so that they won't take notice of Silver. They might do smth bad since Silver's biological parents were the reason why Briar Valley is suffering loss)

((Cue Maleficient Move, when Maleficent herself was the one who cursed Aurora but is also the one who broke the curse))

Fast forward to when Baby silver gave Lilia an acorn bracelet, saying that he wants to stay with Lilia forever and wishes him for a long and healthy life.

"Papa, stay healthy and let's always, always and always stay together and forever~"

"Will you pray for my long life? You, the human...."

The human who is related to the person that killed his friend is probably what Lilia wanted to say. However, Lilia only chose to hug Baby silver tightly and says nothing more. Baby silver tells Lilia that he loves him, and Lilia responded with a me too. This is probably the moment when Lilia's heart starts to finally waver by A LOT (since he kept the acorn bracelet for a LONG time and even brought it to NRC).

However, I theorized that the only reason why Lilia never openly called Silver his son and says I love you back is because he was afraid of admitting it. It would explain why Silver's sleeping curse is still on and off since the person who supposedly love him didn't admit it?

Might just be me overthinking this, but I think the loss of Maleanor and Levan made Lilia a little bit more closed off in his emotions. It's not that he can't express his happiness or what, but more of him choosing to hide away his fear (eg the intense fear he felt when he had to leave Maleanor alone to defend herself). He probably felt extremely useless back then, which might make him a little bit terrified of love?

This can be further carried on to the recent timeline when he verbalised his desire to leave and "spent his final moments" in the red dragon country, even though it's just excuses to cover up his loss of magic. He doesn't want to be viewed as weak (especially since his 3 sons looked up to him), cause he might feel "useless" again.

I think that modern Lilia understands love better now (throw back to ghost bride event when he told the bride that what you desire is always the nearest to you; bro knows how the ghost knight feels since he was in his position before) but he still lacks the ability to admit that he loves his 3 sons and cares for them deeply (just hear the way he screams when Malleus overblotted + using his whole body to defend Silver). Prime Lilia would ask them to buck up and do better...

Lilia definitely changed, and I think that's what makes his character interesting. The long of passing of time changed him from someone who is "cold" to someone who has learnt how to love and adapt to changes.

He just needs to learn how to communicate these thoughts to his sons now, seeing how 1 of them has already overblotted while the other is falling into pit darkness.

[novaursa]

Final Part

- Title: zōbrie ānogar

- Rating: Explicit (18+)

- Romance: (Aegon II/OFC)

- Warning: All flags are up for this work. Aegon is also a warning on his own.

- Summary: It was written by Archmaester Gyldayn that on the day Princess Vaella Targaryen was born she was supposed to die. Until she fed upon her twin, Baelon. And when she turned one and five, she sought her end in the lair of Cannibal, in Dragonmont. But instead of feasting upon her, the dragon wept with her. And Archmaester had written a lengthy thesis on how wild dragon recognized a kindred soul in the Princess, as they both dined on their kin.

- Word count: 6 000+

- Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

As Vaella moved deeper into the Dragonpit, her heart ached with bittersweet memories. She passed by Syrax, her sister Rhaenyra's dragon, who gave a hostile snarl at her approach. Vaella's heart broke at the sight. Syrax had often flown her on her back as a child, when Rhaenyra loved to fly with her sister. But those days were long gone.

"Syrax," Vaella whispered, her voice tinged with sorrow. "I wish things could be different."

Tyraxes, the dragon of Rhaenyra's son, huddled behind the larger Syrax. He omitted the same menacing growl, his eyes watching Vaella warily. She forced herself to look away, focusing on the task at hand.

"Come," she urged her men. "We must free the others."

They proceeded deeper into the Dragonpit, where the rest of her loyalists awaited. Shykos and Morghul, the dragons of Helaena's twins, were chained nearby. They were restless, their scales glinting in the dim light. Vaella's own children's dragons, Auroxas and Glazhael, were also present. Auroxas, with his dark, almost black green scales streaked with silver, was already pulling and tearing at the chains that bound him. Glazhael, her scales a lighter green with a bluish tint, watched with striking blue eyes.

"Steady, Auroxas," Vaella murmured, approaching the unruly dragon. "We will free you soon."

The men worked quickly, their hands steady despite the urgency of their mission. One by one, the chains fell away, and the dragons stretched their wings, testing their newfound freedom.

As the last chain fell from Glazhael, Vaella turned to her loyalists. "We must hurry. Once we are airborne, there is no turning back."

Ser William nodded, his expression determined. "Let us go, Your Grace. We have little time."

With the dragons now free, Vaella led her group towards the exit. The massive creatures followed, their powerful forms a reassuring presence. As they neared the outer yard, Vaella's heart raced with a mixture of fear and hope.

"Cannibal," she called softly, and the great dragon emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with recognition. Vaella approached him, her hand gentle on his scales. "It is time."

As she prepared to climb upon Cannibal, the sound of approaching footsteps froze her in place. She turned, her heart sinking as she saw Rhaenyra herself, flanked by soldiers, blocking their path.

"Vaella," Rhaenyra said, her voice cold and filled with anger. "What do you think you are doing?"

Vaella's eyes narrowed, her hand tightening around the hilt of her dagger. "I am taking what is mine. The dragons do not belong in chains, and neither do I."

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her soldiers closing in around her. "You betray me, sister. You betray your family."

"It is you who have betrayed us," Vaella retorted, her voice rising with defiance. "Your rule has brought nothing but suffering. I will not stand by and watch as our family is torn apart."

The tension in the air was palpable, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the ground. The dragons, sensing the hostility, growled and shifted restlessly.

"Stand down, Vaella," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice echoing in the night. "Or face the consequences."

Vaella's heart pounded, her mind racing with the weight of their confrontation. She glanced at her loyalists, their expressions determined and ready for whatever came next.

"Make your choice, sister," Rhaenyra said, her eyes blazing with fury. "But know that there will be no mercy if you continue down this path."

Behind Vaella, Auroxas, sensing the hostility and the distance of his rider, screeched and suddenly propelled himself forward, his powerful legs pushing off the ground. With a massive beat of his wings, he sent everyone tumbling. Dust and debris filled the air as Cannibal roared in response to the chaos, his thunderous voice echoing through the Dragonpit.

Auroxas took to the sky, his dark and silver-streaked scales glinting in the moonlight. His sister, Glazhael, immediately followed, her lighter green scales with a bluish tint shimmering. The two dragons flew off into the dark sky towards the Dragonstone, their forms disappearing into the night.

Soon after, Shykos and Morghul, the dragons of Helaena's twins, took off towards the direction of the Vale, their roars fading into the distance. The sudden departure of the dragons caused a whirlwind of wind and dust, creating further chaos among those on the ground.

Rhaenyra, determined and fueled by anger, managed to get to her feet. She sprinted towards Vaella, her hands outstretched. Vaella tried to mount Cannibal, but Rhaenyra reached her just in time, grabbing her arm with a vice-like grip.

"Vaella, stop this madness!" Rhaenyra shouted, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of roars and clashes. "You don't have to do this!"

Cannibal, unsure of what to do to avoid injuring Vaella, roared more furiously. His massive form shifted, his eyes locked on Rhaenyra. Vaella struggled against her sister's grip, her heart pounding with fear and determination.

"Let me go, Rhaenyra!" Vaella cried, her voice filled with desperation. "This isn't the way!"

Rhaenyra tightened her hold, her expression a mix of anger and sorrow. "You leave me no choice, Vaella. You leave me no choice."

As the sisters struggled, Rhaenyra's soldiers clashed with Vaella's loyalists. The sounds of steel meeting steel filled the air, punctuated by shouts and cries. The ground was littered with fallen men, the night a maelstrom of violence and fury.

Cannibal shifted again, his massive tail sweeping across the ground, creating a barrier between Vaella and Rhaenyra’s soldiers. The dragon’s eyes glinted with barely restrained rage, his roar vibrating through the very stones of the Dragonpit.

"Vaella, get on Cannibal and fly!" Ser William shouted, his sword clashing against an enemy’s blade. "We’ll cover you!"

But Rhaenyra’s grip was unyielding. With a final surge of strength, she pulled Vaella away from Cannibal, dragging her towards her own men. Cannibal, seeing his rider taken, roared in fury, but was unable to act without risking Vaella's life.

"Rhaenyra, please!" Vaella pleaded, her voice breaking. "You don’t have to do this. We can still make things right."

Rhaenyra’s face was set with grim determination. "It’s too late for that, Vaella. This has to end."

As Rhaenyra dragged Vaella to her men, the chaos around them intensified. Vaella's loyalists fought desperately to reach her, but they were outnumbered and overpowered. The clash of swords and the cries of the wounded filled the air, a grim symphony of battle.

Rhaenyra's soldiers quickly shackled Vaella in chains, the cold metal biting into her skin. Vaella's heart sank as she realized the full extent of their defeat. She looked into Rhaenyra’s eyes, seeing a mixture of anger, pain, and regret.

"It’s time this ends, once and for all," Rhaenyra said, her voice cold and final.

Vaella’s heart ached with the weight of their shattered bond. 

…

The next day dawned with a heavy sense of foreboding hanging over King’s Landing. The sun’s first rays cast a pale light over the city, but the streets were already filled with tense whispers and uneasy glances. Rhaenyra Targaryen, desperate to restore order and assert her power, decided to make a public spectacle of judging her sister, Vaella, in the town square.

Rhaenyra hoped that by forcing Vaella to submit and recognize her as the true ruler while denouncing Aegon, she could quell the rising tide of rebellion. The town square was packed with smallfolk, their faces a mix of fear, curiosity, and anger. Rhaenyra stood on a raised platform, her face a mask of grim determination. Syrax, her golden dragon, stood nearby, a formidable symbol of her power and protection.

Vaella was dragged before her, her wrists bound in iron chains. Her face, despite the bruises and weariness, held a defiant spark. The murmurs of the crowd grew louder as they watched the queen they had once loved brought low.

Rhaenyra raised her hand for silence, her voice carrying over the assembly. "People of King’s Landing, I stand before you today to deliver justice. My sister, Vaella Targaryen, has conspired against the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. She has defied the crown and must now answer for her actions."

Vaella lifted her chin, her indigo eyes blazing with defiance. "I have done nothing but fight for what is right. It is you who have brought suffering upon this city.

"Rhaenyra’s expression hardened. "You will denounce Aegon and recognize me as the true ruler, or you will face the consequences."

The crowd held its breath, the tension palpable. Vaella glanced around, meeting the eyes of the smallfolk who had once adored her. She took a deep breath, her voice ringing out clear and strong. "I will never denounce my beloved husband. Aegon II is the one true king!"

A murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. Rhaenyra’s face twisted with anger and desperation. "Vaella, you force my hand. Submit, or face the wrath of Syrax."

Vaella’s eyes locked onto Rhaenyra’s, filled with sorrow and resolve. "You’ve already lost, Rhaenyra. Killing me will not change that."

Rhaenyra’s eyes filled with tears, her voice breaking. "Why do you make me do this? You are my sister. We could have ruled together."

Vaella shook her head. "You chose this path, Rhaenyra. Now live with the consequences."

Rhaenyra’s shoulders shook with silent sobs as she turned to her dragon. "Syrax, obey."

The golden dragon hesitated, its eyes flicking between Rhaenyra and Vaella, sensing the bond of blood and the inner turmoil of its rider. Rhaenyra, voice trembling, repeated the command, her desperation evident. "Syrax, obey."

The dragon let out a low growl, uncertain, but finally reared back, its massive form casting a shadow over the square. The crowd screamed in horror as Syrax unleashed a torrent of flame, engulfing Vaella in a searing blaze.

As the dragon fire consumed her, Vaella did not scream. Instead, her thoughts drifted to her beloved husband, Aegon. She could see his face, his violet eyes filled with love and anguish. She remembered the nights they spent together, wrapped in each other's arms, their whispered words of love and promises for the future.

"Aegon, my love," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the flames.

Her thoughts then turned to their children, Baelor and Daena. She saw Baelor's bright eyes and mischievous smile, heard his laughter echoing in her ears. She pictured Daena's delicate features and soft curls, remembered the feel of her tiny hand in hers.

"Baelor, Daena, my sweet children," she murmured, tears streaming down her face.

And then, she thought of the small babe she had given birth to too early, the child she had seen only for a short while. A tear slipped down her cheek as she remembered holding him, feeling his tiny heartbeat against her chest.

And then there her little prince, slayed in his cradle.

"Aeron, my little Aeron," she whispered, her voice breaking.

In her mind's eye, she saw her twin brother, Baelon, through the flames. His presence was a comfort, a reminder of the bond they shared even in death. He reached out to her, his expression calm and serene.

"Baelon," she breathed, feeling a sense of peace wash over her.

Above the roar of the flames, she heard the mournful wail of her dragon, Cannibal. The bond they shared was strong, and she could feel his sorrow as if it were her own. Yet, even in her final moments, there was a sense of relief, as if a great weight was being lifted from her shoulders.

"I will be with you soon, my brother," she thought, her consciousness beginning to fade.

As the fire consumed her, Vaella felt the pain recede, replaced by a profound sense of calm. Her last conscious thought was of her family, the love they shared, and the hope that they would one day be reunited.

And then, there was nothing.

Syrax lowered its head, its jaws closing around Vaella’s charred remains. The dragon consumed her, the spectacle sending waves of shock and revulsion through the gathered masses. As the last echoes of the horrific scene faded, a profound silence fell over the square.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind and the crackle of dying embers. Then, as if in unison, the smallfolk erupted in a furious roar. Shouts of anger and curses filled the air, their cries condemning Rhaenyra for the murder of their beloved queen.

"You monster!" a woman screamed, tears streaming down her face.

"She was our queen!" a man shouted, shaking his fist in fury.

"Down with the usurper!" another voice rang out, sparking a wave of rebellious chants.

Rhaenyra stood frozen, her heart pounding with a mixture of grief and fear. The rebellion she had hoped to quash now burned hotter than ever. The smallfolk surged forward, their anger turning into violence as they clashed with the guards trying to maintain order.

Rhaenyra backed away, her eyes wide with the realization of her mistake. Syrax roared, sensing the rising threat, but even the presence of the dragon could not quell the fury of the people.

As the chaos erupted around her, Rhaenyra’s tears flowed freely. She had lost her sister, her people's trust, and perhaps her claim to the throne. The path she had chosen had led to this moment, and now, the full weight of her decisions crushed her.

…

The storm that followed the execution of Vaella Targaryen was unlike anything King's Landing had ever seen. The death of the beloved queen at the hands of Rhaenyra's dragon Syrax sent shockwaves through the city, and the simmering discontent of the smallfolk boiled over into outright rebellion. The city was ablaze with fury, and their target was clear: the Dragonpit.

Vaella's dragons had mourned her passing in their own ways. Cannibal, her wild and fiercely loyal dragon, had let out mournful wails that echoed through the city, a haunting symphony of loss. But the day before the storming of the Dragonpit, Cannibal flew away, disappearing into the horizon, his sorrow too great to be contained.

The mob, spurred on by the fervent rantings of the Shepherd, a crazed zealot, surged towards the Dragonpit atop the Hill of Rhaenys. Their goal was clear: they sought vengeance on Syrax, the dragon who had consumed their beloved queen, and Tyraxes, the dragon of Rhaenyra's son, Joffrey.

As the mob grew, Prince Joffrey, mounted on a horse, rode through the chaos-stricken streets. Whether he intended to ride into battle or reach the Dragonpit to save his dragon, Tyraxes, was unknown. Fearful for her son's safety, Rhaenyra ordered a rescue mission.

"Bring him back to the castle," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice shaking with fear and desperation. "Do whatever it takes, but bring him back."

Ser Medrick Manderly, Ser Loreth Lansdale, Ser Harrold Darke, Ser Harmon of the Reeds, Ser Gyles Yronwood, Ser Willam Royce, and Ser Glendon Goode—along with six squires, eight gold cloaks, and twenty men-at-arms—rode forth from the Red Keep. They fought their way through the streets, the sounds of battle and the cries of the angry mob filling the air.

Joffrey, however, was unable to remain on horseback. The enraged mob pulled him down, their hands tearing at him with savage fury. The Seven Who Rode arrived to find the mob cutting his body to pieces. With desperate determination, they managed to reclaim every part of him except for a foot.

"Get him out of here!" Ser Medrick shouted, his voice hoarse with emotion. "We can't let them desecrate him any further.

"As they retreated, carrying the remains of the prince, the City Watch marched forth from their barracks at the Dragon Gate to defend the Hill of Rhaenys. But the sheer force of the mob was unstoppable. Less than fifty Dragonkeepers stood guard the second night of the riots. Though they defended the Dragonpit with all the strength they had, the enraged masses eventually smashed through the doors of the Dragonpit's lesser entrances using crude rams and axes. Others climbed in through windows, their eyes wild with hatred and vengeance.

The Dragonkeepers fought bravely, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. One by one, they fell, their blood mingling with the dust and debris of the besieged Dragonpit. Syrax and Tyraxes roared in defiance, their fiery breath scorching the invaders, but it was not enough. The mob's sheer numbers overwhelmed them.

"Push forward!" screamed the Shepherd, his voice a beacon of fanaticism. "Destroy the beasts!"

The mob surged, and soon the Dragonpit was filled with the sounds of the dying dragons. Syrax fell first, her massive form crashing to the ground with a final, desperate roar. Tyraxes followed, his cries echoing in the night as the life was brutally torn from him.

The next morning, the aftermath was stark and brutal. The bodies of the fallen dragons and their keepers littered the Dragonpit. The fires had burned down, leaving a smoldering ruin in their wake. The smell of death hung heavy in the air.

Rhaenyra stood in the throne room, her face pale and drawn with grief. The loss of her son and their dragons was a blow from which she could not recover. Her rule had brought nothing but death and destruction, and now the very people she had sought to rule were in open rebellion against her.

"We must leave," said Ser Loreth Lansdale, his voice filled with urgency. "The city is lost. We cannot hold it any longer."

Rhaenyra nodded, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "You are right. Gather those who are still loyal. We leave at first light."

As the dawn broke over King's Landing, Rhaenyra, now a shadow of the queen she once was, prepared to flee the city. She moved through the corridors of the Red Keep, her steps heavy with sorrow. Her remaining loyalists gathered, ready to make their escape.

"Your Grace," Ser Harrold Darke said softly, "we will protect you. We will find a way through this."

Rhaenyra nodded, her eyes hollow with grief. "Thank you, Ser Harrold. We must survive. For the sake of what remains."

With a final glance at the throne that had cost her so dearly, Rhaenyra and her loyalists slipped out of the city. The once-proud queen now fled like a hunted animal, the echoes of rebellion and the screams of the smallfolk ringing in her ears.

As they disappeared into the dawn, the city of King's Landing remained a smoldering ruin, a testament to the cost of power and the fragility of rule. The death of Vaella had sparked a fire that consumed everything in its path, leaving nothing but ashes and sorrow in its wake.

…

The first light of dawn brought a sorrowful stillness to Dragonstone. The air was heavy with grief, the very walls of the ancient castle seeming to echo the despair within. Aegon II Targaryen, bedridden and weakened, was shattered by the loss of his infant son Baelon. The child's fragile life had flickered out in the early hours of the morning, leaving a void that could never be filled.

Aegon's screams of anguish echoed through the castle, a haunting cry that sent shivers down the spines of all who heard it. His wails of despair carried through the corridors, reaching every corner of Dragonstone. Servants and guards alike bowed their heads, sharing in the king's grief.

"Baelon!" Aegon cried, his voice breaking. "My son, my precious boy!"

By the time Maester Gerardys was brought before Aegon, the bedridden king's fury had reached a fever pitch. The news of Vaella's gruesome end, alongside the betrayal of Ser Alfred Broome, had pushed him to the edge of madness. The queen's death, in such a horrific manner, had shattered any remaining semblance of restraint Aegon might have had.

"Your Grace," Gerardys began, his voice trembling with fear and regret. "I... I am so sorry for your loss. Please, I beg of you, understand that I had no part in this."

Aegon's eyes, filled with rage and grief, bore into Gerardys. "Liar!" he spat. "You were supposed to protect my son, my wife, my family! And now, they are gone!"

Ser Alfred Broome, his face pale with the realization of the consequences, stood by the door, unable to meet Aegon's gaze. "Your Grace, please, hear him out. There must be some explanation."

Aegon's voice was cold and unyielding. "There is no explanation that can bring back my son. No words that can undo the betrayal that has cost me everything."

With a sudden, violent motion, Aegon gestured to the guards. "Seize him!"

The guards moved quickly, grabbing the terrified maester and forcing him to his knees before the king. Gerardys pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. "Your Grace, I beg you, have mercy. I have served House Targaryen faithfully. Please, I did not betray you!"

Aegon's face twisted with fury. "Mercy? Mercy is for those who deserve it. You have failed me, Gerardys. You have failed my family."

The king's hands trembled with rage as he spoke. "Strangle him. Make him suffer."

The guards obeyed, their faces set with grim determination. Gerardys's pleas turned to choked gasps as the life was slowly squeezed from him. Aegon's eyes never left the maester's face, his own expression one of cold, unrelenting hatred.

When Gerardys finally fell silent, his body lifeless, Aegon ordered the next, even more gruesome part of his punishment. "Disembowel him. Let Sunfyre feast on his legs and innards."

The gruesome task was carried out with mechanical efficiency. Sunfyre, sensing the fresh meat, descended with a roar, his golden scales glinting in the dim light. The dragon tore into the maester's remains, his powerful jaws crunching through bone and sinew.

Aegon's heart was a storm of fury and grief. The sight of Sunfyre feasting on the man who had failed him brought a twisted sense of satisfaction. But it did nothing to ease the pain of his losses. Nothing could."

Put his head and upper torso on display at the gatehouse," Aegon ordered, his voice hollow. "Let it be a warning to Rhaenyra. Let her see what awaits her when she returns."

The guards, though horrified, obeyed without question. Gerardys's mutilated remains were placed at the gatehouse, a macabre sentinel awaiting the queen's eventual return. The gruesome display was a testament to Aegon's descent into madness, a chilling symbol of his broken heart and shattered mind.

As the day wore on, the weight of Aegon's grief pressed down on the castle. The loss of Baelon, the betrayal by those he trusted, and the horrific death of his beloved Vaella had left him a broken man. He lay in his bed, his body trembling with silent sobs, his mind haunted by the ghosts of his loved ones.

"Vaella," he whispered into the empty room, his voice raw with pain. "My love, my queen. I will avenge you. I will make them all pay."

Dragonstone stood as a fortress of grief and fury, the echoes of Aegon's screams reverberating through its halls. The king's heart was a cauldron of rage, his soul consumed by the fire of vengeance. And as the sun set on that sorrowful day, the castle seemed to mourn with him, its ancient stones weeping for the tragedy that had befallen the House of the Dragon.

…

The Violande sailed through the choppy waters towards Dragonstone, carrying Rhaenyra Targaryen to what she hoped would be a refuge after her desperate flight from King's Landing. But instead of sanctuary, she found betrayal. Upon her arrival, she was swiftly taken captive by Ser Alfred Broome and the greens who awaited her.

Rhaenyra was dragged through the cold, stone corridors of Dragonstone, her hands bound and her heart heavy with the weight of the war's losses. Aegon II Targaryen, bedridden and consumed by a fiery rage, awaited her in the grand hall. His face was a mask of fury, grief, and madness, his eyes burning with a hatred stoked by the deaths of his loved ones and the betrayal of those he trusted.

"Aegon," Rhaenyra said, her voice steady despite the fear and sorrow in her heart. "I came here seeking refuge, not a battlefield."

Aegon’s eyes narrowed, his voice cold as ice. "Refuge? You seek refuge after all that you have done? After you’ve torn this family apart, after Vaella, after Baelon, and after Aeron?" His voice broke at the mention of his sons.

Rhaenyra's face softened, tears welling up in her eyes. "I never wanted this war, Aegon. I never wanted the deaths, the bloodshed. We could have ruled together, united our family."

"United?" Aegon spat, his anger boiling over. "You brought nothing but death and ruin. You took everything from me. Vaella, Baelon, Aeron... my wife and sons!"

Tears streamed down Rhaenyra’s face. "They were my family too, Aegon. I lost them as well."

The room fell silent, the weight of their shared grief and regret hanging heavily in the air. For a moment, it seemed as if there might be a chance for reconciliation, a path towards peace. But the fury in Aegon's heart was too great.

With a voice filled with rage, Aegon gave the command. "Ser Alfred, bring her closer."

Ser Alfred Broome stepped forward, his face a mask of determination. He grabbed Rhaenyra and forced her to her knees before Aegon. Drawing a dagger, he pricked her breast, the sharp blade cutting through the fabric and skin. The smell of blood filled the air, rousing Sunfyre who stood nearby, his golden eyes gleaming with hunger and anticipation.

Rhaenyra looked up at Aegon, her voice filled with a calm resolve. "If you are to kill me, then do it. But spare my son Viserys. He is innocent in all of this."

Aegon's face twisted with fury. "Innocent? Just like Aeron was innocent? Slain in his cradle by your assassins? Your pleas mean nothing to me, Rhaenyra."

Her eyes met his, unwavering. "Then let my death be the end of it. Let him live."

Aegon’s eyes burned with rage and sorrow, his voice a deadly whisper. "There will be no mercy for you. You will meet the same fate as my Vaella."

With a roar, Sunfyre unleashed a blast of flame, engulfing Rhaenyra in a searing inferno. Her screams filled the hall, a sound of pure agony and despair. The fire burned away her defiance, leaving only pain and terror.

Sunfyre closed his massive jaws around Rhaenyra's arm and shoulder, tearing her flesh and bone. The dragon devoured her in six bites, his powerful jaws reducing her to nothing but a few remnants. All that remained was her left leg below the shin, a stark and gruesome reminder of her fate.

The hall fell silent, the echoes of her screams lingering in the air. Aegon watched with a cold, unfeeling gaze, his heart a barren wasteland of sorrow and rage. The sight of Sunfyre feasting on Rhaenyra brought no satisfaction, only a hollow emptiness.

Ser Alfred, his face pale and eyes wide with the horror of what had just transpired, turned to Aegon. "Your Grace, it is done. She is gone."

Aegon nodded, his voice devoid of emotion. "Prepare her remains. Let them be displayed as a warning to any who would defy me."

As the remains were taken away, Aegon slumped back in his chair, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. The hall, once filled with the promise of power and unity, was now a tomb of shattered dreams and lost hope.

Outside, the sky darkened, a storm brewing on the horizon. The castle of Dragonstone stood as a silent witness to the end of the Dance of the Dragons, its ancient stones echoing with the cries of the past.

Aegon II Targaryen, king in name but broken in spirit, sat alone, the ghosts of his family haunting his every thought. The throne he had fought so hard to claim was now a bitter reminder of all that he had lost. And as the storm raged outside, he knew that the true cost of power was one he could never repay.

…

With the death of Rhaenyra Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen took the Iron Throne, but his reign was short-lived. The pain from his shattered legs and the overwhelming grief for his wife Vaella and their children weighed heavily on him. Within a year, Aegon was found dead in his chambers. Septon Eustace claimed that the king had been poisoned, while Maester Gyldayn suggested that Aegon had taken his own life, unable to bear the physical pain and the emotional torment of his losses. 

"He was a broken man," Maester Gyldayn wrote. "The pain in his limbs and body was nothing compared to the love and yearning he held for his dead wife, Vaella."

Aegon II was succeeded by his son Baelor, who took the throne as King Baelor I. In an effort to bring stability and peace to the realm, Baelor wed Helaena's and Aemond’s daughter, Jaehaera. This union was seen as a symbol of reconciliation and hope for the future of House Targaryen.

Baelor's sister, Daena, was wed to Rhaenyra's and Daemon's son, Viserys, in another strategic marriage aimed at healing the rift between the factions of their family. This marriage was instrumental in creating a sense of unity and easing tensions that had plagued the realm during the Dance of the Dragons.

The known dragons that survived the conflict—Dreamfyre, Sunfyre, Morghul, Shykos, Auroxas, Glazhael, and Silverwing—became symbols of the resilience of House Targaryen. Cannibal, the wild dragon, was last seen flying off from Dragonstone, never to be seen again. Archmaester Gyldayn later wrote that on the day Vaella Targaryen was born, she was supposed to die until she fed upon her twin, Baelon. When she turned one and five, she sought her end in the lair of Cannibal in Dragonmont. But instead of feasting upon her, the dragon wept with her. Archmaester Gyldayn's thesis posited that the wild dragon recognized a kindred soul in Vaella, as they both dined on their kin. However, no one ever truly understood the bond between Vaella and Cannibal, nor why her infant son Baelon died almost the exact moment she was burned and eaten by Syrax.

Alicent Hightower, the Dowager Queen, remained by the side of her grandchildren and her daughter Helaena until her death. Her influence was a stabilizing force in the court, and she worked tirelessly to ensure the safety and security of her family.

King Baelor I's reign was marked by a concerted effort to rebuild and restore the realm. His marriage to Jaehaera and the alliance with Viserys and Daena helped to solidify the Targaryen hold on the throne. Baelor was a just and wise ruler, known for his efforts to heal the wounds of the war and to promote peace and prosperity throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

The surviving dragons played a crucial role in maintaining the power and prestige of House Targaryen. Their presence served as a reminder of the might and majesty of the Targaryen dynasty, even as the number of dragons began to dwindle over the years.

Archmaester Gyldayn's writings on Vaella and Cannibal became a topic of much debate and fascination. His thesis, which suggested a deep and mysterious bond between the princess and the wild dragon, captivated scholars and dragonkeepers alike. The idea that Vaella's infant son Baelon died at the exact moment she was consumed by Syrax added another layer of intrigue to the tragic story.

"No one can truly understand the bond between Vaella and Cannibal," Gyldayn wrote. "But it is clear that their connection was profound and beyond the comprehension of mortal men."

The lords of the North, led by House Stark, had pledged their support to Rhaenyra during the Dance of the Dragons. However, the harsh winter that followed prevented them from marching south. By the time the snows melted, the war was over, and the realm had a new king. The Starks, ever pragmatic, accepted the new order and focused on rebuilding their own lands.

The changes wrought by the Dance of the Dragons and its aftermath had a lasting impact on Westeros. When Robert Baratheon rose in rebellion against the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen, the realm was once again thrown into chaos. However, the alliances and marriages that had been forged in the wake of the Dance provided a stronger foundation for House Targaryen to resist the rebellion.

King Robert I Baratheon eventually claimed the Iron Throne, but the Targaryens, with their remaining dragons and the legacy of their united house, remained a formidable force. The scars of the Dance of the Dragons were still felt, but the resilience and adaptability of House Targaryen ensured their continued influence and presence in the Seven Kingdoms.

The legacy of Vaella Targaryen and Aegon II was one of tragedy and resilience. Their love story, marred by betrayal and loss, became the subject of songs and tales throughout the realm. Their efforts to heal the wounds of their family and their ultimate sacrifices left an indelible mark on the history of Westeros.

The Iron Throne, though bloodied and contested, remained a symbol of the power and determination of House Targaryen. And as long as dragons flew in the skies of Westeros, the memory of Vaella and Aegon, and the lessons of the Dance of the Dragons, would never be forgotten.

…

In the Red Keep, a golden light streamed through the windows and delicate blinds, bathing the room in an ethereal glow. The bedchamber of Aegon II and Vaella Targaryen was transformed into a sanctum of warmth and vitality, a stark contrast to the often cold and somber atmosphere of their world. It was as if they had stepped into a timeless realm where pain and scars could no longer touch them.

Aegon and Vaella were entangled in a passionate embrace, their bodies moving with an almost feverish intensity. Vaella's long, pale blonde hair, intricately braided, cascaded over the pillows like a river of moonlight. Her indigo eyes were half-closed, filled with a mix of desire and love. Aegon's hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of her soft skin as if he were memorizing her all over again.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps, and the room echoed with the sounds of their lovemaking. The connection between them was palpable, each touch and kiss igniting a fire that seemed unquenchable. Vaella's full lips parted in a moan of pleasure as Aegon’s mouth found her neck, his kisses sending shivers down her spine.

"Aegon," she whispered, her voice a mix of longing and contentment. "Never let me go."

"Never," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. "You are my everything, Vaella."

Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, a dance as old as time itself. The intensity of their passion built to a crescendo, and as they reached the peak of their shared ecstasy, the world seemed to blur around them. In that moment, nothing else existed but the two of them, their love a blazing beacon in the golden light.

In the aftermath, they lay entwined in each other’s arms, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts beating as one. Vaella’s head rested on Aegon's chest, and she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a sound that had always brought her comfort.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I wish this could last forever," she said, her fingers tracing the lines of his face. "That we would never be separated from one another."

Aegon laughed softly, the sound like music in the luminous room. "Forever is a long time, my love," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "But in this moment, we have eternity."

Vaella sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to him. "It feels like a dream," she said. "A beautiful dream that I never want to wake up from."

Aegon kissed her forehead tenderly. "Then let's stay in this dream a little longer," he whispered. "Let's forget the world and just be us."

They lay in silence for a while, the golden light washing over them, filling the room with an almost magical glow. It was a moment of perfect peace, a rare treasure in their tumultuous lives. Vaella closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of Aegon's embrace, the feel of his heart beating in time with hers.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Aegon watching her, his expression one of pure adoration. "What is it?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Just thinking about how lucky I am," he replied, his fingers trailing down her arm. "To have you by my side, to share this life with you."

Vaella’s heart swelled with love. "And I with you," she said softly. "No matter what happens, we will always have each other."

Aegon nodded, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Always," he agreed, pulling her closer. "In this life and the next."

As they lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside ceased to matter. In that sunlit room, they had found their own slice of paradise, a place where love reigned supreme and time stood still. And for that brief, shining moment, they were truly, completely happy.

…

King Baelor I sat alone in the grand hall of the Red Keep, his mind drifting back to memories of his parents. The hall, illuminated by the flickering light of numerous candles, seemed almost alive with shadows, dancing to the rhythm of his thoughts. Though he wore the crown of the Seven Kingdoms, his heart was heavy with the weight of remembrance.

Baelor absentmindedly traced the deep scar running from his mouth to his ear, a constant reminder of the day his world had irrevocably changed. The day the assassins came, sent by his aunt Rhaenyra and Daemon, was seared into his memory. They had almost killed him and had taken his infant brother Aeron from him. That wound had left a mark not only on his face but on his soul.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. His parents, Aegon II and Vaella Targaryen, were a vivid presence in his mind. Despite the tumult and bloodshed of the Dance of the Dragons, they had always been a source of strength and love.

Baelor remembered his mother, Vaella, with her long, pale blonde hair that she wore in elaborate braids, her full lips, and her indigo eyes. She was said to be extraordinarily beautiful, but to him, she was more than that. She was warmth, kindness, and an unbreakable spirit. He could still hear her laughter, a sound that had brought light into the darkest of days.

One memory stood out among the rest. He was a young boy, perhaps five years old, and he had wandered into his parents' bedchamber. The room was filled with golden light streaming through the windows, and there they were, his parents, wrapped in each other’s arms, laughing and talking in hushed tones. They had looked so happy, so alive.

His father, Aegon II, had noticed him first. "Baelor," he had called out with a smile, his voice filled with warmth. "Come here, my boy."

Baelor had run to his father, climbing onto the bed. Aegon had lifted him effortlessly, holding him close. "What brings you here, my little dragon?"

"I wanted to see you," Baelor had replied, his small hands reaching for his mother.

Vaella had kissed his forehead, her touch gentle and soothing. "And we are always glad to see you, my love."

They had spent that afternoon together, playing and talking, forgetting for a moment the chaos that surrounded them. It was one of the few times Baelor had seen his parents so at peace, and it was a memory he cherished deeply.

Now, as he sat alone, he felt the pang of their absence. They had been taken from him too soon, victims of a brutal war for the throne. Yet, their love and their strength had shaped him into the man he had become. A king who valued peace, who sought to heal the wounds of the past.

Baelor rose from his seat and walked to the window. The city below was quiet, a stark contrast to the storm that raged within him. He knew he carried his parents' legacy with him, a legacy of resilience and love.

His marriage to Jaehaera, Helaena's and Aemond's daughter, was also a testament to that legacy. They were working together to rebuild the realm, to bring about a new era of peace and prosperity. It was not an easy task, but he was determined to honor his parents' memory by creating a better future for their descendants.

As the night wore on, Baelor found solace in his memories. They were a reminder of the love that had given him life, the love that still guided him. His parents may have been taken from him, but their spirit lived on in him, in every decision he made, in every step he took.

"Mother, Father," he whispered into the night, "I hope I am making you proud."

And with that, King Baelor I turned away from the window, ready to face the challenges of his reign, knowing that the strength and love of Aegon II and Vaella Targaryen were always with him.

[sarnai4]

Betrayal

I was going to make this a fun post, but then I discovered that there are Dagur gifs on here and...yeah, that light topic didn't happen. So, here goes a little sad something.

I think these frames of animation are very interesting. Actually, this entire scene is to me. It's in "The Night and the Fury" and is right after Dagur learns that Hiccup lied. I love how this occurred because it would have been so easy to just have him be like, "You have dragons? Okay, now I'm about to kill you." They didn't do that, though. Even as Dagur is connecting the dots, he harps on the fact that a lie was told. "Your father lied to me...YOU lied to me!" If you go back to Dagur's threat from "Twinsanity," he never even said that he'd attack Berk if they had dragons. He specifically said he would if he found out they did after they denied it. Technically speaking, Dagur could have attacked immediately if he wanted to, but he still had the intention of keeping the peace. These expressions in the gif are right after he says, "You could've been my brother, Hiccup. Now, you're my enemy." When he says this, he actually sounds sad. His expressions match that. Dagur, Mr. Gets Angry At The Drop Of A Helmet didn't immediately respond with rage. He's hurt and I think I know why.

Dagur doesn't perceive things like other Vikings to put it lightly. When he has his first episode, he's talking about how he and Hiccup had great laughs after he tries to drown the poor Berkian. He calls Hiccup his old friend when they see each other again in the episode with the gif. I think he genuinely believes this. For the strange things Dagur does, he doesn't see it. So, it's not just someone lying to him, it's his best, his ONLY friend lying to him and making him looking like a cool in front of his tribe. That's why he sounds sad instead of angry. That's why he has to look away and think through what his next move is. Yes, he attacks, but what are his options?

Hiccup doesn't give him any more time to think. He tries to leave with Toothless, so Dagur has to act then. Regarding his options, they all are bleak. If he attacks, then you have war and what we got. The alternative is that he doesn't then, right? Well, that's not great either. As soon as he gets back to his ship, one of the Berserkers says that he wants to kill Hiccup himself. Dagur has to make it clear that no one besides himself will go after Hiccup. This shows how the Berserkers really can be vengeful. They're not even an aggressive group (as shown in "Something Rotten on Berserker Island"), but they have tempers. So, if Dagur holds onto the friendship that he just realized didn't exist, he has to go back with his tail between his legs and admit not only that he was played, but that he doesn't want to do anything about it.

Dagur already was worried that no one would respect him as chief. They never would if they found out he was tricked and didn't even want to get revenge for it. He would be the young chief who was too foolish to see through lies and too weak to defend his people in case the liar decided to lie again and actually attack. So, yes, Dagur attacked. Was it a mistake? Oh most definitely. He could've caused the deaths of many people and was arrested for this. So, I'm not saying that Dagur is in the right for his war, but I'm saying that I don't think it's a black and white as the show tried to portray. We see it from Hiccup's perspective with Dagur being this wild kid who just likes killing. Dagur's so much more than just some angry or deranged Viking. I just wish we got to see more of his side of things.

[faebaex]

Eye of the Storm II

author note: okay okay so this turned out alot longer than i was expecting (*ﾉωﾉ) i just kept getting new ideas as I wrote and here we are. i don’t think I am the best at writing Malleus, but I wanna get better. i feel like reader just makes him feel like a soft pile of mush ♡( ◡‿◡ ) also more Lilia than i was expecting, for he is a comforting ear and also a meddling old man in equal measures

Please note that this is a female character.

characters: Malleus Draconia x F!Fae Reader

Some time had passed since you had been taken by Malleus from the clearing. You weren’t entirely sure on how long, it could have easily been days or weeks, the time blending into one. You had eventually been released from the tower, much to the upset of Malleus, and herded into another, more lavish suite. It was here that you had remained ever since. 

The Crown Prince’s caretaker, Lilia, had insisted that you were not being held prisoner, and that you were instead a highly important, treasured guest. You weren’t sure how much you believed him. Once you were free of Malleus’ possessive hold, his demeanour had subtly changed. His cooing, soothing words that helped you escape the dragon’s grasp were long gone, and his hand on your shoulder felt heavy and foreboding. Your ‘light tea time conversation’ had been more of an interrogation as he prodded you on who you were, where you were from, what had happened that night... But you assume your answers had satisfied him. He was much kinder after that. And you were still alive, after all. 

You often found yourself worrying about the situation in the Sombre Wilds. Lilia had vaguely implied that the situation had been dealt with, but refused to go into further detail when you asked. So you waited, waited and wondered what would end up becoming of you. You hadn’t seen Malleus since you had escaped from the tower, and you’d be lying if you said he hadn’t crossed your mind. Your feelings towards him were ambivalent, part of you wanting to be terrified of the fae that had spirited you away, but another part of you was... Curious. During your time with him in the tower, he had treated you with nothing but gentleness. Sure, there were a few times when he’d cage you to him, tense and possessive, always when someone tried to enter the room. But all other times, his touch was always light, like he was scared you’d shatter before his eyes. 

Once again, you found your mind wandering to the events that had recently taken place, with you at the center... 

“I hardly feel there is a need for this attitude, Malleus.”

Malleus continued to snarl above you, baring his fangs at the intruder by the door, keeping you pressed tight to him. You tried to peek a glance at who had entered the room, but the wings that encompassed you blocked any view that wasn’t the dragon fae himself. 

A sigh. “Malleus, you are scaring her.”

You hadn’t even registered that you were trembling, but your body had chosen to betray your fear. Malleus’ growling abruptly ceased, but silence barely fell before a deep rumbling reverberated from his chest, the same sound that he had been making before. Soon you felt a pressure to the crown of your head, as he pressed his cheek against you in an attempt to soothe. You felt your waist squeezed again by the tail that was coiled around you, and his hold around you loosened a degree. 

“Now, Malleus-- Don’t glare at me like that-- why don’t you let your... Treasure go, and we can--” The sudden click on the stone floor was all it took for the dragon fae to straighten and immediately begin seething again. Suddenly, a pressure started to build in the air around you, causing your skin to prickle and itch. Hold on... Was he casting?

“Okay, okay... I’ll stay back... There’s no need for magic, Malleus.” Despite the stranger’s attempts to appease the dragon, the pressure continued to build in the room as Malleus clearly had no intention of stopping. The air grew heavier, and you felt goose bumps prickle across your skin, and panic began to rise in you again. The intruder’s protests dimmed into the background as you realised you needed to intervene, lest there be catastrophic consequences with using such strong magic in such a small area. 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you lifted a shaking hand, reaching up to cup the dragon fae’s cheek, albeit awkwardly. You prayed your actions didn’t come across as meek. But it was like he didn’t even notice you, growls still spilling from his throat as the pressure in the air only increased. Suddenly, a sensation bloomed in your chest, like a sudden hit of intuition and you knew what you had to do. Squirming in his arms and ignoring the burning blush on your cheeks, you rose your free hand to cup his other cheek and strengthened your grip, cupping his face firmly and drawing his attention to you, his sharp green eyes snapping towards to you. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you pressed your forehead against his. Just like he had done to you earlier, you brushed your thumbs in what you hoped was a soothing motion across the expanse of his cheeks.

The room went silent. The growls and snarls that were bubbling in Malleus’ throat died as he stared at you with wide eyes. The silence dragged and you held your breath, hoping such a bold gesture would be enough. Then slowly, oh so slowly the pressure from Malleus’ magic began to disperse, and you let out a sigh of relief. His hand snaked up from your back to curl into the hair at the back of your neck, his other arm holding you steady on his lap. He seemed to be fighting between the urge to keep you still and the urge to covet you closer. 

You jumped at the sudden click of the door shutting, and your eyes shot open. With a stretch, you could just peek over his wings to see the room empty, the other man having fled thanks to your distraction. You released another heavy breath, belatedly realising that any potential escape also left the room with the mysterious other man. 

A subtle squeeze at the back of your neck brought your attention back yet again to the dragon fae, and as your eyes met, you were taken aback by the intensity in his eyes. He stared at you with the most lovelorn expression, his gaze full of pining. You suddenly felt self-conscious, the weight of his gaze making you feel scrutinised. A soft but insistent pressure at the back of your neck had him guiding you back towards him until your foreheads were once again touching. You felt your cheeks begin to heat up again as he closed his eyes in contentment, as Malleus seemed to have decided that he was happy with this position. Maybe if you could just wait for him to fall asleep, you could slip away...

After that, the rest of your time in the tower was a blur. When you weren’t sleeping, you were being lavished with food finer than you’d ever seen, along with other precious trinkets which seemed to multiply every time you closed your eyes, for every time you awoke there would be a new jewel waiting for you. You stopped any escape attempts after the first failed try, if you could even call it that. Even when you thought he was asleep, you hadn’t even gotten two steps towards the door before he was suddenly behind you, puppy dog eyes in full force. 

Eventually, Malleus’ season came to an end. And as if he knew, the previous man returned, Lilia as you are now aware, and managed to coax your freedom from the dragon. Or, not so much freedom. Everything you could possibly need had been delivered to you, but you had been politely requested to stay put. You wondered if you’d ever see the outside of these walls again. 

As if on cue, a hollow knock sounded on the door and it opened before you could say a word. Ah, Lilia. Again. “Hello, dear F/N. I brought you some more books. I noticed you had taken to the more geographical variety of our books, so I think you’ll pleasantly enjoy these.” With a flick of his wrist, the books landed with a soft thump on one of the side tables. 

“I want to go home.”

Lilia smiled, an infuriating one, at your retort, leaning a shoulder against the wall as he crossed his arms and appraised you, “you say that like we are holding you hostage. Come F/N, haven’t we treated you well?” 

You gave him a tight lipped smile back. You always felt you needed to be on your toes around this particular fae, it was as if he was always one step ahead, as if he could lead you into a trap at any moment. “Undoubtedly, but I believe I have outstayed my welcome.” 

Both of you stared at each other in silence, a staring contest that had become a regular part of your routine. All it ever ended in was him brushing you off before conveniently finding a reason to excuse himself, so you were surprised when he left out a heavy sigh and pushed himself upright and made his way over towards the lounge chairs. 

“No one has ever said you can’t go home,” Lilia began, as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him. You remained standing. “However, this is a rather... Sensitive matter. Of course, the upmost importance is keeping you safe.” 

Keeping you safe? Your eyes narrowed, “what does that mean?”  

The corner of his lip quirks upwards. “Surely you understand how special you are? I can promise you, we are in... Negotiations to allow you home, but they have not been progressing as smoothly as we’d like. And I reiterate, keeping you unharmed is imperative.”  

“Unharmed?!” you couldn’t help your outburst, shocked by the tone he was taking, talking as if there was suddenly a target on your back, “I would be in no danger at home, what are you-- And I can assure you, I am not some sort of important public figure, you’ve got the wrong idea! I am just a regular woman, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time!” 

Lilia’s eyes softened as you spoke, as if he pitied you. He patted the chair beside him, more firmly this time, and after a moment’s hesitation, you crossed the room to slip into the seat beside him. “I believe you. But it is not a risk we are willing to take,” you opened your mouth to retort, but Lilia gently raised a finger to stop you, “... You may have been a normal woman when you entered that clearing, my dear, but everything changed when you left it.” Lilia gently placed a hand on the arm of your chair as he stared at you with eyes full of compassion, “dragons mate for life, F/N.”

You felt your breath stick in your throat at his words, but Lilia didn’t stop. “You’ll have to forgive me, I was sceptical at first. I too wondered if you had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I have observed, and I have verified. You and Malleus are soulmates, F/N.” 

You felt your chest tighten and a lump form in your throat at the heaviness of Lilia’s words. Soulmates? What sort of absurd claim was this? You felt your skin grow clammy, and you huffed out a shuddered breath, “I don’t understand...--”

“I have been Malleus’ caretaker since he first crept from his shell, F/N. You’d have difficulty finding someone who knows him as personally as I. And yet despite that, there would have been no chance of me calming him when he was in his frenzied state in the tower. But all it took from you was a simple touch, don’t you find that odd? A territorial, possessive dragon, ready to strike, yet you pressed your head to his and he calmed. It’s no coincidence, F/N.”

You sank back into your chair, at a loss for words. You didn’t want to believe it - it felt ludicrous to you. As far as you knew, there were no belief of soulmates in the Sombre Wilds, so this sudden concept being thrust upon you that you and Malleus were tied together by fate? 

“Perhaps now you can understand why we have been having such difficulties in arranging your return.” Lilia flashed you a sympathetic smile and drew his hand back, leaning back in his chair, “one of our proposals was that when you returned home, you would return with protection. Specifically, a guard. However, that proposal was not very well received...” 

You could understand why. Relations weren’t exactly the best between the Valley of Thorns and the Sombre Wilds. “... And the other proposal?” 

“To put it bluntly, you would remain here. We would provide you with everything you needed to ensure you were comfortable, and we’d even be willing to arrange a delegation from the Sombre Wilds to take up permanent residence in Briar Valley as a show of good faith.” 

You scrubbed a hand across your face, trying to process all of which you’d just been told. To you, both proposals seemed drastic. You felt you were stuck in a particularly problematic tug of war, with you being the rope. Suddenly, you felt very overwhelmed and timid, “I just-- I... I just want to go home.” 

“I know, F/N. But if anything were to happen to you, a war would be guaranteed. And forgive my selfishness, but I don’t wish to see another war. Not when it can be so easily avoided.” 

You bit down on your lip, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your soul. It wasn’t just your life on the line here, it was a decision that could affect hundreds, no, thousands of others. With that perspective in mind, your own feelings felt insignificant. 

You sighed heavily, feeling almost defeated in the face of this issue that you had no idea that was playing out around you. “... So where do we go from here?”

“Unfortunately, we have hit an impasse as far as negotiations have been going,” suddenly Lilia flashed you a fanged smile, perhaps in an attempt to lighten the mood, “although there is something that you might be able to assist me with...” You already had a bad feeling about this. 

“You see, Malleus is currently unaware of your desire to leave, but who better than yourself to inform him of this news?” You balked, your mouth dropping open. “I-i hardly feel like that is appropriate!” You protested, cursing internally as you felt your cheeks flush red at the idea. 

“Why not? He’d listen to you more than he’d listen to anyone else. I doubt he’d have the heart to refuse you. If I tried to broach the subject, Briar Valley would be looking at storms for the next month, at least. And at worst... Well, I doubt you want another repeat of the tower incident, hm?” 

You deadpanned at the thought. Either way, it sounded like you could end up in the tower again regardless of who broke the news to Malleus, if he didn’t like what he heard. 

“Besides, wouldn’t it be nice for you and Malleus to have a chat? It’s been a while since you’ve seen each other.” You looked at Lilia as if he had lost his mind, but he just continued to give you a toothy grin. 

“When should I do it?”

“Well... No time like the present, no?”

...

And that is why you were stood outside two of quite possibly the most imposing doors you’d ever seen. Even the doors of the throne room in the Sombre Wilds paled in comparison. And these were just bedroom doors. 

“... Are you sure this uh... Location is appropriate for this conversation?” You asked Lilia, lips pressing into a line as you doubted this was truly the best move you both could be making. 

“I don’t see why not. It’s a similar suite to your own and offers the privacy needed for such a conversation.” Lilia replied nonchalantly, although you had a sneaking suspicion he was gaining amusement from your awkwardness. 

“And you’ll be there too?”

“Of course, I’m happy to offer my support.”

You turned back towards the doors, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling psyched out by the imposing sight. You had no idea what awaited you in there. Would Malleus attempt to keep you captive again? Or would he be cold and uninviting? Would it be... Awkward? 

You didn’t have much longer to worry, as Lilia pressed a hand to your shoulder, gave it a squeeze and herded you forwards, giving the door a quick knock before you could protest. “Everything will be fine. Come on.” Before you could protest, Lilia had already opened the door and lightly pushed you inside. You could curse him as you heard the door creak shut and turned to see that Lilia had in fact not joined you. 

Reluctantly, you turned away from the door and took in the room before you. Like Lilia said, it was a suite like your own but... Far grander. The lounge area alone left an impression, with plush looking chairs and an equally inviting loveseat nestled in one corner of the room. A low table sat nearby, with a beautiful dragon carving decorating the middle. Your eyes trailed until they fell upon the large arched windows, and that’s when you noticed Malleus. 

He seemed to be gazing at nothing, his lips fixed in a line. You couldn’t help but think that the light filtering through the windows gave him an almost ethereal look, whilst also giving him quite the imposing shadow. It felt odd in a way, seeing him without wings or a tail. His horns, however, remained. You felt something in your chest flutter, but shoved the feeling down and played it off to nerves as you gingerly approached, your fingers tangling together in front of you. 

“Lilia, I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed.” The best way to describe Malleus’ expression would have been petulant as he turned away from the window, a pout pressed into his cheeks before it all fell away, his eyes widening in shock when his gaze fell on you instead of his caretaker. You realised that this was the first time you’d actually heard Malleus speak, and a faint dusting of pink littered your cheeks when you noticed that it sounded akin to his growls. 

You shook the thought from your head as you tried to find your voice, “Ah... I’m sorry I didn’t realise this was a bad time... Lilia told me that... Yeah...” Lilia seemed to tell you many things. “I can come back another time if...”

“No! No... You... You are never a disturbance.” Malleus uttered gently, stepping away from the window to close some of the distance between you. You felt your cheeks heat at his words, and prayed that the dim of the room would hide it. You couldn’t allow yourself to be flustered, you needed to get this over with and ask--

“I trust you have been well? I ordered that your comfort be ensured. I wanted to see you but... Lilia suggested I give you some time to adjust... He told me you have been enjoying books, I have a private collection you may find to your liking, please treat it as your own, I--”

“I-i would like to go h-home.” You felt your chest squeeze as the words rushed out of you in a flurry, and you watched as his expression froze, before his lips pressed back into a thin line and his expression became unreadable. You wrung your hands nervously, as silence stretched between you. 

“I see.” More silence. You felt your heartrate rise, swallowing the rising lump in your throat. You rattled your brain, trying to find something to say, whether to convince him or just to end this deafening silence. 

“Did I... Fail to meet your needs?” You felt your heart clench at his words, guilt pooling in you as despite how neutral he attempted to keep his expression, you could still catch the glimmer of hurt in his eyes. 

“It’s not that! I-i was very comfortable but... But this isn’t my home. My whole life is in the Wilds, I can’t just... Leave...” Silence again. You could feel yourself cracking slightly under the pressure, and you began to babble before you could stop yourself. 

“A-and we don’t even know each other! You’re a Prince, the Prince of the Valley of Thorns, and I’m just... I’m just a regular woman from a kingdom that is rarely acknowledged by the rest of the world! I-i... I don’t know--”

You hadn’t even registered Malleus moving, until he was right in front of you. Even in a less draconic form, he towered above you. With a crooked finger, he brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into your face, likely from your frenzied babbling. The motion was hesitant and awkward, like he was unsure if he was touching you correctly, a world of difference from when he was carrying you around in the tower weeks earlier. 

“I would like to know you.” He said softly, and your cheeks flushed, from his words and your own embarrassing prattling. How were you supposed to respond to that? You took a deep breath and tried to steel yourself. 

“... It’s not fair for me to have to change my entire life...” You spoke firmly, even if you did feel a little intimidated by your close proximity. It was difficult, it felt like you were kicking a puppy every time you rebuffed him. You watched as Malleus’ brow furrowed at your words, his hand pulling away from your cheek and arms folding. 

“But I don’t want you to change. I like you how you are.” Malleus was perplexed, unable to grasp what particularly was making you feel the need to leave. To leave him. 

It was odd, having someone so innocently proclaim their desire for you. It fell so easily from his lips, and whilst his gestures were hesitant, his words never were. You felt bashful under both the weight of his gaze and words. You remembered Lilia’s words, about how difficult arranging your departure was, and how different your life would be now regardless of whether you ever got back to the Sombre Wilds. You were proclaiming to be ordinary but Lilia was clear - your life would never be ordinary after this. 

“If I may, I have a suggestion.”

You startled, nearly jolting into Malleus, who put a steadying hand on your shoulder. Your head whipped round, seeing Lilia once again leaning by the door. Oh, so now he decided to show up? You couldn’t help the glare that you shot his way, and clearly you weren’t the only one who felt this way, as Malleus glowered at him from above you. He only shot you both a fang toothed grin in response. 

“I think the two of you could benefit from a... Level playing field, so to speak. A neutral location. It would give you the time and opportunity to get to know each other, but in a location that would feel more comfortable for F/N. Let’s say we try it for... A year,” You opened your mouth to protest, but Lilia lifted a finger to hush you, continuing on, “That way, It’ll give us the time needed to iron out the details of your return to the Sombre Wilds, should you still be steadfast in your wish to leave. And surely it’ll be much more interesting than spending all day in your suite, no?” 

You mulled this new proposal over. Was this why Lilia was absent? Had he anticipated something like this occurring? His eyes and smile gave nothing away, and it only unnerved you more. Just how many steps ahead was he? 

“... What location did you have in mind?” 

Lilia grinned, what appeared to be a mischievous glint in his eye, “F/N, have you ever heard of Night Raven College?”

[somecallmekay]

A Date at the Ball

@wonderwyrm and I prepare for the ball, 700 words, Blue Moon Ball

Evenings in spring usually tended to be on the warmer side, and tonight was no exception. The gentle heat of the setting sun slowly withdrew as the cool air kept everyone at a comfortable temperature, which was certainly aided to some extent by the magics enchanted. 

The sky was awash with colours of the setting sun, painting a diorama of hues accented by champagne pink clouds, carefully guiding the observers gaze towards the marble pillars which served as the main entrance to the hall, which was bustling with life. 

Wizards, witches, dragons, angels, wolfkin, everyone showed up dressed in their best. The Blue Moon Ball was certainly an event not to miss, and everything has been going smoothly, much thanks to the host.

Most people showed up slightly ahead of time, and we're socialising outside, save for one figure. 

Wyrm was dressed in a brilliant white dress, sparkling in the evening sun, reflecting the setting sun, yet underlit with a menagerie of colours, matching his wizard's hat and shoes. Bright and shiny, yet far from gauche, they razzled and dazzled in the crowd like fresh snow. 

Suddenly, the floor beneath them darkened, darkened, and darkened until it became a pool of pitch black. The shade, while still attached to their feet, moved slightly to the side, then something started rising out of it. Dark tendrils of darkness reached up into the sky, then coalesced into a singular form, stitching themselves into a humanoid body. 

She chuckled,and extended her hand towards the shape. “You're so dramatic, Kay.”

The body accepted his hand, the shadows fracturing to reveal their date for the ball, who turned the hand over and kissed the back, far too dramatically. “What can I say, it is the day to go all out. What'd you think?” they said, and slowly turned around, showing their outfit. 

A black suit, black shirt, they wore no tie, their neck adorned with a silver necklace in the shape of a small hammer, and an onyx pendant. They wore several black and silver bracelets, and a silver ring on their right middle finger. Their head was completely black and only reflecting some light, as if made out of ink. The outfits were completely different, yet instead of clashing, they accentuated each other beautifully. 

“Sharp,”came the answer, “but a little too black, don't you think?” The question was, of course, a joke, and immediately met with a response from his date. “I mean, I'm a living shadow, might as well lean into it. Anyways, damn, is this place nice or what?”

And like that, hands in pockets, all the theatricalities gone, just two friends hanging out dressed pretty. 

“Yeah, Lurien really went all out for this.” Wyrm responded cheerfully. “You can really see how much work he put in.”

“Same could be said for yourself, you look beautiful.”

“Aww, thank you! Took me a moment to get the enchantment exactly right, but it really paid off I think. Check this out!” he exclaimed and did a quick twirl. 

The lights of the dress went wild. Lights enchanted their glow, temporarily capturing the gaze of everyone around, and a round of polite applause followed. 

Kay was clapping the loudest, which wasn't saying much since golf claps aren't for noise, but regardless. 

“Bravo, beautiful. If they ever make a card game out of this ball, you're getting a holographic card just for that.”

“That might be the weirdest compliment I've gotten.”

“Gotten so far, the night is still young. Besides, the ball hasn't even sta-”

The massive doors into the building rumbled, and slowly opened, and a chime echoed through the grounds, signalling the ball had officially started. 

The shadow wytch paused. “huh. Colour me wrong I guess.”

Wyrm laughed, then offered his hand for their date to wrap their arm around. “Shall we then? My date?”

The teasing in her words was lightheaded, and instantly, she found a dark arm locked with hers. “After the Shadow Lillies and chocolates? Absolutely, darling.”

“Well, I did get a visit from someone who knew you'd like them. Tall, shadowy, black clothing.”

“I couldn't possibly imagine someone like that. Seriously, does their wardrobe have like, only one colour?”

They shared a laugh, just as they stepped into the halls. Oh yes, tonight was definitely a good night to go all out.

[legendofzoodles]

Zelda deserved to become a Dragon tbh

No scientist worth their salt pushes forward ignoring the glaring gaps in a picture. She and the rest of Hyrule made that mistake once: practically handing the Divine Beasts and Guardians on a silver platter for the Calamity to turn against them.

She suffered for a hundred years because of that blunder, it should have made her cautions, patient, wise when approaching the unknown...instead she did the same shit again! It’s pretty on Zelda that what happened to her, happened.

Here’s why:

~~~

When she was in the catacombs with Link she acted like a giddy tourist, taking pictures of the murals like novell snapshots of history, and not the attentive scholar she claims to be. It’s fine to get excited about what you’re passionate about, we all do that, but a professional wouldn’t let it cloud their judgement. Bearing in mind she was down there originally to solve the mystery of the gloom; people were literally immobilised sick on their beds on the surface while she was geeking out over Zonai statues.

More of a critique of the prologue but if that’s not tonal dissonance, idk what is.

Anyway, those murals were an obvious warning, clear cut context for what awaits in the next chamber, like, “hey, there’s some gnarly shit in the next room. Here’s what went down prior...make sure you’re prepared. Maybe bring an army, it could get wild.”

If Zelda was able to immediately connect them to the imprisoning war of her studies without trouble then she should have starting thinking about why there was even a mystery surrounding it. How did it end? Why was it forgotten? Part of the mural- arguably the most vital- was blocked off. Why not leave and come back with a team to carefully excavate?

It sounds overly meticulous, but this is the level of thoroughness I’d expect from an academic coming across something she knows so little about and is clearly dangerous.

I do kind of get why she wanted to rush forward; while the gloom in small hazy clouds couldn’t affect them immediately, prolonged exposure could make them sick and halt progress...but like, there was nothing stopping them from just turning back and going about this slowly. If anything, the creepy murals and sight of a whole mummy being held down by a ghost hand was screaming at them to turn back, think, regroup, and come back with a careful plan with backups and failsafes to make sure nothing happens to the Princess. 

This doesn’t ruin some kind of plan. Zelda wasn’t sent to the past for a reason. It wasn’t part of some grand plan concocted by Rauru. He had no idea why she was there, neither did Sonia, neither did the genius Mineru. She accidently sent herself there because she was falling to her death and understandably distressed when Link failed to reach her.

Remember, the stones don’t grant new power or have any kind of senscience. They just amplify existing power. When Zelda fell, she unconsciously used the power of the stone to teleport to safety. Because she had been thinking about the imprisoning war and that period in the past, that’s where sent herself, and the stone magnified her time/light power to make her travel that huge distance in the timeline.

...so, as long as there’s an outcome where Zelda isn’t put in a life threatening position making her yeet herself into the past, there’s no dragonification (reminder she contributes very little, if anything at all in the past. Only becoming a dragon to restore the master sword and get her back to her own timeline in the slowest way possible). 

Even if it all goes to hell and Link is still arm snatched, so long as Zelda makes it out fine she and Purah can take what they’ve discovered and learn from it. While experimenting with the stone Zelda could then unlock her time/light powers and, with a lot of practice, amplify them using the stone to restore the Master Sword (maybe she only sends the master sword in the past to her ancestors Rauru and Sonia, to then be recharged and collected brand spanking new in their time) and be there in the fight against Ganon. All while helping her kingdom get through the Upheaval as a pillar or order and stability.

...speaking of dragonification, as it happened in game, she really didn’t need to do that. Honestly. Sure, that’s what Mineru suggested, but it’s not what Sonia, her pseudo-mother figure, suggested. Sonia said wisdom takes time, that if Zelda practices, she will be able to control her powers. I’m fairly sure the battle was over when Zelda turned herself into a dragon, Ganondorf was contained by Rauru, she had time. 

TL;DR: Zelda getting herself stuck in the past and going with the nuclear sky-wyrmification option was her own fault. Had she just been a competent researcher, she wouldn’t have put Link and herself in the dangerous position that led to the game’s events.

~~~

Thanks for reading! I like this game, but the story and Zelda’s characterisation are fundamentally broken.

Btw Link clearly didn’t learn anything from the Calamity either; he didn’t try stop her. But when you’re seen as nothing but a bodyguard I can see why he just assumed she knew what she was doing...even when the darn Master Sword was flashing a warning.

Masterlist

Short Story: Blunt Crown (Wild and Flora)

Headcanons: Flora is Feral, Parkour team  

[eerna]

the thematic shift from botw to totk is so weird when u rly think about it bc in botw its all about a failed prophecy; zelda couldnt awaken her powers and the champions couldnt defeat ganon as it was foretold. it was about breaking free from tradition and convention and trying to find other means of defeating this evil (zeldas fascination with sheikah tech for example). i think this theme also aligns with the entirety of the loz franchise as a whole, given how botw did a complete 180° on the zelda formula theyve always had. everything just worked!!!

and then in totk its just like ... we go back in time and use the powers of old to defeat ganon ... ? not to mention that every researcher in the game is fascinated by these ancient texts and architecture. rather than innovators they become historians. youre expected to look for answers in the past rather than learn from naively following prophecies and suffering its consequences.

however i do think totk had a rly interesting premise when they decided to implement time travel. like i absolutely LOVEE everything about the light dragon etc etc but the story in general just did not hit as hard :( i adore this game its so fun and its so beautiful but there is so much room for criticism as well

also sorry for this long ass ask omfg .. but ur post earlier got me going !!

It's ok, I fully support long elaborations based on whatever I went off about! :D

Oh, that's an interesting view of it! I personally didn't think BotW was about forgetting tradition at all? The Sheikah tech is still history, it's still following in the footsteps of those who came before - the prophecy itself is was what led to its discovery in the first place. I interpreted BotW as a story about what happens when people try to imitate the past, I agree, but in the end the point was that they shouldn't let it weight them down, but should still pay respects to it. Hyrule forgot all about its history - who knows what might have happened if that ancient king never got spooked by the Sheikah tech and buried it! If it didn't stay exactly the same as it was 10000 years ago, Ganon might have never influenced it so strongly, and the Calamity might have never have happened! Zelda couldn't escape her history, all the progressive tech in the world couldn't imitate her role, but the only way she was able to realize her destiny was through her own means, on her own time. It wasn't about her rejecting convention, it was about her finding her own spin on it. She was being held back by the shadow of her mother and the expectations of the monarchy, and found a way to channel her inheritance through the wild, and through Link. And that was the theme of the game! Looking back at decades' worth of games, then picking and choosing what to keep and what to give up on! It is so cool!

I think TotK did great to continue this line of thought regarding Zelda's character - she is not a princess-princess she was forced to be 100 years ago, she is a teacher/researcher/engineer-princess, and everyone loves her and looks up to her. She is still a sort-of leader, but she is doing it in her own way, without castles or thrones or holy powers and almost entirely hands-off, letting the people guide her. In my opinion, it treats the researchers the same way it did in BotW, except yes, a new faction has been introduced to the plot that is dedicated to historical research. I don't doubt that the decade leading up to the Calamity also had a bunch of historians running around deciphering old texts and figuring out how stuff worked, we just didn't get to see it and got the finished results instead. Also, it's pretty clear that Zonai tech requires a Zonai to work it (Link can do it because of his right arm), so it's not as widely malleable as Sheikah tech which was able to be used by all inhabitants of Hyrule. And the finale of the game FULLY goes against history even harder than BotW did - yes, Ganondorf CAN be defeated, even if Rauru failed. Yes, Zelda CAN be returned to her original form, even if the transformation is supposed to be permanent according to Zonai history. In fact, the Zelda thing annoys me (no matter how much I love it) because it wasn't set up in a way that carried over any sort of a message or a theme. Impa said she would find a way to turn her back, I was expecting a quest dedicated to it, be it finding ancient texts or a new loophole, and then whoosh she's back through a Sonia-and-Rauru-ex-machina. I would say that TotK can't decide if it wants to break away from its history (by making half the game a completely new, blank slate) or go along with it (by making the other half of the game clearly love what happened before, all the way back to a divine Hyrulean monarchy) which is why it's so jumbled up at times.

Like you said, I love the game, I cry whenever I remember that beautiful finale, but it really dropped the ball when it came to BotW's comprehensiveness. Why did Link fail to catch Zelda in the beginning, but managed in the end? What changed? What is its significance? It's a beautiful scene and makes me so emo, but it rings hollow if I try to find a deeper meaning, and that's basically the game in a nutshell.

[absolutebl]

This Week In BL - I give out a bunch of 7/10s

Nov 2022 Wk 3

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying the most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Between Us (Sun iQIYI) 3 of 12 - I’m beginning to get concerned about where the plot, pace, and conflict is going to come from. So far it’s all angst and internal conflict, and I’m not entirely opposed to that, but there needs to be some external stressors in Thai BL or it’s not enough to carry 12 episodes (especially if it’s helmed by New). WATCH ALONG HERE.

Ai Long Nhai (Mon iQIYI) 9 of 10 - something actually happened in this ep, we got some of Ai’s family history & backstory. Evil mother is evil. Sister may be evil too. But it’s still shirtless so I’m pleased. Also, yay, no singing!

Remember Me (Sun Gaga) 7 of 12 - Name has finally made a new friend. JaFirst remain the most interesting. I actually don’t mind the show when it’s focused on them, but most of the rest of the time I find it, if not boring, at least not something that engages me personally. Although, the younger boy flirting with Em after cheer practice was kind of cute. 

I Will Knock You (Fri Gaga) 2 of 12 - Thi is such a pushover. Look, I’m just not wild about this lead pair dynamic and I absolutely can’t stand the score.

609 Bedtime Story (Sat WeTV) 1 of 11 - Didn’t drop to WETV in my territory, no idea what’s going on. I’ll have a bit of a hunt when I get home. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

My Tooth Your Love (Taiwan Fri Viki) 8 of 12 - Every week I look forward to this show the most. We knew it had to happen, but it’s really sad to see our traumatized bar-boy break our beloved dentist’s heart. We all know they’re in love with each other, they also know it. But Bai Lang is very very scared of commitment and the dentist is a good boy who keeps getting hurt by other’s inability to trust and open up. The past romance was really sad and sadly true to life. Is it better to have a friend’s love or pity, if all you really wanted was friendship? I like how complicated all of these characters are. I love the conversation the leads had with each other after Bai Lang finally admits to his true feelings. Such a good show. 

Eternal Yesterday AKA Eien no Kino (Japan Thurs Gaga) 6 of 8 - This show is so sad. I sometimes wonder if Kochi remains alive entirely because Michan wills him to be so. Does anybody else wonder if the gay biology teacher who lost his first love is a nod to Boys Love? Just me?

Choco Milk Shake (Korea Strongberry Tues YT) 7-8 of 10 - The pacing is so good in this show. Also, I am completely and utterly in love with the ex-bf (hi, Wild Dog, long time no see, wanna run away with me instead?) 

Happy Ending Romance (Korea Thurs Gaga) 1-2 of 8 - Very dramatic opening. I like it. Leo is stupid pretty. This is a complicated, if improbable, plot about writers and ego and reputation, but engaging. (For a change I like the OST, Leo is also one of my favorite main singers among the honey-voices of Kpop.)

Finished This Week 

Ghost Host, Ghost House (Weds YouTube) 8fin - An excellent confession sequence. I was a little surprised. Usually confession scenes make me wince, but this one was lovely. I’m not a fan of the Kdrama “separation in the final episode” (see Big D) but in this particular instance, I understand why they did it. The characters did need to mature and build new lives. It’s just annoying that they couldn’t do it together. All in all? This is a light horror plus family drama built around a well executed BL trough-line that felt honestly queer with great chemistry from the lead pair. (I hope that we see more of them.) For me personally the surrounding cast, premise, and story didn’t resonate but if you like a touch of gothic in your BL this might appeal. RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS 7/10 

Big Dragon (Sat Gaga) 8fin - I really don’t like Thailand copying Korea’s arbitrary “separation in the final episode” thing. So for me this final episode wasn’t very satisfying. Ultimately? This is a decent execution of enemies to lovers, exploring some darker themes and nodding at kink in a more respectful way than Mame could ever dream, plus excellent chemistry, but something was askew around plot, directing, and ending. RECOMMENDED FOR THE LEAD PAIR, BUT NOT MUCH ELSE 7/10

Kabe Koji (Japan Mon Viki) 8fin - Japan sure does love the “running of the gays” trope. Only this time around they ran together. Which was kind of cute. Honestly? This probably should’ve been my favorite BL of all time, but for some reason it just never resonated with me. Also, I’m over the no kiss thing. I’m tired. If they kiss in het, they can kiss in gay. IT’S FINE. 7/10

Apparently, when Japanese BL is good, it’s very very good, and when it’s bad I’m annoyed.

It’s Airing But I’m Not Watching It

War of Y (Thai Gaga) 20 eps - it’s just all too much for me.

To Sir With Love AKA Khun Chai 16 eps - could be sad v worried

2 Moons 3 (Thai Mon ??) 10 eps - Possibly a future binge watch. Rumor is it’s banal.

Love Bill  (Vietnam Sat YT) - Bah Vinh is back but I’m too distracted. Also there’s a lot of fund raising and stuff going on. I’ll wait and binge.

How is he so hot? Asking for science. 

In Case You Missed It

My Roommate (Thai YT) 32 eps of 2 minutes each now done, it’s terrible production values so I’m not bothering but it’s been repackaged into 8 min chunks on the youtubes.

Fahlanruk (Thai GaGa) 12 eps - I cut my losses at ep 5 but it’s finished now, someone who knows my taste tell me if I should I bother? 

SELF (Thai Thurs YT) is complete at 6 eps, anyone watch this one? Is it sad? Worth watching?

LITA special - it’s exactly as trashy and kinky as you want it to be. Go indulge, you lushes. Rain & Payu, man, wow. Also, the sound is terrible. But no one cares much about the script, least of all the writers. 

GAP the series (Sat YT) is a classic office set romance. WATCH IT! It’s GL and this studio needs our support! (Also, the stairs are back!) 

Coming to Viki: Love in the Air, ITSAY & IPYTM, Remember Me, and new KBL, The New Employee.

Gossip:

GMMTV posted their pilot trailers for 2023. I reported on them all here. Fewer this year than last which is a good thing, they should slow down and focus more. 

How did my predictions go? Not good. Scored a 6/10 maybe 6.5 if you’re feeling generous. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

2022 still to come?

Dec 9: Semantic Error movie (Viki) - the repackage rumored to have some added footage. 

Dec 19: Chains of Heart (movie? theaters?) trailer Suspense thriller about a forest ranger, smugglers, memory loss, and lost love. Stars Haii (Cirrus in TT2) and Poppy (Porpla in YYY). Adapted from a Y-novel of the same name by TJ Tommy. I don’t know if this is still releasing or if C19 has effected it. 

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS 

Win, my love! Just call me his of the morning, hia. Just touch my cheek before you leave me, hia.

In Stongberry we trust! *consent in the house* 

This week’s earworm: Just B - Me (srs where did these boys come from? so good) 

(last week)

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Twenty-Two

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo

@lathalea @legolasbadass @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being

@knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell

@jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc

@msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98

@way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @night-ace

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Darkness had never been so peaceful. 

Thorin stared up at the ceiling, which was little more than blackness upon blackness, embedded with gemstones that glinted in the flickering candlelight. He’d never noticed just how many stones there were, even after the literal weeks he’d spent in this very bed not quite two years earlier. Then again, the last time he’d occupied this bed, his circumstances were far more dire, as he hovered between life and death, utterly unsure of which he preferred. 

Since then, his scars ached from time to time, the ones on his belly a bit sensitive to the touch. But at that moment, he felt nothing but utter peace and perhaps the small tingling remnants of the absolute bliss that had coursed through his body earlier. 

Of their own volition, his fingers skimmed lightly along the gossamer, fiery silken threads of Nina’s wild curls. Her hair was softer than any other he’d ever touched, fluid and seemingly alive as it spilled through his fingers, the light catching the streaks of gold and fire running through it. Her breath whispered across his chest, and he smiled as her fingertips slid gently along his stomach. 

Nina lifted her head to regard him with sleepy eyes. “I thought you’d fallen asleep.”

“I’ve no desire to sleep. I’d rather this night not end just yet.”

She shifted, resting her chin against his chest. “Narnerra has told me she’s cleared me to leave. And while she didn’t exactly say so, I believe that was a polite way of telling me to lose myself come morning.”

He let his fingers move down, along the curve of her ear, to her cheek. “Where will you go?”

It might have been but his imagination, but he thought disappointment flashed through her unusual green eyes, but all she said, “I have a flat in Dale. And Sigrid is probably going out of her mind with worry for me.”

“Sigrid?”

“My roommate.” Her teeth flashed in a winsome smile. “Bard’s daughter.”

“You live with the bowman’s daughter?”

She nodded. “We’ve known each other since we were children. I bumped into her when I first returned to Dale and she needed a roommate as much as I needed a place to room.”

“Will she object to my paying call on you? I’ve the feeling she is no more fond of dwarves than you were when you and I first met.”

“Paying call on me?”

He nodded, letting his fingers graze along her jaw, unable to resist the feel of her soft skin. “I believe you call it courting in the world of Men.”

Her eyes widened. “You wish to court me? Do you even know what that means?”

He chuckled. “I know very well what it means. And I think I would like to do so. Unless you’d rather leave here and never be bothered by me again.”

Her laugh came soft and bubbly as she shook her head. “No, I’d rather not do that, if it’s all the same to you.”

With that, she eased over him and his breath hitched at the feel of her against him, the feel of her full breasts firm against his chest, the feel of her cleft nestling him so nicely. Her body fit perfectly against his, soft and supple as he slid his arms about her and let his fingertips dance down her spine toward the rounded curve of her backside. 

Her eyes softened as they held his, and she carefully shifted to balance as she traced a finger along the line of his beard. “Do dwarves approach courting differently?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never courted anyone.”

“Well, surely you know the basics.”

“I’m not so certain our basics are your basics.”

“Thorin.”

“What? I’m not.”

“Thorin.”

She started to shift off him, and he caught her before she could, smiling as he said, “Oh, no, mesmel. You are staying right there.”

“Am I, then?”

He nodded, tightening his hold on her. “Oh, yes. You are.”

Her gaze softened and he bit back a low sigh as she pressed her hips into his and replied, “If you insist.”

Her lips came upon his then and he wrapped his arms about her. She felt so perfect against him, his blood warmed as it swept through him, his heart picking up its pace as she broke the kiss to graze her lips along his chin, down his neck. Leaving fiery tingles in her wake, she kissed her way down over his chest, down his stomach, and his head spun from the heat that scorched him from the inside out. 

“Mesmel,” he managed to breathe as thinking became far more difficult. How could a simple kiss, a trail of simple kisses, creates such fire in him, create such need? A dull ache took root deep inside him, one that was maddening and arousing at the same time. Each pass of her lips, each flick of her tongue against his overheated skin sharpened that ache, made the fire burn brighter and hotter with each passing moment. His eyes closed of their own, sweet pleasure threatening to drown him as she moved into even more sensitive territory. 

Nina crept lower, her kisses hotter, more teasing and far more seductive now and as she reached his hip, he couldn't hold back his moan. He burned for this woman, this wanton temptress who made him feel things he never knew could be felt, and little by little, his blood flowed south, hot and thick and burning as he responded to her sensual touch. 

Her lips came soft and warm along his left inner thigh, moved down toward his knee, then back up and his hips snapped up of their own as she slowly took him in her mouth. The silken pull was nearly his undoing, the inferno raging through him bringing him so perilously close to completion in a single heartbeat. 

Without thinking, he reached for her, sank his hands in to her glorious hair, twisting his fingers into the thick curls as he moaned, “Nina…” 

She lashed him with her tongue, slow strokes that moved along his length and swirled about his girth. She drew him deep, the pressure nearly driving him mad with the need for release. He held back, fought it off to allow the fiery pleasure to consume him. He couldn’t breathe. If someone asked, he’d not be able to recall his own bloody name. 

None of it mattered. She teased him to the brink of madness and the harder he pulled on her hair, the tighter her lips came about him and the rougher her tongue came upon him, and the pleasure that burned through him had the intensity of a thousand suns. 

Then, she pulled away slowly, offering up a sensual smile at his moan of protest. That protest was forgotten as she kissed her way back up to his lips, shifted ever so slightly and—

“Oooh…” He couldn't hold back his moan as she sheathed him in a silken glide and tightened about him. She sat back, hands braced on his chest, and rocked ever so slowly, moving forward and back. 

He moaned again, his hands coming to rest on her thighs, his fingers tightening as she rode him slowly. Forcing his eyes open, he drank in the sight of her, her full breasts swaying with her movement, her hips undulating so very slowly to treat him to sensations that were both fiery and sweet. 

She smiled, her eyes glittering in the candlelight as she whispered, “Thorin…”

He returned that smile, sliding one hand between her perfect thighs, into the russet curls between them, and found that pearl he knew would give her the same pleasure she gave him.

She sucked in a sharp breath as he just barely grazed it, and tightened about him even further as she drew him deep. With each stroke, she quivered about him, her hips moving faster now, her eyes closing as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and bobbed her head. 

He felt her climax build, felt his own rolling up from somewhere deep inside him. He urged her to move faster, to ride him harder, and as she did, he increased his pressure on that bead until she let out a soft cry and a sudden burst of wetness accompanied the equally sudden tightness of her clamping all around him. 

He had to move, had to thrust, and did so without thinking, his hips arcing to meet her as his release burned through him. She shuddered with him, her fingernails bit into his chest and they cried out as one as her release triggered his and he erupted in a fiery crescendo of desire and need.

She tightened about him further, quivering and pulsing with him as she threw her head back in surrender and dug her nails harder into his chest. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged, and then she sank against him, fighting for breath, her head coming to rest in the curve of his neck.

His head spun from the force of his release and his own breath fled as well even as he wrapped his arms about her and managed to whisper, “Mesmel… oh… love… you are amazing… know you this?”

A soft laugh skittered across his bare skin, and he shivered at the sensation of her lips grazing the cure of his neck. “I love you,” she whispered back. 

He smiled into the semi-darkness, savoring the silkiness of her hair beneath his fingertips. “I love you, too. Maralmizi.”

“Maralmizi.” She lifted her head, her eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy. “Did I say that right?”

“Almost. Maralmizu is how you would say it to me.”

“Maralmizu?”

“Exactly.” He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, wincing slightly as he slipped from her warmth. 

Nina shifted, stretching out beside him, and draped her arm about his waist, tucked her head into the curve where his shoulder met his chest. He tightened his arm about her, pressing a kiss into the top of her head. “And just so you know, mesmel,” he added with a smile, “you may do that to me any time you wish.”

Her laughter rippled through him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And when I’ve recuperated a bit more,” he murmured as a delicious drowsiness crept over him, “I will do the same to you.”

“I definitely like the sound of that.”

“I thought you might.”

****

Nina awoke to the soft snoring coming from behind her and she peered over her shoulder at Thorin, curved up against her, mouth softly slack in sleep. The infirmary bed was narrow and not really meant for two people, but she found it quite cozy just the same. 

She eased onto her back, then onto her opposite side and as the bed shifted, Thorin slowly opened his eyes, then lifted his head slightly to peer over her. “What time is it?”

“I don't know. There is no clock in here.” She reached down to catch a long, silver-streaked black curl and drew it away from his face. “Will you be in trouble, should someone find you here? Narnerra will be coming through soon.”

“Mesmel,” he winked, “I am the king. No one will scold me for anything I do. But, since I’d rather your reputation not be tattered, I should probably take my leave.”

Her spirits sank, as she was so very cozy there with him, but at the same time, he was probably right. “I’ll be leaving later this morning, remember.”

“I know.” He leaned to kiss her, then slid from the bed and she had to fight back a sigh at the sight of him as he rose and what remained of the candlelight danced over the swells of muscle along his back and legs, over the firm curve of his backside. 

He moved to step into his trousers, then bent and fished his henley from the floor, and stepped into his boots. “In a flat off Stone Street. I’ll find you later.”

“Later?”

He turned, his eyes visibly darkening as she sat up and the sheet slid from her. “Later. I have some business I need tend to first, business that will not wait, I’m afraid. But,” he paused by the door, “I will be round about half seven to take you to supper.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.”

And with that, he was gone, slipping around the door and into the infirmary. She held her breath, waiting to hear Narnerra demand to know what he was doing there at so early an hour. At least, she thought it was early, although she had no way of knowing for certain. 

Either way, she slid from the bed, mindful of both of her healing wounds. They stung despite her careful movements, although the more she moved about, the more quickly the stinging stopped. By the time she’d dressed completely, she only barely felt anything.

Narnerra was at her desk, working on something, and looked up when Nina approached. “Ah, you’re moving about better, Miss Carren.”

“I’m getting there, I suppose.”

“Well, I think you are healed enough to be on your way.”

Narnerra’s voice was light and pleasant, but there was no mistaking the finality of her words. “I do appreciate all that you’ve done for me.”

“Of course. You were wounded in service to Erebor’s king. I would not turn you away for that. But now, it’s time for you to go. Safe travels.”

She smiled and turned back to her desk, indicating their conversation was over and while she had no clue how to find her way back to the front gates, Nina shrugged and left the infirmary. She’d figure it out. After all, it couldn’t be that difficult if Narnerra wasn’t concerned about her being seen out.

Outside the infirmary, Nina went to her left, and when the corridor ended in a T, she went right this time, Left. Right. Up a stone staircase and down another corridor. Left. Right. 

And found herself hopelessly lost. Erebor was immense, and she came to another landing, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her.

Gold. Silver. Gemstones. As far as she could see. Her hands came to rest on the polished stone railing overlooking the sea of treasure. There was enough wealth in that chamber to keep all of Middle Earth housed and fed and clothed for centuries. Enough wealth in that chamber for Thorin to give every warm body in Esgaroth a fortune of their own and he would still have more than enough left over. 

Her mouth went dry and her heart picked up its pace. It would be so easy to go down those stairs, to wade into that sea of riches, and fill her pockets to the point where she would never have to worry about money again. No one would ever notice.

No one would ever know.

And perhaps if she did not love Thorin as much as she did, she would do just that. 

But…

“May I help you?”

Nina gritted her teeth at the sickly sweet sound of Elisin’s voice and slowly turned to find her coming down the very same staircase Nina herself had descended. “Actually, I’m a bit turned around. I’m looking for the front gates.”

“Oh, leaving are you?”

“I am. I’m sufficiently healed and ready to go home.”

“How wonderful for you. Come,” Elision gestured toward the staircase, “I’ll show you. I know this city almost as well as Thorin.”

“Yes, I suppose you do.”

“We’ve been talking about being married,” Elisin said as they made their way up. “I don't know if he’s told you that or not.”

“No,” Nina shook her head, “he’s not. But then, we’ve not had much time to talk.”

“Really? Not even when he came to you last eve?”

Nina looked over at her. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? I saw him come to the infirmary last eve. You were the only one there, so why would he have been there as well, if not for you?”

“You will have to ask him that yourself. He was probably looking for your healer.”

“I did ask him.” Elisin stopped short, snagging Nina’s forearm to halt her. “And what do you suppose he told me?”

The sudden stop meant Nina pulled her stitches and the hot sting soured her mood more than Elisin’s presence eve could. Biting back the oath bubbling to her lips, she whipped about and growled, “How would I know what he told you?”

“You know why he was there. You know exactly why he was there and if you think I don’t know, you are even more stupid than you look.”

“I beg your pardon?” Nina jerked her arm free and stepped back, drawing her sword as she did. “Touch me again, and lose that body part. I am not playing this game with you. If you wish to know why Thorin was in the infirmary, I suggest you actually ask him instead of thinking me fool enough to say anything.”

Elisin stared at the blade, and then at her, and slowly shook her head. “You are mad.”

“No,” Nina told her, “I am not mad. I am sore and I am tired and I am going home.”

“I know why he was there, kunbûna and if you think, for one second, that I will let you take him from me? You are sorely mistaken.”

Although she had no idea what kunbûna meant, Nina knew it was an insult of some sort. Still, she wasn’t about to let Elisin get a rise out of her and so she re-sheathed her sword. “And you think I’m mad. Good day.”

She spun about and strode off without a look back, and this time, thankfully, managed to find her way to the main gate without getting lost. She didn't know how Elisin would react when Thorin told her the truth, but she had the feeling it wouldn’t be at all pleasant. Not one bit. 

[theunbonded]

8

Chradh, Garrick’s brown scorpiontail, slammed into the clearing. Garrick was on the ground within a heartbeat and rushed to my side. 

“Capplynger, are you alright? What happened?”

Lifting the sword above my head, I forced it down into the ox-looking cadet’s chest again, another blood vessel bursting over my face and hands. When I slid the sword out of the mess of the corpse and raised it above my head to repeat the motion, Garrick wrapped his hands around mine, halting the movement.

“Damnit! Beatrice!” His eyes were wild as he bent his head to try and meet mine. I looked for a second before flicking them away, unable to hold eye contact with him. “He’s dead. It’s okay, you’re okay. He’s dead. Just let go of the sword.”

His fingers slowly picked mine from the hilt, tentative as if I would wield the blade against him. When he had the sole grip on the sword, he threw it far into the woods and gently led me away from the demolished body. 

“You’re okay now, I promise. What happened?” Garrick looked up and down my body, assessing for injuries. His hands flexed at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to touch and make certain. My mouth felt like it was filled with cotton and I kept my head towards the ground. There was nothing inside me to answer him with; I was hollow, a husk of a person. “Beatrice. Answer me. Please.”

Silence.

“Fuck, Beatrice. What the fuck happened?”

Silence. 

Both hands were in his hair, pulling at his curls. “I’m getting you out of here. Are you able to fly?” 

Silence.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He ushered me towards Chradh, who bent on his forelegs to allow me to climb up. It was a kind gesture for a wounded cadet. From behind me, Garrick sucked in a breath, and I could feel the soft touch of his fingers as they grazed the skin next to the knife jutting out of my shoulder. Garrick positioned me to sit behind him, and as if he didn’t trust me to hold on, he grabbed both of my arms and wrapped them around his torso, one of his hands gripping both of mine to keep them secured.

Chradh lifted into the air and I found myself folding into Garrick’s back. My forehead pressed into the space between his shoulder blades, the leather cool from flying through the night air. The scent of eucalyptus wrapped around me in a warm embrace. I closed my eyes without fear of what I would see when I opened them for the first time since stepping foot in Basgiath. 

The brown dragon’s landing was so gentle I didn’t realize we had made it until Garrick patted my hands. I had expected to be flown back to the giant stone structures of Basigiath, but instead I found myself on the edge of a lake. The crystal blue water ebbed in time to the beat of Chradh’s wings, and the light of the moon projected across the entire sleek surface.

I tried to climb down the dragon’s back, but my muscles gave out half-way down and I started to slide. Garrick caught me before I could crash and carefully placed me on my feet. He kept a hand on my waist as he guided us towards a large cropping of rocks overlooking the water. His fingers kept twitching and he glanced down at me every other second, like he expected me to tell him to get off and he was concerned why I wasn’t saying anything.

“Sit down here.” He led me to a spot amongst the rocks that was smooth and helped me sit. I couldn’t muster up the energy to be upset that I needed assistance. My thigh felt like it was on fire and I could no longer feel my shoulder, which was scarier than pain.

Garrick knelt in front of me, holding my chin in between his fingers. His grip was soft but there would be no breaking it if I tried to avoid his gaze. “I am going to dress your wounds. That means you’re going to have to take your leathers off. Is that okay? I need you to answer me, Beatrice.”

For a moment there was silence, and then I nodded a single yes. 

He dropped my chin and moved to my back. The ties on the back of my leathers pulled tight as he undid the knot, and then loosened as he undid each section one-by-one until it fell off my back. The portion that got stuck around the knife in my shoulder was quickly chopped away with his own blade. 

Then the back of my shirt was cut open. A chill went up my spine at the sudden vulnerability. 

“I am going to take the knife out now.” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

Like cutting through butter, the blade was taken out of my shoulder slowly and smoothly. When its jagged point was finally gone, pain finally erupted through my shoulder.

A cry escaped my lips, and Garrick immediately lifted my arm up to begin wrapping the wound. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s almost done.”

Pressure helped subdue the pain and I was grateful that Garrick seemed to know what he was doing. My shoulder was wrapped in no time. 

He came back around towards my front and looked meaningfully down at the cut at my thigh. I nodded again, and he reached for the button at the top of my waistband. I lifted my hips for him and he slid the material down my thighs, stopping just at the bottom of my wound. I felt no embarrassment to only be wearing my black rider’s underwear in front of this man. Maybe I had stopped caring.

Garrick lifted my leg into his lap. The blunt edge of his nails traced the line of my thigh before he began wrapping it in cloth. Around and around it went. Memorized, I watched his long fingers quickly work the cloth around my thigh and tie it in a neat knot. They were the hands of a soldier, a warrior, yet they were so careful. 

“What happened out there, Beatrice?” My leg was still in his lap. His hand was slowly rubbing up and down my ankle, leaving a trail of warmth. Another shiver racked my spine.

My tongue darted out and licked moisture onto my lips. They felt too dry. “Do I look that bad?” I croaked out. 

Relief flooded his features as he gave me a small smile. “No. You’ve never looked bad.”

I held my hands out in front of me. Still shaking, they were a mixture of brown and red. I couldn’t see my skin through the grime that covered them. “My pants.”

“What about your pants?” He asked. 

“Can you get them off?”

Garrick seemed to stop breathing for a second, but then he grabbed my left ankle and unlaced my boot, sliding it off and setting it beside him. He moved on to my right ankle and repeated the process. Then he slid his forefingers into the waistband of my pants and slipped them down my legs.

Clad in only underwear and a shirt barely hanging onto my shoulders, I watched him fold my pants and place them next to my boots. Then I staggered to my feet, gripping his shoulders to support myself when I swayed. 

“What are you doing?” He grabbed my waist to steady me, but dropped it when I let go of his shoulders. I walked past him and went to the edge of the rock. The water rippled below in small waves below me. 

I stepped off the edge.

The water rushed above my head, the force of my fall pulling my shirt away from my body. The lake was cold and shocked my system awake. I allowed myself to float underneath the surface until my chest began to compress upon itself. Then I pushed myself up and broke the water’s surface. 

“You’re fucking crazy. I hope you know that!” Garrick yelled. He had climbed down to a rock that was directly above the water and was crouching to be near my level. It was like we were back in the sparring gym. 

I untied my hair from its braid and ran my fingers through it, letting it flow free. Popping my head back under the water, I scrubbed my face until I couldn’t feel any more dirt or blood on my skin. When I came back up, Garrick had taken off his boots, rolled up his pants, and placed his feet in the water.

I swam toward Garrick and treaded water in front of him.

“Am I crazy?” I asked. It was meant to come out as snarky, but I couldn’t hide the vulnerability in my voice.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t mean that.”

“But I must have been.” I swam towards him, resting my hands on the rock between his legs. “You saw it. Everyone saw it. I was so obsessed with myself for what? I can’t show my face at Basgiath tomorrow. I can never go home.”

“There is nothing wrong with being Unbonded. You will try again next year and-”

I rose up on my arms so we were face-to-face. My hair covered my breasts, but his eyes still glanced down quickly before coming back to mine. His thighs, on either side of my hips, applied a tiny bit of pressure. “Do you ever just listen instead of trying to solve my problems?”

His throat bobbed. “I can work on that.”

“My father always said there were two types of people in the world: the ones that won, and everyone else. I have always been a winner. What am I supposed to do now that I… well, now that I have failed him? He’ll know when I don’t send him a letter after graduation. I don’t know what to do, I-” I choked on the words.

The side of his palm brushed the side of my cheek and I leaned into the warmth. “You asked what happened during Threshing? I was turned away by every dragon. And when I thought nothing could go worse, those three boys tried to kill me, so I killed them first.”

“I’m glad you did,” Garrick murmured. “You protected yourself.”

“Garrick, what am I supposed to do?”

“You deal with it tomorrow. Tonight, you can let your emotions out. There is no one here but you and me. Scream, cry, break whatever you need. But when we get back to Basgiath, you make a game plan, because the Beatrice I know wouldn’t let this define her.”

Our eyes locked. There was a promise in his, something I couldn’t read into at that moment, but I knew that he was right. I had to let all of this out right here. 

His palms slid into mine as I lowered myself back into the water, anchoring me to him, and once my head was submerged I stayed until the water filled my lungs and blackened my vision.

--

Masterlist

[thebalancewentwrong]

A theory about the dragons

Major Tears of the Kingdom spoilers, proceed at your own risk!

So I hope if you are reading this you know that In Tears of the Kingdom we learn that the dragons we see in Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom were not actually born dragons but became them through the act of ‘Dragonification’.

This of course is a major plot detail that pertains to the true identity of the Light Dragon of which we learn from the memories that indeed Zelda swallowed a sceret stone to transform herself into the Light Dragon, thus commiting Dragonification.

As awesome as this reveal was (even though it was spoiled for me) naturally one of my first thoughts when I heard about dragonification is “what about these guys?”

Farosh,

Dinraal,

and Naydra.

Who are they? One can only presume that they must have been something before becoming dragons right? We know that Dragonification has happened before Zelda did it as the way Mineru speaks of it implys it’s been done before, perhaps multiple times, enough to be considered “forbidden” at the very least.

At first I thought they could perhaps be the ancient sages, or maybe even Rauru or Sonia? But no... none of them quite line up.

Instead I propose that perhaps they are different characters in the Zelda universe all together.

I believe they could be the original 3 godesses, Din, Farore and Nayru.

Now you’re probably thinking “That’s dumb, obviously their names are similiar because they are just references to the original goddesses”. And yes I thought so too for a while.

But I began to think about how it seems like the BotW/ TotK universe is slightly different from what we know. I began to wonder if the events we heard that had occured in games Like OoT played out slightly differently. Especially considering what we now know of the Zonai.

In Ocarina of Time the 3 goddess were said to create the universe: the land, the law and the living things. After which they ascended back into the heavens leaving only the triforce behind.

The Zonai are said to have decended from the heavens, very similiar to gods.

I wonder if perhaps the 3 goddesses were Zonai themselves and used their secret stones to create the lands we know.

But the Zonai began to dissapear, it isn’t fully explained what happened to them but I wonder if the goddesses knew they had a lmited time and decided the best thing to do in order to keep watch over the land they created was by swallowing their secret stones so that they could still be around forever.

And maybe, over time their names were forgotten or scewed to the names of the dragons we now know? Maybe even it’s just the names of their dragon forms? Similiar to how many refer to the Light Dragon not as Zelda but rather it’s own entity that Zelda transformed into.

Now don’t get me wrong. I know this all a bit of a leap. Despite how much TotK taught us about the dragons, we still know very little. And truth be told, I was skeptical on this theory as well until I gained one more piece of knowledge about the dragons.

All of them are confirmed to be female. As confirmed by the goddess statues themselves

I found that to be a facinating detail, to deliberately gender them all like that.

And speaking of the goddess statues, they also have a very peculiar connection to the dragons. In both games the goddess statues request for you to bring a piece of the respective dragons to them. This has gotta imply some deep connection between the goddesses and the dragons right?

None of the Goddess statues ever mention Zelda or The Light Dragon, which would make sense as she’s not really a goddess.

Naturally you can make you’re own conclusions but this is all just a random theory I came up with today, feel free to disagree or even share your own theory! I’d be happy to hear them!

Anyway I have a couple more TotK things I wanna post soon, another dumb text dump and a stupid little drawing I wanna make lol. Maybe I’ll do them in the next couple days.

[coffeeghoulie]

Cumulus and Sunny my not-so-secret beloveds for #7?

#7: to shut them up

sunny's a nerd and cumulus loves that for her, hope you enjoy <3

from this prompt list

It's a quiet Saturday in the band ghoul den, a rarity, and Cumulus means to take advantage of the temporary respite from the chaos. She curls her legs under her in one of the large armchairs in the common room, turning a skein of yarn over in her hands.

It's impossibly soft, a variegated thing that fades from deep, rich navy to a light silver, and she thinks it would be perfect for a scarf for Rain. The poor thing doesn't fair well in the cold Abbey winters.

She pulls one of her hooks out from where she tucked it behind her ear and pulls up a video on her phone; she'd been meaning to teach herself a new stitch. If it didn't turn out quite right the first time, oh well, she can always frog the thing.

Cumulus chains for a few moments until it's long enough for the short side of a scarf, pausing the video as the woman explains how to form the stitch, how many chains to skip and where to work the next one. She hums, following along slowly until she begins to get the hang of it.

It doesn't take long for the peace she's taking advantage of to be broken. Pounding footsteps echo down the hall, and if Cumulus couldn't pick up the citrus and fresh air smell of one of her packmates, one of her girls, her hackles would have raised, ruffled feathers and pinned back ears.

Instead, Sunshine bursts into the common room, copper curls bouncing as she looks around, eyes alight as she makes eye contact with the air ghoulette.

"Lu! Songbird!" She calls, grinning ear to ear and giving Swiss a run for his money.

"Hi, sparky," Cumulus says, eyes flicking back down to the yarn in her hands, not quite confident enough to do this new stitch blind. "You're done for the day?"

Sunny bounds over, tail wagging like an over enthusiastic labrador retriever. "Yep, just finished session zero, everybody's got their characters made. We start actually playing next week."

Cumulus hums politely. She knows that Sunshine's playing Dungeons and Dragons with some of the other ghouls; Special running the table and Cowbell one of their regular players since before she had been summoned. But in recent years, Sunshine's joined in, as well as two especially brave Siblings, and their newest player, Aeon.

"I'm playing a wild magic sorcerer named Aveline, she's human but that gives me a plus one buff to all of my ability scores-" she rambles, clambering into Cumulus's lap like an excessively needy cat, nudging the top of her head underneath Cumulus's chin.

The air ghoulette laughs, reaching around her lapful of multighoulette to pause the video on her phone as Sunshine keeps talking. "Aeon's got a half-elven rogue named Vox, stereotypical, I know, but it's easy enough for them to keep track of, no spell slots to worry about, just gotta get behind people and rack up that sneak attack damage."

Cumulus hums, grinning as she tucks her hook back behind her feathered ear. She watches for a moment as Sunshine gestures loudly as she keeps talking, rules and stats that she's explained a dozen times over but Cumulus has never been able to keep straight in her mind. Her eyes go soft as Sunny keeps talking, tail wagging so fast the spade thumps against the armchair, nearly knocking Cumulus's phone off of the arm. Something warm swells in her chest, a feeling that's never far off when Sunshine enters the room.

Cumulus can't take it anymore, acting on that warm feeling and grabbing Sunny's cheeks, pulling her down to cut off her ramble with a big kiss. It's worth it to see Sunny's brain shut off, train of thought completely derailed. Her feathers ruffle with a smug grin at the dumbfounded expression on her face.

"What was that for?" Sunny complains, whining. But Cumulus knows better, wrapping her arms around Sunny's waist and pulling her more securely onto her lap.

"I love it when you're passionate, Spark. Tell me more."

Sunny, ever eager, is happy to comply.

[novaursa]

Part 15

- Title: zōbrie ānogar

- Rating: Explicit (18+)

- Romance: (Aegon II/OFC)

- Warning: All flags are up for this work. Aegon is also a warning on his own.

- Summary: It was written by Archmaester Gyldayn that on the day Princess Vaella Targaryen was born she was supposed to die. Until she fed upon her twin, Baelon. And when she turned one and five, she sought her end in the lair of Cannibal, in Dragonmont. But instead of feasting upon her, the dragon wept with her. And Archmaester had written a lengthy thesis on how wild dragon recognized a kindred soul in the Princess, as they both dined on their kin.

- Word count: 9 000+

- Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, Final

As the carriage rolled through the streets of King’s Landing, Aegon’s heart pounded with anticipation. The sight of the Dragonpit in the distance brought both relief and anxiety. He feared what condition he might find his wife in, but the hope of seeing her outweighed his fears.

The carriage came to a halt, and Aegon leaned heavily on Orwyle as he disembarked. He scanned the area, his eyes searching for any sign of Vaella. Finally, he saw her, surrounded by Kingsguard, her once-pristine appearance marred by blood and ash. His heart clenched at the sight.

“Vaella!” he called out, his voice breaking with emotion.

Vaella turned at the sound of his voice, her eyes lighting up despite her exhaustion. “Aegon,” she replied, her steps quickening as she moved towards him.

The Kingsguard parted to allow her through, and in moments, Vaella was in Aegon’s arms. They embraced tightly, the world around them disappearing as they held each other. Aegon’s hands gently cupped her face, his eyes scanning her features with desperate concern.

“You’re here,” Aegon whispered, his voice trembling. “You’re safe.”

Vaella nodded, tears filling her eyes. “We made it back. Cannibal and I… we made it.”

Aegon’s gaze traveled over her, taking in the blood and ash that covered her. His heart ached with worry. “Are you hurt? The baby—”

“We’re okay,” Vaella assured him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. “Just exhausted and bruised, but we’re safe.”

Aegon let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him. He pulled her closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I was so afraid, Vaella. When I saw Cannibal’s flight, I feared the worst.”

Vaella leaned into his embrace, drawing strength from his presence. “It was close, Aegon. We faced Vermithor. It was a battle like no other.”

Aegon’s eyes widened with shock. “Vermithor? Gods, Vaella, how did you…?”

“Cannibal fought bravely,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “We barely made it out. Vermithor is dead.”

Aegon’s eyes softened, his love for her shining through. “You’re incredible. The strength you showed… I’m in awe of you.”

Vaella smiled weakly, her fatigue evident. “I had to survive. For you, for our children.”

“And you did,” Aegon said firmly. “You came back to me, to us.”

Vaella hesitated for a moment, then began, “Aemond—”

But Aegon shook his head, cutting her off gently. “I don’t want to talk about my brother right now. All that matters is that you’re safe.”

Vaella nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you, Aegon. I just needed to see you, to know that we’re together.”

He kissed her gently, pouring all his relief and love into the kiss. “We’re together, and that’s all that matters.”

The Grand Maester approached, his eyes filled with concern. “Your Graces, we must see to the queen’s wounds immediately.”

Aegon nodded, his grip on Vaella’s hand tightening. “Do whatever is necessary. She and our child must be safe.”

Vaella looked up at Aegon, her eyes filled with gratitude and love. “We’re home, Aegon. We’re safe.”

Aegon smiled, his heart swelling with emotion. “Yes, Vaella. We’re home, and we’ll face whatever comes next.”

As the attendants led Vaella away to be treated, Aegon watched her go, his heart full of love and pride. The challenges ahead were great, but with Vaella by his side, he knew they could overcome anything. Together, they would face the future with all the strength and determination of House Targaryen.

The Kingsguard, having ensured the queen's safe return, stood by respectfully. Aegon turned to them, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Thank you for bringing her back safely."

The captain of the Kingsguard bowed deeply. "It was our honor, Your Grace. The queen showed incredible bravery."

Aegon nodded, his chest swelling with pride. "She always does. Now, let's make sure she gets the care she needs."

As they made their way back to the Red Keep, Aegon couldn't help but replay the events of the past hours in his mind. The sight of Vaella covered in blood and ash haunted him, but the knowledge that she had returned, safe and alive, gave him the strength to face whatever lay ahead.

…

The corridors of the Red Keep were a blur as Vaella was escorted to her shared chambers with Aegon. The exhaustion weighed heavily on her, but the comfort of being home and the presence of her husband gave her strength. Once inside, she promised Aegon that she would see their children, Baelon and Daena, after she had cleansed herself of the blood and dirt.

"I'll see them soon," Vaella said, her voice soft but resolute. "I don't want them to see me like this."

Aegon nodded, understanding. "They will be overjoyed to see you, Vaella. But first, you need to rest and recover."

The attendants prepared a warm bath, the steam rising gently in the air. Aegon helped Vaella to the edge of the tub, his hands gentle but firm despite his own struggles. Every step was a reminder of his physical limitations, the pain from his still-healing hip and burns that refused to heal still. He moved slowly, but his determination to help his wife overshadowed the discomfort. Vaella slipped into the water, letting out a sigh of relief as the warmth enveloped her aching body. Aegon settled into a chair nearby, wincing slightly as he adjusted his position, his eyes never leaving her.

The silence between them was comfortable, a silent understanding that words were not necessary at that moment. Aegon watched as Vaella slowly washed away the grime and blood, her movements deliberate and weary. The water turned murky, a testament to the battles she had faced.

After a long while, Vaella looked up, meeting Aegon's gaze. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of weariness and something deeper, something darker. Aegon sensed it immediately, a knot of concern tightening in his chest.

"Vaella," he said gently, "what is it? What's troubling you?"

Vaella hesitated, her hands stilling in the water. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "

Aegon, there's something I need to tell you. Something that happened after Vermithor fell."

Aegon leaned forward, his eyes filled with concern despite the pain the movement caused him. "You can tell me anything, Vaella. What happened?"

Vaella's gaze dropped to the water, her fingers tracing patterns on its surface. "After Cannibal took Vermithor down, we... we were both injured, exhausted. But there was this compulsion, this primal urge that I couldn't resist."

Aegon's brow furrowed. "What kind of urge?"

Vaella's voice trembled slightly as she continued. "Cannibal began to feast on Vermithor. And... and I joined him. Vermithor was still alive, and I couldn't stop myself. I tore into his flesh, ate it raw. It was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I felt stronger, more connected to Cannibal, but it was horrifying."

Aegon was silent for a moment, processing her words. The horror of what she described was evident on his face, but so was his empathy and understanding. "Vaella," he said softly, "you've been through so much. The bond between a dragon and its rider is powerful, and in such extreme circumstances... I'm just relieved that you’re alive."

Vaella looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I was scared, Aegon. I didn’t recognize myself in that moment. I felt like I was losing control."

Aegon stood, wincing as he moved, and made his way to the edge of the tub, kneeling beside her with a slight grimace. He took her hands in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "You are the strongest person I know, Vaella. You faced something unimaginable and survived. That’s what matters. We’ll figure this out together."

Vaella squeezed his hands, drawing strength from his presence. "Thank you, Aegon. I was afraid you’d see me differently."

Aegon shook his head, his eyes full of love. "Never. You are my queen, my love, the mother of our children. Nothing will change that."

They sat in silence for a moment, the bond between them growing even stronger in the face of adversity. Vaella finished her bath, and Aegon helped her out, his movements careful and deliberate due to his own injuries. He wrapped her in a soft, warm towel and led her to the bed, where she could rest and recover from her ordeal.

As Vaella lay down, Aegon brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Rest now, my love. We’ll face whatever comes next together."

Vaella nodded, her eyes already heavy with sleep. "Together," she murmured, closing her eyes.

Aegon watched her for a long moment, his heart swelling with love and pride. As the night deepened, the sounds of the Red Keep quieted, leaving only the soft, steady breathing of Vaella as she slept. Aegon sat beside her, his hand resting on hers, a silent guardian in the darkness. They were home, and together, they would find their way through the shadows that lay ahead.

…

On the storm-swept island of Dragonstone, preparations were underway for the departure of Princes Aegon and Viserys Targaryen. The decision, made by Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, was for his half-brothers to be fostered with the Prince of Pentos until their mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, had secured the Iron Throne. The princes would depart on a Pentoshi cog named the Gay Abandon, with seven warships from the Sea Snake's fleet to escort them across the Narrow Sea.

The docks were a hive of activity as sailors, soldiers, and courtiers prepared for the journey. The air was filled with the sounds of shouting orders, the creaking of ship timbers, and the lapping of waves against the stone piers. Amidst this organized chaos, Rhaenyra stood with her sons, her expression a mask of calm resolve despite the turmoil in her heart.

"Mother," young Prince Aegon said, his voice trembling slightly. "Will we be safe in Pentos?"

Rhaenyra knelt to his level, her hands resting gently on his shoulders. "You will be safe, my sweet. The Prince of Pentos is a trusted ally, and the Sea Snake's ships will protect you on your journey."

Viserys, who was younger and more apprehensive, clung to Rhaenyra's skirts. "Will you come for us, Mother? When you are queen?"

Rhaenyra's eyes softened as she looked at her youngest son. "Yes, Viserys. I will come for you as soon as I can. This is only temporary, until we secure the throne."

Jacaerys stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Aegon's shoulder. "I will make sure they are well taken care of, Mother. They will be safe in Pentos."

Rhaenyra stood, her gaze sweeping over the bustling docks before turning back to her sons. "Remember who you are," she said firmly. "You are Targaryens. Blood of the dragon. Stay strong and stay safe."

With final embraces and whispered words of love, the princes were led aboard the Gay Abandon. The Sea Snake’s warships, their sails unfurled, prepared to escort the vessel. As the ships began to move away from the dock, Rhaenyra stood tall, watching them until they disappeared over the horizon.

Once the princes were safely on their way, Rhaenyra turned to Daemon, who had been watching silently. His expression was one of grim determination. "We need to focus on the next steps," she said, her voice steady.

Daemon nodded, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Indeed. I received word this morning—Vaella and Cannibal managed to kill Hugh Hammer and Vermithor."

Rhaenyra's expression hardened. "Vaella? She always was formidable."

"Formidable, yes," Daemon agreed. "But Cannibal is badly wounded. Not the outcome we hoped for, but it is still favorable. This could be an opportunity for us."

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

Daemon's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "With Aemond and Vhagar away from the capital, King's Landing is more vulnerable. Cannibal, in his weakened state, might not be able to defend it effectively. We could exploit this and strike while they are off guard."

Rhaenyra considered his words carefully. "It's a risk, but it could give us the advantage we need. What about the defenses at King's Landing?"

"The city will still be heavily guarded," Daemon acknowledged. "But without Aemond and Vhagar, their dragon strength is significantly reduced. We need to act swiftly and decisively."

Rhaenyra nodded, her resolve firming. "We will need to gather our forces and plan meticulously. If we can take the capital, we can turn the tide of this war."

Daemon's lips curved into a predatory smile. "Then we move quickly. We will strike before they have a chance to recover. I'll send word to our allies and begin preparations."

As Daemon strode away to organize their forces, Rhaenyra looked out over the sea, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and plans. The news of Vaella's victory and the loss of Vermithor was significant, but it was clear that their enemies would not be easily defeated. They would have to be cunning and relentless.

A shadow passed over her, and Rhaenyra turned to see her dragon, Syrax, circling overhead. The sight of the golden dragon filled her with a renewed sense of purpose. She was a Targaryen, and she would not rest until she sat upon the Iron Throne.

…

The dawn was still breaking over the Narrow sea as the Triarchy’s fleet swept into the Gullet, the waters around Dragonstone coming alive with the movement of ninety warships under the banners of the Three Daughters. The fleet, commanded by Admiral Sharako Lohar of Lys, had split into two squadrons, entering the Gullet from the north and south, catching House Velaryon’s fleet off guard.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, aboard his dragon Vermax, was quick to respond. The morning sky blazed with the rising sun as Jacaerys flew out to meet the advancing enemy. Below him, the Lysene galleys cut through the water, their crews shouting and readying their weapons. These sailors were no strangers to dragonfire, having faced Prince Daemon Targaryen and Caraxes during the war for the Stepstones. Yet, the sight of Vermax descending upon them filled their hearts with dread.

"Hold steady!" Sharako Lohar commanded from his flagship, his voice carrying across the deck. "Focus your fire on the dragon! Bring it down!"

Spears and arrows were loosed into the sky, a deadly hail aimed at Jacaerys and his dragon. But Vermax was swift, his powerful wings slicing through the air as he breathed fire upon the ships below. One Lysene galley caught fire, then another, the flames spreading rapidly across the decks.As the sailors cried out in panic, their captains tried to maintain order. "Stay your course! Keep firing!"

The battle intensified as Ulf the White on Silverwing, Nettles on Sheepstealer, and Addam Velaryon on Seasmoke joined the fray. The sky was filled with dragons and the roar of their fire, the smell of burning wood and flesh thick in the air. The Triarchy’s warships faltered, their line breaking as one galley after another turned away from the onslaught.

"To the south!" a captain shouted, trying to regroup his men. "We must hold the line!"

But the dragons were relentless, their riders directing them with precision and fury. Silverwing’s golden fire rained down upon the ships, while Sheepstealer’s dark form swooped low, scattering sailors with its terrible roar. Seasmoke darted between the vessels, his rider Addam directing their fire with deadly accuracy.

In the midst of the chaos, Vermax flew too low, caught in the crossfire. A Myrish crossbowman, taking careful aim, loosed a bolt that struck the dragon in the eye. Vermax roared in pain, his flight faltering. Below, a burning galley’s grapnel hooked onto the dragon’s wing, pulling him down into the sea. Vermax struggled, entangled in the rigging, his flames sputtering out as he sank beneath the waves.

"Jacaerys!" Addam Velaryon shouted, his voice barely audible over the din of battle.

Jacaerys leapt from Vermax’s back, landing in the water with a splash. He swam for the shore, but the Myrish crossbowmen were ready. A volley of bolts flew through the air, striking the prince. Jacaerys’ body went limp, floating on the surface as blood spread around him.

North and south of Dragonstone, the battle raged on into the night. The northern squadron clashed with the remaining Velaryon fleet, the sounds of steel and cannon fire echoing across the water. The southern squadron, bypassing Dragonstone, set their sights on Driftmark.

"We cannot assault Dragonstone directly," Sharako Lohar decided, his eyes scanning the defenses. "It is too well fortified. But Driftmark... Driftmark is vulnerable."

The fleet altered course, heading for the island. The first rays of the setting sun cast an eerie glow over the harbor of Spicetown as the Triarchy’s fire ships approached. Flames erupted, consuming the docks and spreading into the town. The inhabitants fled in terror, but there was little escape from the inferno.

"Burn it all!" Sharako commanded, watching with cold satisfaction.

Driftmark's harbor was a scene of chaos and destruction. Houses and shops were engulfed in flames, and the screams of the dying filled the air. Myrish and Tyroshi soldiers poured into the town, slaughtering the inhabitants and looting what they could before the flames consumed everything.

"Leave nothing standing," a Tyroshi captain ordered, his men cutting down anyone in their path.

High Tide, the seat of House Velaryon, was next. The Myrish and Tyroshi soldiers stormed the castle, setting fire to its grand halls and priceless treasures. Lord Corlys Velaryon’s servants were cut down as they tried to flee, the bodies left as carrion for the crows.

"Take everything of value," a Myrish officer commanded, his eyes gleaming with greed. "Burn the rest."

As night fell, Driftmark was a smoldering ruin, the flames visible from Dragonstone. The southern squadron of the Triarchy’s fleet sailed away, leaving destruction in their wake. The battle of the Gullet had ended, but the cost was high. Jacaerys Velaryon was dead, Vermax lost to the depths, and Driftmark lay in ashes. Aegon the Younger and Viserys were lost, with no word of them. And Aegon’s small dragon, Stormcloud, was seen plummeting to the depths after he was striked numerous times with crossbow arrows.

On Dragonstone, Rhaenyra received the news with a heavy heart. The loss of her son was a blow from which she would never fully recover, but her resolve hardened. She would avenge their children and reclaim what was rightfully hers.

"Daemon," she said quietly, her voice filled with cold fury. "We will strike back. They will pay for this."

Daemon’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "Yes, they will. And we will make sure they never forget the price of defying a Targaryen."

As the embers of Driftmark's destruction smoldered, the fires of vengeance burned brightly in Rhaenyra’s heart. The war was far from over, and she would see to it that the dragons’ wrath would be felt by all who opposed her.

…

The council chamber of the Red Keep was a hive of activity as the lords and advisors of the Greens gathered to discuss the latest developments in the war. The news from the Gullet had reached them, bringing a mixture of relief and concern. Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, was already present, his face a mask of steely determination. Dowager Queen Alicent, Grand Maester Orwyle, Lords Jasper Wylde, Larys Strong, and Tyland Lannister took their seats around the table, the weight of their responsibilities evident on their faces.

The door opened, and King Aegon II Targaryen entered, moving with a newfound strength and purpose. Though still bearing the marks of his injuries, he was well enough to participate in the council once more. He took his seat at the head of the table, his eyes scanning the faces of his advisors.

"Your Grace," Lord Tyland Lannister began, his voice respectful. "It is good to see you well enough to join us again. We have much to discuss."

Aegon nodded, his expression serious. "Indeed, Lord Tyland. Let us begin."

Tyland glanced at the others before continuing. "Firstly, we have received word that our allies in the Triarchy have achieved a significant victory at the Gullet. They have broken the blockade and secured the passage. Admiral Sharako Lohar's strategy proved effective."

Otto Hightower leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Our alliance with the Triarchy is paying off, as I knew it would. This victory strengthens our position considerably."

Dowager Queen Alicent nodded, her expression a mix of relief and caution. "This is indeed good news, but we must remain vigilant. Rhaenyra will not take this defeat lightly."

Lord Jasper Wylde, the Ironrod, spoke up. "How fares the Queen, Your Grace? Her role in the battle was pivotal."

Aegon's eyes softened as he thought of Vaella. "She is resting. The fight with Vermithor took a toll on her, but she is strong. Grand Maester Orwyle has assured me that she will recover."

Orwyle nodded in agreement. "The Queen is resilient. She needs time to heal, both physically and emotionally. Her strength and courage are a beacon for us all."

Jasper then shifted his focus. "And Cannibal? What of the dragon's condition?"

Aegon's expression turned grave. "Cannibal is also recovering, but it will take months before he is fully healed. The injuries he sustained were severe."

Alicent's face tightened with worry. "Rhaenyra will undoubtedly retaliate for this defeat. The loss of her sons will drive her to desperate measures."

Otto cleared his throat, drawing the council's attention. "I have received word from our allies that one of Rhaenyra's sons, young Viserys, has been taken hostage. This could prove to be a significant advantage for us."

The room fell silent, the gravity of Otto's words sinking in. Aegon frowned, his mind racing with the implications. "Viserys is a valuable bargaining chip, but we must tread carefully. Rhaenyra's wrath will be fierce."

Larys Strong, the Master of Whisperers, spoke up, his voice smooth and calculating. "We should use this to our advantage. Rhaenyra's desperation could lead her to make mistakes. We must be prepared to exploit any weaknesses."

Tyland nodded in agreement. "The blockade at the Gullet may be broken, but we cannot afford to be complacent. Our defenses must be strengthened, and our strategies carefully planned."

Alicent looked at her son, her eyes filled with concern. "Aegon, you must be cautious. Rhaenyra's anger knows no bounds, and she will stop at nothing to claim the throne."

Aegon reached out and took his mother's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I understand, Mother. We will proceed with caution and strength. We have come too far to falter now."

Otto leaned forward, his eyes meeting Aegon's. "Your Grace, we must also consider our next moves carefully. Rhaenyra's forces may be weakened, but they are not defeated. We need to press our advantage and ensure our allies remain committed to our cause."

Aegon nodded, his resolve firm. "We will. Our victory at the Gullet is just the beginning. We must remain united and vigilant. Together, we will secure the Iron Throne and bring peace to the realm."

The council members nodded in agreement, their faces reflecting a shared determination. 

As the meeting drew to a close, Aegon rose from his seat, wincing slightly as the movement caused a twinge of pain in his hip. He looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each of his advisors. "Thank you for your counsel. We will face whatever comes next with strength and unity. For the realm, and for our future."

…

The morning air over King’s Landing was filled with an uneasy stillness. The people of the city went about their daily routines, but an undercurrent of tension lingered. The war between the Blacks and the Greens had cast a long shadow over the capital, and everyone sensed that a storm was brewing.

The silence was abruptly shattered by the thunderous roar of dragon wings. High above Aegon's High Hill, two great dragons circled—Prince Daemon Targaryen on Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, and Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen on Syrax, the golden beauty. Their massive forms blotted out the sun, casting dark shadows over the city below. The sight of the dragons sent waves of panic through the streets of King's Landing.

"Dragons! Dragons above the city!" a merchant cried out, dropping his wares as he fled towards the safety of his home.

People screamed and ran in all directions, seeking cover from the terrifying sight. The city had seen dragons before, but never like this—never as harbingers of war and destruction. The sheer presence of Daemon and Rhaenyra on their dragons was enough to sow chaos and fear among the populace.

Cannibal, grounded near the Dragonpit due to his injuries, sensed the arrival of the rival dragons. His roars echoed through the stone halls of the Red Keep, a mix of pain and frustration. The mighty dragon’s cries shook the very foundations of the castle, causing the servants and guards to cower in fear.

Queen Dowager Alicent Hightower paced the council chamber, her face a mask of anxiety. "We must send word to Aemond," she insisted, her voice tight with urgency. "We need reinforcements. Riders! Ravens! Now!"

Lord Tyland Lannister and Lord Jasper Wylde exchanged uneasy glances. "The city is in turmoil, Your Grace," Tyland said cautiously. "It may be difficult to get word out quickly."

Alicent's eyes blazed with determination. "We have no choice. Do whatever it takes."

Grand Maester Orwyle nodded, standing from his seat. "I will dispatch the ravens immediately."

Unbeknownst to Alicent and the other members of the council, the gold cloaks, the City Watch of King’s Landing, had already turned. Their loyalty lay with Daemon Targaryen, who had once been their commander. The gold cloaks moved swiftly, ensuring that the defenses of the city were compromised.

As Orwyle made his way to the rookery, he was intercepted by a group of gold cloaks. "What is this?" he demanded, his voice filled with authority.

The leader of the gold cloaks, a man named Luthor, stepped forward. "I'm afraid you won't be sending any ravens today, Grand Maester."

Orwyle's eyes widened in shock and realization. "You traitors! Do you know what you're doing?"

Luthor’s expression was cold and resolute. "We are restoring the true order. Seize him!"

The gold cloaks moved with practiced efficiency, grabbing Orwyle and binding his hands. Despite his struggles, the old man was overpowered and led away, his cries for help echoing through the halls.

Meanwhile, amidst this turmoil, Lord Larys Strong moved swiftly through the hidden passageways of the Red Keep. His mission was clear: to smuggle King Aegon II and his family to safety.

In the depths of the Keep, Ser Willis Fell and Ser Rickard Thorne stood guard at a concealed entrance to the secret tunnels. They awaited the arrival of Queen Vaella and her children, Princess Daena and Prince Baelor. The plan was set: Aegon and his family would be escorted separately to increase their chances of escape.

"Where are they?" Ser Rickard muttered, his eyes scanning the darkness.

"Patience," Ser Willis replied, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "They will be here soon."

As if on cue, Vaella appeared, holding Daena's hand while Baelor clung to her side. Her face was pale but resolute, her steps steady despite the fear that gripped her heart.

"Mother, where is Father?" Daena asked, her voice trembling.

"He is safe, my love," Vaella assured her, forcing a smile. "We will see him soon."

Ser Willis stepped forward, bowing slightly. "My lady, we must hurry. The city is no longer safe."

Vaella nodded, tightening her grip on her children's hands. "Lead the way."

As they moved deeper into the passageways, the air grew cooler, the walls damp and rough. The sounds of the city in turmoil were muffled but still present, a constant reminder of the danger they were fleeing.

In another part of the Keep, Larys guided Aegon through the narrow, twisting corridors. Aegon's injuries had not yet fully healed, and every step was a struggle, but his determination to protect his family kept him moving.

"We are almost there, Your Grace," Larys said quietly. "The boat is waiting just outside the Red Keep."

Aegon nodded, his jaw set in determination. "We must ensure Vaella and the children are safe. That is all that matters."

Larys's eyes flickered with understanding. "They will be, Your Grace. Trust in Ser Willis and Ser Rickard."

As they approached the exit, a sudden, sharp cry echoed through the passageways, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. Larys and Aegon exchanged a worried glance, their pace quickening.

Meanwhile, in the other passage, Vaella suddenly stumbled, a sharp pain radiating through her abdomen. She gasped, clutching her belly as the realization hit her.

"The baby... it's coming," she whispered, her face contorting in pain.

Ser Willis's eyes widened in alarm. "Here? Now?"

Vaella nodded, her breath coming in short, labored gasps. "I can't move... the baby is coming."

Ser Rickard quickly scanned the passageway, spotting a small alcove just ahead. "This way," he said, guiding them to the sheltered spot. "We need to help her."

Vaella sank to the ground, her face pale and covered in sweat. Daena and Baelor clung to her, their eyes wide with fear.

"Mother, what's happening?" Baelor asked, his voice trembling.

Vaella managed a weak smile, her hand reaching out to stroke his hair. "It's all right, my sweet. The baby is coming."

Ser Willis knelt beside her, his expression one of determination. "We'll get through this, my lady. Just breathe."

As Vaella labored, Ser Willis and Ser Rickard did their best to assist her, their movements careful and deliberate. The children stayed close by, their presence a source of comfort and strength for their mother.

In the other passage, Aegon and Larys reached the exit, where a small boat waited at the water's edge. The sight of it brought a mix of relief and anxiety.

"We made it," Aegon said, his voice filled with both hope and concern. "But Vaella..."

Larys placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "They will be here soon, Your Grace. Trust in your knights."

Aegon nodded, but his heart ached with worry. He looked back at the entrance, willing his family to appear. 

As the labor continued in the hidden alcove, the sounds of the distant city seemed to fade away, replaced by the quiet strength of a family fighting to survive. Vaella's breaths came in short, determined bursts, her will to bring their child into the world unyielding.

Ser Willis and Ser Rickard remained by her side, their presence a steady anchor in the storm of labor. The children held their mother’s hands, their faces filled with a mixture of fear and awe.

The dimly lit alcove in the secret passageway was filled with the tense anticipation of labor. The stone walls seemed to close in around them, the air thick with the mingled scents of damp earth and the sweat of exertion. Queen Vaella Targaryen, her face contorted with the effort of childbirth, lay on the rough ground with Ser Willis Fell and Ser Rickard Thorne attending her, while her children, Princess Daena and Prince Baelor, watched with wide eyes.

"Breathe, my lady, just breathe," Ser Willis urged, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of pain and effort.

Vaella gripped his hand, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "I can feel it… the baby is coming now."

Ser Rickard moved to assist, his face a mask of concentration. "We need to be ready. It won’t be long now."

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the world outside fading away as Vaella focused on bringing her child into the world. Finally, with one last push, the small chamber was filled with an unsettling silence. 

"A boy," Ser Willis said, his voice barely a whisper as he looked down at the tiny, motionless form. The baby’s skin was pale, his eyes the same violet as Aegon’s, but he did not cry, only took shallow, weak breaths. Ser Willis quickly wrapped the newborn in his white cloak, the soft fabric enveloping the fragile body.

Vaella’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at her son, her heart breaking at the sight. "He’s so small," she whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. "But he is Targaryen. He will be strong."

Ser Rickard, ever vigilant, moved to lift Vaella. "We need to get you out of here, my lady. It’s not safe."

But Vaella shook her head, her expression resolute despite her exhaustion and worry. "No, Rickard. One of you must stay armed and ready to defend us if we’re attacked. We cannot afford to be caught unprepared."

Ser Willis hesitated, the baby still cradled in his arms. "But my lady, you need to be carried. You’ve just given birth."

Vaella’s gaze was fierce and unyielding. "I will walk if I must. But you, Rickard, take my children and get them to safety. That is an order."

Rickard’s face tightened with emotion, but he nodded. "As you command, my queen."

Vaella turned to her children, her heart breaking at the thought of being separated from them. She reached out, pulling them close. "Daena, Baelor, you must go with Ser Rickard now. He will keep you safe."

Daena’s eyes filled with tears. "Mother, I don’t want to leave you."

Vaella stroked her daughter’s hair, her voice gentle but firm. "I know, my sweet. But you must be brave. For me, and for your baby brother."

Baelor clung to her side, his small body trembling. "Mother, will we see you again?"

Vaella’s heart ached, but she forced a reassuring smile. "Yes, Baelor. We will be together again. But now, you must go."

Ser Rickard stepped forward, taking Daena’s hand and lifting Baelor into his arms. "I will protect them with my life, my lady," he vowed.

Vaella nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I know you will, Rickard. Go now, quickly."

As Rickard led the children away, Vaella watched them disappear into the shadows, her heart heavy with the weight of their parting. She turned back to Ser Willis, who stood ready, his sword drawn.

"Willis, we must move," she said, her voice firm despite the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm her.

Ser Willis nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of respect and concern. "Yes, my lady. Lean on me if you need to."

Vaella took a deep breath, steeling herself. She reached out, placing a hand on Willis’s arm for support. Together, they began to make their way through the passage, each step a painful reminder of her recent ordeal.

The passageway seemed to stretch endlessly, the faint light from their torches casting eerie shadows on the walls. The sounds of the city in turmoil were muffled but still present, a constant reminder of the danger they were in.

As they neared the exit, Vaella felt another sharp pain, this time more intense. She knew she couldn’t go on. "Willis, you need to go. Take the baby and ensure his safety."

Ser Willis looked at her in shock. "I can’t leave you here alone!"

"You must," Vaella insisted, her voice filled with authority. "One of us needs to be able to fight if necessary. Go now and protect my children. That is an order."

Ser Willis hesitated for a moment, then nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He gently took the baby, cradling him securely. "I will protect them with my life, my queen."

Vaella nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Go now, Willis. Quickly."

As Willis disappeared into the shadows with the newborn, Vaella remained behind, leaning against the cold stone wall for support. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever might come. She was alone now, but she was determined to protect her family at any cost.

As the echoes of footsteps faded, Vaella took one last look at the passage through which her children had been taken to safety. Her heart ached with the pain of separation, but she knew they were in good hands. She was alone, but not defeated.

…

The small boat bobbed gently on the water just outside the Red Keep, hidden from view by the shadows cast by the towering walls. Aegon II Targaryen paced anxiously, his eyes constantly darting towards the hidden exit of the passageway. Larys Strong, the Master of Whisperers, stood nearby, his face a mask of calm despite the tension in the air.

Hours passed, each minute stretching into what felt like an eternity. The night was eerily quiet, the distant sounds of chaos in the city muffled by the thick stone walls. Aegon’s worry grew with each passing moment, his thoughts consumed by the safety of his family.

Finally, the sound of footsteps echoed from the passageway. Aegon’s heart leapt as he saw Ser Rickard Thorne emerging from the darkness, holding Princess Daena and Prince Baelor by the hand. The children’s faces were pale with fear, but they were safe.

“Father!” Daena cried, rushing into Aegon’s arms.

Aegon knelt, hugging his children tightly. “Thank the gods you’re safe,” he murmured, kissing their foreheads. He looked up at Rickard, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Where is Vaella?”

Rickard’s face tightened with emotion. “She… she stayed behind, Your Grace. She went into labor and insisted I get the children to safety.”

Aegon’s heart skipped a beat, a mixture of relief and dread washing over him. “Labor? Is she… is she alright?”

Before Rickard could answer, the sound of more footsteps reached them. Ser Willis Fell appeared, cradling a small bundle wrapped in his white cloak. Aegon’s eyes widened as he realized what had happened.

“A boy,” Willis said softly, handing the newborn to Aegon. “Your son.”

Aegon took the baby, his hands trembling. He looked down at the tiny face, a cocktail of emotions washing over him—joy, fear, love, and an overwhelming sense of loss. “Vaella… she gave birth?”

Willis nodded, his expression grave. “Yes, Your Grace. She gave birth quickly and cleanly. But the baby is weak, born too early.”

Aegon’s heart pounded in his chest. “She’s not coming, is she?” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Larys stepped forward, his face filled with concern. “Your Grace, there is no time. We must leave now. The city is in chaos, and we cannot risk staying any longer.”

Aegon’s eyes blazed with fury and desperation. “I will not leave her behind!” He tried to move towards the passage, but Rickard and Willis quickly stepped in front of him.

“Your Grace, please,” Willis urged. “We must go. The queen gave her life for the safety of the children. Honor her wishes.”

Aegon’s rage boiled over, and he struggled against them. “This was not our deal, Larys! I bargained for the lives of my wife and children!”

Larys’s eyes were sad but resolute. “Your Grace, I understand your pain. But we must protect your children. Vaella made her choice to ensure their safety. We must respect that.”

The knights, with a heavy heart, pushed the furious and struggling Aegon into the boat, holding him steady as the vessel began to move away from the shore. Aegon clung to the baby, his heart breaking with each passing moment.

“Vaella!” he screamed, his voice echoing over the water. “VAELLA!”

The boat glided silently through the night, the city of King’s Landing growing smaller behind them. Aegon’s cries of anguish filled the air, his body wracked with sobs. Daena and Baelor clung to him, their own tears mingling with his.

Larys sat opposite them, his face a mask of calm determination. “We will reach Dragonstone soon, Your Grace. It is empty now. There, we will regroup and plan our next move.”

Aegon looked at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of fury and sorrow. “This was not our deal, Larys,” he repeated, his voice choked with emotion. “I bargained for the lives of my wife and children.”

Larys met his gaze, his expression unreadable. “We did what we could, Your Grace. Vaella’s sacrifice will not be in vain.”

As the boat moved further from the shore, Aegon held his children close, his heart heavy with grief and determination.

…

The sky above King's Landing continued to be a maelstrom of fire and shadow as Caraxes and Syrax circled high above Aegon’s High Hill. The sight of the two mighty dragons, ridden by Prince Daemon Targaryen and Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen respectively, struck fear into the hearts of the city's defenders. Below, the once-mighty capital of the Seven Kingdoms teetered on the brink of chaos.

The first to react were the seven commanders of the city gates, handpicked for their unwavering loyalty to King Aegon II Targaryen. As the dragons’ shadows fell over the Red Keep, these commanders swiftly mobilized their men, unaware that their loyalty had already sealed their fate. Each of them was a veteran, seasoned in battle, but even they were not prepared for the betrayal that awaited them.

Captain Cedric Lannister, stationed at the Mud Gate, barked orders to his men, his voice barely audible over the din. “Hold your positions! Prepare for an assault! Do not let them through!”

But even as he rallied his forces, a group of gold cloaks, their faces grim and resolute, moved silently through the ranks. These were men who had once served under Daemon Targaryen, their loyalty to him unshaken by time or distance. With deadly efficiency, they turned on the commanders.

At the King’s Gate, Captain Roland Buckler felt the cold bite of steel as a dagger plunged into his side. He gasped, turning to see the betrayer—a gold cloak he had trusted. “Why?” he managed to choke out, blood spilling from his wound.

“For Prince Daemon,” the gold cloak replied coldly, pulling the blade free.

One by one, the commanders fell. Those who were not killed outright were bound and dragged away, their protests silenced by the grim determination of their captors. The city gates, now undefended, stood vulnerable to the coming onslaught.

At the Dragon Gate, Ser Gwayne Hightower, the second in command of the City Watch, realized the depth of their betrayal. As he reached for the alarm bell, a hand clamped down on his wrist, and he was pulled back by Luthor, a gold cloak loyal to Daemon.

“Gwayne,” Luthor said, his voice a mixture of regret and resolve. “This is for the good of the realm.”

Gwayne struggled, fury in his eyes. “Traitor! You’ll doom us all!”

With a swift motion, Luthor drew his dagger and plunged it into Gwayne’s heart. The second-in-command’s eyes widened in shock before the life faded from them. Luthor lowered his friend’s body gently to the ground, a somber expression on his face. “May the gods forgive me,” he whispered.

The gold cloaks moved quickly, opening the city gates to the army of the Sea Snake, Lord Corlys Velaryon. The fleet had arrived to the east of Blackwater Bay, and now, its soldiers poured into King’s Landing unopposed. The once-impregnable defenses crumbled as the Black’s forces flooded the city.

At the River Gate, the last bastion of resistance held firm. Thirteen knights of House Hightower, along with a hundred men-at-arms, stood resolute against the attackers. Their commander, Ser Tristan Hightower, rallied his men, his voice ringing out over the clash of steel.

“Hold the line! For King Aegon! For the realm!”

For eight grueling hours, they repelled wave after wave of attacks. The defenders fought with a ferocity born of desperation, knowing that their defeat would spell the end for the Green’s cause. The gate became a battlefield, littered with the bodies of the fallen, both friend and foe.

“Ser Tristan!” a young knight called out, his voice strained. “They’re coming from within the city! We’re surrounded!”

Tristan’s face darkened, but his resolve did not waver. “We fight to the last man. Show them the courage of House Hightower!”

The other six gates, however, fell swiftly. The gold cloaks, having neutralized the loyal commanders, opened the way for the invaders. The Black’s army entered the city unmolested, spreading through the streets like a dark tide. The fall of King’s Landing was swift and brutal, the city’s defenses crumbling within a day.

In the Red Keep, Queen Dowager Alicent Hightower watched the unfolding disaster with a heavy heart. She had known this day might come, but the reality was no less devastating. The sounds of battle grew closer, and she realized that the end was inevitable.

“Gather the council,” Alicent ordered, her voice calm despite the turmoil. “We must decide our next steps.”

As the remaining loyalists assembled, their faces were grim. Alicent took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over them. “The city has fallen. We cannot continue this fight. Too many lives have been lost already.”

Lord Jasper Wylde, the Ironrod, clenched his fists. “We cannot simply surrender! There must be something we can do!”

Alicent shook her head, her expression sorrowful. “We have done all we can. Further resistance will only lead to more death. I will not see our people slaughtered needlessly.”

Lord Tayland Lannister stepped forward, his eyes filled with understanding. “Your Grace is wise. The time has come to seek terms.”

With a heavy heart, Alicent nodded. “Then it is decided. We will surrender and seek mercy for our people.”

As the order was given, the Red Keep fell silent. The battle was over, and the fate of King’s Landing was sealed. The Blacks had taken the city, and the Greens were left to face the consequences of their defeat.

In the secret passageways below the Red Keep, Vaella Targaryen remained alone, her heart heavy with the knowledge of the sacrifice she had made. Her children were safe, and that was all that mattered. She would face her sister and uncle, ready to defend her family with every ounce of strength she had left.

…

The Iron Throne loomed imposingly in the Great Hall of the Red Keep, its twisted metal and jagged edges a symbol of ultimate power and the treacherous path to claim it. Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen sat upon it, her face a mask of determination. The hall was filled with the murmurs of courtiers and soldiers, the air thick with the tension of recent victory and the uncertainty of what was to come.

Daemon Targaryen strode into the hall, his eyes sharp and searching. He approached the throne, bowing slightly before addressing his wife. “The city is secure, but there is no sign of Aegon or his children. They must have been smuggled out through the secret passageways.”

Rhaenyra’s expression hardened, but before she could respond, Daemon continued. “However, my gold cloaks found Vaella as they searched the passageways.”

Rhaenyra’s face changed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes. She took a deep breath, composing herself. “Bring her before me.”

Moments later, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Vaella Targaryen was led in. She was bloodied and pale from childbirth, her strength clearly waning but her spirit unbroken. As she was brought before the throne, she lifted her gaze to her sister—the sister she had once loved more than anyone in the world. Despite everything, she guessed she still did, even if this Rhaenyra before her was all twisted and crooked by the power of the throne.

“Vaella,” Rhaenyra said, her voice cold and commanding. “You look… worse for wear.”

Vaella managed a weak smile, her eyes filled with both sorrow and defiance. “And you look quite comfortable up there, sister. Is it as you imagined? I wouldn’t know, having never climbed up there myself.” She glanced pointedly at the numerous small cuts marring Rhaenyra’s skin, evidence of the throne’s treacherous nature.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with anger. “Do not mock me, Vaella. You know nothing of what I have endured.”

Vaella’s smile faded, replaced by a look of deep sadness. “I know more than you think, Rhaenyra. We have both suffered losses. But power… power has twisted you.”

Rhaenyra’s expression grew bitter, her grief for her lost children simmering just beneath the surface. “You and Aegon stole my birthright! You conspired against me and took what was rightfully mine!”

Vaella’s eyes blazed with fury. “Stole your birthright? Neither Aegon nor I wanted the throne! We were pushed to take the crown, forced into this conflict. It was you, Rhaenyra, who started to rebel first. You could never let go of the throne.”

Rhaenyra’s face contorted with rage. “How dare you accuse me? I did what was necessary for the realm!”

Vaella took a step forward, her voice ringing out with conviction. “No, you did what was necessary for yourself. You were willing to destroy everything to hold onto this foolish notion that the realm would accept your disputed claim. You are egocentric and malcontent of your own doing, and look where it has led us.”

Rhaenyra’s hands tightened on the armrests of the throne, her knuckles white. “You dare defy me? After all I have lost, after all I have done for this throne, you think you can stand against me?”

Vaella’s voice was calm but firm. “I am not standing against you, sister. I am protecting my children, as any mother would.”

Rhaenyra’s anger flared, her voice rising. “You will be held captive, along with Alicent, and confined to your chambers until I decide what to do with you. Guards, take her away!”

The gold cloaks moved to obey, their expressions grim. As they led Vaella away, she cast one last, sorrowful look at her sister. “Rhaenyra, please, do not let this throne destroy you. Remember who you were, who we were.”

Rhaenyra’s face remained hard, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—regret, perhaps, or doubt. She watched as Vaella was taken from the hall, the weight of her choices heavy upon her.

As Vaella was escorted to her chambers, the pain of her recent labor and the sorrow of her situation weighed heavily on her. Yet, her thoughts were focused on her children. They were safe, and she would endure whatever came to ensure their continued safety.

In the Great Hall, Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, the murmurs of the courtiers and soldiers around her fading into the background. She was alone with her thoughts, the weight of her crown pressing down on her. The throne was hers, but at what cost? 

…

The next day dawned with a grim sense of finality hanging over King’s Landing. The once vibrant city was now shrouded in a tense silence, its streets patrolled by soldiers loyal to Queen Rhaenyra. The Great Hall of the Red Keep was filled with the murmurs of courtiers and the heavy presence of armored guards. It was a day of reckoning for those who had opposed the new regime.

Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, her face set in a mask of determination. Beside her stood Daemon Targaryen, his expression equally resolute. Before them knelt Lord Otto Hightower and Lord Jasper Wylde, their faces pale and drawn.

“You are both guilty of treason,” Rhaenyra declared, her voice echoing through the hall. “You conspired against the rightful queen and supported the usurper. For this, you will pay with your lives.”

Otto Hightower lifted his head, defiance still flickering in his eyes. “I served the realm, Rhaenyra. Everything I did was for the good of Westeros.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardened. “You served yourself, Otto. You sought power at any cost, and now you will pay for it.” She turned to the executioner. “Carry out the sentence.”

With a swift motion, the executioner’s sword fell, and Lord Otto Hightower’s head rolled across the stone floor. A murmur of shock and horror rippled through the hall. Lord Jasper Wylde, trembling, was next. His pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, and he met the same fate as Otto.

As the bodies were carried away, Lords Rosby and Stokeworth were brought before the throne. Their faces were masks of desperation as they tried to plead their cases.

“Your Grace,” Lord Rosby began, his voice shaking. “We swear our loyalty to you. We were misled, but we are ready to serve you faithfully.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with anger. “Faithless friends,” she spat. “You turned your backs on me when it suited you, and now you beg for mercy? I cannot trust men who switch allegiances so easily.”

Lord Stokeworth fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. “Please, Your Grace, show mercy. We have families—”

Rhaenyra’s expression remained cold. “You should have thought of that before betraying me. Take them away and execute them.”

The guards dragged the pleading lords from the hall, their cries echoing in the stone corridors. The executions were swift, and by midday, their heads adorned the walls of the Red Keep as a grim warning to any who might think to betray Rhaenyra.

In another part of the castle, Ser Tyland Lannister’s screams filled the air as he was tortured for information about the crown’s treasure. His loyalty to Aegon was tested to its limits, but Tyland remained steadfast, refusing to reveal the hiding place. His endurance only fueled Rhaenyra’s frustration and determination to break him.

Grand Maester Orwyle was confined to the black cells, his protests of innocence and pleas for mercy ignored. The dark, damp cells were a far cry from the comfortable quarters he was used to, and he knew that his days might be numbered.

Later that day, Daemon entered the queen’s chambers where Rhaenyra sat, the weight of the day’s events heavy on her shoulders.

“We’ve dealt with the traitors,” Daemon said, his voice low. “But there’s another matter that requires your attention.”

Rhaenyra looked up, exhaustion etched in her features. “What is it?”

Daemon sighed, his expression troubled. “The local populace is growing restless. Vaella and Aegon were much loved in King’s Landing. The people are not taking kindly to their sudden absence and the executions.”

Rhaenyra’s face tightened. “What do you suggest we do?”

“We need to address their concerns,” Daemon replied. “Show them that we are here to rule justly and with their interests in mind. But we also need to be prepared to deal with unrest swiftly.”

Rhaenyra nodded slowly. “You’re right. We cannot afford to lose the support of the people. Arrange for a public address. I will speak to them and assure them that we are here to bring stability and prosperity.”

Daemon’s eyes softened slightly. “And Vaella? What will you do with her?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze darkened. “For now, she will remain confined. I need time to think about what to do with her. She is a threat, but she is also my sister.”

…

Vaella Targaryen was led through the royal quarters of the Red Keep by Rhaenyra’s men. The stone walls echoed with their footsteps, the silence heavy and oppressive. She felt the weight of her recent childbirth, her body still weak and trembling, but her spirit remained unbroken. As she passed through the corridors, she was suddenly stopped by the sight of Dowager Queen Alicent being escorted in the opposite direction.

Alicent’s eyes met Vaella’s, wide with worry and fear. “Vaella,” she called out, her voice trembling. “Are the children safe?”

Vaella nodded, her expression resolute despite the exhaustion etched into her features. “They are safe, Alicent,” she replied, her voice strong. “Do not worry.”

Before either could say more, the guards pulled them apart, each escorted to their separate fates. Vaella’s heart ached for the dowager queen, but she had to remain focused. She was taken to a chamber where a bath had been prepared for her, the steam rising gently from the water.

The servants undressed her with practiced efficiency, their expressions neutral. Vaella sank into the warm water, letting out a sigh of relief as the heat soothed her aching muscles. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to relax, if only briefly.

Her mind raced with thoughts and worries. How could she reach Helaena in the Vale and Aemond and Criston at Harrenhal? The family needed to be reunited, to plan their next move. But for now, she was trapped in the heart of the enemy’s stronghold, her movements watched and controlled.

She thought of her husband Aegon, wondering if he and their children had safely escaped. The thought of their safety brought her a measure of comfort, but it was fleeting. She had just given birth, and she had not even had the chance to name her baby boy. The pain of that loss cut deeply, a fresh wound in an already battered heart.

The door to the chamber opened, and one of the guards stepped inside. “You have a short time, my lady. Do not take too long.”

Vaella nodded, her mind still a whirlwind of thoughts. She had to stay strong, to find a way to communicate with her family and ensure their safety. The task seemed monumental, but she was determined to succeed.

As she bathed, she replayed the recent events in her mind. Rhaenyra’s anger, the accusations, and the execution orders. She wondered how her sister had become so twisted by the power of the throne. They had once been so close, and now it seemed a chasm had opened between them, filled with bitterness and mistrust.

She recalled her argument with Rhaenyra, how she had stood her ground despite her weakened state. The memory of Rhaenyra’s face, twisted with rage and grief, haunted her. Vaella knew that her sister was hurting, that the loss of her children had driven her to the edge. As did the death of Aeron her. But that did not excuse Rhaenyra’s actions. Vaella had to remain vigilant, to protect what was left of her family and find a way to reach them.

As she finished her bath, she dressed in the clean clothes provided by the servants. The simple gown was a stark contrast to the regal attire she was accustomed to, but it would do. She had no need for finery now, only for resolve and strength.

The guards returned, escorting her back to her chambers. The journey through the corridors was silent, the weight of the recent executions hanging heavily in the air. Vaella glanced out of the windows as they passed, the city of King’s Landing sprawling below, a city now under the rule of her sister.

Upon reaching her chambers, Vaella was left alone, the door closed and locked behind her. She moved to the window, looking out over the city, her thoughts turning to her family once more. She whispered a silent prayer for their safety, her heart aching with the distance that separated them.

[justastarholder]

HOLY SHIT IJUSTOHNMYGOD

Afton!!! He did somehow possess Pluto!!!! Somehow!!! And I'm sure as hell she even said that she felt like she was possessed when she attacked Moon!!!! I did think it MIGHTA be Afton but not really sure, but the new chapter!!! Holey moley!!!!

But question, how??? How did he do that??? If he could somehow control Pluto, could he try to do that with some other god??

Much like Star Mom, Aberrant has the ability to grant gods (and other beings) special gifts. :) Afton has just been sitting on this gift for a while.

See also, this exerpt from the Xmas special:

Sun found himself standing in a lively ballroom instead of among the pews he’d expected. Couples danced past him, smiling and laughing. The floor was dominated by silky green, pink and white gowns like blooming flowers in a marble pot. 

It was hard not to notice himself among them, slightly older than he had been moments before. Clad in a rich green vest and surrounded by friends. 

“My friends! Thank you for coming to celebrate our dear spring goddess with me,” he called merrily, white eyes flitting over the crowd. The older Sun watched himself dance and skip about, drink in hand. His expression sagged as he realized what was to come. 

The doors flew open and in burst Pluto, looking rightfully outraged. Red rimmed her narrowed eyes. Clear tear tracks stained her freckled cheeks. Soot smudged her hands and working clothes. Thorny red vines crawled up her arms from clenched fists. 

“What have you done?” She hissed as she drew closer, boots heavy against the polished marble floor. Among the glittering gowns and hanging tapestries, she looked like a fury straight from the depths of the underworld. There to drag Sun down into the dark for all his crimes. 

“Pluto! I’m… not sure what you’re talking about,” Sun fibbed, reaching towards her. He hesitated to grasp her hands, eyeing the wild vines that writhed between her fingers. 

“You know very well.” Pluto snapped, fresh tears running from her eyes. 

“You were busy working on the star! You weren’t available- 

“Like hell I wasn’t! I’ve told you more times than I care to count that I’m only a summons away. I could have been there. Stars above, Sun, all those people-

“That’s enough,” Sun said abruptly, grasping her shoulders. He glanced around at all the staring party goers and flushed. Sighing, he forced a smile onto his face. 

“My dear Pluto. Why don’t we discuss this somewhere private?” 

The furious goddess sighed, shaking her head. 

“Fine.” She yanked the vines from her palm before grasping his wrist and dragging him away from the party. Sun and the spirit followed their younger copies out of the ballroom and down the elegant hall of the palace. Footsteps muffled by hand-woven rugs. Glowing lights reflecting off of gilded banners and polished windows. 

As the office door closed, Pluto rounded on Sun like a hawk cornering a mouse. 

“The lead spill,” she spat, “I could have handled that. Why would you keep something like that from me?” 

“I know you’re upset,” Sun said gently, “but it was an honest accident! I was working on getting it cleaned up- 

“For a whole decade?! Do you understand how fragile men are? Lead is deadly for them!” Pluto snarled, grasping his tunic and smudging soot onto his fine clothing as she shook him. “How could you do this? People are dead. I’ve been helping Bonnibel tend to ill dragons in droves. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” 

“I know it’s bad, but- but- With all the things I need to handle- 

“So why didn’t you call upon me? Or Moon? Or your brother- 

“Because it was my responsibility!” Sun brushed her hands off. “And I confess, I handled it poorly, but- 

“Do the people know? I’ve heard that the village has been wiped from maps. Are you covering this up?” Pluto snapped once more. “If you want to take responsibility, you need to apologize and tend to the survivors.” 

“I know. I’m working on it- 

“Sun. Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not going to cover this up.” Pluto could feel the guilt oozing off of him. He looked at her helplessly. She shook her head. 

“I can’t believe you.” Pluto turned away from him. Sun reached out and grasped her wrist. She turned back to look at him, prepared to make another biting comment until she saw his face. His eyes had gone almost completely black, save for white pupils that bore into her soul. A chill ran down her spine. 

“You wouldn’t forsake me,” Sun said darkly. “I thought you loved me.” 

Soft flowers bloomed around her brow like a crown, pink as a blushing bride. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. 

“That’s- You can’t distract me-” She shut her eyes. He cupped her cheek.

“Look at me.” 

And despite not wanting to, she did. 

“You can trust me. I’ll handle it.” Sun’s voice grew deep and strange, but Pluto couldn’t seem to snap herself free of the trance he had her under. 

“...” Sun wrapped his arms around himself, watching the scene with a heavy heart. 

“What compelled you to do something so cruel?” The spirit looked over at Sun. 

“I…” Sun shook his head. “I don’t remember this. I remember arguing, and Pluto left…”

“You don’t remember,” the spirit frowned, “but this is what transpired.” 

The two looked on as Pluto and Sun continued to stare one another down. 

“You’re one of my best friends,” Sun said quietly, smiling down at Pluto as the flowers adorning her brow began to wilt. “You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” 

“...Of course,” she nodded, “of course.” 

“Go home, Pluto. Forget the lead spill for now.” He released her, smile fading. “Everything is fine.” The black-eyed god watched Pluto turn and walk away, seemingly possessed. Blissfully unaware of the tainted seed he had planted deep within her heart.