#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.

[aislingsurrow]

The Night After Ravana’s Defeat…

“Never did I doubt you, Warrior of Light.”

Aisling turned over in her bedroll- Estinien’s earlier words still tickling at the back of her mind. Spoken after she returned from the hive.

“Never did I doubt you…”

Instead of that Someone whispering what the next day would bring, what pains would come and what the weather would be and who she’d meet, she could only hear him.

“Warrior of Light…”

She turned on her back and her eyes burst open to stare at a wide open sky, blistered with bright stars.

“Warrior…”

His lips had turned up when he said it. Just the corners of them, a slight little smile and from her low angle she could see up into his helmet. See that the smile, however small, reached his eyes.

“Fretting like a maid for her sweetheart, he was.”

And in that moment their eyes had met.

“Sweetheart…”

The way his lips formed the words was stuck in her skull. The look in his eyes. And when something passed between them, unspoken, she was glad Alphinaud was jostled enough to protest the teasing. It gave her a moment to steady her wildly beating heart. Of course, thinking about it again now only made her heart go so wild again she had to sit up- stand up- and wander from the dying embers of their fire and the two sleeping Elezen.

They were within the walls of Anyx Trine, tucked in a corner by the gate with a watchful company of dragons nearby- meant to keep an eye on Estinien. He was gone, though; in the few nights they’d enjoyed the hospitality of the dragons, Estinien had not slept within the walls. Still, he never went far- which is why Aisling slipped out of the gate, feet bare, cool wind tickling her shoulders in her nightgown.

She didn’t have to search far at all- there he was, just outside the main gate, leaned back against the stone in a devilishly cool way. As ever, he was in his armor- a mask she saw beneath in brief flashes.

“I had a feeling you’d be up,” he said as a greeting.

“Oh? Yer having visions now?”

“You’re predictable. You found me, somehow, after the boy’s trial. And then once more when you freed the Bull. I figured I’d make myself easy to find this time.” The twitch of his lips again- her heart rushed. “Make it easy on you.”

“Y’need never go easy on me, Estinien. I can handle it.” She lifted an arm and slapped her bicep- certainly not bulging with lean, lithe strength like him, but solid all the same.

“I see you can.” He pushed himself off the wall. “Shall we walk?”

“Aye!” Aisling beamed and hopped beside him, her feet buoyed just above the ground by a cushion of Air aether placed with each footfall.

They took a turn around the walls of Anyx Trine. Above them, dragons flew past- entering and exiting their home. Some landing on the wall and lingering. Some watching the two wander by, made curious by the continued presence of men.

“It is nice y’waited fer me, though,” she said a few minutes in.

She could feel him roll his eyes. See a hint beneath the helm from her angle. “Must you say it aloud?”

“Are yeh embarrassed?” Her lips split into a sly grin. “Will y’blush if I call ya kind? What of handsome?”

The sound that came from him was somewhere between a scoff, a gasp, and a bark of a laugh. “You make your opinion so readily known!”

She glanced sidelong at him, raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s got to. You won’t say what y’want.”

“Oh?” He shook his head. “You know what I want, eh? Have you Seen it?”

“Of a sort.”

She paced ahead of him with a quickness that surprised the Azure Dragoon. For once, he sped to catch up with her.

“Is this another vision to solve?”

She walked a bit faster again and he was answered by her back. Her hair was unbraided, casting her curls down behind her shoulders. The moon and starlight caught in the blonde- the soft pink- and seemed to glow.

This time, Estinien didn’t catch up to her and trailed behind.

“... Well?” he prompted, after a moment of her silence.

“Why do y’look at me the way you do?”

“And how do I look at you?” He was about to laugh, but her sudden stop and turn stole it from his lungs. He paused mid-step and her eyes caught under his helm. He didn’t have time to school his expression.

“Like tha’.”

His jaw clenched up. “... It’s no particular way,” he protested, rather ineffectively for him. Which is why her answer was only silence- a brow raised in question. And his jaw tightened again- fists joining in an angry curl.

“Such wants are distractions,” he snapped and brushed past her. “Should I falter from my task? Just for a want?”

She didn’t follow him, and when he realized a few yalms away he slowed to a stop, anger flattening slower than it came.

“... You said before you saw my death,” he said, his back to her.

“I seen yer agony,” Aisling replied. The memory of the vision summoned small motes of light to her eyes, Someone laughing in her ear. “Seen a monster wear your skin. Seen ya struck through. But I seen ya smilin’ too. Freer than ever I’ve seen a man.”

A laugh like a scoff. A sigh. “You think I can escape?”

Aisling couldn’t quite answer that. “... I seen us, hand in hand,” she said instead, and twisted her fingers in her nightgown.

“You think you can be my escape?” He finally faced her.

Her hands firmed into fists around the fabric. “Ain’t it what ya want?”

The quiet that settled between them vibrated. Aisling felt it rumble through her whole body- anxiety leaving her hands shaking in their nervous, white-knuckled grip. For all her Seeing, these moments were uncharted territory.

He moved first- raised his hands to his helm and- for the first time in her sights- removed it. His pale hair tumbled down over his shoulders and instead of having to peek and search for his eyes they were right there- his gaze heavy on her- heavier than Aisling had ever felt before.

Estinien closed the gap between them with slow steps.

“... If we do as I want,” he muttered, “I won’t be going easy on you.”

Her breath caught.

“Y’need never go easy on me,” she said in a whisper. All inside of her trembled with excitement. “I can handle it.”

“... I see you can.”

He dropped his helmet to the side and they came together like a dance. He lifted her in the next step and found something- a wall- to press her against as his lips found her neck, exposed and chilled from the night air.

Any dragons still lingering on the nearby parapets roused themselves and, for a blessing, gave the pair some privacy. And with Estinien’s heart so sweetly consumed, for a restful moment their only companions were the stars.

[boom-bada-boom]

back again with another fic idea but i dont really have a name for this one lmao. anyways thank you totk for normalizing magical stones turning people into dragons 🙏

alright. the links lands in a time between heroes, a little bit past four’s time, so the minish and hyrule have their legends of him. and of course, theyre fighting monsters, as heroes do.

and the four sword is hit by Something, something powerful, something evil. no one is able to catch a glimpse of it but they could feel it. four flings his sword up instinctively to block, and the four sword

b r e a k s.

there is a bright light, and a voice—no, voices screaming. because the four sword had-has-will have only one link that wields it, and magical blades are always possessive, binding themselves to the soul of that who uses them. so the sword breaks, and it breaks its hero with it.

except the four sword is more than just metal and magic and minish power. it contains the power of the elemental stones within it. (because the stones themselves are just vessels, and vessels can change.) so when the sword breaks, and the hero breaks, the elements break away in turn. and they bind to the closest thing they can find that resonates with them.

(what, after all, are the colors shaded by?)

all of this happens in seconds, in moments, covered by the bright light and the screams. when the light dies, four dragons in familiar four colors split off in a panicked haze. they leave behind nothing but a broken blade and a leather bag.

basically the chain goes on a minish cap adventure but they dont have a cap and also the stones are just the colors turned into dragons instead.

also reversing the finding order so its green, blue, red, vio now. green is just looping around in the stratosphere or whatever. blue is hanging out near the zora since, yknow, lots of water. red is in eldin for similar reasons. no one can fucking find vio actually because how the fuck do you locate earth??

along the way they slowly discover that hey? the colors kinda represent the goddesses sorta? except what is vio then?

(wild is the first one to make the goddesses connection. hes like huh theyre kinda like the dragons from my time. yeah theyre like protectors of the goddess springs, its a whole thing—wait a minute.)

DUNGEONNNNNNN CRAWLLLLLLL,,,, the colors hide out in dungeonssssssss,,,,, its literally like a whole ass zelda game,,,,,

btw for the general shape of the map, the volcano is in the NW corner, the water in the NE corner, theres a rain forest in the SE, and i guess a desert in the SW??? N is grassland leading to the lost woods, W is moutain range with ice stuff going on, S is also grassland but it leads to swamp, E is lake hylia with some woods surrounding it (as you can tell i am trying desperately to frankenstein a map together from three different ones. sigh.)

if we’re going the “imitating a zelda game” route idk what kind it should be tho. we could do the oot/albw/eow/etc route, collect three items in three dungeons, have a break from dungeons with some situation that is a big move in the plot and frequently involve collecting the master sword, collect more items in more dungeons and fight boss for real (lots of adventuring and dungeons). or we could do the st/mc route, which is five dungeons, but you have a quest to get to each, so its more like quest-dungeon-quest-dungeon-etc. i think this also depends on the size of the game actually. all the bigger games have the first type of storyline and the smaller ones have the second

okay further research reveals that the oracle games, and links awakening, all have a collect 7 (or 8) items and do the thing to fight the boss. so it has the dungeon number of the larger games, and the quest to the dungeon pipeline of the smaller games

EDIT: okay after much consideration. we’re going with option two. mostly bc i dont want to make that many dungeons up 🙃

anyways they also have dungeon monsters and bosses. just like a real dungeon :)

EDIT 2: concept that each dungeon has parts stolen from mc/fs/fsa dungeons

okay dungeon ideas time. mc has two minish dungeons and two regular sized dungeons. the deepwood shrine (earth) and temple of droplets (water) are minish ones. the cave of flames is an old hylian mine in mount crenel and the fortress of winds is. well. a fort.

but green is in the clouds so that just leaves the fire dungeon to draw from in mc.

speaking of clouds, fsa very conveniently has a level named “realm of the heavens”. it is in fact just a whole level in the clouds. also theres the palace/tower/whatever the fuck of winds. so yk. (angst opportunity?? the chain climbing the tower only to come upon the room with the shattered mirror?? thoughts chat?)

as for blue. uhm. well. all i know is i want an ice based dungeon where its got a big ole water pool that probably is fed by the ocean or smth and thats where blue is hanging out. kind of like eow with the weird twister beastie.

as for vio. he is underground and that is as much as im certain of. did have a big ole brain wave that the way to get to him is through the building that will one day become the palace of the four sword, before it is sent to the sacred realm (to become the dark realm). other than that. you gotta go deep into a forest to get there??

and for bosses for each, red gets the helmasaur king (from leg’s time; helmasaur king ii was the boss at the end of the red sword’s portion of the palace).

im not gonna lie i kinda fuck with helmaroc king for green, not only because big bird for the wind element (and from wind’s game lmao), but also the irony of huge bird flying above clouds. sorry sky youve been culturally appropriated.

as for blue, he gets gyorg from majoras mask. time is sweating. gyorg annoying as fuck and you get to try to scramble to dry land once the dude recovers so you get anxiety as well. blue would fucking hate the bitch. 10/10 perfect option

i struggled to find something for vio, especially after accidentally making a “one boss from each timeline” thing happen. but i think i found one i like. skyward sword’s koloktos, simply because many handed boss always sick. and also because of the climbing out of hell scene in the mfs dungeon. the pits vs beautiful upper level concept is honestly kinda fire for doing his dungeon with. also its closer to the beginning of the timeline instead of down the splits

for the dungeons maybe you need to get some symbol of the respective goddess to enter the dungeons, which is where each color ran off to hide within by pure instinct. like the medalions that have shown up in some games or something. which also helps with them making the goddess connection, since theyre hiding where their respective goddess protects them (four, literally helped give the goddesses a house in mc: 🧍)

had a huge brainwave that the colors all fuck up the elements around them in a big ole radius. green accidentally makes tornadoes and hurricane winds around him and since the tower is pretty close to the castle it affects people there too. red irritates the volcano in mount crenel (because it had lava inside of it but on the outside crenel is mostly dust and dirt and stuff) and it starts spewing lava and stuff. blue whips the ocean in a big circle around him into a giant storm and thats why the chain cant just swim to him and have to go through the dungeon. vio accidentally causes earthquakes and sinkholes and he also makes plantlife grow absolutely crazily. yknow, to really up the ante on this whole quest. and now we even have a very good reason why they go to get green first (he is affecting castle town directly).

something something vio and shadow something something light and darkness something something hylia is light but she is a burning light and that kind of light always casts the darkest shadows something something vio uses shadow magic because he casts light

how do they learn about the colors? well, four left behind his bag and in that bag is a journal that has both random ass thoughts and communications between the colors.

the minish are in fact present in this one and they are trying to help the heroes but literally none of them can translate. except four but. awol. so theres some goofy ass shenanigans happening in that direction

(twi in wolf form, listening to the minish chittering and chattering: 🤔)

(legend crouched down next to him, trying to translate as the resident “language expert”: 🤔)

speaking of the minish, the colors all still have the ability to shrink. in theory. theyve got the feather earrings and everything, which would look cool as fuck on dragons i should say. but anyway.

they cannot shrink on their own because their elemental magic is overpowering their minish magic. they usually have at least some elemental powers as the colors but now that is increased tenfold. the chain gets magic bottles that are sourced from the minish who enchanted them with power that can temporarily overcome the overwhelming elemental aura to get to the color’s minish magic. thus making them small :)

and when the colors are trapped in one while minish-sized they can no longer become big again.

yes you can picture lizard-sized dragons being incredibly grumpy in glass bottles.

when they capture a dragon, they head to the minish? maybe. idk someone to make a four sword using a fragment of the original sword and the elemental stone in the dragon. so basically instead of repairing the four sword and splitting, since theyre already split and the sword’s already in pieces, they repair each split and then combine them together. idk how they get the elemental stone out of the colors, but each time they repair a four sword piece they reverse the transformation and get the color back.

so they adventure around with the colors, is what im saying. which is good news for them communicating with the minish lmaoo. no more charades for them

(red, blue and green in a football huddle trying to figure out where the fuck vio is hiding: (hushed but increasingly incensed arguing)

the chain watching them argue at every turn and wondering how the fuck four seems so stable all the time: )

[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.

[veiledvvitch]

Our Lady of Radiance

Summary: A small story from my Solavellan writings taking place before the battle of the Arbor Wilds, 9:42 Dragon. The calm before the storm.

Pairing(s): Solas x femme elf Inquisitor Lavellan (My canon OC Orianna Edea Lavellan). Cullen x Unrequited Lavellan.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, some slightly poetic insinuations to smut.

As the Inquisition prepared its siege on Corypheus's forces in the wilds surrounding the ancient temple of Mythal, Inquisitor Orianna Lavellan and her companions had stayed in a local village near its outskirts.

As the sun went down, they prepared for thr battle the coming morning. A great feast had been prepared, but Orianna could not eat knowing that so many of her men would be lost.

She maintained a smile in their presence, not wishing to inspire upon them the doom she felt herself. She had made so many friends, human, dwarfen - even Qunari. Her world had grown so much bigger and now here was a battle to fight for it all.

She locked eyes with Cullen across the tavern, full of tenderness and fear. She could read upon his lips, the chant of light. He was praying for her safety.

On the second floor, Solas leant over the railing, watching her with an unreadable look on his face. Lost in thoughts, she was not sure he even knew she had noticed him.

"A night that might be our last" Dorian mused, having helped himself generously to the wine. "Who might you spend it with? I wonder."

Orianna chuckled, "Stop worrying about me and turn around instead" she gestured, "I see the way Ironbull has been looking at you, have''nt you?"

"-Nonsense." Dorian shook his head and swallowed the remaining wine all at once, "A fine 'Vint and a savage Qunari. Now that is something for the bards to sing about."

Cullen made his way across the tavern at last, and Orianna excused herself with a sigh.

"Inquisitor" he greeted her, and Orianna looked up to see that Solas had left his positioning. "Commander, anything to report?"

There was a pause, "I... yes. There is a matter i'd like to discuss with you, well... in private."

Orianna's eyes distractedly wandered the tavern for Solas's whereabouts, he was no longer anywhere to be seen.

"Sorry. Could you repeat that to me Commander?"

Cullen swallowed nervously, "With the battle ahead of us, I could not let it remain unsaid that I..."

Orianna felt a wave of sadness wash upon her, it was all weighing to much. She was frightened, truth to be told she did not know if she truly stood a chance to defeat Corypheus.

"I care for you Orianna. More than care, in fact." Cullen finally admitted, gazing down at her expetantly.

A single tear fell down her cheek, burning hot. "Cullen..", she whispered.

"My devotion to you, goes far beyond my commanding of your army. It is resolute love, it will stand no matter what."

Orianna's breath hitched as he came nearer, his lips inches of her.

She wanted to press herself forward, but backed away instead into a table.

"Forgive me, Inquisitor. I've.. transgressed." Cullen pulled himself back, but before she could answer, Solas had appeared by his side with an austare visage.

"Commander, if I could have a word with the Inquisitor." He requested politely, and Cullen puzzedly withdrew to leave them be. The bards song filled the tavern, Ironbull laughed at something brawingly.

Before she could say anything, Solas had taken her hand leading her up the stairs after him.

"We were... just talking." Orianna explained, "-And more if the Knight Commander were to have his way." Solas replied snarkily. His hand still gently around hers untill they found themselves in his chamber.

"You're actually jealous?" Orianna finaly braved herself to ask, and Solas turned to her smugly. "Of course I am jealous."

"-To stand in your presence before such a fateful battle. Emmasalin var suledin evanura."

"Ma melava haleni. We would not have made it this far otherwise."

Something glimmered in his eyes, "Vhenan. Vir Insalin."

"I hope so. I can't afford to loose, not now."

Solas smiled, "I believe in you. You are so radiant, you inspire us all."

His lips found hers, and fueled with passion sat her down on his bed.

She fell back, but he did not join her. His head lowered, locked beneath her in awe and in worship.

"-Solas" his name left her lips breathlessly, he could barely keep his hands, or his lips of her, but never let her return the favour.

Whenever she got too dangerously close to convince him otherwise - he would pull away, or otherwise distract her differently.

The sounds of drunken shanty' sung from the tavern downstairs drowned out her cries as she quivered and fell defeated in his bed. He lingered, looking up at her with twinkling clever eyes.

"Mythal enaste." Orianna whispered, "if you keep this up, then."

"-If we survive the coming battle, i'll show you the true extent of my devotion, Vhenan."

Her heart skipped a beat, "I want you Solas, why wait? Why not-"

His lips shut her up, "As much as I'd relish the idea.. we should get some rest. By dawn your army will march and you will need to guide them"

Orianna laid down upon his bed defiantly, "Fine. But i'm not leaving your chambers. I can't sleep without you."

Solas joined her, once again with an unreadable ennui upon his face as he gazed upon her before reaching for - and placing a kiss upon her anchored hand.

"I'll keep the nightmares away."

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day twenty

"I saw your eyes light up."

fandom: not another d&d podcast (bahumia/ba2mia)

word count: 1254

It was rare that things calmed down on the Astral Plane enough to take a break. But on the occasion they did, a vacation was in order. 

“A few days in the Feywild? Aw, we haven’t been there in, uh…” Moonshine trailed off, looking up from her packing. “Shit. It’s really been a minute.” 

“Well, yeah. I figured we could take a stop there before going by Shadowfell to see Mom,” Hardwon said. 

“Bev? You down for that?” Moonshine asked. 

Beverly looked up from his journal. “Oh. Yeah.” The Feywild still held some rocky memories for him - but then again, so did half the Material Plane. 

Hardwon grinned. “Callie and Sol have been helping Oberon, you know, un-tame it. We can say hi. You’ve really gotta meet these two. And their friend. They’re good people.”

“More wild in the Feywild? I’m down for that,” Moonshine said. “It’ll be a blast.” 

In their actual itinerary, the Feywild was near the latter end of their vacation. Bahumia had changed a lot since he was last there; the Dragon Elves had installed a new High Princess, the Crick had faced an attempted overthrow, the Irondeep dwarves and the fire giants were in a tenuous alliance, and the Ezry bubble had fallen for the first time in over two centuries. Somehow, Frostwind was the least changed since they last visited. 

Going through the rift to the Feywild, though, was a much different change. 

The plane had always been more magical than the Material Plane, but now it seemed to brim. Instead of the permanent morning that the Spring Court had stayed in, the sun seemed to move in the sky as Hardwon led them to his friend’s place. 

“This is where Callie says they’re set up now, at least. Just look for a duck-themed camper,” he told them. 

“Duck-themed?” Beverly muttered under his breath. 

“That’s what they go by. Duck Team.” 

“Right.” 

The grass came up so high that he felt like he was wading through it. Maybe that was just an issue at his height, but it made the journey difficult. Finally, though, the setting sun glinted off the metal of a camper. 

Hardwon was grinning as he pointed. “There they are.” 

“Just in time.” Moonshine sighed. “Oh, Melora, I should have brought something. I mean, I did grab some Crick water before we left.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Bev said. 

They followed Hardwon to the door. He barely had a chance to knock before the door swung open. 

“Hardwon!” A spring eladrin pulled him into a hug. “I was worried you’d gotten lost out there.” 

“Trust me, I know the Feywild like the back of my hand.” 

“Eh, it’s gotten more tricky than it used to be. And that’s saying something.” She peeked past him. Flowers floated in her watery hair like lilypads on the surface of a pond. “Hello there! I’m Calliope Petrichor, but you can just call me Callie.” 

Moonshine bounded up the steps. “Ah, so you’re the infamous Callie. Hardwon talks about you all the time.” 

Callie grinned. “Really?” She chuckled. “Then that must make you Bev.” 

“Guilty,” he said, coming up to greet her. 

“Well, come on in. Plenty of room.” Callie ducked her head inside. “Calder? Grab some more Molsons.” 

Hardwon hadn’t been lying about the duck theme, but there was something cozy in its kitschiness. They’d spent so long in airships that the change of pace was nice. The inside was much larger than it looked on the inside - not as large as Moonshine’s Marvelous Stump, but certainly not cramped. 

The sitting area was already occupied. A bullywug in a sweater and a scarf, covered in mushrooms, stopped his game of cards with a dwarven teenager as they came in. So too did the halfling knights talking across from them. 

They were Green Knights, still clad in their armor. It was still strange seeing the familiar green plate so far from home, but there was something stranger still. The older one, he looked just like-

“Balnor,” Moonshine muttered under her breath.

Hardwon laughed, somewhat stilted, before he started across the room. “Hey, Sol, buddy. And Kenna, hey. Who are your buddies?” 

“Oh, yeah, this is Robert and Balnor,” the bullywug said. “Sorry, I guess Callie didn’t tell you we had other guests.” 

The younger halfling stood and bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Nice to meet you…” Balnor trailed off. 

“Hardwon.” The word sounded like it got caught in his throat. “Hardwon Surefoot.” 

Beverly couldn’t blame him. At least he wasn’t the only one still glued to the spot. 

“We’ve got Molsons!” Callie broke the tensions, emerging from the kitchen with a frosty half-giant who had to duck under the door frame. “They’re nice and cold. I’m sure you could use a drink after walking all day.” 

Moonshine took a bottle from her hand. “Thanks. Yeah…” She twisted the top off and took a slow sip.

As Beverly let Callie hand him a bottle, his eyes drifted back to Hardwon and Balnor. 

“Don’t just stand there,” she said. “Make yourself at home.” 

He followed Callie and her friend to the sitting area. Moonshine, it seemed, was taking it slightly better than he was. But that was mostly because she’d started making conversation with Sol instead of addressing Balnor directly. 

Two hundred years. That was when Alanis had told them that she’d plucked out Balnor to be their companion. None of them had been keeping track of the years like that, on the off-chance that they’d see him again. 

The timeline had changed. This Balnor still had his son, had become a Green Knight. He was still Balnor the Brave, just not… their Balnor the Brave. 

Seeing him happy, content, someone’s father was a pleasant sight. Yet it felt like it stabbed him through the chest. He was distracted watching Balnor pick up cards with Kenna that he hardly noticed Robert - Bobby - coming up to him. 

“Must be nice to see a fellow Green Knight, huh?” he asked Beverly. 

“Huh?” 

“I saw your eyes light up when you saw us.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” He took in Robert’s armor. The design on the plate had changed over the years - much more ornamental, the sun sigil of Pelor morphed into the Summer Court’s banner. He didn’t even know if he considered himself much of a Green Knight anymore. Not since he’d lost Erlin. Maybe even before then. 

“I’ve heard the stories about the first Green Knights. Including your father, Beverly the Fourth. I never imagined I’d meet his son,” Robert said. 

What his dad had done to protect him, the deal he’d made, he imagined they didn’t teach that in the accolades of prior Green Knights that served the Seelie Court. But there was something ironic in that. The son of the man who’d been his father when he had lost his, telling him that he looked up to his. 

“I’m sure I must be embarrassing myself,” he told Beverly. “I apologize.” 

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just strange, you know? Not that, but… seeing echoes of the past now, so long after.”

“I imagine it must be.” Robert smiled. “If you ever want some really exciting stories about the Green Knights, you should ask my father. He got into some trouble before I was sworn in, and even then, he won’t retire.” 

Beverly laughed. “That sounds like Ba-” He stopped himself. “Yeah. That sounds like my own dad.” 

Robert patted his armor. “It is nice to meet you, Beverly.” 

“Yeah. You too.”

[thequeendomhq]

“One thing we were taught as legionnaires is that, in moments of doubt, you must always give people the opportunity to do good. Sometimes they surprise you. Sometimes they don't." "Which one's the surprise?" "That anyone ever actually gives someone else the chance.”

AVENTIA, a few days ago. 

Aventia was lost.

Weeks and weeks of bombardment had worn down the soldiers that had come to the city’s aid, and as the Blight ran rampant within the walls, hope was seemingly lost. 

Though it was not for lack of trying. Everyone would remember Prince Leander at the head of the Olympians, fire raining down upon the hordes and hordes of darkspawn that pressed forward from the mountains and forests surrounding the city. The Olympians from the Tower giving their all as the ogres and hurlocks constantly targeted them. The witches were strong, the Darkspawn were of hive mind – something, or someone – was telling them what to do. The Elvhen that had come to aid had suffered their own losses alongside the wolves of Haven, who had to turn and head home before the horde decided to turn its sights upon Feronia. 

The city was abandoned, the last of the line of soldiers who had promised never to leave another behind, the people that were born in Aventia and swore that they would die there as well – the horde overtook them the moment the gate was knocked down and the city set alight. 

In the distance, if they were lucky enough to have escaped, refugees could see the rise of smoke from Aventia, a bright light in the darkness of the night. People were funnelled into the Wildlands, into Feronia. They were also pushed into Westreach, into the city of Marinus Bay that had been prepared by Queen Arethusa to welcome the refugees of Aventia into their city. While it seemed promising, the refugees instead found themselves faced with a locked gate into the city – chaos erupted as the fearful and desperate refugees begged for entrance into the city. 

The Blight was no longer a ghost story, it was a rampant fear. The nobility of Westreach did not wish to see the Blight take their city, spread the moment a sick or injured soldier or refugee turned into a ghoul and feasted on whoever was nearby. Wild accusations were thrown around, money that would get the nobility in secretly – they could only hope that the Darkspawn were held back as a refugee camp was set up outside Marinus Bay, a quarantine zone for all who had been too close to the horde, and had taken too long to leave.  

The legion was more than ready to rise to the challenge of finding the source of where the Darkspawn were pouring from, in the hopes that they would be able to stop the push of the horde, or perhaps slow it down. Alucard had returned with new recruits from Aventia, and three from healing the Wildlands from the Blight that had threatened it as well. Within Caer Glas, a decision was made. Five would press forward, past Aventia and above it within the mountains, to where Nornwatch had stood, to find what had caused them to appear. Others would go to support Haven, reinforce if they could and help if the horde were to make it. Three would be sent to Marinus Bay, to try and make peace with the nobility and make sense of the refugee situation. 

They hold no titles, they hold no honorifics – but they are the Legion, and they will stand ready. 

AVALON - Two Days Ago

“The Prince reports that the pool of Mythal has been cleansed within Tarasyl'an Te'las. Animals have once again been cleansed of their blight, and the dragons there press upon the fact that their time is now.” 

The Elvhen who had delivered the report gave a small bow before she turned to leave, quickly and quietly. The circle of nobles sat upon their seats, all turning to look at Titania who remained silent at the head. The golden haired queen looked pensive, and they all sat in silence as the time ticked by them. 

“Aventia has fallen to the Blight, but that was an inevitability that we knew would come to pass,” Titania spoke at last, her voice calm as she looked at the faces of the nobles surrounding them. Too many had seen the Blight firsthand, the sick and dying elder Elvhen withering away as the Light did all it could to fight against it. The Queen’s mother was fighting it, Yavanna’s life slowly withering away. 

Shahrzad Sulamir stood now, her gaze meeting Titania’s as the two old friends thought of what this could mean — and how the argued endlessly on what their paths should be. “Mythal’s Glade has stood ready to search the Laurelin for the Blight. For decades now. The dragons could be an answer. We’ve been missing something for this long—“

Caranthir Thalasir stood now, “Sylaise’s image has completely shattered now. Instead of dragons, why don’t you focus on how we are suffering within?”

Shahrzad only gave Caranthir an exhausted look, “We have tried, Caranthir. Your craftsmen are some of the best within Avalon. Our priestesses of Mythal have offered all their assistance.”

The Thalasir noble seemed contrite, sitting back down.

“All the branches have felt the suffering of the Light,” Titania’s voice echoed through the hall once more, though it had not risen in volume. Shahrzad sat as well, and the nobility looked to the queen again. “None moreso than Varda’s Cavern. And as our elders die, more of the leaves fall.” With each one, she felt it. Like a ripple in the weave of magic that they were made from, the Queen could feel the dimming. “We cannot leave our mortal halves to suffer,” her words were definite, the Silver Elvhen of Lórein’dal would never face such darkness on their own. There were images of them, desperate at the Moongate, while the High Elvhen could do nothing but watch. 

A pounding on the door disrupted the conversation, all eyes now upon the gilded guard who opened it. 

Eyes wide, a young Elvhen stumbled forward, hair a mess and out of breath. 

Shahrzad stood first, recognizing the young woman, “Elanor— speak, what is it?”

“The…the Eluvian! The Eluvian in Mythal’s old temple…it activated!”

Titania stood now, the Elvhen Queen now commanding the attention of the room as the voices and questions that bombarded Elanor quieted, “Take me there, child.” To the Nobles, she looked at them all, “Call home your family. We do not know what lies beyond it, and if something wishes to come through — we must be ready.”

AMON SÚL - Two Days Ago

A darkened staircase stood before Silas. It spiraled down, endless, it seemed, as the light from above eventually yielded to the darkness that consumed the rest of the stairs. Another legionnaire stood behind him, his hand coming up and lighting the sconces on the stone wall. The staircase lit up once more, flickering shadows dancing in a rhythm none could hear. 

Silas didn’t say anything as he stepped forward. Only the one Legionnaire followed, the rest staying at the top of the staircase. The two exchanged a glance, yet said nothing.

The Legion Commander continued to walk in silence, the flames vanquishing as they passed each one. 

The other Legionnaire who followed quietly was a druid, one of the primal elements who absorbed the fire as their steps echoed. “Commander, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Fate leads him who follows it,” Silas paused to look at the druid, Ruadian, “And drags him who resists.”

They stopped at a door, one that was weathered from the sand and air that had buffeted it so long ago. Now, however, the air was stale, the entire stronghold of Amon Sûl built around this single point. Silas’ antimagic pulled at the door now, and it seemed to be nothing more than a snap of his fingers before it was creaking open, pushed back. 

The chamber itself was in the form of a circle, stones that stood standing up with runes carved upon them. Nothing reacted to Silas, as his presence seemingly pulled the magic from the air. Even Ruadian stood there, nervous as he looked upon the runes of old. “Where is he?”

Silas’ gaze was situated forward, and he pulled the palantir from the bag he’d had at his side. The stones around himself and Ruadian flickered to life for a brief moment, but Silas once more pulled the magic from the room. “He is here. Silence is his domain. But he’s been the loudest of them all, recently. Your Dúnedain kind will know that he’s been disrupted. And when I do this, you must do as I’ve asked. If you don’t, Amon Sûl will be destroyed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Commander Silas.”

Silas didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he dropped his hand from the palantír, allowing the magic to fluctuate within the room again. The stones lit once more, the Druidic Standing Stones awakening with a single motion from Silas’ hand. The sound of whispering began to echo in the chamber, until silence fell once more. 

The Dragon of Silence is among us.

The Dreamscape – Present Day

“WE SHALL NOT REST UNTIL–”

“Will you stop yelling? All of the Red Hand has gone.” 

Manannán looked like he wished to argue, but the words from Cailleach made him silent. The void they stood in was filled with the lights that were known within Iskaldrik. The many names they held signifying the beliefs of the people that once inhabited the land. Now, the magic from within them was syphoned. Over and over again the Aetherians would try to pull all they could from what they could see. 

Cailleach moved her staff now, her visage shifting between an old lady and a young woman, “The Dreaming is sick. Our dreamers will be plagued, the Dúnedain will feel the shift as the land continues to die.”

“WE SHALL BURN THEM–

Cailleach coughs.

“We shall burn them for ever entering our world. The Dúnedain must rise. They are caught between these worlds. The realm of Avalon is shifting, they grow closer to finding them. And when they do, the Dúnedain will have to pick between this light and their own.” 

“We shall send a message. To each. They must be ready to do their part and alight the stones. Do you hear it? It calls to us. It is alive once more, though the Blight has nearly destroyed it. It must be saved.”

OOC INFORMATION:

Aventia has fallen to darkspawn. They would have destroyed everyone within it, and most likely have connected their tunnels to the city itself to use as some sort of Blighted base. It is not recommended to return.

Isak, Luna, and Nurcan have been sent to Marinus Bay to hold post for a week. They will be the only hope refugees have of getting into the city.

Thora, Aradia, and Althea are posted within Haven to help fortify against the Darkspawn.

The rest of the Legion have been sent with Riandur to figure out the source of the Darkspawn coordination.

Avalon is unable send reinforcements to Haven, but Lórien'dal will be sending aid.

Druids will be receiving a vision. From either the hero of their circle, or someone that is close to them in some way, whether or not they know why. You'll be receiving this shortly in your inbox. You may just post it, or you may write a prompt for it.

A formerly dead Eluvian has come alight within Mythal's Glade. High Elvhen nobles are being asked to return immediately. The Glade has been sectioned off by guards so none may try to slip through it.

[deuterosapiens]

So, what's the discussion like on this? Not great, I would imagine, since for all intents and purposes, this movie will have no reason to exist. I'm typically of the opinion that a remake of an adaptation should only exist if it can add something which has been lost in the original adaptation, and I'm going to take a stab in the dark and assume this will not be true to the text of the original books. Just a wild guess.

Straight remakes rarely impress. 101 Dalmatians, for example, works by having a quirky John Hughes script and a captivating Glen Close performance. Cinderella works as it understands what sorts of whimsy the average movie-goer will accept in a live action versus and an animated film, and it plays accordingly.

Since this appears to be a straight remake of the original film, rather than the books, it seems we will have to judge it on fidelity to the original film, and, I suppose on how likely we are to watch it a second time instead of rewatching the original.

I would have said there's exactly one reason I would have watched a live action How to Train Your Dragon. After all, the switch from animation to live action changes the rules drastically, does it not? Why would we watch an animated dragon when we already have an animated dragon? That's the rule: I would have jumped on this film if it had the conviction to wow us with practical dragon effects. After all, while this Toothless model does look good, it is impressive in the same way that any of those "Ocarina of Time remade in Unreal" videos is impressive: it's obviously a higher quality model, but was anyone really turned off because "the models aren't photorealistic enough"?

Dragons 3 made impressive leaps forward in the way it handled fire and lighting, because those things are extraordinarily difficult to get right and the filmmakers wanted to show off that they did so, pretty damn well. Fire and light in a live-action setting, you kind of get that pre-installed by filming actual fire, it's not as impressive that you can fake it well when you can just use the real thing.

There's also this teensy little detail of character design. You can only alter a physical actor's appearance so much before it becomes ridiculous. Fidelity to those original character designs might prove difficult to make believable.

I just cannot see this really wow-ing anyone. Sure, it looks good, but since most of it is CG anyway, why not just watch the original film?

[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  

[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

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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.

[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.