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queers-gambit · 29 days ago

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The Strength in Honor [ part 3 of 3 ]

prompt: well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of your own actions. let the Games begin.

pairing: General Marcus Acacius x female!Aurelius!reader

fandom: Gladiator II -> no masterlist

word count: 8.3k+

warnings: spoilers, blood, character injury, canon character death, Acacius survives, drama, depiction of canon complicit physical violence, epilogue, very lil tiny smut, very lil tiny NSFW, depiction of happiest ending author could think of.

part one: read here part two: read here

The gladiators perked up when the sounds of struggle echoed from a distant tunnel; torchlight glowing brighter the closer the approaching intruders got. While restrained to their cells, most prisoners peaked out to watch as multiple guards were required to wrangle an irate General Acacius into an empty cell.

"You're no men of mine," Acacius snarled at the guards as they shoved him to the ground before slamming it shut; keeping bars between the feral man and themselves.

"No, General. We're the Emperor's."

He scoffed, "Hardly men of Rome, then."

"Do try to get some rest, General," another tacked on smugly, "you'll need your wits about you if you're gonna save your lady by," he raised his voice to ensure everyone heard, "fighting every man here!"

There was a grumble from the gladiators, Lucius' arms poking out to rest between the bars; keys heavy and hidden on his hip. He glared at the man he'd been convinced he needed to kill; the man he told Macrinus he wanted in exchange for being his champion; the man he thought would avenge his wife's death. Yet as he listened to the guards taunt him, he heard his aunt's voice pleading with him to understand the General was not the enemy.

He ignored the Wisdom of Venus in favor of his own anger.

The Praetorian Guards spat on the General before laughing and taking their leave; several hushed voices whispering to one another as a distant door clanged shut.

"General? General Acacius?" Someone questioned from the dark.

"Yes?"

"General," the voice insisted, "the hell's going on? What're you doing here?"

Lucius watched Acacius approach his cell door with narrowed eyes, taking the bars in hand as he identified, "Augustus?"

The guard winced as he neared the cell, "Ah, hell, it is you, thought I was seein' shit at first."

"Solider," Acacius greeted.

"Is the plan off?"

"What?"

Augustus shook his head, "The Lady Aurelius was here not long ago, sent Ravi to gather your men. Is the plan off?"

Lucius watched in real time as the General blinked slowly in remembrance, giving the Gladiator time to note the scattering of facial injuries. "Y/N sent Ravi to gather the men?"

"Yes, General."

"Good, good," he nodded, then shaking his head in disappointment. "I don't know what's to come next, soldier, we were betrayed."

"What?"

"The Emperors... They knew, yet I don't think specific details were shared as I saw no deployment to intercept my men yet."

"So they threw you down here?"

Acacius nodded, "In the morning, I am to fight all of you for the life of Lady Aurelius. There's no use in hiding it now: the Lady and I have been involved in an extramarital affair nearly 20 years."

"Jesus, Mary-Mother, and Joesph," Augustus scoffed, head cocking in confusion. "Why not just marry her?"

"I had planned to," Acacius admitted, "after the war, when the fighting was done, when I returned to Rome. I even had a ring," he smirked sadly, "but before I could propose, Lucius Verus died and widowed Lucilla. The Emperor asked me to marry her instead, for protection."

"He did not know about you and Y/N?"

"I'm sure he had his suspicions, we were young and dumb; not very good at hiding anything."

"Why accept? If you loved Y/N, why marry Lucilla?"

Lucius listened intently as Acacius admitted, "Because General Maximus told me to honor our Emperor, honor Rome. There was no denying Lady Lucilla's hand in marriage."

"But you and Venus never quit, huh?" Augustus snickered, "My man!"

"Just loved her too much to stop," Acacius shrugged, shaking his head. "Couldn't ever let go, and even now, I can't. So, tomorrow, I will attempt to fight you all - but we all know, the Emperor's are orchestrating a plan now to ensure I do not succeed."

The creaking of an opening iron door made both men pause their conversation, looking up in time to spy Lucius stepping from his unlocked cell. He watched the way Acacius straightened up with a knowing look; understanding his aunt must've had enough time to tell him about Lucius before their downfall.

"Hanno," Augustus tried to intercept, "how'd you - "

"Is it true?" He directed at the General.

Acacius let his eyes shift from guard to Gladiator; noting how Augustus did not seem phased by his unlocked cell. He asked "Which part?" for clarification.

"Loving Lady Y/N for 2 decades, Maximus telling you to marry Lady Lucilla?"

"All of it," he nodded. "Though my marriage to the Lady was not all bad, she... She just..."

"She wasn't Y/N," Lucius filled in, sounding neutral; neither angry or offended on his mother's behalf, but also not elated on his aunt's either.

"Nobody was - nobody ever will be again," Acacius told him. "Without her, Rome will be set adrift. You should all prepare."

"You speak as if it's already over."

"Weren't you listening?" Acacius snapped. "I am to fight you all, by myself. The Emperor's will ensure neither of us walk away - though, they will try to get Y/N, they spoke of their desire for her."

Lucius and Augustus shared the same expression of disgust, upper lips curling. "They can try," Augustus scoffed, crossing his meaty arms. "Your men still march for the city, General, and the men in these cells stand with you. What's the plan?"

"'Plan'? There's no more plans, kid, it's over. We lost."

"Not yet," Lucius mused, "the Games have only just begun."

"Look," Acacius shook his head, "when we face each other in the arena tomorrow, there will be no way out. I only ask for a swift death for us both. Should the Emperors ever get their hands on her, I fear death will be Y/N's only relief... Do not condemn your aunt to such a fate, she's the best of us and deserves better."

"No, the answer is simple, is it not?" Lucius asked, looking around the other cells of gladiators. "You hear that, lads? Your General Acacius must fight us all tomorrow to protect his lady-love! To protect Venus!" Flesh and metal banged on iron cell doors, a gentle hoot answering his rhetorical inquiry. "He says give him a quick death!" Another round of door-banging. "Know what I say? I say! The answer is simple! The Emperors intend for the General to fight us all - so none of us will fight!"

"What?" Augustus asked over the approval of agreeing gladiators. "Hanno, the hell do you mean? We'd all get shot by the archers!"

Lucius smirked, "There is strength in numbers, my friend... And 2,000 men loyal to the General march for the city. So long as the Emperors have a show, we keep them drawn in and locked on us, fully distracted - they won't so much as notice the city being sacked."

"There need be no sacking, the city is ready to fall," Acacius inputted, eyes narrowed at Lucius.

"All the more reason then," he smirked.

Augustus chuckled, "Oh, hooo! Hear that? I think Hanno has a plan, lads! Should we hear him?" The gladiators banged louder, "I asked, should we hear him!?" Now, they roared in agreement, making Augustus smirk at Lucius and cross his broad, bulging arms. "Go on, then. What's the plan, Hanno?"

Acacius leaned on the bars of his door, ready to take his orders like any good soldier.

The General was collected first from his cell, provided a change of clothes, his armor, and weaponry. Before he disappeared from sight, his head turned to catch Lucius' eyes; either man nodding subtly in agreement to what they had strategized all night.

The Praetorian Guards gathered first at the doors, posted along the inner arena of the Colosseum with archers lining the walls between sand and spectators. Acacius watched from the tunnel as a huge, decorated wooden cart was lugged into the arena by decoratively-matching white horses; you tied to a broad post in the center; dressed in a gorgeous white chiffon dress. You were accessorized in gold, but what caused instant anger from the crowd wasn't just the sight of you... But the sight of you, bound and bloodied.

Geta's Guards were none too gentle in their "watch" of you that night. Your nose bled, bottom lip split down to your chin, apple of your cheek cut open and weeping down your neck, over your collarbones and into the shoulders of your dress. Your wrists were raw, shoulders strained as your arms were bound behind you. In a twist of cruel irony, your maids - including the one who betrayed you - were bound in chains to the cart, as well; surrounded by the Senators who had agreed to your plans of usurpation.

"Gracus," you called to the old man closest to you. When his eyes met yours, you heaved, "I'm so sorry - for all of this."

"You need not apologize, my Lady," he warbled, hands bound before him in a sign of prayer. "This was what we knew could happen, yet we still sided with you. When it comes to Rome's best interest, that is where those most loyal must stand - no matter the consequences."

You nodded slowly, blinking back emotion - still feeling handsomely guilty.

"LET HER GO!" It was heard echoing from the stadium seating; more and more voices joining in their own protest. The archers lining the walls turned to prevent the packed rows of citizens from getting too close; causing tensions to mount as the people did not like such a brash reaction.

In the spectator's box, Emperors Geta and Caracalla sat pompously with Lucilla and Macrinus; waving to the booing crowd. Over them all, the Master of Ceremonies cried out, "People of Rome! Oh, hear me now, my good friends! People of Rome, settle! Settle yourselves! For today, you bear great witness to our Republic's great and fair justice!" The crowd growled and jeered. "Today... Today, great people, we witness the Gods judgement! Today, General Marcus Acacius," the crowd now cheered, "shall face the whole of the Emperor's gladiators in an effort to protect his long-standing affair partner, Lady Y/N Aurelius!"

The people stirred as your head bowed in shame. The Master of Ceremonies paused to let his words marinate, Geta smirking as he misunderstood the mumbling crowd to be displeased with you and Marcus.

"Who cares!?" It was cried.

"Let her go!"

"MERCY!"

"DON'T DO THIS!"

"Just let them be together!"

"LET HER GO!"

"MERCY, EMPERORS, MERCY!"

You could see the way Geta shifted in his seat with discomfort as nearly all citizens of Rome begged and pleaded for your mercy; to allow redemption, to seek penance, that this was not justice just because it was labeled as such.

A door opened across the arena, your head lifting in time to see Marcus striding out of the tunnel to the cheers of his loyal spectators. Your chains rattled as you stood upright from the post, tears mingling with blood down your neck as you watched him march to his death. Around him, Praetorian Guards moved from their place along the outskirts of the arena to surround him and your cart.

Acacius came to a halt, surveying the arena before locking his eyes with yours. "Are you hurt?" He asked. Your head shook, the tears did not lessen. "Good. Stay strong, my star, I'll get you outta here."

You nodded, truly believing him for a reason you didn't understand. Was love truly so blind? Perhaps.

Unknown to you, Augustus was galloping through the city to meet with Acacius' men at the city gates; intending on leading the first wave into the Colosseum. The gladiators burst from their cells and slaughtered the Emperor's men left behind; gathering at the gates of the tunnels to watch as General Acacius saluted the few of his men unlucky to be placed in the Emperor's guard. Several freed gladiators were sent through the Colosseum to neutralize as many archers as possible while the fighting inside the arena began in a brutal fashion.

For what it's worth, it was a glorious attempt by the Praetorians - but this was General Marcus Acacius they fought! Trained by General Maximus - the Spaniard, himself! He was a soldier foremost and for the first time, had something tangible and real and in his hands to fight for. The men in black armor fought well, for all it's worth - but you were on the line and Acacius wasn't in the clearest states of mind. There was no stopping him. There was none that could stand against him yet.

Until Lucius lead few gladiators into the arena next, signaling the next stage of their plan was in motion. "Acacius!" You warned, struggling in your restraints, "Behind you!"

He dodged out of the way of the last solider, swinging his sword around to lacerate the man's neck; splattering his face with a spray of blood. He panted, backing up a few paces towards the cart, leaning a hand to a wheel spoke. "Are you all right?" Acacius asked, looking exhausted but still strong.

"Are you!?"

"I'm fine," he assured, looking up at you with a smirk, "but you need to get ready, love."

"For what?"

"We're gonna need you to put on a bit of a show, hey?"

"Who the fuck is 'we'!?"

"Just - get upset when you see us fight, my Lady, really give 'em a show. We need all of their attention on us for as long as possible."

"Please, Acacius, what's happening!?" You begged, yelping shrilly and flinching when an arrow thumped into the meat of your inner thigh - managing to graze the femoral artery, causing blood to trickle down your leg at a mild rate as your dress slowly soiled with a blossom of blood where the arrow was embedded. It was a very deliberate hit, the crowd 'oohing' in union as every set of eyes darting over to see Geta standing at the stone banister with a smirk as he lowered his bow. "Oh, he's fucking lost it!" You squirmed in discomfort, whimpering in pain, lifting weight off the injured leg; the crowd enraged.

"Fuck - how bad is it? Y/N, please, my love, I know it hurts but talk to me!"

"It's not bad," you assured through your warbling tone, managing to look down and note the front of your dress. "No, no, not bad, it's embedded, plugging the wound. As long as we don't pull the shaft out, I should be fine."

"Acacius!" Lucius bellowed, charging over the sand.

"Wait - wait - wait - what's happening!? Don't! Acacius, please, please, that's Lucius! Do not - you cannot kill him!" You nearly forgot all Acacius had just said when he was forced to engage with the obviously angry Gladiator. "Lucius! Lucius, don't! Please! Please! Fuck honor, you two, this isn't worth your lives!" You felt flooded with genuine fear as your nephew gave your lover a real fight; both equally challenged, hacking at one another in dramatic flares. They moved all around, forcing the other gladiators to take new positions - keeping the attention of the crowd: commoners and the wealthy alike.

Then, after a wave of panic faded, your maid, Melody, reminded, "My Lady! The General said to keep their attention, remember? Put on a show?"

"What?" You asked the woman who hadn't betrayed you. The one who did was posted behind you - dead from the Praetorian Guard managing to get to her before Acacius could get them. Only few Senators were still standing.

"You have to scream - make a big deal of their fued!"

"Fuck," you breathed in mild confusion - then, like a crack of lightning, you understood. "Don't!" You begged them with a cry, "Please! Acacius! He's my nephew - you cannot! LUCIUS! LUCIUS, PLEASE!"

"Keep going," Melody encouraged, eyes on the crowd from her position facing the watch box occupied by Royal Romans. "They're all listening, keep going!"

You pulled against your chains, "Lucius! Mercy, mercy, nephew, please! Let us leave in peace - don't do this! I beg of you! Spare him!"

"Something's happening..." Melody informed with narrowed eyes. "Geta's on his feet - keep going, my Lady! Louder! Get hysterical!"

You were no actress but still put on your best show. "LUCIUS! NO!" You screamed authentically when he swiped his sword up through the spear Acacius wielded - severing it in two. "Ah, for fuck's sake, you two! Come off it, please!"

The fighting seemed oddly personal and poetic; the two dancing tunelessly through the sand, dressed in blood. You heard Melody gasp when Acacius backed off Lucius, kneeling to the ground at the Gladiator's mercy; her picking her chains with a spare hair pin. The two exchanged a few words you could not hear, both Emperors on their feet to watch with Macrinus and Lucilla standing just behind them in earnest wonder. When Lucius looked to Geta and saw his thumbs-down, he looked to Acacius and mumbled something else. Then... He knelt, too.

Geta appeared enraged for a long moment, almost ready for the Guards to shoot them both dead, before Lucius was climbing to his feet. He left Acacius with his knees in the sand, you perking up as Lucius paced a large circle before calling loudly, "Emperor Geta! There's been a request made!"

"Deadmen don't get requests, Gladiator, but living ones take them! Should they want to remain living!" The Emperor called back, trying to remain aloof.

"Is this," he pointed his blade back at Acacius, "how Rome treats her heroes!?" This caused the crowded Colosseum to hiss in anger, growing more restless with each word from their favorite Gladiator. "Since it is the Emperor who passes judgment, since it is the Emperor who has decided the General dies - should it not be by his hand?"

Geta scoffed gently, "I gave the order, I need not swing the sword."

"But in the name of honor, you should," Lucius smirked, offering his weapon. "Here, come, take mine! You say the General dies, you yearn for the Lady Aurelius? Come claim it all like the greater leaders before you!"

Knowing he was being called out, Geta chuckled, "You've a sense of humor, Gladiator, as much as you're a poet, I see. Now, prove you're a solider and kill the General."

"I would think it just and fair to come from you, Emperor," Lucius refused, lifting his arms with his voice, "and the people of Rome came for a show! Are you not entertained!?" The crowd roared deafeningly as if to agree Emperor Geta should enter the ring himself, foolishly, he thought, as Commodus once did. Lucius paced another circle as the archers were clashing with citizens still, facing the spectator's box and pointing his sword, "Come, Emperor! Nobody else can swing their sword, there's none present who will fight their General. The men here, they know loyalty! And honor! And love! They will not fight your man, let alone kill him. So, come! You must - if you want him dead, come, kill him."

Macrinus approached Geta and began rushing his words of advisory, telling the Emperor he should prove to the people he was fair - not tyrannical - by passing this sentence; to 'just' step in the arena. "I am not as vain as Commodus, I need not kill the General myself," Geta told him with a snap.

"It's just a show for the people, don't you want them to get their worth? Or turn unruly from their disappointment and resentment? Think about it: they've been sat here, all day, in the sun, hungry and thirsty, after having paid to watch their city-favorites fight to the death. They want to be sated - so, perhaps seeing their Emperor pass his own sentencing would be enough to satisfy them."

"And with what protection for myself?" Geta snarled, "My men are dead, all that's left are slaves."

"There are still archers, take the few Praetorians from here," Macrinus offered, cocking his head.

"What safety is this you offer?" He seethed.

"C'mon, Emperor!" Lucius taunted again. "Come down! Disband Rome's General for yourself!"

"I should shoot the fool now," Geta considered, nodding to the archers in the box. They strung arrows to their bows and aimed at Lucius, making the crowd jeer and boo; for the Gladiator to lift his hands in innocence, backing away a few steps; and for his mother to protest. "But!" Geta announced to the Colosseum, "I am merciful!"

The crowd cheered lazily, more so in excitement as Geta waved the archers down and was strapped in flashy, never-before-blooded armor. The procession of Praetorians from the box followed him to the mouth of the gates; surrounding the Emperor and jogging inside. Surviving, straggling gladiators just milled about their strategic positions, watching carefully, as the Emperor approached Marcus - still on his knees.

Your eyes widened as a ruckus was heard from above, a shrill scream of terror sounding before a body dropped - dead - into the sand. It was a woman from the crowd, tossed over the side by a Praetorian. This caused people to fight back and for Emperor Geta to startle as it was discovered Augustus was successful in leading the first wave of men into the city; soldiers and gladiators working together to dispel the archers and any Roman loyal to the Twins. Marcus smirked and easily lifted to his feet, making Geta stumble back a couple steps as the General seethed while swinging his sword in hand, "What was it I said earlier? You'd sooner die than touch my Lady?"

Geta's eyes widened as he looked up to you chained on the post, seeing the blood on your dress and trembling. "Now, Acacius!" Lucius shouted as chaos descended onto the Colosseum; the Gladiator fighting a Praetorian a short distance away. "We haven't the time! It's now or never!"

"M-Mercy - mercy!" Geta begged, trying to back away but tripping over a dead body. He sprawled pathetically in the dirt, trembling hand lifted as if Marcus was his savior, "Mercy, General, please! MERCY!"

You watched as Marcus swiftly swung his sword, cutting steel through the Emperor's neck - sending his head rolling away to the sounds of Caracalla's shrieks. They did not last long.

Marcus instantly turned and sprinted for the cart, you gasping his name and pulling on your chains painfully when an arrow found his shoulder. It sent him off course slightly; enough to stumble, leaving time for a second arrow to find his thigh. This time, he tripped into the dirt, head bowed in pain as you begged him to get up; heart in your throat, fingers slippery from the blood you drew from open wounds caused by the sharp edges of your cuffs.

You whimpered nervously as the fighting turned chaotic; all Senators dead, several fires started, the ringing of swords drowned by the sounds of people screaming. If there were any Gods, today, they turned a blind eye to Rome; making you feel isolated, as if your father's faith had finally been sucked from your soul as you watched Marcus snap the arrow from his thigh. He reached for his shoulder blade and grimaced as he ripped the arrow out, too. Slowly, he found his feet and started forward again; limping the rest of the way to the wagon.

Melody freed herself and instantly scrambled to start on your cuffs, too; trying to be strategic together and adjust so she could cower behind the post and work.

Lucius looked up in time to see Marcus clamor onto the cart, just feet from you before an arrow suddenly lodged in your abdomen - just merely inches from your sternum. It made Acacius freeze before all but materializing in front of you just to throw his body over yours in protection from other flying weaponry. Lucius looked to the box - where the arrow had once more come from. What he saw both slowed time and made his blood boil.

Emperor Caracalla's corpse was slumped in his seat, and above him, Lucilla wrestled for the bow in Macrinus' hands before he was overthrowing her from the balcony. Lucius winced when her body landed in a small mushroom of dirt, sprinting across the arena to slide on his knees at her head.

"What did you do!?" He gaped, trying to support her broken neck but fearing he'd make it worse.

"What... What was necessary... For my... My family..." She managed to get out between strangled breaths, fading fast. Yet, before the light could fully extinguish, her eyes brightened in recognition and reached for his cheek, whispering with the ghost of a smile adorning her lips for the last time, "My son... My Lucius."

But her life was swept into the wind before her fingers could ever find purchase on his flesh. "Mother?" He whispered, finding her eyes unseeing; her arm falling and body turning limp. Emotion clawed at his throat as he asked again, "Mum?"

There was no response.

Lucius heaved a heavy sigh and left Lucilla in her place as respectfully as possible, racing towards the wooden cart in time to witness Meldoy free you from your chains and for Marcus to settle you on your back. He smacked the arrow from your gut and thigh - not pulling them out, but just swiping the excess wood from his way. "Acacius!" Lucius shouted, rushing into the cart's edge to catch himself. "Is she...?"

"She's alive, but there's blood," Marcus informed, using both his hands to straight-arm press into the wound of your gut - thigh seemingly fine to leave alone for now. Nervously, he added quietly, "Too much blood, Lucius."

"Get her to the healers, the army's moving in," he nodded, quickly surveying the arena as Melody made her escape through an open gate. "They've taken out almost all the Praetorians."

"And Lucilla?" Marcus asked, seeing Lucius shake his head; so his bowed and he cursed quietly. "Hey, hey," he rushed when blood splattered over your lips, chin, cheeks, neck, and some flecks reaching your chest from your coughing. "Don't speak, you're all right, love, I've got you," he assured as calmly as he could, Lucius noting the way your face scrunched in delirious pain. From where your dress appeared the most concentrated with blood, he assumed you were struck in at least one or two vital places. "What happened to Lucilla?" Marcus questioned, looking to Lucius.

"Macrinus. I imagine she's the reason Auntie's not dead right now - looked like they were wrestling, she might've knocked the arrow off course."

"I imagine," Marcus repeated in agreement.

"Do you see him? Macrinus, I mean, do you see him?" Lucius asked, both men trying to see through the chaos. "We need to end this now with him!"

"There," Acacius inclined his chin across the arena, directing Lucius' attention to where Macrinus was stealing a horse and galloping out of the Colosseum. "Go! Go, Lucius!" He encouraged.

"Keep her alive!" Lucius barked, rushing for one of the other white horses; running alongside before kicking off and leaping onto the steed.

"Yeah, I fucking plan to, kid," Acacius muttered, looking around for an exit strategy. "Fucking hell," he saw nothing but fighting, gore, tragedy, devastation, carnage.

"General!"

"Augustus! Here!"

The former gladiator rushed for the cart, tugging the reins of another horse behind him. "C'mon! Let's go! You have to move, General, you can't stay here! Only a single squadron made it into the city, Macrinus sent his men to delay the rest!" Augustus panted, holding the animal steady as Marcus started apologizing to you profusely. You whimpered when he lifted you in his arms, roughly maneuvering from the cart and lifting you on bare horseback.

"We owe you, friend," Marcus nodded, smacking the soldier's shoulder before taking claim of the reins.

"Just get her somewhere safe and meet us at the city limits," Augustus panted, offering the General a leg-up onto the horse before slapping its hindquarters to send the couple off through the Colosseum at a gallop.

For three days, you slept. For three days, Rome was expunged of the Twin Emperor's reign of tyranny. For three days, bodies burned. For three days, General Marcus Acacius sat at your bedside in palpable worry.

"How is she tonight?" Lucius questioned softly, stepping into the med-bay with a tray of food that would, once more, go uneaten.

"Breathing still," Marcus answered.

Lucius sighed, "Why don't you go clean up, General?"

"I'm General no longer," he corrected, "I was stripped of my rank."

"As if anything those two did will permanently stick," Lucius scoffed with a roll of his eyes, setting the tray aside. "Go bathe and feed yourself, Acacius, I will sit with her tonight."

"I can't leave her," his head shook in refusal, "I won't."

"You did before," Lucius noted with a sigh, taking a seat in the only other spare chair in the room on the other side of your medical bed. "You met us at the gates of the city after the Colosseum."

"It wasn't easy," Acacius snipped, "and I was better help there than with her - she's got the healing touch, not me. No... No, I just cause injury, it seems."

Lucius could hear the exhaustion in the General's voice, understanding this didn't come from lack of sleep. "And now? As she rests, what help are you to her now? You know she wouldn't approve."

He chuckled dryly, "I wouldn't forgive myself if she woke and I wasn't here."

"She'd not forgive you if she woke and you had wasted away."

"You two are so fucking loud," a third voice grumbled, making both men nearly fall out of their chairs from sitting up so fast.

"Y/N?" Marcus reached for your hand, his other lifting to pet over your head.

"Who else?"

Lucius shared relieved laughter with Marcus, your eyes begrudgingly opening. "There she is," your nephew mused, "welcome back t'the world, Auntie."

"Fuck this," you grumbled, letting him help you sit up a bit.

"Gave us bit of a scare, love," Marcus whispered.

"Hm," you considered. "Well, seeing as I'm awake and you two are here, I take it... Things... Worked?"

"First, here," Marcus insisted, offering a simple cup of water to your lips after you were settled upright. He tilted the goblet for you, careful not to let you gulp it - but the sweet relief of water on your cottony tongue was too good to resist. You drank greedily. "Easy, easy," he cautioned when you coughed a little, pulling the chalice back to let you breathe. "How're you feeling?"

"Stiff," you admitted with a grimace. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"Uh, 's bit of a blur at moments," you sighed, rubbing your eyes as you thought deep. "I remember the Emperors, the post, you two fighting. Then there was... Geta's head, the Praetorians fighting citizens and gladiators... The army, I remember the army got there, right?"

"Yeah, good," Lucius encouraged.

"Ah, shit, I got shot," you remembered, opening your eyes to regard your thigh.

"The healers got it out in one go," Marcus told you, "didn't cause damage - you should heal easily from that, my star. But you can't put pressure on the leg for a few days more, not until the cauterization set."

You nodded slowly, "That's... Good to hear. What happened after? I... I think I remember getting shot again? Ah, fuck, did I get shot twice?"

"By Macrinus," Lucius confirmed. "Got yah right here," he reached out to gently pet the bandaged wound, "bled a good bit."

"But the healers got the arrow out," Marcus was quick to assure, "and it was an easy enough wound to close after."

You prodded the area gently, asking, "Didn't come out so easily as the first, did it?"

"You can tell?" Lucius asked curiously.

You nodded, "It's sensitive all around, makes me imagine they had to pry the wound open - maybe even wriggle the arrow to dislodge it."

"It wasn't as clean, no, love, but it's out," Marcus sighed. "You're not in danger any longer."

"No, ma'am," Lucius smirked, watching Marcus settle a little more in his chair. "Not from your wounds or external enemies."

"Hm?"

"We've control of the Empire."

"You've been coronated?"

"Not yet - thought I'd wait a week, see how you progress. For now, we're cleaning up where we can."

You smirked, "So... It worked?"

"Yeah, the plan worked," Lucius nodded, "which," he sighed, leaning back casually, "miiiight not work out so well for you two in the end."

"I beg your pardon?" Marcus sneered, looking ready to lose his mind and stomach contents.

Lucius chuckled, "Ease up, you two, Gods. I only mean, I know you both long for retirement, but with Lady Y/N's knowledge of the Empire, Marcus, your experience as Rome's General, and both of your insights to Emperor Aurelius' vision of Rome... I thought you two might be of use in how we proceed."

You immediately insisted, "There is no need for expansion, Lucius. The Emperors wanted India and Persia - but I fear we've too broad a hold to control already to worry about territory."

"Agreed," Acacius sighed. "Rome's too many mouths to feed as is, and with respect, Lucius, we're both exhausted of war."

"I do not intend to prolong war, but end it. End Rome's expansion - there's far too much of this Empire already being neglected."

You looked at Acacius, "Told you he was right for this."

"I didn't disagree."

"I remember you doubting my judgement."

"I would never!" He gasped comically, offended you'd accuse him of such a crime. Lucius snickered with a shake of his head, standing from his seat.

"Listen, uh," he cleared his throat, "while relationships might be strained for now, I do hope we might rebuild together. I held plenty of resentment towards you both - all of you, in truth. Yet now, I can see the Strength it took to Honor yourselves after years of being the Empire's puppets. I would see such strength and honor rewarded, perhaps... A house in the countryside?" You offered a bashful smile with a small chuckle of amusement, watching a bright grin stretch across his lips. "I'll send a healer in to check on you," he told you softly, squeezing your hand, "and I'll be back tomorrow. Yes?"

"Yes, good," you agreed, watching him out the door. When it shut, you sighed, "What of Lucilla, Marcus?"

You half-expected her to burst into the room, unable to look away from the door; knowing the answer before Acacius even opened his mouth. "She didn't make it, my love," he whispered. "Macrinus, he... He shot you, but it didn't kill you," his other hand laid over your bandaged abdomen; warming the wound.

"Right."

"Lucius thinks it's because Lucilla intercepted Macrinus' attack - but in the struggle, lost her life."

You paused for a long moment, relishing the feel of his hand - warm and heavy in yours - tracing idle patterns on your skin. "So, we're only here because of her?"

"I think so."

You were both silent outside of the scrape of his chair drawing closer to your bedside. With hands tangled and tightly woven together, Marcus let his forehead rest against yours in the first moment of peace you'd known in two decades. The idea of "winning" felt farfetched, inconclusive in some manner; and just as you lifted back and opened your mouth to question this peace, Marcus quickly assured first, "It's just us, my star. It's finally just us, we can rest."

Perhaps the Gods hadn't turned their backs completely on Rome yet. How could they? When the evidence is right in front of you, now pressing his lips to yours in sweet relief.

epilogue

In the weeks following his coronation and your wedding to the General, Emperor Lucius Verus secretly employed Rome's finest (surviving) contractors and carpenters to erect a gorgeously secluded homestead beyond the city limits. It took less than half a day's ride, but still felt like a far-enough ride, the home wasn't near the city's stench; it was legitimately nestled in the countryside, naturally secluded and protected. There were trees, fields of wild barley, an abundance of wildlife, and just the smallest of streams that surrounded the home.

He thought it was perfect.

So, the new Emperor commanded something quaint yet sufficient be built upon a newly paved road that only he frequented. He trusted you and Marcus to Rome's handling, finding little time to sneak away and view the progress being made. It was impressive how quick the builders built.

One morning, Lucius sent for you and Marcus, insisting there was something beyond the city he needed your opinion on. So, you each mounted a stallion and spurred from the city with a gaggle of newly appointed Praetorian Guards left in the dust - desperate to keep up. It was evident you, Marcus, and Lucius had all spent much time on horses; your seats natural, gait quickened as the fundamental feeling of freedom took over and sent you galloping all the faster. Over fields, through mud, kicking up grass, the three of you rode hard and long - but mostly out of playfulness.

You couldn't remember ever seeing Lucius like this, beaming and almost carefree; like the weight of Rome had evaporated and he could be "Hanno" again - whoever the hell that was. You decided you liked watching him, just noting little things here and there about your nephew; traits of your father, of his, of your sister, and yes, sadly, your brother, too; but that was just how genetics worked. He seemed approachable like this, not the brutal Gladiator that tore a baboon's flesh with his own teeth or bested Rome's General.

He was just a guy. Some... Dude. You'd say a kid, but he was full grown - wise, aged, knowing.

Lucius slowed his horse first, you and Marcus doing the same; trio trotting up a hill as Praetorians still galloped from behind to catch up. Upon climbing to the top, you discovered a home in the valley below, your horse whinnying your question, "What's this?"

"Your estate," Lucius answered easily, both hands casual on the pommel of his saddle. "Thought it was close enough in case anything happened or I needed you - you needed me - something or other," he flushed, rubbing the back of his neck, "but still remote enough to remain private."

"What's that?" You pointed to a small add-on to what looked like the main house.

"Oh, I, uh, took the liberty of building myself a bit of a guest house. You... Don't mind, do you?"

"I only mind you didn't include it in the main house," you teased, shifting your horse to sidestep closer for your arm to wrap around your nephew's waist. "Are you being genuine?"

"You think I jest?"

"If you do, it's not very funny," you warned.

"It's not a joke, this is serious," he promised, casting a knowing look towards Acacius over your head. "Welcome home."

It didn't take long for you and Acacius to settle in. The house wasn't overly large that you would grow weary in your age here, but still the size considered comfortably privileged. You had a set of maids and few personal guards - all of whom were housed on their own new estates, curtesy of the Emperor. Yet besides them, you were alone - and most days, you assured the staff they need not bother at all. You found domestic work strangely comforting after decades in politics, under this ruler and that; finally able to have a little control in your life by tending your own gardens, changing your own sheets, perhaps even cooking for your own husband.

The walls were nearly all made of retractable doors that could still be closed and reinforced in storms. Curtains hung from the rafters, creating a ethereal environment for you to glide through on bright, sunny days to the sounds of a picturesque stream trickling. Most mornings, you stood in awe of your new home, amazed at such subtle beauty long since taken fro granted - now, coveted in your retirement. And most mornings were then interrupted by your husband beckoning your back to bed and insisting you need not rise with the sun now.

Old habits die hard, however. Especially when the baby in your womb took solid form and began to wriggle around your guts in a mostly pleasant feeling, it was enough to keep you up some nights. This particular morning, you were laid on your back to a cotton blanket, moaning loudly as your husband feasted on his choice of breakfast: the honey that oozed from between your thighs. Your stomach had begun to swell with a bump, just barely stretching the cauterized scars that only now faintly reminded you of that day. Marcus swore it was his seed that made you taste different, perhaps sweeter; the grey in his beard glistening from your sloppy arousal as he indulged himself. One hand kept you pried open (as if you'd ever cut him off or resist), the other slithering up your body to paw aggressively at your swollen, sensitive tit; pinching and tweaking your nipple in time with his lips sucking and tongue tickling your clit.

Right there in wild lavender, tickled by wisps of barley, you met your peak - thigh clenching around your husband's head as the Gods intended. This was your reward after decades of service, of sacrifice.

"Fuck," Acacius muttered when you released hold of his hair, watching him lick his mouth when his eyes met yours, "you think it'll ever get old?"

"What?" You asked breathlessly as he gently maneuvered your legs off his shoulders to slowly crawl up your form. He left a few kisses in his wake.

"This," he smirked against your lips, sweeping his tongue against yours to mingle spit and the taste of your arousal. "The taste of you," he continued, "the smell," he let his nose nuzzle up yours, "the feel," he ended, pulling your thigh up his hip.

"I do doubt it, if it hasn't after 20 years."

"Good," he purred, trying to line himself up naturally, but not entirely successful. So, not wanting to lose the feeling of him, you reached between you to keep his cock at the mouth of your cunt so he could just push inward. You groaned in union; mouths open; all but exchanging hot air between you as Marcus bottomed out.

From this position, it was languid and lazy; slow and feeling. Each thrust felt anew, his balls tickling the slick down your lower lips, all but pushing the air from your lungs as he went. His hand kept a vice grip on your thigh as he moved, the other firmly planting on the blanket beside your head as it was evident his orgasm was mounting the sloppier he got, humping into you with a roll of his hips.

"Fuck's sake," he grit, "you're so fucking wet, my star, this is - it's - it's all I fucking need, but it's too good - I can't, I can't hold on, oh, fuck."

"Don't," you moaned in encouragement, directing his eyes back to yours. "Don't hold back anymore, please, I don't want you to ever hold back."

"But the baby - "

"Is fine, Acacius, worry about the mother right now!" You laughed, reaching to hook your hand around his neck and yank down. Your lips met in messy union, humming, moaning against one another; so, imagine your surprise when all you had to whimper was, "C'mon, husband - " and...

"Fuck!"

You laughed lightly when he dropped - not his full weight, but enough - onto your chest, face fully in your breast; balls contracting as he winced from the sudden release of his pleasure. Manicured fingers raked through sweaty, salty grey hair; relishing in the feeling of being safe, at home, in peace; finally married, pregnant, and at liberty to couple at your own leisure in the sunshine and grasses. You grinned, laughing lightly in absolute bliss. There was no way this was real life, it was impossible to think it was finally your reality after being deprived of openly loving him for 2 decades.

Acacius tried to question what was so humorous, but it only came out as a bewildered moan; reverberating in your flesh.

"Why does that get you there, my love?" You teased, pecking his forehead as his cock gave a last few pulses. "Oh, that's right, the great General Marcus Acacius of Rome meets his end like a ruddy-faced teenager from the weight of his emotions!"

Marcus chuckled against you, slowly lifting up to find your lips spread in amusement. "Aye," he agreed, "but only from the weight of emotions for my wife."

You smiled bashfully, admitting, "How silly, that word, 'wife', or 'married'... 'Husband'. It still sounds a little untrue. Almost unreal, fabricated, as if it's a joke being used against us. Like an insult somehow. Now, we're to be parents, too?"

He frowned, still sheathed within your gummy walls but with both elbows now planted on either side of you so he could pet your hair from your face. "It's very true, we've just gotta train your ear to accept it," he whispered, taking your hand and presenting your ring. "See this? Know what this means?"

"That I am yours?"

Acacius scoffed and laced your fingers, "You're not property for me to own, my morning star, you are revered. The absolute prize, earned from years of service and turmoil to this Empire, your father. And in turn, I am who will protect you, love you; admire, respect, adore, cherish you. This ring means we are bonded in this life and the next, that we travel this path and every path beyond, together." He kissed your gemmed ring chastely, swearing, "It's you and I from now on, pretty girl. It's only us."

"That sounds too good to be true," you admitted in a whisper, lazily kissing one another. "Just us?"

"Just us."

"Promise?"

"Swear on my life," he rushed against your lips.

"Then tell me, sweet husband," you whispered, "what do you call that?" You couldn't help but laugh, pointing in the distance over his shoulder. Acacius torqued his torso to quickly turn over, spying Lucius on horseback atop the hill; waving his arm in glee.

"Oh, this fucking kid," Acacius groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and shoulder. You clung to him tightly in humor.

"He's the Emperor."

"Still a fucking kid, interrupting us. Thought we moved out here to get away from everyone and all their shit? Aren't we retired?" Marcus groaned, begrudgingly pulling out of your heat to spill his spend onto the blanket beneath you. He sat up to cover your bare body with his, pausing to gaze down at you fondly and caress the bare bump; then reaching for the meek clothing that had been tossed aside. "Did you know he was coming?" Acacius asked, both dressing swiftly as Lucius began his canter down the hill.

"No, he didn't send word ahead," you pointed out, "and it's still early morning, look, the doves are still out. Oh, he must've left in the middle of the night..."

"Think something's wrong?"

"Let's find out," you nodded, Acacius standing first in a simple wrapped around toga; reaching down to assist you to your feet. Your hand gently caressed your belly as you thanked him, both barefoot in the grass as you approached the deck of your open-concept home.

Lucius released his horse with your own in the paddock, opening his arms in grandeur as he jogged up the short steps to reach you. "Auntie, mh," he greeted, kissing your cheek sweetly with a tight embrace, "oh-hoooo, you're glowing! Look at yah." He pulled back only to offer his hand to Marcus, "General."

"Emperor," your husband greeted stiffly but still kindly, "to what do we owe this pleasant surprise?"

"Hm, yes, I, uh... I should've sent word ahead," he winced, grinning sheepishly. "I did not mean to interrupt your marital acts, though, I can see it's already paying off."

You tisked your tongue and nudged his shoulder as you supported your bump with one hand. "Tell us, what news? What's wrong? What brings you all the way out here, Lucius?"

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong. I am starting my tour," he proudly announced, "and the road takes me past here, so... I might've wanted to, you know, stop a bit early..." You looked back to the hill, finding it bare for several long seconds, then back at Lucius - who avoided your eyes comically.

"Oh, Lucius, you didn't..."

"What?" Acacius asked. "What did you do?"

"I... Did nothing... Wrong, per se," Lucius amended, slowly backing up into the house with hands held in innocent defense.

"You snuck out!?" You gasped shrilly. "Lucius! You cannot do such things as Emperor - the whole of the city would burn if they thought something happened to you!"

"They know where I usually am!"

"Not when you sneak out in the middle of the night! Praetorians will flood the country looking for you!" You swatted at his beefy arms, him laughing and trying to back away; never hitting hard enough to leave marks, mostly just with enough force to cause a sound. "And that will scare the citizens! And the occupants of the city, and the fucking Senate, since the Emperor himself has now gone missing!" Acacius watched with a fond smile and followed as you backed Lucius into the home. "Just look at you, boy! Look! Look what politics does! You've lost weight - they not feeding you at the Palace? Oh, bullshit, there's so much, it's often left over. I'll have a word with them - c'mon, come, come, come, you must be hungry after riding all night. Speaking of, why did you?"

Lucius shrugged with a smirk and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, yours latching around his waist; both strolling towards the kitchen as he quipped, "Just missed you, I guess."

[ part one: read here ]

[ part two: read here ]

requesting rules and masterlist -> no Gladiator II masterlist

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yaeggravate · 6 months ago

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could capitano be anfortas alberich?

it's more likely than you think 👍🏽✨️

arguments in favor of anfortas = capitano:

capitano's potential constellation could be the three nails which is a reference to jesus' crucifixion. i honestly can't picture this constellation belonging to any other harbinger unless sandrone's ruin guard is carrying some heavy bagage.

anfortas is named after the fisher/sinner king from arthurian legend, he is usually portrayed as a jesus-like figure in more modern adaptations, due to his never-ending suffering. he was also stabbed with the holy spear in the same side as jesus during his crucifixion.

in the poem the waste land by t.s. eliot, he associates the fisher king with the tarot card the three staves. in some tarot decks (most notably thoth which is pictured below), the three staves are positioned exactly like the three nails

anfortas' fate is currently unknown, as he is khaenri'ahn it's not unreasonable to assume he could've survived for 500 years

his relative kaeya was conveniently present when varka's letter about capitano was being read in an event about lost family members

according to varka, capitano hides his face so no one can know his identity and origins. anfortas was part of the schwanenritter which is a reference to the swan knight legend, where the knight had to conceal his identity, name and origins

varka says capitano is an ordinary mortal with the courage to go up against gods which is basically khaenri'ah's motto

capitano's helmet has a makeshift 8-pointed star on it which is usually associated with khaenri'ah (tbf 8-pointed stars can also be found in other places, such as the adventurer's guild, the hexenzirkel and now natlan.)

capitano has blue eyes and so far every khaenri'ahn character we've met has blue-ish eyes with the exception of arlecchino who is descended from the crimson moon clan

anfortas and capitano are both commanders: anfortas was the knight marshal of the schwanenritter (and temporarily became regent of khaenri'ah), capitano is thee captain, the highest ranked harbinger

anfortas' personality is unclear so we can't really compare it to capitano's. BUT what we do know is that he temporarily filled in as regent when irmin was unavailable. he also executed his own comrade after they committed treason by sabotaging a machine yet he still gave them a proper knight's funeral. this could allign with the absolute righteousness and honor capitano is known for

capitano is highly praised and respected within the fatui and the same can be said for anfortas who was close enough to the king that he could petition him and whose subordinates believed in him until the end

An Abandoned Letter... I often think lately about how future generations will tell my story. Will I be a sinner? Or a hero... The situation here is dire, but I believe that our Marshal will find a way. I believe...

the author of this letter wondering if they'll be seen as sinners or heroes and believing anfortas will save them fits pretty well with the three nails constellation, a symbol of salvation and redemption

(there's some interesting irony in anfortas' name meaning infirmity (weakness/illness), which is the opposite of capitano being a strong man. capitano's commedia dell'arte counterpart was a braggart who only boasted about his strength.)

capitano is now in natlan. for some reason, kaeya's hidden strife letters are filled with fire imagery. kaeya's dad says the alberich clan "should lead lives as those who blaze like fire rather than those who wallow in the embers", which is reminiscent of the "secret" the pyro archon shares/will share with the traveler according to the travail trailer: "the rules of war are woven in the womb: the victors shall burn bright, while the losers must turn to ash."

*update: natlan is right next to one of anfortas' ruin golems and in a new world quest we find out there were two khaenri'ahn knights in natlan who were ordered by someone highly respected to stop the abyss from spreading. based on context clues their superior is likely anfortas. perhaps anfortas also ended up in natlan and something happened to him there

**update: the schwanenritter were most likely part of the black serpent knights, khaenri'ah's royal guard, since one of the schwanenritter used the same model as a black serpent windcutter. isn't it convenient then that capitano is dressed as a black serpent with those black scales and visor in the triangular shape of a snake's head?

arguments against the theory:

anfortas lost his left eye, while capitano is said to have dark blue eyes plural. however, it's unclear if anfortas literally lost his left eye or was merely blinded. he could have also grown back the eye cause idk khaenri'ah genes/abyss goo/bald

three harbingers from khaenri'ah seems a bit overkill. (though you could argue we already have three harbingers from snezhnaya: childe, pulcinella and pantalone.) we don't have any harbingers from natlan (or liyue), and currently capitano seems like the most likely option. however, knowing hyv's colorism, it could be columbina instead. according to the harbinger wheel columbina should be arriving after arlecchino, although we haven't seen her in any of the trailers yet. (all hope for brown-skinned capitano is not lost if he's related to kaeya though!)

since anfortas is the "fisher" king and ended up with one eye, he could be kaeya's "pirate" grandpa or even his dad and i'm not too confident hyv is gonna imply capitano had a lover with kids unless he gets signora'd lol. on the other hand, arthurian anfortas was famously saved by his nephew, which could mean our anfortas is kaeya's uncle.

***update: capitano can use nightsoul which is exclusive to people from natlan. however, the traveler can also use phlogiston (though no word on nightsoul yet) and mavuika senses an "unusual presence" inside cap which could explain his powers

#not to be dramatic but if he's not im uninstalling #.txt #lore bytes

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thewalkingwillowtree · 11 months ago

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Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love.

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 24.

Xilä is my own creation.

Part 20 - New Life

From her spot around the crackling fire, Xilä felt as if she were being watched. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was though.

Since their arrival at Awa’atlu, she’d gotten her fair share of stares and peaks and glances. She’d expected it really.

Physically wise, Xilä was no Omaticaya, so she didn’t blame the Metkayina people for their curiosity. She herself was curious about them.

So when the other clans had arrived- all in their varying physicality's, she wasn’t the only one of interest and it was nice if she were being honest.

But Aonung however, well his stares were different. She didn’t think they had anything to do with her features, not really. It didn’t feel rude or inappropriate either. More… intrigued, perhaps? Confused?

He always watched her as if he had a question right at the tip of his tongue, but he never asked. Instead he’d always pursue his lips and look away.

Tonight, a large group of them- all mostly within the same age bracket, had escaped to a nearby little island, which was nothing more than a sandy beach with very little vegetation.

Away from the rest of their families, they built an impressive bonfire and made themselves comfortable on woven mats whilst pouches and cups of strongly brewed spirits and fermented wine were shared around.

Xi politely declined any offers of the alcoholic beverages and was thankful that no one questioned her about it.

Their large group was scattered along the shoreline, creating clusters of conversations and activities and attraction was heavy in the air.

For those single- the women whispered and giggled amongst their groups, eyes darting over to whichever male had caught their attention.

As for the men- well, their own peeks and glances weren’t as hidden either, not even the ones being silly and dumb by daring each other to do stupid things by the water’s edge.

There were even couples- some mated like her and Neteyam who cuddled and spoke quietly as if they were in their own world, gazes locked and glistening with love.

The vibe and atmosphere all reminded Xilä of the night she’d completed her rites. They were all so young and full of life. And the rare freedom to let go and be themselves- away from elders or younglings, it was refreshing.

Unable to bear the feeling any longer, Xilä finally turned away from her mate and met Aonung’s intense stare.

He was quite a sight to see- he always was really. Aonung had not one, but two gorgeous females under his arms. A flirty, bubbly thing- the daughter of an Anuri warrior who seemed to be animatedly talking his ear off.

And the other- a sultry, vixen of a Metkayina woman whose lips appeared to be permanently attached to his skin- her mouth lavishing and sucking at his neck with gusto. The woman whispered something to him- something that made his lips quirk devilishly.

“I’m beginning to think your friend has a staring problem,” Xilä murmured to her mate.

“He’s asking for it now,” Neteyam replied through gritted teeth. “I won’t warn him a second time.”

She probably shouldn’t have said anything. “Ignore him. He’s probably doing it on purpose, trying to test your patience.”

“Sure.”

Xilä tittered when he wrapped a possessive arm around her and allowed herself to be shifted out of view- face pushed into a hard chiselled chest. She didn’t need to glance up to know her mate was probably boring holes into Aonung’s head.

Their bickering hot and cold, frenemy relationship never failed to amuse her. They were adults- men, but yet they behaved like boys around each other.

The Metkayina male gave him a knowing smirk before returning to the conversation with the group surrounding him- his voice so important that all eyes fell on him to hear what he was saying.

Lo’ak’s laugh pulled Neteyam’s attention away- and Xilä’s.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” she whispered, peeking out to observe the couple seated nearby. “He’s completely smitten.”

Neteyam watched Lo’ak and Tsireya. His head was in her lap and their fingers were interlocked- they looked every bit in love.

He’d never seen his brother so open with affection. Not with anyone really. Lo’ak was a heartbreaker- unknowingly to himself. Kiri didn’t joke about his fan club for no reason. His brother had charm and the moves to have any woman at his feet- something Neteyam had once upon a time been jealous of.

But this? This open display of ‘this is my woman’- Neteyam had never seen this from him.

“Oh yeah... He’s a goner. She’s good for him.”

When the drums and bone flutes began with a deafening roar, Xilä was quick to find Kiri- both girls pulling a hesitant Tsireya along to dance amongst a growing crowd.

And while she was busy, Neteyam enjoyed conversing with a spontaneously formed group of men he and Lo’ak had befriended during their stay. There were K’ayno and Astlu- cousins from the Tipiani clan, Ye’k- a warrior from Ta'unui and Cxian the son and next in line Olo'eyktan of the Sarentu clan.

Neteyam of course couldn’t help himself and still kept careful watch on Xilä, lips quirking upwards every time his eyes landed on her. She was enchanting as she moved- standing out from everyone else.

She and Tsireya eventually made their way to him and Lo’ak- Xilä begging him to dance with her- eyes dangerous and weaponized to make him weak, however could he say no?

They danced for what felt like hours- yipping and twirling on fast feet. Rhythmic music beats speeding up, Xi’s hips moved wildly in time with the drums. Neteyam followed, eyes heated and intense on the woman before him, hands greedy and unable to not touch her skin while he stole and planted kisses wherever he could.

It was electrifying.

There was no one else but her and him.

As the night wore on, almost everyone was on their feet, bodies moving carefree and minds loose as they gave in to the spirit of the music.

Eventually needing a break, Neteyam left Xilä in the trusted hands of his brother, sister, and now soon to be sister-in-law. Xi loved dancing, she was not stopping any time soon, he knew.

Returning from relieving himself in a secluded patch of shrubbery, he saw a lone figure near the water’s edge.

“Not in a dancing mood, I see,” he teased, startling his friend who had been tossing pieces of his meal into the calm ocean, a sort of game with a few clustered ilu.

“Not really, no. Although I must say it was quite shocking to see you of all people out there with the rest of them. Last I remember from your previous visit, you turned down almost every teenage girl who’d dared muster the courage to ask you to dance.”

Neteyam snorted. “Yeah well what can I say, Aonung? Those girls weren’t my wife.”

Aonung's flickered to his, and the same curious expression he’d been staring at Xilä with was now directed at him. He stared as if wondering who the man in front of him was- as if seeing him for the first time.

“Alright, enough. Spit it out. What’s the matter? If I didn’t know you, with all the looks and staring you’ve been giving my mate lately, I’d think you were interested in her- but I do know you so I know you’re not stupid enough for it to be that. What’s going on Aonung?”

Aonung’s gaze fell. Jaw clenched in irritation, he pretended to be far more interested in the rolling sea.

Before Neteyam could speak again, they were interrupted.

“Aonuuung, come dance with me,” a Metkayina woman crooned through slurred speech. She plastered herself to him, most likely unaware that Neteyam was standing right there since her fingers tried to creep into Aonung’s loincloth. “Or do you want to sneak any instead? I’ll do that thing with my tongue like last time and maybe we could-”

“Zers’i,” Aonung chided, although there was no real bite to it. “Go find someone else to warm your bed tonight. I’m sorry, but I’m not very good company right now.”

“Oh…�� She pouted dramatically- huffing in disappointment when he pulled her hand away from groping him. “Well maybe next time then, yeah?”

“Next time,” he promised.

Neteyam coughed and looked away when the woman promptly kissed him- practically sticking her tongue down his throat in goodbye before finally stumbling back to the dancing crowd.

“Brother, don’t even.”

But Neteyam couldn’t keep a straight face.

Aonung scowled and flopped to the ground with a sigh when he heard his friend’s stifled titters turn into a full bellied laugh.

“Right… no, because while I’m thoroughly traumatized, that- that was entirely too entertaining.”

“How’d you and Xilä happen?”

“What?” Neteyam sobered up quickly at the sudden question.

Aonung blew out a breath and hung his head, elbows digging into his propped thighs. “I need a mate. Soon.”

Understanding dawned upon Neteyam. He glanced over to the crowd in the distance and once he spotted Xilä who was squashed between Kiri, Tsireya and a few other familiar females, he slumped down onto the sand beside his friend.

“A mate… You’ve been given a deadline I’m assuming?”

“A year. One fucking year,” Aonung rasped.

“Shit.” And Neteyam thought his six years were ridiculous.

“I don’t know how you do it. I don’t think I’m cut out for all this. How do you deal with the pressure? We have to take over from our fathers, follow in their great and mighty footsteps- lead an entire clan of people who hold us with the highest of expectations. They expect us to find a woman and make sure we produce the future generation, they expect us to be the best examples and not step an inch out of line because when we mess up it’s-”

“Our responsibility and we should have known better… yeah.” Neteyam rubbed the back of his neck. He knew exactly where Aonung was coming from- from each and every side. “Believe me I get it- all of it.”

They sat quietly for a few long minutes- the drums and yips and hoots being the only thing they heard until Aonung broke the silence between them.

“Your Xilä is great- amazing. I’m halfway not joking when I say sometimes that I’d steal her from you… but she baffles the shit out of me.”

“It what way?”

Aonung shrugged. “She’s as in love with you as you’re in love with her. Right?”

Well now Neteyam was straight up confused. “I’d say so, yeah.”

“And it’s not all an act?”

“Fuck no. What are you trying to get at?”

“The last time you were here, you said you’d probably never take a mate. You said- what was it again? Oh right, that you hated the pressure of being “the chief’s kid and wish you had the guts to do things your way.” Did I remember all of that right?”

“Impeccable memory there, brother. You should also note that I was sixteen and an idiot.”

“Skxawng relax,” Aonung chuckled, amused by Neteyam’s sudden defensiveness. “I’m glad you found happiness, truly. I’m simply looking for it myself. You saw a couple of the others-” he jerked his chin towards a certain group of men- men like them who either followed in their father’s footsteps, or “married” into it. “Not everyone like us gets lucky like you.”

Neteyam absorbed his words. He knew arranged matings were the norm for most clans. Some pairings eventually found love, while others tolerated the match. Neteyam knew he was blessed, this trip had solidified it as much.

Of the many Na’vi who’d shown up to Awa’atlu, he and Aonung had met some of the unlucky ones- the ones who’d taken another out of duty and expectation. It wasn’t that they were out right miserable, but it was clear as day… They weren’t really happy.

“I guess I should be grateful that my parents are allowing me to find my own mate and haven’t just thrown someone at me… K’ayno over there”- he pointed to the Tipani man- “his mate was picked out for him before he could even talk. They’ve been together for eight years already. They’ve got a kid and another on the way… does it seem like there’s an ounce of affection in that relationship to you?”

“Eight years? He’s only two years older than me..”

“Yeah. And I don’t want that. Couldn’t do it.”

Neteyam distractedly nodded in agreement, mind whirling away.

“How’d you choose her though? Xi? How did you decide to spend an eternity with that one woman?”

“Eywa.”

“Eywa? That’s a given, ‘Teyam. I’m being serious here.”

“And so am I. Look, just like you I got a deadline, not only that but a blood-oathed yes from me, sealed the deal- I had no choice. At first I did try to make a connection. Nothing felt right. I fooled around with a couple women- though, not as openly as you, my friend,” he said, making them both chuckle. It eased the tension somewhat. “But it wasn’t until Xilä who practically landed in my arms, did I know. Eywa’s to thank for that.”

After another quick glance to his woman, he continued. “She’s impossible not to love. It was fast. I didn’t even court her. I claimed her as mine without going through all the traditional bullshit, and pissed off our mothers and half the clan while at it… and I have no regrets. I’d do it all the same way in a heartbeat.”

Aonung’s brows rose high at the admission of pissing off their mothers and made a playful jab that made the conversation veer off topic for a couple minutes.

“Man, your story was sweet and all, but that tells me nothing. How’d you know it was Xi?”

He considered the question. “I cared.”

“You… cared? That’s it? It was that easy?”

“She was the first thing on my mind when I woke up and the last before I slept. It might sound trivial, but I cared about whether she’d eaten dinner or what her plans were for the rest of the day. I wanted to know everything about her. What her favourite food was, what her past was like, what she wanted for her future. I wanted to know what her fears were and what I could do to make them all go away. I hated sharing her- wanted her all to myself all the fucking time. And… and I’d never felt an ounce of any of that with anyone. Ever.”

Aonung had an indescribable look on his face as Neteyam spoke. He shook his head, brows furrowed in hopelessness. “I don’t even know where to begin looking for someone like that. Not that I even tried looking yet, that is.”

“So don’t.” Neteyam shrugged, “This might be shit advice, so take it at your own risk… but maybe you shouldn’t look. I had about given up until Xilä came along. Maybe it can work for you too. Eywa will hear your heart.”

Aonung reluctantly nodded. “Thanks,” he said in a tight voice, and Neteyam knew his thanks weighed heavily- that it meant more.

“Oh and by the way, if you tell anyone about this little conversation, I’ll deny it and kick your ass. I’m not giving up hope for round two with you and beating you this time around.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Neteyam shoved him with a grin of his own.

His friend's chin jerked forward to where Xilä stood a couple feet away, seeming unsure if she should interrupt.

“I think your pretty mate misses you,” he pointed out, taking in the way her cheeks were flushed and hair was wild and askew from her dancing. There was no doubt she was gorgeous and although he was wholeheartedly happy for Neteyam, he still felt that subtle pang of jealousy.

“I’ll see you bro,” Neteyam said, eyes drawn to his waiting wife. They both got to their feet and slapped arms in parting.

Aonung watched Neteyam greet his mate, head ducking low to claim her lips, one palm cupping her cheek, the other pulling her close while Xilä tucked her fingers into his belt.

“Hi baby,” he heard Neteyam murmur, “you ready to go?”

Xilä whispered something that Aonung couldn’t make out, but it made Neteyam laugh and kiss her again, deeper as if he hadn’t seen her for ages.

And when they broke apart- voices hushed and eyes intensely locked, Aonung didn’t miss the way his friend’s palm spread across the span of Xilä’s stomach… or the way they both looked down to where it rested, smiles matching in the moonlight.

The old device gave a loud whirring noise that made all three of them cringe and wince in discomfort. Xilä in particular slapped her palms to her ears to try and muffle the sound, while Neteyam himself clenched his teeth together- ears flat to his head.

“Sorry! Sorry! Lemme just- oh don’t do this to me now.” Norm’s fingers moved furiously across the keyknobs and the instant the high pitched sound ended, he released a joyful WHOOP and raised his fist in the air. “It works! I am a fucking genius.”

Neteyam chuckled and peered over the older man’s shoulder at the large, clear monitor screen. The glass had a slight crack on the top left corner, but then again the thing was most likely ancient after all.

Xil watched too, fascinated by the numbers, letters and moving lines that flooded the “page” Norm had brought up.

“Alright then genius, lets see you get it up and running now.”

They left him to it, and it took him another half hour filled with curses and threats at the poor device, but with a final few strokes of the keyboard, Norm was looking back at Stephan and Max- their background being the familiar scenery of the labs back at Home Camp.

Between him and Stephan, they made a few more tweaks, and then- finally then, Xilä was staring back at her parents who were also awed by the technology like her.

“Xilä! Oh magnificent Eywa- Jxo, look, look it’s our Xilä!” Salveen was yelling at the top of her lungs. “Darling, can you see us too?! Can you hear me?!” the elder screeched while her face pressed up into the glass.

Norm, Xilä and Neteyam smothered their amusement while watching a very patient Max explain to her parents how the communication worked and that they could speak normally.

“We’ll give you some time to catch up, but I’ll be back, okay?” Neteyam murmured before he and Norm quickly made their way out of the designated mauri used for communications- a makeshift lab of some sort.

“Hi,” Xilä breathed, smiling wide at the sight of them after so long, fingertips gently pressed to the glass.

“Oh I miss you, my sweet girl. Darling you’re glowing, you look so beautiful, doesn’t she, Jxo?”

Jxo grunted in agreement. “When are you coming back?” was the first thing he said.

Xilä’s smile faulted a little, she was going to have to tell them. “I miss you too. So much. Have you been taking care of yourselves?”

“Bah, we’re fine. Just fine. Oh I have so much to tell you though. You’ll never guess who broke off their betrothal!”

On and on Sal went, filling Xilä in on all the latest gossip of the Camp. Xilä awed and gasped and laughed throughout it all- giggling, especially when Sal would throw out a “right, Jxo?” to which the man would simply nod or grunt in agreement.

Xilä loved them both so much. Right now all she longed for was to hug them, to physically see them in person. She missed them a ridiculous amount.

She perked up when she heard a familiar shriek in the background.

D’avi and Yalnïk appeared with their two babbling children. “Xilä!”

“D’aviii!”

L’eya was plonked onto her grandfather’s lap and then an overly excited D’avi invaded most of the space on the screen and started blubbering away- much like her mother had done before.

There were many “I miss yous” and “look how shiny and long your hair has gotten!” and “when are you coming home?”

Both sisters were momentarily in their own little world and Xi was saved from answering her sister’s last question when L’eo shrieked- the baby clearly needing some attention.

Yalnïk and D’avi proudly filled her in on the twins' newest milestones. L’eo was even more a talker now, and Xilä had just about burst into tears when Yalnïk pointed to her and asked his son to say hi to his aunty Xilä- to which L’eo strung together a jumbled mess of words that sounded exactly like it.

L’eya had finally taken her first steps and was now cautiously toddling around after her brother who’d Xi had had the joy witnessing his own first steps before she’d left.

Jxo had gotten up to give Xilä a little demonstration by placing the baby down on shaky legs. She was still wobbly and didn’t want to let go of her grandfather’s fingers, but she managed to make a couple solid steps before falling on her bum. L’eya’s bottom lip wobbled in preparation to cry but still distractedly clapped her hands along with everyone else when they’d cheered her.

Xilä had tears running down her cheeks by now. “Ah my babies, I miss you two so much,” she sobbed whilst smiling back at the toothy little grins of her chatty excited niece and nephew who blew her sloppy kisses.

“Do you want me to come get you?” Jxo suddenly asked- voice gruff and no nonsense as ever. He kept staring at her as if trying to figure something out. “What’s that damn boy doing to you? You keep crying, darling. I don’t like it.”

“Jxo!” Sal chided but her mate paid her no mind.

He simply handed her L’eya and came closer to the screen, frown deepening. “Where’s he at, Xilä? I want to talk to him.”

Xilä couldn’t help laughing while she frantically tried to remove the evidence from her under her eyes and cheeks. “I’m fine, father. I am. Neteyam is as wonderful as ever to me. I just really miss you all. Finally talking and seeing you,” she sniffled, “just makes me really happy.”

Her father seemed to buy it after a couple more of her assurances.

Her family asked about life at Awa’atlu- Yalnïk in particular was highly interested in the fishing techniques and gear- which Xilä suggested he ask her husband instead- she’d not really paid any attention to the job.

D’avi told her that Leati and Ze’lu had finally started courting- much to Fe’ska’s displeasure and apparently there was a very public argument between the mother and daughter that was all the clan could talk about for days.

They spent another half hour of bonding before Neteyam returned and quietly asked if she was ready for him to interrupt. Crouched beside her with a warm palm to her thigh, he greeted her family and caught up with them- marvelling over how much the twins had grown in the few months they’d been gone.

And when the Sully family started trickling in- Spider included of course and when Mo’at appeared on the screen as well- it was like one big happy reunion.

Mo’at had eyes for only her at first, ignoring everyone else in favour of asking about her health. The Tsahìk was not usually the fretting type, but with all the questions and attention, Xilä had a feeling that the grandmother knew.

Afterwards Lo’ak introduced them to his lovely future mate who shifted nervously under Mo’at’s assessing gaze. D’avi saved the awkward encounter by complementing Tsireya’s hair, and from there, the two became quite chatty.

Finding the right moment, Neteyam stood, cleared his throat, calling for everyone’s attention. He squeezed the back of his mate’s neck in comfort when she leaned her head against his leg.

“So, I’ll admit, I had a bit of an ulterior motive for making all this happen. We- Xilä and I have some news we’d like to share.”

A soft gasp was heard through the computer- D’avi.

“Oh I knew-mpf!”

Yalnïk covered his mate's mouth like he’d probably had to do a thousand times, and shot Neteyam a sheepish smile and nod to continue.

“Right, um, baby?” He offered her his hands and helped her stand.

Xilä was nervous, but with an uncontrollable excited grin, she pushed down the bunchy material of her long slitted skirt which sat high up on her waist and revealed the little bump she’d been hiding for the last couple of weeks.

“Surprise! I’m pregnant!”

The noise that erupted was deafening- cheers and screams and cries of happiness which was mildly overwhelming.

Neytiri was the first to wrap her up in a hug, pulling back to cup Xilä’s cheeks with a blinding smile before she was leaning over to do the same to her son.

Sal was just about squeezing the life out of poor Jxo as she squealed and jabbered on and on.

“I knew it!” D’avi was telling Kiri whilst taking a whining L’eo into her arms, and blindly pulling at her top so her baby could feed. “She’s got the glow- and the tears.”

“Shit, you’re right, the tears! I knew something was up,” Spider laughed, “no regular sane person cries over fruit- Ow! Kiri!”

Kiri rolled her eyes at him, then made her move to congratulate her brother and sister-in-law.

“XiXii!” Lo’ak shouted from across the room. “I’m really going to be an uncle? You- you’re not pranking, right? Because this is the best day everrrr! Babe, hold me,” he fake sobbed dramatically, throwing himself at Tsireya.

A frowning Tuktirey had made her way to her eldest brother and patted his leg to get his attention. He’d been wrapped up in a hug by his father who was teasing him about his upcoming journey of fatherhood.

“Hey there, baby sis.” He lifted her up with a dramatic groan and planted a kiss on her cheek.

Tuk poked his nose and then frowned at Xilä who was chatting away with Mo’at and her family through the screen. “You’re still gonna love me the most right?” she pouted. “Even when the baby comes?”

“Aw, Tuk. Are you worried about that?”

The little girl shrugged and played with the beads on his choker. “Täylley said when her sister had a baby, everyone forgot about her. She said they only ever wanted to play with the new baby. Just like everyone sometimes does with L’eo and L’eya.”

Neteyam knew the feeling Tuk was experiencing all too well. He was the eldest of four after all.

“I’m sorry your friend’s feeling that way but I’m sure that’s not the case at all. And it definitely won’t be the case for you. Who do you think is going to teach the baby how to build a fort or paint the best looking flowers I’ve ever seen?”

“I can climb the best in my class. I bet they wouldn’t know how to do that either.”

“Nope. See, they’ll need an expert like you to show them.”

“Yeah, I can show them… but only when they get older. When they could talk- and walk,” Tuk said, hesitantly as if trying not to get too excited.

“That’s right.. You know, the baby, and L’eo and L’eya are going to need someone they can look up to. Someone awesome, and brave and smart. Someone who can-”

Tuk’s eyes were wide as she absorbed her brother’s words. “Me. Me! I can be that person. I know I’m only seven, but I can do it! Almost- almost like a big sister, right?”

Neteyam kissed her cheek again and playfully tickled her side. “That’s right.”

Xilä shook her head at her mother’s question. “I haven’t really been sick, mostly nauseous around certain scents.”

“Oh you lucky bitch,” D’avi teased without heat. “These two had me constantly throwing up for the first four months straight, and then it was a constant fight or dance party inside me for the other eight.”

“What has Ronal been giving you for your daily nutritional maintenance?” Mo’at asked with a slight frown.

“A couple things I’m unfamiliar with. But I feel fine and my energy is good. Once I have a nap in the afternoon, I’m not overly tired for the rest of the day.”

“What worries you mother?” Neytiri, who was at Xilä’s side, asked.

“I know not about the Metkayina’s ways. I would be far more comfortable knowing Xilä was under my care. How far along are you, dear? Did Ronal confirm?”

“I’m nearing the end of my fifth month,” Xilä admitted with a hand to her stomach. She knew where this was going. She knew it was time to share the other part of the news with her family- news she was dreading.

“She- Ronal strongly advises against me returning home until a couple months after the birth.”

“What?!!” D’avi and Sal exclaimed together. Even Neytiri- and Kiri, who had just joined, glanced at her in alarm, Jxo’s lighthearted expression turned to stone.

“We don’t leave here for another two and a half months and by then I’ll be too far along to risk the journey by ikran… I’m sorry mother, I-”

“No… No, Tsahìk, tell her it’s fine,” Sal gently demanded- though a hint of hysteria poked through.

“I’m afraid Ronal is right. I was against you going on this trip in the first place. But it wasn’t for me to say at the time- and the risk was far lower. As much as you may not like it Xilä, the safest thing for you and the baby is to stay there.”

Neteyam didn’t think he could ever tire of the beauty spanned before him. Even at night, Awa’atlu was a sight to behold.

He and Xilä sat on the beach while calm waves rolled in, kissing the tips of his toes before fading back. His pretty mate sat between his propped up thighs, head and body molded to his chest while he cradled her bump.

Since they’d found out she was expecting two months ago, her bump had grown- still small but prominent enough that she couldn’t hide it anymore.

“You’re quiet tonight. Too quiet.”

“Just thinking.”

“More like overthinking. I can hear your thoughts a mile away, sweetheart… Tell me.”

She sighed. “I think it’s finally registered for me that we’re actually having a baby… a baby who’s going to be here in only a couple of months. Our baby, yours and mine… I- I’m going to be a mother.”

At her tone, Neteyam’s fingers paused their gentle caressing on her bump. He said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“I know we’ve had conversations before and I agreed to all of this, and I’m not backing out- I’m not. But I’m scared, Neteyam. Eywa gave us a precious gift.”

Her hands came up to rest over his. “I’m scared that I’m going to mess this up somehow. I don’t know the first thing about being a good mother. I mean, look at last month- I completely freaked out when I felt our baby flutter inside of me for the first time.”

Still listening, her mate hugged her closer, chin nudging her temple, propped thighs pressing into hers.

“My birth parents messed me up. Their own parents messed them up too. I want to break that cycle. I refuse to be like them. But it doesn't stop my worrying and I- Ugh… You probably think I’m being silly bringing this all up again.”

“Xilä…” Neteyam licked his lips and exhaled a breath. “You’re not alone in the way you’re feeling. You don’t think I worry about being a good father? Of course I do. But we’re in this together. You and me, baby. We’ll figure it all out together too. And you what? We’re going to mess up. We’re going to make mistakes. There’s no perfection in all of this.”

He flipped the arrangement of their hands, his covering hers as they rested against her skin. “But you know what? The little one we created inside there? We’re going to try our damn hardest to be the best parents we could possibly be for them, and we’re going to love the heck out of our kid. ”

“Yeah?” Her head tilted to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, baby. You and me. Always...” He ducked and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re going to be an amazing mother, Xilä. Our baby is lucky.”

Just as Xilä was about to respond, a sharp gasp escaped her lips instead.

Neteyam tensed. “What-”

“‘Teyam, I-” She grappled for his palm and moved it lower- just under her navel where she’d felt it.

He was going to ask her what was wrong when he felt it too- he felt the light pressure press into his hand, a small little first hello from his baby.

“Was that-” And if he thought he’d imagined it he certainly didn’t, because he felt it again, and then again.

“Oh Eywa,” he whispered, meeting her awed ecstatic expression. “Was that the first time? First kick?”

“Uh-huh. Oh! There it is again.”

“Well hi there, little Sprout. Are you finally saying hello?”

“Sprout?” Xilä chuckled.

“Yeah, been calling them that in my head since your tiny bump first appeared.”

“Sprout. I like it- it’s a cute nickname… Hello, baby Sprout,” she sang to her tummy.

“Speaking of names, we’re going to have to pick one ou-”

“‘Teyam.” Xilä suddenly sat up and turned to give him her full attention, finality set in her expression. It had been eating her alive and now she was more sure than ever.

“I know Ronal said it’s not safe- but I really don’t want to have the baby here. I want to go home. I want us to go home.”

And without hesitation or worry over how he was even going to make it happen, Neteyam gave her a firm nod. “Okay. Then we’re going to go home.”

“Are you going to get big like D’avi was? She was so huge! Bigger than Täylley’s sister when she was having her baby.”

“A-ha! Um, maybe. D’avi was having twins after all.”

“Oh right… Is it only Sprout then? They’ll be lonely inside of there don’t you think? Oh! Do you remember the christening grandmother Sal took us too? The one where her- her friend’s daughter had three babies?! You should do that Xi.

You should grow three.”

“Three?” Xilä spluttered with a laugh. “Why three?”

“Three’s better. There’ll be one for me, one for L’eo and one for L’eya to play with,” the seven year old stated matter-of-factly.

“I see… Well, I’m sorry I can’t make that happen. I don’t think it works like that. And anyway, Ronal confirmed there’s only one little one growing inside of me right now.”

“Oh. Mm that’s okay too, I guess. We’ll just have to share, but I’ll be the baby’s fav-”

Tuk stopped. Her brow wrinkled as she pondered in thought, fingers pausing their works on the pile of sand she and Xilä were constructing.

“Xilä? Do you think Sprout will like me? Täylley fights all the time with her sister’s baby- and he can’t even talk yet! She said he’s always pulling her hair or biting her finger! Can you believe that?”

Xilä tried her hardest not to laugh at the little girl’s theatrics. “I think the baby will love you, Tuk. Just like I do. I’m a little jealous that my baby will grow up having someone amazing like you in their life, honestly.”

“I am pretty amazing, huh?” Tuk nodded seriously, making Xilä smother another incoming chuckle.

Tuktirey scooted over on her knees, sandy little hands reaching out to rest against Xilä’s bump. “I think you’d be a really great mommy.”

Xilä sucked in a surprised breath. “Yeah? What makes you say that?” she whispered.

“Just because, and my mommy and daddy said so too last night,” Tuk shrugged while she continued to rub Xilä’s belly, rendering the pregnant woman slightly speechless.

“Why’s the baby so quiet? Can you make Sprout do the kicking thing again?”

“Baby’s probably sleeping. Lately, they seem to like keeping me awake at night with all their stretching and kicking. Shall we see if we can wake them up?”

After a couple nudges and feeling around, they finally felt a small, almost barely there kick which made Tuktirey giggle then pout when the baby didn’t move again.

“I think Sprout’s a bit grumpy today. Probably telling us off for disturbing their sleep.”

Tuk sighed dramatically, a sigh that reminded Xilä too much of Sal. “Okay, well let's get back to work then. I’ll finish the mountains and you dig the hole for the lake. Then we can fill it with water.”

“Hey, Tuk,” Xilä called when she caught sight of a lonely figure. Ronal and Tonowari’s youngest son was playing in the sand by himself a couple feet away. “This seems like a really big task. Why don’t you invite him to come help us?”

“Ohh, great idea!”

Once the trio completed their masterpiece and the kids decided to run off and play near where Neytiri was helping shell clams with a couple other women, Xilä stepped away and walked toward the shoreline.

A cool breeze sent her hair flying. She shook out the thin shawl she’d been sitting on and wrapped it around her shoulders instead to combat the chill of the wind.

Neteyam and Aonung were still where she’d left them since she’d come out here. They were further out- knee length deep in the crystal clear waters as they fished.

Xilä bit her lip at the sight before her. She openly ogled her mate, appreciating the ripples of his back muscles and biceps while he worked the massive net in his hands. Aonung must've said something funny, because her husband's shoulders shook slightly.

“Can you not look at my brother like that in public, Xilä?” Kiri complained with a dramatic groan, making the pregnant woman jump as she approached. “I get that your hormones are all over the place but sheesh. Every time I see you it’s the same damn look. No one needs to see your fuck me eyes in public. Bleh.”

“Well hello to you too. I’ll remember this the next time you want to drag me to the training rings to spectate and find that Tasam’s the one who’s conveniently already there, mid-fight. I’ll remember to tell you the same thing when you’re shooting him your own fuck me eyes, as you call it.”

Kiri’s mouth flopped open to argue a retort, but she quickly shut it when nothing came out. “Shut up,” she seemed to come up with, failing at hiding her blush while Xi laughed.

“Do you miss him?”

“A lot honestly…” She made a face. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all. You like him, it’s okay to miss him… Do you find it weird?”

“Yes. I find the entire thing strange. We went from never hanging out, to pretty much spending all of our free time together. And now I’m wondering, how’d I never noticed him before? It’s like one day he just appeared. And he’s so…”

“He’s so what?”

“Unexpected.” Kiri settled on. She sighed. “Did you know he told me he’s liked me for years? Years, Xi. I didn’t even notice. It took your sister one afternoon to pick up on it and meddle her way into creating this thing between him and me.”

Xi drew into the damp sand with her toes. The waters rolled in and covered her feet, erasing her artwork when it fell away. “Honestly? I’m not surprised you didn’t. I’m sure you’ve not even noticed your Awa’atlu admirer either.”

“What? Who?!”

Xilä jerked her chin towards Rotxo’s direction. The quiet man seemed to always appear wherever her sister-in-law was. He was currently seated nearby, whittling a spear whilst shooting not so subtle glances in their direction.

“Are you talking about Rotxo?!”

“Mmhm. He’s definitely got a crush. Very sweet too, don’t you think?”

Kiri stared at him with a tilt of her head, brows furrowed in thought. “Huh.”

Xi snickered.

A comfortable silence fell over them, where they both got lost in their own thoughts. Xi returned to appreciating her husband’s backside while Kiri pursed her lips as if forcefully trying to keep words in.

“Tasam said he’s going to ask me to court when we get back home.”

An audible click was heard when Xi flung her neck towards Kiri, mouth open in shock, then morphing into excitement. “And what did you say to that?”

“Nothing… and then I felt bad because there was a whole awkward silence moment happening while my brain went haywire. He told me not to say anything yet. He wanted me to take the time away to really think about it before making a decision.”

“Aww Kiri. This is exciting. Do you know what you’re going to tell him?”

“Not yet,” her sister-in-law replied, but there was no hiding the blushing smile she tried to rein in.

A splash had them both looking out at the sea again.

“Oh look, here comes, your admirer, and I’m not talking about your husband,” Kiri deadpanned.

“Hello beautiful,” Aonung called out, wading through the waters towards them with his and Neteyam’s catch for the morning.

“Stop flirting with my wife, skxawng.”

Aonung jogged ahead of him and sent Xilä a playful wink with his good eye as he passed.

“Better get out of here before he gives you a matching black eye, you fool,” Kiri taunted. She followed after him then broke off and headed towards Rotxo who’d beckoned her over.

“I really still can’t believe you punched him, ‘Teyam. You’re not boys anymore. You use your words, not your fists!”

“I did warn him though. He’s the one who decided to keep flirting with you,” her husband shrugged as he made his way closer. “He knew he had it coming.”

“Handsome! He only does it to piss you off. You could just ignore him. You know that right?”

“I like my solution better.”

“Of course you do.” This man never ceased to amaze her.

Like an insect to a flame, when he got in reach, Neteyam’s hands crept under her shawl and immediately found her belly, fingers trailing over the smooth firm skin.

“Hi,” he whispered in greeting, ignoring her exasperated expression and kissing her anyway. “How’s my little Sprout doing today?”

Sprout gave a big kick as if awakened by the sound of Neteyam’s voice- as if saying hello daddy!

“Quiet until now. Our baby always knows when it’s you.”

That made him happy.

“What are you doing later? If you’re not busy tonight, do want to go on a date with me?” he asked with a wiggle of his brows.

Xilä pressed up onto her toes and looped her arms around his neck. Her bump prevented her from getting closer, but she made it work.

“Always… Will there be sex at the end?” she teased quietly.

“It’s on the list of activities, yeah.”

“Good. We haven’t done that in a while and I miss you.”

“It’s been only four days, Miss Greedy.”

“Exactly, it has been four days. I’m glad you’ve been keeping track. You’re the one who keeps putting off every one of my efforts.”

“Yeah, cause… baby, you’ve been so tired lately and- hey, don’t even,” he said, halting her objection. “Sprout’s been keeping you up a lot with all the kicking and you need to rest. So, I’m making sure that you do when you can. Even if it means, no sex sometimes.”

Xilä stared up at him for a long minute- taking her time to roam over his facial features. “I love you. What did I do to deserve you? I must have done something right- something big.”

“Stop.” He was trying so hard not to blush. “I hope you remember you love me the next time you want to rip my head off for simply breathing too loud.”

“That was one time.”

He raised an amused brow as if saying really, babe?

“To be fair you have been behaving ridiculous lately. Actually if we’re checking, pretty much since you found out we’re expecting.”

“When have I ever been ridiculous?”

“Are you kidding me? I have a whole list of instances, but if you want more recent- You tried to ban me from hanging out with Spider and Lo’ak just this morning at breakfast!”

“Because the idiots wanted you to go with them to explore Cx’ove Creek!” he hissed. “Who in their right mind invites a pregnant woman to go exploring a srakat infested water cave for fun?”

“I told you already, they were just being nice and simply offered. I wasn’t actually going to go! You didn’t have to be so bossy about it.”

“But I thought you liked it when I was bossy?”

She turned flustered. “Well yes, but-”

Neteyam silenced her with a kiss. Then another when she was about to protest and one final one before she finally gave up trying to argue. “I love you too by the way. Are you hungry? Have you had your second breakfast yet?”

She shook her head with a grumpy frown, eyes following him when he squatted in front of her.

“I think your mama’s mad at me, Sprout,” he whispered to their baby, kissing right where felt a poke, “but don’t worry, I’m going to feed you both and then I think we should all take a nap, and that means you too. Can’t keep waking her up every night, alright?”

They both grinned at their baby’s nudge.

“Alright,” he said, getting up, “time for second breakfast.”

Second breakfast. It made her chuckle every time.

When Jake had picked up on her habit of having another meal after breakfast and before her first lunch, he started calling it “second breakfast” which was some sort of inside joke between him and Norm.

They tried to explain the movie where the joke came from. There was something about a quest and a ring and a creature called a hobbit?

And although it went over her head, second breakfast stuck.

Their final two months at Awa’atlu flew by, bringing many changes along with it.

The majority of the other clan leaders and clan representatives had by now returned to their homes, but for the Sully company, they’d stayed the longest. Jake and his team’s roles were far too important for the massive project they’d started.

What they had accomplished was far from simply great- it was incredible, completely world changing. They had gotten the clans of Pandora to come together. Uniting them in a way that was marked as historic.

With Norm’s guidance, a temporary form of communication between all clans was successfully up and running. It also aided the new system they were trying to implement for the sharing of resources which was finally underway.

And thanks to it, Neteyam was able to secure a safe solution for his wife to return home…

The moment he saw her, the man’s jaw dropped. His grin broadened at the sight of her midsection. “Well look at you, kiddo!” Stephan laughed as he gently hugged Xilä. “The bump suits you, doll. Congrats, darling.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, proudly, hand automatically running along said bump. “Nice hairstyle, it suits you,” she replied, taking in his new-do. The sides were shaved and the hair in the middle was short and spiky.

“Much more me, right?” he winked, moving forward to their packed things to grab up three overstuffed satchels in one hand and a wrapped heavy net in the other. She’d gotten Aonung to organize the specially crafted gift for her last week- she couldn’t wait to give it to Yalnïk.

Neteyam and Lo’ak had just strolled into the marui when she awkwardly tried to bend to pick up a bag with the intention of following after Stephan. A belly bump made simple everyday tasks difficult sometimes, she was still adjusting.

Her mate was quick to tell her off however, mildly scolding her for even attempting to lift anything.

Xilä huffed. “We’ve talked about this, Neteyam. I’m not an invalid. At least let me help carry something out to the ship.”

“Here.” He handed her a small pouch of seaglass stones she and Tuk had collected which made Lo’ak snort when Xilä shot her husband an unimpressed look.

He took off with his own armfulls- the large case he’d brought his weapons in, a thick rolled up pelt and the last three satchels that held their belongings.

“Four more months. Just four more months,” Xilä sang to herself. “Have I told you that your brother is driving me crazy, Lo’ak?”

“Only two or three times a day since you told us you were expecting,” he teased.

“Ugh! Everything is don’t lift that, don’t go there, that’s too dangerous, my baby shouldn’t be eating that, eat this instead, you should rest, you should sit, you should sleep! Eywa! If I didn’t love the man…”

“Hey, don’t look at me for help. You’re the one who willingly chose him as your mate. You knew what you were getting yourself into…” His playful words fell away as he stared at her. “I’m going to miss you, XiXi.”

“Don’t do that, Lo’. You’ll make me cry. Do we really have to do this now?”

He clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Xilä took one final glance at the now sparse marui before Lo’ak led them out onto the bouncing pathways.

“I’m going to miss you too, you know. You’d better not hold any blessing celebrations over you and Tsireya without me.”

“Nah. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. After that stunt Neteyam pulled with you, mom would kill me in a heartbeat, and Tsi’s parents aren’t people I want to cross either. Even grandmother threatened me on our last call. She wants to meet Tsireya in person before I officially ask Ronal and Tonowari for their blessing.”

“I get it. You’re bringing her on your visit in a couple of months right?”

“Yep. So you better not have that baby until we arrive.”

“I still can’t believe you’re moving out here. I am so happy for you, though.”

Lo’ak stopped and pulled her in for a hug, being extra careful not to squish her belly. “Hey Xi? I don’t think I ever apologized… but I’m sorry I was such an asshole the first time we met. You’re hella awesome.”

Xi hugged him a little tighter.

The beach was crowded that morning- much like it had been on the first first day they’d arrived. Many Metkayina surrounded Stephan’s ship, all awed and fascinated with the odd metal, bird-like aircraft.

From Xilä’s viewpoint she could see the eccentric Avatar giving a couple of the younglings a tour through the wide glass windows at the front of the ship.

This was it. It was time to return home.

Her and the Sullys’ goodbyes were bittersweet.

Awa’atlu had been their home for the past six months. She had formed deep connections, friendships and had grown attached to the sea and all the beauty that came with it.

“Take care of him for me, will you?” She overheard Neytiri asking Tsireya as they embraced. “He can be a handful sometimes- too stubborn for his own good, but he really is the sweetest boy.”

“Are you sure that contraption is safe?” Ronal interrupted, to ask Jake who was chatting with Tonowari. “I don’t know if it’s any better than your tempered ikrans. It doesn’t look like it.”

“It’s safe,” Jake assured. “They did a lot of repairs on the ship in preparation for this trip. Xilä and the baby will be well protected.”

She gave an unimpressed hum, but said nothing else on the matter. Her expression softened when Xilä approached to bid her goodbye. “You better bring that baby with you next time you visit. I can already sense your child will be destined for great things…”

Xi was finishing making her rounds when a voice called for her.

“Are you not going to say goodbye to me, beautiful?”

“Aonung.”

“Tsk. Aw come on Xi- I’m hurt, wounded,” he joked solemnly- palm over his heart.

“Take care of yourself, okay? I mean it.”

His smile fell a little. “I’m going to miss having you around. It was sure fun riling up your husband… I never did get to fight him again.”

A chest plastered against her back and she automatically leaned into it. “Yeah, cause you know you’d lose again, you skxawng,” Neteyam teased from over her head with a possessive palm to her round tummy.

Xi shook her head, highly amused- there they went again.

She was really going to miss this place.

Xilä’s reunion with her family was a joyful one. Welcomed home with open arms and all the love they had to give, she knew she made the right decision to come home.

Returning to the forest eased Xilä’s worries. It was safety, it was warmth and love. It was… home.

And although they’d been gone for six months, she and Neteyam had settled back in quite quickly and were able to return to their routines just like before.

She resumed her studies with Mo’at, eager to share all that she’d learned from the metkayina and Neteyam returned to his duties as a high ranker, along with all the other responsibilities he had under his belt.

What was most exciting was catching up on how much she’d missed out on.

Kah’lee and W’aote were on some sort of weird break where they weren’t talking but would still have the occasional “fuck session.” W’aote apparently was ready to settle down, but Kah’lee wasn’t- which was strange because before Xi left for Awa’atlu, it was the other way around. Kah’s hesitancy to officially court him sparked an argument between the two, thus creating the weird separation.

Leati and Ze’lu however were going strong. The female warrior loathed public displays of affection but Ze’lu appeared to be a stage five clinger- Kiri’s words, not hers. The man was completely in love and would smother his woman in affection despite her grumpy, lackluster protests.

Xilä personally thought they were a perfect couple. He calmed her bitchiness and temper tantrums and she brought him out of his shell. It was the perfect balance.

The twins' development, however, amazed Xi the most. They were toddling around everywhere now, and always chatting up a storm in a mixture of baby babbles and their ever growing learnt vocabulary.

They were also both fascinated with her belly bump, especially whenever Neteyam was able to coax a big movement from Sprout- tiny little hands patting her with excited squeals.

And speaking of babies. Xi and her husband had done a lot of preparing for their little one’s arrival. Xi had never sewed as much as she did before- Sal was a big help in that department.

Meanwhile Jxo and Neteyam did a lot of upgrades and rearranging of their tent in their spare time. Jake had pitched in too, only he called it baby proofing.

Her father had also built them the cutest little cot she’d ever seen… It was very similar to the ones he did for his first two grandbabies- and yes, she did cry when he gifted it to them.

Since finding out that they were going to be parents, the mated pair were eager to absorb as much information and advice from those closest to them. And sure, they would have the support whenever they needed it, but they wanted to learn to do as much of it as possible on their own.

As she neared the end of her pregnancy, Xi had grown increasingly miserable. She couldn’t move as fast as before. Her bump prevented her from certain tasks, her feet ached all the time, she could never find the right position to sleep in and quite frankly, she was just about ready for Sprout to move out.

Neteyam was another matter entirely.

Four weeks ago, Mo’at had instructed her that she was supposed to be taking it easy- an instruction her husband was all too eager and diligent in making happen…

He’d become increasingly overbearing and overprotective of her throughout her pregnancy. It seemed as if as her baby bump grew, so did his possessiveness.

He snapped at anyone who so much as breathed too much in her direction. It was probably worse than his clinginess back when she’d been rescued from Li’ona.

Suffice to say because of said behaviour, it was no surprise when he and the women of their family butted heads a few times.

Sal and Neytiri had to keep reminding him that pregnant women were tougher than they looked. He and D’avi also got into far too many bickering matches whenever he hovered and lingered during their “sisterly bonding dates”.

Kiri and Mo’at simply found Neteyam’s behaviour amusing- Xi was sure she’d never seen the grandmother so entertained before.

And when Xilä had finally met her twelve month mark- due date coming and going, there was no baby. She was a week overdue now and felt uncomfortably massive.

“Why doesn’t the baby want to come out,” she whined.

“You’ve made too good a home for your little one it seems,” Mo’at joked mildly as she ran her hands over the stretch of Xilä’s skin, fingers pressing down to feel the baby’s position. “We shall have to do some coaxing then, hm?”

“What kind of coaxing?” Neteyam asked quickly.

“Have her take a walk. She can try some char’mille tea, heavily spiced herb broth, perhaps a warm bath and sex.”

Xilä knew the list of suggestions, and yet even as the Tsahìk voiced the last one, her cheeks still tinged lightly. Her mate seemed unaffected though. He nodded seriously and asked his grandmother a couple other million questions- like he always did whenever they came in for a visit.

Is it normal that her boobs are already leaking milk?

When will they know for sure she’s in labor?

Do they need to wait until her waters break or until the contractions start before coming in?

How painful will the birth be for her?

Was there anything he could do to ease it?

Fingers interlocked and propped up on her bump, Xilä relaxed as best as possible while her husband went on and on with question after question.

Midway through their visit, he handed her a leaf wrapped snack that appeared from nowhere- some thinly sliced nectar coated meat placed between two sari cakes with mashed teylu and diced shrooms. Not the most appetizing thing to anyone else, but it was all she livid off of for the past week.

Xilä smiled at her husband’s attentiveness and dug in without needing to be told.

“And I know I’ve asked already, but are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for her during the birth?”

“Your role is to support her. The moment is all about her… and then all about her and the baby. She needs calm. You soothe and encourage her through it all. That’s it. If you can’t do that then you stay outside the birth room… Now, any other questions?”

“Yes. What-”

This boy! Mo’at huffed and shot Xilä a half amused, half frustrated expression. “Are you sure you want him to stay during the birth?”

“What do you mean? Of course I’m-”

“I’m not asking you, ‘Teyam… Xilä?”

“I wouldn’t want him anywhere else,” she smiled.

They’d tried almost everything.

But no amount of tea, or broth, or walks or baths did anything to nudge their little Sprout out of her.

She was too uncomfortable for sex, so only when nothing else on the list worked and she was just about at her wits end, did she finally decide to give lovemaking a go.

“You’ll have to do all the work. I’m not moving a muscle,” she groaned.

“We don’t have to do this, you know.”

Xilä could cry. “Well we’re going to have to! I want the baby out already, ‘Teyam! I’m so uncomfortable. My skin feels stretched to its limit, my boobs feel like they’re about to explode. And there are parts of me that hurt, that I didn’t even know could hurt like this! I don’t want to do this anymore. Please- just please do something! And why are you standing so fucking far away?!”

Shit! “Alright hey, hey. I’m here, baby.” He climbed into their hammock beside her, sensing a mental breakdown. “Sweetheart-”

“This is not sex,” she frowned when he cuddled her into his arms.

He tried not to smile. “Let’s take a breather first, yeah?”

She nodded and blew out a gush of air. “I’m sor-”

“Stop,” he whispered against her lips. “Just relax, sweetheart.”

He hummed the little tune he’d started singing to Sprout whenever he got too rowdy while his large palm soothingly ran over the curve of her belly. He prepared her with tiny kisses wherever he could reach from his position and sent silent prayers to Eywa to ease her discomfort.

“‘Teyam.”

“Xi.”

“I have to pee… again.”

He kissed her forehead. “Okay. Let’s go.”

After helping her to her feet, they probably only made it a couple steps before Xilä stopped with a gasp. A gush of liquid escaped her- it coated her inner thighs and rolled over her calves and ankles as it fell to the floor.

“Was that-”

“My waters broke,” she said, staring dumbstruck at the puddle at her feet.

The room was too crowded.

Neteyam was itching to throw them all out and with every passing second, every glance towards anyone who wasn’t his wife, his patience grew thinner.

They were nearing the fifth hour since Xilä’s waters broke. Her contractions were slowly growing more frequent now, and it was killing him every time he saw another wave of pain hit her.

Seated between his raised thighs, he felt her body tense up again. She moaned through gritted teeth and desperately squeezed his forearms while the pain consumed her for a couple seconds too long for him, before her shoulders slumped and head fell backwards as she panted.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered against her temple.

She gave a shaky laugh in response.

“Do you want me to take over, ‘Teyam? You can go stretch your legs for a bit and-”

“No.” He winced at his tone and shot his mother-in-law an apologetic half smile. “Sorry. But no, I’m good, Sal. I’m not going anywhere.”

Five minutes later, his mother came and asked the same damn question.

Ten minutes after that, D’avi offered to sing Xilä a “calming song” she thought would help sooth her.

Neteyam knew it was their custom to have a “village” present for a birth… but this? This was too much.

Why couldn’t they wait outside with the men- as well as the shocking mass of clan members who’d shown up to give their support?

That damn song made him reach his limit.

The singing, combined with the not so soft chatter from Leati’ and Kah’lee seated in the corner of the tent, Sal and Neytiri’s bustling around the small private quarters Mo’at had set up for them as they made arrangements and Kiri and Mo’at’s ingredient tinkering- he’d had enough.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“How mad at me would you be if I kicked them all out?”

Her head moved against his shoulder.

“What? Who?”

Even with sweat slicked hair and heated flushed cheeks, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“All of them? Except grandmother of course.”

Xi turned and took in the room’s activities. Her stifled anxiety quickened so she quickly glanced away again.

“You can say no.”

“Honestly? It’s crowded. I won’t be upset if you ask them to leave,” she admitted. “I love them all and I’m glad they’re here to support us… but it’s just…”

“Overwhelming right?”

She nodded, feeling a wave of guilt consume her.

Reading her all too well, he brushed her jaw with his thumb. “There’s nothing to feel bad- or be sorry about. They’ll understand.”

Xi internally debated asking D’avi to stay. But if she was being honest with herself, she wanted this moment to be between her and mate.

“Wait”- she stopped him before he could move- “do it nicely, okay? I don’t want any of them to think they’re a problem.”

He kissed her neck and promised to be nice about kicking out everyone before he got up.

Sal looked ready to put up a fight with him but with one glance at her daughter who Mo’at was helping through another contraction, she relented.

The women understood- thankfully.

Both mothers showered Xilä with kisses before they left and assured they’d be a call away and just in the next room giving up prayers of their own.

In the quiet dim space, Mo’at’s chats shifted in waves of highs and lows. Xilä’s wails however, overshadowed them.

“No more. No I can’t. I CAN’T do thi-” Xilä broke off into another cry that Neteyam helplessly tried to sooth.

“Xilä, breathe.” Mo’at patted her thigh and waved another round of spiced smoke from a lit herb bundle.

“‘Teyam,” she whimpered through never-ending tears, breathing heavily in pants she fought to control.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He brushed away the stubborn strands of hair that kept getting stuck to her forehead. “You’re doing so good. Almost there, baby.”

Her chin wobbled and she licked her chapped lips.

“Tell me what to do for you. What can I do?” We wished he had the power to take away her pain.

“Tell me a story?”

He couldn’t help the breathy chuckle that escaped him. It had been a while since she’d asked for one of those. Lips to her temple, he tasted salt. “What kind, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. Any? I just need to hear your voice. Please?”

“Okay, I got you,” he soothed. “I’ll tell you about the one that changed my life, yeah?”

Her head fell forward when another contraction rolled in- back arching away from him. Her fingers bit into the flesh of his thighs that bracketed her own. His palms ran over her sweat slick skin- shoulders, arms and the backs of her hands whilst soft cooed words fell from his lips.

Only when it was over and she sagged against him- fatigue dripping heavily with another plea for him to talk, did he start his story.

“It all started on what I thought was a random day of the worst year of my life. Nothing was going right and so much was weighing heavily on me. I decided I needed to get away for a couple day, so I went on a solo hunting trip to blow off some steam.”

He ducked to check on her. Her eyelids half closed while she stifled a whimper.

“I caught nothing though, couldn’t focus- I kept missing my shots. On my last day, after catching nothing again, I was just about to head back home when a woodspirit distracted me. And then I heard a sudden scream- a gut wrenching and skin chilling one at that. So I followed it and I found this odd little cloaked thing running from a nantang. They tried to climb a tree to escape, but they slipped, and fell.”

Xilä’s heart thudded in her eardrums… She knew this story.

“Anyway, after I took care of the beast, I approached the hooded and masked stranger. They blinked up at me for a second, with- with the most incredible eyes I’d ever seen, before they blacked out. And when I pulled the mask away”- he made an approving pleased sound- “the stranger? Prettiest thing I’d ever laid my eyes on.”

Mo’at’s chants grew quieter as she continued to waft smoke in Xi’s direction- it helped her calm somewhat.

“Anyway, I didn’t know it at the time, but I made the best decision of my life by taking her home with me… After an order from my dad, I had no choice but to spend time with this gorgeous creature every day, and you know what?”

Xi’s eyes closed. “What?”

“It was pure torture,” he whispered in her ear, making her snicker with a moaned wince.

“So then what happened?”

Neteyam bent and nuzzled her cheek, palm coming to rest on her stomach. “So, then I fell in love with her… and by some miracle she loved me right back.”

“And then?”

“And then I claimed her as mine, and she claimed me as hers… can you believe that? She became my mate. Mine.”

Xi peered up at him- pure love and adoration shining through her pain stricken face. “And then?��

He wiped the tear rolling down her cheekbone. “No… and now… and forever.”

“Xilä,” Mo’at called. “It’s time to push.”

“‘Teyam… can’t-”

“Shhh. Come on baby, what am I always telling you? Hm? You’re strong- you can do anything.”

“It hurts,” she whimpered.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. Lean on me, sweetheart, I got you.”

Their baby came into the world with a hearty cry. Wails almost deafening but Neteyam laughed in glee- eyes prickling at the sight of the tiny wrinkly blue creature Mo’at placed on Xilä’s bare chest.

A boy. A son.

“Neteyam- oh ‘Teyam, look at him. He’s-” Xi grinned through her tears- pain forgotten, “he’s perfect.”

Neteyam couldn’t keep his eyes off of their little Sprout. “Holy shit.” He was here- their baby- their son.

Arms over Xi’s he gently cradled his baby’s head. “So much hair,” he marvelled.

“It’s dark like yours, handsome.” Xi couldn’t move her eyes away- too busy trying to absorb every single detail.

Index finger extended, Neteyam touched his son’s palm, and when his teeny tiny fingers closed over the digit, his heart melted.

Their son’s cries turned to whimpers as Xi soothed him and he looked almost annoyed as he blinked up at them through half opened eyes before they closed again.

“Hi precious, I’m your mama. Hi, aren’t you the sweetest.”

“I think he’s got your eyes, baby. I caught a flash of silver.”

Xi took a damp cloth from Mo’at and began to clean their son- removing away as much of the waxy type substance that coated his skin.

Mo’at eventually took over after ensuring Xi was taken care of. The elder handled their baby with expertise. He began to fuss while she checked him over- gums, tiny tail, pointed ears and queue.

The grandmother failed to hide her sniffle and misty eyes, voice soft in her whispered prayers to Eywa.

“He’s okay?” Neteyam was itching to have their baby back.

“Perfect. A healthy baby boy.” She handed the crying infant back to his mother and he instantly quieted. She gently cupped Xi’s cheek. “You were amazing, darling. Congratulations to you two.”

“Thank you, grandmother. For everything. Thank you.”

Little Sprout gave an unhappy coo, and like a natural, Xi arranged him in her arms and helped him find her nipple. It took a couple tries and whispered coaxing but the instant he latched, he was hungrily suckling.

Neteyam stared at the two of them, entranced and amazed- unaware when his grandmother snuck out to share the news with the rest of their family.

He kissed his wife’s temple, with whispered words of praise- telling her how proud he was of her. She met his lips with hers for a brief moment and with her own I love you’s.

After she shifted their baby to her other breast and he had his fill, she gently burped him, cooing a soft good job when he did.

“Ready to hold him, handsome?”

He nodded eagerly and shuffled out from behind Xilä, accepting hands comically larger in comparison to their infant.

Was it possible to love someone wholeheartedly after knowing them for less than an hour?

His mate was right, their son was perfect.

Nestled in the crook of his arms, their baby yawned, tiny fists clenched against his cheeks, knees drawn up against his tummy.

Neteyam’s heart could burst. Happiness consumed him.

“He looks just like you. Just like his daddy.”

The resemblance was startling, he thought. A mini him.

Xi peered at the second love of her life, head resting against her husband's bicep. “I don’t think any of the names we picked out suits him, and as much as I think it’s a cute nickname, I’m not calling our son Sprout.”

“You’re right… we’ll figure it out though.” He kissed the top of her head. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Do you ache?”

She nodded, fingers gently touching her son’s tiny toes, they twitched and Xi thought she’d just about burst into tears. “Yes, but I can bear it. I can’t believe our baby’s here with us now. I’m so happy, ‘Teyam, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Me too.”

Sprout shifted and made a soft noise in his sleep before settling- tail giving a slight flick against Neteyam’s hand. He truly couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

“Our families’ are going to go crazy, they’re gonna love him. They’re probably going mad over waiting so long as well,” he joked.

“Let them wait,” Xi sighed, the pad of her thumb tracing a delicately soft cheek. “Let’s just be together a little longer, yeah?”

Neteyam smiled in agreement. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

This chapter was soooo difficult to write & edit, I hope you all enjoyed it anyway!

First things first, yes, that was the last chapter- but WAIT. There will be a two-part epilogue. One- a slice of life after the birth of little Sprout and Two- a couple years after that.

PS. I still haven't settled 100% on a name for Sprout, so you can still send suggestions. Also, for girl names too (since they may or may not have another baby/babies in the epilogue).... (Who am I kidding, of course they will) LOL!

Okay, now cue the waterworks...

Thank you, THANK YOU to everyone of you who've followed me on this journey. Safe Haven is so special to me and I have enjoyed sharing it with you all.

Every read, every like, every comment, every suggestion and idea- just know I appreciate them all!

This community has been so welcoming and the response to a newbie writer like myself is profound.

As always, please share your thoughts :)

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maryaandmorevna · 1 month ago

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A Song of Swan and Dragons ch.3

ao3 link, ao3 ch.1

Summary:

Following Princess Rhaenyra as one of her ladies-in-waiting, Arianne Swann was woefully unprepared upon arriving at the Red Keep.

No scroll or tome could have captured the astounding amount of gossip that thrived within the Targaryen court. For a mere lady like her, it felt as though she had made a catastrophic blunder before even having the chance to place her pieces on the board.

Yet, if she allowed her heart to guide her—especially toward the man it had chosen—Arianne believed she could endure anything and emerge triumphant. Prince Jacaerys Velaryon would one day be king, and though her father often said that hope was a fool’s errand, she dared to dream she might one day be his queen.

If only his boor of an uncle would stop tormenting her.

tw: safe for now but will get dark later (includes character deaths and non-con/dub-con)

Tagging my lovely beta @kyonkyon69 and the person responsible for turning me into Aemond simp, who has developed the idea for this story with me @lacebvnny

Chapter 1

3. hāre

Charm me. Furiously. Torment me. In detail. - Hermann Hesse

"Lady Tarth." Aemond nodded, his irritation all but hidden under a pretense of genteel leveling his voice.

Willowy and quite tall, the older woman curtsied before bringing up her full goblet.

"I was enjoying dear Arianne talk about my famed ancestor," Lady Tarth continued, much to Aemond's chagrin. "She had questions only us living near Morne can answer."

Dear Arianne seemed to look everywhere but him.

He felt the muscles in his jaw tighten.

"How generous of you to indulge her," Aemond cut in, his tone as sharp as Blackfyre.

"Does Lady Swann not discern between fanciful tales and facts then, if she truly believes a dragon was slain with a sword?" His mouth bloomed into a veritable sneer once her gaze of polished malachite settled on him.

A twinkle of annoyance swirled through the evergreen depths of her eyes.

Lady Tarth scoffed at his words, which Aemond found rather insulting as his station was above hers. He shifted one of his legs forward and straightened up.

Although the older woman was truly imposing, his stature effortlessly eclipsed almost everyone's.

“Yes, I am aware that you Targaryens believe nothing can slay a dragon. Yet, poor Queen Rhaenys - Seven bless her soul – perished in Dorne-“

“Are you suggesting a knight could take a sword and slay a creature like Vhagar?” Aemond scowled indignantly, tired of always hearing about the stupid scorpion bolt and Dorne. It was an extraordinarily lucky shot.

Lady Tarth tensed with indignation but it was the little courtesan who spoke.

“Perhaps it was a smaller dragon? Not to mention...” Arianne lifted her chin. "Garin the Great's army did kill two dragons at Volon Therys."

Aemond stilled, momentarily robbed of the acrid retaliation he had already formulated in his head. Two heartbeats passed before his eye narrowed and he glanced down, studying Arianne Swann anew. How does she even know that?

He'd managed to keep his scornful grimace from faltering.

"With a combined strength of Chroyane, Sar Mell, Ny Sar, Ar Noy, and Ghoyan Drohe. Two hundred and fifty thousand men." The One-eyed Prince blustered, his thoughts in disarray.

Ladies were not schooled in the brutal histories of the Rhoynish Wars.

By the time he'd been lectured on Valyria's most enterprising of enemies after the Old Ghis, Helaena was whisked away - to focus on skills more suited for womankind. For a mere country bumpkin like Lady Swann, differentiating between Essos and Westeros on the map would've sufficed.

This was a fluke, surely, much like her prowess in cyvasse, because he'd already realized what lay beneath her pleasant facade - a vapid, grasping, and shameless courtesan. Saera's blood might have given her a prepossessing visage, but that was all she was.

"Not even that mattered in the long run because three hundred dragons destroyed his entire army." Aemond finished, his voice bleeding with derision.

Arianne merely blinked.

"That does not refute what I've said."

"The Perfect Knight is just a story." The retort spilled through his tight lips before he could stop it, betraying his irritation at her little diatribe about Volon Therys.

Lady Tarth, who had just finished her wine, offered Lady Swann a smile before turning to him.

"Have a pleasant evening, Prince. I am far too old to discuss this with a man who has lived through just one winter and two summers."

Arianne appeared as if she wished to float after the crone, to become her shadow or lady-in-waiting so that she could avoid him again. Some traces of manners seemed familiar to her because she dipped into a proper curtsy, even if her eyes pored over the assortments of cakes on the table.

"Prince Aemond..."

His temper flared immediately upon hearing her address him with a caustic bite to his name.

"Lady Swann...I had thought my dear nephew wouldn't let you fly around without him. Yet, here you are, discussing matters beyond your understanding." He leaned slightly forward, his pale eye boring into her.

"Hontī gerpi ēza iā Garino vējo?" (Do birds enjoy reading about Garin's doom?)

Arianne felt her nose scrunch at his insulting question. She turned to face him and crossed her arms.

"The symbol of my house is indeed a swan, but I would prefer not to be referred to as a bird. Considering I am a human being, even if only a woman." She afforded him a level, icy tone of her own.

Aemond blinked.

"And yes, I did enjoy reading the History of the Rhoynish Wars, Your Grace."

"Udrizi Valyrio ȳdrā?" (You understand Valyrian?) He rasped, his voice low.

The One-eyed Prince was so taken aback, that he forgot he was supposed to torment her for her various transgressions against his royal highness.

She shook her head.

"Issa se Daor," (Yes and no.) Arianne muttered, fidgeting with her long sleeves again. "My brother and I were educated on basic phrases...but Princess Rhaenyra let me study with her children when I arrived at Dragonstone...so I can understand some of it. I don't...speak it."

"Not a very satisfactory education, then." His taunt was almost a reflex.

Arianne bristled.

"You are aware it is a difficult language that takes years to master. Jac – I mean Prince Jacaerys has been teaching me as well."

Aemond clicked his tongue, observing the way her eyebrows drew together and her cheeks erupted with heat.

"Meri nadresy. Kostos iksā ao udrir zaldritos. Ao azh ydragon." (He is merely a bastard, he cannot teach you properly the language of dragons. You will never speak it.)

Arianne's eyelashes fluttered several times and she grabbed the honeycake if only to hide her face behind it. ' A bastard...could not teach? Dragon...dragon...language?'

"Your Grace speaks too fast for me." She grumbled with a hint of embarrassment before taking a small bite. She'd choke on that sweet before ever telling the self-important twat how ethereal he sounded, like a dragonlord of old - h ow she thought the language beautiful when spoken so perfectly.

"Clearly." Targaryen Prince snarled. "My nephew is as incompetent as I've thought and you are ill-suited for -"

"Your Grace, why are you again conversing with me when your dislike is clear and made known?"

Aemond's limbs locked.

Why was he?

I wrote you a note after we met and you didn't answer. - he'd hang himself before saying it. He'd perish from a bout of Shivers before giving her any leverage.

He shouldn't have written anything.

Not to a spoilt, ungrateful, witless - no,no, much as he wanted, he could not call her dimwitted. She bested Tyland in a game of tactics, and she seemed to read -

Aemond sensed the surge of something awful lap at his spine. He consciously flexed his fingers, as if to keep it at bay.

How could a bastard possess a paramour not only pretty but erudite as well? And of Valyrian blood!

No.

It was a fluke. She had to be as vacuous as the most unpalatable of Aegon's mistresses.

She'd glimpsed those pages by accident. It must've been so.

He frowned before speaking, "I wished to make one thing clear, Lady Swann. You are an insult to my family. Your grandmother was banished from here and for a good reason. If you think you'll wed Jacaerys Strong and be Queen-“

Aemond’s laugh was as cold as the Bay of Ice.

“ You are simpler than I thought. No one will ever accept you and him as rulers.”

And then he leaned down to whisper just loudly enough for her ears..

"Whatever flowery lies your bastard whoreson plied you with, make no mistake - you do not belong here."

She needed several moments to recover from the sheer impact of his vicious remark.

It was a grave offense - to call Rhaenyra's sons bastards and her a... word any noble lady refused to use. How could he pierce at all her worries - that she would never be good enough, that she'd never shake off Saera's shadow - with such ruthless precision. An arrow loosened hitting the bullseye.

Arianne took in Prince Aemond's cruelly beautiful face, not knowing how to react other than to keep still.

"You speak treasonously. And unkindly."

Aemond sneered.

"You are the only one who heard me. Now...you can try outing me, but who will believe your word over mine? Hmm?"

She bit her lower lip.

"No one," Arianne stared at her half-eaten cake, honey dripping from its edges.

"But it is no less treason."

Aemond let out a low, drawn-out hum, saturated with disdain.

He grabbed a goblet and drank - swallowing a proper mouthful of wine for the first time this night, knowing if he didn't stop before someone else heard him address his nephews as such he'd cause a commotion.

"I meant no offense, even if you don't believe me." Arianne turned her attention to the hall and the moving figures. The crowd had resumed dancing while they conversed about Prince Aemond's displeasure with her person.

Perhaps if she were to apologize for her lapse two nights ago, he'd leave her alone. Even if privately she'd always consider him the instigator - his insults came first.

The sharp crease between his pale brows deepened.

"With the earrings, I apologize...I forgot myself, it wasn’t supposed to be…" She shook her head.

"An affront."

The One-eyed Prince said nothing, his sole eye following the way her mouth formed words.

Arianne swallowed - was he not going to accept her apology? How inconsiderate!

Aemond’s lips curled into something sinister, as though the thought of her confession amused him.

“You think a few words of regret will make me forget your little performance?” he said, his tone laced with hemlock.

“You are mistaken, Lady Swann. I’m not so easily placated.”

Arianne swallowed, pins and needles nicking at her dry throat. She could not stomach the rest of the sweet she'd taken - had a honeycake ever tasted so bitter? Prince Aemond was such a malevolent boor that everything around him suffered from it.

"I was frightened-"

"So you threw pearls at me out of fear, hmm? Was it my nephew who instructed you on attacking your unarmed opponent?" Targaryen Prince cut her off, clasping his hands behind his back and circling the chair next to her. Arianne realized he had trapped her between himself and the table.

Did he intend to make her cry again and not let her escape? So everyone could see how pathetic she was? Mother help her!

"It would not be a surprise, my sister's children were always spoilt and favored." Aemond pored over her guarded expression, his tone dissolving into something softer.

Arianne had to crane her neck to see his face properly when he stood right in front of her. Almost inappropriately close for a stranger.

"Tis them who attacked me for claiming an unclaimed dragon." Aemond continued, unperturbed. "You prattled about Ser Galladon's honor earlier, do you find it honorable to attack one with four companions?"

She stared at him with wide eyes.

Aemond thought his heart might've dropped into his stomach, heavy as a stone.

How green they were, and those lashes, long, long, fluttering - He found himself unable to look away.

He swallowed.

"No...it is not honorable," Arianne muttered, a slight discomfort settling against her spine. It felt like a betrayal. Did Prince Aemond not attack Baela first? Was that not what Jace had told her? But what reason would he have to lie - to her of all people? A woman he scarcely knew and disliked.

Aemond was already on the verge of another retort when he heard her. Her voice was barely more than a murmur against the merriment of the crowd. A servant had placed another plate of candied fruit to Lady Arianne's right.

The corner of his eye crinkled.

"Careful, hontes. If they heard you championing my side..." the sardonic tilt of his voice made Arianne shudder.

She realized she would have to ask him directly to step aside if she wanted to escape. Not to mention, he was so much taller than her that he was obstructing her view of the hall.

"Why do you think the stories about Ser Galladon are ridiculous and untrue? A-and please stop naming me a bird." Arianne decided to move their conversation away from her friends. If he was attempting to pry information about them, he wouldn't be successful.

Perhaps, it might even lessen his clear anger with her previous actions. If Prince Aemond were to not forgive her...how was she to survive until her father arrived? Lord Swann would certifiably think her behavior unruly! Oh, what if he took her back to Stonehelm because of this...and forced her to marry pox-faced Lord Horpe as a punishment?

Facing the Stranger would be preferable!

She peered at the pale-haired Prince, his fervent, knife-like stare almost taking her over the vertiginous edge. At least he could not shame her attire this time, because her dark gown bared no skin save for her neck.

Only the embroidered sleeves and skirts - swan's feathers gleaming from tiny jewels sewn into the fabric - distinguished it as hers.

"Apart from the invincible sword that he refused to use?" Aemond's silvery eyebrow lifted to match the snide undertone of his question.

"There aren't enough accounts to even confirm his existence, and Morne was ruled by petty kings when storm kings waged a war against them. Do you not think they would have remembered they had a perfect knight with Maiden's favor in their ranks?"

Arianne pulled on her sleeve absentmindedly. "Well, that is just one theory. If he was a warrior from the age of heroes there wouldn't be much surviving other than tales."

"Then he wasn't a knight. Let me educate you -"

"I do know the Andals were first to introduce knighthood," Arianne interjected, slightly put off by the way he'd assumed she had such glaring holes in her theories. Did he believe himself the only one capable of opening a book!?

"I've read my histories. But Ser Galladon was a real person, that much is beyond discussion. Mayhaps, he was a great warrior whom people later dubbed a knight. I think they did it precisely because he wasn't using Just Maid against his opponents. He was fair."

She paused briefly, her fingers reaching for the goblet. "Decency, fairness, integrity...call it as you will, but only the truly great can wield fairness, for it calls for a sacrifice of pride and vengeance."

Aemond smirked incredulously.

"You think using your advantage against opponents is unfair?" His response was dripping with condescension. The slow, deliberate tilt of his head only emphasized his clear ridicule of opinions someone like her might hold. The court's newest darling. Bastard's supposed paramour. Citing Grand Maester Aethelmure to him!

"If an enemy army invades Westeros, wouldn't you want us to use our dragons? Or would you rather be slaughtered, fair as it may be?" Aemond cocked his eyebrow. Only a woman would find something so ludicrous honorable. What'd they know of war? Though he found himself enjoying their conversation, and that she was clearly an avid reader like himself.

A shudder of disquiet cascaded down his neck. He'd forgotten himself, much like he did when they played cyvasse.

She wasn’t merely recalling some passage memorized from the scroll — no, she had understood it. Used it.

It rattled his bones.

She was meant to be simple, clumsy, a blight —beautiful blight, yes, but in the shallow, ornamental way of a gilded bird. Saera's granddaughter ensnared droves of men mere days after arriving. She had Rhaenyra's favor, and her prowess in outsmarting an opponent with figurines fascinated many. That simpleton Jorlan Wylde thought she was delightful.

Aemond settled his countenance in a firm glower as if the severity of his expression could anchor him against the tide of something far more dangerous than disdain. A pull.

No.

Not him. He was a dragon, trueborn son of Old Valyria. The treacherous allure of Arianne Swann did not even move him. He was above this base fancy. He was above her and those like her.

"You're twisting my argument!" Arianne insisted with honest earnestness. "He wasn't fighting invading armies, he was fighting duels. Every account I found states he fought in duels, so using a sword given to him by the Maiden herself would've been an unfair advantage. Cyvasse is a great game precisely because both players have the same starting position."

"So great a game that you declined my offer to play again?!" Aemond snapped before being able to stop himself.

Seven fucking hells.

Now she'll think he wanted to play against her again. That he would want anything pertaining to her would make him seem weak. Weakness was unacceptable.

Arianne's eyelids fluttered in confusion.

"I didn't...realize there was an offer..." Her rasp did nothing to appease his ire. Aemond thought the perplexion painting her features was perfectly strikable if she were a man.

How long her eyelashes were, and her mouth provoked -

"I sent you a note," He managed to hiss through gritted teeth.

"I thought it was a threat." Arianne pursed her lips, the gesture sending a fresh wave of fury—and something far worse—coursing through him.

How fucking lovely, full, and heart-shaped and she hadn't ever been kissed. He should just -

His fingers twitched around his goblet.

"And you insulted me before that." The tone of her voice carried something sharp in it, as if daring him to deny it.

"I had thought letting you walk away after an attempt on my life, feeble as it might have been, was worth more than words."

Arianne balked.

He had to be jesting!

"Attempt on your life!?" She bemoaned, eyes ricocheting between his left and right. If anyone even heard them, she'd be cartered off into the dungeons.

Aemond grinned self-indulgently.

"That is how I see it."

She gasped in horror.

"I would never -" Arianne felt her hands bathing in cold sweat. "I just...You insulted me and...I lost my temper. Please do not even repeat it!"

"I had thought you were a lady." One-eyed prince continued, smiling despite himself. Perhaps Jorlan had been right - what delight to see her beleaguered, whimpering for his mercy and favor.

"Do you generally throw things at people when angered? Ñuhe zaldritoso anogar issa??" (Is it your dragon's blood?)

Arianne's forehead creased as she tried to translate his words. They must've been talking for a while as her throat turned dry.

She grabbed her goblet again and drank deeply, glaring at Aemond while she did so. His sole eye was focused on her with such intensity it made her legs weak. It dawned on her that his voracious gaze hadn't strayed from her for a moment.

Arianne glanced away, at the golden platters filled with fruit and tried to find them interesting.

Aemond observed her, wondering if she understood him. His attention drifted to her attire once more, now that she was distracted. It was tight around her bosom and he couldn't help it but to look. Aemond could punish himself later for it.

She was so goddamn soft and womanly. He could still imagine her in that white dress, with the tops of her perfect, pert tits -

He should make her his mistress.

Clad in nothing but myrish lace and jewels – emeralds, sapphires, rubies, he’d gift her all of them. He’d be more generous than whomever gave her this dress.

No one would know...he could.

It could help this dreadful fancy go away.

Aemond wondered how Aegon went about those things, as he not only sullied himself with whores and maids but court ladies as well. Should he just tell her he wanted her?

Absolutely not.

What humiliation!

To admit that he found himself thinking of her -

Not to mention it would be tedious to find her a husband who would stay at court so that she could warm his royal bed. Some old, fat minor lord he could intimidate.

So that he was the only one who fucked her. The children she'd give to her husband would be dragons, because he'd make it certain his seed took root -

Aemond cut his train of thought with cold disgust.

Bastards.

They'd be contemptible baseborns.

He wouldn't have bastard children.

"Oh," Arianne finally peered back at him. "Anogar is blood. Dragon's blood. You are insulting my grandmother again, are you?"

He shifted on his feet and inhaled, straightening his spine.

"I was merely asking a question. Besides, your grandmother was of pure Valyrian blood, despite...the choices she made." He offered, clasping his hands at his back again.

"You should be proud that you have dragon's blood, even if only a quarter."

Arianne shook her head.

"I am proud of my house. My grandmother abandoned my father when he was a babe, I'd rather not be proud of her."

"Your house? Even your great aunt?" Aemond's lips morphed into a foul grin.

He didn't know why was he questioning her, or hacking at her pride. What did he even want her to tell him? That he was right and so much better than her, with the right lineage, with no blemishes -

That she despised these whores and that she was a virtuous, Seven-fearing woman, a perfect daughter and pliable to be a perfect wife?

Aemond shook the rotting anger away, though it clung to him like brambles in his mind.

No, he thought, his keen stare dipping to her lips again, you might gallivant around the Keep with your bastard and have your pick of husbands, but I am your better.

He could practically taste the bitter triumph of the thought, yet the satisfaction was lacking. It should have been enough to declare it to himself and dismiss her entirely—but it wasn’t.

She is beautiful. Clearly educated beyond expectations of her lot. Of well-enough breeding. The admission slid into his mind like a thief in the night. It mattered little.

His future wife will be chosen for him, for an alliance, or for whatever his grandsire deemed necessary. There was no room for his preferences, no place for him to desire something as indulgent as beauty or intelligence or a spark of defiance that teased his loins.

He couldn't possibly daydream about a woman, even one with perfectly shaped hips as Arianne Swann's were.

"My great-aunt is a good person! She has developed a system to help the poor Lyseni children. She rules Lys as a queen would." She hissed indignantly.

"She is," Aemond managed to stop the word 'whore' from leaving his lips. "...a courtesan. Does your father know that you esteem her so highly?"

Arianne inclined her chin stubbornly. The Targaryen Prince found the expression coupled with her delicate features endearing.

"That does not concern you, Your Grace. If you haven't read about the war in the Stepstones, my great-aunt was captured and sold - she didn't choose to be a courtesan of her own will. From the dawn of time, it had been men who waged their wars and women and children suffer. If the gods switched our lots, so many tragedies could be avoided. "

So she was one of those , he thought, without much surprise at it. Wishing to trespass into men's domain of governance - like Queen Alysanne with her laws, like those dornish wenches, or like her abhhorent aunt, ruling Lys through her cunt.

Like his whore of an older sister , Aemond remembered morosely, assuming herself an heir when the King had trueborn sons. As if the Realm would accept a woman on the throne, when dominion over land was the prerogative of men. His mother had ruled in all but name, but that was out of necessity.

There was a certain insolence in the way Arianne carried herself - like she derived perverse pleasure from refusing all those lords who asked to dance with her, like her proximity to his whore-sister somehow made her better than her station implied.

"Men also protect women and children from evils that be." Aemond spat tonelessly. "But do go on, explain to me how the world would be better with women holding power. Hopefully, the men who court you do not listen to such rants, otherwise, my lady Swann, you'll remain an unmarried maiden until you die."

Her fingers curled into fists.

Jace did not hold her views against her. He'd let her be his equal, Arianne mused while frowning.

Prince Aemond was the most strikable man she ever had the misfortune to meet. She should pray for the poor woman born under the most rotten star - his future wife.

"Even Grandmaester Gawen writes how Queen Visenya was better at certain aspects of governance than King Ae-"

"Using my family's history against me, are you?" Aemond clicked his tongue in vexation.

He couldn't deny it anymore - she intrigued him. Was not even Gawen safe from her? One of his favourite accounts on The Conqueror's reign. She read. Not skimmed or parroted scraps overheard at court, but read.

"You said it yourself, through my grandmother, it is my family too. So please, stop interrupting me!"

"I already know what you were about to say," Aemond glanced at her lips. "We seem to read the same books."

His growing irritation coiled tightly around the bottom of his spine. He judged her a creature of basest charms and no wit, and yet he had even forgotten to eat while debating with her. How could a woman like her fancy a bastard?

The tips of his fingers were tingling.

"Well, you are quite rude," Arianne said, crossing her arms. "With all due respect, my Prince."

She bit her plump lower lip and Aemond felt an almost overwhelming urge to kiss her right then and there.

It would quiet her.

But he'd be the one yielding, ensnared like all those other fools.

He cleared his throat.

"You wished to murder the prince at his own court, and I am rude?"

"I did not!" Arianne professed with urgency. "Please stop saying that1 if someone hears you, I could be hanged!" She seemed to match pulling on her long sleeves with the spiraling tone of her voice - like a bird fluttering its wings nervously in flight.

"I apologize for hitting you...and throwing earrings at you. B-but you have called me...a bad word. Can't we just be even now?"

Aemond cocked his head and chuckled. They could be even when she properly occupied her place beneath him. When she surrendered like the lands did before Aegon the Conqueror, waving their white flags. He could wave her chemise for all of court to see that it was him who had enjoyed their darling. His whore-sister's bastard's face alone would be worth the scandal.

"No, we cannot."

"It is rude not to accept an apology. I do not wish to continue this conversation."

The moment she uttered those words, it dawned on Aemond that he didn't want to let her take leave. He wanted to converse with her, drink in more of her peculiar thoughts, and observe the way her lovely mouth shaped words.

Gods be cursed, what was wrong with him?

"Perhaps one of your suitors would defend you against...my bad words, lady Swann." He sneered, without the real bite to his words.

"If they dare..."

With great amusement, the long-haired Targaryen watched how her full bottom lip quivered in annoyance.

"What my suitors do is not a concern of yours, Your Grace," Her response was a veritable hiss.

"Certainly, you're not one of them, so it matters not."

"Because I have no desire to be," Aemond hissed back, frankly insulted that she stated it openly - as if she found him less than what she deserved. There was a twinge of disappointment creeping around his upper spine. Suitors, plural. Minor lords weren't a concern, but his nephew...

"If I only wished it so, your father would give me your hand tomorrow!"

"I wouldn't be so certain. He already has someone in mind for me." She flicked her hand dismissively at him.

Blood crashed against his temples, setting his veins on fire.

"Does he? And who is a more coveted match than a Targaryen dragonlord?" Aemond snarled on an impulse. It passed through him as a bolt of lightning – a reflex at a perceived insult. Arianne's eyes widened, the inhale of breath sharp and burning.

"As I've said," She muttered. "It does not concern you."

The One-eyed prince pressed his lips tightly together and stretched his fingers to appease his temper. She was right, but he found it hard to pretend he didn't want to know - despite having an inkling it was his Strong nephew. Bastard as he was, Jacaerys was still the supposed heir to the Iron Throne once that old whore inherits it.

She dared to wave her hand like that at him! If Arianne Swann were a man, she'd have found herself lacking that same hand. Ought he bring her to tears again?

"I merely wanted to know if he is as brave as Ser Galladon of Morne." Aemond lied easily enough. The little line appearing between Arianne's brows as she drew them together told him enough.

"Ser Galladon is a legendary knight…" She sighed and glanced towards the crowd gathered in the middle of the hall.

"Do you enjoy tormenting me? Is that why you returned my earrings, so you can hold it over my head?"

Yes.

Clever girl.

"It was the proper thing to do," He almost laughed at the feigned propriety in his voice. “After I no longer feared for my life.”

With the way her doe eyes glittered, Aemond mused if he truly might make her cry again. He wasn't even doing anything to her. And he wanted to do so much, starting with tasting her pretty, pink lips.

They were now set in a worried frown.

“Why would I even attempt something like that?” Arianne stomped her foot, unladylike. She’d had quite enough of his insidious accusations. To think she’d ever dare it! Not only was it a sin and a crime, Aemond was her kin. A distant cousin, yes, but the curse of kinslaying would still fall upon her.

“They were ready to toast to you, a cyvasse champion…You must hate how I’ve snatched it away.” He mused. Her face seemed to gain an entertaining shade of valyrian firebloom when she was rattled.

“I do not care so much about winning,” She muttered with a significant effort to not feel it was a lie. A low hum slid through Aemond’s lips when he parted them.

“Here I thought you spend your days playing cyvasse, lady Swann.”

“I do not,” Arianne snapped. “Unlike the princeling, I have duties to attend to.”

“The princeling at least knows how to dance without making a fool of himself."

Flabbergasted, Arianne ran her eyes over his face, over the epicurean grin raising the corner of his mouth up.

He'd seen her trip.

This hateful, hateful man.

“The princeling…ought to read a certain scroll on proper manners and gallantry. With respect, Your Grace.” The undertone of her voice was brimming with liquid fury she had to constrain. It amused Aemond to no end. He had an inkling to pinch her rosy cheek to see if her skin could redden further.

“I do wonder what scrolls keep your interest, lady Arianne. A children’s story about Galladon of Morne, or perhaps doltish, women’s fairy tales such as Jonquil and Florian?” He taunted, though already too aware of the breadth of her readings. Much alike his.

She took a sip from her goblet.

"I am reading The Fires of the Freehold now. Have you read it?" Arianne firmly decided to not give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait. The tale of Jonquil and Florian was indeed one of her favorites, but what would a callous, heartless boor appreciate about romance?

"Of course," Something imperceptible danced in Aemond's voice. "But all known copies, all six of them, are here or the Citadel. How did you get your pretty hands on the tome?"

"Well, I...", She started, realizing her own stupidity at the same time she realized he'd called her hands pretty. "I asked to borrow a copy from the Royal Library."

Aemond's pale eye narrowed in suspicion.

"You're not a royal, so you couldn't have."

"Well, Jace had gotten it for me,” Arianne confessed, waving her hands frantically.

”I will return it! As soon as I finish it. I would never harm a book!"

Much as he wanted to chastise her for it, Aemond had stolen the only other copy from the library for himself. It was safe and cared for in his chambers.

"How far into it are you? It's...quite heavy for someone who does not read High Valyrian well." He was genuinely curious, though a spark of something darker ignited within him - a strange thrill was now coursing through his vessels at the thought of her engrossed in his ancestors' history. Not his, theirs, The One-eyed Prince reminded himself. She was of Valyria as well.

"Siege of Norvos, ah- " Arianne smiled, elated to share her excitement with someone - even if that someone happened to be Jace's cantankerous uncle. She couldn't help herself any more than a moth could help flying into a flame.

"I intend to ask Jace to translate it… well, I wouldn’t wish to be a bother, and…I've been stuck on this one passage because the sentences are so long but, it is so enthralling - the siege, a hundred dragons descending upon Qarlon to defend the city! So many dragonlords! It makes...it almost makes you feel sorry for his army. From what I discerned, it was the first blunder he committed, and also his last. But how was Quarlon to know Valyria would aid Norvoshi! They'd closed the river on him -"

The audible inhale of breath she took almost broke the silver-haired Prince out of his trance.

He shifted his weight, his hand brushing against the leathery hilt of his dagger as if it could tether him to the polished marble beneath his boots.

But Arianne's voice drew him back in, her hands trembling slightly as she spoke, gesturing here and there, a physical rhythm to match her words. And how her lips curled into a smile — Stranger, had he ever seen something so tantalizing—so unguarded, so genuine, it caught him like an arrow to the throat.

It lit her face with flames so arresting, Aemond could scarcely follow her soliloquy.

And Siege of Norvos was his favorite part.

"Well, what other choice was there for him but to besiege the city, a reliable water source is essential in a campaign...and then I couldn't really find what vēzos rhaeshisar meant when Valyrian dragonlords appeared above Norvos to defend-"

Arianne faltered, suddenly aware of the torrent of words spilling from her lips. Her eyes darted to Aemond.

His gaze was fixed so intently on her that she concluded he wanted to see through her. Blood rushed to her cheeks. She had been blabbering—again. How many times had her septa chastised her for it - it was unladylike! Rude!

"I apologize," she added sheepishly, her fingers brushing her braid. "It's just that I couldn't stop reading until morning."

One-eyed prince swallowed, his heart beating uncomfortably. She was so infuriatingly lovely. More so when she wasn't glaring at him.

He could not think.

Aemond profaned several Valyrian deities for mucking his proficiency - he knew what vēzos rhaeshisar, an army commander meant. What was the title they used to refer to him?

Much as he itched to neatly skim through the vast dictionary in his mind, all he could focus on was her - The way her heart-shaped lips parted with each word, the delicate tilt of her head.

A delight.

His breath burned as it traveled through his lungs, his body mutinying against his better judgment - leaning just enough to feel the warmth of her presence more keenly. He couldn’t tear his gaze away; he didn’t want to.

Seven hells.

This is absurd.

He could not allow this.

Aemond's gaze darkened as he became aware of his heart pounding like the drum of a war march.

He wanted her.

The air grew dense, and his body ached, responding to her in a way he could not control. It was maddening. He couldn't allow it. Was the bastard's courtesan doing it on purpose? Was she even aware of the effect she was having on him?

"I could translate it for you if you'd like, my Lady." Aemond's throat formed words without his consent. He succeeded in preventing himself from inviting her to his chambers now - he'd translate all the Valyrian she wanted, he'd speak such filth in her ear using the language of dragons and then he'd kiss and taste her quivering cunt.

He'd teach her to pronounce certain words properly so that when he buried himself in her warmth, she could keen and cry out how she was his to tarnish and enjoy.

He'd find out if her cunt was as pretty as she was, if it was tight and silken and – what was the word those dolts used - magical. He might even tell Aegon about it – watch his imbecilic brother go into shock.

He'd ruin her as thoroughly as Valyria ruined Lorath.

Arianne only stared at him with a girlish smile decorating her face, unaware of how deep his depravity went. How this sudden lust clouded his judgment and how he needed to be rid of it.

"You would truly transla-"

"Arianne!"

She almost jumped and hit herself against the table at Rhaena's voice.

Peeling her eyes away from Aemond, Arianne found her royal friend waving at her, with Jace and Luke in tow.

"What are you doing, Arianne? Come, we'll dance together." Jace noticed his uncle and eyed him with palpable confusion. How much time had it passed? She had been talking to Aemond all night.

"Ah, excuse me, Your Grace," She gave him an apologetic smile. "They wish to kill me with dancing."

Aemond did not move, his muscles locked tightly together. He did not want to let her go, and found the thought terrifying. It was a weakness and it was pathetic, and clearly her suitor was his bastard nephew. It seemed as if he regained some clarity at last, because he remembered vezos rhaenishar was a general.

"Dance with me?" He unclasped his hands and offered his right to her, palm up, open, inviting. Arianne felt the bewilderment bubble up in her belly - she beheld him completely flummoxed.

"I...I already promised -"

"Dance with me," Aemond repeated levelly, shoving his impatience violently into the bottom of his spine.

"and I'll consider us even."

Even. He'll no longer torment me over hitting him. - Arianne glanced at Rhaena who furrowed her pretty, ivory eyebrows. Hadn't she heard a rumor that Aemond Targaryen disdained frivolity, that he saw dancing as beneath him unless demanded by ceremony?

It would be scandalous if she refused him when he openly asked, wouldn't it? But it would be exponentially worse if she were to trip and tumble to the floor, taking him with her.

"I...I would rather try my luck with cyvasse," She murmured, wiping her hands down her sable skirts. "Perhaps Your Grace would offer me a rematch-"

"You refuse me?!" The thrum of Aemond's voice cut like a dagger.

Arianne flinched, resisting the urge to seek refuge with her royal companions.

"No, I - it's just that I..." She stammered, biting the inside of her cheek. 'Mother Above, grant me mercy. And Warrior, grant me courage. And please just not let me stumble this one time...I don't want to die!'

Nodding, Arianne consciously ignored the way something searing and lethal brimmed in his single eye - as if promising her retribution should the next words to leave her lips displease him.

"Alright, b-but I am...not a very good dancer, Your Grace." She placed her hand in his, a sudden rush of something traveling up her arm.

Aemond's skin was cool to the touch and his hand was large - long, slender fingers closing over hers in a secure grasp. Perhaps he knew how cold he was for his thumb began circling over her knuckles, so gently it made her blush.

"Pasagon vūs, nyke rūal vestri ropagon." (Trust me, I will not allow you to fall.) He led her between the moving figures while Arianne tried to see her friends' reactions. Jace wouldn't really be mad at her, would he? Aemond was seemingly cordial with her tonight and she didn't want to insult him. He would be her uncle-in-law if gods were to will it. Rhaena might be less forgiving but it was too late to think on it now.

Aemond had easier ways of ending her life than dancing.

She wouldn't trust him, but at least she believed he wouldn't harm her in front of the courtiers, the guards, and his whole family.

Aemond's skin was tingling. Her hand fit easily in his, and as his fingertips slid over her soft skin, h e noticed she was so pleasantly warm.

Distracting and completely preposterous musings attempted to invade his mind – how it would be most useful to share a bed with Lady Swann. He’d coil around her heat and never suffer the stab of chill again.

Would she share her bed with him?

The rumors about her proclivities were baseless and clearly as untrue as the whore of Dragonstone claiming Laenor Velaryon fathered her children.

She tensed and flushed - swathes of crimson erupting over her cheeks - when he touched her. She took his hand so unsurely, not like a prolific courtesan who welcomed bastard lovers into her bed.

Which mayhaps meant she really was telling the truth about her virtue.

Which meant she was for him to enjoy alone.

They stopped and she cast a nervous glance at the shoes protruding under her long, dark gown as if they were not her own.

He offered up his other hand, as the dance required, and this time Arianne grabbed him quickly.

"Relax, it is merely a dance, not a battle." He advised softly. The One-eyed Prince could afford to be accommodating now that she truly was holding onto his hand and depending on his whims.

Jacaerys Strong was glaring at them so obviously that Aemond had to make a conscious effort not to laugh. Was he a craven little bastard, if he hadn't kissed her yet?

"Easy enough for you to say, Prince Aemond. I...well, it is of no matter." Arianne waited for the music to start, feeling increasingly aware of his closeness.

He scared her, and if she fell down and embarrassed him, she was sure he would toss her to the gallows.

The music started and Aemond decided he'd just lead her gently through the moves. Arianne followed him well enough, not placing a foot out of place so clearly she knew the correct steps.

Yet, she was rather stiff and nervous - he could feel her delicate pulse beneath his touch, ticking erratically.

It was even more obvious when their hands parted and they side-stepped each other. Arianne was so completely absorbed in her own movement that she almost collided with him - a rather humiliating spectacle he avoided by adjusting his turn to match hers too wide one.

Her breath hitched as she realized her misstep, her fingers tightening around his forearm for the next twirl. Aemond could practically taste her embarrassment at the tip of his tongue.

"Jurnegon vūs,” (Look at me.) He commanded, flexing underneath her fingertips.

“Not at your feet." He added, softer now, his lips inches away from Arianne's ear when their turn brought them closer. She blanched.

He was jesting, wasn't he? She couldn't stare back at him when his eye on her was so intense it made her stomach gallop and wallop.

Why would he stare at her like that?

Like when they met -

Like -

He twirled her around and Arianne was in awe of herself when she hadn't stumbled. Aemond was so sturdy - yet light, on his feet - and his hand a steady anchor that ensured she wouldn’t fall, even if she tried—unless, of course, he willed it.

"Vāedan?" (ready?) Aemond asked, his pale eyebrow quirking.

They had to change hands mid-step.

"Daor," (No.) she protested, much to his amusement.

With effortless poise, Aemond seized her other wrist and adjusted their stance without hesitation.

Finally, as her ordeal was over, Arianne took a steadying breath and allowed him to lift her - completely modestly, of course - by the waist and twirl her around a final time.

Seven, he did it as if she weighed nothing!

Oh, it's over.

Arianne blinked several times to confirm she was now on solid ground.

"Did your ladyship survive?" Aemond's lips crooked at her astonishment.

One of the smaller curls fell out of her tightly bound braids, cascading softly to rest against the side of her neck. It appeared so playful, so inviting, and he fought the sudden urge to reach out and trace its curve.

He would sooner disembowel himself with a rusty sword than admit how perfectly her svelte waist fit within his grasp.

How he could hold her as tightly as a lover should while she rode him, his cock sheathed inside her. She'd take him so well, his courtesan donned in the finest Myrish lace and jewels.

With unbound, wild hair and constantly bruised lips from how often he would require a taste.

"Do not jest with me," Arianne lightly slapped his arm when he had finally released her.

Aemond glanced at her hand before reaching for it, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin. At this moment, after the dance, no one would think it inappropriate.

"You dance so well, Your Grace." Arianne swallowed hard, her pulse drumming against her temples, flapping like a hummingbird's wings - and managed to meet his gaze for a fraction of a moment before her eyes darted away, seeking refuge in the crowd. Why was he still holding her hand?

"Come." the Targaryen Prince placed his other hand on top of hers. "If we stay here, I'll think you want me to dance with you again."

Arianne pouted.

"You asked me! And we're even now."

He held his grin at bay - how swiftly her boldness returned when the music stopped, and it was no longer a matter of dancing, but of words.

"Not if I translate you the passage." He hummed, a secretive lilt to his voice. Aemond was fairly certain he knew which one she meant if it pertained to the siege of Norvos and the later scouring of the Lorathi islands.

"Lorath rūsīr perzys, kīrīr ūbra zaldryos zaltan jerdar -" (Lorath was bathed in fire, as three hundred dragons burned its skies.) Aemond drank in her awed gaze, his fingers stroking wistfully over her knuckles.

"It is an older form of High Valyrian, a hymn for the scouring of Lorath. Unless you visit the Citadel or somehow talk to my dying father and King, you won't be able to understand it properly."

"But you would translate it for me?" Arianne blurted, completely forgetting she was supposed to be wary of Prince Aemond – he was a twat and a rude, prejudiced man regardless and yet - He spoke the language with such effortless fluency that one could almost believe he was a traveler from the Valyria of Old. Not just that, but the way he carried himself, the way he looked - with a chiseled jawline, nose and cheekbones carved from marble, and those lips, ever so slightly curled with disdain.

Even compared to all his siblings, he seemed more...more...hen zaldrīzes. (...belonging to dragons.)

"Your Grace." She added quickly, observing the fair silver of his tresses. The blood of the ancient Valyrian lords ran thick in his veins, far beyond the Targaryen name alone.

Aemond leaned in conspiratorially, and Arianne felt her breath lodge somewhere underneath her throat. His single eye—sharp as tempered steel – lingered on her face.

"We could take a walk along the inner courtyards and I’ll translate it now. All this merriment is growing rather tedious.”

Did he know he was still holding her hand? His other one drifted to the hilt of his dagger, his thumb tracing the leather grip in absent circles.

Arianne sensed her palm turning clammy inside his.

“Translate what? We don’t have the text here.” She uttered, the booming voice of her septa clanking at the back of her mind instantly. ' "The text? A properly raised lady would immediately refuse to go anywhere with a man her parents do not know! Even if the inner courtyards are lit and chaperoned, it is still unseemly to leave the feast with that man. Young lady, you will sew until you learn!" '

“My memory serves me well.” Aemond retorted in a measured cadence. He’d never confess he’d read that particular scroll a dozen times.

Her septa would be furious, but Arianne was considering it. She lowered her chin, noticing the stark contrast of their hands. Hers were small and rather unremarkable, but his – broad palms with long, tapered fingers held her rather firmly.

Aemond’s hands were far from soft with calloused pads, and faint scars – A warrior’s hands and yet there was an elegance in the way they moved—deliberate, assured, almost mesmerizing.

"Arianne!"

She blinked, the sound of her own name grabbing her roughly by the neck and forcing her to abandon Aemond’s fervent stare.

The One-eyed prince leaned back.

It wasn't his cousin this time who interrupted them, it was his bastard nephew. Aemond beheld him with venomous irritation.

"Jace, there you are." He loathed the cheerful tilt of her voice when she addressed Jacaerys Strong. He loathed even more the improper way they seemed to converse with each other.

"I think you have suffered my sullen uncle long enough." The plain-featured bastard had the nerve to glare back at him.

"Besides, you promised me all dances tonight." He pouted like some child. Surely, Aemond thought, Arianne couldn't be considering this boy as her husband. Although Jacaerys was less than two years younger than him, he was coddled and doted upon, and it made him weak in the long-haired Targaryen's eye.

The feathers etched upon her sleeves glinted when Arianne moved to hide her lower face.

"It was just one dance, Jace. Do not be mad!"

Aemond's eye narrowed, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around her wrist.

Mad?!

What right did the bastard have to lay any claim over her? His mind drowned in indignation and something darker that he refused to acknowledge.

Aemond cocked his head, refusing to release Arianne's dainty hand, even when he felt her attempt to pull away, twitching within his grasp.

"Gīda mandia tresy, iksis ziry aōhon syt ao naejot gaomagon zirȳla hae iā zaldrīzes āeksion." - (Calm down, nephew. Is she yours for you to guard her like a jealous dragon his gold?)

She in question glanced back at him, trying to comprehend his quick retort. His nephew understood easily enough, from the frown erupting across his face.

"Issa." (Yes.) Jacaerys Velaryon spat, helping morph Aemond's features into a nefarious glower.

"Aderi, ziry kosta nyke vestri." (She will be my betrothed, soon.)

So he was her suitor - which Aemond struggled to make sense of. Wouldn't his bitch sister need the Velaryons on her side? And would his uncle, ever ambitious, let his wife's heir marry someone who wasn't his blood? Certainly, the marcher lord’s only daughter, Targaryen princess’ granddaughter, was never a poor choice, but did Rhaenyra think one bastard wed to Laena’s daughter was enough? When that bastard wasn’t even the one who would end up on the Iron Throne?

"Jace!" Arianne chastised him, as she understood the last bits of their exchange. " W-what are you talking about?" Her vision swam.

Was he serious? Her pulse quickened into a steady, violent staccato of a blood rush. Hadn’t he known she held him dear to her heart? He couldn’t jest with her in such a way! Could this mean Jace wanted her hand? Did Princess Rhaenyra approve of it?

Aemond's not-quite-princely snort cut through her rumination.

The One-eyed Prince tilted his head haughtily, his long fingers drumming against the bottom of Arianne's palm.

"The Lady seems unaware of your claim?"

It was Jace whose features now took on a visage of offense.

" 'Tis none of your concern, uncle." He blustered, his dark, turbulent gaze finding Arianne. She went rigid - her eyes wide and terrified as if suddenly she became aware of the crowd and the murmuring surrounding them,

“ Come, Arianne. Aemond hates dancing either way." Jacaerys Velaryon offered her his hand, beckoning her. His invitation fueled the bile picking at the One-eyed Prince's insides - had to forcefully still his muscles so as not to scoff and send him to the Stranger.

It was true enough that he hated dancing, as he did all the tiresome courtly stupidities, but it wasn’t the bastard’s place to assume as much.

Nor should he relinquish the woman to him.

It was enough that the Strong whelp felt entitled to the Targaryen throne.

Subconsciously, Aemond squeezed Lady Swann’s hand too harshly - her prepossessing green eyes immediately met his with confusion.

"It is her ladyship’s decision. " Aemond sneered, his bones sizzling with disagreement. It should be his prerogative. He was trueborn blood of the dragon – the king’s son, Vhagar’s rider, and if he desired so – the little courtesan should warm his bed.

Yet, Arianne Swann was nothing to him. To give voice to the budding desire to keep her hand in his and find out more about her secrets felt both a folly and a crackling fire. This passing fancy was his burden, and he shouldn't indulge it any longer.

Yet, when her countenance turned apologetic, it slashed at the edges of his resolve like valyrian steel. Aemond felt the dreadful rejection licking at his pride before she even spoke.

How dared she?!

He swallowed, measuring his breath.

"I should…I should go. I’ve taken enough of your time already." The faint tremor of her lips only made Aemond madder.

Jacaerys Strong appeared so smug, that the other Targaryen prince had to swallow the intrusive thoughts of pulling his dagger and slicing his bastard head clean off.

The warm skin between his palm and fingers moved and he debated whether to abandon his hold or to press upon her knuckles until her bones broke.

She hadn’t even kissed anyone.

Infuriating, deceiving little temptress -

Aemond’s blood was boiling and it crashed up his neck in a vehement thud until it reverberated inside his temples. She was fucking provoking him, staring at him with those wide, malachite eyes, her long eyelashes fluttering like some – some timid maiden. When in fact she was –

Of course, she was also a whore! Saera’s granddaughter and his whoresister’s lady-in-waiting.

The muscle in his cheek twitched.

Stranger take her!

He wasn't even sure what exactly that little whoreson was saying because he battled an overwhelming surge of rage that demanded he spill blood.

Aemond wanted to remove himself from there quickly, before he did something stupid like telling Prince Strong he could have Arianne only if he defeated him in a duel at the back of a dragon. Because he wanted to claim her for himself.

He wanted her. In the basest, most humanly disgusting way – he wanted to delve between her thighs and take her as a man does a woman. The thought was hideous enough, let alone to act on it.

He was above it.

He was above desiring a willful, left-footed, granddaughter of a blight among his grand ancestors. She didn’t even have a dragon. She’ll never be able to claim a dragon. Her Valyrian blood was already too diluted. She was nothing.

So when Arianne pulled her hand back this time, Aemond let her.

"I meant it, Your Grace. You are a wonderful dancer." She had enough fire in her to dare smile at him. After this little humiliating stunt. The honest mirth in her eyes would've sent shivers down his spine, had it not been for the fact that she led him on.

"And you were, as it happens, correct, Lady Swann. You truly are an awful dancer. Clumsy as Seven hells." Aemond hissed in her ear and lingered only a few moments longer - enough to see the delight vanish from her green eyes and her smile turn into a dejected frown.

"A tavern wench has more grace than your ladyship. Even a bastard," he added pointedly, venomously. "- should see that."

Her jade irises shimmered, the edge of her bottom lid brimming with tears.

He'd hurt her.

Good.

Stranger take him, rather , she was even beautiful when on the verge of crying with those dark lashes battering to keep tears at bay. The desire to whisk her away with him only infuriated him more.

To seven hells with you, Arianne Swann.

"I apologize -"

Aemond scoffed and trudged away, his boots striking the ground like hammer blows. He would not stay to watch her bawl to her bastard bitchson.

He glanced at his family – he’d let his guard down, unforgivable – what if Daemon tried anything, what if his mother and his sister were hurt while he dallied with –

Aemond pressed his lips tightly together when he realized everything was fine and found his mother looking at him with worry etched between her brows.

Next.

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dragqueenstarscream · 2 months ago

Text

drag queen's monsterformers au masterpost

this post is gonna be a comprehensive list of all of the characters, settings, and ideas i have for my monsterformers au because it's been on my mind for about a month now. if i come up with any more major ideas, i'll rb this post and tack it on, but for now, this is the general gist of things.

something to note is that while this is primarily inspired by tfp, it's not a perfect one to one retelling. there will be major changes such as different backstories, my own personal ships, the ending, and characters from other continuities. just something to keep in mind.

setting

since this is a fantasy au, this will be set in a sort of faerûn/dnd style world, with any major locations (ie washington dc, russia, greece, or anywhere else that pops up in the show) to be rewritten to reflect the setting. as such, jasper, nevada is now a village on the edge of a broad kingdom, hidden within an arid mountain range. it's still called jasper, though, because come on. that already sounds like a fantasy name.

the characters

obviously, since this is a monster au, all of the robots are now mythical creatures. despite how wildly different they are from each other, they all share the same level of sapience, so characters like phoenix!ratchet and firbolg!bulkhead, despite one looking more animal and one looking more human, are mentally at the same level of sapience. the other major difference is that, rather than disguise themselves as vehicles, they hide as regular humans. where the voices of primus autobots) and the talons of unicron (decepticons) differ is that the voices typically disguise themselves as working class people to blend in better and learn more about how their new home works, while talons typically take on more upper class appearances (royalty, military authority, businessmen, aristocrats) in order to effectively infiltrate and influence this new world.

the voices of primus

optimus prime - a gargantuan firedrake (a dragon without the wings) and the last of the primes, ones who have spoken with primus himself. despite his massive size and strength, he's one of the most gentle of all monsters. like all dragons and their relatives, he has a tendency to hoard; his den is full of magical artifacts and ancient books he's unearthed or bartered for over centuries. as a human, he takes the form of an old librarian, both because he was an archivist back home, and because he enjoys the unrestricted access to as much information about humans as he can get his hands on.

ratchet - a cranky old phoenix whose feathers have gone mostly white with age and stress from war. he's the oldest of the voices by far, and is a couple hundred years away from his next rebirth. he may not be the largest monster, but those wings pack a punch, and he's not afraid to use his talons and beak on the battlefield. despite all of this, deep down, he has a gentleness to him, especially with the children and optimus. as a human, he's a doctor, because with how often the children get in trouble, he needs that extra knowledge on human anatomy.

bumblebee - a strong willed pegasus who enjoys spending time with humans the most out of all the voices. incredibly fast on land and on the wing, he loves to push himself to constantly get stronger for his team. he's also the monster most humans gravitate towards because winged horses are more approachable and familiar than, say, manticores or gryphons. he can't speak due to a nasty curse placed on him by megatron, so he whinnies and nickers like a regular horse. thankfully, the other voices understand him after knowing him for this long. as a human, he's a hired farmhand who puts his strength and speed to good use. he often helps out on raf's family farm and is able to keep a close eye on him this way. he communicates via sign language or writing in this form.

bulkhead - a massive firbolg with a heart of gold. giantfolk have an undeserved reputation for being stupid, but bulkhead is wise beyond his years; he just prefers to use his size and strength when fighting. talk to him long enough, though, and you'll see centuries of wisdom and experience shining in those big blue eyes. one of his favorite things is to use his might to protect and impress miko, whom he sees almost like a daughter. as a human, he's a construction worker, which allows him to do what he does best; build things and break things.

arcee - a sharpshooting manticore who takes no nonsense from anyone. manticores can fire venomous barbs from their tails, and arcee is especially gifted in this department, hitting her targets with alarming accuracy. that, combined with her wings, makes her a nightmare in battle. she may seem as prickly as a thornbush, but in reality, she cares deeply for everyone around her; she just has a hard time showing it without applying a liberal dose of snark. as a human, she works as a bartender at a pub, which is how she met jack. she initially viewed him as a troublemaker, but now is more of a mentor and has taken him under her wing. literally.

smokescreen - a proud and noble gryphon who's determined to prove himself. gryphons often come off as haughty, and smokescreen may appear to fit that bill, but in reality, he's just eager to make his idol proud. he... doesn't quite get that humans are, for the most part, afraid of monsters. why should they be afraid of him? he doesn't wanna hurt them! but he's getting the hang of it. as a human, he's an adventurer who longs to see more of the world he's found himself in.

wheeljack - a wisecracking wyvern and a menace to anyone who crosses his path. he may be smaller than other dragons, but he more than makes up for it with his speed, agility, toxic gas breath, and his ingenuity with crafting weapons. his hoard mainly comprises of weapons and supplies to make them. his favorite thing in the world (besides bulkhead) is anything that goes boom. as a human, he's a bit of a mad scientist, living on his own so he can perform his experiments in relative peace.

cliffjumper - a goofy minotaur who's able to bullshit his way out of any situation. unusually chatty for a minotaur, he loves to crack jokes and tease his fellow teammates. some find it annoying, but others, like arcee, find it endearing. behind the goofiness, cliffjumper is a calculating warrior able to make quick decisions on the fly - though that boldness often gets him into trouble. as a human, he's a farmhand like bumblebee and often works alongside him with more labor intensive jobs.

the talons of unicron

megatron - a dracolich whose lust for power has driven him down a terrible path. once a proud gladiator, centuries of practicing dark magic have corrupted his body past the point of no return, and his mind is following suit. he was mated to optimus back home, but that was a lifetime ago, and all megatron feels towards him now is loathing mixed with twisted desire, a sick mockery of love. as a human, he poses as lord of fortress nemesis whenever interacting with other human nobles. oddly, though, no one can ever find this mysterious fortress, as if its location is always changing...

starscream - a cunning harpy who's always trying to stay one step ahead of megatron. haughty and full of himself, starscream loves to flaunt his accomplishments and terrorize the sky in the heat of battle. deep down, though, he's trying to relive his glory days as lord of the skies from back home. he joined the talons to try and regain some of his old power, but after being megatron's whipping boy for so long, he's grown jaded and is now searching for a way out - even if it involves defecting to the voices. as a human, he's a commander, though he won't disclose his military achievements to other humans...

soundwave - a masked naga with a frighteningly accurate memory and a will to use it. silent as snow and with scales as dark as the night sky, soundwave has eyes all over fortress nemesis; nothing escapes his surveillance. strangely, whenever he talks, he parrots what others say in a perfect mimicry of their voice. he's also never taken his mask off; it's believed that only megatron has ever seen his true face and heard his real voice. even as a human, people don't really know what he is. most assume he's an assassin of some sort. he also keeps his falcon laserbeak as his familiar, making sure his control extends as far as she can fly.

shockwave - the battle damaged tiefling with a mile long sadism streak. calculating and cold, despite his infernal abilities, shockwave is a true terror strong enough to send shivers down the spines of even the strongest warriors. he may be blind in one eye, but the glare in his remaining eye can send even other talons running. not only is he physically imposing, he's also highly intelligent, using a combination of magic and science to create new warriors to fight for the talons. as a human, he's a businessman, using his know how to gather the supplies he needs for his experiments.

breakdown - the vampire bruiser who leaves no mercy. contrary to the usual slender, aristocratic vampires, breakdown is nothing short of a brute, using his raw strength and terrifying visage to strike fear into the hearts of his opponents. he drains the blood of those he kills in battle, which is how he got so strong to begin with. the only one who's truly well and safe from his wrath is a certain werewolf. as a human, he serves as a bodyguard for said certain someone.

knock out - the self obsessed werewolf who's unafraid to play dirty. despite being a fierce, savage predator, knock out prefers to spend his time at fortress nemesis, dissecting anyone megatron puts on his table. he also tends to be quite the hypocrite; he'll gladly tear someone apart in battle or on the operating table, but will then whine and complain that his fur is filthy. he'll snap his teeth at anyone who touches him, but then turn around and beg breakdown to rub his belly. as a human, he's a wealthy aristocrat who proudly indulges in human luxuries and flaunts his image; he's very "look, don't touch."

skyquake and dreadwing - twin gargoyles whose only loyalty is to each other. they joined the talons to ensure each other's safety, and with their combined physical strength, they quickly rose through the ranks and became formidable warriors. skyquake isn't able to use magic like most monsters, and thus, doesn't have a human form. as such, dreadwing uses his magic to protect his twin in battle, though it wears him down significantly. as a human, he's a mighty warrior with the battle scars to prove his worth.

this is about as far as i've come with character designs, though there's definitely gonna be more to come, as i have ideas for characters from other continuities, like tfa and g1. i'm pretty excited to start writing fics for this au and just play around and have fun!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

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Helping Hand 14

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, manipulation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stare at the wall. Your eyes are too dry to cry. The pain, the memory of the night before, the reality you find yourself trapped in, cannot bring the swell to surface. A blur moves along the edge of your sight and your eyes come into focus.

You watch Jonathan plant the lap desk over your thighs. He pauses to pet your head and kiss your forehead. You grit down and turn your attention back to the plaster.

“Can’t have you fussing over breakfast,” he purrs, “doctor’s orders that you relax.”

You don’t respond. He hums, disappointed, but doesn’t reproach you. You almost prefer your ex and his bluntness. At least he would tell you what you did.

You sit in the fog of painkillers and disbelief. It still doesn’t seem real. Jonathan. The refined businessman, the proper gentleman, entirely above you, and yet he’s entirely twisted. Last night, the way he touched you, the way he ignored your pain and used it against it, it’s not so different than every other man you’ve known.

It’s your own fault for believing there were decent ones left in this world. Or that they ever existed at all.

He returns and lays out a generous meal; orange juice and coffee to be certain you have whatever you like; crepes rolled and sprinkled with sugar and drizzled with syrup, berries glistening, yogurt and granola in a small cup on the side. It’s all perfect. Just like everything else in his life. Can’t he see that you are anything but?

“There you are, darling,” he proclaims as he backs up.

He stands and watches. His blue eyes no longer remind you of the summer sky, rather they are icy and cold. You look down and lift the cutlery.

“Thanks,” you murmur as he clears his throat.

You eat. Not because you’re hungry but to keep yourself from sinking any further into horror. You don’t taste it. If this was anywhere else, you might be in awe of the culinary precision and medley of flavours. You can hardly think through the drug-laced nightmare.

You finish and he takes away the tray and lap table. You lean back into the pillows and grown. There’s a new pang in your hip. It started when he had himself over you, rolling against you, your legs splayed beneath him.

You close your eyes and slump. You don’t hear him return. The world shifts as he moves you to lay on your back, removing a pillow to reposition you.

“Darling, how do you feel?” He brushes his knuckles against your cheek. “The doctor recommended a hot bath? How about it?” You groan and stay hidden under your eye lids. He bends and kisses your forehead before he stands again, “very well.”

You sense him back away but do not look. You've known this helplessness before. During your first marriage when you truly believed you were trapped with Andy forever. You can only hope Jonathan tires of you just the same, but what then? Starting over again with even less time.

You hear the distant splash of water on porcelain and wince. The jolt sends electricity down your spine. You groan and grimace in pain.

His footfalls mark his return. Your eyes open as he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed. He undresses you as you put up no resistance. What’s the use in it? It only hurts more.

He removes the sling gently before he strips away your other layers. When you're naked, you don't even have the strength to be ashamed. Maybe the stretch marks might scare him away.

He gently slips his arms beneath you. As he lifts you, you moan. He coos at you, hushing your pain. You lean into him with no other choice but to let him do what he wants. So very much like your first marriage.

He takes you into the bathroom and lowers you into basin. You can't help but be soothed by the warmth of the water as it laps down. The futility keeps you there.

He shifts, his shadow moving beyond your eyelids. It isn't until he touches you again, that you react. Your lashes flick up and you wince as tension strings up your muscles.

He gently slides his hand under your uninjured shoulder and sits you forward. He's naked, a striking realization that has you even more rigid. He angles in behind you, easily, all too smoothly, moving to sit against the porcelain as he brings you over him. Your eyes dart to the ceiling and stick there as he eases you back. You're horrified at the feeling of his flesh against yours. The heat is even more intense than the water.

He sighs as he embraces you from below, your head on his shoulder, and his hands crawl around your hips. Mortified, you keep him from touching your stomach. He stops but runs his hands in the other direction, tracing along your pelvis and kneading your thighs.

You reach for him again and he brushes you off. You're uncomfortable and not because the pain. He's touching those parts of you that are ugly. The ones marked with age and fat. The ones your husband hated so much. The ones that drove him to another.

“You needn't punish yourself any longer, darling,” he reprimands, “I'm only trying to give you all you deserve.”

You scoff and feel him stiffen. He once more frames your hips and hums, “what?”

“Nothing,” you mutter.

“No, tell me what is so amusing.”

“What I deserve? To be thrown on the floor? To be kept in a bed all day at your beck and call–”

“It was an accident, darling, we both were there–”

“You know it wasn't,” you sneer furiously and try to sit up, “ahhhh!”

You fall back, heavy enough that you feel the air rush out of him. He steadies you with his hands on your sides and you groan and snivel. You hate this. You hate feeling this helpless. You never wanted to be trapped again, yet here you are.

#dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #the night manager #series #drabble #bookstore au #au #helping hand

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constellationandcompendium · 1 year ago

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Writeblr Intro

Greetings traveller!

About Me:

She/her, early 30s

PhD graduate working in heritage

British (obsessed with tea)

Also sings and crochets

Enjoys both Star Trek & Star Wars

Occasional NaNoWriMo participant

Fanfic writer of 15 years making the jump into original fiction (find my fandom blog @thetamehistorian)

Happy to take asks / play tag games etc.

Has a habit of designing covers rather than writing

Second attempt at this blog (main blog this time, cha cha real smooth)

Tends To Write / Read

Sci-Fi & Cyberpunk

Urban Fantasy & Fantasy

Historical

Comedy (this suprised me too)

Introducing My WIPS

A crime thriller with a touch of cyberpunk...

Featuring

Man with habit of doing wrong thing for right reason

Best buds to reluctant allies to ‘I would die for you’

That ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this’ meme

Conspiracies and double agents

Lots of angst and hurt (with some comfort)

Wholesome parent / child relationships

Summary

Solaris City has a problem. Whilst the metropolis flourishes, down below in the old mines the Undercity grows wild and dangerous, it’s people cut off from the prosperity above, dreaming of the sun and spreading Haze - an addictive drug.

Elias also has a problem. Working for the Bureau has cleaned his slate but he hasn’t cut all ties with those underground. Now there’s a girl hidden in his flat and something big has been uncovered that has his contacts in a flurry.

With two days to go to a vote on unifying the two halves of the city, and his friend Sebastien caught right in the middle, Elias has a feeling that it'll only take one domino falling for everything to come crashing down.

Work Page

First Draft Complete, If Messy (Mind the Plot Holes)

A sci-fi comedy of a ship of misfits...

Featuring

Puns for ship names (and just bad jokes in general)

Captain packing up the ship and all its crew because they can no longer thrive in this household

Overly social parents (please stop inviting my professor over to dinner)

Space worker unions (and aliens)

Learning self-worth and finding strength through working together

Found family

Summary

The United Earth Ship Archimedes patrols the border of charted space. Beyond it - the vast and unexplored reaches of the universe.

It’s an exciting prospect for Aster Kobor, newly graduated from the fleet academy and hoping to make her mark upon the stars. Unfortunately, it only takes a few weeks for Aster to realise that the Archimedes is nicknamed ‘the screw’ for a reason. It’s a ship for the rejects and misfits, those deemed unfit to serve in the frontier ships and command never lets them do anything exciting. Still, Aster is determined to make the best of it and, unbeknownst to her, her meddling Captain is about to give the crew of the Archimedes their chance to show command what they're made of.

Soon a bad reputation is the least of their troubles and, whether the crew like it or not, they’ll have to learn to survive in deep space - where their only certainty is each other.

Work Page

Currently Wrangling Vibes Into ~ Characters ~ and ~ Plot ~

A historical novel about determined women, trains, and winning a war…

Featuring

One woman’s obsession with the railways

Code breaking commuters

Breakfasts cooked on a coal shovel

Being accidentally adopted by an elderly fireman and driver duo

Occasional air raid for added ~spice~

Solidarity in the face of adversity and outdated systems

Summary

Bea had always been fascinated by the railways, but her dream of driving one of the locomotives always seemed out of reach. Working the trains is dangerous, dirty, and completely off limits to the fairer sex.

Then the war came and the men went off the fight. Answering the call to help, Bea and her fellow railway volunteers find themselves with an opportunity of a lifetime. Obscured from judging eyes by steam and smoke they shadow the veteran drivers and engineers, learning what they can on the job and hitting the library when they can't.

The trains need to run, they are vital to the war effort. All it would take is one rogue bomb, one mishap to take out a driver and the wheels stop spinning.

Or at least, that's what the station manager thinks.

Work Page

Currently Doing Research and Initial Planning!

#introductions #wips #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #writer

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chronically-gay-whoops · 7 months ago

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Till Death Do Us Part - An Arthur Morgan x OC Story *Part One*

Content Warnings – Kidnapping, Death Threats, Micah Bell, Unplanned Pregnancy, Trauma, Angst, Character Deaths, Eventual Happy Ending (not in this part)

Word Count – 1.3k

Part One - 1.3k words (17th July 2024)

Part Two - 1.7k words (17th July 2024)

Part Three - 1.2k words (19th July 2024)

Authors Note – Some of you may have seen my desperate search for the fic I read years ago along a similar storyline to this. Despite constant searching, I never found it and am genuinely starting to think that it came to me in a dream. So here I am, writing a fic yet again. This will be my first fic since the days of Marvel One-shots over on Wattpad back in 2019, so sorry if I’m rusty!! This’ll either be 2 or 3 parts, should all be published within a week or so 😊

Also, can anyone let me know how to write masterlists/link fics? So that I can do the whole ‘part one here, part two here’ thing?

A quick introduction to the OC of this fic – Florence ��Flo’ Morgan – 26 years old (1899, 34 in 1907). Married to Athur Morgan since the summer of 1896, and a part of the Van Der Linde Gang since 1885, as Florence Nelson, at 12 years of age. After spending her childhood growing up alongside young Arthur Morgan and John Marston, with Dutch and Hosea as her mentors and honorary parents, her and Arthur eventually became sweet on each other, choosing to court from 1890, learning that they were the loves of each others lives.

-x-

“Flo, please, go. I’m sorry” whispered Arthur, the both of you hidden just outside of the entrance to Beaver Hollow. A single tear slid down his cheek as he held your shaking hands, his cerulean eyes glistening with pure heartbreak.

You both knew the truth – the gang was well and truly at an end. It had been an unbelievable 19 years since you’d first found your place in this family of misfits, but the time had come. To make matters worse, you knew that you were to be continuing with life alone. Your husband, the sweet, strong, seemingly invincible man, was dying. And you knew it. He never told you, but he should have known by now that after 3 years of marriage, and even longer as simply clueless soulmates, you knew him better than he knew himself.

At your silence, Arthur gently pushed you towards your horse. A loyal mare, a sweet grey thoroughbred named Darcy. She had been a part of the gang since you and Arthur first developed your relationship, almost 10 years ago now. Sensing your wrecked emotions, she gently nuzzled the back of your neck, seemingly knowing exactly what Arthur was expecting you to do, and preparing herself for the long and emotionally draining ride ahead of her.

“Arthur, please. Let me come with you. We can do this together”, you sniffle, grabbing desperately at his hands once again. Even though you knew exactly what reality held for you, you still plead for a second chance, a glimmer of hope inside you that together, you could beat Micah and Dutch, and live out your happily ever after. In your heart, you knew that would never happen, so even going forward with the love of your life to inevitably die together would suffice your aching soul. Sure, it wasn’t the way you wanted it to go, but at least you’d be sticking to the promise of ‘till death do us part’.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I really am. But you know I can’t let you come. I need you to be safe”, he responded, holding onto your hands, squeezing them gently. “You have to be safe”. Taking your waist gently, Arthur lifted you into Darcy’s saddle, his arms as strong as ever for you, despite his developing weakness. He always found strength for you. You had no regrets in this relationship, or life in general, not really. But you wish Arthur could’ve brought himself to tell you the truth about his illness. You suppose he’d rather that you believe that he’d died in the inevitable fight against Micah and Dutch, not succumbing to a fatal illness. It was a pride thing, you guessed.

Holding back a sob, you settle in your saddle, your feet sliding instinctively into your stirrups. Arthur takes your hands once again, shaking palms sliding into yours, and stares into your eyes. His face says a thousand words, but instant he mutters four simple ones. And they mean so much more than usual.

“I love you, Florence.”

You lean down for a final kiss, pressing your forehead against his, trying to put the last 9 years of love and devotion into this last moment together. A sudden rustle from within the now mostly derelict camp makes Arthur break out of his trance, quickly bringing him back to reality. He reluctantly pulls himself away from you, giving you a final look and a bittersweet smile.

Arthur gives Darcy a final pat, thanking her for her years of loyalty to the both of you, and you gently spur her forward, encouraging her away from the camp, away from the danger, and away from the love of your life. As she falls into a gentle canter, you look behind you one last time, giving Arthur a wistful look as he turns around, readying himself for the oncoming fight.

2 months later

The last 8 weeks of your life had truly been the most traumatic time. But the morning you had just experienced made the whole thing a lot more real.

After the loss of your husband, you had managed to reunite with John, Abigail, and the others. While you were far from safe, it definitely felt a lot more relaxed than the past few months you had gone through. Although you were on the run from the law on a daily basis, you finally had managed to rid yourself of the constant fear of the gang literally killing each other. The remaining portion of the gang had managed to set up a small camp just north of Ambarino, in the state of Oregon. Constantly on the look out of people following you, it was far from relaxing, but felt like a paradise in comparison. If only Arthur was there to see it, you couldn’t help but think.

However, a new fear had come to head. Whilst you originally put the lack of your monthly bleeding down to stress, new symptoms had caused Abigail to start giving you knowing looks. Looks that you didn’t even understand, to begin with. But after a serious conversation, your condition was clear. Pregnancy. With the man who you became a widow to 2 months ago. Due to be born to a life of running, at least until the extensive bounty was off your head. The worst case scenario.

Curse your mind. Your overactive brain couldn’t help to focus on one small light in this dark, dark time. You were getting a part of him back. What if they had his eyes? His laugh? His dry sense of humor? His intense way of caring and loving for anyone that mattered?

If this didn’t make you feel guilty, you didn’t know what would. How could you be finding joy in this time? Knowing that your child would be doomed, and yet still feeling a sense of happiness in it? Knowing that you were to live a life of single parenthood, knowing that your Arthur would never get to even know that his child was ever even a thing?

While your future was terrifying, the chance of having a part of your love back healed a small part of you.

1 month later

As your stomach slowly began to swell, the inevitable change in your life started to dwell on you. Yet still, the only person to know the truth was Abigail. Dear, pure Abigail. You don’t think you could’ve done any of this without her. Her knowing looks and careful tone was all you needed to come to terms with your condition. Speaking of, you knew she was looking for you, knowing that the impossible conversation was long overdue.

As you sat by the edge of your measly lakeside camp in North Western Oregon, gently stroking your tiny bump, you heard Abigail heading towards you, turning to see her striding in your direction with purpose set in her face. “Florence, you ready?” she murmured as she sat down next to you, digging her heels into the sand as she turned to watch you intently.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose”, you sigh, the weight of the world sitting heavily on your shoulders. “What’s the plan?”

Whilst the plan was simple, it was far from ideal. In short, you’d leave. Find a little homestead in the west, with the money Arthur left for you, as far from West Elizabeth and the surrounding areas as possible, and settle down. When the baby has come, move somewhere more temperate, more permanent, and just make your life work. A heartbreaking, lonely life, but the only one that would work.

The second part of the plan was the part that broke you more. When leaving, you’d tell nobody. Abigail would act none the wiser, and not even John, your brother since a child, would know of your situation. Not Sadie, not Charles, not anyone. A life where you were doomed to merely exist as a mother, until luck eventually found its way to you. If that ever was to happen.

You had a week until the end of your life as you knew it.

-x-

Thank you so much for reading, please like, reblog and comment for part 2 <3

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #read dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan angst #arthur morgan x oc #Florence Oseman (OC)

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theonewhospeaksinweird · 1 year ago

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💜Protection (Charlotte Katakuri x Female!Reader) Pt. 1💜

💚 = Lime/Lil Spicy

💛 = Lemon

💙 = Sad

❤️ = Angsty (won't do many of these unless prompted)

💜 = Fluff

💔 = Heartbreak (rare unless prompted)

🖤 = Normal

I'm sorry to anyone who has tried to request a story from me since I started writing here, but I was going through some things with school, graduating, and getting my life ready for adulting.~ I also got married, and am moving with my husband!~ And now I'm back with a self-indulgent story for my favorite character from One Piece, Charlotte Katakuri!~ Enjoy!~

Part 1 - -> Part 2 - -> Part 3

Nervousness seeped into my bones as I tried to calm myself. Gardening the castle grounds wasn't necessary, but I had nothing else to do with my anxious hands, so I tended to the house and my personal garden with them. I had already tried to sit down and read a book in our room, but seeing the bed reminded me of the moment I shared with my husband this morning. For once, that was what I was trying to distract myself from right now, and my husband was the source of my mounting anxieties.

"Why do you have to go today?" This variation of my needlessly repetitive daily question slipped from my lips as I breathed in his sweet scent. One I felt the need to ask every morning as if he would choose to stay in bed with me all day rather than do his job. Sometimes I, selfishly, wish he would stay, but I'd never make him choose. The devotion to his family that he shows every moment of the day is one of the many things that made me fall in love with him, after all. Even if it's clear that this duty takes a hefty toll on his body and mind, I still support him in every endeavor he chooses.

His morning voice rumbled more than usual, and it made me press further into his warm, enveloping skin under the covers as we whispered sleepily to each other. The bliss of our intimacy alone had me never wanting to leave my paramount husband's side. His arms were so immense and encompassing, and I was so small and protected. Never fearing anything but the absence of my husband. A deep sigh from him lifted me up and down on his chest as he came to a clearer consciousness.

"It's my duty, love, you know that." His beautiful incisors gently grazed my head as he spoke, entertaining my usual silly question of worry. Butterflies still tickled my stomach at the endearment he addressed me as, even after three years of marriage. Those flutters overwhelmed me with a wave of adoration for my giant lover. Of course, I believed in my husband's strength, I've seen what he is capable of firsthand multiple times.

If this were almost any other pirate crew member his mother was executing, I wouldn't be worried, but this was one of the worst generation's crew members, Black Leg Sanji of the Strawhat Pirates, so I couldn't help but fret a little. There wasn’t anyone on the Grand Line that had not heard of this infamous crew that had done the impossible over and over. And that was all before they disappeared for two years, presumed to be disbanded after a disheartening defeat at both Sabaody and Marineford. Who knew how much stronger they were after all this time. All of that didn’t even include the superhuman abilities of Germa 66 that were sure to turn on us the moment the betrayal registered.

Letting out a small hum, I attempted to dispel the worry from my thoughts so I could relish the last half hour I had with my husband for this morning before he went off to put himself in harm's way. For his family. For me. My droopy eyes opened slowly to see the hidden beauty of my husband that only I was allowed to gaze upon. From his beautiful, pearly teeth to his peaceful face that also only seemed to be reserved for my presence. The sharp, masculine lines of his face seemed softened, especially his arched eyebrows that were always furrowed when he was around anyone. Anyone except me, that is. My significantly smaller thumb brushed along his rough scar, making him shudder as he too opened his worn eyes filled with adoration the same as mine. Our equally sleepy eyes met as I continued to caress his momentary tenseness and my worry away.

I gave him a soft smile as I leaned in closer to nom his nose playfully, my lips covering my teeth. Technically, I could bite it off, but he currently seemed to be too sleepy to regrow it. A smile of his own upturned the corners of his mouth, making me undeniably happy and let slip a few giggles. Even though I've seen it multiple times before, it still makes me giddy to know that I make him smile. My tittering was joined by his rumble of a chuckle as we cuddled impossibly closer, his strong arms enveloping my person tighter than before. A comfortable silence cocooned us as we soaked in each other's care.

It was only about us right now.

Mirth had me smiling to myself as I absentmindedly caressed sugary dirt off of a fully grown candy corn on the cob, just like I had his cheek. A gentle but chilling breeze brought me back to the present, and my smile fell away as I automatically looked towards the nearby main island of Whole Cake. My soft blue antennas and small white wings swayed in the wind as I sighed and stood up to head inside with my now full basket of candy veggies.

Looking up at the pink cotton candy clouds I've grown used to, they were a far cry from the white and pristine ones I grew up on. As a fallen Skypeian, it was still odd for me to be looking up at the clouds rather than being in them. My abnormal antennas gifted me abilities similar to that of a Devil Fruit power, though the sea does not scorn me for mine. With the power to read and gently influence people's emotions, as well as view their memories when I touch them, it was hard to live blissfully unaware of things when they affected someone's emotions. When my emotions rise, so does the sensitivity of my gift, therefore, when going out in public, I wear silk gloves. Katakuri does a lot with helping me manage my emotions in public, but it's nice to have a backup aid. If only he were here now.

By the time I was done cleaning the candy veggies and storing them, my worries had soared to new heights, and I couldn't stand it anymore. Even though it was senseless, I rushed to our room, and quickly put on a yellow tulle, knee length dress while pocketing my white silk gloves before leaving through the back door. The front and sides were guarded by Cracker's biscuit soldiers that he offered for extra protection this morning. Upon opening the door, I was immediately met with the hollow, smiling faces of about ten homies which made me shudder. Not because I was scared of them, but because I knew what kept them alive.

After marrying Katakuri, I eventually confronted him with my experiences of seeing human memories when touching Homies around the kingdom, and he reluctantly explained. The truth drew me into a mournful stupor, heartbroken for all of the stolen life forces constrained to these obedient slaves. This depth of my sorrow had me distancing myself in a separate room for a week until I calmed down. Any person that came near me was overwhelmed with sobs as I was, except Katakuri whose eyes only watered. Katakuri sent away his Homies for me to feel comfortable, and brought in human staff to replace them, but I still avoid Homies as much as I can when we go to other islands.

"Hello, Miss Y/N! Where are you rushing off to in a hurry? Katakuri-Sama appointed us to join you if you decided to leave the grounds!" Spoke one cheerfully. These weren't like normal Homies, as they were made out of Katakuri's mochi, yet the familiar material did nothing to quell my uneasiness. The sentiment he put forth in this change touched me nonetheless since I knew he only wanted to protect me.

I tried not to look into any of their soulless eyes, which made it slightly easier when I quickly reached my bare hands forward to tap two of the Homies and activate their locked away memories. With this trick I learned from Pudding, I made quick work of the rest of them, stunning them into a melancholic stupor as I ran past and into the tree line before one of the biscuit guards could come. A shudder wracked my body as I tried to shake away the memories of those stolen lives plaguing my thoughts now. I ignored it, like Katakuri taught me, and focused on my end goal.

It was a short jog to the edge of the juice sea ebbing on the cake donut shore where my own personal boat sat anchored. With it being relatively small, the force of me hopping onto it jolted it forward a little, and I raised the anchor before starting the engine. My hands twisted on the tiller, (Tiller: The steering stick on an outboard motor engine) making the engine roar up louder as I steered towards the mistily hidden island of Whole Cake. As I flew across the violet juice, my left hand fingered the ever-present mochi bead bracelet around my right wrist that I had forgotten in my emotional frenzy.

"Do you have to go?" The first time I'd ever asked that silly question. My quiet voice matched the dewy expression I wore as I watched my handsomely half naked husband brush his teeth in the bathroom a few feet away. Those entrancing magenta eyes, normally sharp but now softened and puttying even further as they meet mine, traced my partially covered body before sighing and spitting. My antennae matched the striking pink of his eyes.

He finished his bathroom routine before lumbering over to me and taking a knee to nuzzle his face into mine. I gladly welcomed the unabashed affection, softly kissing his parted lips in return. He hadn't even begun to be this close until a year into our marriage which was two months ago, so I welcomed it all. My hands traced the defined yet soft muscles along his chest as I tried to memorize every dip and line his body made in response to years of rigorous training. A shiver slips down my spine as his large teeth gently graze my soft lips engaging his in a deeper kiss. The kiss ends just as I was starting to tug him back into the bed by his neck, his large hands stopping his descent by holding onto the edge of the bed. With a pout, I stubbornly hung onto his neck as he sat back up until one of his large hands gently tried to tug me away.

When I did finally relent, I could see my red-faced husband bashfully averting his eyes, causing me to giggle and lie back down a little more satisfied than before. He used one hand to cover as much of his face as possible, and the other he outstretched towards me. I sat up again to look at his bare hand, about to place my own in it until little balls of mochi started to float up into the air. About twenty of them were created before they spun around and arranged into a bracelet. The newly formed piece of pristine white jewelry fell back into his large hand soundlessly.

I was already in awe of the delicate display of his powers, but upon realizing that the creation was for me, I was hesitant to take it. Stealing a glance up at him, he motioned to the bracelet with his eyes while still sporting a red, yet now uncovered, face. With his extra prompting, I gingerly took the bracelet. The instant I did, I felt an overwhelming wave of love tainted with anxiousness flood my body, making my wings flutter and antennas glow a deep reddish pink. The inevitable smile creeps onto my face, exploding into a wide grin and an unstoppable flurry of giggles. At hearing my unadulterated laughter, Katakuri starts to chuckle with me and leans in to nuzzle his nose against my neck.

"Now you'll always have a piece of me with you, and I'll always feel your heartbeat to know you are well. Perhaps this will bring both of us some peace of mind." He rumbled in my ear before slowly pulling away. This time I don't try to pull him back, but still begrudgingly watch him stand up to his full height. While maintaining eye contact, I put on the bracelet and rub it against my cheek. A thrum of arousal rings from it into my warm cheek, which blossoms a devious smile on my face as my antennae's red overtakes the pink.

"I think this'll do a few more things than that.~"

A particularly rough wave jolts me to the floor of my white boat, making the engine idle and the boat cruise without my steadying hand. Through my wall of worries, I hadn't focused on the bracelet, the window into my partner's soul. Wanting the bracelets to be a two-way street of emotional clarity, I had Katakuri make himself another and infused it with my powers so he could feel my emotions too. Now crouched down in the bottom of the boat, I clutched the bracelet to my chest and breathed in a few calming breaths. Bump. A dash of anxiety, always present despite his cool exterior. Bump Bump. Swirls of skepticism, he's people watching. Ba Dump Dum. My cheeks heat up as the dominating warmth of love spreads through me. Love was the best emotion to feel from him. I used his calm emotions to steady my own but felt bad that he's had to deal with all of my topsy turvy ones, as usual. He and I were complete opposites.

Now with more peace, I returned to the tiller and, with a softer twist, continued my trek towards Whole Cake. The closer I got, the stronger myriad of emotions I could sense from my bracelet. Nervousness is stronger, tense pulses of exploration followed by a ripple of anger. He's using his Observation Haki and what he sees is not good. At this revelation, the moment my boat hits the shore of Whole Cake, I'm up and running towards the looming chateau that stands in the middle of the city.

I can hear a faint rumbling, even from the edge of the city, which makes my stomach turn in an ocean of my worst fears. I can see a giant wedding cake up at the very top where Big Mom always has her tea parties, and it seemed like it was . . . crumbling? Running all the way from the shore to the center of town, I joined the townspeople in staring up at the top of the chateau in horror. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest as feelings of annoyance edging on ire came from Katakuri.

If what I think is happening, is happening, then all the townspeople will soon be in danger. Mama has been raving about that wedding cake ever since she decided to "marry off" Pudding, and it's been in production for weeks now. If Mama doesn't eat that cake, she's going to have hunger pains and won't stop until a new one is remade. Which means I have my work cut out for me. Despite this acceptance of my duties for today, that didn't get rid of the fearful lilac filing my antennae. The townspeople started to murmur nervously to themselves about what was happening, and finally noticed I was among them.

"Lady Y/N! Do you know what is happening?"

"Miss Y/N, please tell us what is happening at Miss Pudding's wedding!" These first outcries were followed by a cacophony of worried voices that flooded my ears. After a few moments of trying to get my bearings, the yelling became too much. The mixture of my heightening panic, the thrum of my husband's own elevated emotions and the frenzy of the growing crowd exhausted me. The clear lilac muddied into brown.

"I. . ." A pulse of simmering anger from my bracelet makes me gasp before I could give the citizens a proper answer. The continual rumbling of the cake chateau made me uneasy, and I'd rather be safe than sorry about the townspeople's safety. Pushing out of the crowd, I ran over to a Homie guard.

"Miss Y/N, is something-?" Before he could finish, I cut him off with a frantic answer.

"We need to evacuate the city, Mama's cake is falling and Katakuri is fighting someone, that can only mean that the Strawhats are up there! It'll only be a matter of time before Mama starts her hunger pain, even if the Strawhats are defeated. We can't let the citizens get in the way. Tell everyone to evacuate as soon as possible!" The guard nodded obediently and ran off to spread the news. I was running in the opposite direction, back towards the chateau, yelling for people to evacuate, and trying to ignore the emotions flooding my senses as my husband expressed his rising anger and frustration.

I knew he should've stayed at home in bed with me this morning.

<コ:彡ミ��<コ:彡ミ☆ <;コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆

It didn't take long for the townspeople to catch wind of the evacuation warning, and soon the usually bustling capital of Totto Land was desolate. Everyone knew the dangerous nature of Mama's hunger pain rampages, and that drove them to leave as soon as possible. Before I could think of what to do next, a surprising yet fleeting emotion dripped icily into my veins from my husband: fear. It was fleeting, but I've never seen or felt my husband fear anything or anyone, though I didn't have to wait long for the cause of it.

A large explosion sounded off at the base of the whole cake chateau, washing a wave of heat and debris over me as I crouched down and covered my head with my hands. Light purple lit up my face as I pushed my antennae down against my head as well. My heart pounded out of my chest as I stayed down until the wind died. A horrible groaning and cracking noise resounded around me from the chateau, urging me to look up at the damage done.

The entire chateau was falling towards me.

An undeniable fear of my own clawed out of my chest as I stood up and started to sprint away from the falling structure. My lungs struggled to keep up with my frantic breaths as I focused on staying upright and dodging continuously falling debris. As I ran, I tried to look back towards the top of the crashing structure to see if I could spot anyone, but after almost getting crushed and tripping a few times, I decided to focus on my escape first. Despite my best efforts and no matter how hard I ran, the shadow of the chateau never seemed to leave my figure. Hopelessness dragged down my tiring body, painting my antennae a dreary gray.

'I'm not going to make it. Why did I come here? I should've just stayed at home like Katakuri told me to, Katakuri is always right! Stupid, stupid! Now he'll blame himself if I die here! He'll work himself even harder!' Tears began to waver my sight, and stream down my sweaty, dirty cheeks as I kept pushing my legs harder and harder. I could hear the crashing of larger debris behind me, and even though it scared me, I started to slow down until I dropped to my knees. Each breath seemed like it wasn't enough, especially as I kept crying under the looming shadow of the chateau.

Trembling on the ground, I threw my head back to stare up at my inevitable fate, only to face a large chunk of sponge cake falling towards me. Everything seemed to slow down as my wonderful life in the past three years with Katakuri flashed through my mind. I didn't want to die. Didn't want to leave him.

"If you ever need me, just call out my name, and I'll come to you no matter where I am. I will always protect you." Katakuri's promise from all those years ago resounded in my mind.

Clenching my eyes, I let out the loudest yell I could muster.

"KATAKURI, PLEASE PROTECT ME!! I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE YOU!!"

I felt a surprising surge of energy burst through my tired body as I screamed out and waited to either be swept off my feet by my husband or crushed. All I felt was an even greater fatigue. What a pitiful way to die on the Grand Line. 'I'm sorry, Katakuri.' After a few hard beats of my heart pounding against my ribcage, and neither of those things happening, I cracked my eyes open to look at what had happened. It took me a moment to comprehend what I was seeing through bleary eyes, but even when I wiped them what I saw confused me.

The first thing I noticed was white. At a glance, I thought it was the familiar mochi of my husband who came to save me, but realized this was definitely different once my mind cleared. A buzzing bubble surrounded me like a shield, and it was deathly quiet. 'Did someone else make this, or. . . is this me. . ?' Nothing was heard other than my labored breaths. I saw the large piece of sponge cake that had been hurtling towards me moments ago nearby on the ground in smaller pieces. The second thing I noticed was that the entire cake chateau had been turned into real sponge cake, and heavy cream was spilling its way towards me. Not a moment after this fearful realization did my bubble shatter.

All the sound that had been blocked out by it came rushing back all at once. The gushing of heavy cream, settling of debris, groaning from the buildings that were supporting the now sponge cake chateau, and a few pained groans from nearby. Despite all the noise, there was one noise that made my breath hitch as I turned towards it.

The sound of spurs.

I saw my mountain of a husband, Katakuri, running towards me rapidly with Daifuku and Oven close behind.

"Y/N!" He yelled as he got to me, my arms already raised and ready for him to pick me up, which is exactly what he did. Faint yellow relief filled me.

"Katakuri! I'm sorry I left the house, I should have stayed home, but I was worried, and I felt your emotions and, and-" I couldn't even finish my sentence before I was breaking down into tears as all the stuff that had happened so quickly washed over me. Everything was a mess, I was a mess, and I almost died. He held me so close and tight in his large, strong arms, pressing my body into his heaving chest, and head into his scarf. My hands slipped under his scarf so I could wrap my arms around his bare neck and ground myself in his contact. I could feel the fast thumping of his heartbeat against my own pounding chest as he tried to futilely hide the fact that he was shaken up.

No doubt when he heard me scream his name a few moments ago, he looked into the future and saw me about to be crushed by a cake. We both just relished each other's safety for a few moments, his mouth nuzzling its way to my cheek in his scarf. The shakiness of his breath made me whimper and cry a little more. We stayed like this before he gently tugged me away from his comforting body after we had mostly calmed down. His crimson eyes were imperceptibly watery as they searched my face and body for any injuries. Normally furrowed eyebrows were upturned in worry.

"Why are you-? No, first, are you okay? I didn't think I was going to make it in time. I saw the cake, and then a flash of white, I thought-" He abruptly stopped that line of thinking along with his fast breaths that were edging on hyperventilating. He quieted and focused on catching his breath as he studied me. I couldn't look him in the eye for long as guilt wracked my body for making my husband feel so worried about me. A few sniffles are all that sounded from me as I let him cycle through his emotions to calm down. Katakuri saw my reluctance to look at him straight, sighed, and brought me back towards him. My forehead touched his as one of his gloved hands lifted to my chin and redirected my averted gaze up to his worried pools of magenta. There was no anger, just concern and fear, even though he had every right to feel angry with me. This softness was something I only saw when we were alone, and it just broke me again. Tears quickly filled my eyes as I nodded in response to his second question.

"I-I'm fine. I don't know what happened with the- the cake and the forcefield. I'm sorry I left the house, but I was just so worried about you, and I couldn't help myself! And when I got on the island, I heard Mama screaming and you felt angry, and then the cake fell, and I evacuated everyone, but then the chateau fell and-" It was a wonder if he could understand my blubbering as I gestured wildly around us to the mess everywhere, but he let me go on until I ran out of breath. He just stood there, listening, and rubbing his thumb along my cheek to wipe away the tears.

"Anything else, love?"

A blush warmed my cheeks at his soft tone and pet name, but nodded, nonetheless. It wasn't a condescending question, he just wanted to make sure I was getting everything out. Despite causing trouble because I disobeyed him, he still wanted to make sure I was well. Another rumbling hum resonated in his broad chest as he studied my tear-stained face, dirtied yellow dress and flushed face. This softened his gaze even further as he felt regret at my sullied state.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I don't know what I would do without you, Y/N, and I would rather not think about it. Although you did disobey me and slipped past the many Homies I had stationed around our home to try to prevent this very event from happening," I winced guiltily under his momentarily scolding gaze, "I am, nonetheless, happy that you came, and are safe. Your kindness knows no bounds, and I feel unworthy of such a display of love, yet I humbly accept it." His last sentence was quieter than the rest of his gentle scolding, still aware of his brothers nearby helping the rest of his siblings up from the rubble.

A wobbly smile tugged at my lips as new tears stung my eyes and I nodded. The warmth of our shared love for each other in this mess transitioned my relieved yellow to a lovingly deep pink.

"You're the one who's kindness is endless. I didn't listen to you about staying home and caused you extra stress. You should be furious with me, but you just care about me being safe. I have no one to blame for my state except myself, Kata, and you know it. None of this is your fault. And of course, you're worthy of my love, we've been over this, silly. You deserve the world, especially with everything you do for your family, and for me. I would do anything to ensure your safety, just as you do for us." I wanted to give him a kiss on the lips, but we were in public, so I just settled for giving him a lingering kiss between his eyebrows. He seemed to relax a little at this gesture, taking my return compliment well. Before either of us could say anything more, a shrill and angered voice called out for my darling love.

"Big brother Katakuri! What are we going to do about this mess, and all the traitors and intruders?! We have no time to just stand around!" It was Mont d'Or screaming and being followed by what looked like a giant chicken man in a familiar pink suit, Brulee, Compote and a few other higher ranking Charlotte siblings. Katakuri's tender face of worry hardened back to his serious one, which saddened me that our moment was already over. Duty calls, though, and I was used to it by now.

Katakuri made no move to put me down yet, so I just let out a soft sigh and leaned into his scarf to rest for a little. He finally turned around to face his oncoming siblings, and a few were surprised to see me in his hold. The first person to speak up about it was Brulee who walked forward with concern written all over her long face.

"Y/N-nii! What are you doing here? You look a mess, are you okay?" Everyone expressed different levels of concern over my state, but before I could say anything for myself, Katakuri spoke up for me.

"She was worried about Pudding's wedding, so she came to make sure everything was fine, but got a little caught up in some of the chateau's destruction. She's fine now." Katakuri's firm voice left no more room for questions, so everyone accepted this answer. I didn't look at anyone in particular, opting to just stay snuggled in the soft fabric of my husband's scarf.

Everyone started to talk about the attacks on the chateau, but I was only partially listening. I was staring absently at the ground, in thought, when a long pink and black, twisted lollipop invaded my vision. I perked up a little at the offering, looking past it to a smiling Perospero who gave me a little wink when my gaze fully met his. With a little giggle, I took the treat and began to suck on it as I settled back against Katakuri. He didn't say anything about it, but I could feel his cheeks shift under his scarf in a smile which had me glancing up at him with a small smile of my own.

Once again, our moment was broken by someone yelling, but this time it was Daifuku directing troops. From what I had heard snippets of, the explosion on the chateau was still unknown, the bird man was somehow Tamago based on how he was talking, Strawhat Luffy and his allies had caused a lot of damage, Jinbei announced his resignation to join the Strawhats and Capone Bege had betrayed us to help the Strawhats assassinate Big Mom. The last piece of information was a disappointment but not a surprise. Katakuri had always had his suspicions on Bege's loyalty. Jinbei, though, was more saddening.

Ever since Whitebeard died, he was quick to ally with Big Mom to protect Fishman Island from pirates. He only visited the chateau when Big Mom called him, and rarely came to Komugi Island unless it had something to do with Katakuri. Nevertheless, the times he accepted my invitation to tea when he was around, he was kind, respectful and a joyful company to have. He didn't disclose any sensitive information outside of personal information, but I'm sure he was being reasonably cautious since I was married to Katakuri. One might think he was just nice to me because of my relations to one of Big Mom's highest-ranking members, but I like to think he genuinely enjoyed our time together as I did.

"Brulee, come with me. I'm going after Strawhat." Katakuri demanded, and as Brulee agreed and started to rant about what they put her through, I could feel Katakuri's anger rising high as he listened to his sister. The development made me a little nervous because the higher strung his emotions were in a fight, the more likely he was to slip up.

"I will personally make sure he is stopped. Not only has he destroyed our kingdom, put the family in imminent danger and tried to assassinate Mama, but", his grip tightened on me, "he almost caused serious harm to my wife. I must stop him here before he becomes a bigger threat to Mama later on." His protectiveness over everyone, especially me, had me blushing as butterflies tickled my stomach. Though, the thought of him getting hurt on our behalf churned my stomach over the butterflies.

This pirate had managed this much damage, even if he did have some powerful allies to aid him. Either he was as strong as his bounty suggested, or this was all pure luck. Even if Strawhat Luffy lived up to his current bounty, it was still only half of Katakuri's which totaled in at a billion berries. I had done enough doubting of him today, so I tried to quell the growing uneasiness that colored my antennae a lime green.

Just as Katakuri prepared to put me down to leave with Brulee, a loud rumbling and sounds of massive destruction caught everyone's attention. Soon thereafter, Smoothie was running towards us, urging us to do the same. If she was this frantic, that could only mean one thing: Mama's hunger pains had started.

<コ:彡ミ☆<コ:彡ミ☆ <;コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆

Wah!~ Okay, sooo this turned into something WAY longer than I expected it to be, so I split it up!~ The scene I started this story in mind with can be reached in two parts.~ The second part is mostly done already, but now I kind of want to have another part for just pure fluff and maybe a little somethingggggg, I don't know!~ I'll decide when I get the planned parts out and see how they do and how I feel, I suppose.~ Take care, dearies!~

Part 1 - -> Part 2 - -> Part 3

#charlotte katakuri #katakuri #one piece #mochi man #whole cake island #wci #katakuri x reader #x reader #female reader #knacks writes

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neonscandal · 1 year ago

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some questions about jujutsu I would appreciate it if you could answer me. 1. do you think megumi and itadori are a comparison to geto and gojo? 2. What do you find most tragic about geto and gojo's relationship? 3.if geto didn't exist, who would you ship gojo with? ps; I would ship toji and gojo.

Answering these out of order to hide spoilers!

3. If Geto didn't exist, I would ship Gojo with Nanami. Nanami would be bothered 600% of the time.

2.Most tragic is the fact that, while Gojo always looked at Geto's soul and accepted him unconditionally, Geto thought their relationship was over the moment he chose to leave Jujutsu High and they never reconciled this disparity while living. If you want an exhaustive list of the things that rot my brain and prevent me from remembering basic things like my childhood and the Pythagorean theorem, please, feel free to read this recently updated and ongoing list. 😭

Lastly, yes, I think ItaFushi are meant to be a parallel to SatoSugu. See below for why!

⚠️ Spoiler Warning through JJK chapter 247.

The comparison isn't perfect but I don't know that it's meant to be.

I feel like I reference Naruto a lot for having not seen it but I'm pretty sure it's a solid example of the generational failures of the Uchiha clans and the Hidden Leaf Village as overcome by Sasuke and Naruto, respectively.

I think that JJK could be a circular story (check out the Rick & Morty progression, in particular) and that SatoSugu and ItaFushi seem to run as parallels. To simplify, we'll break it up by the OG for parallels:

SATORU

and Megumi (he got blue eyes when he's supposed to have green.. 💎👄💎)

Born of Jujutsu royalty with a familial technique

Familial technique damns them to a burden of responsibility. Gojo became the head of the Gojo clan, Megumi is bought and sold but effectively abdicates his place with the Zenin

When given the chance, relents to leverage the value of his cursed technique to protect others that they deem deserving. Gojo protects Megumi, Yuta and Yuji; Megumi protects Tsumiki and later, Yuji.

In spite of the above, will execute their responsibilities of a sorcerer but will also pick and choose if they will do something outside of that obligation. Think back to Megumi's moral judgement when it came to those in the detention center and Gojo's willingness to act outside of direct orders because... he could.

Just leaving the visual evidence of these little weirdos

and Yuji

The Sun characters but not without shadow.

Blessed births, even though Yuji's was... untraditional, it forged him as a powerful vessel with inhuman strength without a heavenly restriction.

Anomalous strength. Gojo for Six Eyes and Limitless which haven't been seen together in one user in over 100 years. Yuji is able to produce Black Flashes at will and at a rate which is canonically uncommon.

Experienced death and rebirth which brought about change in them. Gojo found enlightenment; Yuji, while in hiding, experienced loss, the tragedy of which marked him noticeably.

They both know the alienation of greatness. Both undergo power ups shattering the ceiling of their previously understood power thresholds and go beyond the comprehension or without the knowledge of their counterparts. Gojo, I think, knew that it would foundationally upset something between he and Geto. Yuji probably just thinks he is getting acclimated to the new world he finds himself within and doesn't realize how insane his glow up has been.

Guilt for not being able to save someone "close to them". Gojo, obviously, with Geto and Yuji with Junpei, initially, but that list has grown. Exponentially.

SUGURU

and Megumi

The Moon characters but they have something worth fighting for that gives them an air of light.

Both believe in and will act on behalf of the weak. Geto believes the strong should protect the weak and keep the strong in check. Megumi believes that if someone cannot observe the basic tenet of don't kill me, I won't kill you, he should exact punishment whether the person infringed on this basic law with him or not.

Despite their code, they still develop or have a discerning application of their morals.

But what happens when that morality is tested? Geto realizes the weak are capable of harm when he discovers the abuse of Nanako and Himiko. Megumi, if he hasn't already, will eventually come to understand that saving Yuji came at the cost of countless lives, including that of Tsumiki, in a way, even if she died by his own hand.

Know intimately the loss of someone they were close with only to find that person returned to them.. but different.

Feeling left behind by the power ups of their counterparts, they are left to their own devices. Notably, Geto spirals into depression and PTSD, Megumi, citing the difference, asks Gojo for additional lessons so he doesn't fall behind.

Doomed by the narrative? or at least by their power. Kenjaku covets Geto's body for the hold it has over Gojo and, possibly, the cursed technique that enabled him to espouse Mahito and Tengen's techniques. Sukuna covets Megumi for Ten Shadows.

Subsequently, both are possessed by something that easily outclasses them but they still are able to rebel when fighting against their counterparts. Geto's corpse strangles Kenjaku in Shibuya; Megumi manipulates how much cursed energy is output when Sukuna fights against Yuji.

Both of them recognize that, despite their counterpart's strength, they are still deserving of concern and worry. This is likely informed by the knowledge of their own weakness and inability to protect.

and Yuji

Outsiders to jujutsu society

Get their power/strength from ingesting something unholy; curses or cursed relics. Either way, both seem to beg the question of how long one can you these things before it poisons something within you?

Earnestly want to help people with a martyr mentality. The idea being, if I am the only one with this power then it's my responsibility to do something; Geto with his role as a sorcerer and Yuji as the only person who can consume Sukuna

Subsequently damned by this noble desire. Geto finds that the sacrifice is no longer palatable after the sacrifices of Riko and Haibara and the abuse of Nanako and Himiko. Yuji experiences survivors' guilt for every slight Sukuna is able to inflict while he continues to live.

A pattern of failure to protect (Riko and Junpei) followed by the loss of a companion (Haibara and Nanami, and what a way for their deaths to mirror one another...) as an impetus for great change in their characters.

The wealth of their goodness has the potential to cause just as big a vacuum of negativity when they break. Arguably this is what pushes the invisible hand that guides the events that radicalizes Geto and informs Mahito's insistence to break Yuji's soul.

Speaking of souls - this idea of their soul's in particularly. Gojo seeing and recognizing Geto's. Mahito feeling the edge of Yuji/Sukuna's soul. We see that Sukuna can aim attacks at Megumi's soul but... why did the goodness in Geto's persist for Gojo to love him unconditionally? How did Yuji's soul withstand external attacks from Mahito and internal attacks from Sukuna?

Where SatoSugu's fatal flaw was hubris, we don't see that with ItaFushi and that, perhaps, is the biggest indication that they're correcting the faults of their forebears while also suffering the repercussions of their failure.

Gege Akutami could absolutely have the whole story end in flames, don't get me wrong. I would 10,000% be invested to the very last page. There's no guarantee that this is a circular story, that any of these characters find peace or that any of them even survive but I can't help but see the similarities, at least as far these four are concerned.

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asha-mage · 1 year ago

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Mat/Rand. Prince

[Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]

There is a small grassy glade in the Waterwood, nestled between two oddly shaped boulders that at one point in history, might have been something more. The huge willows of the Waterwood, with their spreading branches and tangling winding roots flank it on all sides and make the place almost invisible, if you do not know the trick of finding the path.

Rand can no longer remember if he or Mat was the first to discover it- the first to wander into that hidden place, always a little shadowy and damp with dew, even at mid noon in summer. But he knows that it was just their place: for the two of them to lay back in the grass and reach up for the branches, to laugh and joke and share secrets together. To talk of the adventures they would have when they where big enough to no longer be told no but their families or the Wisdom, or the Women’s Circle.

It wasn’t like the pond where they would go sometimes, with Perrin and Egwene to swim in the boiling heat of summer. Or like the trips down to idle by the river with other village youths. Something unspoken held it just between them, as if sharing knowledge of it would shatter something fragile and brittle and shinning kept there, between their laughs and games of make-believe.

Once, when they where eight, Mat had made a crown. With his clumsy fingers he had woven starburst and morning glory with loose garlands from the willows, twinning them around broken branches and loose sticks until he had made a rough ring of white and gold and bright orange.

He had bowed elaborately when he was done and presented the crown to Rand with a flourish.

“My prince.” Mat had said with exaggerated deference spoiled only a little by the fox like grin on lips. Rand couldn’t help but laugh as he had taken it and placed it onto his head. He had known it would look foolish, but something had shinned in Mat’s eyes as Rand had fixed it in place, something for which Rand had no name at the time.

“And what am I prince of exactly?” Rand had teased when the crown was settled. “Where is my kingdom?”

“You are standing in it!” Mat had laughed and gestured at the glade. “Prince of the hidden grove! Lord of the Waterwood, etc etc.”

Rand had smirked back. “Master of all the castles in the air? And served by soldiers armored in gossamer steel?” He teased. “And who is my general then? A puppet made of glass?”

Mat had whooped but shaken his head, plucking up another stick to hold like a General’s rod. “No puppets for the Prince of the Morning. I am your general, leader of your loyal hawks, and dogs and foxes. All the carrion eaters, all the foul things can oppose you if they wish-“ He winked. “I will drive them all back with sword and shield and catapult. Let the beetles and the snakes, the rats and the ravens try. I will chase them all away from you, Highness.”

He had said it with such solemnity, such stiff lipped strength that Rand couldn’t help but burst into laughter, and Mat had followed suit soon after. They had ended up laying on their backs staring at the sky and joking about the campaigns they would wage, and the laws they would enact in their new realm (beginning with no bed times of course, and descending in importance from there).

At some point Mat’s hand had found it’s way into Rand’s, and stayed there, until it was to late for them to remain, and they had no choice but to head back to the village.

My general of the hawks and the dogs and the foxes. Rand thought as he watched Mat ride ahead of him. That was years ago no, more then a decade gone. All around them, the crowds of Cairhien citizens cheered and sang, trying to press in on Rand’s small party, held back by the Maidens and the Tearians alike.

And Mat rode ahead, not looking back. Afraid to even stare into Rand’s eyes for to long. Lieutenants and officers from the Band of the Red Hand surrounded him on all sides, and more soldiers marched, rank on rank ahead of them, basking in the accolades of their victory.

The Band of the Red Hand. Not the Band of the Dragon, or the Legion of Al’Thor. The Band of the Red Hand, named for a long dead army of mercenaries, and likely to be just the same.

Rand felt his eyes sweep up to the spires of the Sun Palace in the distance. He was more then any Prince now, more then any King, probably more even then long dead Artur Hawkwing. His name would be writ across history in fire, and their where thousands ready to march at his word, to die for him.

He felt the never healing wound in his side throb in dull agony.

His eyes sank back to Mat, to the sight of the nape of his neck, just visible above the collar of his coat.

And I would trade it all, to be in our grove again. I would give it all away for our castles in the air, for our army of hawks and dogs and foxes.

Better to be a prince with a flower crown, then the Dragon Reborn. Better by miles.

#WoT #Wheel of Time #WoT Book Spoilers #TFOH Spoilers #Rand al'thor #Mat Cauthon #Cauthor #Rat #WoT Fanfic #WoT On Prime #Wheel of Time on Prime #Rand x Mat #Drabble Challenge

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thewalkingwillowtree · 2 years ago

Text

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 23.

Xilä is my own creation.

Part 9 - Delicious

A squeal escaped Xilä when she was suddenly lifted from Neteyam’s lap. He sat her high up on his chest when he laid stretched out on his back.

“Okay?” he asked, checking in.

She nodded with a little blush. It was one thing to be naked in front of him, but she was practically splayed right now- this was up close and personal.

Soothing the skin of her outer thighs, he openly stared at the glistening between her legs- gold eyes darkening, nostrils flaring, lips licking in anticipation.

“Do you even know how pretty you are?” he rasped, almost as if in a daze.

Xi smothered a laugh. She’d never heard of one’s intimates called pretty before.

“Oh you think that’s funny? I’m completely serious, you know?” he teased with a low growl, leaning up to nip the flesh of her inner thigh.

She hissed, and choked on a laugh.

“Come’re.”

His large palms cupped her butt and pulled her even closer to him so that her spread knees landed on the grass on either side of his face- her core a mere inches away from his mouth.

She felt slightly awkward. “Um, what do I do?” she asked hesitantly.

“Nothing. You just enjoy it and if you’re not, we’ll stop,” he said, linking their tails together to give her some assurance.

When he spoke, puffs of air hit her directly, making her squirm a bit. “Oh, um…Alright.”

A shiver rocked her when he stared into her eyes and gave her a comforting kiss right against her soaked lips.

He eased her into it with soft pecks and featherlight brushes of his lips. When she made no complaints he took it up a notch with little licks and grazes of his teeth.

Neteyam groaned sinfully, because she was honestly downright delicious. “Fucking hell baby,” he mumbled, before instantly going in for more.

At first, she simply stared down at the arousing sight of him between her legs while she got used to the new position and the sensation of his mouth doing wicked wicked things to her. But then her eyes were shutting closed and she was quickly and eagerly rocking in time with his ministrations.

His pattern soon changed from gentle and slow to fast and deliberate. The flat of his tongue dragged along her slit over and over before he began to swirl, suck and playful nip her at hidden nub.

One large hand curled to fasten on her hip, holding her firm to his mouth, the other sailing up to play with her pretty nipples.

A loud arousing moan filled the air. Xilä arched, head lolling back and forth as her body rocked with pleasure.

He was enjoying himself too it seemed- humming and smiling as he ate her out like a starved man, practically holding her up as she shook above him.

Neteyam’s tongue was dangerous. A weapon, she thought. She panted and whined as she felt herself slowly climbing, getting closer and closer to the brink.

With quick success he had her screaming and moaning out loud as if they were the only two people in existence.

“Oh Great Mother!” she shouted when he sucked hard on her clit. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

She fell back, palms flat on his abs to help hold herself up as she ground against his mouth.

His laughter at her use of human swears and curses, sent a rippling vibration through her.

“‘Teyam! I’m going to- !”

Eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open, Xilä came with a cry. Her body convulsed and eardrums went muffled as she shattered above him.

But her betrothed had no intention of stopping though. Not giving her a moment to recover, he was continuing his feast with vigor, desperate for even more.

Xilä jerked in his hold in shock, hips twitching to get away from the overstimulation.

“Teya-mmm, wait wait- oh FUCK!” she screamed as his tongue made its way deep inside of her- the warm, wet appendage vigorously working her.

Neteyam was ruthless. Even when she buckled, unable to hold herself up any longer- he still kept firm grips, speeding up his tongue even faster.

“Oh- mmm. Please- ple-” she begged and babbled incoherently, panting as her body moved on its own accord- hips furiously rotating and grinding in time with the rhythm of his unruly tongue.

Eyes rolling and brain short circuiting from sheer pleasure, she unconsciously alternated between biting her lip and crying out loud with her jaw unhinged.

The moment the tip of his tail made contact with her swollen bud, the same time he twisted a nipple- she exploded.

Her screams echoed around their hideaway and Xilä sobbed as a powerful orgasm rocked her body, causing tears to leak from the corners of her eyes while she spasmed uncontrollably.

Neteyam greedily lapped and licked, helping her through the waves while she withered in his strong grips.

When she seemed to have calmed, he sat up and gently eased her down to the ground between his propped up legs. Her own legs splayed out behind him, thighs on both sides of his hips- completely limp.

Xi hid her face behind her palms with a little mewl when his tented front accidentally brushed her swollen center. She was still overly sensitive and experiencing tiny aftershocks.

“When we move in together, we're going to have to get to a place far from our families…and probably anybody else,” Neteyam thought out loud as he observed her, massaging her aching thighs with a stupid proud grin on his face.

“Mm-Why?” she asked, a bit muffled, from behind her hands as she tried to catch her breath.

“You’re a screamer, baby. I have to practically gag you whenever we’re at your place, remember? I’d be a dead man if I didn’t- Jxo would kill me in a heartbeat.”

Her hands fell away, gaze locking with his. He smirked, enjoying the shifting expressions crossing her face- she was too fucking cute, he thought.

“I- well..” she was clearly embarrassed.

He laughed. “It’s a good thing Xi, I like that about you. See I don’t even need to ask you if you enjoyed just now....your loudness told me everything.” He bit his lip apprehensively. “You did enjoy it, right? You weren’t faking…right?”

Xi laughed so hard she snorted, wincing slightly when her movement caused their fronts to brush again. “I was not faking no, I thoroughly did enjoy it, yes,” she said grinning. “Your face is a mess though, ‘Teyam.”

His own grin shone through as he proudly wiped at the slick shining on the skin of his nose, cheeks, jaw and chin, licking the remnants from around his lips.

“Where’d you get that sudden potty mouth from sweetheart?” he taunted in retaliation to her smartass retort- she had sure cursed a whole lot while he ate her out.

“Ask your tongue,” she sassed in response, causing him to cackle again.

“Oh just for that I’m going to make you come again, right now. No more rest for you Miss. Sass.”

They both moaned lowly when he suddenly tugged her hips forward to roll his bulge along her slit.

“Teyam,” she purred.

“Feels good, sweetheart?” he asked in a strained tone, speeding up the rocking- the friction causing him to groan.

“So gooood,” she sighed out, enjoying the look on his face as he used her to his liking.

Lifting her hips slightly to get a better angle, she was practically his pleasure toy. He worked her up and down the length of his shaft through his now soaked loincloth.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

Eyes darkening dangerously, he stared at the sight of them rubbing together before trailing up the length body to find her gaze. “Please Xi,” he asked hoarsely.

He was holding back she realized, he looked somewhat insane- as if he were about to snap.

She reached a hand out for him and in one swoop she was in his arms, wrist linking behind his neck for balance. Xi cursed under her breath when the new angle cause him to rub directly against her clit.

“Teyam,” she called, cupping his face as he continued their rhythm. “Do what you need to do okay?”

“Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips.

With an animalistic growl he was leaning her backwards and bending forward to suck a nipple into his mouth. One of his hands reached down to release the cords on his loincloth and toss the material away.

Xi wanted nothing more than to pushed him back and stare at his bare form all day, but he was in control right now.

“Ah- fuck,” she hissed when he bit her breast a little to hard. All was forgotten however when he was suddenly rubbing her directly along his velvety, bare shaft. “Oh Eywa!” she mewled.

“Fuck Xilä,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck as he worked her hips against his.

He felt hard, thick and smooth as he dragged his ridiculous length along her slit with deep strokes, from base to tip.

Xilä clung to him in desperation. She tried her best to catch a glimpse of the squelching mess between them, she could feel him smearing droplets of his seed.

Neteyam had tried his best to hold out as long as he could- he really did, but it was fucking difficult. Dragging her in for a biting kiss, his rhythm became erratic as he spiraled.

“Shit, I’m coming,” he groaned.

“Me to,” she panted, puffs of air hitting his lips.

They both came with cries of, “Oh God! Oh fucking hell Xilä!”

And, “Neteyam! Oh shit, shit, shit!”

Falling back and splayed out on the grass as they caught their breaths, they both grinned with little giggles of laughter, staring into each other’s eyes.

It was obvious they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves, their matching grins seemed almost permanent.

Xilä’s hand accidentally brushed the splatter of come on her stomach. Leaning up on an arm, she swirled her pointer finger through the mess in fascination.

Popping it in to her mouth, her tail did it’s usual happy wag whenever she had something yummy.

Neteyam gawked when she suddenly began to wipe and suck, more of his seed. Humming as if she were having the tastiest meal.

She froze with a finger in her mouth when she caught his stare. “What?” she mumbled, turning shy.

He shook his head with a wild smile. “Having a good time there?” he teased.

She blushed but rolled her eyes fondly. “I like it. Can I taste it from there next time?” she asked frankly, gesturing to his shaft.

His jaw dropped a little and he felt himself twitching at the thought. “Um, sure. If you want to.”

“I want to,” she said eagerly. “And can I try the hand job too?”

That had Neteyam choking on his saliva. He sat up and stared down at her.

“Xi…baby, please don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just being curious….but ah- have you been with someone before? Maybe back at Li’ona?”

She grinned. He looked a little jealous right now honestly. “Are you wondering why I know what a hand job is?”

He looked away with slightly purple tinged cheeks. “Maybe,” he said simply.

She sat up and straddled a propped up thick thigh. “It’s only ever been you, ‘Teyam,” she said, cupping his jaw. “I asked D’avi to educate me on a few things when we’d been fooling around for a while.”

“Oh. You can ask me from now on alright? I like it when you do,” he admitted honestly.

“Okay,” she agreed, leaning in to accept his peck.

“We are definitely going to have to clean up before heading back. Sweetheart, you reek of me,” he grinned, sniffing at her neck before making her squeal when he playfully bit her.

When Neteyam and Xi returned to Camp later that afternoon, he first made his way to the training grounds to check in on his trainee warriors.

After wrapping up a few more of his responsibilities, he popped home to use the private spring behind their tent, happy no one was home at the time to smell him.

A few of his team members had given him odd looks during his short meeting with them. He knew he still had Xi’s sweet scent all over him.

Grinning like an idiot when his mind wandered to his pretty wife to be as he cleaned up, he remembered their time spent together that day. They had used the little pool of water to somewhat clean up after a few more rounds of orgasms. Suffice to say it wasn’t enough.

He was truly the luckiest man alive he thought.

Neteyam redressed in only a clean loincloth rather than all his other articles, he’d be going straight to Xi’s later on anyway.

When he entered the main room again, he noticed his mother and youngest sister were home now. They were giggling and looked to be enjoying themselves as they played with a few of Tuk’s dolls.

“Tuk,” he called, squeezing water from his hair with a clean drying cloth towel.

The little one turned her back on him, dropping the doll she’d been playing with to fold her arms with a grumpy pout.

Shit, she was still mad at him.

His mother shot him a look from her relaxed position. Looks like this was his battle to fight.

“Tuktirey,” he tried again, crouching to her level. “I’m sorry baby sis, I was a real jerk this morning and you have every right to be mad……I promise I’ll make it up to you, however you like.”

She side eyed him, peaking in interest. “You have to say you’re sorry again,” she said with a sudden fiery glare.

“I’m really really really sorry, Tuk,” he said earnestly.

“And you have to take me for a ride on Buddy,” she continued.

“Done. Deal,” he agreed, reaching out to shake on it, but she ignored his outstretched arm.

“My friend Täylley wants a ride too,” she bartered. “And we want tricks…not a smooth, careful ride.”

He hid his pained sigh. “One trick only.”

“Five,” she frowned.

“One.”

“Four.”

“One, Tuk.”

“Two?”

“Fine, two and no more. Now come on, let’s shake on it.”

She grinned and jumped up to leap into his arms instead.

Neytiri smiled fondly at her children, she enjoyed moments like these. Neteyam shot her an apologetic expression over Tuk’s head and she nodded to let him know it was fine and that all was forgiven.

“Hey mom, where’s dad at?” he asked as Tuk settled comfortably in his lap, shoving a doll in his hand with the intention for them to play.

“He is meeting with the council. They are reviewing the extension plans again.”

Before he could respond however, Tuk was quickly capturing his attention again.

“Here Teyam, I’m the mommy and you're the baby. You have to pretend to be sick so Tsahìk can come and heal you. Mommy, you be Tsahìk this time,” the six year old said quite bossily as she swapped and handed out the dolls accordingly.

The conference tent was probably the grandest one in all of the others of their village- including the Sully’s home. Its canvased exterior was a deep blood red, carefully dyed and woven by a team of the clan’s best weavers and seamstresses.

Neteyam stared at it as he stayed hidden in the shadows of the night. He was patiently waiting for all the council members to trickle out. He knew his father always stayed behind to review his notes, or simply contemplate- take a break away from everything.

The Olo'eyktan and the council utilized the tent on a daily basis, and so the interior was decorated just as grand as the outside. It was one massive room unlike other tents which were usually sectioned off into smaller rooms.

Jake had had a well crafted, massive, high table built and installed in the center, which was surrounded by wooden chairs with upholstered leather seats and backs. It had taken the other members some getting used to at first, but they quickly adapted to the use of high chairs.

The room was well lit and tastefully decorated. Maps, plans, holographic tablets, little bowls of nuts, seeds and dried fruit, all littered the surface of the table.

Jake Sully sat at the head of the oval shaped table, peering over what looked like blueprints with a frown on his face.

Knocking on a wooden beam, Neteyam announced his presence. “Sir.”

“Hey,” his father greeted, eyes flickering to give him a once over. “You alright? Gwuyle said you had an emergency this morning.”

“Hm? Oh yeah, right. It’s all sorted,” Neteyam assured, momentarily forgetting he’d left in the middle of a team review.

Jake shot him a knowing look, tinged with amusement. “Xilä’s, okay?”

Brain short circuiting for a second Neteyam huffed a little breath of air and rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. “She is, yes. How’d you know?”

His father simply shrugged. “I have eyes, son.”

Neteyam made his way over and took the seat adjacent to Jake. “She’s actually why I’m here. I- um. I wanted you to be the first to know but ah- I’ve made my decision, Sir,” he revealed, heart thumping in anticipation of his father’s response.

Jake, understanding his words, didn’t seem shocked at all. If anything he simply asked, “Does she make you happy?”

“Unbelievably,” Neteyam replied with a little laugh.

“And you love each other? You’re both sure about this step?”

“Yes,” he said without pause.

A smile broke out on the Olo'eyktan’s face. “Then that’s all that matters.”

“That’s it? And…you’re fine with who I chose?”

“It’s not my choice son, it’s yours, but if you’re asking if I approve, then hell yeah. Xi will be happily welcomed in our family. I like her. I like her for you, honestly.”

“Yeah?” Neteyam asked with his own growing grin to match his father's. It turned into a frown just as quickly however. “Dad. I’m a little worried about T'shteyo, though.”

“What about him? This is good. If it weren’t for Xilä still being tied to him, I’d have had his ass kicked out of here a long time ago,” Jake said in frustration.

“He is still acting out?” Neteyam frowned. He had been avoiding the man like the plague, purposely staying out of any gossip topics surrounding him too.

“Acting out is a joke. The asshole keeps picking fights for no goddamn reason and he’s stirring up shit with some of the unmated women. How they could possibly sleep with a man like him baffles me….I want him gone.”

Jake took a sip of the fermented fruit wine he usually kept stashed before offering some to his son. “When are you and Xi thinking of completing the bonding ceremony?”

“Soon,” Neteyam responded. “I want her to focus on completing her rites first.”

Jake nodded in agreement.

“Sir, I don’t want this getting back to T'shteyo just yet. He’s going to know he’s about to lose the only thing keeping him here still and I don’t need him lashing out or trying to get to Xi……I need your permission to bypass the rules of getting his approval. I’m going to still have to ask Jxo and Sal of course, but- bindingly, she’s still his daughter.”

Jake thought for a couple of seconds. “I don’t see why not. It’s fine with me. We’ll take it to the council under an oath of secrecy until then and we’ll just have to make sure both families keep their mouths shut.”

Neteyam smiled in relief. “I appreciate your help in all of this. Really, dad.”

“Of course....Neteyam I am so happy for you, son…God, look at you, you’re all grown up,” he said, staring at his son in slight disbelief. “.....Shit, you’re going to me all emotional now.”

They both laughed at that, shaking their heads at Jake’s theatrics.

“Just wait till your mother finds out, fair warning.”

Neteyam groaned as he slumped back in his seat, palm falling over his eyes. “Oh Eywa, she’s not the only one I’m worried about. Between grandmother, Salveen, D’avi and Kiri, I’m going to have a fucking riot on my hands. Oh God and then there’s Tuk.”

“Yeah I don’t envy you right now,” his father joked, allowing him his slip of a curse word.

Getting to his feet, he said, “Alright I’m going to head out. Don’t stay too late, you know mom will come get you.”

“Yeah yeah and don’t come crying to me when Jxo tries to kill you,” Jake taunted, causing his son to freeze. “Oh you didn’t think I’d notice you missing from your room almost every night? You didn’t think I’d have an inkling as to where you might possibly be sneaking off too?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Neteyam tilted his head to hide his sudden blush, giving a fake cough to cover up the embarrassment he was feeling at having his father know what he’d been up to.

“Um- yeah, Jxo and I kind of have an understanding I guess,” he said sheepishly.

Jake’s ears twitched in interest. “And that is…?”

“If I don’t get caught, I don’t get killed.”

A bark of laughter echoed around the tent. “Well alright then.” He shook his head, “I am so not looking forward to when idiots start coming around Kiri and Tuk.”

“Dad,” Neteyam said seriously, because it was a fucking scary thought.

“Let’s just hope they’re not as good a sneak as you, yeah?” Jake joked again, somewhat seriously.

“Gee thanks dad,” he said sarcastically, making his way to the exit.

“Son,” Jake called before he left. “All jokes aside, thanks for telling me the good news. I’m proud of you and again, I’m happy for you, truly,” he said sincerely, getting to his own feet, to close the distance and give his son a fatherly hug. “I’m looking forward to officially meeting my daughter in law.”

Neteyam cleared his throat under the guise of feeling emotional. He patted his father back, returning the affection. “Thanks dad. For everything.”

Sneaking into Xi’s room went without a hitch. Neteyam considered himself a pro by now- his dad was right it seemed. He hoped to goodness no idiot like him came around his sisters. He quickly shook off the thought.

Xi was still up, despite the late hour- practising her sewing skills on what looked like a new craft in her hands.

Sewing was Salveen’s pastime hobby, so it was no surprise to him when Xi asked the elder to teach her the skill. She had subtly mentioned her interest a few times, so he’d given her the nudge to try it out herself.

Despite the clearly sleepy look on her face, she beamed at him when he entered the dimly lit room.

“Hi,” she whispered, setting aside her project- tail wagging at the sight of him as she scooted to make room for him.

“Hi sweetheart,” he murmured softly, crashing onto her bed and immediately tugging her into his arms. He nuzzled her neck with a deep inhale. “You smell delicious,” he commented.

“Spider let me use the hot water back at the labs for fun. They’ve got weird things like shower gel and shampoo instead of soapnut balm or bark, but I like it. Apparently they brought enough with them from Earth to last them a few decades. And they have an indoor waterfall that they can control, too. It can turn hot or cold or even in between,” she said in wonderment as she stroked his slightly damp braids. “The human lady, Casey, even showed me how to dry my hair with her blow dryer device.”

“That was nice of her. How’d you end up back there? I thought you and Kiri were going to the hot springs,” he asked, pulling back to see her face.

“We were but we took a detour and then Spider ended up showing us their updated dorm showers. It shoots jets now…but I didn’t like it with the jets though,” she said with a little scrunched up nose.

He smiled in response, pressing a tiny kiss to the tip of her nose- one large hand sailing up her stomach to tuck into her top.

“They know by the way,” she said hesitantly. “Kiri was all grossed out because apparently I stunk of you, her words, not mine.”

“They would’ve found out soon anyway. I just hope they keep their mouths shut.”

“Yeah, they promised not to say anything. They are happy for us. Kiri says we will be sisters now,” Xi said happily.

“Yes. And you will be my wife,” he grinned. “Any regrets yet?” he teased. “I should probably give you the lowdown on what exactly you signed yourself up for.”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed, pretending to think about it. “Nope. Like Tuk says, no take backs. You are going to be stuck with me I’m afraid. I don’t think anything you throw my way will change my mind.”

“Damn,” he muttered in faux disappointment. “I guess you’re right….I’m going to be stuck with you for good,” he said, breaking character with an infectious grin, leaning down to kiss her.

Her palm slid from his neck to cup his face, while he rolled on top of her completely, pulling her thigh up his hip.

“You taste sweet,” she said, licking her lips as if trying to figure out what he tasted like.

“I had a little fermented fruit wine earlier.”

“Oh, l like it,” she replied, serging up for another taste, sighing pleasurably when he licked his way into her mouth.

The kiss was broken when she pulled away to yawn, causing him to do the same.

“Tell me a story, please?” she asked sweetly, settling in against her sheets a bit more, hooking her ankle over the inside of his thigh.

He smiled at her request. She was always asking about his childhood and the life he lived as an adolescent.

At first when she began asking, he’d ask her to tell him something back about her own, but then he’d feel guilty because his were all good, fun, happy memories, while hers weren't.

When he expressed his guilty feeling to her, she told him his stories made her happy, it was her own little way at reliving her childhood- her innocent rewrite and escape. And so from then on he indulged her whenever she asked.

“Hmmm, alright let’s see...Oh I know a little one. So this one time- or should I say the first time Lo’ak decided to run away from home-”

Xilä muffled a laugh behind her palm. “Wait, how old was he?”

“Three, four maybe? I was five at the time I think, but yeah he had thrown this massive tantrum and got put in time out as punishment.”

He paused quickly to explain to Xi what time out meant before continuing.

“So he packed up his shit- or should I say his toys, announced he was running away and went all the way to Sal and Jxo’s…who were right next door at the time,” he said with a chuckle, making Xi laugh too.

“Anyway my parents hadn’t noticed he'd left. But I did, I noticed…So I grabbed my little practice bow, and I headed out as if it were some far land I had to venture to find my long lost missing brother,” he said with an eye roll as if he couldn’t believe himself.

Xi stifled another giggle.

“When I got there Sal was eagerly doting on him, feeding him the biggest fruit sweets I’d ever seen, pinching his cheeks and calling him handsome- it’s stupid, but I thought, this is amazing, I want that too. So I decided I was going to run away from home as well...We got busted not even five minutes after that,” he snorted.

“I remember when I first met Salveen, she said you two were always running away to her home,” she laughed.

“It was fun....But that first time though, mom was all worried and crying, hugging us as if we’d been gone for years.”

“You two are her babies,” Xi said softly.

Noticing her expression, he couldn’t help but ask, “Do you want? Kids, I mean.”

“Oh, um. Yes…but-” she frowned. “‘Teyam, I didn’t have a very good mother, I don’t know if I’ll be any good at motherhood.”

“Screw her,” he said seriously. “You’ve got the most amazing mothers around you to help you through anything. Sal, D’avi, my mom, my grandmother and you’ve got me. We’ll figure it out together- when the time comes of course. There’s no rush and no pressure. Okay?”

“Okay,” she croaked, feeling a tiny bubble of emotion loge in her throat. This was one of the many reasons why she loved him. He never let her think negatively about herself- he was her biggest supporter. “I love you,” she said seriously.

His expression melted. “I love you,” he replied in equal honesty.

They laid there for another hour, whispering about their future, sharing ridiculous stories while they tried to stifle their giggles. Like a maddening force, they soon found themselves in a heated make out session that had Neteyam quite amused.

Xi was going down for the count- she was tired and fighting sleep. He counted three yawns in the last few minutes he’d been feasting on the skin of her neck. She lazily dragged him back to her mouth- tongue pushing through the barrier of his lips.

“Mm, okay. Bedtime,” he said, breaking their locked lips, far too quickly for her liking.

“What? Why?” she frowned, wiggling a hand between their bodies to reach into his loincloth. “I thought we’d- hey!” she protested loudly when he gripped her wrist, halting her pursuit by pinning her to the sheets.

“Shhh,” he shushed against her lips, nipping her bottom lip lightly. He waited a beat, one highly trained ear straining to hear if Jxo had heard her outburst, shoulders slumping in relief when it seemed like he hadn’t. “You can’t get me killed just yet baby, I want to marry you, remember?”

She blushed, hearing the human term for the mating ceremony. “Sorry…um can we continue now?” she asked in a hushed whisper, trying to grind on the leg between hers.

He huffed an amused laugh, pressing his thigh against her bare center to give her a little more friction, causing her to moan quietly. “Xilä, you are a greedy little thing, you know that? I made you come five times for the day already. Six, if you count the little one.”

“So?” she snapped, trying to wiggle her wrist free.

“You’re tired Xi. You need to sleep baby.”

“Just one, please?” she pleaded, weaponizing her eyes, to peer up at him through her lashes.

“Fine, but I get to choose how you come, and if you make a single sound I am stopping,” he threatened seriously.

“Yes. Okay,” she agreed, nodding eagerly, tail thumping along his skin, begging him to do something already.

A child was being chased. Hoots and howls echoed behind her as she ran through the night. “Mother! Mother!” she cried out, trying desperately to catch up to the fleeing woman in front of her.

An arm wrapped around the little girl's cloak, yanking her backwards as she flailed and kicked and screamed.

“No! No! Mother! Please don’t go! Don’t leave me mother!”

She fought hard against the hold of the person behind her, eyes locked on the silhouette of her mother heading straight into the Dead Forest.

Not once did she look back. Not once.

“Mother!” she sobbed bitterly, fat tears staining the cloth around her nose and mouth.

The person behind her was far stronger. They dragged her pathetic form by the scruff of her neck. Hot scorching dirt burning her through her cloak covered body. “No! No!”

“NO! Let me go! Let me go!”

“Xilä! Xilä! Wake up sweetheart. Hey hey, you’re safe. You’re fine. Look at me! Eyes, Xilä!”

Xilä’s eyes snapped open, locking on a petrified looking Neteyam. She panted as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She had apparently been pulled into a seated position because over his shoulder she saw Jxo who looked just as scared as she felt.

“Xi, darling,” said a gentle voice.

Turning to her left she saw Salveen crouched right next to her, brushing her sweat slicked hair out of her face, concerned eyes tearing up. “It’s just a dream, alright? You are safe. Say it with me, Xi. I am safe.”

“I am safe,” Xilä echoed in a hoarse whisper, face crumpling in relief. Needing skin to skin comfort, she reached out to Neteyam who instantly pulled her into his lap, folded legs on either side of his.

Face hidden in his chest, her arms wound tight around his waist while he cupped her neck with one palm under her hair, the other rubbing soothingly up and down the span of her back- her tail blindly finding and curling around his.

“Baby,” he breathed against the top of her head, rocking them a little.

Salveen sniffled as she continued to stare at the broken girl in his arms. “That’s the second night in a row,” she rasped.

“What do you mean?” Neteyam frowned, head snapping to her. “She had one yesterday?”

She nodded. “I don’t know what could have triggered it. She came home crying but wouldn’t say what happened. Then she was fine. We didn’t come home until late, but by then you lot had all packed up and left. I don’t know if it’s related.”

Neteyam’s ears flattened to his head. The only thing he knew that happened yesterday was her run in with Leati.

“When was the last time she had one before then?” he asked.

“Not for months,” Jxo answered, stepping forward with his arms folded to have a closer look at Xi. “Probably not since the first few weeks she moved in.”

“That’s right,” his wife agreed. “Tsahìk usually checked in regularly until they stopped- they still have their sessions of course which we thought has been helping.”

When Xilä stayed that first month with his grandmother, almost every night she suffered from terrible terrible nightmares. It was a side effect from her past trauma apparently.

After he asked Sal and Jxo to take her in, Mo’at had sat all three of them down- along with his father who wanted to be present, to discuss Xi’s wellbeing. Her healing was not a one and done deal she’d told them. It would be a long mental and emotional journey.

Mo’at had coached them through certain scenarios and how to help Xi through them. They were all willing and ready to take on active roles in her healing process.

Xi also had weekly sessions with the healer since then, where they’d talk through her past- helping Xi to open up and face old wounds embedded deep within her.

“What are you doing here by the way?” Salveen asked him finally, scrutinizing the way he held her adoptive daughter. “Why did you call her baby?”

When she and Jxo had run over after being awoken by Xi’s cries, Neteyam’s presence hadn’t even registered to her. She was too focused on Xilä’s petrified state.

Neteyam swallowed and looked down at Xi’s now sleeping face- her cheek stuck flush against his chest.

Jxo rolled his eyes and answered for him. “The skxawng has been sneaking in almost every night, Sal.”

Salveen’s eyes widened when she realized what he was insinuating. “Wait- are you two...?” Her pointer finger moved from Neteyam to Xilä. “And you KNEW?” she hissed at her husband, pointing at him accusingly. “You didn’t even say anything! How long have you been hiding this from me?!” she whisper-yelled as not to wake Xilä.

Neteyam watched amused as the big, gruff Jxo spluttered, pointed ears falling low while he tried to explain himself.

“What exactly are your intentions, young man?” she snapped, cutting off her husband to zero in on Neteyam again. “I will not have you trapezing in and out of here whenever you feel like it. Xilä is not some-”

“I would like to have her as my mate,” he said, cutting off the elder’s ramble.

Both Jxo and Salveen stared at him in shock.

“It’s um- well for one, this is not exactly how I wanted to ask for permission,” he joked mildly, titling Xi down a little, so that she nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm- he didn’t want to put her down just yet.

He sent a quick prayer of thanks to Eywa that they were both dressed when the two elders came rushing in because the glare Jxo was shooting at him right now would have had anyone else quivering. He knew if he were naked, it would have only made matters worse.

“Jxo, Sal. I’m in love with Xilä,” he admitted sincerely. “I want to build a future with her. I want to take care of her and I want to love her for the rest of my life.”

Sal’s fingertips covered her lips, tears springing in her eyes while Jxo’s face relaxed somewhat.

“If you could grant me your permission, I would forever be grateful,” Neteyam finished, his gaze darting back and forth between the two of them.

“Oh, ‘Teyam,” Sal sighed out, as if it were the most romantic speech she’d ever heard.

Jxo cleared his throat, avoiding Neteyam’s earnest expression. “I want to talk to Xilä first, before I give my blessing.”

“That’s fair,” Neteyam agreed, taming his smile when he noticed the man trying to hide his own emotions.

“Come on Sal…let’s, let them rest,” the gruff elder said somewhat hesitantly.

“But- but he just confessed his love and-”

“I know, I know darling, but it’s late and we all need rest,” he said gently, helping his mate to her feet. “Eywa knows I’ll need it to have to deal with all this in the morning,” he grouched.

“Alright. Goodnight dear,” she bid to the young Na’vi while being guided out of the room.

“Night, Sal.”

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” Jxo warned in an undertone. “….And make sure she’s alright,” he said somewhat softer before leaving them alone.

What do we think.....?

So, this chapter honestly was not planned at all. What is now Part 10 was supposed to be Part 9, but my writing kind of ran away with me and Boom, now this part is here.

It was getting a bit too long, so the ending continues in the next part.

If you're wondering, and little spoiler alert, her asshole father is back in Part 10. So some drama to come.

Also I'm realizing that this fic may turn out a bit longer than expected.

Anywhoooo, as always, please share your thoughts in the comments, I love hearing from you all :)

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