#it's the choice to execute these plot points now

[shallowseeker]

Okay, and so. Building on this. With Lucifer. He COVETS Jack. He wants his son, right up until the bitter end, I think!

In 13x23, when Jack "broke Lucifer's heart" (per Nick in 14x17), Lucifer ROARS in dismay.

Lucifer does care... kinda. He wants Jack to be the balm to the nihilism and meaningless that he struggled with way back in season 11.

Lucifer's solution for being better than Chuck? Is not to leave Jack.

He feels like his dogged determination to cross worlds to get to Jack will earn him love. (Per his own words in 12x07, he "needs" love.) He expects Jack to see the stars with him, to be closer to Lucifer's angel-oriented morality than Jack's human-oriented one.

Jack was supposed to be the thing that gave Lucifer's life new meaning and purpose.

LUCIFER: Your sons have my boy. So I’m gonna exchange you for my son. MARY: (baffled) You can’t possibly care about raising a child. LUCIFER: Oh, you have no idea what I care about.

13x02

//

It's the opposite of Chuck's neuroses in some ways... Lucifer is clinging extra hard to his family, deriving narcissistic supply from that family.

And... he is jealous of the family Jack chooses to elevate over him.

(Important note: Chuck showed a flash of this fury with Lucifer too, letting slip in season 11 how angry he was when Lucifer "plotted to replace him with the angels.")

//

ANYHOO. When Jack rejects Lucifer, Lucifer covets Jack. He immediately starts showing a, "If I can't have him, no one will" mentality. (Which is, interestingly, a callback to Heaven/Miriam in 13x01 right after Jack was born: "If we can't have him, no one will!" as she stabs Jack with her angel blade, right in the heart.)

Here, Lucifer takes Jack's grace, and then he spirits Jack away to a church. When Sam hangs on for the ride, Lucifer turns his hate on Sam.

Lucifer wants to kill Sam because Jack loves Sam instead of Lucifer.

LUCIFER: Wow, Daddy Sammy coming to the rescue. But your little Jackie, the nougat-loving boy that you had before, he's killed people. He's got lots of blood on his hands. SAM (standing): I don't care. He's family. LUCIFER: Ha! What's family done for anybody? My dad left me. My brothers tried to kill me. A lot. Family blows. And I'm gonna prove it to you. SAM: What, by killing me? Go ahead. LUCIFER: No, I'm not gonna kill you. He is. (pointing to Jack)

Lucifer wanted to be Jack's dad. And all these people keep getting in the way. It's as Rowena said:

ROWENA (13x21): The heartfelt family reunion of Sam, Dean, Cas, Mary, and your very own son Jack. That's right. Your wee boy's over there, and he'll be so glad to see his three fathers. Of course, as far as he's concerned, they are his father. And you? You're nothing to him. Or me. Or anyone now. Nothing.

///

And no surprise: the enviers want to kill the persons they're jealous of.

(Aside/// This might play into how Lucifer killed Cas in 12x23; Kelly and the infant Jack had chosen Cas over him; Cas had stolen Lucifer's destiny!)

It's like how The Empty wanted to hurt/take Jack ("I'm taking HIM. And where we're going, it's worse than Hell! —snicker— Oh, look at them they're SCARED!") It's also... like how Chuck wanted to kill Jack.

CHUCK: (Sighs) Uh, whatever happens to the person you're aiming at also happens to you. So you kill him...

//

But to have the object of your spurned affections be the one to do it? Well. Sometimes, that's even better.

LUCIFER: Now I could -- I probably should -- execute you. I mean, really, really use my imagination. But I'm feeling generous today. So one of you is gonna walk out that door, and the other one will be laying dead on the ground. You choose.

13x23

((((Aside// I love that Lucifer, like Chuck, is forcing them into a no-win situation and FRAMING it as choice. Insanely diabolical, but must feel good for him the one to be driving the trial this time: ("another one of dad's tests?"))))

///

CHUCK: No. Pick it up! Pick it up. Pick up the gun. ... Okay, Dean, no offense, but your brother is stupid and crazy. And that kid is still dangerous. So pick up the gun. Pick it up... pull the trigger... and I'll bring her back.

14x20

Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.

[pragmatic-optimist]

You know...

The vague posting and reblogs in the LS fandom aimed at invalidating people and their thoughtful and specific critiques about aspects of season 4 are a Choice™️.

How about having a little empathy for the folks who are disappointed and managing their sadness? What about constructive discourse and concrete explanations about how you think the writing holds up rather than dismissing those who don’t agree? Because it's not a few of us with these thoughts, there are many of us. 

I don't know if y'all have noticed, but this fandom has lost a lot of content creators in the last year (especially in the last 3 months) because the inspiration in canon is lacking. It's not a matter of folks being unable to differentiate between fanon and canon. As an individual who can analyze and think critically about the media I'm consuming, I can respect when canon tells me something different from a headcanon—especially when the execution is sound—and many others who feel a certain way about this season are able to do so as well. 

I really don’t care about convincing anyone of anything. If this season works for you, it works for you. Keep on keeping on. What is upsetting is seeing how the disagreement over the direction of season 4 for certain characters has led to attempts at gatekeeping and discrediting people who dare to voice a critique on their blog.

If the only way to justify your disagreeing stance is to criticize people and question their ability to be objective thinkers, you’re standing on shaky ground.

[lemonhemlock]

the reason why i don't think blood & cheese works without maelor is because it undermines the gravity of helaena's choice

in the books, as we all know, she has to choose which son to sacrifice. blood & cheese are going to kill one either way, so, whatever happens, if you want to get cynical about it, aegon will still be left with a male heir of his body. no, the horribleness of the choice lies not really in dynastic matters, but in basic humanity: which of your children are you willing to condemn to death? and helaena truly does try to make the best out of a bad situation, she picks not because she loves jaehaerys more, but because maelor is so tiny that she hopes he won't understand what's going to happen to him.

and she absolutely has to choose, because b&c threaten to rape her daughter if she doesn't. it's psychological torture. b&c just want to fuck her up in the head as much as possible and helaena tries her goddamnest to minimize the harm done to her family. to further compound on the tragedy, b&c kill the opposite child, so now she has to live out the rest of her days knowing that the son left alive is the son SHE herself marked for the axe. which is what understandably drives her to lose her mind

now, in the show, the "problem" blood & cheese have doesn't exist at all: that they can't supposedly tell the twins apart. but (as awful as it sounds, since it involves sexual assault) they could very easily check which child has male genitalia and be done with it. it's a "problem" that takes literal seconds to solve. they don't need helaena at all! it becomes irrelevant which child she points towards - b&c can always just check! she can't save jaehaerys in this situation no matter what she does, because b&c were never interested in jaehaera in the first place. in the books, she has the ability to save one child and this exact horrible "agency" bestowed on her torments her for the rest of her days. in the show, even had she pointed towards jaehaera, it would have been a narrative plot hole for the writers to have killed her without checking

likewise, in the books, she begs them to kill her instead, but, in the show, she offers them a necklace? you can't deny that the dramatic stakes are lowered substantially by making that change. which one of these options would have been more filled with pathos? personally, it just feels like this was phia's moment to shine and, while she did a good job with what she had, every narrative choice was somehow made to subdue this horrible event and left her only crumbs to work with. cinematically-speaking, this scene (as it was executed) does not even come close to the iconic moments that cemented GoT into the collective consciousness, which is very strange, as the subject matter is anything but mediocre

and that's not even getting into the rest of the plot holes that others have already pointed out, like:

- why are there no guards at helaena's door or anywhere else for that matter? not just on that hallway, but on many other hallways, she has to run quite a lot to get to alicent's chambers

- why is her room unlocked at the very least

- why is ALICENT's room unlocked, for that matter? she is having secret guilty sex with criston and she forgets to lock her door in a castle full of spies? anyone could have walked in

- not even getting into this whole thing just being one huge misunderstanding + minimizing daemon's and mysaria's roles :))

- NOT EVEN mentioning removing the trauma of alicent witnessing all of this, gagged and bound on her own bed, not being able to help or intervene in any way

i can understand the likelihood of these elements happening sometimes (maybe someone does forget to lock their door from time to time, maybe a guard does shirk their duties from time to time), but you can't write all of them at once without it turning all looney tunes. if you introduce too many aspects that defy logic in your story, it ceases to be believable and just becomes bad writing

___________________________________________

also, "they killed <the boy>"? not "my son" or "jaehaerys"? it sounds so removed, don't you think? helaena out there on her mother's floor dropping exposition for the audience 🥲

[sunderwight]

SV Game of Thrones AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into a character who is basically Joffrey Lannister.

Luo Binghe is a mix of all the Stark kids, but mostly Sansa Stark and Jon Snow. Su Xiyan and Tianlang Jun had a Rhaegar-and-Lyanna thing going on, and Binghe's adopted mother was Su Xiyan's older cousin, who took him in after the fact and had him legitimized because she was the only remaining heir and had no other kids.

In the original story, King Shen Qingqiu (Jiu) develops a suspicion about Luo Binghe's heritage and, being just as paranoid about Heavenly Demons as Robert Baratheon was about Targaryens, invites the Luo family to come to court. Ostensibly so that Binghe can be playmates with the king's son and heir (Shen Yuan). Binghe's mom is horribly worried that they've been found out, but has not choice but to accept the invitation.

Of course, OG Prince Shen Yuan was a rotten little sadist who made it his life's mission to torment Luo Binghe, was eventually revealed to be the bastard spawn of Queen Qiu Haitang and her own brother, executed Binghe's mom for alleged treason, is party to the slaughter of the noble Liu family, and is eventually gruesomely assassinated at his own wedding feast.

Shen Yuan himself doesn't want to torment Binghe, or slaughter anyone, start any wars, or of course be gruesomely assassinated at his own wedding feast. He would much rather live his cushy life as a crown prince, figure out how to administrate a kingdom properly and also implement some better waste management practices to reduce the awful city stench (like, Shen Yuan was never terribly interested in plumbing in his first life but he is absolutely invested in the subject now.)

The problem is that the System absolutely demands that there be a war and certain other plot points in order to propel Luo Binghe into some sort of narrative destiny. Shen Yuan's not sure why because the last time he checked, the book series was stalled with Luo Binghe seemingly dead, and the television series had basically rendered everything he'd done pointless by the end, but regardless the System won't just let him peacefully evade all the drama and spare Luo Binghe all the suffering.

Boo.

Plus there's the concerning matter of the Northern Demon King awakening and mustering armies to conquer the south (and getting derailed by the beleaguered quartermaster of the Nightswatch, who keeps wondering when the fuck the actual protagonist is going to show up to handle the increasingly concerning plot points, because Binghe should have been exiled by now...?), Zhuzhi Lang resurrecting his uncle (as a dragon?!) across the Narrow Sea, and the Qiu family plotting the murder of the king and a coup to seize power...

(Also featuring: Yue Qingyuan as the parts of Jaime Lannister's character not currently owned by Qiu Jianluo, the Huan Hua Palace Master as a Littlefinger proxy, Meng Mo as Bloodraven, and many more!)

[digitalagepulao]

My sincere Black Myth: Wukong review

Full disclosure! This is from a recent but earnest fan of JTTW as the original novel, as well as all the social, cultural and religious layers of it. I've seen my fair share of adaptations and derivative media, from shlocky to silly to grimdark to cutesy. I'm a bachelor in visual arts, with an interest in the field of game development since high school. I am also, white and brazillian, and have talked with other jttw fans, both Chinese and not, on this game. If any of these are for some reason motive to not read further, then fair enough. Hope you have fun and continue to enjoy the game, do not let me or my opinion stop you!

Now to the review proper <3

First things first, let the obvious not remain unsaid. This game, is supremely gorgeous. In every sense of the word, and I mean this fully, it's a work of art. The sound design, the character concepts and execution, the animations, the voice acting, the visual effects, the UI design, the cinematography, the 3D scanning of actual historical artofacts and heritage sites throughout China, and everything beyond and between, are phenomenal, full stop.

This was never a debate, I'm sure, but I don't think I can in good conscience not praise them for their work. It's no news that Asian talent, not just in China either, have been often hired to supplement projects on the West, and we can all agree it's about time they got to shine in their own AAA project. My issues with the international game industry notwithstanding, I hope this brings some much needed acknowledgment and appreciation for Chinese culture and arts, both traditional and modern!

Now, from this point on, THERE WILL BE SPOILERS, so proceed with caution!

(word count: +1.8k)

I also deeply enjoy their choices in arcs to revisit. Some like the Flaming Mountain arc are classic picks to adapt but still a very good match to the whole Six Senses throughline. I don't think you can do a JTTW 2 electric bogaloo without bringing up Niumowang and his family in some way (um, put a pin on that), but the other arcs like Yellowbrow or Black Wind Mountain aren't as explored imo, so it's nice to see them being given a bit of a spotlight.

(speaking of the Yellow Ridge arc, whoever made the executive decision of Lingji Bodhisattva being a Xaanxi singer is, genius!!)

I'm also kind of in love?? with Bajie's design and role in the story overall?? Gameplay wise he sticks around just enough to not feel lonely, but not too long to be a nuisance or overstay his welcome. He's no Atreus (GoW) or Ellie (TLoU) of course, but he doesn't need to be, and most importantly, he isn't trying to be, which I feel is admirable of the devs. Given the visible inspirations from the recent God of War games, it would have been easy to lean a bit too hard on it, but I'm glad they didn't overreach.

Him having a more complex love life is also a nice touch imo. It explores more his womanizer ways in an interesting way, and I appreciate it. I love when people complicate the pig! Also, the way he treats Xiaosheng (Destined One) like a nephew?? The scene on the Huaguoshan throne??? I'M GONNA CRY!!!

I think, I've run out of positive things to say.... time for the spicy takes.

I, kind of detest the premise by default. I'm not a big fan of "Superman is Dead" plots, cus it's usually either done for shock value, or taken so lightly that the weight is totally lost. I have such a love-hate situationship with the introduction cutscene because of this. On one hand, it's phenomenal cinema, and seeing Wukong stand up to the Heavenly armies in glorious 4K high fidelity graphics is delicious. On the other hand, the whole debate they are having has me going "?????", not because I don't get it but just, why?? Why did this have to be the premise?? (put another pin on that)

Also the set up and call to adventure is kind of blergh.

Now is as good a time as any to talk about the gameplay. It's, okay. If you enjoy trying to figure out the most stylish combos, or to mash buttons, then you'll definitely have fun. I was sorely disappointed that I pretty much have been going through the bosses rather easily. Chapter 1 it was mostly the struggle of learning the controls, but I never stuck to a boss for longer than seven tries (Whiteclad Noble, the snakeman that you are). Chapter 2 I only struggled on Tiger Vanguard, because I was sorely underleveled and had missed a pathway to explore before him. After that I second tried him. Chapter 3, I have and I'm not joking, gotten halfway through first or second trying every boss.

Mind you, this is not being some godtier gamer or whatever, I'm pretty average and only a recent player of soulslike games too (maybe playing Lies of P made too OP, but I sincerely doubt it lol). No, this is me saying that if you do explore the game and not rush through it, you won't struggle nearly as much as some people have and still are. Most of the final chapter bosses can be trivialized with the chapter's Obsession Realm gimmick artifact, which isn't in itself a bad thing, just feels like an odd choice personally.

Which leads me to, the level design. So far? Preeeeetty lame! It's very pretty and fancy, but so chockful of invisible walls that it feels stiffling and discourages exploration. I can never tell what is meant to be a path or just fancy scenery, and I never know when a jump will get walled or send me to my death by fall damage. When it's not being confusing, the level design is either a bunch of looping circles, or straight lines. And so far, besides a few interactables and loot, there is not much else to look at. That is, bad level design, plain and simple.

Also, the animations are glorious, but what is the point if I can't see the enemy?? That camera is my true nemesis, and I mean that. the fact that a boss can be beyond my field of vision at ANY POINT when I'm locked on and it strifes sideways, is dreadful. GameScience, FIX IT. It is also, very hard to tell what parts of a boss will damage me if I collide with them or not. The Kang-Jin Long fight was baffling on a design point of view, same for Captain Lotus-Vision. Some clearer hitboxes would be swell.

This is the point where I say my main issue with the game lies: it's very pretty, and adoringly crafted, but it lacks substance design wise. I feel like it needed to cook more, the level design polished more so I wouldn't get lost every five minutes, and clearer.... well, everything. Mechanic explanations, level progression, gimmicks, etc. It all needed to be less murky and convoluted to understand.

It also needed more meat in between bosses. I have yet to run into common enemies that give me actual trouble, so it ends up being just a jolly waltz from boss to boss. Boss rushes are fun and great, but not as the base game experience (for me at least). I had to stop one boss away from completing Chapter 1 cus I was just so exhausted. And I had been playing for like, an hour and a half?? That left a sour taste in my mouth, I'll be honest.

Okay, I'm gonna pick open those pins now.

#1 the Flaming Mountain Arc. I'm gonna be very real here chat, that was so cringe. What do you MEAN, Red Son wasn't Demon Bull King's biological son, and Princess Iron Fan was forced to drink from the Childbearing River??? And Red Son hates him????When I watched that cutscene, I had to pause and walk away for a moment, legitimately. This plotbeat is SO WILD to me, I got nothing to say. Just, why??Soooo bizarre. And that the Flaming Mountain Keeper has such a presence in Iron Fan's life is also, weird?? Not bad weird, just Weird, but that's like a nitpick more than an actual criticism. Ping Ping is fine though, I like that Bull has a daughter with Princess Fair Fox, that's cute and interesting. Wish she was in a better plot and adaptation but lol

And #2, the premise. Now we are getting to the meat of it all.

The underlying premise of the whole plot, including the true ending, is flawed by default. The premise runs on what is sometimes called as a "conspiracy theory plot", as in, "what if the gods were bad actually??". It's reddit movie theory content in very short terms, and while it had a place during the 00s grimdark years pre-Marvel, it's become quite a jaded and boring take nowadays. Now you may say that it comes from a genuine desire to show distrust and critique to insitutions and the powers than be, and I can see that.

There is a hiccup in that though.

In JTTW, Wukong is the Mind Monkey because of the religious text and subtext of the stories. Its interwoven in the whole thing, and makes it cohesive. It still offer critique and mockery to institutions, without entirely invalidating their foundations. Not only for genuine fear of prosecution, but because, shockingly, religion and belief is a major component of human society in general. But going back to my point, JTTW is *already* a critique of institutions and the power that be. Adding further layers into it feel like angst and edginess just for the sake of it, and that feels hollow to me.

To go further, this intent also clashes with their own plot. See, they bring up that Wukong's Mind, his Sixth Sense, died. Thus they need another Mind to guide his other senses and reform him, so that he may be reborn.

For one, that is such a convoluted way to do a reincarnation plot, it feels complicated just for novelty sake. Secondly, Wukong being the Mind Monkey, as I said, implies a tie to the underlying themes of the Journey as a person's path to enlightenment. If enlightenment itself is flawed because the gods are flawed/evil, then both themes are clashing. By making a "what if the gods were evil all along" plot while also going by the laws and order of said gods, then what are we even fighting against? What is the point of this whole rebellion between Erlang and Wukong??

my friend @ryin-silverfish said it best a while back, and I'm paraphrasing here (do pitch in or correct me if needed! <3), but the issue with these conspiracy narratives is the inherent anti-religion of them. They don't believe in anything, and thus they cannot properly retell the story of JTTW through a postmodern lense, because they refuse to engage with the religiosity that runs throughout the story.

It also leaves a sour taste in my mouth, because this game will likely be many people's first genuine experience with the JTTW mythos and story, and I tend to be concerned for how much this will "sour the pot" in the conversation. The novels are sadly innacessible enough as it is; the sheer size of them scare many people away, not even to mention the amount of underlying cultural context you'll miss out without proper footnotes and commentary. Most people will not engage with them directly, and certainly not most gamers.

While the narrative of someone embodying Wukong's spirit is not new in itself, I do find that it coexisting with such a poor premise and spin on it will be a sore first experience for new fans, and I can only hope that them meeting fans of the OG novels won't cause much friction in the fandom (we have enough as it is imo).

It also concerns me that, sadly, people and gamers in particular, get too swept up in the ooh-aah beauty of flashy sfx and highly detailed graphics, and fail to notice some of the underlying issues in game design. As I said, this game is a work of art, but it has flaws, and I don't think people are speaking of them enough. No, the issue is not "lack of diversity" or whatever the hell.

It runs deeper than that, and it's an issue I've come to see in recent movies as well. I'm aware it might just be different cultural expectations of the pacing and span of a story, and it may as well be! But I think if there was more care given to the bones of a media, it would bring much needed longevity and weight to these wonderful artworks.

All this said, I wanna see what acolades this game gets and see what the devs are cooking up with the DLCs (they said at one point the game was supposed to have 12 chapters and my god, that game would be TOO LONG. So glad it didn't get like that!), and further more see how this ripples in the eastern game dev scene. While this is a flawed game with a flawed story, it can be the first on a genuinely wonderful wave of new creations, not just by GameScience, and overall I'm hopeful for what might come next!

[aarcanechaoss]

Theory time with Higuchi!

For anyone who wants a good read and some info on Ichiyo (Natsu) Higuchi this Reddit Post was really interesting

I first want to say I have zero evidence or reasoning behind most of this shit specifically the two abilities I’m pulling out of my ass (I do still love my Flowers at Dusk theory don’t get me wrong and a lot of the Growing Pains / Child’s Play theories are beautiful). Again these are for entertainment only I have no bets on these being real LOL

1. Draining / Absorbing

2. Her word is law

Now before I get into these (1,2) I want to bring up an interesting point seen in the Reddit Post I shared.

Specifically the Mori does not punish Higuchi part- and remembering the episodes in particular he really doesn’t. At most he is disappointed in her failure and asks if “she is suited for this job.”

Now this also made me realise (again the Reddit Post mentioned this too I found after reading further) the Command Unit is in direct line to Mori just after Executives.

Meaning she is high ranked overall in the Mafia not just amongst the Black Lizard.

She is Akutagawa’s equal - role wise in the mafia.

Why?

We know she is an ability user (not what the ability is) so is she simply well connected to Mori or is she a Secret Weapon? Or both.

Somehow she had to make it to Commander level even with the lack of respect she receives (until rescuing Akutagawa but even then they still don’t treat her like a leader).

I propose an option that also has no standing or reasoning.

She’s related to the previous boss.

Someone who didn’t have a choice to have anything but a mafioso lifestyle.

A granddaughter or a great niece etc. but let’s go with grandchild for this post- a favoured one at that- which I will get to.

Yes, this would technically mean she’s been in the mafia the longest compared to many characters (Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa etc).

I hear your “Wouldn’t Hirotsu know then?” It’s entirely possible if she is a favoured grandchild the Boss would have only wanted certain people to know about her when she was so young plus it’s not like every grandparent shares a last name with their grandchild (he could be her mother’s father).

It’s also possible if he knew the boss had a grandkid she would have been known as Natsu not Ichiyo at the time (since that is the authors real name).

And we all know I head-cannon that our girl is naturally brunette / raven haired so of course I'm adding in more plot with the name thing. Could be just for fun, maybe it was ordered, maybe it's so the people who did know about Natsu wouldn't point her out (Mori just hiding the nepotism).

In any case if this was how Mori knew her- after digging and of course killing him it’s entirely plausible that he’d 1. Look at it as an opportunity to fuck over the guy even when he’s dead 2. She’s a valuable asset because of it.

By that I mean her family name would hold power eg. she goes by Natsu (boss last name) when Mori needs something that only her family could get him.

Or she’s incredibly powerful and he’d be an idiot to not keep her. Perhaps she hates her power and he keeps that in check- she does what he says and then she doesn’t need to use it / she doesn’t have control - because less control over that means more control over her.

It’s not like she’d be his heir or anything (though that would be a funny fic idea- people trying to fight for the next in line and Mori is just like no I have a replacement it's Higuchi).

Anyway onto my not at all reasonable Ability theories.

1. Draining / Absorbing

This one was originally a "takes abilities" theory- which has absolutely no merit being a theory at all unless for whatever reason Asagiri decides that she and Dazai have been secretly related the whole time.

In the Reddit Post OP theorises that she could paralyse her opponents using her novella Takekurabe (Comparing Heights) with the English titles Growing Up and Child’s Play as the forefront. Though I’ve seen the use of the title Growing Pains instead of Up as well.

Using OP's word's, I don't think Higuchi will have a name-based ability (eg. Beast Beneath the Moonlight or Thou Shalt Not Die) and so for this crack theory I'm also using Growing Pains / Childs Play.

I suggest that she can drain or absorb abilities instead- leaving her opponents with a dull aching because a part of them is practically gone should she drain an ability to its dredges. She could probably kill someone if she wasn’t careful and took too much.

Think Rogue from X-Men.

That would make her a formidable enemy to have and an even better secret weapon.

It would also make her just another tool like Dazai was- instead of halting an ability she practically takes it away (which is plausible if we really dug into it, but this is more she takes the power or energy involved in using the ability).

Where did this idea even come from you ask?

Honestly no clue but I was trying really hard to figure out what possible ability she could have, and I have landed on it must be powerful and this would absolutely be an ability that she would hide until necessary. It would also be a play on the novella titles instead of simply going Child's play= dolls= voodoo doll ability for example (mostly because that's kind of Q's ability) but more a play on how for some people transitioning into adulthood is draining and not as fun as when the world was too big for us.

2. Her word is Law

Okay this is also a stretch just so we are clear BUT I think it's more plausible than draining / absorbing. I don't really know which title I'd give this one because I'm leaning again to a more a non-name-based ability (eg. No Longer Human or Plum Blossom in the Snow) so for the fun of it lets call this Flowers at Dusk (Yamizakura- yes, the one I usually use in Fics).

When I say her word is law I don't mean legally speaking- think Jessica / Paul Atreides or the Reverend Mother from Dune and how they use 'the voice'.

This ability came to mind since Ichiyo Higuchi is an important figure in Japan, though it wasn't like she would be able to sway politics or anything of the like. Her works are important, the words in the stories are significant. Key word, words.

This would be a valuable power worth keeping hidden and close to the chest, she would make her way up the ranks fast with such an ability and more than likely she'd be a great asset in regard to interrogations.

Mori would absolutely keep this ability a secret and keep her close because of it. Let's play into the idea that she hates or is afraid of her ability, a power that takes away others free will or control would be hard to deal with depending on your mental fortitude or upbringing.

If she said jump you would jump, if she said kill you would kill.

She'd be the perfect secret weapon with an ability like this especially if no one else knew and she got kidnapped- whoops they didn't put on ability suppressors ...oh hey where did she go?

I feel like this is a plausible option- only because we know nothing but that she is an ability user. It would make sense for her to be closer to Mori- he'd ensure she would never use the ability on him and considering people underestimate her already it would be an uppercut of a power to have and no one (but Dazai or those who are deaf I suppose) would be able to get away from it.

We'd really have to get into the meat of this ability and flesh out weaknesses par her voice box and No Longer Human. Is it the vibrations in her voice? Does she need a key word? Can she only use it on a certain number of people at a time? Could she pinpoint who isn't going to be affected if it were with a large group.

For example- The Black Lizard get cornered, and she needs to use her ability would her yelling STOP, MOVE BACK or FREEZE (any key words really) affect Gin, Hirotsu, Tachihara or Akutagawa?

Can you tell I like this idea for an ability lol.

Well, I think this post has been long enough. Let me know your thoughts as well, which one do you like better? Do you have any theories for what Higuchi's ability could be? Which book title do you think Asagiri will choose when we get to finally see what her ability is?

[kckt88]

Wings of Departure.

Summary:

'I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone' - J. R R Tolkien

She simultaneously loved him and hated him in equal measure, but in the deep recesses of her mind, Vaena wondered if she could truly stand by and allow her husband to die, to stand there and watch as he was executed or worse to face him in the skies and fight to the death on dragon back.

It made her feel sick to her stomach-

But sooner or later she knew that she would have to make a choice.

Warning(s): Angst, Swearing, Family Drama, O.C Is Sick of Her Mother's B.S, Mild Violence, Referenced Character Deaths, Plots, Eavesdropping, Alicent Selling Out Her Own Sons, Dragons, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut, Kissing, Oral Sex (M & F Recieving), P in V.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 11K

A.N - Aemond and O.C say FUCK THIS SHIT!!

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Princess Vaena Targaryen stood by the Painted Table on Dragonstone, her fingers tracing the intricate details of the carved map.

The ancient table, depicting the entirety of Westeros, seemed to throb with a life of its own under the flickering torchlight. Beside her stood brother Jacaerys, his youthful face set in a determined scowl as he leaned forward, his hands planted firmly on the table's edge.

Their mother, Queen Rhaenyra, stood with her advisors in deep discussion. The room was thick with the weight of recent losses and grim prospects. Princess Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was, had fallen at Rook's Rest, her dragon Meleys dead alongside her.

The greens had suffered too; as Aegon lay grievously injured, and his dragon Sunfyre was unlikely to survive. Yet, the cost to Rhaenyra’s own cause had been steep, and the morale within Dragonstone had been shaken.

Jacaerys broke away from the table, his voice clear and insistent as he addressed their mother. "We must press our advantage now. Vhagar is no doubt injured from her fight with Meleys. She is vulnerable. We should take Cannibal, Syrax, and Vermax and descend on the hoary old bitch. She might be the largest dragon in the world, but not even she could withstand a combined attack from three dragons. Without Vhagar, the greens’ position would be greatly weakened."

Rhaenyra, her face pale and drawn, shook her head slowly. Her eyes, filled with sorrow and fatigue, met her son’s fiery gaze. "No, Jace. I do not wish to unleash the dragons on King's Landing. I do not wish to rule over ash and bone”

Vaena watched the exchange, feeling the tension in the room rise. The thought of further destruction, of turning King's Landing into a charred ruin, filled her with dread. Yet, she could see the logic in Jacaerys’ words.

"Mother-" Vaena said softly, stepping closer to Rhaenyra. "Jace has a point. Vhagar is a significant threat, and if we could neutralize her, it would tip the scales in our favour. We don't have to attack King's Landing directly. We can find Vhagar while she is weak and take her down."

“Vaena-” muttered Rhaenyra, her fingers moving across the edge of the painted table.

"Mother, your inaction is only going to end with more losses. You should have listened to Daemon when the greens first usurped the throne, but you chose not to act."

Rhaenyra's face tightened with a mix of sorrow and fatigue, but before she could respond, Vaena pressed on. "Look what's happened because of it! Luke is dead, Daemon is lost to Harrenhal, Rhaenys is dead, and we've lost Duskendale and Rook’s Rest to the greens. And now, when we have a chance to strike at Vhagar while she's vulnerable, you refuse to act again!"

The Queen’s eyes filled with pain, but she maintained her composure. "I do not wish to rule over ash and bone, Vaena. The cost of this war has already been too high."

Vaena's eyes flashed with anger and frustration. "And it will only get higher if you continue to hesitate”.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I understand your frustration, Vaena. However, since the claiming of Seasmoke-I am considering a plan to have anyone with Valyrian blood attempt to claim the riderless dragons that currently reside in the dragon mount”

“To what end?” asked Vaena pursing her lips.

“I’m hoping that having more dragons on my side may act as a deterrent-”

"-That’s ludicrous!" Vaena shouted. "How can you consider letting just anyone try to claim a dragon? It’s dangerous! Loyalty is fickle, and people can be easily swayed. We cannot risk the dragons falling into the wrong hands."

Rhaenyra's voice was firm but tinged with desperation. "I have no other option available to me”

“Surely my Cannibal is enough”

“As fearsome as your dragon is, Cannibal is but one dragon, we stand a better chance with Vermithor, Grey Ghost and Silver-” replied Rhaenyra.

Vaena's face flushed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides. "-You promised that when Aerion was old enough, he would be given the chance to claim Silverwing”

Rhaenyra's expression softened, but she did not waver. "I have not forgotten my promise. But we are in desperate times, and desperate measures are required”

Vaena’s anger surged, her amethyst eyes blazing with fury as she faced her mother. "You promised me that Aerion would have a chance to claim Silverwing when he was old enough. Now, you’re going back on your word. You say you mourn our losses, but I don’t believe you. You seem more bothered by Daemon’s involvement in the assassination of Jaehaerys than by the death of your own son”.

Rhaenyra's face darkened, her own anger flaring. "-It was your own husband that killed  Luke!"

The words hung in the air, sharp and painful. Vaena’s face flushed with rage, and she stepped closer to her mother, the anger and frustration boiling to the surface.

"All of this is your fault. Maybe if you had remained in King’s Landing and actually spent time solidifying your position as heir to the Iron Throne, then it wouldn’t have been so easy to usurp you. Maybe if you had bonded with your siblings instead of scorning them, our family be so divided. And maybe if you had made Luke apologize for slashing out Aemond’s eye, he might still be alive."

Rhaenyra’s eyes blazed with fury, but there was also a flicker of hurt in them. "You dare challenge my authority? Everything I’ve done has been for the sake of our family, for the Targaryen legacy. I have lost as much as you, Vaena. Do not presume to understand the burdens I carry."

Vaena’s voice was raw with emotion. "I do understand, Mother. I understand that your inaction has cost us dearly. I understand that your decisions—or lack thereof—have led to the deaths of our loved ones. And I understand that if we continue down this path, more will die."

Rhaenyra’s expression hardened, and she took a step back, her eyes narrowing. "You think you could do better? You think you could make the decisions that need to be made? This war is not as simple as you believe."

Vaena’s eyes met her mother’s, unyielding. "Maybe I could. Maybe someone needs to. Because right now, all I see is a Queen too afraid to act, and a realm falling apart because of it."

Rhaenyra's eyes blazed with fury, her voice sharp and commanding. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner? I am not only your mother, but your Queen!"

Vaena laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and mocking. "Daemon had the right idea—get as far away from you as possible."

Rhaenyra's face contorted with rage, her voice rising to a shout. "Get out of my sight! NOW!"

Vaena's eyes flashed with defiance as she turned on her heel. "Gladly”

She stormed towards the door, her steps quick and angry. Jace moved to intercept her, his face pleading. "Vaena, wait! Please, don't go-”

Vaena shook her head, her voice cold. "-If things carry on as they are, we’re all going to die."

With that, she pushed past him, and left the room, the echoes of her footsteps fading down the corridor.

Vaena stormed down the dimly lit corridors of Dragonstone, her mind a whirlwind of anger and frustration. She reached her chambers and pushed the door open with more force than she intended, startling the maid who was attending to her three-year-old son, Aerion.

"Leave us," Vaena said curtly, and the maid, sensing her mood, quickly curtsied and exited the room without a word.

As soon as the door shut, Vaena's gaze softened, shifting to Aerion, who was sitting on the floor surrounded by his toys. The little boy looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. "Mummy sad," he said, his voice filled with concern.

Vaena managed a slight nod, her heart aching at the purity of his concern. She moved to sit on the floor beside him, trying to push the tumultuous argument with her mother from her mind.

Aerion reached out with one of his toys, a small wooden dragon, and offered it to her. "Mummy play," he said, his face lighting up with a hopeful smile.

Vaena's lips curved into a tender smile as she took the toy from him. "Thank you, my sweet boy."

Aerion giggled, his joy infectious, and for a moment, Vaena felt the heavy weight of her anger and sorrow lift.

Vaena stood on the stone balcony of Dragonstone. Her gaze was fixed on the boats approaching the shore, each one carrying hopeful souls eager for the chance to claim a dragon.

Since the argument, Vaena had not spoken to her mother. They had taken to avoiding each other, a silence that was more painful than any confrontation.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Jace entering the room, his presence a welcome distraction. Aerion, who was playing with his toys on the floor, looked up with a bright smile.

"Jace!"

Jace grinned as he ruffled the boy’s silver hair affectionately. "Hello, little one," he said, his voice warm.

“Play dragons-”

“I’m a little busy at the moment-but I’ll play later” replied Jace.

“Ok-look Vhagar” exclaimed Aerion as he held up a wooden dragon figure.

“Very good” replied Jace softly.

“I miss daddy-” muttered Aerion sadly as he moved his dragon figurine through the air.

“I know you do sweet boy” said Vaena as she looked at Jace who ruffled Aerion’s hair again before standing up.

"Are you coming to witness the claiming of Vermithor?" asked Jace.

Vaena shook her head, her expression resolute. "No, I’m not."

Jace nodded, a shadow of understanding crossing his face. "Alright. I’ll see you later then."

As Jace moved towards the door, Vaena's voice stopped him. "It’s wrong. Letting common folk lay claim to the dragons—it weakens the Targaryen legacy."

Jace paused at the threshold, his hand on the door handle. He hesitated, looking back at her with a thoughtful expression. Then, with a nod, he opened the door and stepped out, leaving Vaena alone with Aerion.

A few hours later, the aftermath of the dragon claiming ceremony had left Dragonstone abuzz with a mixture of relief and tension. Vermithor had been claimed by Hugh Hammer, and Grey Ghost had found a new rider in Ulf.

Vaena had watched as Ulf, in his drunken stupor, had taken Grey Ghost on a flight towards King’s Landing.

Her heart had nearly stopped when Vhagar had appeared off the shore of Dragonstone, relentless in her pursuit.

Her husband was no doubt furious over the events that had transpired, the claiming of a dragon was supposed to be sacred, it was supposed to mean something. It was not something to be used at the whim of a drunken lout who didn’t know his arse from his elbow.

Seeing Vhagar and knowing Aemond was only a short distance away made her heart skip a beat, she was so angry with him, she was hurt and felt betrayed but part of her still longed for him.

Longed to hear his voice, to feel the warmth of his skin, the touch of his lips. To lay in the privacy of their chambers and shut the world out, where Aemond would whisper words of love as he sheathed his cock inside her, his grunts and groans of pleasure as he pounded inside her with deep measured thrusts.

But most of all she missed seeing him with Aerion, it was their duty to produce a child and Aemond was rather enthusiastic in that regard, as he would often spill his seed inside her, sometimes more than once a day, so it was no surprise really when she discovered that she was with child.

It was considered normal for men not to frequent the marriage bed once his wife was with child, but Aemond wasn’t most men-in fact seeing her grow round with his child made his sexual appetite grow ravenous.

When he wasn’t attending his regular duties, he was between her thighs endlessly worshipping her body, with his mouth, fingers and cock. Aegon would often tease him, saying that she was already with child, and he didn’t need to keep sticking it in her as often as he did.

But Vaena knew Aemond couldn’t help it, he was especially drawn to her rapidly growing breasts, he would press his face in between them and close his eye as she stroked his hair.

After she birthed their son, his attention to her breasts only increased. Especially when it was declared that she had healed from the birth and was ready to resume their physical intimacy.

Feeding their son often left her breasts swollen and sore and Aemond ever the attentive husband was willing and eager to help sooth her aches and pains, his lips wrapped around her rosy nipples as he suckled from her.

It was an unspoken level of intimacy between man and wife, one they never verbally recognised but knew that it was necessary.

She simultaneously loved him and hated him in equal measure, and in the deep recesses of her mind, Vaena wondered if she could truly stand by and allow her husband to die, to watch as he was executed or worse to face him in the skies and fight to the death on dragon back.

It made her feel sick to her stomach, and as she watched Aemond flee, she let out a relieved sigh, he would not meet the stranger today.

But sooner or later his days would be numbered, and she would have to make a choice.

Despite the discord between her and her mother, Vaena had been summoned to attend a dinner with the new dragon riders, as much as she wanted to refuse, the expectations of duty and the weight of family ties compelled her to attend.

She had dressed herself carefully, donning a gown of deep red, with black dragon scale patterns on the shoulders that shimmered in the low light. Her reflection in the looking glass was a mask of composed elegance, but beneath the surface, her emotions churned.

The dinner was to be held in one of Dragonstone’s grand halls, where the feast would mark the acceptance of the new dragon riders into their fold.

Before leaving, she turned to her young son, Aerion, who was playing quietly with Darna, her lady-in-waiting. The loyal maid had taken on the task of caring for Aerion with gentle efficiency, providing some measure of comfort to both mother and child.

“I’ll be back soon, Aerion,” Vaena said, kneeling to kiss her son’s forehead. “Darna will take good care of you while I’m away.”

Aerion looked up at her with innocent curiosity, his small hand reaching out to touch her cheek. “Mummy go?”

Vaena nodded, forcing a reassuring smile. “Yes, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.”

With one last, lingering look at her son, Vaena straightened and made her way to the hall. The corridors of Dragonstone seemed to stretch endlessly, each step echoing her apprehension.

As she approached the hall, Vaena braced herself for the evening ahead, her mind still swirling with the day’s events and the fractured relationship with her mother.

Vaena entered the grand dining hall, her steps echoing softly against the polished stone. The room was illuminated by flickering candlelight, casting long shadows across the walls and creating a warm, yet tense atmosphere. The long table was set with an array of sumptuous dishes, but the air was thick with unspoken tension.

She approached her mother, who was seated at the head of the table, and offered a slight bow. “Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra looked up, her expression a mix of weariness and strained courtesy. “Vaena, I’m glad you could join us. Allow me to introduce you to our new dragon riders.”

Vaena nodded as her mother gestured to the men seated at the table. “This is Hugh Hammer,” Rhaenyra said.

Hugh Hammer rose from his seat and gave a respectful bow. His presence was imposing, and he offered a curt nod in acknowledgment.

Next, Rhaenyra indicated Addam of Hull, who also rose and bowed graciously. His demeanour was more reserved.

Finally, Rhaenyra introduced Ulf, who was hunched over a plate, stuffing his face with food. He looked up with a surprised expression, hastily wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“Oh, one eye’s wife!” he declared loudly, a smirk playing on his lips.

Vaena's face tightened with anger at the derogatory nickname for her husband, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury.

She took her seat next to Jace, who reached under the table to squeeze her hand gently. The small gesture of comfort was a balm to her frayed nerves.

As the meal progressed, the conversation around the table was strained and awkward. Rhaenyra discussed potential plans to attack the Greens’ strongholds, including Old Town and Lannisport. The room buzzed with conflicting opinions.

Baela, her voice firm, questioned the morality of targeting innocent civilians. “Is it right to attack innocent people just to break our enemies' will?”

Jace, his expression resolute, replied, “It is difficult, but it must be done. We have to ensure that our enemies understand the cost of their defiance.”

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement. “We must break their will. Only then will we secure our future.”

“What of Aemond, he will not sit idle as you attack Oldtown” asked Vaena.

Ulf, who had been quietly eating, suddenly interrupted with a poorly timed joke. “You needn’t worry about one eye, too busy in the brothels he is”

Vaena's face turned a deep red with rage as she looked at Ulf “W-What?”

Ulf, oblivious to the weight of his words, leaned forward with a smirk, his hand grasping at her wrist  “I heard he was caught in a brothel on the streets of Silk, discovered by his own brother, naked in the madam’s arms.”

The room fell silent, the comment hanging like a heavy shroud. Vaena's anger erupted; she snatched her hand away from Ulf, her voice trembling with fury. “Do not presume to touch me again! I am not one of your common lickspittles!”

“Apologise Princess-but it’s only fair that you knew what the kinslayer was up too, not sparing you a single thought as he sought out the madam, it’s an insult-betraying you in such a manner”

“You-” snarled Vaena as she seized a handful of Ulf’s grey hair and slammed his head down on the table with a resounding thud.

Ulf, taken aback, tried to recover his composure but found himself struggling against Vaena’s vice-like grip.

“Let him go, Vaena!” Rhaenyra commanded, her voice laced with a mix of shock and authority.

Vaena’s glare was a storm of betrayal and hurt. She held Ulf’s head down for a moment longer before releasing him. He slumped back into his chair, stunned and humiliated.

Leaning closer, Vaena’s voice was cold and menacing. “You a stain on the Targaryen legacy and if you so much as look in my direction again, I will have you fed to my Cannibal.”

With that, Vaena turned on her heel and stormed out of the dining hall, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and tears. The weight of Ulf’s vile comments about Aemond had struck a raw nerve, and the sting of his words lingered as she fled down the corridor.

Vaena entered her chambers, the heavy door closing behind her with a quiet thud. The room was dimly lit by the flickering light of a few candles, casting long shadows across the walls. She moved with a weary grace to the bedside, where Aerion lay fast asleep.

The sight of him, so peaceful and innocent, offered a fleeting moment of solace amid the chaos.

Darna, who had been tending to Aerion, stood by the door, ready to leave. Vaena gave her a nod. “Thank you, Darna. You may go now.”

The maid curtsied and exited the room, closing the door softly behind her. Vaena stood alone, her gaze drifting to the sleeping form of her son. The room felt suddenly heavy with the weight of her memories and her current turmoil.

Her mind wandered back to the last time she had seen Aemond. The memory was as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday. They had argued fiercely about his decision to support the usurpation of the throne from her mother.

Aemond had been adamant that Aegon was the rightful king, citing his status as the first-born son. “Viserys’ wishes mean nothing,” Aemond had said, his voice cold and resolute. “Aegon is the one who should rule.”

Vaena had countered with equal fervour. “But Mother was named heir by King Viserys himself! He upheld her claim steadfastly. This isn’t about bloodlines; it’s about honour and duty!”

Their argument had escalated, and in a desperate move, Aemond had locked her and Aerion in his chambers, preventing her from intervening in the crowning of Aegon. Vaena remembered the fear and helplessness she felt as the reality of their situation set in.

Luckily, Ser Erryk had managed to aid her and Rhaegar in their escape, but the reprieve was short-lived. Mere days later, Aemond’s actions had culminated in the death of her brother Luke.

Vaena sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes tracing the contours of Aerion’s sleeping face.

In the early days of her marriage to Aemond, their relationship had been marked by awkwardness and uncertainty, his ire towards Luke for the loss of his eye lingered beneath the surface, not for the act itself but the lack of apology, and the fact his father seemed more bothered about insults levied against his favourite child’s sons than his own son who had been permanently maimed.

At first Aemond had been stoic and reserved, his attention to her minimal, even their intimate encounters at first were awkward and stilted.

The emotional distance between them had been palpable, and it had felt as though they were two strangers bound by duty rather than affection.

But slowly, as time passed, they had found common ground. They had bonded over their shared love of Valyrian history, spending hours reading ancient texts and discussing their interpretations.

Their conversations had started to bridge the gap that once separated them. They had taken to flying their dragons together, the freedom of the skies offering a sanctuary from the constraints of their royal lives.

Through these moments of connection, Aemond had begun to lower his mask. Vaena had discovered that beneath his reserved exterior was a man who yearned for love and acceptance. It hadn’t been hard to fall in love with him as he revealed more of himself—his vulnerabilities, his hopes, and his dreams.

The transformation had been even more profound with the birth of Aerion. Fatherhood had softened Aemond, revealing a side of him that was determined to be a better father than his own.

He had become attentive and loving, singing Valyrian lullabies to their son and whispering words of affection in the quiet of the night. Those moments of tenderness had forged a bond between them, a connection that was now a painful reminder of what they had lost.

Vaena’s heart raced as she summoned the courage to confront her mother. The weight of her conflicted feelings about Aemond and the looming possibility of battle were pressing heavily upon her.

She knew she needed to speak with her mother about her hesitancy in facing Aemond, even if their relationship was strained. With resolve, she pulled on a robe and ventured out of her chambers.

The night air was crisp, filled with the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore and the distant roars of dragons resting within Dragon mount. She approached her mother’s chambers and knocked gently on the door.

When there was no immediate response, Vaena hesitated, then slowly opened the door. To her surprise, the room was empty. She was about to turn away when she heard muffled voices coming from the corridor below. Curiosity and concern drove her to descend the steps quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the stone.

As she reached the lower level, she caught sight of her mother and Alicent Hightower engaged in a heated conversation. Vaena's heart sank as she ducked behind a large bookcase to listen discreetly. She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp of shock at the gravity of their discussion.

Alicent was speaking urgently. “I cannot bear the thought of losing Helaena and Jaehaera. I’m willing to offer Kings Landing to you-Aemond will soon leave for Harrenhal, in three days’ time you will come to Kings Landing, and I will have the guards throw down their weapons and you can take the Iron Throne without bloodshed”

Vaena’s breath caught in her throat. Alicent was negotiating her daughter’s and granddaughter’s lives, but not her sons.

Rhaenyra’s voice was cold and calculating. “What of Aegon? Does he not matter?”

Alicent’s voice trembled with emotion. “Aegon is broken beyond recognition. He lies in the dark, writhing in pain and terror. He is no longer fit to rule. If you want, I can make him bend the knee-”

Rhaenyra’s response was sharp. “-If I am to take the throne, then I must put an end to the opposition. I cannot afford to show mercy to him or Aemond. Their death’s must be public, I must take their heads for all to see. You must choose, Alicent. Will you remain on this course, or will you sacrifice your sons for the greater good?”

The room fell into a tense silence. Vaena’s heart pounded as she listened, horrified, to the weight of the decision being made. Alicent’s response was a reluctant acceptance. “I-I will m-make the sacrifice”

Vaena’s shock and revulsion were overwhelming. She could hardly believe what she had just heard. Her knees felt weak as she quietly retraced her steps, retreating from the scene.

The cold air of the night seemed to close in around her as she made her way back to her chambers, her mind reeling from the betrayal and the cruel choices being made.

Vaena was in a state of disbelief as she replayed the disturbing conversation she had just overheard. It was all wrong, a web of madness and betrayal that she could scarcely comprehend, a mother willingly sacrificing her own sons.

Then there was her own mother, again desperately clinging to her friendship with Alicent, a friendship that should no longer hold any meaning or significance.

They were on the precipice of war and these two were meeting up like lovers in the cover of darkness. Her mother was blind when it came to Alicent, and surely it would be their undoing.

Fire and Blood was sure to reign and still her mother stays her hand because her childhood companion pleads tearfully and whispers words of surrender.

They were all going to die, and Vaena would not subject her son to such horrors. No matter the cost, she had to protect him; there was no other choice. They had to leave, and they had to leave immediately.

After she had changed into her riding leathers she moved quickly, her heart pounding as she packed a small bag with essentials. The urgency of the situation pushed her to be efficient but thorough.

As she fastened the bag closed, she glanced at Aerion, still sound asleep in his bed. With a heavy heart, she gently woke him, pressing soft kisses to his forehead to soothe him from his slumber.

"We’re going flying, sweetheart," she whispered softly, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. Aerion, barely awake, clung to her instinctively as she lifted him into her arms, his little face pressing into her neck for comfort.

Vaena carefully opened the door to her chambers and peeked into the corridor. It was clear. She moved swiftly through the castle, her steps as quiet as possible, and descended into the Dragon mount.

As she passed the entrance to Silverwing’s cavern, she hesitated.

After the successfully claims of Vermithor and Grey Ghost, she knew her mother still intended to have others try and claim Silverwing but given that Vermithor had killed the majority of the people who came to try their luck, it was unknown as to when anymore hopefuls would arrive, but Vaena didn’t want to take the chance.

The thought of seeing Silverwing being claimed by someone else was unbearable. So, she held Aerion close, took a deep breath and entered the cavern.

Silverwing, the majestic dragon once belonging to the revered Queen Alysanne, lay curled beside a newly laid clutch of eggs. The dragon’s enormous eyes opened slowly at the sound of her approach.

Vaena, speaking in a soothing tone, said, “Lykirī!” (Calm).

Silverwing’s gentle nature shone through as she moved forward and nuzzled Vaena, her massive snout sniffing at Aerion with curiosity.

Aerion looked at the dragon with wide, amethyst eyes full of wonder.

“Dokimarvose Silverwing” Vaena urged softly (Focus).

Aerion placed his small hand on Silverwing’s snout, and the dragon responded with an affectionate coo.

“īlon issi naejot Sōvegon” Vaena said firmly, her voice carrying the weight of her resolve. (We are to fly).

Silverwing tilted her head to the side as she listened.

“Nyke gaomagon daor jaelagon naejot henujagon ao” She looked at Silverwing with a plea in her eyes. (I do not wish to leave you).

The gentle dragon moved forward and nudged Vaena slightly, expelling warm air from her nostrils.

“Māzigon rūsīr issa hāedar” (Come with me, girl).

Silverwing rumbled softly in response, her attention divided between Vaena and her eggs.

Vaena carefully lowered Aerion to the ground and moved toward the dragon’s nest. She picked up a sharp rock and used it to break open the hardened, gelatinous sack encasing three precious eggs.

One by one, she wrapped each egg in a piece of clothing and carefully placed them into her bag.

Aerion held out his hand to Silverwing, who nuzzled it tenderly. “Kostilus māzigon, gēlenka” whispered Aerion (Please come, Silver).

Silverwing cooed in acceptance, sensing the urgency, as the beginnings of a bond began to form between the dragon and the child.

Vaena lifted Aerion back into her arms, her voice resolute “Gūrogon naejot se jēdar īlon jāhor sōvegon hēnkirī” (Take to the sky; we will fly together).

She watched as Silverwing lumbered forward and left the cavern, the dragon’s powerful wings spreading in preparation for flight. Vaena’s heart raced with a mixture of relief and apprehension.

The last step in her plan was to reach her Cannibal.

Vaena took a deep breath as she entered the cavern that housed Cannibal. The immense space was cloaked in shadow, the air thick with the scent of ash and sulphur.

Aerion, clinging tightly to her hand, looked up with wide, apprehensive eyes as Vaena called out, "Naejot Māzīs Cannibal" (Come forward).

The ground beneath her feet trembled as Cannibal’s massive scarred black form emerged from the darkness. His low, rumbling growls of recognition echoed through the cavern, creating a rhythm of sound that seemed both ominous and reassuring.

Vaena approached her dragon with a mixture of awe and relief, placing her head on Cannibal’s scaled flank. His presence, despite the gravity of their situation, was a calming balm for her troubled heart.

Holding Aerion close, Vaena climbed the rope ladder that was affixed to Cannibal’s saddle. The dragon had never been particularly fond of being saddled. In the early days, his dislike had been so fierce that several dragon keepers had met grim fates.

But time had tempered his hostility, and though he still displayed his displeasure, he now accepted the saddle as a necessary part of his existence.

Once she and Aerion were securely fastened into the saddle, Vaena paused.

Where could they possibly go? They had no money, just three dragon eggs, two dragons, and a bag of clothes mostly belonging to Aerion.

Harrenhal was not an option, given her anger towards her father for his role in Jaehaerys' death. And seeking refuge with her mother's allies was equally out of the question, as her mother would undoubtedly pursue them and demand her return.

The only viable destination was one she knew she shouldn’t consider, but with few options remaining, it was her only choice. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

With a determined resolve, she gave Cannibal the command to fly. The massive dragon lumbered out of his cavern, his powerful wings unfurling with a great rustle of scales.

Cannibal’s roar was thunderous as he ascended into the night sky, his presence casting a large shadow over the landscape.

As they soared upward, Silverwing, flying alongside them, approached with caution. Known for his fearsome nature, Cannibal was not a common companion in the skies, and Silverwing, despite her gentleness, remained wary.

Vaena spoke softly to her dragon. "Lykirī" (Be calm).

Cannibal responded with a rumbling purr, and then propelled himself forward, Vaena wrapped her cloak tighter around Aerion, to keep him warm as the air became colder.

As Dragonstone began to fade into the distance, Vaena steeled herself. She knew that their destination was fraught with its own risks and complications, but it was the only option left.

"To Kings Landing."

Aemond sat in his chambers, the weight of his decisions pressing heavily upon him.

He yearned for his wife and the comfort of her embrace, he missed his son and his sweet little voice.

They were lost to him now, because of what he’d done.

It was his own fault, all his wife had ever done was love him, and he only caused her pain in return.

His own mother had turned on him, his brother was broken and burnt and now his sweet sister refused to look at him.

Manhandling her had been wrong, he knew that now. But he was just so desperate. Their lives were in peril, and he was the only one fighting to save them.

He didn’t know what to do, not anymore.

Then the quiet of the evening was interrupted by the sudden entrance of a guard, who rushed in, his expression one of urgency.

"Your Grace, two large dragons have been spotted flying towards King's Landing!"

Aemond stood abruptly, striding over to the balcony with quick, determined steps.

"Shall we arm the scorpions?" the guard asked, his voice tight with concern.

"No. Stand down," Aemond commanded firmly. His sharp gaze scanned the horizon, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized the familiar silhouette of Cannibal.

He would not have his wife's dragon shot out of the sky. "Send a number of guards to meet my wife and escort her to my chambers immediately."

The guard bowed deeply before hurrying off to carry out his orders. Aemond's eye remained fixed on the sky, watching as Cannibal and Silverwing circled the Red Keep, their roars echoing through the air before they descended to land where Vhagar was resting.

Aemond's mind raced with questions and emotions. Why had Vaena chosen to return and would Aerion be with her?

The last time they had seen each other, the memory of her angry, tear-streaked face haunted him. She had begged him not to go through with usurping the throne, struggling against him as he locked her and Aerion in his chambers.

Since her escape, Aemond had written countless letters, each one a blend of anger, desperation, and declarations of love, none of which he had the courage to send. Those letters now lay forgotten, stuffed in his desk drawer, mere relics of his turmoil.

As he waited for Vaena, Aemond began pacing his chambers, he was more nervous now than he had been on their wedding day and even the bedding.

But a lot had changed since then.

The sound of approaching footsteps and a knock on his door pulled Aemond from his reverie.

"Enter," he said, straightening up, his arms hanging by his sides.

The door opened, and Aemond was greeted with the sweetest of sounds. "Daddy!"

Aerion’s small figure rushed into the room; his little arms outstretched. Aemond caught his son in a tight embrace, lifting him up and holding him close.

"Aerion," Aemond whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he buried his face in his son's hair. The boy's familiar scent brought a rush of warmth and sorrow.

Vaena entered the room behind her son, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of the chasm that had grown between them. Aemond met her eyes, his heart aching with unspoken words.

"You've come back."

Vaena's eyes were wary, her expression a mix of relief and guardedness. "I had no other choice," she replied, her voice steady but laced with tension.

After a few precious moments of holding Aerion close, Aemond reluctantly pulled away. He summoned one of the maids, who appeared promptly at his door.

"Take care of him," Aemond instructed, his voice gentle yet firm. "Ensure that guards are posted inside the room and at the door to protect him."

Aerion looked up at his father, his small hand clutching Aemond's sleeve. "Do I have to go, Daddy?"

Aemond knelt down to his son's level, brushing a strand of silver hair from his face. "I promise, it won’t be for long-I just need to talk to your mother"

Aerion smiled, his reluctance easing. He allowed the maid to take his hand, and she led him into the room across from Aemond's chambers.

Aemond watched until the door shut behind them, his heart heavy.

Turning back to Vaena, he barely had time to register her movement before her fist collided with his nose.

He reeled backward, his hand instinctively going to his face to stem the flow of blood. "That was for Luke," she spat, her eyes blazing with fury.

Before he could recover, she punched him again, this time in the stomach.

Aemond doubled over, dropping to the floor as he wheezed in pain. "-And that was for Rhaenys," she declared, her voice cold and determined.

As he struggled to catch his breath, Vaena knelt in front of him, her expression softening. She took his face in her hands, her touch both tender and firm.

"This is for me," she whispered, before pressing her lips to his in a fierce, desperate kiss.

Aemond's mind swirled with the intensity of her actions, the pain of her blows mixing with the undeniable longing in her kiss. He responded, his hands reaching up to hold her, afraid she might slip away.

The kiss was a collision of anger, love, and regret, a tumultuous expression of the emotions that had built up between them.

When they finally pulled apart, Aemond looked into her eyes, his voice raw with emotion. "Vaena, I-" He struggled to find the words, the weight of his actions pressing heavily on his shoulders.

"Don't," she interrupted, her voice trembling. "Not yet-" tears glistened in her eyes.

Vaena helped Aemond to his feet, guiding him gently to sit on the bed. She inspected his nose with care, her touch both tender and clinical. "It's not broken," she declared, "but it will be sore for a while."

Aemond wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face into her chest and inhaling her familiar scent.

The comfort of her presence washed over him, and he closed his eye, savouring the moment. Vaena stroked his hair gently, but then she abruptly stopped and stepped away.

"Is it true?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Aemond opened his eye, confusion evident. "Is what true?"

Vaena's face contorted with anger and hurt. "Did you visit a brothel on the Streets of Silk?"

Aemond's heart sank. "How do you know about that?" he asked cautiously.

Vaena's eyes filled with tears. "So, it is true? You've bedded another woman? Betrayed our marriage vows?"

Aemond quickly shook his head. "I went to a brothel, yes. I sought comfort from the madam, but I was never intimate with her."

Vaena backed away, shaking her head as tears streamed down her face. Aemond got off the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close despite her resistance.

"Vaena, please," he pleaded. "I never laid with her in that way. After you left with Aerion, after what happened with Luke, I was desperate. My mother was furious with me; she couldn't even look at me. I had no one else to turn to. Going back to Sylvi was wrong, but I couldn't help it. I just wanted to be held by someone who didn't hate me."

Vaena's body trembled in his arms, her tears soaking into his shirt.

Aemond gently cupped Vaena's face, wiping away the remaining tears. "How did you find out?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with concern and curiosity.

Vaena's expression hardened. "Ulf told me."

"Who is Ulf?" Aemond inquired, his brow furrowing.

"He's one of the common folk who claimed Grey Ghost," Vaena replied, her tone dripping with disdain. "He's a wretched cur with no manners, and it disgusts me that my mother has defiled our birthright by allowing commoners to claim dragons."

Aemond's frown deepened. "Who claimed Vermithor?"

"A man named Hugh Hammer," Vaena said, shaking her head in frustration. "My mother was hoping that Silverwing would be claimed too, but Vermithor killed all of the other dragon seeds."

Aemond's eye widened with surprise. "Vermithor killed them?"

Vaena nodded. "Yes, and my mother still wishes for someone to claim Silverwing. But I couldn't allow it. She had promised to let Aerion try to claim her when he was old enough, but she broke that promise."

Aemond's grip tightened on her shoulders, a mixture of anger and determination flickering in his eye. "So, you brought Silverwing with you?"

Vaena nodded again, her expression resolute. "Yes. I convinced Silverwing to come with me to King's Landing. I couldn't let my mother's broken promises endanger Aerion' birthright."

Aemond's gaze softened as he looked at Vaena, a mixture of pride and admiration shining through his concern. "You did the right thing," he said quietly. "You protected our son and our legacy”

Vaena sighed, her tension easing slightly as she leaned into Aemond's embrace. "I just want us to be safe," she whispered. "To find a way to end this madness."

Aemond held her close, his heart swelling with a renewed sense of purpose. "We will find a way," he promised. "Together."

Vaena took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to say next. "There's something else I need to tell you," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Aemond looked at her, his eye narrowing with concern. "What is it?"

"Your mother-she's gone to Dragonstone."

Aemond's expression shifted from concern to anger and shock. "What?"

Vaena continued, her voice steady but filled with tension. "Alicent advocated for the lives of Helaena and Jaehaera in exchange for my mother successfully claiming the Iron Throne without bloodshed. She told her of your plan to travel to Harrenhal to meet Cole and his army. Alicent has arranged for my mother to come to King's Landing in three days. She will command the guards to lay down their weapons and open the gates."

Aemond went ballistic, his fury palpable as he paced the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. "My own mother-betraying us? How could she do this?" He stopped and turned to Vaena, his face twisted with rage. "Did she advocate for anyone else besides Helaena and Jaehaera?"

Vaena shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness. "No. She agreed my mother’s demand to have you and Aegon publicly executed, which will no doubt extend to Daeron as well"

Aemond's face contorted with a mixture of horror and fury. "She has sentenced not just one but all of her sons to death," he spat. "What madness possesses her?"

Vaena stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. "I don't know, Aemond. I was just as shocked as you when I heard it."

Aemond's eye blazed with anger. "She thinks she can protect Helaena and Jaehaera by sacrificing the rest of us? She's lost her mind."

Aemond's shoulders slumped as the weight of the revelations pressed down on him. "I'm alone," he said quietly, his voice filled with despair. "I thought what I was doing was right. It wasn't about the Iron Throne. It was about saving our lives. But after what I've just heard-what's the point? I give up. If my own mother won't even try, why should I? I've got nothing left."

Vaena stepped closer, placing her hands gently on his face, her eyes filled with love and determination. "You're not alone, Aemond. You have me and Aerion. We're your family, and we need you. We could leave Westeros, fly across the Narrow Sea, and get as far away from this war as possible. We could be happy, just the three of us. We could have more children, live in peace. We could be together."

“What if Rhaenyra comes after us?” asked Aemond.

“Then I will do what I must in order to save your life” replied Vaena.

Aemond looked at her, the hopelessness in his eye beginning to soften. "What of my mother-“

"Your mother has sold you and your brothers out," Vaena interrupted, her voice firm. "If my mother takes the Iron Throne, you will die. I don't want you to die, Aemond."

“I deserve it” muttered Aemond.

Vaena's voice broke, and she began to sob, clutching at him desperately. "Please don't leave me," she cried, her tears soaking his shirt. "I don't want you to die. Please, Aemond"

Aemond felt a pang of guilt and sorrow as he held her trembling form. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and burying his face in her hair. "Vaena, I won’t leave you," he whispered, his own voice choked with emotion.

She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "Then let's leave," she said, her voice trembling. "Let's leave all of this behind. We can find a place where we can be happy, where we can raise Aerion in peace. Please, Aemond. Let's go."

Aemond held Vaena close, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she sobbed against his chest. He hushed her gently, his mind reeling with a sudden, profound realization.

What was the point of everything he had done? He had lost his eye, transformed himself into a capable swordsman and dragon rider, studied relentlessly, and attended to his duties with unwavering dedication.

He had strived to be the perfect son, and yet it was all for nothing. Despite always being told that Rhaenyra was the enemy, his mother was now clinging to her skirts, begging for scraps and bending the knee at the cost of her sons' lives.

Vaena was the only one who had ever seen him for who he truly was. She loved him, blessed him with a son, and yet he had done nothing to earn it. He had killed her brother and her grandmother, attacked his own brother at Rook’s Rest, and burned down Sharp Point, watching from the cliffside as people writhed and screamed in agony.

He had done all that, and yet here she was, crying for him, begging for his life, and offering him everything he had ever wanted—a family.

Aemond took a deep breath and gently took Vaena's face in his hands, lifting her tear-streaked gaze to meet his.

"Let's go," he whispered, his voice steady and filled with a newfound determination. "Let's leave it all behind."

Vaena's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she searched his face as if trying to comprehend his words. "You mean it?" she asked, her voice trembling with hope and fear.

Aemond nodded, his grip on her tightening. "Yes, I mean it. We'll leave Westeros. We'll fly across the Narrow Sea and start a new life, just the three of us. We'll find peace and happiness away from this madness."

A sob of relief escaped Vaena's lips, and she threw her arms around his neck, holding him as if she would never let go. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank you, Aemond."

He kissed her forehead tenderly, a sense of calm settling over him. "We'll make it through this," he promised, his voice filled with conviction. "Together."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, Aemond felt a weightlifting from his shoulders. The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope.

They would leave Westeros and all its chaos behind. They would build a new life, far away from the shadows of their past, and they would find happiness together.

"Let's get Aerion-” Vaena said softly, pulling back to look into his eye. "Let's leave tonight."

Aemond nodded, a sense of urgency mingling with his newfound resolve. "Yes, we’ll leave tonight-" he agreed.

As Vaena turned to leave the room, Aemond took hold of her, and pulled her close, kissing her with a fervour that took her breath away

His hands tangled in her hair, and he whispered against her lips, "We will leave but I need you, Vaena. It's been too long since I last felt your touch."

Vaena looked up into his eye, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes," she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Yes, Aemond."

They began pulling at each other's clothes, their urgency growing with each passing second. Aemond's hands trembled as he undid the ties of her riding leathers, and Vaena's fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his tunic. The material fell away, piece by piece, until they stood before each other, bare and exposed.

Aemond's gaze roamed over her body, drinking in the sight of her. He backed her towards the bed, his hands never leaving her skin. "Gods, I've missed you," he murmured, his voice rough with longing.

Vaena reached up, her fingers brushing the scar over his eye, a reminder of the sacrifices they had both made. "I've missed you too," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

As they reached the bed, Aemond lowered her onto the soft sheets, his body covering hers. Their mouths met again in a searing kiss,

Vaena smiled slightly as she hooked her fingers around her own small clothes and slowly pulled them down, Aemond could feel himself salivating as he stared at her cunny.

“Come here-” growled Aemond, as he reached out and tugged Vaena back on the bed.

“Let me take care of you” muttered Vaena as she placed kisses along Aemond jaw and then down his neck, making sure to gently nip and suck his skin as she went.

She carried on moving down, pausing as she reached his chest, she grinned as she took one of his nipples into her mouth, her tongue teasing it before she bit down.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Does issa Jorrāelagon like that?” asked Vaena as she moved across and gave his other nipple the same attention, (My love).

“Oh. Gods” whimpered Aemond as she moved further down his body, her tongue and teeth grazing his pale skin.

When she reached the trail of hair from his belly button down to his cock, she pressed her nose against him and giggled when she felt the hair tickle her skin.

“Kostilus” begged Aemond (Please).

“Ao līs umbagon issa zaldrīzes” replied Vaena (You must wait, my dragon).

Aemond lost his senses the moment Vaena’s warm, wet mouth quickly wrapped around the head of his swollen cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Vaena!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through his wife’s silver hair.

Vaena ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl” moaned Aemond.

Aemond knew it would push the limits of his control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Vaena’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her perfect pink lips stretched around him.

“I’m not going to last if you carry on” Aemond admitted, though it pained him to do so.

Vaena smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth. 

“It feels so good-that’s it” groaned Aemond.

Vaena responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of her husband’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand cupped his stones.

“Shit-Vaena. I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

His wife took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Vaena’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking husband?” asked Vaena.

“Y-Yes. Now get up here and ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond.

“But your nose” whispered Vaena concerned.

“I don’t care-get up here-now” ordered Aemond, his cock already twitching with interest.

Vaena hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty cunny" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Vaena’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it Issa dōna. Let me hear you” (My sweet).

“YES. It feels so good” whimpered Vaena.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

“Ooooh A-Aemond-just like that” shrieked Vaena.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaena, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaena "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh" whimpered Vaena; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against him.

“That’s it, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond, his cock was so hard that it was boarding on painful.

Vaena was giving off a slew of loud swear words, moans, and pleas, that anyone passing his chambers would surely hear.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me baby, come for daddy” moaned Aemond.

Finally, he felt Vaena’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Vaena’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife’s centre as she came.

After a few minutes, Aemond gently urged his wife to move down, so she was hovering above his cock.

Her hand wrapped around him, running the head of his cock along her warm wet folds.

“Your such a tease” moaned Aemond as his hips jerked involuntarily.

“But it feels so good” replied Vaena as she slowly moved down on his cock, so only the tip of him was inside her.

“P-Please” whimpered Aemond.

“Uh-uh” said Vaena shaking her head from side to side.

After a few minutes Aemond couldn’t take it anymore and seized his wife’s hips, before surging up and ploughing his hard cock into her soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" screamed Vaena.

"Gods. You feel so good-missed you-" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Vaena, her tone bordering on desperate as she rolled her hips against his.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

“P-Please. Husband” whined Vaena as Aemond began teasing her pearl with his thumb.

“That’s it-take all of me”

“OH-MY-“ shrieked Vaena Aemond began to move.

"Faster, please" begged Vaena.

“Like this?” replied Aemond as he gave a quick deep thrust.

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Vaena.

Her hands ran along his arms, over his shoulders and down his chest, digging her nails into his pale skin.

“Gods, Vaena" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond" whispered Vaena "Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me, filling me up. Give me what I need. Give me your seed. I want it”.

Aemond knew exactly what Vaena was doing, and he couldn’t help himself.

Vaena wanted faster and he was going much faster now, his feet planted on the bed to give him more leverage and his pace increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips as he pounded into her.

“Aemond-I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaena; not caring if anyone could hear them.

Vaena always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her amethyst eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond then withdrew, ignoring Vaena’s whimper of protest as he rolled her onto her back and quickly sheathed himself inside her again.

She wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, drawing him closer as he began to thrust inside her, his cock reaching deep inside.

“I-I’m going to give you my seed-” moaned Aemond.

“Yes-oh don’t stop-please Aemond” whined Vaena.

“I’m going to put another babe in you-See you full of milk-”

“Y-Yes A-Aemond-I want another. Give it to me” whined Vaena.

That, combined with how glorious Vaena felt, pushed Aemond over the edge, the heat shooting across his abdomen.

“-I love you-love you so fucking much-my wife-don’t leave me again” babbled Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he spilled his seed inside his wife’s wet heat.

After they had got dressed Aemond and Vaena worked quickly, their movements synchronized as they made the necessary preparations to leave. The tension and urgency of their situation lent them a sense of purpose and determination.

As they packed, Vaena presented Aemond with the bag containing Silverwing’s eggs.

“What do you want to do with these?” she asked, her eyes reflecting both the gravity of their situation and the love she had for him.

Aemond took the bag and laughed softly. “You truly are something special,” he murmured, marvelling at her brazenness not only had she absconded with a dragon that wasn’t hers, but three eggs as well “They need to be kept warm and safe.”

Vaena nodded, carefully wrapping the eggs back up. “We’ll protect them,” she promised.

Aemond then mentioned his plan to raid the treasury. “Most of the crown’s wealth has been divided and hidden, but whatever is left should be more than enough for us,” he said.

He left for the treasury, returning a short while later with a sack full of coins, along with some of his mother’s jewellery he had managed to steal, and a necklace that was pressed into his hands by Helaena who bid him farewell, he apologised to her for how he acted, but she simply smiled and told him that the eye of the gods was closed to him now.

He packed his weapons and anything else of value from his chambers.

Their dragons were large enough to carry what they needed, and they prepared Aerion for the journey, making sure he had something to eat and was well wrapped up.

They told him they were going on an adventure, and his face lit up with excitement.

Aemond then left the guards with simple instructions: “Guard the Red Keep until the Dowager Queen returns.”

After gathering all their bags and ensuring the ancient sword Blackfyre was securely attached to his waist, Aemond took Aerion’s hand, and the three of them made their way to the dragons.

Aerion eagerly wanted to fly with his father, and as they strapped themselves into the saddles, Aemond took one last look at the Red Keep, its imposing towers silhouetted against the sky. The only home he’d ever known was now lost to him, instead of sadness he felt a strange sense of relief, that finally for the first time in a long time, he could choose his own path, he could forge his own destiny.

He checked one last time that Aerion was secured safely in front of him and then he took a deep breath.

“Sōvēs” he commanded Vhagar, his voice steady and resolute (Fly).

Vhagar spread her massive wings and ascended into the clouds. Moments later, she was joined by Cannibal and Silverwing. The three dragons soaring together, leaving King’s Landing and everything else behind.

Alicent returned to the Red Keep from her meeting with Rhaenyra, her heart heavy with the weight of her decisions. She felt overwhelmed and heartbroken. The image of Rhaenyra’s cold determination haunted her, and the reality of what she had agreed to gnawed at her soul.

In three days, she would open the gates, command the guards to lower their weapons, and surrender the city to Rhaenyra.

Sacrifices would need to be made to regain peace, but she would be steadfast and see an end to this ceaseless war.

Upon reaching her chambers, Alicent immediately poured herself a cup of wine. She downed its contents in one gulp, hoping the liquid courage would steel her for the days to come.

She needed to appear as she always had done—composed, resolute, unwavering. But the turmoil inside her was relentless.

As the wine settled in her stomach, Alicent allowed herself a brief moment of vulnerability. She sank into a chair, the enormity of her decision washing over her. She had betrayed her own sons for the sake of peace.

Aemond would shortly be leaving for Harrenhal, unaware of the treachery she had committed. Aegon was broken beyond recognition, and both were to be sacrificed for the greater good.

She had chosen the lives of her daughter Helaena and granddaughter Jaehaera over the rest of her family, and the weight of that choice threatened to crush her.

Alicent’s mind raced with thoughts of Aemond. He had always been her strongest, her most determined child. She had seen his ambition and his anger and now she was about to betray him.

The pain of it was almost too much to bear, but she knew she had to. She had to put an end to the bloodshed, to the war that had torn their family and the realm apart.

She stood up, straightening her spine, and took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to show weakness. She needed to be strong, for the sake of the realm, for the sake of those she loved. She brushed away the tears that threatened to fall and steeled herself for what she must now do.

Alicent walked to the looking glass and assessed her reflection. She adjusted her gown, smoothed her hair, and ensured her expression was one of calm determination.

She could not waver. The realm needed her to be strong, to be the Queen they had always known. With one final deep breath, she turned away and left her chambers, ready to face the consequences of her actions and the role she must play in the days to come.

She would not waver. She could not waver. The future of the realm depended on it.

Alicent approached Aemond's chambers, noticing with a sense of unease that there were no guards stationed outside. The absence was peculiar and unsettling.

She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. For a moment, she considered walking away, but a feeling of urgency pushed her to act. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, calling out to Aemond.

But only silence greeted her.

Stepping inside, she glanced around the room. The wardrobe door stood ajar, drawing her attention. She walked over to it, intending to close it, but stopped short when she saw that it was empty.

A sinking feeling grew in her stomach as she moved to the drawers, pulling them open one by one, each revealing the same emptiness.

As she stood there, her foot brushed against something small on the floor. Bending down, she picked up a wooden dragon figurine, instantly recognizing it as belonging to her grandson, Aerion.

Just then, a maid entered the room. Alicent turned to her, a mixture of desperation and anger in her eyes.

"Where is the Prince Regent?" she demanded.

The maid looked at her calmly and simply replied, "Gone."

Alicent's heart raced. "What do you mean, gone?"

The maid explained, "The Prince Regent left the Red Keep some time ago in the company of Princess Vaena and their son, Prince Aerion."

Alicent was baffled by the maid’s admission. Instead of questioning her further, she turned and swiftly left the room, her mind reeling. She needed answers, and she knew where to find them.

She hurried to the council chambers, hoping to find someone who could shed light on what was happening. As she entered, she found only Jasper Wylde and Maester Orwyle engaged in quiet discussion.

"Where is Aemond?" she demanded, her voice sharp with anxiety.

Both Jasper and Orwyle looked up, surprised by her sudden entrance.

"Your Grace, we have just received word that the Prince Regent has left the Red Keep. We were about to send for you."

"Left?" Alicent echoed, feeling a mix of relief and fear. "Where has he gone? Why?"

Jasper cleared his throat. "Princess Vaena arrived earlier today and spent several hours with the Prince Regent in his chambers. It seems that after their time together, they departed from the Red Keep with their son”.

“T-To Harrenhal?” asked Alicent.

“No. Your Grace. His dragon was last spotted flying over the Kings Wood”

Alicent's mind raced, trying to piece together the implications. She could have sworn she had seen Vaena lurking on Dragonstone.

Then a  thought struck her like a blow—what if Vaena had overheard her conversation with Rhaenyra and had immediately flown to the Red Keep to warn Aemond?

Without another word, Alicent left the council chambers and hurried to see Helaena. She found her daughter sitting quietly in her room, gazing out of the window.

"Helaena-" Alicent asked urgently, "Have you seen Aemond?"

Slowly Helaena turned to her mother; her expression serene. "He has gone and taken his heart with him"

Alicent felt a pang of despair “He cannot just leave. H-He has d-duties to attend”

“Duties which no longer hold meaning” whispered Helaena, as she held out a scrap of parchment.

“W-What is this”

“He asked me to give it to you” replied Helaena softly.

‘Alicent,

I know of your treachery and your willingness to sacrifice the lives of your sons in favour of the pretender. For years now, I have suffered the indignity of being the second son and have been unwavering in my duty, but it was never good enough for you or Father.

I tried my best to keep us alive, but it seems my efforts are all for nothing. I have abandoned the throne, just as you have abandoned your sons, and I will no longer fight to save the undeserving.

My wife and son are all that matter to me now, and my future lies with them. I hope your efforts to secure the throne for your beloved Rhaenyra are worth it. Maybe now you can mourn me, Mother. I lost you, but I have gained so much more in doing so. At last, I am finally free.

Aemond’

Alicent collapsed into a chair and sat staring into the flames, Aemond's note clutched tightly in her trembling hands. The weight of what she had done settled heavily on her shoulders.

She had made arrangements with Rhaenyra, hoping to secure a fragile peace by offering the lives of her sons.

But now, Aemond had abandoned King's Landing, and her carefully laid plans were in ruins.

What would happen now? Rhaenyra would come, as promised, to take King's Landing. She would discover that Aemond had fled, and would accuse Alicent of aiding in his escape.

Alicent's heart pounded as she considered the consequences. Aemond was responsible for the death of Rhaenyra's son, and there was no way she would allow him to live his life free from the consequences of his actions. Not with her own daughter, Vaena, standing by his side.

Alicent felt a surge of panic. She had underestimated Rhaenyra's resolve and overestimated her ability to control the situation. The absurdity of her plan now struck her with full force.

She had hoped to protect her family by betraying her sons, but in the end, she had driven Aemond away and left herself vulnerable to Rhaenyra's wrath.

She rose from the chair and began pacing the room, her mind racing. She needed to think, to find a way to salvage the situation.

But what could she do? Aemond was gone, Vaena and Aerion with him. She had no leverage, no cards left to play.

Her thoughts turned to Helaena and Jaehaera. She had advocated for their lives, hoping to secure their safety. But now, with Aemond's departure, would Rhaenyra honour that agreement? Or would she see it as another betrayal?

As she pondered her next move, a sense of resignation washed over her. She had fought for so long, schemed and plotted to keep her family safe. But now, she realized, there was no way to win. The game was over, and she had lost.

All she could do now was try to minimize the damage and hope that, somehow, her children would survive the storm that was about to descend upon them.

Epilogue.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

5 - A War of Tragic Beginning

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 18.5k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, mentions of executions, discussions of war, blood and violence, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, slight dom/dub dynamics, casualties of war, major character death, unexplained mystical phenomena, slight canon divergence

Notes: I have no excuse for the length alright, I apologize. Anyways, I told you this was a slow burn, so strap in because we are in for the long haul now. Series Masterlist Here.

Little news had come out of Kings Landing since Robb had received your raven about his father being injured in the streets by the Kingslayer. Maester Luwin had tried to maintain an air of rational saying that things are likely too busy but it was an unspoken look between him and Robb that talked of a worry about what as to come. Once word from you stopped coming, Robb stopped sending, the likelihood of anothers eyes intercepting any word between you, too much of a paranoia.

He had kept busy, falling into his fathers role as Lord of Winterfell more naturally then he had once feared. You had assured him the morning you left that you had every confidence in him, and a boyish part of him hoped that you’d be proud for seeing the right future in him. Bran was still getting used to his older brothers new demeanour having separate Robb from him as a brother and his more common demeanour now called Lord Robb. If he remembered correctly, he didn’t have too different of a point of view when he was a child.

Still very young, and his only other sibling, only friend even being Jon, Robb had many memories of having the free time to watch his father assume a role he was never meant to have. Winterfell was meant to go to his Uncle Brandon, and once the war ended, his father had to quickly learn to take this role over. Days his father was in court, he was much more stern whereas in the quiet of the night was when he finally could see his father laugh and joke.

Robbs nights however, weren’t filled with the same peace. A plot by the Lannisters to murder his brother that none seemed to know why, his father, sisters, and wife away in Kings Landing where the only word was him being attacked by the same Lannisters, and his own brother, his closest companion for his entire life now up at the Wall swearing his entire life to a whole new family.

It was Jons choice, but somehow it made it harder to accept.

Somewhere along the lines, Robb couldn’t help but realize that he should’ve done more as his brother. He should’ve made Jon’s life less of a series of obstacles to jump over, should have stepped in more between him and his mother’s anger. So much of Robbs life had changed so drastically so quickly.

His father named hand of the king, leaving for the captiol with both of his sisters, his brother falling from a tower in a plot to murder him, his brother leaving for the wall, and now to add being tossed into a sudden marriage with one of his oldest friends and only having one night together before she too was dragged to the capitol. Even just a year ago, Robb would’ve had Jon there to talk it out with.

They’d ride to some challenging terrain in the woods and spend the afternoon switching between jesting at the other for complaining and reassuring the other. They were both good at that, or at least Jon was. Robb once more, regretting not being more of that reassuring support to his brother when it would have mattered the most. But at least Robb could’ve gone to Jon to stop the noise in his head screaming about you.

Jon knew you as long as Robb had, and he had a better friendship with you as well. He was close with you for so many years and that was nothing to scoff at but there was a quiet understanding you and his brother had that he was thankful for. Whatever Robb couldn’t see, you always did, and vise versa. Robb had only started to work with you in the training yard, because Jon had started teaching you first. Were the one brother he could talk to still here, maybe he wouldn’t feel so strange about his feelings over you.

Robb wasn’t blind, he knew all too well you were pretty. By the time you had come to Winterfell when you were fourteen and had matured considerably since the last time he saw you, Theon who had not met you by that point made an off handed comment about being the one to teach you what a man looked like. All three of them were around sixteen at the time and he could still see the glaring and aggressive looks both he and Jon gave him instantly. But he wasn’t wrong, you were very pretty.

There had always been a spark of something there, but something in Robb told him to hold off on acting on any of it. Your friendship regardless was fond, soft looks that always warmed him on the inside and eventually Robb simply had matured enough that if this was all there was then it would be alright. Then the letter came.

Something about the morning you came to his room, nervously trying to get out that you didn’t want their first kiss to be in front of the way too big crowd of the wedding set Robb alight. The fact that you did want to, the softness of your lips and skin under his touch and the sigh that Robb didn’t even think you realized you let out dragged him down.

It was duty to marry, but you were someone he cared about, and neither of you were shying away about what being married would entail. He had to guide you that night, and as he watched you nervously collect yourself in his room looking out the window he truly felt like some lecher. His eyes unable to stop looking at you in a way he never really did before and how easily you melted under some of the lightest of touches made him want to ruin you.

It scared him how easily you two fell into something neither thought you’d ever even have, how well you felt around him and how responsive to his touch you were. And now not seeing you for months, not even knowing if you were okay? It made Robb desperate to talk to someone about how on edge it made him feel. Like he was too protective, his thoughts about you too obsessive and he needed someone who understood him to work through his mess of a mind over you.

He couldn’t really talk to Theon. He trusted him like a brother, easy to forget he was a ward, a prisoner, when they both treated each other like he was just meant to be there. But Theon wasn’t the right one to talk to about you. His interest in girls was always just sexual and Robb couldn’t even remember a time he talked about someone in any kind of romantic way. Being so far apart so soon after marrying you was messing with his head.

But, that feeling only got worse. A raven came from Kings Landing, and as he stood there with Theon and Maester Luwin, that confusion turned to rage. Holding it in his hand he looked it over again. “Treason?” Looking up to Luwin he felt as confused as he was enraged. “Sansa wrote this?”

Luwin was doubtful but confident, “It is your sister’s hand, but the Queens words. You are summoned to Kings Landing to swear fealty to the new King.”

His blood growing hot he couldn’t even bring himself to read the words another time, for case he tore it up on the spot. “Joffery puts my father, and my wife in chains and now he wants his ass kissed?”

Luwin spoke low, offering a reason that as Robb only imagined the right of you and his father tossed away in their dungeon, sunk to the lowest parts of the sea. “This is a royal command, my Lord. If you refuse to obey..”

His voice was confident now, the Lord Robb that Bran would call him. It felt drastic, but as every other scenario played in his head, none came to mind that sat alright with him. “I won’t refuse. His Grace summons me to Kings Landing, I’ll go to Kings Landing. But not alone.”

This was it, he says these words and he has chosen his, his families, and the Norths course of action but as he looked at Luwin, he didn’t see the look of someone who didn’t trust him. He saw the same support and loyalty that he’d seen towards his father many times over.

“Call the banners.” Asking to be sure, asking if he truly means all of them and he didn’t blink nor pause to respond. “They’ve all sworn to defend my father, have they not? Now we see what their words are worth.”

Luwin was proud, even if he didn’t say it. They’d dismiss him as a boy, but that was not the command of anything but a man and a leader.

It took some of the houses far sooner to get here, the North was vast but as they arrived it was with no doubt or offence. It would be a few days before they could expect all of the banners, should all of them prove their loyalty at least, and it left Robb tense.

Unable to relax, there was a constant clench in his jaw, a heavy set in his shoulders that hardened each passing hour. Grey Wind stuck dutifully by his side. He didn’t have the words to explain it, but there was a connection he had with his direwolf, something that he was sure if he brought up to Maester Luwin, would be dismissed as his imagination. But Grey Wind always knew what Robb was feeling it seemed and at times, Robb didn’t know why but it felt like he was controlling him as if he were the true wolf.

It was that sense which he put trust into that night. Grey Wind grew agitated and worked up, Robb letting him out into the main yard thinking he may just be in need of a good hunt as all of these men converged on Winterfell.

Robb was speaking with Maege Mormont when it happened, the howling of Grey Wind, a chattering just outside and the galloping of a horse. Drawing him out the doors, Robb had barley stepped onto the gravel below when his eyes deceived him.

You were feeling truly exhausted. Not having slept in days, and the second you had landed in White Harbour you heard of the banners being called and made one hard ride to get here. The no food and barley any water wasn’t didn’t make you any less shaky either. Climbing off the horse, you could only look at Robb as you struggled to catch your breathe. Looking at him, he was more of a leader then when you departed, and you were certainly not similarly better off.

He called your name, and it was hard to remember if you went to him, he you, or met both ways but all you could really recall was collapsing into his arms. Robb pulling you tight against him, one hand wrapped around your lower back and the other cupped the back of your head to hold you close to his neck. Your name once more murmuring quietly from his lips, being hummed into the side of your head as you tried pulling back. “No, no, no, relax. Hold onto me, okay?” That warm voice almost made you cry, soothing in a way you hadn’t heard or felt in months you only managed to wrap your arms around his neck before Robb swiftly scooped you up.

Turning his head away to the crowd you heard him command someone to fetch Maester Luwin, only to turn back to you quietly when you tried shaking your head. “He’s looking you over, and that’s final.” A command in his voice that was well suited on him.

A woman’s voice shouting in the background as Robb brought you inside to, “You heard him, get your asses moving,” He chuckled into you when your brows furrowed slightly.

Your eyes tried fluttering shut, so in need of sleep but Robb slightly adjusted his hold on you to be tighter and higher, “Don’t fall asleep on me now.” You tried to speak, mind racing to get it all out at once but he shushed you with a gentle murmur of your name. “It’s alright, relax for me first. Let’s just make sure you’re okay before we do anything else.”

Sitting you gently onto his bed, you winced to sit up against the headboard as Robb took to the edge of the bed facing you. A hand running over the side of your face, his bright eyes narrowing with flashes of anger at the dirt and cuts still scattered about. Your hand gently reached up, grasping at his wrist and holding it there as you ran a thumb over his pulse. Still as strong as it was when you left. “I’m fi-”

“You’re not fine, you could barley stand for two seconds the second you got off your horse.” Opening your mouth to protest, Robb called your name firmly with his other hand gently at your waist. “You going to force me to make it an order?”

Smirking weakly, you felt some of your insides come alive too at the soft one he returned. “You ordering me around as what, Lord of Winterfell or my husband?” A playful scoff left his lips as he leaned in, sliding the hand on your cheek to gently hold the back of your neck. “I’ve only just gotten back, my Lord. A little patience wouldn’t hurt.”

You barley saw him roll his eyes before he pressed his lips to yours. Nothing firm or pushing, just an ever so gentle kiss as he ran his thumb over the back of your neck from his firm grip. Your hands weak, only willing to grasp at his waist before he already pulled back. Meeting your eyes, you wanted to pull him back at how much was overwhelming his.

Both of you looking to the door as Luwin came in, a genuine look of relief in his eyes as he closed the door behind him. One that was so much more real then any of the people around in Kings Landing.

Robb stood close by as he watched him check you over. Answering his questions, where certain marks came from and Robb’s jaw tightening with each explanation. “They are mostly innocent, should heal in a matter of days but you are okay. I can get someone to fetch some food and water for you,” he looked up to Robb “and you make sure she gets some sleep.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, “You’ll need all the energy you can to deal with the lot out there.” Laughing weekly, you leaned your head against the wall behind you, covering your face with a long sigh, collecting your thoughts.

“Are you up to telling us what happened?” Hands falling down to your lap you nodded, much more serious then just before. Glancing between Luwin and Robb you explained as best you could. About looking into Jon Arryn, the King’s death and what Renly and Petyr Baelish tried to propose and by the time you got to what truly occurred you felt the same rage you did in the moment.

“He played us for fools. Trusting him, the city watch, all of it.” Your eyes on the fire at the opposite end of the room glazing in the flames as you saw it all again. “He was right, she didn’t care what we were going to do, she knew. Cersei knew we wouldn’t stay quiet and she counted on it, we were always going to get thrown into those cells.”

Luwin relayed what the raven from Sansa had said, and you confirmed what Lord Varys had told you himself. “She’s still engaged to Joffery, and as long as she is she’ll be safe.” Pausing with a tilt of her head, “Relatively safe.”

You hadn’t mentioned Arya and neither did the letter, “What about Arya?”

Shaking your head, a weaker feeling passed over your eyes. “She’s still in the city, and if she is they’ll find her. They’ve got eyes everywhere, someone will see her and Cersei will likely keep her under close watch.”

Luwin had thought it over, “The Queen needs them alive, especially now. Three Starks to trade to prevent war.” Robb asking what about you, and the glance between you and Luwin said it all. Your eyes narrowing as you looked down to nothing as he was far more grim. “She’s not just your wife, she’s Stannis Baratheons daughter, his heir.”

Your voice was tight, yet fooled no one of the strain behind it. “If I didn’t leave when I did, I wasn’t coming out of there with my head.” Missing the restrained anger in Robb as you failed to look at either party in the room. “If somehow they beat my father, then the claim passes to me.” The words felt heavy and unnatural on your tongue as you said them. “Then they really can’t risk it.”

“You’d be dead either way.”

Turning to meet his eyes, you knew the rage behind his stilled expression all to well. A rage many Starks held and one that you had seen in his father as things continued to get worse. He wouldn’t lose it here though, with his fathers bannermen outside there was a real place to channel that rage.

Luwin left you both alone, going to ensure someone sent you up something easy to down as Robb came back to your side. Sitting close enough now that he could lean his forehead against yours, his hands on your cheek and waist while yours found enough strength to gently slide around his neck.

Despite how you both got here, there was no doubt that in this very moment, Robb felt like home and how much you truly had missed him. Maybe it was too strong or too soon, but now wasn’t the moment for you two to talk about that. Right now as he waited for someone to bring you something, you both sat in the others presence. Appreciating both the quiet and the feeling of the other in your arms, but like that day by the Weirwood as everyone else left to give you two a moment. Just quiet closeness to reassure the other, it had to be about you two now and your heart was much lighter at the sensation of how easy it was getting to allow it to be that way.

You’d remember your strange dream that night in the black cell later, the one of fierce cold and fire and the urgency in the rasping voice that you once knew but couldn’t place the longer you were away from the dream. But right now, it was the soothing, all consuming warmth of the one you vowed to be with.

Laughing to yourself, he pulled back with a slight grin. Running a hand over your hair, “What?”

Maybe it was how tired you were, but it just slipped out no matter what you had just tried to tell yourself not to do. “You make it too easy to fall in love with you, you know?” Robb’s eyebrows raised and his eyes lit up playfully.

“Do I, now? Do you want to elaborate on that at all?” Rolling your eyes you tried turning away but he gently pulled you back. “Oh no you, don’t. You’re in my bed, you’re not getting away that easily.” Leaning in he brushed his mouth against yours as he spoke, “How about my pretty little wife tells me all about what’s made her cold, hard, exterior fall for a man like me?”

You smirked as you felt your insides fluster, you were exhausted and for days on end now, in a constant state of panic and yet here Robb was making you feel like a little girl as he teased you. Part of you felt guilty at how Jon had simply known you’d find it easy to do so, but looking at Robb you knew not only did he deserve to be loved but you wanted it to be from you.

Something about these Starks apparently spoke to you. One real father away on the island of your home and yet the one you worried for was the wolf trapped away in Kings Landing. So much of the men in your family found no love or affection for the women in their life and yet both of Eddard Starks eldest sons found their own unique way to make you soft on the inside.

Pushing forward to kiss him yourself, Robb sighed into your mouth. His body relaxing a bit more like you both could only put on a ruse like this for so long. Pulling away just enough to press his lips to your cheek and down your jaw you smiled weakly, “You’re supposed to let me rest.”

Humming as he kissed your neck, it almost tickled from the brush of his facial hair. “I never said you had to do anything, my lady. Just relax, and take it like a good girl.” Oh he was unfair, he was not allowed to make you shiver like that now of all times.

Lightly pushing him back, he breathed a laugh at the knock at the door, sitting back to give you space as he called them in. To your surprise, the door was rather busy. One made sense, Grey Wind having found his way inside, no doubt also keeping to Robbs side more as people arrived. Some likely unsure of being around the increasingly growing dire wolf, and seeing him obey at his masters side would lighten that doubt.

The three others, one was a large man you recognized as Hodor carrying little Bran who upon seeing you widened his eyes and exclaimed your name. Nodding to the bed, Bran glanced at the large man with a polite, “Please, Hodor”.

Steps loud and large, Hodor reached the bed where Robb gently took his brother himself to sit up up close to you the way Robb was. Bran reaching forward the same time you did with a hug, you burying your face at the top of his head running a hand over his back, little exchanges of “I’m so glad to see you,” followed by an “I missed you too.”

Pulling back he sat in front of you as you looked up to the other woman. Not a face you recognized but putting down a tray of what looked like a simple broth and bread. She avoided your eyes but curiously glanced up as you moved your head to meet hers. Bran spoke up first, “This is Osha, she’s-”

“One of the free folk.” She paused before adding on a quick, “My lady.” That sounded unnatural from her mouth, which given who she was you supposed made sense. A quick glance to Robb he nodded calmly that he’d explain later but assuring enough to trust her. Gesturing towards Bran, her voice was deep and with a bit of a rasp that sounded strained, but appeared to just normal. “The little lord heard you’s was here and wanted to see you.”

Thanking her, she turned and slunk away as you watching curiously before looking back to Bran, running a hand over his hair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you woke up.” He seemed to be in better spirits then what Robb had written to you about, no doubt time doing much of the help.

You three sat for a while, you slowly working away at the food while Bran sat, leaning slightly against Robb as you all pretended like the world outside the room wasn’t awaiting death and war. You noticed Rickon wasn’t there, but Luwin later would tell you that Robb calling the banners had almost sparked something in the six year old that made him spend more time on his own.

You felt for him, he was too young. Bran was as well, but at ten he was better equipped to handle and understand the situation. Growing late into the night, Hodor took Bran to bed as Robb insisted you sleep, noticing it was getting harder for you to keep your eyes open.

By tomorrow night almost everyone should be arriving or close to, and when they did? You and Robb were to be put to the real test. A lifetime of being raised by respected lords and leaders and the question of not only could you both be leaders, but did you have it in you to do it together.

Morning came early, far too early but you had woken up in a way you could barley remember by your return. The sun just lightly shining into the window from the more cloudy northern skies, a warm fur draped over you as you lay in a bed, one actually soft and forgivable on your muscles. But it was the warm body behind you that pulled you out of your sleep.

One large warm hand draped over your hip has caused your shirt to ride up ever so slightly, enough that it let him slip under and explore whatever he could find. Sometime during the night, he seemed to have pulled away the thick of your hair out of his way, giving him the space to rest his own head partially against the back of yours and enough for Robb to have pressed a few gentle kisses to your neck when he joined you in bed hours after you fell asleep.

The stone walls of his room were so much more relaxing then the brightness of any quarters you had in the captiol. Twisting slightly, you tested if you could move without disturbing him, but Robb just adjusted in his sleep to whatever you did. Turning to face him now, your hands rested gently in the small space between you.

You wondered if you looked so calm, so at peace in your own sleep. Somehow you doubted it, Robb was the better one to look at in this pair afterall. His brown curls once more tinted red in the morning light, begging you to gently run you fingers through them. Trying not to jostle, you sighed quietly at how soft they were and how easily you could play with his hair.

This..well this was something unique for you. For everything that had your heart before him, the only time you’ve ever had the real grace of waking up next to someone to intimately were dark, stormy nights on Dragonstone. Nights when Shireen had snuck into your room and whispered if you could let her sleep in your bed tonight.

But waking up like this was something you only had once before, with the same man. This time your exhaustion wasn’t from any memory you wanted to look back on, this time it was the scattered fears of fleeing a city wanting your head no doubt. Just as you tried to shake off such a thought, Robb’s brows furrowed, eyes still not open.

His voice matted in sleep, accent thick as anything and slurring together as it came out raw. “You trying to drive a man crazy this early in the morning?” Opening one eye with a playful annoyance you breathed out your own laugh in return. Robb flipped onto his back, arms pulling you along with him, your body cuddled into his side as your head rested closer to his chest.

Moving in closer, you felt your limbs buzzing at how new yet normal it felt with him. “I’m not allowed to admire my husband?” If the way his grip on you tightened, so freely calling him that stirred something within that man.

Keeping his eyes sharp on the ceiling with a smirk sliding onto his lips, Robb let one hand trail down your side. “Not when it riles him up so easily, and you’re supposed to be resting.” His hand said something different however. His palm rough on you as it made its way to your waist, stopping to greedily squeeze the soft skin he could grasp at. His smirk grew at the skip in your breathe.

Your own eyes narrowing playfully as you gently ran your own hand over his chest. Pushing the open sides of his shirt off him to give your fingers room to explore without anything in your way. “I’m supposed to be. Didn’t stop you from getting in the way of that last time.”

Mistake. That seemed to be a mistake. Robb shoved his hand down your hip and thigh, the force of the action shoving your pants down with him. Turning slightly to see you better, you weren’t nearly as teasing or daring as your words. It only made him bold.

Suddenly moving so that you were the one on your back and Robb learning over you on his side, his face looking down your legs as he yanked them the rest of the way off one leg. Pulling back to hover over your bottom half he grabbed the other side and yanked it off as well, tossing the article to the floor like it offended him.

He didn’t give you a chance to return the favour. Climbing up your body, Robb just as roughly pulled your shirt off as well leaving him mostly clothed and you laying back in his bed completely bare. His eyes raking over yours he found himself pausing, “How is it you look even better then I remember?”

Not giving you a chance to answer, Robb leaned down and captured your lips. His kiss much greedier then last night as he wrapped an arm around your back to pull you up into him. Your hands running over his chest and pushing the material off of him enough that you could grasp onto his shoulders.

One hand grasping your jaw to tilt your head to stay exactly where he wanted. Your knees parting without thought to let his hips slide into the space as he hovered over you more. Biting you bottom lip, you could feel the sting from his force pulling a gasp from you. Robb chuckled darkly into your mouth at the high pitched sound, using the perfect opportunity he wanted to slide his tongue into your mouth.

One hand raking up into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as he dragged his tongue along yours while his hand on your jaw gave you no choice but to let him taste you at his mercy. Dragging his fingers along your inner thigh as he dragged them slowly across your folds, you jolted and grasped onto him tighter when he dragged his nails over your clit.

Moving your neck to push your head into the pillows, he granted himself access to your neck with bites not letting you ease into it. Gasping his name, Robb smirked against your neck as he bit and sucked at the skin with much more ferocity then he had your only other night together.

His fingers slid back down your entrance and back up in the same tease as before with no pause, your thighs now sat the side of his own hips shaking slightly as you exhaled trying to keep composure. A feat not worth fighting as you let a whine slip as Robb pressed his lips firmly to a sensitive spot of your neck that he could feel soak his fingers more. Slipping them up to your ear your eyes fluttered as his warmth breathe ran over it, “Is it really this easy to make such a composed woman into such a needy thing for me?”

Another whine failed to swallow down your throat before he heard it. Pushing up onto his knees he pulled the rest of his shirt off. Reaching for his own pants he paused, hands right at the lace when he looked up at you with a dark need. Slowly Robb moved his hands to slide over your thighs and grasp at the skin.

Your chest heaving you couldn’t stop glancing down as your veins burned in a need. “Robb-”

“You want my cock?” It should’ve been shameful how you didn’t even think to nod, but his eyes only grew darker. “Be a good little wife and pull it out for me, then.” What should’ve been more shameful was how quickly you sat up to obey him. The way he looked at you like you were just a juicy piece of meat all for his ravishing hunger made your brain feel foggy.

Looking up at him, you undid the lace slowly pulling the material down. Just as you freed his cock, he grasped the back of your head, keeping your eyes on the thick length begging for attention. You couldn’t understand why you felt so willing to do anything he wanted or asked, but it was like having only him and his touch in your thoughts was a craving. Your hands gently grasped at his hips as he still knelt above you, his voice thick as anything. “It’s all yours. Just ask for it.”

“Please, Robb, my lord, I want you in my mouth.” Were he not spreading them you’d have clenched your thighs together at how tightly he fisted your hair as he almost hissed at you. Unable to risk speaking, he pushed your head forward.

You licked the tip of his cock, eyes closing at the salty taste of precum already leaking out. Moving to take the rest of his length into your hands, he tsked at you with a tightening in your hair. Fingertips flexing, you kept them on his hips as you took his tip into your mouth. Sucking gently as you licked what you could it, it didn’t miss you that even just this he stretched your mouth wide.

Ever so slowly, he allowed you to take him at your own pace, your own saliva building up and coating his cock the deeper you took him. Pushing past a certain point only a little over a third, your heart skipped a beat of what felt like panic. Robb however, seemed to sense it, loosening his grip and more massaging where he held you at your hair, his other hand reaching for your neck. His thumb gently running up and down your throat, as you felt your heart steady and your muscles relax.

“That’s a good girl. You can take all of me, I know you can.” How was he so calming yet making you even wetter all at the same time? It took some time, Robb muttering small praises before you were more then halfway down his length.

You pulled back a bit, as Robb guided your head himself now to pull your mouth up and down his cock, the sight of your closed eyes enjoying as you bobbed your head on him too much. His head falling back with a needy groan, something which might be your name thrown in there as he let you take this for now.

The more you sucked his cock, the more you forgot the world around you, the more worked up you felt on the inside and the more eager you became to take all of him. His length throbbed just as he yanked your mouth from him. A trail of saliva caught between his length and your gasping lips as you looked at him. Soaked from your mouth and shining from how much you spread his own precum along as well.

In an instant, Robb shifted. Pulling you up to his lips as he leaned down to yours. “Turn around for me,” He muttered between another kiss.

Without thought, you moved onto your hands and knees as Robb yanked your hips up more, forcing your face slightly towards the bed. One palm sliding over to roughly grasp at one of your ass cheeks he swore with a grumble under his breath. The other went to gather the wetness between your legs and ran across your clit with two fingers. You gasped as the spark of pleasure burned your core as he was firm and rough in his touch.

Pressing himself closer the tighter the rough circles he had on your clit, the more overwhelmed you felt from it. Head dropping you found it hard to breathe at the constant touch and Robb behind you left your ass to drag up your spine and grasped the back of your neck. Pushing you to stay face down into the sheets as he slid the two fingers deep inside you. Pumping quickly for only seconds before pulling them back out and up to your clit again as you begged with “Please,” and breathless “Robb- oh fuck,”

The hand on the back of your neck made you feel like an animal forcing to obey their pack leader, but perhaps that's exactly what this was. He was the wolf, and you were the mate on your hands and knees soaking his hand. Only Robb’s own need was strong.

Just as you moaned, the fire inside you burning to bright and snapping, your orgasm washing through you did Robb push inside. His cock just as soaked from your mouth and what his own touch gathered from you, he slid in deep way too fast.

You were too slick inside and he sunk deep enough in one thrust that you could’ve cried, but you may have cried more if he pulled out. Pausing, Robb leaned over you, his cock that way pressing firmer inside as he rested his forehead against the back of your own. “Fuck- I should punish you for keeping a cunt this good from me for so long.”

His hips started to move, and they were not gentle but maybe they shouldn’t have been. The pace was fast but the roughness was unrelenting to the point that you could only dig your hands into the sheets and brace yourself. He felt so thick inside of you and his thrusts so fast and rough that it took your words and your breath but not his own.

Biting at your ear he slurred out in great desire as he pounded into you, “My perfect girl, perfect little wife so fucking good for me, taking my cock,” You whined his name and his laugh almost sounded somewhat delirious. “Oh fuck, clenching around me like you want me to spill inside of you already, That what you want? Want me to fill you up already?”

You barley could nod from how pressed into the sheets you were, but you would’ve stayed that way for as long as he kept fucking you so intensely. “Anything, fuck anything Robb please,”

His strength was less rough but his pace was deliciously cruel. “Don’t say that, don’t you fucking say that if you don’t mean it.” His entire chest laid over your back as he buried his head into your neck rambling. “You have no idea the thoughts that run through my head about you, no fucking clue. You’d run back to your father if you knew the things I want to do to you.”

You cried out his name, reaching one hand blindly behind you to grab onto him and grasp his hair like your own anchor. “Please, I mean it, I mean it I promise. I’m yours, fuck-”

His words spitting into your skin as he pushed your orgasm right back to the edge, his cock having to pound into you with more force just to fuck you as deeply as you clenched so tight around him. “You’re mine, pretty girl?” You nodded but he needed more. “Say it. If you’re mine tell me, fuck tell me you’ll always be mine and I’ll fill this cunt right fucking now.”

Nothing else came to mind, only him. “Always. I’m yours, Robb. Now and always,”

The angle was awkward, but as Robb turned you to bring his lips to yours with force neither of you cared about how messy it was, how your teeth bashed against the other at one point as he kissed you and fucked you, he dragged your orgasm right around his cock.

Crying his name into his mouth, his deep groans turned to moans as he came as well. You could feel his seed, more thick then you remembered and somehow so warm as he filled you up. As long as you were still feeling shocks of pleasure from your orgasm, somehow you kept milking Robbs cock for all he could spill inside of you.

Both of you were ragged, out of breathe as he stayed inside you, laying atop you as neither tried to move him or yourself. It was a while you stayed just like that, his touch turning to gentle and soothing eventually. His voice turning much warmer and soothing again as he lulled you back to the present with soft nothing whispers.

You two only had one other night in this bed, and yet today was your last for you didn’t know how long once more. Only this time, as the men all gathered on Winterfell, you’d decide on final plans before departing and then in the dead of night?

It would be the true final judgment, did your lives truly prepare Robb and yourself for war. But at the very least, you both had the other for however this journey took you both. You weren’t going to sit idly as war fought alone for the father who made you feel as he was yours as well.

For all his faults, you at least understood what it was about Northerners that you could see would greatly put off your father. Some of these men you knew, others you didn’t but there was no question that they saw you as part of the dynamic. Maege Mormont took a liking to you right away, with a comment that would’ve flattened your father and sent him walking into the sea were it him.

“And those ingrates said you didn’t have enough of the North in you.” An arm wrapping around your shoulder, she pulled you into her tall, large frame fondly. “Looks like our lady here got plenty of Northerner in here last night.” Her other hand nudging at the marks you had quickly realized just wouldn’t get covered.

Robb had smirked quite proudly to himself when you realized he had done so on purpose.

The laughs though, didn’t put you off. From everything you’d heard about the woman next to you, your tongue slipped the words out easily as dry as ever. “I can hear the bears all growling without you to warm their nests from here, Mormont.”

Grasping your shoulder she shook you with a hearty laugh as did the others. Introducing you to her daughter, Dacey. Just as large and imposing but with the same grin on her face as she forewent the formalities with you as well.

Maege had been the one to give you the run on which lords were which and what houses you didn’t already recognize. Normally with a greeting and nudging you up yourself. Knowing the men you’d fight beside with was not out of the ordinary for you, you knew most of your own fathers bannerman by sight but the ease of their handshakes and talk put your mind at ease.

Northerners were different then you, for many reasons you got along with them but at the end of the day you to anyone else would be seen as the enemy. You grew up in the Crownlands, your Uncle was the King and your father one with his own claim down south. Your blood was that of the Andals, theirs of the First Men and yet the ones who didn’t trust you spoke to you and found little to care about in those differences.

And the others, well seeing how you already knew a number of these houses was answer too. It was hard to remember, that across the continent, another war was being prepared by the one man it seemed the Crown thought you’d stand by.

But you were told to stand by your family, and if Eddard Stark had not made you feel as if he was a father to you already? You lived half your life in the North, with these people, your heart belonging to more then one. And now you were Robb’s wife, and that made you a Stark to them more then those who still saw you as a Baratheon.

As the sky fell, more plans begun to form and a camp was in mind that would be the first act of taking them all out into the field. Draped in a fur and standing so confidently at Robb’s side you could feel the starting of looking at those who made such promise of council.

Having come over to greet Robb, you were then met with a pair of curious eyes that sat on the face of a very hard to read man. His voice was smooth and with a quiet kind of power his handshake to you felt unusually tight. His eyebrows raised however, when you squeezed back with your own strength as he now kept his eyes on you. “I must say, my lady, you are surprisingly exactly what I expected.”

Your face remained impassive as you struggled to find something behind the polite gaze. “And what would that be, Lord Bolton?”

Then there was a small half smile on one side of his mouth. “Your father has quite the reputation as a commander. I see much of that in you.” Nodding his head to Robb, “The lad is lucky to have you by his side.”

He and Robb shared an easier look before he pulled you a tad closer with a playful tug around your waist. “That I am. I’d be a fool if I just left her here after spending all those years knocking her into the dirt.” You narrowed your eyes playfully as his smirk grew wider. “Hey, I didn’t say I was still doing it.”

Bolton looked at you with a curious gaze. “I look forward to finding out how a southern girl fairs against her own kind with the North at her side.”

In the moments as he walked off you and Robb were silent before you spoke up. “You’re sure I should come with you?” His eyes narrowing as he turned to stand at your front. “You don’t think it’s a mistake having me at your side out there?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

Shaking your head, you tried turning away crossing your arms over your chest. “I know how to swing a sword, but maybe that doesn’t mean I have the right to be out there with you and these men.”

Robb grabbed your upper arms, not a trace of amusement in his eyes and a sternness in his voice as he looked at you. “How many wars have you fought in?”

“None.”

“How many have I fought in?” You tilted your head at him in indignation but he ignored it. “How many?” You repeated the last answer. “Exactly. You’ve been in as many battles as I have. You’ve trained like I have, and yet none of those men are telling either of us we should just stay here and let them do the fighting for us. They trust me to lead them as I’ve called upon them. And I trust you.”

You looked off at the nothing in the growing sunset for a bit, your voice smaller then you wished. “It’s paralyzing. Not knowing that it’s really going to be like.”

You didn’t see it but Robb smiled softly. Tilting your chin to look over at him with two fingers he leaned down to you. “At least we’ll be scared shitless together.” He pressed a short kiss to your lips before pulling away and tugging you into his side.

“Now come, we have a bunch of men in the main hall all clambering to yell about which one of them gets to do the most killing.” Huffing a laugh, you thought back to your father once more.

Certainly, a very different atmosphere then the kind of army he commanded indeed.

The more ale in their bellies the more rowdy they became over it. Robb had you sat by his side in the hall, Bran beside him on the other table end and Grey Wind having found a place between both of them on the floor. You felt for him, having to watch his brother leave off for war and leaving him in charge of Winterfell at only ten.

At the opposite end of you and Robb sat quite a large and imposing man. Greatjon Umber has a loose tongue and a louder yell as discussions continued. “For thirty years I’ve been making corpses out of men, boy. I’m the man you want leasing the vanguard.”

With one elbow on the table resting over your mouth your eyes narrowed slightly at the roundabout debate continuing on. Robb beside you was stern yet too growing agitated. “Galbart Glover will lead the van.”

Greatjon acted as if he’d just been served piss stew as he scrunched his face up in offence. “The bloody wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover.” Robb leaned forward, resting both hands together in front of him, his shoulders tense. “I will lead the Van, or I will take my men and march them home.”

You rose your head high, a narrowed look that caught Brans attention before Robb’s did. His eyes were unamused when he looked to Greatjon. Sitting back as his voice came out rough and yet unwavering in tone. “You are welcome to do so Lord Umber.” Standing slowly he braced his palms on the table as the ferocity didn't even blink in his eyes. “And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker.”

“Oathbreaker?” Jumping from his seat, Robb stood straight as you and multiple others stood from yours in defence. The man pushing his luck a great deal too far had silence wash over the hall. “I’ll not sit here here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass-”

In an instant something that caught stuck with you played out. Not even half a second went by, did he reach for a blade by his side did Robb’s eyes narrow slightly and a growl let out. Grey Wind leaped up onto the table and in a few short steps lunged onto the man grasping at his hand with his teeth.

A snap echoed as Greatjon yelled out in pain on the ground, while Grey Wind calmly returned to Robb’s side. Calm as the wolf had been moments before the outrage as Robb scratched behind one of his ears staring still at the rising man holding his bleeding hand. “My lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against your liege lord. But doubtless. The Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me.”

Throwing his chair to the side, none moved but all with watching unsure eyes as you and Robb both stood next to each other with still gazes. “Your meat...” Something in the man seemed to dull back down as he looked around the room then back to the two of you. Realizing in his haste, he had pushed Robb too far and bore the punishment for the subordination. He rose his bleeding hand, and so did he lighten his tone. “Is bloody tough.”

A different air in a Northern Army indeed, as both men started to laugh as did the hall join in with ease as the tension melted down to nothing. Crime committed, justice given and both men could look at the other knowing their limits. For a quick second as the man looked at you, a smirk on his face as Robb placed a hand on your thigh, the touch burning as if his blood ran hot from such an encounter.

“No wonder you fit so well, lass. I’m not the only one whose got a wild bite or two in ‘em now am I?” Gesturing with the bloody hand to your neck, maybe you should feel ashamed for such marks be so glaringly obvious but the laughs that came weren’t at you. In fact a fair few seemed to be of an amused approval.

Robb beside you, tightened his grip on your thigh. Roughed up by a wolf indeed, you were. Only you’d ask for it, even beg for it at this point. The warmth of Robb beside you, the heat of the castle, and yet for some reason as you glanced at him? Feeling something grow inside of you at how easily he sat there in control of such a rowdy barrage of soldiers?

You felt a strange wave of cold, a cold that felt just like that image of fire and rasping tone that so far away from you now, you couldn’t quite recall what it was you had dreamt. But the cold returned as you sat there, at Robbs side preparing to leave for war.

It didn’t last, but it wasn’t the same cold that the army had all left into. Whatever cold and the distant rasp seemed to be trying to get to you with, was something that not even the furs around you shook off.

For only a second, you thought of ice.

Snow had begun to fall once you had reached Moat Caitlin. Only a light dusting that stayed not long after hitting the ground but it felt fitting. The North left for war and this brought the cold with them.

You had all left in the middle of the night, eyes could be on you at any time and under the cover of darkness was the safest bet. Robb took no chance at allowing the Lannisters to find out they were coming. You both had looked back at Winterfell one last time before turning to the other. If the other had nerves running through their heart, neither of you showed it.

A number of you stood in one of the tents, around a map as word reached you all of both forces against you. Tywin Lannister had his army planted close to the Trident and had the numbers, but with a lesser number still greater then the North had, Jaime Lannister was besieging Riverrun fast and pushing them back close to their tails.

“Lord Tywin has more commanders at his own camp-”

“Jaime’s moving faster through-”

Your eyes trained on the map, seeing the forces move in the stillness of the image as you looked to the numbers coming to mind. Either choice was risky, yet the lands that surrounded them spoke to different fights to come. The man around you speaking in your watchful quiet, “Our scouts confirm it’s even larger then the Kingslayer’s.”

“One army or two, the Kings in the North threw back hosts ten times as large.”

You were quiet but the eyes you as you spoke both had a similar understanding. “We worry about their numbers to ours we’ll be here until they find us. We push on Tywin and there’s nothing around us except to chance us against theirs.”

Roose Bolton glanced to you curiously, “What are you suggesting?”

“If we break-” Multiple lords at once looking up, had you and Robb turn to a sight that you hadn’t expected. Lady Catelyn stood with Ser Rodrick almost with a look between shock and worry on her face to the scene she arrived at.

Her and Robb shared a moment where they hesitated to embrace in front of the men, almost making you smirk. Truly there was more love in that little moment then you think you’d ever seen publically from your father in a lifetime. Whatever image of leadership was at their thoughts was already far too much for Stannis Baratheon.

Lady Catelyn smiled at her son in front of his men at the minimum.

Looking at you, she found a far sight from the stripped down emotions you two shared in Brans room as he lay unconscious. Had you asked her, you reminded her far more of the detached reputation of Lord Stannis. You nodded once at her as she requested, “I would speak with my son alone. I know you will forgive me, my lords.”

In a quick moment, you found yourself feeling unwelcome. Not to any fault of hers, but you found yourself pulling from Robb. His quick touch to your waist pushed back gently as you jolted your head to the entrance of the tent. “You heard her.”

Beside you, Theon was shoved forward as well. Greatjon snatching him like wrangling a child, “You too, Greyjoy. Are you bloody deaf?”

The pair of you came beside the other as you gave the pair space to talk, you not looking back at what still didn’t feel like your place. Theon however, felt no qualms of bringing it up. “You’re as much her family as you are Robb’s you know.”

Face flat, you shrugged a shoulder. “She said alone. Can’t be alone if I’m there.” Looking forward you could see Grey Wind wandering along the edges of the camp, eyes trained on you without having any need of. You thought of that day in the hall before looking back to the men around you. Theon kept looking as you shook your head. “What?”

Stopping, you turned to look at him as he looked not like he did to a superior he served, but just as the boy you spent years with at Lord Stark’s side. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Brows narrowing in confusion he stepped forward with an eye roll. “Your father’s off on an island about to declare war on the Lannisters too and you’re not with him. Don’t try and tell me that doesn’t make you feel a bit fucked up.”

Oh, oh this is not what you wanted to talk about at all. It was hard to tell if you gave anything away in your expression as you looked to him. “Robb’s-”

“A husband that he chose for you.” Something inside you felt uncomfortable, not with Theon but with an implication you were clever enough to pick up on. “I’m just saying, you’re still that old bastards daughter and if he’s the one with the actual claim to the throne then that-”

“Don’t.” A harsh almost whispered hiss that took him back. You did not want to hear this, that was not the life you chose and not something you were meant for. “I’m not fighting for a fucking chair, Theon. I’m here for the Starks. That’s all.”

The air between you was thick at the sheer amount that neither of you were saying, and it wasn’t lost on you how he didn’t chose his path to serve this House as you did to marry into it. If he was almost one, as he was insinuating that you could be one right now?

Absolutely not. You wanted nothing to do with this, and neither should he. He tried saying your name and you shook your head. “We are not discussing this.”

You hated whatever the hell this had turned into. Something unspoken and volatile swimming between you both that if you wanted nothing to do with, you pleaded on the inside for him to drop it as well. It was not the same as what happened then. This was about Lord Stark, about the girls, about keeping together the family that had made you both like one of their own.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Grey Wind perched closer by with an eeiry aggressive look in his eye looking in Theons direction. Nervously looking between you both, he backed off with a genuine regret. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

“It was.” A mere second passed before you exhaled. Looking around the camp with a much easier time breathing before turning to stand more beside him as you felt the brush of Grey Wind come to sit close next to you, your hand reaching down to run over his head gently.

“Now that you’re married, is it wrong of me to say you look sexy in that armour?”

Whatever he tried to bring up, now gone into the wind once more. It wasn’t a life meant for either of you, and you knew it. So you both stood there and laughed. Nudging him with your arm he nudged back as you both glanced with a small smirk. “Still look better then you, Greyjoy.”

If something more was running through his head, it was impossible to say, but you laughed together and felt less like you both were here armed and armoured for bloodshed. But once more two people who had long bonded over irritating duties and even more distant fathers.

Running your hand over Grey Wind you spotted Maege Mormont over in the distance, what looked like yelling but could just be her natural manner when story telling. The rowdiness of the northern army stood out so much more. The only other army you’d truly seen ironically was what led you to Theon.

Your father had taken charge of taking down his uncle, Victarion Greyjoy and his Iron Fleet in the Straits of Fair Isle. A victory which allowed your uncle, Robert and Eddard Stark to gain access to the Iron Islands and end the rebellion. In exchange for Balon’s life he surrendered his ambitions to take his crown and gave his last living son up as a ward to the Starks.

Victarion as far as you knew continued to serve his brother and the third, Euron had been banished for crimes that you need not think about. That was a man who was a true Iron Islander. Does and takes what he wants, only paying what they called the Iron Price. If they want something they only get it by taking it. Standing next to Theon though?

Watching other Northerners? You two felt similar. Neither of you belonged with these people by blood, but in many ways you also didn’t feel at home with your real blood. Balon hadn’t been Theon’s father for ten years and Stannis had not treated you like a real daughter in the ten years since Shireen was born either. Yet you stood here now, accepted amongst these kinds and both someone of great importance to Robb Stark.

But still, perhaps what was spoken between you? Was just the insecurity of both, the worry that you wouldn’t be seen as one of them, and the wonder if you should be? For now, all you had to focus on was getting the Starks back.

Everything else now was secondary. This wasn’t a war of anything but justice.

It was Catelyn who later found you, “It seems our families can’t stop going into war together.”

Looking up at her from where you had been partially leaning against a tree, your tilted your head in mild agreement before looking back out to the camp. “Perhaps the crown should stop giving us reasons too.” Clearly there was something else on her mind, but you could see she was struggling to find the right words for it. Pushing up you stood next to her for a moment before speaking up. “I shouldn’t have left.”

Her face shifting into something confused before it morphed more into a motherly concern, saying your name consolingly you just shook your head and looked straight.

“No, I know I shouldn’t have. I thought I didn’t have enough time to get to him, or find Arya or Sansa and I just left. I was there to stand by your husband and do my duty, and I failed that.”

You could sense part of her wanting to come closer, the soft embrace of a mother but with your arms crossed and a distant harsh stare she looked down before taking but one step closer to your side. Not that she said anything, but it didn’t fail to occur to Catelyn that her own reunion with Robb was likely nowhere near anything you’d get should you see your own father and mother again.

The truth she spoke wasn’t sugar coated at the least, “If you had stayed there, the Lannisters would prefer your head on a spike then to even consider trading you.”

A whisper, but one without fear or pain as if you had thought of it too many times to be bothered anymore. “Knowing Joffery, he’d have it sent to my father. Paint a nice picture of what he was willing to do to keep his uncle from taking his throne.”

It bothered Catelyn that this didn’t seem to horrify you as it did her or Robb. “And yet you still think you shouldn’t have left? What would that do, whose justice are you serving by rotting away in a cell?”

A question you thought you knew, but the more you considered it the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that running wasn’t how you were raised. “We both stood in that room and committed the same crime, but I’m the one free and he isn’t. My duty was to stand by his side, what should these men think of me? Knowing I fled that?”

“Your duty is also to stand by Robb’s side, is it not?” Shoulders tensing, you felt tightness in your chest that put a pressure on your lungs. “There is every chance we can get Ned and the girls back safely, but you’re also Lord Stannis’s daughter. Cersei thinks she has no reason to fear us, but she does about your father. And killing you sends a better message then keeping you alive.”

Your eyes were trained down on your feet, a noise in your head that begun to turn into an ache. “I’m willing to wager trading your families lives in favour of my own would’ve caused a lot less bloodshed.”

She had no chance to respond, Robb’s warm voice coming up behind you both. “You mind if I steal her away?” Catelyn relented, but a look between them spoke of a worry in her eyes as his hand found it’s way to your lower back and pushing you forward. Beside him was a larger man, a harsh narrowed almost glare on his face and an armour that was dissimilar to the men around him but a little more like the lighter material of yours. The black colour also flared out in what looked like scales.

Robb introducing you both, and the design clicked. Brynden Tully, known to many as the Blackfish. You nodded to him as he watched you back with a curious look. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, my lady but I would’ve much preferred it to be anywhere but here.”

A weak willed half smirk slid onto your face for only seconds. “Same to you.”

Robb could sense something wasn’t quite right, but it just wasn’t the moment to address it nor did he suspect you were going to make that easy. He’d seen Theon talk to you about something and since then it was like something changed in your brain and kept you at arms from everyone around you.

At least it’d be easy to get out of the Greyjoy what he said then to try and force you to explain what was bothering you. He knew all too well you tended to keep it bottled up until it exploded.

The area around the table was crowded as those present huddled to debate their movements, plotting out who was where in the process. Robb was standing at the head, you and Theon on either side of him. Ser Rodrik to your left, then around the bend was Greatjon Umber, Brynden Tully, Rickard Karstark then closing the loop beside Theon was Roose Bolton.

Night had fallen on the camp and a decision needed to be made now if they were to have any chance at riding ahead of any scouts from the opposite end. Roose Bolton leaning forward as he debated his own stance. “We need to get him on broken ground, put his knights at a disadvantage.”

Greatjon was loud in response to the former’s more quiet tone but with no less fever. “No, we need to get around him and break Jaime Lannister’s siege of Riverrun. Do that and the River Lords will join us.”

Peeling your eyes from the map you met the man’s eyes, a spark of agreement that had you both give the other a very slight nod. Loud and brash, but he had a better point in your eyes. Robb beside you had his eyes much like yours on the map as he plotted out in his head. “To do either we need to cross the river, and the only crossing is at The Twins.”

Palms braced on the table, you scratched at the wood with your nails slightly. “Robb’s right, we need that bridge, but Lord Frey isn’t going to just open the gates and let us pass. Or if the Lannisters have bribed him to their side.”

Brynden Tully rapped his knuckles lightly against the map, “We get to the Twins, then what is it going to be? Do we move against Jaime, or Lord Tywin?”

The answer on Robb’s tongue was interrupted however, two men dragging a small man covered in grime in between. “Pardon, my lords. We’ve captured a Lannister scout.”

Both you and Theon taking an edge and throwing it over the other half to cover the pieces at play, catching the Greatjon’s amused attention. “Don’t you worry, he won’t be leaving this tent with his head.”

Robb watched the scout with careful, dark eyes. Calmly asking where they found him. “In the brush above the encampment. He looked to be counting.”

The quiet in the tent was thick, the only sound being Robb making his way around to the front never taking his eyes off the nervous scout. Coming in front of him, he still made no move that put him at any less fear. “How high did you get?”

Eyes darting around the room before looking back to him, “Twenty thousand. Maybe more.”

Leaning forward, you watched Robb who had yet to give anything away but you could see the gears in his head click into place. Ser Rodrick beside you, knowing him still as a boy tried to offer an out. “You don’t have to do this yourself, your father would understand-”

Turning to him, Robb looked not like the boy he thought he was speaking too, and his voice as sure as any of the seasoned fighters in the tent. “My father understands mercy, when there is room for it.” The men around you far more looked with less confidence as he looked back to the scout. “Let him go.”

The smallest whisper of protest was let out, but a pride filled you with how quickly it was shut down as Robb turned to look at them all. Only as his eyes met you, did yours narrow slightly with a tiny tilt down of your head almost like a nod of yes. You could see the conclusion, both Greatjon and Roose were right.

Stepping towards the scout, Robb leaned in close, voice low and a dangerous authority to it that ran shivers down your spine. “Tell Lord Tywin, winter is coming for him. Twenty thousand northerners marching south to find out if he really does shit gold.”

Almost shocked at leaving with his life, the scout had some decency before being dragged out. “Yes my lord, thank you my lord.”

It appeared, his choice was not yet clicking in some. Both Roose Bolton and Greatjon Umber appeared their own distinct variety of angry but it was the hulking size of the later that rounded the table to get into Robb’s face. Almost spitting as he scolded him, “Are you touched boy? Letting him go?”

Without even a blink, Robb was quietly calm and unflinching. “You call me boy again.” Greatjon leaned forward as did Robb. “Go on.”

Greatjon stammered, taking a leave with nothing more then a huff. A rowdy man that you suspected wouldn’t quite temper that aggression until Robb could prove his worth, a worth you had no doubt in whatsoever. Turning back, he looked to you as your eyes shined with a proud and impressed glaze over them, pulling the map back Robb assumed his previous position. Two carved wolf heads being put down in front of each carved Lion.

“Once we reach below the Neck, we split into two.”

The plan had to move fast, whatever negotiation with Lord Walder Frey was going to have to be done quickly. Roose Bolton would lead two thousand men to the Green Fork and sneak up on Tywin in the early morning before any word could reach him or Jaime Lannister that the main force of the army was sneaking right up on the kingslayer in Riverrun.

If the scouts were correct, you’d come right up behind him at Whispering Wood but first as you stood on the hill in sight of the crossing at the Twins you knew time was ticking. Theon stood primed with a bow, ensuring no word was coming in or out by raven. So far none stood out, and none were directed anywhere but as letters to other Freys, the last one read out by Theon, “A birthday to his grand niece Walda.”

“Or so Walder Frey would have you think.” Catelyn looking to Theon, “Keep shooting them down, we can’t risk Lord Walder sending any word to the Lannisters.”

You and Robb stood next to one another, the tensity in your veins seemed to twist and connect to his as you stared at the bridge in the bright barley rising sun. “Father rots in a dungeon, how long before they take his head? We need to cross the Trident and we need to do it now.”

Theon looking over to him, “Just march up to his gates and tell him you’re crossing, we’ve got five times the numbers. You can take the twins if you have too.”

Watching the sight you could only see the darkness of the black cells you knew Eddard Stark was still tossed into. “Not in time, Lord Tywin will either get too far north to surprise or he’ll hear word from his own scouts before we can get Bolton and his men at their heels.” You and Robb glanced the other, an urgency in both your eyes. “For six hundred years they’ve exacted their toll, we need to get in there and make a deal now.”

“Have my horse saddled and ready.” Peeling his eyes from you, Robb looked to his mother who turned to look at him with her own disapproval.

“Enter the Twins alone and he’ll sell you to the Lannisters.”

Others threw out other suggestions, but if you were to get across now there was no use in standing around debating how to go about it. The longer it took as well the was increasing the chance that you’d lose the ambush on Jaime. Robb shutting down his mens protest. “My father would do whatever it took to secure our crossing. Whatever it took, and if I’m going to lead this army I won’t have other men doing my bargaining for me.”

Just as he looked down to you, Catelyn spoke up. “I agree. I’ll go.” The protests were just as loud as before but there was a calm confidence in her. “I have known Lord Walder since I was a girl. He would never harm me.”

Something turned in your stomach, like it was filling up with blood and threatening to spill out from a slice inside it. Only Robb heard you, gripping your wrist with a thumb over your pulse to ease you down as you whispered. “Unless he had a profit in it.”

Nerves raced within you the longer time ticked by, an antsy feeling that refused to give up no matter how calm others around you felt. You supposed this was normal, that most in your position felt this way but the passing of time had you staring out to the water like jumping in would wash away the growing lurch of anxiety.

Sat down on a high stone nearby, you had one arm laying across your chest as your elbow rested on it to bring your nails up to your lips. Threatening to tear at the skin until a rough hand slid across the back of your neck firmly. “You know it never felt real until right now.”

Robb didn’t question, just coaxed you to stand up. Facing you now his hand drifted more to the side of your neck so his thumb stroked at your jaw. His blue eyes bright in the morning sun and an anxious pang smacked you at what was to come once more. You grabbed at his wrist, turning with it so he rested it alongside your collarbone and you leaned back into the cold armour on his chest.

“All these men, they all came at my call. Following my commands, but they’re all far less terrified then I am.” Your hand tightened against him with a furrow of your brows. “Maybe they’ll know we’re coming, get the jump on us and then I lead them all into a slaughter.” You could feel him glancing at those whom were to be headed towards the Kingsroad into Tywins forces. “More then I already am.”

His voice was deep and rough in your ear as he forced himself to stay calm about it. “I thought the scariest part would be the prospect of yourself dying when I was a kid. I never understood why my father didn’t even blink twice when he set out to take out the Iron Fleet, but I think I get it.”

Your heart raced and your limbs itched to move as you both stood there, “I’m not just watching you sail off to war and hope you come back. I’d have to watch it, or even worse have to live with myself knowing I survived and you don’t.”

He didn’t show the fear he spoke of, it was kept tight in his chest and you wished you had that ability to stay so together. “Then we just don’t die then.” You could feel the small grin in his voice, bringing one out of you as Brynden approached.

“Pardon the interruption, but I know two scared shitless kids when I see it.” If the anxiety weren’t so strong you may have felt flustered at how Robb didn’t move an inch from you as he turned to his great uncle. “Saying we all felt the same before our first time won’t help, but it’s true.”

Robb holding you an indeterminable amount of tighter, “It’s not just being able to fight, I have to lead these men. My father needs me to lead them.” His voice was controlled, not letting much get passed an even tone.

Coming next to you both, Brynden from that angle reminded you a lot of Catelyn. Tougher, brasher and far more authoritative by nature you assumed, but you could see the same worry in his eyes that you had seen in hers many times. “If you weren’t good enough to lead them you would’ve have gotten all them this far anyways. Not just anyone can command twenty thousand men for the first time. Gods know Edmure doesn’t have that kind of leadership.”

You hadn’t met him, but from all accounts he seemed to be in a similar place as Renly once was in the trio of siblings. The youngest and the one which didn’t have the same kind of authority that ran deep in the families blood. At least the Tully didn’t see fit to crown himself and tear the family apart.

Not a single Baratheon was working together, and yet the Starks and Tullys both seek to work together for the sake of a cause of family and justice. The only Baratheon who is even with another of your family is Shireen, but being ten she didn’t count. You were quiet in volume, but the more you leaned against Robb the calmer you felt. “Your fathers a good leader, for all his faults mine is too but I think that’s the problem.” Robb looked down to you, his curls brushing over the side of your head slightly. “You’ve gotten us this far on your own merit, and we didn’t follow you because we expect you to be like Lord Stark. We all followed you because we trust in you.”

Brynden nodding to him, a fond look in his eye to his great nephew before looking to you. “And you’re certainly not your father.” Looking over with a raised eyebrow he shrugged his shoulders as his arms crossed his sleek black armour. “Trust me, us riverlands folk might be more forgiving, but that lot wouldn’t trust Robb if they thought you’d bring him down.”

You bit your tongue, keeping your face impassive. “Guess I die, we’ll find out if that's true.”

Maybe on another day this talk of death would’ve put Robb off, but this was your first battle as it was his. You both knew the others skill, but there was too much at stake in this battle. You lose this and you lose this entire fight for Lord Stark’s life. You lose this with your life? Even worse.

Jaime would have yours and Robb’s head sent to Kings Landing and no doubt Joffery would parade them around the court boasting about what fools the northerners are. You had been in a cell expecting that to be you, but you’d rather throw yourself down in front of the court then have the same done to Robb.

Some time passed before Robb spoke up again, “What do you think he’s asking? Walder Frey?”

Brynden rose an eyebrow with a grimace on his face. “Be thankful you’re married already. There’s nothing Frey wants more then to spread that damned family of his across the kingdoms more then their ugly mugs already are.”

You never considered yourself attractive, your mother was never spoken of like the beauty of the Stark women, your own sister whispered as “that ugly daughter” like they had any right. You briefly wondered if he’d be better off with a pretty Frey girl, a strangely childish and girly worry while you waited to send men off to battle.

By the time Catelyn had returned, you all were quite antsy through the whole camp. Those whose blooded their swords before ready to jump atop their horses and go, and others worried about how long it would take before it was too late in the morning to not be spotted early.

Looking up, she seemed to have an air of relief about her. Robb beside you spoke first, “Well? What did he say?”

All in the tent dropping with a sigh as she spoke, “Lord Walder has granted your crossing. His men are yours as well.” The Greatjon letting out a small sound at the news. Numbers were indeed what you needed desperately with the events about to come. “Less the four hundred he will keep here to hold the crossing against any who would pursue you.”

Now comes the part all dreaded as he asked, “And what does he want in return?”

“You will be taking on his son Olyvar as your personal squire. He expects a knighthood in good time.” You held off a smirk at the easy dismissal from Robb, more of a nuisance then a burden at the least so far. However, “And Arya will marry his son Elmar when they both come of age.”

You and Robb did share a glance at that one, you could genuinely hear her yelling about such a thing from here. You tilted your head with a slight grimace, “She won’t like that one bit.” Catelyn paused, making you both worry. “And?”

She sighed to herself, glancing at Brynden. “When the fighting is done, Edmure is to marry one of his daughters. Whichever he prefers.” So Arya wouldn’t be the only one causing a fuss over this deal it seemed, but it was so. Crossing was granted.

As the horses mounted, the drawbridge crossed you, Robb, and Roose Bolton passed first. The pair of you nodding to the man, his own confident back. “When we meet again, my lord, my lady.” Watching two thousand men ride off in the direction to get the jump on Tywin Lannister you and Robb looked at one another.

For everything you worried about earlier, it was that sight and that sight alone that had you both feeling unwell. Roose was a skilled man and a terrifying one at that, but the men he led weren’t being drawn to a fair fight. They were cattle being tossed onto the Lannisters for slaughter as you jumped on the other.

You and Robb looked at one another as the men all crossed to the other side. His voice was even and confident like the man you’d seen last night. “You with me?”

You exhaled the shaking on the inside. “Now and always.”

The feeling you had watching the men head one way was the same feeling Catelyn had the watching her son and his wife lead the others in the opposite. Ser Rodrick stayed behind with her, from the point of safety when she refused to leave. The longer the two of them waited, the more she felt her heart tear itself up.

When she had watched Ned ride off to war over two decades ago, she had found out soon after she was pregnant. Robb was the thing that carried her through being alone in that war and now she sat atop her horse, waiting to see if that same son would come back. A son who started a war to rescue his father.

And you. As she waited, Catelyn felt she hadn’t given you the chance. She’d known you since you were a little girl, watched you grow up on and off in her own home and see her children and husband consider you one of their own. But the older you got, the more your friendships started to form and she couldn’t help but think she let one of those get in the way.

It made sense, out of all of her husbands children you and Jon Snow were the most alike. The quieter ones, a little more reserved and closed off and tended to be on the sidelines. A night she remembered vividly, you had been twelve and Jon fourteen, you two had snuck out in the dead of night. Arya was barley two, and was terrorizing Cat’s sleep by doing nothing but fuss and cry at night.

She walked through the second floor outside, gently humming her newborn to sleep when she saw you both come into the yard from the stables. The pair of you soaking wet, head to toe clothes and all as Jon was walking you both forward, his arms wrapped around your front as you could barley speak through teeth chattering laughter.

Apparently having snuck out to ride to a small lake in the dead of night, Jon had picked you up and tossed you in the water, and when you went to climb out, he jumped in himself and dragged you back with him. You both were so comfortable with the other in a way she hadn’t seen from you and Robb, not that you and him weren’t friends but she’d just never seen Jon like this.

It was painfully obvious to her in that moment, Jons crush. She didn’t know when it went away, but the older he got the less she ever saw it until it stopped occurring to her. You were younger, you were only twelve and hadn’t even bled yet, you weren’t thinking of boys that way. The boys did though. Robb, almost fifteen by then had confessed to Cat that he thinks he liked you and it was seeing that same crush in her husbands bastard son’s that made her put a block up.

That crush went away for Jon, and eventually it seemed to simmer down for Robb as you both became adults and had other duties to attend too. But she always kept something in her mind as if it was your fault that you were just closer to Jon. Like you chose a side, but where were you now?

In the thick of Whispering Wood fighting by your husbands side, by Robbs side and she felt ashamed for not having looked to you like the daughter you were now. You both didn’t marry in love, but the foundations were all there.

She hadn’t accepted that when Robb called the banners, it was you he was also fighting for, and yet you were the one who fought your way back to him first just so he didn’t have to ride into war alone. She’d seen the way her son looks at you and it wasn’t fair of her to dismiss you like you were just another soldier in his army.

Catelyn saw the way that you only ever looked like there was truly a living breathing emotional woman in there when you looked at her son. The way you and Robb would grasp at the others wrist was just like that day in Brans room. Grasping at the boys wrist, feeling his pulse as weak as it was to remind yourself that he was indeed still alive.

You hadn’t lectured her, judged her, or said anything but your own understanding of her grief. You hugged her, kissed the top of her head like she was the child in need of comfort and not you. And she hadn’t given you any of that courtesy from the moment she returned.

“We should go, my lady.” Catelyn didn’t even look at him as she refused. Ser Rodrick leaning closer with more urgency, “My lady..” But horses were in the distance. And Catelyn would see them no matter what.

Hearing them gallop and neigh before beyond the treeline did they appear, dark ones all around the edges and two light ones up front. Was it a laugh or a sob that left her? Maybe both. But she smiled none the less.

You and Robb both rode next to the other. Grime, dirt, blood all covered him and you as your eyes trained harsh and forward. Your nerves had all but been shot out of their existence and your heart no longer pounding from your chest but weighing down inside of it. It was both everything you expected and yet none like it.

It was worse but not the nightmare you imagined somehow, and through it all the victory was with no question. The Lannisters had bigger numbers but were overrun like they were sparkling boys of summer unable to keep up. As you had been taught, you weren’t ever going to be strong like them. So you were quick, dodging all the lessons came back to you in many voices at once that blended together until you acted without them.

It was truly hell, but not one that you couldn’t do again. You’d only ever seen the Kingslayer almost overpowered once when he was up against Lord Stark and this time it seemed he had only become cockier for the worse. A man like him looked at Robb like a boy, young and inexperienced that was in over his head until blood was seeping from his face at Robb’s mercy.

Men trying him up with no care of how rough they handled him, Robb had looked to Grey Wind as his teeth bared and the blood pumped in his veins. Grey Wind snarling at the Kingslayer before running to where he had kept track of you.

Robb cared not who saw him stride up to his wife, and grab you by both sides of your face pulling you into a biting kiss before checking you over to see if you were hurt. If the men had anything to laugh about such a display, let them, he said.

Now as the man all surrounded the area, you climbed off your horse as Jaime Lannister was dumped onto the ground in front of Robb. Coming up to his side, you stared him down with nothing more then dark eye. Being jostled up onto his knees before you both, he looked up to you and had finally decided which house he saw fit you belonged too. “Lady Stark. I’d offer you my sword, but I’ve seemed to have lost it.”

His smug face and bright green eyes had once been described as handsome but they all painted him in a vile image as did the voice attached. “I’d take far more from you before that, Lannister.”

Theon stood behind him, the blood in his veins having not yet cooled he was loud and worked up as he spoke with vigor. “Kill him Robb. Send his head to his father, he cut down ten of our men. You saw him.”

Eyes now dark and glaring, Robb spoke low and calm as the eyed the once great fighter on his knees bloody and broken. “He’s more use to us alive then dead.” Standing there, he looked truly like the wolf he was meant to be.

Glancing up at Greatjon you nodded to him, “Put him in irons, feel free to make sure they’re tight.”

Grabbing him roughly, Greatjon yanked him up as Jaime just could not control that mouth of his. A flaw he never outgrew it seemed. Twice your ages and more of a patronizing child in the face of the Stark who beat him firsthand. “We could end this war right now, boy. Save thousands of lives.”

Call him a boy, you thought but he was more of a man then the Lannister had ever been in his entire life. Letting him spill out his little speech as he watched with no taste for the games. “You fight for the Starks, I fight for the Lannisters. Swords, lances, teeth, nails choose your weapon, and let’s end this here and now.”

Robb didn’t hesitate against him. “If we do it your way, kingslayer. You’d win. We’re not doing it your way.”

You nodded at Greatjon to take him away, him snatching him up and dragging him along, “Come on, pretty man.”

The men around you and Robb cheered, smiles and yells for what they’d accomplished. But you and him looked not at them, not each other. His voice broke your heart as it was full of sorrow, “I sent two thousand men to their graves today.”

Theon trying his cheer, “The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice.”

Lannister called Robb a boy, but there was man beside you. One full of a painful responsibility that he felt in his bones, one that was no game or glory that he knew rested on him. “Aye, but the dead won’t hear them.” He stepped towards you, arms pressed up against the other as you both looked out to the men around.

Robb twisted his hand, grabbing your wrist and you did his. Both of you feeling the beating pulse of the other under their thumb, and pressing against it with harsher pressure in desperation. His voice was loud, cracks as he cared not to hide the weight of their losses. “One victory does not make us conquerors. Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the Queen?”

You held each other tighter as he pleaded the reality to his men. “Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees?” There was quiet amongst them. “This war is far from over.”

Robb looked to you finally and you back, not letting go of the other for a while after. But he was right, this war was not yet over. Only, the war he set out towards burned in front of you when the raven arrived as hours turned to a passing day upon its landing.

Dragged away from the other as the slimy words of Janos Slynt coated your ears and his roughness scratched you up, the last you saw of him was the shocked, angry betrayal as you were forced from the other. The last you saw of him was the seconds after you both had put your lives on the line for the sake of the truth, and as it turned out it would be the final time.

Silence was painful in the camp that day. Defeat heavy in the hearts of men who all came together and just as they begun it was taken off of them. You heard not the quiet words of the soldiers you passed, and you didn’t know if they thought you cared. Face cold, staring forward with nothing but a shaking will power to stay stoned and together in front of them.

You felt no breathe leaving or entering your lungs, but they screamed at you as the world felt fuzzy and the sensations coming to you felt unreal. You had reached a clearing that was scarce by the edge of the camp as you collapsed with your back against a tree.

Kneeling over all alone you gasped, ragged breaths that stung and did nothing to settle you. The panic and gut churning anxiety of what you had done, left behind to such a fate made you feel sick and horrified. Someone on an island you once called home, Stannis Baratheon was alive and well.

So why did this feel like you lost a father? Why did the last thing you did, being smuggled out of the city without Eddard Stark feel like you were at fault and you had the sword in your own had that did it? Why was the world spinning and your breaths coming out in cries you hadn’t noticed?

For years you knew him, and now you felt as if you had been Joffery and you had cut his head off. But no, not even Joffery would do it, he’d leave the pain of being Eddard Stark’s killer to others and not get his hands dirty.

The senses around you only came too when the sound of another person was somewhere ahead of yourself. Yells followed by a thud, grunts that had a similar crying pain to them that called to you, the cool air revealing tears down your cheeks you didn’t know fell in such volume.

Coming up the hill in the brush of the woods did the sun peeking it’s final moments brighten the scene before you. And there was the now the only thing your heart could see. The slashes of his sword against the tree were harsh and violent, and the pain yelling out each time from Robb cut you as he did it.

Twice you tried calling his name, but the sob in your own throat fought with it. Forcing yourself up an edge to the flat ground he stood at you called to him once more, a waver in your voice. “Robb,”

The man he was, gone. Tears of his own, face twisted and broken as he heaved looking at you. Maybe you should be comforting, but he wouldn’t be fooled if you tried to ignore the tears of your own as you looked a the other. You had such little conviction in your tone, nothing but a weak softness that knew there was nothing you could say. “I-”

Head dropping down, his hands gave up. Letting his ruined sword fall to the dirt and leaves as he stepped towards you. He was no longer the man, the leader you saw, and you were not the woman his men watched stand by his side.

He collapsed into your arms, his wrapping around your waist as you both knelt down. You wrapped yours around his shoulders, and one cradling the back of his head to your neck as you perched in his lap. Trying to hold as much of the larger man as you could in your arms as he held onto you.

Robb spoke and it was nothing but pain, a growl in his tears that was a wolf too in pain to hold himself up. But there was such anger and pain in his voice that it pulled more tears from you, and you pulling him closer to you. “I’ll kill them all. Every single one of them. I’m going to kill them all.”

You ducked your head into his curls and kept him close, his arms tightening around you. Your voice was like a whisper in his hair only for him, and with a softness that was new to both. “My love,” He held you closer. “I’m with you, I promise. You and I, we stay together from now on, and I promise we will kill them all.”

Pulling his head up enough, he found the strength to cup your cheeks as his blue eyes found strength for one thing only to give you. Muttering close to you, you felt his breathe on your face as he spoke and his words only pulled tears more. “I love you, now and always.”

You pressed your forehead to his, feeling like the only two who existed anymore and your heart couldn’t find a way to be closer if you tried, you returning the gesture as you held the others face impossibly close. “And I love you now, and always will.”

You shared a kiss, gentle and both of you poured your heart into it. Pulling back, he fell into your neck and your face into his hair. Neither you nor Robb know how long you knelt there together, but there was only one thing you walked away with and it was the only one either of you needed.

Robb had made you his lady wolf, and in turn you gave him your heart and the young wolf gave you his.

The gods had punished you all, and now, they intended for one final test. Your heart was Robb’s, but your loyalty? Your sword? Your duty to the justice demanded from you?

Your heart was asked to choose between something and you made that choice to Robb. But you had another that you didn’t expect, and one you had no way of knowing was coming that same night.

Fitting in with this lot seemed to be of your nature. Neither you, nor Robb, or Catelyn displayed the sheer pain felt by Ned’s loss but as you looked at her, and her you? She saw the pain you could see in her and once more her doubt of you melted away. Robb sat you next to him with Grey Wind laying by his feet as the men gathered around.

His hand was on your thigh as he had you sit up against him with no shame for his display.

Roose Bolton had returned with the few straggling survivors to the news, and thus the fighting begun. A purpose you all came together to fight was taken from you. Now? There were three kings pulling in every direction. Three kings and no agreement.

From one end Galbert Glover had been fighting with the Blackwoods before he turned to Robb with confidence. “The proper course is clear. Pledge fealty to King Renly and move south to join our forces with him.”

Robb watched you shut your eyes in a frustration he knew was making your head pound. Grey Wind below him reached his head up to run against your leg as Robb yelled, “Renly is not the king.”

Glover for all his skill as a soldier, was not a man who could read the camp well. “You cannot mean to hold to Joffery, my lord. He put your father to death.”

You peeled your eyes to look up at the man with a fierce glare and gritted teeth, “That doesn’t make Renly King.” The camp had been growing to learn to listen to your quiet tones as they many times were laced with a surety that many of them did not have.

Robb shutting down that side of the debate, “He’s Robert’s youngest brother. If Bran can’t be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly can’t be king before Stannis.” Someone in the crowd asking if this meant they were to declare for Stannis.

As he looked to you, and you to him there was a tightness in your face that screamed of a doubt that was difficult to explain and impossible in front of this lot. But Robb could read you easy, a hesitation about loyalty to your own father as something inside of you had been pulling away from what used to be your duty as just his heir.

Fighting continued before Greatjon started to yell. “My Lords,” repeating himself louder as he stood facing the crowd with his great stature. “Here is what I say to these two kings.” Spitting on the ground half of the crowd laughed, and you raised your eyebrows in wonder.

Continuing he seemed more confident then you’d ever seen and more passionate then the other men trying to lead the debate. “Renly Baratheon is nothing to me. Nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine fro some flowery seat in the south? What do they know of the Wall? Or the Wolfswood? Even their Gods are wrong.”

Pointing to you with a bit of a smirk as he said your name, “Well we know all too well she’s had more then enough Northern inside of her to make her one of us.” The crowd definitely laughed at that one, making you bit your tongue to fight back a fierce fluster as Robb gripped your thigh higher and rougher.

“Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to, and now the dragons are dead.” Pulling out his sword, you stared with parted lips as he pointed to Robb who sat with a powerful respect. “There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee too. The King in the North!”

Shivers ran all the way down your spine, Robb didn’t look at you as he stood, but his hand on your waist ensured you stood with him. Another stood next, “I’ll have peace on those terms. They can keep their red castles, and their Iron chair too.” Coming before you both, he pulled his sword out kneeling down with his sword blade in the ground. “The King in the North.”

Theon next, no question in his voice as he looked at Robb. “As your brother, I swear to be yours to command. The King in the North.”

There was pause as some looked to you. You were his wife, rode into battle by his side and was seen by many as Northern as that like Catelyn was now. You also, were the daughter, a would be declared heir to the one man with the best claim to the Iron Throne.

You felt your insides shake, and your heart swell as you looked beside you. Robb finding your eyes with not a second of guess or question as you spoke to him. “Are we together, now and always?”

“Now and always.”

You felt you eyes sting and did nothing to hide the water wanting to glaze over as you looked at Robb, turning to face him as you stepped back to be right in front of his person. Pulling your sword out, you knelt down closer to him then the others, but knelt all the same. “My heart is yours, my sword is yours. In victory and defeat, from this day until our last day.”

The men of the camp erupted. Standing with their swords high in the air all yelled “King in the North” with a pride like a chant as no man there saw him as anything less.

Robb pulled you up as they yelled, arm around your waist as you both looked at the other as if this was only a fate he wanted if you are to be his at his side. Turning to the crowd, you both looked with a hesitation but awe.

Robb Stark did not choose his fate as King in the North, but the North itself decided he was the only one they would follow now and ever. You had chosen a wolf’s heart today, and now you had chosen your loyalty, your duty, the people who were as much yours to protect as your husbands.

You chose your side.

Miles away in either direction, your fate was known by two. One, hair dark and curls more wild as he heard none, but in his head was the vision of two. The sight of you by his brothers side with love in the eyes of both. Why he kept seeing you like this, why you would appear to him in the dark in foggy visions and dreams at all he didn’t know.

His heart did though, and it tightened a little more painfully as it did each time his dreams showed you with Robb. Jon Snow didn’t go to the wall thinking he would move on from you, he went there thinking he would eventually learn to accept the gods chose Robb for you instead. But it was getting harder and harder to accept that with every harsh blow, every new horror he slowly uncovered in the icy north.

Jon Snow did not understand why he was being shown dreams of you that seemed to come true.

On the other side of the continent on an equally dark place, only this was an island of more then just dim looks. This was the place you once called home, and the people who once called you family.

As news reached him, it would take someone with a keen eye to see the sheer amount of anger in his eyes. Stannis Baratheon, the one true King now stood a the painted table looking over the raven scroll for five times to many now. His firstborn daughter, the one he expected would come to him with the allegiance of the North, the one who would be his heir?

But the North had declared Robb Stark their King in the North, and the River Lords had joined them.

Renly took his men, Joffery took his throne, Robb Stark took two Kingdoms for himself and now had taken Stannis’s daughter and heir, as his Queen. Queen in the North those lot had named her, and oh did those words mock him as he read them over.

The woman in red, draped around the angered Stannis. “She will come to us, my King. Her and her wolf both, the flames have shown it to me. The Princess will return to you, and with her love beside her. The heart of the Great Wolf will stand by you too. That I promise you. The Lord of Light has shown it.”

[chacharealsmooth07]

Blah blah, something about how Edwin chose to be "soft" after hell but what if he didn't?

The toughest thing that one can do in a mean world is to keep being kind. And he chose that. He chose to be kind. He disregarded 70 years of being ripped apart to care for a random dying boy, to keep him company. He is tough.

Blah blah, smth like choices and time being main plot points, but what about the clear struggle between good and bad?

Crystal being good now, doing good now, but coming to remember she did all sorts of (objectively) horrible things.

Charles wondering if he became the very thing he was devoting his whole life and afterlife to protecting people from, when he is (non objectively) way better than those he was comparing himself to (his father, his bullies, the two jock boys)

Edwin wondering if he can ever do enough good to be able to save himself from the torture he thinks he must endure forever? All on a technical error? (After having been back to hell, maybe he was meant to be down there. The grudges he holds have a hold on him. And if you punish yourself everywhere is hell, but if what if that's where you belong?)

Monty wondering if he can choose to be good, if he can BE good when all he ever has known is obeying to the whim of a person who is executing bad acts. Can he ever really be good if doing bad is written into him?

The cat king, and his perspective. Good and evil are the same thing if you look at them from far enough away, if you stop focusing on who you hurt and more on what you want. But sometimes he sees it, and he hates it, and he distances himself again.

Esther, being so corrupt by thinking she is the victim that she is good because she was hurt first, thinking her hurt gives her the right to hurt others. Feelings are always valid, the actions tied to them, killing countless girls, killing Niko? Those were not.

Niko, the kindest, sweetest, easily favorite of the show and fandom, she struggles with the guilt of leaving her mourning mother with nothing but her father's body and memories. She can't even mail a letter back. And when she does, she dies. And her body probably reaches her mother before the letter does.

Something about Charles not finishing stories. Something about how he doesn't read the endings, he makes his own. He gets to look back and make sure Edwin is safe, because he never knew that Orpheus couldn't. He does get out of Hell with the love of his (after)life, because he didn't know Orpheus didn't.

He found the love only myths could write off, and left off the endings. He would have love that didn't hurt, even if he had to hurt more to get to it, even if he had to die and run for it. And he would write his own endings.

Something about how Edwin knows the endings, but he goes along anyways. Because he trusts Charles to change the ending. To change the narrative. They both love each other (maybe not expressly in the same way, but it's still love) and maybe that's enough to change the narrative. Maybe the love is enough.

[thefatesofspring]

You know who's stupid? The people who'd go below and beyond to justify every sh*t Rhys pulled, claiming he had "good" reasons and intentions for everything, while also claiming he's morally gray.

Sjm is one of those people. Write him off as the bad guy, make him do something very terrible to write him off as this morally gray character and then justify his bs and assasinate characters to make him look like the good guy. Wtf is he meant to be??? He cannot be the feminist king that cares for everyone and their mother while also have him be an asshole. Kaz and Carden don't need reasons for why they do sh*t. They do certain things for their own gain and they don't give a damn. They're clearly morally gray. Rhys? I don't fucking know.

Hi anon 👋🏾 again my apologies for only responding now😩

Couldn’t have said it any better myself & it further proves my point again that Rhysand isn’t written for the story let alone the plot!!

I’ve not read the shadow & bone series yet but the cruel prince series I have & to me Cardan is a perfect example of morally grey & executed really well! Ps I absolutely love Cardan! But with Rhysand & the things he’s done not just to Feyre but other courts/HL’s & the justifications are INSANE!!! Everything Rhysand has done has served NO PURPOSE or even benefitted anyone including himself and example of Rhysand doing shit that had the opposite effect of benefiting anyone including himself was when he went to the summer court & he, Amren & Feyre stole the book of breathing because he swore blind that Hybern was after it & if memory serves me correct Hybern actually stated that he was never after the book until Rhysand had taken it out of its home court…like wtf!! The actual big bad villain is telling you that your judgement was wrong & way off & somehow we’re still supposed to believe Rhysand did the right thing & is a “good person”?!!… when in reality if he had just listened to Feyre when she said perhaps asking Tarquin for the book & letting him in on what they think so many things could have been avoided including Tamlin thinking that Feyre was being controlled because now she’s out here lying, manipulating & stealing from other high lords and their courts.

Rhysand is only “feminist” to the women in his circle excluding Nesta & the irony is he never actually gives them choice just the illusion of it & yet for some bizarre reason people buy it🤷🏽‍♀️ he’s honestly just become a joke of a character that is so poorly written & executed. He’s not morally grey or even morally black he’s straight up horrible.

Not to mention ACOTAR is a legit watered down, YA, knock off version of Anne Bishop’s The Black jewel trilogy😩

[alicentsgf]

why are people so pressed about how Alicent ends up this season??? Like hotd hasn’t been good since s1 people also criticized everything back then but tbh Alicent from s1 was always headed to where she ends up?? I thought it was common knowledge that her last choice would always going to be duty vs love and s1 stated very well that Rhaenyra is that freedom for Alicent???? I absolutely hated the things they put Alicent through (alicole sex and for what? All of her sons being a dick to her??) her arc this season was badly executed but to blame and think that the writers are catering to rhaenicents? seems a bit stretch when the ship is hated by the majority of the show. We can argue in the journey of how Alicent get to the point she is now but it was clear for the beginning that the head of TG?? She would never be, sometimes I think that thanks to most of the general viewers didn’t understand Alicent as a character the writers thought if we put her in these humiliating scenes the viewers would understand that she is a victim of the patriarchy and the men who surround her, but I guess not even with that the GA and fandom as whole could ever understand her character and honestly im good with it, she’s a walking contradiction and i have read her character like that since the beginning, good riddance tho to the obnoxious people that kept bad talking Olivia for only doing her job (this is not a dig to you but the extended fandom that are attacking Olivia again for her character)

Why are we upset now? Because we dared to hope lmao. And now we're realising theres absolutely no coming back from this (it was already mostly ruined i know).

I think the issue is the choice between duty and love should have been made when she chose her children and grandchildren over viserys wish for rhaenyra to rule. Choosing love didnt have to and shouldnt have meant choosing rhaenyra. Like finally FINALLY she lets herself cast duty aside, because "what is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms", "you never love anything in the world the way you love your first child", "you imbecile (affectionate)", etc etc. That is what works in line with the original story AND the sympathetic sides of alicent we saw with in season 1. Sure motherhood shouldn't define women but this is a story abt a fucking lineage !! What do people expect. Of course its going to be about parents and children.

F&B might have been bare bones, but it at least had a strong political backbone to it thats been completely removed this season. That direction would have offered more oppertunities for alicent to be explored as a multifacted character. The problem is that because they angled this as a story primarily about misogyny rather than a story about the inevitability of the targaryen line imploding, they maybe thought they couldnt do that without making alicent look like an unsympathetic agent of patriarchy. (Most of the audience read her that way anyway so they did a pretty crappy job avoiding it). Rhaenyra represented a certain freedom for alicent in the story, sure, im not against that at all, but for the writers to suggest literally being with Rhaenyra is what alicent needs to do to achieve freedom from duty? To free herself from the shackles or patriarchy?? (🙄) Its so laughable. Alicents little grandson had to have his head sown back on for his funeral and Rhaenyras faction sent the assassin. Her daughter was traumatised. You dont just fucking come back from that. Really we should have known when viserys died how this was gonna go and I think in some ways we did because a big number of us were upset with the misunderstanding then, we just didnt want to believe what this signaled about where they were taking alicent. People are upset now because alicents character has become totally unrectifiable. We just never believed they'd diverge so much from the known plot points of fire and blood.

As for this bit you said:

" I think that thanks to most of the general viewers didn’t understand Alicent as a character the writers thought if we put her in these humiliating scenes the viewers would understand that she is a victim of the patriarchy and the men who surround her, but I guess not even with that the GA and fandom as whole could ever understand her character and honestly im good with it, she’s a walking contradiction and i have read her character like that since the beginning."

I have thought this myself and unfortunately I think you're right. In an effort to make alicent sympathetic they have created the most convoluted character i've ever laid my eyes on. Towards the end of season 1 we were already saying her being so forgiving after driftmark made no sense, but i was compelled enough by her because of olivias performance of that scene with the knife to be willing to wait to see where they took her this season. And its been an exercise in more of the same stupid shit. The issues in season 1 have just been amplified by the realisation that season 2 is just the same thing again and again and again for alicent. Shes just a punching bag and im sure thats in an attempt to get the audience to feel bad for her, because i cant see any other reason for it, but its just so badly written that shes no longer compelling or interesting or likeable really at all. Theres nothing to root for when you dont know who someone is. I have so little to say about her this season and that hurts honestly. Olivias performances deserved much better writing.

[physalian]

A Guide to Productive Filler

I was going to write this post about the wonders of fanfic and how it does not do the “forced miscommunication for cheap drama” trope, and it did not stay that post for long.

I’m sure it’s out there, but it’s not saturated in the most popular fics and I think I know why: Fanfic exists in contrast to the established canon, and the canon has forced miscommunication, thus fanfic looks at the perpetual failure of those plotlines and ignores it.

Nobody likes this trope, yet it keeps happening. In TV, at least in the old days when we had full seasons with appropriate and satisfying filler episodes and actual good stories and such (you know, before Disney +) TV shows were contracted to fill a minimum number of episodes and didn’t always have enough content to fill it, especially CW shows.

Enter filler episodes, which, when productive, still entertained the audience with off-beat side quests or gave more screen time to beloved side characters or explored more of the world and the lore. Filler plots meant that you could casually check in on your favorite show once a week, or miss an episode, and not feel completely lost because the plot wasn’t super tight and lean. Some of my favorite episodes of all my favorite TV shows are filler plots and just because they’re “filler,” as in, not a plot-heavy element to advance the narrative, doesn’t mean they were lacking in story.

That was good writing.

Bad filler elements were sh*t like forced miscommunication for cheap drama and it still exists even in the “mini series” that are really just long movies extended to keep people from canceling their subscriptions. TV shows may have one or two head writers, but they’re still written by committee and producers and production companies trying to milk as much from a profitable product as possible, which means they couldn’t write an efficient, epic romance that ended too quickly. They had to faff about for a few seasons before delivering to keep butts on couches tuning in to generate sweet, sweet ad revenue.

Forced miscommunication in TV shows have always made sense in that light. Yeah it’s a product of bad writing, but I can’t point at the head writer or even the staff writer alone and criticize their writing ability because it likely wasn’t their decision.

Forced miscommunication in books, however—that I have no excuse for. Books aren’t written by committee. In this case, I really can just blame the author for their bad choices, which, in turn, maybe came from their favorite TV shows and how they executed similar plot lines.

Fanfic does not do this, usually. It’s not written by committee and has no quota to fulfill to beef up the narrative with extra chapters.

—

So. You want your story to be longer, fanfic or otherwise, but you’re struggling because your plot is too thin and you don’t know where to go from here.

First, a disclaimer: Novellas exist and can be as short as they need to be.

“If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter,” means that  just because it’s long doesn’t mean every word serves a purpose. With enough time, the writer can trim down their thoughts for conciseness and clarity, and say the same thing with better impact with less beating around the bush.

So just because it’s short doesn’t make it bad, just because it’s long doesn’t make it good. It’s about what you do with the words you’ve written.

However, if it really is a thin story lacking substance and oomph, here’s some suggestions that are not sh*t like “forced miscommunication”. These are not meant for generalized application and should be considered heavily before implementing, because any one of them can change your book for the worse by adding in unnecessary detail that distracts from the main story.

1. Consider multiple narrators

Now. I just read a rather bad book that could have lost about ⅔ of its story for a variety of reasons and told the same story in a fraction of the page count. One of those issues was giving the villain several POVs that ruined the suspense and the tension because the reader became privy to their grand plan long before the protagonist and instead of having all our questions dying to be answered with the protagonist, we were waiting around for them to stop fooling around and figure it out already.

With that said, if you have a character of second importance to the protagonist whose perspective would benefit and enrich the story, consider giving them POVs to explore either when the protagonist couldn’t be present, or in contrast to the main narrator’s thoughts on the story and conflict.

I’ve never written anything without multiple POVs and still get carried away sometimes just trying to fill in all the missing time that didn’t add enough to the story to make it worth it. I have deleted POVs from ENNS that were better left up to audience interpretation then all laid out on the table.

This technique very much necessitates restraint, but giving your foil character, your deuteragonist, even your villain some narration “screen time” might help you beef up your word count and tell more than just one biased side of the same story. Fanfic tends to be very efficient with this because, again, one writer working for free tends to want to be efficient and not give pages upon pages of useless prose.

2. Side-quests and character studies

My all time favorite filler episode of any TV show is LOST’s “The Constant”. It focuses entirely on the side character Desmond. He’s an unwilling time-traveler and throughout season 4, struggles to control his temporal displacement and risks dying if he can’t find a “constant” to anchor him to the correct timeline.

This episode is often praised as one of, if not the show’s finest hour. Desmond spends most of the runtime flipping erratically between the past and the present as his romantic relationship spirals for other plot reasons. He ends up making his “constant” his fraught relationship and is able to revert to the past with knowledge of the future to get his then-ex girlfriend’s new phone number so he can call her at an exact date in the future to prove he won’t have given up on them. When Des finally makes that call 8 years later, it’s so emotional, so full of catharsis, so exciting to see him finally reach her after struggling since we met him.

And it has absolutely nothing to do with the plot at large, only Desmond’s arc. It explores some of the world’s lore but doesn’t answer any of the main plot questions or progress any other major character, and Des is the only time traveler so all the risk surrounding time travel is only for him. Critically, it still adheres to the themes of the show and fulfills much of the promises of this character’s role in it.

The show’s worst episode, “Stranger in a Strange Land,” is also filler about protagonist Jack’s tattoos. He makes a relationship with a woman nobody cares about and spends the entirety of the episode’s flashbacks, which is most of the episode’s runtime, dicking around in Thailand. With this quasi-wise woman’s tattoo techniques. Nobody cares what they mean, they didn’t connect with the themes of the show, didn’t tell us anything substantial about Jack or the world, lore, or story, and just felt like a massive waste of time.

If you’re going to write side quests, be more like “The Constant” and less like “Stranger in a Strange Land”. 

3. “Slice of Life” moments

A repeat of referencing this scene and this movie but I don’t care: “Doc Racing” from Cars is just one example. Adding in scenes like these won’t give you tens of thousands of words, but maybe you only need a couple hundred to feel satisfied.

Slice of life moments slow the pacing down, so place them wisely, and just let your characters be people in their world. Small things, human things. In Cars, it’s an old man letting himself enjoy life again when he thinks nobody’s watching. I have a scene in my sci-fi WIP series where two brothers, plagued by their family’s social status, take a drive and pick up greasy drive-thru food to park on a mountain overlook and just watch the city while licking salt off their fingers. I think Across the Spiderverse is about 20 minutes too long, but that scene of Miles and Gwen upside down on the roof before the plot ramps up is another quiet, human moment.

It could be a character who needs a break from the breakneck speed of the plot and the stress to listen to music, walk away from the project and enjoy the sun, anything. Do try to not get overly pretentious trying to make it super metaphorical and poetic, let the audience do it for you. These quiet scenes could end up being the audience’s favorite.

—

If you’re trying to make your book longer, don’t be like Bilbo Baggins, okay? Don’t let your characters be spread thin, like butter scraped over too much bread. Add, don’t stretch. If the romance is on track to come together sooner, let it, or figure out a more meaningful way to delay it than throwing in a dumb argument that won’t mean anything in 20 pages anyway.

This wasn’t an exhaustive list, just what I think could be the most effective with the widest applications across genres.

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 成化十四年/The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty

(The) Sleuth of (the) Ming Dynasty (it's hard to get an agreement on how many definite articles should go where) is a beautiful, high-budget 2020 drama about a weenie genius detective, his long-suffering and deeply traumatized sugar daddy, and the eunuch with the most difficult job in the Great Ming: keeping these two dumbasses from getting their fool selves imperially executed.

Depending on how you like it, it's either an OT3 or an OTP with an intense, underage third wheel, and either way, it's delightful. I wouldn't call it a comedy, but it has very many funny elements that keep the drama fun and engaging. The first half is full of shorter mysteries that are clever and thoughtfully plotted, and the second half goes in on the longer mystery that ties them all together.

I've already done my quick guide to the early-episode characters, if you want a taste of just how many people are running around and how wonderful they all are. But in case you want to know a little bit more before you commit yourself to a 48-episode series, here's five reasons I think you should watch it!

1. The whole thing smacks of gender

Yeah, this was originally going to be selling point #2, but I know what the people want.

This is not a show about gender. But boy it is a show that has a lot to say about gender, and not just by way of critiquing premodern Chinese gender roles (though it does do that!). Many of the cis characters are either a) somewhat gender nonconforming, b) canny enough to weaponize binary gender expectations, or c) both. Sui Zhou's entire third-act storyline is about how expectations of masculinity exacerbate PTSD in veterans. Three different AFAB characters either dress or live as men. The part where one of the male characters goes undercover in drag is played for laughs, but the joke isn't 'ha ha, a boy in a dress,' it's 'ha ha, this particular boy in a particular dress, and also he's terrible at it.'

And that's even before we get to the eunuchs.

There are several professionally dickless, permanently unmanned characters running around. One-third of the OT3 canonically had his external genitalia nonconsensually removed when he was five years old, and because of this, he has been given unimaginable authority. He's basically the second most powerful man in the entire empire, and he only gets that way by being unquestionably, ostentatiously, and genuinely submissive to the first most powerful man.

I have seen other Chinese media where eunuchs are treated like sinister clowns, good only to be the bad guys and the butts of jokes. Sleuth's main eunuchs are real and complex characters, and because of this, the show gets to explore what it is to live in this weird third-gender category of incredible power and powerlessness.

Now, don't go into this expecting woke gender treatises. Wang Zhi's never going to sit down and go, "You know, my friend and fellow eunuch Ding Rong, because of my lack of a penis, I understand my relationship to masculinity differently than other men do." But the show understands that even if he doesn't say it, it's true. And that makes a lot of the characters and their relationships just so much more interesting.

2. Uncle Jackie Money

Sleuth was the was the fourth c-drama I dove into, following the Untamed, Word of Honor, and Guardian -- or, Some Money BL, Less Money BL, and No Money BL. So imagine my absolute wall-eyed shock to find this was All The Money BL, courtesy of its executive producer, Jackie Chan (seen here with some of his handsome boys):

Sleuth looks good. The costumes are amazing. The sets are stunning. The cinematography is beautiful. Everything is so detailed, and while I can't speak to the absolute historical accuracy of all those details (see point 3), they're still gorgeous. In fact, you know what? I'm going to shut up and show you some of the promotional images.

(For actual screenshots, I'm just going to point you at @rongzhi's tsomd photoset tag, as they have done a tremendous service to the fan community -- though do beware of spoilers.)

Uncle Jackie's influence doesn't end with the money, though. Even though things get a bit goofy and wirework-y near the end, most of the drama's fights are shows of real martial arts skill. You can see his fingerprints on a lot of the choreography -- I'm thinking particularly of the time Tang Fan tries (and fails!) to stab Sui Zhou three times, which is pure Jackie Chan high-speed dexterity.

Add this one to the category of shows your Average American Television Enjoyer Who Can Handle Subtitles would like. In fact, I have shown the first episode to my normie father-in-law, who was impressed. Show it to your dad! See if he picks up on the gay!

3. I am from ... HISTORY!

The Chinese title translates to "The 14th Year of Chenghua," which works out to the year 1478. There are some clear anachronisms, but they tend to be played for comedy, so it's hard to hold that against them. On the whole, though, the show is trying real hard to evoke a very specific moment, and I feel it does so beautifully.

This does, however, mean that several of the characters are real people. I don't even have a good sense of how many of them are based on historical figures, that's how many. Hilariously, Wang Zhi's tag on AO3 used to read "Wang Zhi (?-1487 CE)."

Moreover, these are characters I've seen pop up in other media, played very differently! In particular, Noble Consort (up there in blue) tends to be written as an uncomplicated villain elsewhere, whereas Sleuth gives her a chance to add some goodness to her badness, until, damn, you can't but root for the bitch. (It also downplays the cradle-robbing, which, honestly, is for the best.)

You may have guessed from the eunuch section earlier, but it bears repeating: Wang Zhi is straight-up the best character in the show. He's smart as hell, and he has to be, because the second he's stupid, he's dead. I actually consider it helpful to know ahead of time that he's never going to do a heel turn -- I feel like on my first watchthrough, I was holding my breath for the first two-thirds of the show, waiting for his sudden but inevitable betrayal. It does not come. Wang Zhi is one of the heroes.

He's also, like, evil. He orders people flogged, tortured, and executed. The very first thing you see him doing is sinister as hell. And the show clearly doesn't think this is good, but it also doesn't judge him for it. He's a traumatized seventeen-year-old who has not had a normal moment of his entire life. He's working thanklessly for a boss who could kill him on a whim -- and he's doing it because he literally, physically was made for his job. He's mildly freaking out because he has no emotional grounding to help him understand that these weirdos want to be his friends.

Was the real Wang Zhi like this? That's beside the point. The point is, you get to see how someone in that position could wind up as the war-crimes-committing platonic ideal of a little meow meow.

4. oh my god the food

Warning: This show will make you hungry.

Again, beware of spoilers, but @peppersandcreamsicle and @qinzai have put together an entire cook-along Google Doc so you don't just have to drool -- you can do something about it! Or you can just read it and learn about Chinese cuisine, which is a little more my speed.

But it's not just about how good the food looks. Food is a vital emotional part of the series. People bond over it. They make and share it as a sign of love and care. It indicates status, ethnicity, interest, personality. The show's message about the healing power of cooking for the people you love will bring you to tears.

And yes, Sui Zhou is the main one doing the cooking, so get ready to drool over both the dishes and the handsome man preparing them.

Oh, and as though that weren't enough, Fu Meng Po can actually cook in real life. He's so dreamy. Absolute unreal handsome man with a devastatingly sexy voice. (I know my opinion might be different if I could hear his Taiwanese accent, but I can't so it's not!)

5. An Unsunk Ship

So like I said, my intros to c-drama couples had been WangXian, WenZhou, and WeiLan. That meant I'd basically come to terms with the idea that you can't have a main couple in a BL-but-not-really drama without splitting them up at least a little in the end, for no-homo plausible deniability reasons.

Tang Fan and Sui Zhou are still definitvely, unequivocally together when the story ends, as the iconic pentultimate scene of the series confirms with beauty and simplicity. I refuse to give any more details than that, but that ship's afloat.

(These shirtless pictures aren't from the end, but I wanted to include them, and I didn't have a better place to do it. ...Also, you know, ships and water? Yeah?)

And I think their winding up together reflects Sleuth's entire attitude. Tang Fan is made of sunshine, and the series loves him for it. There is tragedy aplenty in this show, but there's no misery. It is ultimately a hopeful show that believes in the power of second chances, if you're willing to take them. Time and again, the moral of the story is that you are only ever as good as the people who have your back -- but you have to be willing to let them have your back. Let people help you. Let people cook for you. Let people give you a reason to keep living. And then keep living.

Also, Sui Zhou gets two good kabedons off on that little twink, which means they're legally married now. I don't make the rules.

Bonus: Banger opening theme

This is one you will watch all 48 times.

Bonus #2: The Halo Video

This is the video that made me go, huh, these Sleuth boys seem like other boys I've enjoyed! Perhaps I shall enjoy them as well! And then I did. So if that might be convincing to you too, well, have at it. Even if it isn't, it's a fascinating three-minute study of shared those-boys-are-in-love visual language across these shows.

Fair warning that it contains shots from right up to the end, so if you'd rather go in completely blank, give this one a pass until later. (Excuse me while I now go watch it for the 10000th time.)

Have I convinced you to watch it yet?

It originally ran on iQiyi, though Viki's got it as well, and Viki's is free if you're willing to put up with some ads about it.

...I just noticed iQiyi's description of the series reads, "When the two handsome leading actors Darren Wang and Fu Meng-Po work together, what will happen? A lovely prefectural judge and an arrogant embroiered [sic] uniform guard join hands to crack unusual cases! Are you going to choose a new idol?" And you know what? Yes. The details are a little off, but that is the correct spirit. Thank you, thirsty blurb.

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Eight

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. More angst, PTSD/nightmares, misogyny, threat of physical punishment ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're still at Windhaven, and you can't help that rage that builds by the day.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

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Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven

After a week, your nights were full of nightmares that entailed your wings getting clipped, being beaten to a pulp by your father, and (oddly enough) a young Azriel and Cassian getting ripped to shreds by an older Illyrian. Why it had been Cassian AND Azriel, you had no idea. But it didn’t sit well with you as you got up everyday and trained with the other females while Cassian went to different war camps. He never mentioned which one. 

You argued with him when he said he would need to go to another camp instead of train you. And since both Rhys and Azriel were busy with their own missions, that meant you wouldn’t train. But Cassian gave you the option to train with the females at Windhaven or to wait for him to come back at the end of the week. You would have said no, had it not been for what you’d seen that first day. How their commander wasn’t even training them, just letting them run around in circles, doing what looked to be endurance training. And maybe a little heavy weight training, if they were lucky. So you decided training with them was better than not training at all. And it would help you as emissary, especially if you could get the girls to start sparring and not just exercising. 

When the male commander didn’t even help the girls with their warm up stances, you had your shadows nudge them enough so they corrected it. And then, they actually moved on from their constant loop of motions to sparring. Just like you had hoped. There were five girls today, and then you. You paired with one named Ragna. Her skin was darker than anyone else you’d seen, and she had pointed ears which told you that she was only half Illyrian. Though she had wings. And she was the one that showed the most promise. You were surprised they even let her train if she wasn’t full Illyrian, but then again, neither was Rhys. Though you had a feeling Devlon didn’t have much of a choice with him as a High Lord’s son.

You helped her with her placement, chiding remarks that you remembered Cassian saying to you back at the House. You learned quickly, and it was easy enough to see what she was doing wrong. Two days were just spent in the mirror, Cassian showing you all the ways you made yourself vulnerable. You wondered if these females would ever be shown that. They hadn’t moved past the warm up exercises until earlier in the week when you joined. And Cassian mentioned they should have been training for the past month and a half. They should be far past your training level… or farther than they were. But they didn’t have a trainer that was willing to help them. 

So, here you stood, sparring with Ragna. You saw the male, Calder, approach as you let her sweep your feet from under you. You asked her to do it, and wanted to show her the proper technique. “And now you just allowed your opponent a break from standing.” He mocked Ragna. 

You glared up at him and stood up, shaking your wings so the dirt would fall off. “She gave herself an advantage.” You snapped. “And executed it perfectly, too.” You said, giving her a small smile before you examined the green Siphon Calder had on his hand. The one and only. Granted, there could be another one if it was exposed in his armor like Cass and Azriel. But it didn’t, Cass already told you the males that had two Siphons. And Calder wasn’t one of them. 

“I don’t see how you could know with your back on the floor. Though that’s probably where you spend most of your time. Especially with that bastard that calls himself our Lord Commander.” He scoffed. You cleaned your fists and walked closer to him, your shadows shooting out from you to swirl around his arms in a frenzy. They wouldn’t restrain you from this male as they had done for Cassian.

“You might be careful how you speak about our Lord Commander.” You growled, restraining yourself from hitting him square in the face. 

“Fond of the bastard?” He chided. You felt your nails dug into your skin. If he said one more thing…. “I bet you enjoy being in that cabin all alone with him. That’s why he’s allowing you to train. So he can have you with your legs spread-“

He didn’t finish the rest of the sentence. You knocked his jaw with your fist. Just how Cassian taught you to. He stumbled back from it. And then you had your shadows restrain him as he staggered forward, ready to repay the favor. “Speak one more word about it and you’ll find these shadows strangling your neck. And maybe snapping some bones too.” You ground out. Not that you even knew how to do that with your shadows. But Cassian’s told you about how Azriel’s done it before. If he ever bothered to train you, one day you would. For the time being, Calder didn’t know you couldn’t do it. But you’d bet your salary that he knew Azriel could. And that was enough for his eyes to widen. 

You backed up, taking a deep breath before you let go of your shadows, watching them return to the comfort of your shoulders. 

“Shadowsinger!” You heard a voice call. Not any voice, Devlon’s voice. “Out of the ring, now!” 

You whipped your head, noting that he probably watched the entire encounter. You huffed and glared at Calder as you walked towards Delvon. “What?” You said, trying to bury that rage that burned in your chest. 

“You know the punishment for laying a hand on your commander without him provoking you?” He asked, his arms crossed on his chest. The look you gave him was answer enough. “For a female, it’s two extra hours of chores.” 

“I don’t have chores here. And he isn’t my commander.” You said simply, not taking your eyes off him. 

“For males, it’s ten lashings.. which one would you prefer?” He ignored your statement, leaning against the fence of the ring. 

“Who says he didn’t provoke me? Because he was insulting-“ 

“Insults are not provocations. Words are not provocations. Unless he hit you or it was a training exercise, it was without provocation.” He stated. “Lashings or chores?” He asked. 

“Neither.” You replied with gritted teeth. He was starting to get on your nerves. 

“You know, I wonder what your father would think when he finds out where his little girl ran away to. And a Shadowsinger, too… he’d be pleased to know where she was after all these years.” Devlon said, a small smirk sliding onto his face. 

You bristled, not holding back the swallow that forced its way down your throat. The thought of your father knowing you were here terrified you. “He wouldn’t care,” you lied. Your father would be furious… Furious that you were still alive. That you made something of yourself without him. 

Before Devlon could call you out for the lie, or for the fear that replaced the rage, Cassian landed beside you. 

“What’s going on?” He asked. 

“I hit Calder and Lord Devlon wants me to do chores because of it.” You answered. 

“Or take the lashings. It’s whatever she chooses. Your High Lord is so enthralled to offer them a choice, so I’m letting her choose.” He said. Your High Lord. You didn’t miss the blow.

Cassian looked at you, and you looked up at him, a bucket of shame washing over you as you saw the disappointment in his eyes. He didn’t say anything as he grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the ring. “I’ll handle it.” He said simply and you stumbled after him. You yanked your arm from his hold when you were enough ways away from Devlon, almost to the cabin. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, flaring out your wings for balance as he whirled on you. 

“What am I doing? What are you doing? I told you to be nice. And you punched him? The one trainer that actually agreed to train the females and you punched him?” He asked, clearly holding in his anger. “Not to mention the stunt you pulled two days ago.” He said. 

You almost snickered at the memory. You had your shadows help the females finish their morning chores and you took them out for training yourself. Devlon was furious when he saw you training with the practice weapons. And Cassian wasn’t too happy that you were trying to train them, considering you didn’t know how to use weapons or techniques properly. Let alone teach them. 

But you held the snicker at the rage that bristled around him. “He was insulting you. He was calling you a bastard and insinuating that you were training me because I was sleeping with you-“ 

“I don’t care what he was saying.” He looked around, pulling you towards the cabin at a pace you had to run to keep up with. Once you made it inside, he asked, “Where is all this coming from? You haven’t even shown a drop to anger the past two months. And now it’s practically all I see from you here. What’s wrong?” 

You faltered, catching your breath. You went to answer that nothing was wrong, but you stopped short when you sensed another male in the corner of the room. Not only smelled him but felt that familiar tug. The one that slightly decreased during your training here. He was hiding in his own Shadows. “Azriel,” you said, your eyes on him immediately. 

Cassian whipped around. “Mother above… Az what are you doing here?” He asked. 

“I heard how your introduction with Devlon went, and the incident the other day, and I figured you might be able to use my help.” He said. 

“You never come here willingly. Did Rhys send you?” Cassian asked. 

“No, I did come here of my own will. Only to help (Y/N).” He said. “My spies are doing their jobs. And I think I should indeed stop brooding in the shadows and help you train. And I won’t leave this time.” He said, only looking at you. Whatever resolve to ignore you seemed to have disappeared. And it didn’t help that bubbling anger inside of you. 

“Fine, but you’re taking her to the mountains.” Cassian said. 

You whipped your head to Cassian. “What?” You asked. 

“You’ve got unbridled rage here for some reason. The better place to train will be away from it. And if Azriel trains you, you’ll need the space while learning about your shadows.” Cassian explained. 

“This isn’t because I punched Calder, is it?” You asked. 

Azriel stepped out of the shadows, and you saw his head shake as a small side smirk came to his lips. “You punched your commander?” He asked, something that mirrored pride washing over his face. It was gone in a blink.

“He isn’t my commander. And he was being a prick.” You snapped. 

“Cassian used to beat his trainer to a pulp sometimes.” He teased. You hadn’t seen this side of him before. 

“And I got the lashings because of it. Don’t encourage her. She isn’t helping us at all.” He said. 

“No? Did she not just show Calder that she wasn’t going to take his bullshit? Any other male would have done the same thing. Even you.” He said to Cass.

“How do you know it was a fair shot?” You asked. 

“My shadows got here long before I did.” Azriel said. “I hate this place, these camps. But that doesn’t mean I can’t watch from a distance.” He said. 

“Go pack, you’ll leave when you’re done.” Cassian said, obviously having enough, and nodded towards your room. 

“I-“ 

“Go.” He said. “You’ll be gone for 4 days.” 

You held back the urge to roll your eyes and walked up the stairs to pack a bag for the journey. And you vaguely heard them talking about the route and where you would go. You didn’t bother to ask your shadows to listen. You would learn what you needed to soon enough.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the double release! Something special is in store for the next chapter!

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[anshares]

Once upon a time, there was a prince most beloved by all.

He was highly doted on by everyone but especially so by two men: his older brother, His Majesty the Emperor, and by his secret suitor, a childhood friend by the name of He Xuan.

By all accounts, Prince Qingxuan should have a blessed life. Unfortunately it was nothing but a wretched beginning,with a wretched end.

His brother, wary of him vying forthe crown, kept him on a tight leash, while the other man in his life perished on the battlefield. To live your life in a guilded birdcage, that is the tale of this prince.

Click more for full plot!

ROYALTY AU (M/M Flavor Beefleaf)

Shi Qingxuan is a royal prince, brother of Shi Wudu the emperor who is known to be a tyrant

He Xuan comes from a military family but he refuses to practice the sword and prefers to read instead.

They first met in the palace as kids when HX was accompanying his father to a meeting and he explored the palace grounds while he waited for his father.

He is reading by the garden and meets SQX there who is playing hooky from royal lessons and from that moment on they become friends. (SQX the talker and HX the listener). Emperor Shi Wudu, seeing that his brother favors this kid, assigns him as his playmate.

Then one day SQX got kidnapped by rebels, HX tried to rescue SQX and found him after a day. They managed to escape from the kidnappers but were found by one of the rebels,

they tried to run as fast they could and managed to lose the guy chasing them but SQX sprained his ankle so HX had to piggyback SQX

luckily they were found by the royal guards and the rebels who dared kidnapped the Tyrant Emperor’s only brother were executed and put on display in the plaza.

Emperor Shi Wudu awards the He family for what their youngest son did and officially appointed HX as SQX future retainer and personal guard, SWD acknowledges how smart He Xuan is and was impressed by his bravery,

he saw potential in him and to HX dismay he has to learn the way of the sword which SQX teased him over because he kept whining about it during their breaks or sparring sessions.

As they grow up they become inseparable and people talk about how incompatible they are, like how the young prince who is beloved by everyone is with this gloomy person but it works. They are closer as ever CLOSER than anyone thinks.

They sometimes have a rendezvous in the library where they “study” or at the garden where SQX likes picking his favorite berries. SQX feeds HX one and he sucks the leftover juice in SQX finger which leaves him flustered.

The truth is they have been in a relationship for years now but they just hide to protect SQX reputation, as their genders and status won't let them be accepted by society and it will cause quite a scandal.

Hx and sqx also have talks on having life outside the palace and he sees that sqx is not really fond of palace life, and sqx admits that there are times where he just wants to run away from it all but he can't

Contrary to popular belief, emperor swd is known as a tyrant and his brother is no exception to the treatment. As his brother constantly watches sqx every move and punishes him even for the slightest mistake,

making sqx doubt himself and belittling him to the point where sqx life is controlled by swd.

This makes sqx be easily influenced that he himself even forgets he has choices on the matter.

All he knows is that his brother controls his fate, his marriage and as a prince he has a duty to his country, he can't entertain selfish thoughts which is why these few moments of reprieve where he could spend his time with his lover dreaming about life outside the palace is all he could do,

there's nothing bad with just dreaming inside his gilded cage with his lover by his side, he feels like he can soar free.

Even with HX gloomy countenance he is quite popular among the ladies that there were also rumors how HX is gonna be engaged to a woman he is usually seen with and visits his house

but in truth he just treats the girl as a younger sister and is actually from the family where his own sister is getting engaged to.

During a marriage interview where SQX meets with his possible marriage candidates he meets the rumored girl as she was part of the selection. She asked about HX to SQX and disclosed her true feelings about HX.

SQX assumes that something is going on between them and with how the rumors are, SQX gets worried about this so he asks about it to He Xuan, HX assures him that nothing is going on between him and the lady.

SQX is a little bit jealous so HX smirks and “do you want me to show you how much I love his highness” and they proceed to have a passionate night where they assure each other that they are the only ones they will love and be loyal too.

They actually talk about running away from the capital and just settle down in a rural village without their statuses getting in the way they'll just be Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan, just 2 normal people but skirmish/war with the rebel army happens so they have to draft up every son in each family.

It is also perfect opportunity for Shi wudu to get rid of a pest that might ruin his brother’s reputation because he learned of his brother's growing affection for HX since a palace maid witnessed one of their “study” sessions

so he dispatches him to the front lines at the border where he is the appointed strategist. SQX is not aware that SWD knows about their secret tryst.

Before HX leaves, SQX makes him promise to come back alive because he has something to tell him, HX asks why wouldn't he just tell him now SQX says it isn't the right time and at least he will have motivation to come back as soon as he can to the capital.

He was actually going to tell him “I love you” since they hadn’t said it to each other yet, SQX also requests that he write often, HX does but it gets intercepted by SWD and alters the contents so it'll look like HX is gradually changing his mind about their relationship.

Unfortunately HX dies in war with a lot of arrows in his back (like the visual in bloody festival) he tries to get back to camp but with his heavy injuries he won't survive,

he knows this but still tries because he promised SQX he will come back, he hasn't heard what SQX wants to say yet and it seems important.

SQX won't hear news of his death, Shi wudu will keep it under wraps and make up a story on why HX is getting transferred. He tried to ask around and find out why HX hasn't come back yet even though the war is over.

All SWD said was for their service to the country the He family was granted a piece of land to a far away place. HX decided to settle there and get married which was impossible since HX promised SQX,

did he change his mind after being away from each other for years, is this why his letter gradually stopped and the contents were not as sweet as they were during the first year.

SQX can't go out and check it out himself with no good reason, so he look at records and stuff everything checks out, he is hurt but he is glad that at least HX is alive and well somewhere even tho far away from him,

SQX doesn't want to get in the way of HX happiness even if they grew far apart from each other so he decides to let him go but SQX doesnt know that the reward also doubles as compensation for the grieving family and that the family decided to leave the capital because of painful memories.

At the end SQX monologues if it was a sin of falling in love with HX since they are both men and how he wishes in the next life he can love him freely without their status getting in the way and being condemned by society.

Epilogue:

SQX finally gets to go out for inspection and it's in the city where He Xuan's whole family relocated he was all cheerful like even tho HX is probably married now at least he can still visit as his friend as long as he is happy and healthy even if it wasn't with him that's all that matters

so when he asks the parents where he xuan is…. it got sus cuz why the home is so gloomy then he sees the family shrine…..with He Xuan's tablet in it.

SQX is shocked and can't believe what he is seeing because how could that be?? Were all the things his brother said to him are lies all these years….

Sqx didn't even know he had already lost hx years ago, did he die swift and painless, did they find the body in the battle field and give him a proper burial. He wasn't even able to give his lover respects and he couldn't even see him one last time because of her brother's intervention.

What about those letters then? Were they really from he xuan??

and then realizes it's indirectly his fault. He connects the dots and realizes that it's swd's fault but the blame doesn't just falls on his brother but also him for he wasn't strong enough to defy his brother,

didn't fight harder to ensure his lover's safety, he shouldn't have been ignorant, he should've have been more observant, he should've been more…..Then hx mom interrupted his spiraling thoughts as she noticed how pale and shocked the prince looked.

Hx mother knows how close she is with her son so finding out hx this way is shocking.

" Your highness, I wanted to let you know that he died honorably in battle protecting the city and its people.

They were able to find his body and give him a proper burial.

I can't thank the emperor enough for bringing my son home. Also I wanted to give you this, it was one of A-xuan's belongings, a journal. I think it may be best if his highness hold on to it."

After he paid his respects and did his exception he left the city with a heavy heart he didn't expect this outcome. As he journeys back to the capital, he opens HX journal. Its full of entries of hx listing everything that reminded him of sqx,

like how he saw the wildflowers that he used to collect for him to make into a crown as kids, how a nervous soldier reminded him of sqx's inability to lie, how he noticed sqx's influence in choosing the meals sent to the soldiers, etc.

Growing up as royalty he was thought to have a good handle on his emotions but he couldn't after reading the journal and so he broke down,

he sobbed and called out to he xuan even though he knows no one will answer anymore when he calls out the name. He just lets out all his grief, anguish and love lost.

When he calmed down he made a promise that he will devote himself to serving the people better so that they're not left at his brother's mercy and tucks the journal safely back to his sleeves as he sees the capital over the horizon.

-THE END-

[diamondwerewolf]

Quick Chat about Lysandre

Or really, a long winded chat about my coming to understand him.

I've decided to buy and play XY in anticipation of Legends ZA arriving sometime next year. My initial reaction to the Team Flare Boss, was 'what is this idiot talking about. i'm going to strangle him.' I still am going to strangle him, but at least now I do get where he's coming from.

Also, keep in mind I played pokemon X, not Y, so I live in the universe where Lysandre's goal isn't to cull the population.

Before I get into Lysandre as a character, I have to discuss Pokemon XY in the general way it pinches out information, and dialogue for the player to grasp the plot. I'm very late to the party, since I have played this years after it came out, but I'm positive I'm not alone in saying the game is awkward.

Pokemon XY, feels like it had a plot too involved for the format it was delivered in. It's, in my humble opinion, a clunky transitional game. From the traditional format of main generation games, and into the more robust pokemon games of the future. I'm also aware that the development was rushed, which adds to the disconnect I felt between mechanics, characters, and plot. That being said, I still enjoyed it! [ And I'm happy we're going to get a chance to revisit it on a grander scale]. Talking again about the awkwardness of the game, I think I didn't understand Lysandre's issue, because there wasn't enough dialogue or supporting context for me to really grasp what he was talking about. I made sure to talk to everyone I could, every manner of key character and NPC. But I couldn't sense the desperation he was feeling in the slightest.

You play the game as a child [which annoys me now as an adult but I digress lol] , so everyone you interact with talks to you like one. I've always considered the world of Pokemon somewhat utopian...but that's what it is, somewhat utopian. I think it feels that way, simply because you roleplay as a kid in an era of peace. The world is beautiful, the towns are jolly, there are a few ruffians here and there, some people are at a disadvantage [ like Emma] , but what is there to worry about? Everything right now is just fine. Why are you trying to ruin it?

I decided to look into some of the supplemental items for Pokemon XY, and was met with this in the Pokemon Evolutions shorts.

This scene...was all it took for things to finally click.

A room full of stuffy executives, huh? They're his own board, but I'm sure he's sat down at many tables over the years with equally stuffy suited people.

Running in the background of this make believe world, are things that resemble more of reality. I was immediately reminded, that often times, the fate of millions of people rest in the hands of a few. Lysandre is a well known philanthropist with a genuine love for the world he lives in. People and pokemon. I'm going to make the assumption, when Lysandre talks about those who 'take' being filth, he's not just talking about a couple of subway ruffians snatching pokeballs out of a tourist's purse. I assume, he's talking about other powerful people. Probably companies and government.

As his bloodline would dictate, Lysandre is a modern day king, who has the high vantage point of being able to see destruction on the horizon. Chances are, he's met the kind of wealthy, powerful people who 'take' on a grand scale. Something else to note, is that Lysandre's company has created something capable of eavesdropping on millions of people. He probably has even more access to information that the public, and certainly not a child, would have. I'm in a way, happy that I'm playing the game now as an adult, so that I can process all these implications.

AZ, made his choice in the middle of war. The conflict was all immediate, and plain to see. Something was taken from him that was too great to bear.

I wonder...what did Lysandre see specifically, that told him the world was on a path to similar destruction. What does he know that urged him to 'kill the demon before it could be born', so to speak. Or, nip it in the bud? That's a more on theme phrase, ain't it...

I have this same question.

Here's a screen clip from the Wiki page for "Floette Returns". It summarizes what happens in the Pokemon Adventures manga. While this isn't considered canon to the game, I found this interesting, and it supports my assessment of Lysandre well. I think the manga is allowed to go into topics that the games aren't always able to explicitly discuss.

"As the group watches AZ depart, Trevor guesses that Lysandre must have lost himself in despair after years of philanthropy in a bid to help the disadvantaged, and his bitterness led him to founding Team Flare in the first place."

So okay, Lysandre. I understand where you're coming from. But, I don't think destroying everything is the answer.

Seriously, who was he talking to that made him raise those hackles so high? My last thought, is that I find him incredibly interesting, now that I understand. I do think he's entitled, though, and a brat. In the same way I think N can be a bit entitled to fixing the worlds 'problems'. But that's probably a symptom of how they're both raised.

That's all I have for now. I'll discuss AZ in the future. I have a lot to say about him, too.