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illyrianbitch · 2 months ago

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Of Our Own Devices — Part Seven

For @erisweekofficial Day 7: Free Day

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Eris wakes up as the newly crowned High Lord with a multitude of responsibilities ahead. Yet, there is one essential matter he must resolve before he can truly claim his throne.

Warnings: brief mentions of injury and death, fluff.

Word Count: 3.3k

Part Six

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The room of the Forest House was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire, its glow casting soft shadows against the stone walls.

You sat near the window, gazing out into the night, feeling a strange of calm settle over you for the first time in days. The unease that had been clinging to your chest, that pressing weight, had loosened just a little.

Lady Autumn had offered you this room. It was close to Eris, a mere three minute walk to the room that he now laid in, shallow-breathed and unconscious, unable to be woken. You'd initially turned her offer down, said it was unnecessary. But she'd given you a look, something soft and knowing, and you accepted without another protest. You were grateful. You didn't want to be far from Eris— whether you were willing to admit it out loud or not.

You hadn't left his side at first, had found yourself cemented to him, unmovable, hands grasping his. He was warm still, unbelievably so, but his face was slack.

You only separated when the sense of intrusion became too strong—a quiet unease, like you were imposing on something that wasn’t yours to witness.

You weren’t his family, weren’t one of his advisors. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you could call yourselves friends. Days ago, months ago, you would’ve said no without hesitation. Eris had been nothing to you but a persistent thorn in your side, the kind you try to pluck free, only for it to burrow deeper the more you tugged.

Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe it was you who kept returning, drawn to him without fully understanding why.

To keep your mind off his unmoving body, you did the only thing that felt right: you returned to the ballroom, to the place where everything had changed. It was already cleaned then, rid of the spilled Vanserra blood, empty of Beron's soulless body. You weren't sure where he had been taken, didn't quite care enough to think about it for a moment longer.

You’d found yourself taking Eris’s hound, gently removing the restraints from his soft body and transporting him to a beautiful clearing near Eris’s cabin.

You knew Eris would want to pay respect to his beloved pet. Until he could do it for himself, you would do it in his honor. You buried the hound, marked his grave, and sat next to it for what seemed like hours. He was an animal, yes, and you weren’t sure if they could understand emotions when they were living, but just in case, you wanted him to feel loved. To feel mourned.

Then you’d returned to the Forest House, took up residence in that empty room, and waited.

The moonlight painted the landscape in silver, softening the sharp edges of the world outside. The autumn trees glowed faintly, their fire-hues reflecting off leaves in a way that felt surreal, felt dream-like. Your court was beautiful. You needed to appreciate it more.

You pressed your hand against the cool glass of the window and let your thoughts drift.

How many nights had Eris stood in his room, a few doors down, looking out at the same scene? You imagined him, alone in the quiet, his amber eyes fixed on the trees, thinking of a world beyond them. Had he been lonely? The thought struck you with a pang. For all his fire, for all his strength and sharp wit, Eris always felt hidden, like his true spirit had been locked away where no one could reach him.

No one but you seemed to feel it. You often wondered why.

The fear you’d felt during these last few days had been unlike anything you’d ever known. It all stemmed from your concern for Eris, for the cruel eldest Vanserra that you'd always flocked to. You couldn’t shake the image of him, standing tall and unyielding, facing the storm of his father and everything he was bound to inherit.

You'd watched him take blow after blow, fought the instinct to step in, to place yourself between Eris and Beron’s fists, to shield him. It had terrified you—more than you thought possible—how close you’d come to losing him. Even after things had calmed, after they'd taken Eris's body to his quarters, brought a healer to him, you still felt the echoes of that fear, lingering like an aftertaste of dread.

But tonight, as the moonlight spilled over the fire-touched trees and bathed the world outside in silver, that fear felt distant. Like something that belonged to the past, now slowly dissipating into the night.

You sighed softly, leaning against the frame, when suddenly you felt it—a presence behind you. A ripple of heat, a familiar energy brushing against the edge of your awareness.

Your breath caught as you turned.

Even in the darkness, with only the faint flicker of firelight, he was unmistakable. For someone so vibrant, so impossible to blend in, Eris always moved like a ghost. Stealthy, quiet, as though the fire in his blood had learned how to hide in the shadows.

You stared at him for a moment. He was different now. Something had shifted, not just in his stance but in the very air around him. He was glowing—radiating a sense of power and regality that made your breath catch.

You'd seen it as Beron fell: a glow emanating from Eris, a surge of power that seemed to ripple through the room. You had watched him take a deep breath before the darkness of unconsciousness gripped him with its strong hands, dragging him into a deep, weary sleep. Hovered over him as Lady Autumn attended to his wounds, placed your hand gently on his forehead, combed through his disheveled hair. Over and over, you had whispered his name.

He was High Lord.

Eris’s hair, normally styled to perfection, now fell across his forehead in a messy, untouched way that only made him more soft, more vulnerable. His face was unguarded, the lines of his usual mask softened, like he was finally free of a heavy weight.

He was High Lord.

The title fit him, settled into him like it had always been waiting to claim him. And yet, there was something else there too, something raw, as though he wasn’t entirely sure how to stand in this new skin of his.

You felt hyper-aware all of a sudden—of yourself, your own appearance, of the silence stretching between you. You’d never felt this way before around him, never felt so unsure, so seen and yet invisible in the same breath.

His chest rose with a deep breath as he stepped forward, the firelight catching the edges of his hair, making it glow like molten gold.

“Hello,” Eris said, the word sounding strange, almost tentative, like he didn’t quite know how to begin.

And before you could think, before you could even register what was happening, you were moving. Your feet carried you across the room without a second thought and soon your arms were around him, pulling him close.

He seemed as shocked as you were, frozen for a heartbeat before his arms came up around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. The smell of pine, smoke, and that distinct scent of Eris filled your senses, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The warmth of him flooded into you, familiar and grounding, and your body seemed to sing in response.

You pressed your face against his shoulder, heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know why you had done it, why you had suddenly thrown yourself into his arms, but nothing else seemed right. No other response.

He exhaled, a soft, almost disbelieving sound, and then his grip tightened around you, his hands splaying across your back as though anchoring himself in your touch alone. His cheek rested against your temple, and you felt his breath stir your hair as he whispered, "Am I still dreaming?"

Whatever that meant.

A few moments passed before you suddenly became aware of just how vulnerable the moment was, the tenderness of it all. You hastily stepped back, peeling yourself from him. Eris’s hands lingered where they had been, his touch ghosting across your arms as you pulled away, and you caught the fleeting look of sadness on his face as he let you go. His gaze dropped for just a second before he looked at you again, searching, almost cautious. Something flickered in his eyes, and his lips quirked upward—just slightly.

You didn't pay attention to the motion as you shoved him in the chest, your palm hitting against him with more force than intended. He blinked in surprise, stumbling back a half-step, his brows shooting up in shock.

“Never do that again!” you blurted out, heart racing as the flood of everything hit you at once. You took a deep breath, feeling your chest tighten as you rambled, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Who does that, huh? Brings someone to a ball, asks all these cryptic questions, and then just goes and almost dies right in front of them?”

Eris’s eyebrow arched, and you could see the corners of his mouth twitching higher, and higher.

“A High Lord apparently,” he mused.

Something changed in his expression the second the words left his lips, as if he was truly realizing for the first time what he now was, who he had become. His amber eyes glowed. It was the first time you’d heard it—the title in reference to the male before you, to the one you'd known for most of your life.

Eris glanced down, his hands falling to his sides, and then he shrugged, almost nonchalant. “Also,” he added with a small smirk, “I knew I wasn’t going to die.”

You fixed him with a look that said exactly what you were feeling. “Not funny,” you scolded, your tone flat and unimpressed.

His smile broadened. It was the kind of smile that felt carefree, open, without the usual edge of mischief that defined so much of his demeanor. There was still a touch of arrogance, of course—it wouldn’t be Eris without it—but it was tempered now, softer, more sincere.

“I didn’t mean for you to see it all,” Eris said, his dropping into a a tone of regret. “I thought you’d heed my warning, leave before the feast.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “And when have I ever listened to you?”

His laugh was soft, a genuine chuckle that filled the space between you with warmth. He nodded, conceding the point with a slight shake of his head. The sound of his laughter lingered as silence dawned on you once more.

The quiet carried a weight that seemed to settle into your chest. It was heavy, all consuming—but not in a bad way. You felt something flutter there, a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite name. Looking at Eris, you hesitated, searching for something to break the stillness.

“So, you're High Lord now."

Eris nodded, his expression softening slightly. “That I am.”

The simple acknowledgment left you at a loss. It was strange, seeing him like this—glowing with power, radiating authority, yet still the same Eris who had always danced on the edge of your life.

“I’m not bowing," you said.

Eris’s laughter came again. “I wouldn’t expect you to."

You crossed your arms. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” His voice softened, still laced with that familiar mirth as he took a step toward you, the light around him shifting. He took in the room around him, inspecting it as if it wasn't a familiar area of his own home.

“I have many things to attend to. I've never awoken to so many people at my feet.” He let out a breath, his gaze traveling back to yours. “But the one person I wanted to see wasn't there.”

You swallowed, staying quiet. Your fingers instinctively came up to rub against your chest, as if trying to ease the tightness you had begun to feel.

“My mother told me you’ve been staying here,” Eris said.

You nodded. He watched you carefully.

“Thank you,” he said. The sincerity in his voice should've caught you off guard, the softness of it standing in stark contrast to the rough, ragged persona that Eris presented. But it didn't. It rolled through you like a wave of comfort.

“You're welcome,” you whispered, the words coming out more like a breath. You weren’t sure what else to say.

Eris’s gaze dropped for a moment, his fingers curling at his sides before he spoke again, his voice a little rougher, more uncertain. “I don’t know how to do this.”

You furrowed your brow. “Do what? Be High Lord?”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No,” he said, exhaling deeply. “I’ve prepared for this title my entire life. I’m excited, I’m ready.” He paused. “I was referring to something else.”

Your heart skipped a beat as the silence settled between you again, heavier this time. He softened before you, shoulders dropping, lips twitching upwards, a soft blush painting his freckled cheeks, the tip of his nose.

“I don’t know how to ask for forgiveness."

The Eris who always seemed so sure of himself, always one step ahead, was suddenly exposed—stripped of all the stiffness and confidence, standing before you, waiting for something. Your thoughts wandered as you examined the male before you.

You knew Eris—knew him so deeply that it bothered you. You used to hate that you cared for him, that despite everything, your gaze would linger on him when he'd walk past you and Lucien, his cheeks bruised, open cuts on his knuckles. You hated that you'd defended him in private, that you'd craved those fleeting moments where you might run into him, even when you knew you shouldn’t. You’d found him impressive, even admirable, at times—despite the part of you that wished you hadn’t.

You tried to imagine a world without Eris Vanserra, a life where he had remained in the background, a distant figure, the elusive, cruel older brother who tormented Lucien. The one who was easy to hate. You’d forced yourself to see him that way, for Lucien’s sake—offering your friend understanding and a place to rant, a shoulder to lean on when he needed it. Lucien was entitled to those feelings, after all. Eris had done terrible things, things you couldn’t deny or excuse.

But even then, you had never fully seen him as the monster others did. Even when you wanted to. No matter how hard you tried, Eris had always been more than that to you. He was always there. At least, in the memories that seemed to matter—both good and bad. Somehow, he'd woven himself into the fabric of your life, in ways you hadn’t even realized until now.

A life without Eris Vanserra, for all his flaws, simply wasn’t yours.

You blinked, your eyes finding his again.

“I suppose it depends on who you’re asking.”

Something shone in his eyes. He took a slow step forward. “There’s this female," he began, his voice soft, "She has always been there—frustratingly persistent, stubborn... beautiful.”

Your breath caught as he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours with a gentleness that seemed almost out of place for a High Lord. But then again, this was Eris—someone who had always defied expectations. His touch unglued you from yourself as he took your hand, cradling it in his palm. His thumb brushed delicately over your skin before he lifted it to his lips.

He pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles, and his gaze held yours, the burn in his eyes making it hard for you to breathe. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart raced. You could hardly find the words as he stepped even closer, the air between you thinning until it felt like nothing at all.

“I believe she sees me for more than I’ve offered the world,” he continued. “And I’ve been unworthy of it.”

Your lips parted as you still struggled to find a response. His hand tightened around yours, but not possessively—reverently. “But it is a time of change. A new start for myself, for this court,” he whispered, his gaze flicking down to where your hands met before returning to your eyes. “And I want to be worthy.”

Your heart swelled, and you realized that, for all the history between you, this was indeed a time of change. Autumn Equinox and all. Something that you both had waited for—maybe without even realizing it.

"Worthy of you, Vixen."

Something shifted between you—an unfamiliar warmth spreading in your chest, slow and steady, like light creeping into a room long left in shadow. You couldn’t name it, didn’t know what it was, but the sensation began to crack open a space inside you, filling the quiet between your words.

“You don’t need to ask for my forgiveness, Eris.”

He blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as his brow furrowed slightly. You drew him in closer with your palm still in his, your voice softer now.

“I can’t offer you forgiveness on behalf of anyone else. Not for your citizens, not for Lucien.” His jaw tensed at the mention of his brother’s name, but you didn’t stop. “But you don’t need to seek it in me.”

He seemed to hesitate, holding his breath as though whatever you were about to say could either break him or put something back together that had been shattered long ago.

“You’ve always had it,” you said quietly, letting the truth settle between you like a long-overdue confession. He exhaled slowly, the tension that had been wound tight within him loosening, unravelling like a cut thread. His thumb brushed over your hand again. You felt a subtle tremor in his fingers.

“I’ve always seen you,” you finally managed to say. “I’ve always seen you, Eris.”

That unfamiliar warmth swelled beneath your ribs, expanding, filling every space between you and Eris. It started slow, subtle, but then, all at once, it flared—bright and undeniable. A soft hum in your chest. A chant that your body repeated over and over.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Your breath caught, a sharp inhale as the truth washed over you, tangible and real. Eris seemed to feel it too, his eyes widening for a heartbeat before he let out a deep, shaky exhale, his lips pulling into a bright, knowing smile. It was sinfully soft.

“I knew it,” he said.

Eris pulled you closer as you gave him a incredulous look. “You did not.”

His grin grew wider, a flash of pure, smug confidence crossing his face. “Yes, Y/n. I did.”

Before you could argue, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in as his lips found yours. The kiss was slow at first—soft, tender—but quickly deepened, like something that had been waiting to break free for far too long. You could feel the bond, bright and strong, snapping fully into place as you melted into him, the two of you laughing softly against each other's lips as the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you.

A vixen and her High Lord.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note: yayay fluff!!! a new beginning for autumn and its high lord!!! these sweeties n their mini story was so fun. all i can imagine now is eris learning the ropes of being a leader with his lil love at his side while she fights for her friendship w lucien (ouchie). but reader n eris found each other finally!! mates!!!

as always, thank you for reading <3 and a lovely, heartfelt farewell to eris week!

eris week/of our own devices tag list 🫶🏻: @i-know-i-can @scarsandallaz @anainkandpaper @ratgirl2020 @nyenye @rcarbo1 @katana180-blog @awkardnerd @hoemadegrace @myromanempiree

permanent tag list 🫶🏻:

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters

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sukirichi · 5 months ago

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 012 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. minimal angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. explicit smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. physical violence. sex tapes. reader has a gun and almost uses it.

notes. i wanted the kiyoomi and suna girlies (/gn) to win so here it is! feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 12.9k

series masterlist

[ TWELVE ] for you, i would cross the line. i would waste my time, i would lose my mind. they say “she’s gone too far this time.”

You prided yourself in being logical.

There was little to no room for measly emotions when it came to royal affairs. Granted, you had no proper training, but you were raised as a noble, and the rules were clear. Set aside your emotions, always look towards the most plausible solution, and cry about it later – where no one could see. Those were your mother’s words. You held onto them for as long as you remembered, with the exception of making only one grand mistake: proceeding with the marriage after catching your fiancé cheating on you.

But now? Now, you were about to make your next worst decision – letting Kiyoomi walk away.

It wasn’t love, of course. It couldn’t be. The odds simply weren’t in your favor, but couldn’t a Princess hope? You met him first, had him as your last dance on your debut ball. He was the first Prince who ever held your hand, the first Prince to dance with you, and the first – possibly last – who reminded what love could feel like. What love should feel like. It was explosive and angry like fire licking up at your skin, begging, pleading at you to chase after him. Every nerve in your body protested as you watched him take one more step away from you. It’s a mistake, one I’ll regret – Don’t let him go. It screamed at you, its cries desperate to be heard. You didn’t want to be here in the Palace. You didn’t want to return to your shared quarters with Rintaro.

You wanted to go back to Itachiyama – his farmhouse, the castle ruins, riding aimlessly with Astra and Lucy, picking fruits from his garden, and spending hours in his library. You hadn’t even held your end of the promise yet to learn everything about him.

What did Kiyoomi love? What did he look like in his slumber? Does he talk in sleep? Does he steal the blankets? What about his favorite song?

You moved before you could think.

Closing the distance in hurried strides, you grasped the Prince’s elbow. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes unreadable through the dimly-lit hallways. “Your Highness. Wait,” you panted, “Listen… back at Itachiyama–”

“Do you want me?”

Your grip on him faltered. Briefly, you took a step back, but the Prince was having none of it. He easily closed whatever distance you attempted to put between you two, his face hard and eyes burning with passion. With yearning. You never thought a man could look so determined yet hopeless as he did, the picture-perfect image of ardor. His brows pinched together, his lower lip trembling as he sighed. “Do you want me?”

You shook your head.

If only it could be as simple as that.

“It’s wrong, my Prince. We couldn’t… We wouldn’t work out. I only meant to say that I do adore you, and I do not want whatever complicated feelings we have to ruin our friendship,” Lies. Every word uttered from your lips were nothing but measly lies. Kiyoomi could tell too – the hesitation written all over your face said otherwise. “I hope you understand. You and I – we’re impossible.”

You couldn’t tell which one you needed more: for him to deny your worries, or for him to agree that you were right. You figured both would be just as painful.

Kiyoomi’s nostrils flared as you looked away from him, feet shuffling in the other direction already. “Stop. Do not take another step. Don’t you dare,” with a low growl, you were suddenly pulled back against his warm chest. You gasped at the hardness of his body, the warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch. His lips were everywhere but the one place you needed it to be – lingering at the curve of your neck, his breaths fanning over your exposed collarbones. It was like he had set you on fire with one touch alone, his firm grip around your waist both eerily intimidating and lustrous. And he must’ve laughed – you weren’t sure anymore. All you knew was that you were completely under Kiyoomi’s mercy, and quite frankly, he could have his way with you as he pleased.

“If you do not choose me…” murmuring, your breath hitched as his lips briefly grazed your skin, making your pulse jump. “You will regret it. You will be unhappy with him.”

I’m already unhappy with him, you wanted to say, but the words died in your mouth.

You’d lost all forms of coherence under Kiyoomi’s spell. Especially in this compromising position, this scandalous way his hand now slowly trailed its way from your abdomen and up to the swells on your chest – Gods, what would any witnesses say? This wasn’t how a Prince held a woman that wasn’t his.

“Your Highness,” you tried to fighting from his grasp, only to fall momentarily back against him when finally, finally, his lips were now leaving marks on your neck. It took all of your willpower to not give in right there, to not sink your fingers in his delicious curls. You had to say no. “I-I think we’ve both had a long night. We should retire to our quarters.”

“I will allow it if it’s my quarters you’ll be sharing.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck – your gaze darted around the empty hallway, paranoid.

The lights had been dimmed hours ago, the staff retiring to their rooms, but it was so quiet your breathy moans could echo. Anyone could walk in and see you like this, pleading but not quite begging for the Prince to not stop holding you.

And it was wrong, so deliciously wrong.

“Please,” you closed your eyes, unable to stop yourself from craning your neck to give him access. Above you, Kiyoomi chuckled, the rumbling of his chest deliciously low.

“You should stop lying to yourself, Princess. You do not want him. Whatever attachment you still have for my brother, it is nothing but a pitiful excuse of familiarity. You keep him around because there is no other choice, but you cannot keep lying to yourself. You cannot keep lying to me that you do not feel as I do when I see the way you look at me,” grasping your chin with his much larger hand, Kiyoomi forced you to look into his eyes. Pools of inky depths stared back at you with part frustration, part lust – his skin already flushed with sweat. You couldn’t look away even if the world ended. There was only you and Kiyoomi, with his hand resting on top of your breasts and gently caressing, so light you might’ve thought he wasn’t there.

And you, breathless and reckless, clung to him like he was your last lifeline.

Kiyoomi dipped down. His nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingled before he breathed you in greedily. “I was never a man who had many desires, but you are the greatest of them all. You run through my mind even in my sleep, and you are the first thing I search for when I wake. So do not tell me you do not want me when I know it’s my name you cry out in your sleep.”

Your knees felt impossibly weak.

“What do you want me to do? I’m married. You’re married. Are you forgetting divorce is impossible?” you snapped back, shoving him until his back hit the wall. The painting above him clattered, yet the Prince seemed uncaring, his arms crossed against his chest as you breathed hard. This was preposterous – this could not go any longer. “This would never work. The people would never understand.”

“I do not care what they think.”

“I care what they think! My husband is already cheating on me, and his own people detest him for it. What more if they find out I have taken you as my lover?”

“Then tell me to go,” he whispered, tilting his head back as he stared at you almost defiantly, mockingly. Like he knew you wouldn’t have the courage to actually say it. “Tell me, and I will walk away.”

When Kiyoomi is met with silence, he scoffed. A smirk graced his handsome face before he’s grabbing you by the arm and twisting you, the positions reversed until your back hit the wall. There’s a slight ache pounding at the back of your head, but nothing – absolutely nothing – could tear your attention away from his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is nothing short of avidity. Kiyoomi devoured you like a man starved, molding the shape of his lips into yours while his large hand encompassed the entirety of your face. Thumbs running over your cheek, his imposing frame completely dominated you. Your bodies were now pressed into each other that it became difficult to tell where you began and the Prince ended.

All you knew was Kiyoomi kissed you like he spent most of his nights dreaming about it, sighing and groaning all at once before his tongue fought for dominance.

Pushing his tongue inside your willing lips, he tasted all of you. He spoke the words he struggled to say, the firm grasp on your hip keeping you in place beneath him a clear sign he didn’t want you anywhere but here. But you weren’t leaving. You’d be a fool to walk away now that you finally had a taste of him, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You wanted more, needed more.

Kissing him back harder, your palms flattened on his chest before you balled his shirt into your fists, uncaring if he’d walk back home flustered and wild. You simply needed him there; you wanted to breathe him in, to have nothing but him as your entire world.

“Stay,” you pleaded in between kisses, letting the Prince maneuver you until your bum landed flat on a table. Uncaring, the Prince swept aside all knick-knacks placed above it when his lips found yours again. And oh, a greedy man he was. Even after kissing you until you were breathless, he still hadn’t had his fill. His tongue danced with yours in this gentle melody only you two could sing, your bodies moving in sync like a choreographed dance. Your hand would wound up to tangle itself in his dark locks, his hands would scramble to undo his breeches, and willingly – wantonly – you would welcome him with all your being. It’s a dance between lovers, a forbidden tune you sang wholeheartedly, accompanied by your high-pitched moans once the Prince had himself buried in you – “Oh. Oh.”

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You, my Prince, it’s you,”

Biting down on your lip to muffle the noises you made, you heard the crescendo of the music. Rising and rising with overwhelming intensity at each note hit, each perfect thrust and drive into you. He hadn’t felt like anyone else. He was thicker and spread you open, impaled on his stiffness while you sat there helplessly to take it all. You felt empowered and weak at the same time, with your legs locking behind his chest as tears rolled down your face from the pleasure of it all, but Kiyoomi showed no signs of stopping.

Heavens, he might not even stop tonight, not when you sucked him in tight and made his breath stutter, his thrusts staggered.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried out, unable to keep quiet any longer. He simply held you carefully, a great contrast to his hips pistoning in and out of you – no, he held you like you were a porcelain doll he feared would break, someone he had to protect and cherish. And his eyes – droopy yet adoring – gazed upon you like you were worth more than any crown. “Oh, you are so…”

His forehead landed on top of yours, his lips minutely brushing against yours for a quick kiss. It’s rushed, frantic, yet intimate in ways you’d never experienced before. For once, sharing bodies with someone didn’t feel like just like sex.

For once, you finally made love with someone.

“Choose me, Princess,” he gritted his teeth, “It was always meant to be me.”

You awoke with a gasp.

Sitting up, your heart pounded in your chest, your skin clammy and drenched with sweat. A scan of your surroundings told you that you were in your room, the empty side of your bed a sign Rintaro kept to his word and left you alone. Closing your eyes, your head dropped down to your palms.

So it had been a dream, after all.

You really allowed Kiyoomi to walk away from you. And one mistake leading into another, you let Rintaro do the same.

Regret churned at your stomach. You could see it perfectly now – the drooping of the Prince’s shoulders, his gaze cast downwards when you bid him farewell. There were still traces of the happiness you felt in Itachiyama lingering on him just as he finally left, ones you were compelled to reach out to before it was too late. But it couldn’t be – you refused to give into your desires when it meant committing a sin. Rintaro didn’t deserve your loyalty, but he was still your husband, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’d been exactly like him.

In fact, you might be becoming like him with each passing day, and although you would never say it out loud, you understood him better now.

To find someone who could’ve been yours, someone who would’ve made you so happy against all odds, and to not have them at all – it felt like a cruel joke was being played by the Universe.

Is this what Rintaro felt like? Did he feel as if the world was being unusually cruel to him? Did he wonder what he could’ve done to deserve all this? Because those thoughts ran into your head long enough that you gave up on sleep, and rolled out of bed with a heavy heart and – shamefully – aching with need. Snatching your robe from the closet, you tiptoed out of the room. Rintaro was fast asleep in the sofa, his arm shielding his eyes from the lit candles. When he didn’t budge from his spot at you poking around him, you let out a sigh of relief and left the room. Clicking the door shut, you spun around, coming face to face with a wide eyed maid.

“Heavens!” you placed a hand on your chest, and then chuckled as the maid stepped back and bowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone would still be around.”

The maid frantically shook her head. She scratched the back of her head as her gaze darted around, seemingly determined to not look you in the eye. “No, Your Highness, it was my fault for startling you. I was reassigned to you just now, you see, and… Uhm, I’m Airi. Prince Shinsuke sent me here.”

Airi… You’d heard that name before.

“Oh! Airi. Yes, of course, I remember you,” you nodded, tying the robe around your waist tighter. “Why are you up this late?” At your question, Airi’s cheeks flushed a deep red before turning away. You smiled to yourself, chuckling under your breath as you gently squeezed her arm. “I understand. You needn’t say anymore.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to accompany me for a walk?” you gestured to the empty hall. Airi nodded, a little too enthusiastic in picking up her skirts. You figured neither of you wanted to stay here any longer where anyone could easily see you.

Turning to the other direction, you headed for the gardens at the outer wing. It was the closest to your shared room with Rintaro, and coincidentally, an infamous shortcut to Belleview’s surrounding gardens. There had been rumors that Belleview was added in the palace grounds as an afterthought years ago – how a sudden need arose to have a separate place for a married couple. It was bizarre, in your opinion, how this long, seemingly endless path would certainly end up right at Kiyoomi’s doorstep if you were patient enough to brave the half hour walk.

Could you?

Would you?

Absentmindedly, you gnawed at your nails. Your Mother would chastise you for the unladylike gesture if she were here, but it was only you and Airi. She wasn’t going to judge, although you didn’t miss the way she glanced at you so often. Curiosity, maybe, but a question imposed her eyes. Deciding to break the silence, you smiled at the dark-haired maid.

“You’re very pretty. I can see why the Prince fell for you.”

Airi stuttered in her steps. “Oh! Thank you, you’re too kind for that, but I doubt it’s because of the way I look. The Prince and I have known each other since we were kids, that’s all. My mother was a maid too before she died. She was the one who helped raise His Highness,” she babbled, grimacing when she realized your patient smile held little to conceal your amusement. “Uhm… If I may be so bold, my Princess, I think you look rather great for someone who has been cheated on.”

Your brows rose. That you hadn’t expected.

“I do?”

“Yes. You look unbothered by it, or at least, you seem to be doing a great job at it,” she offered a polite smile, “Being a royal must come naturally to you as a noblewoman.”

Unable to help it, you chuckled. Oh, how wrong she was.

“Not at all. I haven’t always been this way,” you told her, watching as your surroundings changed from the marble pillars and into the night sky, where the fresh, cold breeze bit at your skin. You were thankful for it – the cold atmosphere was a great contrast to the blooming, colorful flowers.

It somehow reminded you of Kiyoomi’s gardens, and how you probably wouldn’t see it anymore.

The smile on your face disappeared. The ring on your finger grew heavier, and unbeknownst to you, you started spinning it with your thumb. It was curious, truly, how a week was all it took before you completely lost yourself. You couldn’t remember who you were even like before Itachiyama, before Kiyoomi. Or could it be that the past you had never been fulfilled to begin with? What if you were merely a work in progress, and the you in this moment was the real one?

If that was true, then that could only mean two things you would never want to admit out loud.

One: that you weren’t as in love with your husband as you thought if you couldn’t get Kiyoomi out of your mind, or Two: that the traditional saying and belief was right – your last dance would be your fated lover.

And it would make sense, too. Of course, you were happy with Rintaro. Were. You fell in love with him simply because there was no other appropriate reaction. He was the Crown Prince, a man who called on you every single day and learned about your passions until night came. He charmed your parents, loved them as his own, and proudly presented you to his regal family. It was the kind of love little girls were taught to dream about. The kind of love everyone wanted. You couldn’t blame yourself for craving the Prince’s touch, for giving him all your firsts. It seemed only the right thing to do. He courted you, committed to you, loved you as much as he could – it was logical and methodical.

It was one plus one equals two.

But Kiyoomi? It didn’t feel natural, or a step by step process.

It felt all kinds of wrong because you shouldn’t, and all kinds of right because it’s him. It’s the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, or how his head is always turned in the other direction to act like he isn’t listening. He isn’t like Rintaro who never takes his gaze off of you – not because he can’t get enough of your beauty, but because he was watching. Rintaro was always watching, analyzing everything you did, crafting his actions and words perfectly to elicit the response he wanted from you.

His brother was the exact opposite.

Kiyoomi always stayed at the walls and blended in with the background. He never attracted any attention to himself, but would devote his entire focus on you simply because he’s entranced. Or you hoped he might. Surely it couldn’t be one-sided.

You felt it too – the frustration ebbing off of him each time you slipped away. You saw with your own eyes the way his face fell when news of your husband’s affair spread.

He didn’t hate his brother for sleeping with his mistress behind your back. He hated Rintaro for ruining a night that should’ve been yours. A night where his touch could linger on yours for a moment longer as you smiled for the cameras. A night where it’d be appropriate for him to look at you like you’re the star of the show – it’s camaraderie, you’d play off – and a night where he might’ve drove you back at the farmhouse and slowly, tenderly, begin with tugging your gloves off before he moved on to your dress.

Gods. You exhaled. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Kiyoomi, his plump lips that looked inviting, his dark eyes hungrily roaming over you and hoping, praying, that it’d been him instead. These were all wrong – so why were you walking towards Belleview?

“Your Highness?”

Airi’s voice snapped you out of your trance. Blinking, you smiled back at her in apology and continued. “Sorry, I must have been lost in my thoughts. As I was saying, though, I spent most of my life hiding behind my parents’ shadows because I struggled talking to people. And then the Crown Prince came and swept me off my feet, which changed everything. When he came into my life, I figured I had to become someone worthy enough to stay by his side, someone he could be proud to be with. It took a lot of years and effort before I could be confident enough to say I was good enough for him,” you mumbled, stopping in your tracks to look up into the dark horizon before you.

Huh. Why hadn’t you realized that before?

You’d been trying so hard to impress Rintaro all along. Isn’t that why you were so frustrated? You’d spent years molding yourself to become who he wanted, only to be slapped in the face that it was impossible because you could never be her.

You let out a dry laugh. “But apparently not. He already had someone else.”

“I’m really sorry you were dragged into this. From the stories Prince Shinsuke tells me, you’re a kind woman who deserved better.”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t mad upon reading the tabloids about his affair? If anything, I was just furious he couldn’t stay out of trouble and ruined my trip to Itachiyama.”

“Did you like it there?”

“I loved it. I wanted to stay.”

Admitting it out loud felt… liberating. You were beginning to feel more like yourself, even if it meant being less of a Princess and more of this unorthodox woman who simply wanted to be. It must be the side effect of spending time with Kiyoomi. You would soon care less about the rules imposed on you, and unapologetically be yourself.

“But the world sure has a cruel way of bringing you back to reality.”

“Your Highness?”

Both yours and Airi’s head snapped at the sound. Amongst the rustling of the bushes, a tall figure suddenly appeared – all mighty and regal even in his creased blouse and loosely tied breeches. His hair, dark and tousled like he’d run his fingers through it, did little to hide the surprise on his face.

“My Prince,” you breathed out, “What are you doing out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And you?”

You fought back a smile at his raspy voice. You could almost picture it – Kiyoomi tossing and turning all night in a bed separate from Iris. The sanguine voice in your head fibbed, too, wondering if the Prince thought about you as well. “It’s a restless night,” was all you let on, and gestured to the shock-still maid beside you. “Airi, do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Vehemently, she shook her head. “Not at all, Princess. Please, call for me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

You waited as Airi disappeared from sight before you stepped closer to the Prince, compelled by an invisible force to be closer to him. “Kiyoomi–”

“Are you well?”

“Me? Why do you ask?”

He tipped his head to the side, causing a lone curl to fall in front of his eye. You fought back the urge to brush it away, beguiled by his long fingers sweeping it away “You’re in a very difficult position right now, whatnot with the article spreading,” he gestured back to the castle, “Has he spoken to you?”

You shook your head. “He’s kept to himself the past few days. I think this is a lot harder on him than it looks. As for me, well… I’ve had better days.”

True to your word, Rintaro almost secluded himself from the world. He shut off his phone, chucked it at another corner of the room, and never touched it again. It was painful seeing your husband that way when you know of his hobby of endless scrolling. But now, he couldn’t stomach the social media wishing him ill, seeing so blatantly with his own eyes his people’s deference to him. It hurt – more so for him than you – but still, a small part of you wished he’d say something. You were there, were you not?

You cut off your trip short because your husband needed you, and he barely uttered a word since you arrived. It got at your nerves. Nevertheless, you’d give him the time he needed. You planned to keep to your word that you would fix this all for him, regardless of what that might take.

You weren’t so cruel to let your husband be dragged into the pits of hell. Because quite frankly, that wasn’t the media’s right to begin with. If anyone would unleash hell upon Rintaro and Iris, it had to be you.

Kiyoomi scanned your face. “You don’t seem upset about all of this.”

You shrugged. “Their secret would’ve gone out one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I have far, bigger things to worry about, like you,” you leveled your gaze with his, watching as the Prince sucked in a breath.

Your last conversation with him the past night still played in your mind. It ate away at you to have to say goodbye when you didn’t want to, but he was here now. You woldn’t waste the opportunity to make things right.

Steeling yourself, you shut your eyes tight to gather courage. “Kiyoomi… Your Highness. I… I do not wish to stop talking to you. I know I sound absurd because I haven’t known you that long, but everything we shared in Itachiyama, I cherish it. I won’t forget a single memory I shared with you. So please allow me to take back what I said. I didn’t mean it when I said I would stop talking to you.”

“You should, though.” Opening your eyes, your heart dropped into your stomach when the Prince took a step back. “I don’t think we can be friends, Princess.”

Your hands grew cold and clammy.

“W-Why not? Have I done something to offend you? Tell me, and I will correct it–”

“We cannot be friends because I do not wish to be just your friend.”

Whatever distance he created between you disappeared. In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi had closed the gap in one smooth stride, leaning down close enough his nose nearly brushed yours.

You inhaled sharply at the proximity. Kiyoomi’s heat blanketed you, making you realize you’d been shivering from the cold prior to his arrival. Now, he was here, and your senses were filled to the brim with him – his scent, his warmth, his frame looming over yours making you feel protected instead of small. You couldn’t help it; your fingers twitched to pull him by his collar and finally have his lips pressed to yours. It’d been eating away at you for several nights.

A peck couldn’t hurt.

But you made no move, greedily sharing in the same breaths instead. Because if it was all you could have, then it was all you could get.

“You’re right. It does sound absurd. We have barely spoken to one another, yet I’m already tired of this stupid game my brother is playing – his foolish plans to become King, make my wife his concubine, all with the intention of keeping you around like a pet. It makes my blood boil,” Kiyoomi grinned, though it was more sinister than genuine. “He cannot have everything for himself. I will not let him.”

“My Prince. I–”

“–Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with you, nor do I have any intentions of stooping down to Rintaro’s level and stealing what isn’t mine,” cruel, you think, as the Prince effectively cut you off with a brush of his thumb to your lips. You were now putty at his hands; melting and knees weakened with nothing but his touch holding you up. “But I am tired of seeing you this distraught over a man who cannot see your worth. I have had enough. So whatever plans you may have to retaliate, tell me, and I will gladly be a pawn in your game. Make your move. You may command me as you please.”

It took a moment before his words dawned on you. When it did, your palms flattened on his chest, absorbing its warmth and feeling the flutter of his heart underneath your fingertips. He felt so alive, whole, and well – you couldn’t possibly drag him into your mess.

“I could never use you like that. You know this.”

“So you do have a plan in mind,” he noted with a smirk, fingers crawling up to circle your wrist. “My brother really underestimated you, hasn’t he? You’re already proving to be far more dangerous than any sword.”

You flushed warm at his compliment. Pretty, yes, Rintaro has called you that multiple times. Beautiful, gorgeous, even, but dangerous? It made you feel powerful, like the crown was already on your head, and the kingdom was all yours for the taking. But greed often started out as a small flicker of fire, and you stomped on it as quickly as it breathed into life. You were no thrill seeker – you would not dabble or tread in dangerous, unknown, forbidden paths. Such paths like Kiyoomi, but it was there. The temptation. The calling to just reach out to the hand he’s offered.

Its voice beckoned you. Come, it whispered oh-so-sweetly at your ear, he is your puppet.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “It isn’t a good plan at all, and the Queen has summoned us – all of us – to inform us of her decisions on how we will proceed with this scandal. There’s a good chance Her Majesty might get in the way, but I’m determined. I need this plan to work.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I plan on turning the tables around and pinning it on Iris. I know it’s dangerous – she’s your wife, and you might get caught in the crossfire–”

“Do as you please.”

“Are you serious?”

Kiyoomi nodded with resolve. “When I said I do not wish to be just your friend, I meant it. I want you to use me. I want to be your weapon,” nudging his nose with yours, he brought up your hand to his lips, kissing the glimmering diamond on your ring. A kiss of rebellion, a war cry, or a silent plea to be dominated – it said everything and too little all at once. “If there is anything I can do to help you escape this royal hell, I will do it.”

You closed your fist around his lips, and basked in the ghostly flutters it will leave upon your skin hours after he has gone. Then, you questioned it all: how could something so poignant evoke a raging will within you?

“It will be hard for you, Your Highness,” you warned him, “My plan is not a kind one.”

“I do not have very kind thoughts myself,” he chuckled, the sound dark and ominous. “But you should be careful, Princess. Iris is not who you think she is. If you are to proceed with your plan, you need to watch out for yourself, and Maiko especially.”

Maiko? What could Maiko’s involvement with Iris be?

“She won’t hurt Maiko, will she?”

“She wouldn’t dare, but I can’t guarantee she won’t try doing something to you,” with a wary gaze, Kiyoomi immediately masked it with that of indifference. Scanning the surroundings, and hearing nothing but the crickets of insects and the rustling of bushes from the wind, Kiyoomi wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back. Iris is probably somewhere close.”

You were never one to feel much fear, but in that moment, a sense of numbing chill settled in your bones. Goosebumps arose on your skin. It was almost like you could feel it – her sharp gaze, her wicked and deceivingly innocent smile. You shivered despite yourself and huddled closer to the Prince, letting him guide you through the garden’s maze when his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Do you wish to know what would make Iris tick?”

“What?”

“It may be Rintaro who she wants,” his breathy voice caressed you, sending a different set of shivers down your spine. “But it is I whom she would kill to keep. Present yourself as a threat, make her believe you can steal me from her, and you will find her willingly offering Rintaro to you.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t want him?”

“Then you shall always have me.”

Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi…

The Prince’s last words haunted you. Moreover, the way he looked with the moonlight illuminated upon him… he felt surreal. He came to you in your dreams more than once, caressing you in places he shouldn’t be touching, filling you in ways you never thought possible. A part of you wondered if it was merely your brain coping with the fact you’d mistakenly lain in bed with Rintaro. How you’ve felt disgusted with yourself ever since, and found it hard to look in the mirror. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the brain – replacing the man who left marks on you with the man that could’ve made you feel better. And you knew Prince Kiyoomi would – with those large, calloused hands, and luscious lips you spent countless hours gazing upon… would it be such a sin to wish they hadn’t been dreams only?

Picking up the nearby body wash, you scrubbed yourself clean of Rintaro. Your body still ached from last night’s events, but your heart clenched for an entirely different reason. Seriously. You couldn’t believe it. First, he’d let himself get caught in the action, and you let him sleep with you? You could’ve pushed him away. You could’ve said no.

It didn’t have to lead to whatever happened last night.

But then again, laughing to yourself, why did you chastise yourself so much? He was your husband. You were both married – sleeping with him wasn’t a mistake. Yet why did it feel like it? It felt as if… you kept on letting him take and take from you. How long until you’ve had enough? How much more could you give before there was nothing left of you?

You sighed, sinking deeper under the water. It’d been hours since your previous encounter with the older prince, and he hadn’t left your mind since. His offer for you to make use of him like he was a weapon, or worse, a tool, wasn’t an opportunity you could let pass by.

You could make use of him. He had more access to Iris than you ever could, and planting spies in Belleview Manor sounded terrible. She’d probably won over their loyalty judging by the way they kept their mouths shut that first night you arrived there to give her tea for her ‘headache.’ She had secrets, that you were sure of, but did Kiyoomi know them too? What was her connection with Maiko? Surely… Maiko wasn’t involved in whatever schemes they had in mind. The Princess was too sweet and innocent for that, but then again, so was Iris. The so called ‘dear friend’ of your boyfriend before he’d asked for your hand in marriage.

This was proving to be nearly impossible.

It was hard to tell who to trust within the Palace. Kita would be at your side, but you couldn’t possibly involve him in your plan. He might not even approve of it. It would be against the law, and it wasn’t the kindest thing one could think of. Kita would call it ‘the opposite of justice.’

“I hope the meeting went well, Princess?”

Popping your head from the water, you watched as Airi entered the room, folded towels in her arms. She’d prepared a bath for you long before you arrived, the water warm and filled with bubbles – just how you liked it. The room smelled faintly of roses, too, and you made a mental note to thank Airi for her efforts.

“It was great. His Highness and I discussed a lot,” he almost kissed me, too, but she didn’t need to know that, or the fact you wished he did. “Oh, and Airi.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

You pondered over it, you really did it. It was out of your character to abuse the power you had, yet you couldn’t stop the heat flaring in your veins. The pettiness that begged to be revealed. “Could you have someone call L’Essenxe Royale? Tell them I want them to discontinue their Vanilla Candy line because I’m allergic to it, and it would be a shame if I had to stop purchasing their perfumes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Airi nodded, stopping in her tracks after a beat. “I wasn’t informed you were allergic to vanilla. I’m sorry, I’ll do better in catering to your needs more.”

“I’m not allergic. I just don’t want to smell Iris ever again.”

Just before Airi could respond, the doors swung open. Suna sauntered in like he owned the place, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone and loose. His collarbones and the top of his chest shone with sweat, his skin flushed and his dark hair messily swept to the sides. He must’ve gone for his early training – and damned him for looking good.

You snorted inwardly. But Prince Kiyoomi probably looked better.

“There you are. I didn’t get to see you before I left.”

“Airi, please give us a moment,” you requested from where you sat, arms lazily resting on the sides of the tub. Airi scurried out of the room with reddened cheeks – no doubt picturing what events could transpire between a naked wife and her insatiable husband. And speaking of said husband, he’d leant against the pristine white walls, arms crossed against his chest as he let those dark, hooded eyes roam over your exposed skin.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I think the real pleasure here is this view.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that what you told your mistress too when you fucked her in my bed?”

Suna paused. It was a bait; he was sure of it. Choosing not to bite at your provocation, he pushed his weight off the wall and gestured to the doors. “You redecorated the room,” he announced, “Without my permission.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission. I thought we made it clear – under your suggestion – that I was to sleep in that bed, and you take the couch outside. Technically, that would make it my room, no?”

“You made Airi burn the sheets.”

“Sue me.”

“You threw away Iris’ clothes.”

“They barely counted as clothes, Your Highness. They were just thongs.”

“If this is about last night–”

“Last night was a mistake. Never speak of it again,” you warned, and just the mere reminder that you’d let him have his way with you, and you were too weak to refuse, again, no longer made the relaxing bath enjoyable. All of Airi’s efforts poured down the drain because having Suna around had your muscles stiffening with tension again. Rising from the bath, you wiped off the bubbles and suds off your body before stepping out. “What did you truly come here for? You never bother me when I’m bathing.”

Suna’s hungry gaze followed your every movement. The perverted bastard wasn’t even trying to hide it – his poor attempts of adjusting his breeches a failure once you’d put on your robe. “Her Majesty has summoned us for breakfast. She has an important announcement to make. I suggest you make haste so she won’t be anymore upset with us.”

“With you, you mean,” you waved around your lip balm, “What? Don’t look so offended. I am not the one who caused a scandal here.”

“I’m tired of arguing with you.”

You couldn’t agree more. Smacking your lips together, you walked past him, making sure to sashay your hips as you did. But before you could leave the room, Suna’s hand shot out to wrap it around your wrist. Gently, he pulled you back into him until your breasts brushed with his chest, the dampness of your robe making his shirt stick even harder on his skin.

“Wait,” he breathed out, not once taking his eyes off you as he blindly swiped for a towel. “Let me dry you off properly. It would be a shame if you made a mess on your newly decorated room.”

Your husband fell down on his knees before you could say a word.

You almost asked him what he was doing when his hands tugged at the ties of your robes, his tender touch pushing them past your shoulders until the robe pooled at your feet. You inhaled sharply. Suna was kneeling before you, caressing your leg and urging you to place at his thigh. You don’t know what compelled you to obey, but you did. Resting it on his leg, you felt too exposed – his nose was right at your stomach, his hands touching everywhere but that one place near your heat.

It was torture.

The entire act was done with slow, purposeful motions. Like an artist taking great care with his sculptures, he pressed hard on your hips to keep you in place when you shivered. His strength, his silent gestures that he wouldn’t let you slip and fall – it broke your heart.

Why couldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he touch you this way and mean it?

Why did he have to remove his ring?

The glint of the golden material caught your attention from the vanity. You picked it up where he left it last night, unconsciously hugging it to your chest until you fell asleep. Until now, you’d brought it with you, and stared at it hard enough it might’ve melted. It never did, just as he would never belong to you. And then – his finger swiped over your nipple, the cloth on his hands now damp and his breath staggering as he moved to kiss your bare stomach.

You pushed his head away.

Suna stumbled back, barely. He sat there with a dazed expression, the towel he used to dry you with now forgotten. His hands shook in his lap, his eyes blown wide with something you couldn’t quite name – longing, regret, frustration. Whatever it was, it matched yours.

“I’m dry enough,” you told him, snatching off his ring from the counter and flicking it his way. The two of you watched as it stumbled along the ground with a loud clink, clink, clink, before it rolled right at his feet. When you finally found the courage to speak, your voice was so quiet – you couldn’t hear yourself at all. “Wear it. I don’t care that it no longer means anything to you. I won’t have you causing anymore problems for me when your mother asks about it.”

When you and Suna sat next to each other at the dining hall, neither of you spoke a word.

In fact, not a single person present dared to. Her Majesty sat at the head of the table, the clink of her utensil the only thing audible as she furiously cut into her steak. She was furious, that much was obvious. Even Crown Prince Ushijima hadn’t touched his meal, and his young son, barely a boy of eight, had his lips shut the entire time.

Finally, she takes a bite, takes a huge drink of her wine, and slams the glass down. All of you jump at the sound.

“It is not every day we can all be gathered here, but as you are all aware, it is a trifling time for the Crown. We as the royal family need to be united now more than ever,” she announced, her back straight as she looked everyone in the eye. “Which is why I am here to inform everyone of some minor changes we will implement from now on, and some events we have planned for the next season. First of all, Princess–” she pointed her knife your way, “-I need you to hold your mother back. She’s getting on my nerves with all her incessant calling.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she lifted her chin, “Your Mother hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article was released. She demands I return her to you, but I think she forgets her place and yours. You are a Princess now; you are the Crown’s property. You are to stay here and see to your duties until you take your last breath.”

Forcing a smile, you willed yourself to calm down. “My mother was merely concerned, Your Majesty. I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you to tell her to stand down. I have already spoken with my advisors our next course of action and have all decided that we will deny Rintaro and Iris’ affair by all means. We are to pretend as if the article never existed. We need to show we are the Crown, the monarchs and rulers of this grand kingdom. We will not be swayed by measly gossip and defaming rumors.”

“But it wasn’t a rumor. The Crown Prince did sleep with the Princess.”

Her Majesty sighed, the sound dramatically drawn out. “Do you have any complaints, my dear? Because if you did, then you should have attended the meeting this morning.”

You gritted your teeth. “I wasn’t informed there was one.”

“That’s a shame – I thought Rintaro would tell you. It seems he likes to keep his secrets, then,” she jabbed, and your husband nervously sipped his wine as you glared at the sides of his head. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we planned a few events for this season. For this month, the four of you will be showing up to public events and you are to appear united in marriage. Laugh, kiss, hold hands – I do not care. Just make sure the cameras get it, and if anyone dares ask on any clarifications about the affair, simply tell them that it is very easy to fabricate photographs nowadays. You will deny everything. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” agreed Suna, and you scoffed. Snaking his hands under the table, he squeezed yours in assurance and whispered, “Don’t cause a scene in front of the Queen. We will talk later about this.”

“I was hoping we would.”

“Next, Iris and Y/N will be having weekend dates to show they are friends. We have already contacted an orphanage you will pay a visit to. Play with the kids, read storybooks with them, and get as many pictures as possible. Not only will it show that there’s camaraderie between you two, but hanging out with children will also imply that we can expect a next line of heirs soon.”

“A splendid idea!” Atsumu beamed, the first to dig into his meal. Rather, the Prince was halfway finished stuffing his mouth, happily rubbing his hands together at the thought. “This will all be good for the Crown, and to win the people’s trust back.”

“You really don’t know how to shut up, huh?” muttered Osamu.

“Your Majesty. Don’t you think this is going too far?” Tobio spoke up, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. Beside him, Prince Shinsuke was pleading for him to sit back down. The youngest Prince merely slapped his hands away, looking betrayed by his brother’s words. “Why is no one speaking up? Is this how the royal family really is? You would all lie to your people, deceive them we are all in one heart and mind when we are not. Is that the kind of rulers we aspire to be? Are we really the rulers they look up to?”

Prince Shinsuke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand you’re upset, but the throne wouldn’t have lasted this long if none of us pulled some strings and kept up deceiving acts. Trust me, I also do not wish to take a part in this, but Her Majesty is right. The people are already growing restless that we have been without a King for years – having Crown Prince Rintaro’s reputation tarnished will not make this better. And as far as I know, there are still many protests against having an illegitimate child on the throne,” he reminded, causing Prince Ushijima to clear his throat awkwardly. Still, Shinsuke pushed on. “Rintaro is the King the Cabinet wants. We must follow the law. Ushijima can only be crowned King until we have ran out of options.”

Your jaw dropped.

“And what of me?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, the future of the Kingdom is a heavier matter at hand than your broken heart,” Iris quipped, “Besides, if you knew about our relationship prior to the marriage, then you cannot blame anyone but yourself. You’re in this predicament because you were too cowardly to let go when given the chance.”

“That’s enough!” Tobio yelled. “You all need to stop talking about her like that. You’re all right – the Crown is more important. We need a stable ruler and for the people to not lose their trust in us. But the Princess is still a human. She was lied to, manipulated, and constantly looked down on. The least you can do right now is let her acknowledge her pain, seeing as it is clearly too much for each and every one of you to be decent human beings!”

Her Majesty paid him no mind. Waving her hand in the air dismissively, she sighed. “He is young. He will understand someday.”

At her nonchalance, Tobio’s nostrils flared. It was the last you saw of him before he kicked his chair back, storming out of the hall before everyone erupted into protests. Keiji slunk back into his seat, Shinsuke was immediately making efforts to appease the Queen by apologizing on everyone’s behalf, and Maiko was crying. And you? You glowered at the Queen before following after Tobio, the three other Princes right at your heels.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

You could hear the Princes running after you. Two pairs were rushing, but one pair of footfalls sounded more like stomping. Before you could turn down the hall where Tobio went, you were dragged by, Suna firmly gripping your elbow as he halted you in your tracks.

“Her Majesty was speaking,” he hissed, fingers digging harder to your skin. “Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rintaro. I can’t believe you right now. Letting me be friends with your mistress? Really? And you didn’t even tell me there was a meeting this morning!”

His free hand ran through his hair. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would act like this. You would’ve embarrassed me in front of the advisors. Besides, you left before I could–”

“I embarrass you? Do you even hear yourself? You’re the embarrassing one for going behind my back and sleeping with your mistress–”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Isn’t she? I wasn’t aware there was another word to describe a woman frolicking with a married man!”

His grip grew tighter as he spoke, and you squeaked out in pain. You tried to pry his fingers off of you, but Suna wasn’t having any of it. “You’re one to talk, leaving me here in this country to go around dancing with my brother–” Your husband’s face disappeared before you. In the blink of an eye, he was shoved nearly across the room and falling right at his ass.

Kiyoomi stood protectively over you, his chest rising and falling as he shook with anger.

“Stay away from my wife!”

Meanwhile, Tooru dodged between Suna and Kiyoomi, the former rising on his feet and reeling his arm back in a punch. Tooru effortlessly caught his brother’s arm, but holding him back was a different struggle of itself. “Rin, that’s enough!”

“Are you okay?”

You blinked back from the scene. Kiyoomi was now holding your arm where Suna grabbed you, checking for any injuries. Aside from a little aching, and a possible bruise that would show up tomorrow, you were unharmed. Still, the Prince wasn’t assured. His thick brows pinched together in concern, turning your arm over and over as he muttered to himself the violent things he wished to do to his brother. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really, but I want to go after Tobio.”

Kiyoomi nodded in understanding. “Go. I’ll handle this.”

You shared a knowing look with him. I’m on your side, his eyes said, and that was enough to reassure you. Giving him a nod, you quickly turned on your heels and ran. You ran and ran until you were out of breath, your corset digging into you uncomfortably. The youngest Prince sure was a fast one – he’d already reached his own study in such a short time.

Peeking through the partially closed door, your heart broke at the sight.

Prince Tobio sat on his painter’s stool, an unfinished portrait of you – smiling in your wedding dress – lay before him. He was crying, sniffling to himself and wiping his tears with the collar of his blouse. Even the sounds of his cries were too painful to hear.

Shutting the door behind you, you took your place behind him, gently squeezing his shoulders to make him look up. When he did, his bloodshot eyes greeted you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” you tell him softly, “I didn’t mean to ruin breakfast for you.”

Tobio shook his head. He pulled out a handkerchief before blowing on it, and you smiled despite yourself – he’d grown so much, yet he was still that sweet, naïve boy in your eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had his debut, and now he was flourishing into such a great, young man. Your little brother, the sweetest Prince – you would do anything for him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, sis. You’re the victim here.”

You laughed a little. Victim sounded too poor of a word choice. Turning to the canvas before you, you gestured to it. “What are you painting?”

“You,” he admitted with red cheeks, “I started on this when Rintaro announced he’d be marrying you so I could give it as a wedding gift. But Her Majesty wanted me to focus on my studies, so I didn’t have enough time to finish. I mean, it’s not even the same dress you wore on your wedding so it’s inaccurate–”

“-It looks beautiful.”

“It’s still unfinished,” his shoulders slumped in your flattery before he lightened up, already moving to pick up the brushes as he wiped his snot with his hanky. “Since you’re here, would you like me to paint you as you are now? I’ll get a new canvas.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose all your efforts on your previous painting.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured, and per his instruction, you sat stiffly to ‘pose’ for him. It’s a little awkward, and Tobio struggled to sketch you each time you fidgeted, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. Midway through his sketch, though, he placed his pencil down, his eyes brimming with tears again. “I still can’t believe Rintaro was capable of being so cruel. I’ll never forgive him for what he did,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “Are they really like this? Is everyone in the Palace truly so heartless? Will I… never find love of my own, too?”

“Oh, Tobio,” you reached your arms out, crushing him to your chest. The Prince’s tears dampened your dress, though you paid it no mind. He was too young for all this hurt – this war over the crown. He was too good for a cruel place like this. “It will get easier someday.”

Fisting your skirt, he buried his face to your neck, his whole body shivering under you. “I never wanted to be a Prince. I-I wanted to keep playing sports and go pro someday. There’s a whole world out there for me to see, and I’m so afraid I’ll never become the person I want to be. I’m afraid I might turn out like my brothers.”

You pulled back to make him look at you. Cupping his face with your hands, you shook your head firmly. “That’s not true, Tobio. You’re already a thousand times better than your brothers. Look, you’re sweet, kind, and passionate. Who says you don’t deserve to achieve your dreams? You can be who you want to be. You can see the world. I promise you that I’ll support you in anything you want to do. Anything.”

“Really?” grinning, he wiped his cheeks free from his tears. “Then… will you come to my game? There’s a match and the Coach just added me to the team. It… Well, it might be a good opportunity for you and everyone else to show you’re unaffected by the scandal, too.”

“Oh, forget the scandal. I only want to see you play,” you tell him, and the Prince’s innocent smile is so big and bright it soothed all the aches in your heart. You promised to yourself, then and there, that you would do what it takes to protect that smile. “Now, should we get to this painting?”

That talk with Tobio filled you with unwavering resolve.

The poor boy didn’t deserve to spend a minute longer in the Palace. It simply wasn’t a place for him. He needed to be out there, living his life to the fullest, and to be surrounded by good people who were healthy for him. Not his greedy, cheating brothers, and most especially not with the heartless Queen as his only mother figure.

You had to do something for him. You had to weaken the throne even further, exploit their weakness and make the monarchy crumble. If not for you, then you would do it for Tobio.

It was the reason you’d gained enough courage to dial the number weighing heavily in your pockets long before Itachiyama. That piece of paper Kiyoomi slipped into your coat just before you parted ways. You should’ve known it back then – Kiyoomi was somehow always one step ahead of you. It’s like he knew what you wanted to happen before you said out loud. What you needed before you told him what it was. And you’d done it – scheduled the meeting, hired a private chauffer, and rented out a restaurant in the middle of nowhere at the dead time of the night before you could change your mind.

Do it For Tobio. For Kiyoomi. For you.

He arrived not a minute later than the designated time. He stood tall and confident – seemingly unbothered by the mass of hate he’d accumulated. Sauntering in through the doors with a smirk, he let out a low whistle, impressed with the lack of people. You had promised him privacy, after all, and if you wanted to succeed in your plans, you couldn’t be shy in splurging a little bit of money.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, was it?”

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow, his smile growing wider as he pulled out his chair. He’s handsome, with a smile you wouldn’t deem trustworthy, and he held an aura to him that warned you to tread carefully. He was, after all, the man who singlehandedly exposed your husband’s affair. “I am flattered by your efforts, though I must admit. I did not expect you would reach out to me of all people. I assumed you wanted my head.”

You offer him a polite smile. “You have it all wrong. In fact, I’m thankful for the opportunity you’ve presented to me,” leaning forward, you slid a thin envelope his way. Inside it contained a document of your own words, one you trusted Kuroo would twist to sound more convincing. “I want you to publish another article.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. He waited for a beat, a moment or two, for you to say you didn’t mean it. You could’ve been joking. But you hold his gaze, your smile just as firm, refusing to waver from his intense gaze. “With all due respect, Ma’am, I think I’m already in enough trouble for that last one.”

Fair enough. You didn’t think he’d be that easy to convince.

Reaching beside you, you pulled out a case and clicked open the locks for him. If Kuroo was surprised before, he was most definitely flabbergasted by now. Wads of cash piled against each other stared back at him – temping him to reach out and take it. Smiling to yourself, you gently nudged the case in his direction.

“This is half of what I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you twice as much once you’ve done your part,” you promised, “You don’t need to fear, Mr. Kuroo. I’ll guarantee your protection if you do this for me.”

Kuroo chuckled to himself. Shutting the case back shut, he was quick to slide it to his side – deal done and closed. “If a lovely Princess is asking so nicely, I can’t possibly turn it down, can I?” pulling out a small notebook from his coat, Kuroo uncaps his pen with a twist of his teeth. “So let’s get into it. What story do you want, Ma’am? Do you want the truth or… something more scandalous than your husband’s affair?”

“I want you to ruin Iris,” you declared, “Inside that envelope is a list of people the Princess frequently interacts with, as well as records from her history dating back from when she moved here with mother. I want you to look into everything and pick apart whatever could destroy her reputation. There are secrets that she keeps, and I want them out in the public.”

Kuroo doesn’t bother writing that down. “Her reputation is well ruined already, Ma’am. I doubt much could make it worse.”

Your brow shoots up. “Are you doubting my abilities or questioning my demands?”

“Neither,” he reassured with a mischievous grin, “I shall write something about her, then, but what about the Crown Prince? Do I still have the assurance of your protection if he comes after me for messing with his precious little thing?”

Oh, please. His ‘precious little thing’ doesn’t even want him.

Spinning your wedding finger with your thumb, you stared at it. “Tell me, Kuroo. You’re a journalist, one that wasn’t invited at that private party my husband was in. So why were you there that night? Most importantly, how did you get their photos?” you brought your gaze back up to him, “You’re not secretly planning for the downfall of the crown, are you?”

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness. But to answer your question, then no, I wasn’t invited. I wouldn’t even know a single thing about their affair if it wasn’t for one of you.”

“One of us?” you echoed, “Are you saying someone in the royal family hired you as well?”

“Indeed. Though I must say, I never expected working with just one of you could have me set for life. What more if I teamed up with you too?”

So your theories were right. That article didn’t appear out of nowhere – someone wanted it to happen. “It was Iris, wasn’t it? She asked you to publish that because she knew I was with her husband… but that wouldn’t make any sense. That article puts her in a bad light. It couldn’t be her, right?”

“You’ll be surprised, Ma’am, but it was not the Princess,” he clarified.

Kuroo’s face pinched in contemplation, and then suddenly, pulls out a different phone from his pockets. It’s a beat-up iPhone with its battery nearly dead, but with a few clicks here and there, the video played loud and clear. The camera is shaky, the angles all wrong. Whoever recorded it clearly seemed to be inebriated. Yet there it was – the unmistakable masculine voice groaning, the slapping of skin against each other, and a high-pitched womanly moan. The camera caught nothing but long, blond hair flowing on top of her bouncing breasts before the camera was flipped, finally showing the culprit –

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu gripped Yuki’s hips, shoving the phone between their bodies to show the pistoning of his cock in and out of her. There was no point denying it now. Both their faces were clear from the video, and if this got out…

Kuroo paused the video. “I’m not supposed to be showing you this, but the Prince hasn’t kept up to his end of the bargain, so I might as well ask for your help, too,” shutting the phone off, Kuroo rested his chin on his hands. “That night, he slept with an intoxicated actress and accidentally filmed themselves in the act. The Prince was drunk himself, made the mistake of posting that video online, and merely eighteen minutes later, any traces of their sex tape disappeared. Curious?”

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit.

“He called you to write about Iris and Rintaro to cover up his scandal.”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo! And he succeeded, even if it was an impulsive decision on his side. Still, the Prince paid me handsomely because he was desperate, but he hasn’t offered me protection like he promised. I’m being hunted down by the Queen’s goons as we speak. Isn’t that why you offered to have me chauffeured here?”

You knew Kuroo prioritized his safety over money due to his current predicament. It was the reason why you risked sneaking out of the Palace and meeting him alone. His terms were clear – no witnesses, no guards, just you and him. You would keep to your word if it meant cornering Iris, but with Atsumu and that poor actress thrown into the mix… things just got more complicated.

Reaching out for Kuroo, you squeezed his hand. “You will be safe with me. I promise you this.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

You glanced at the iPhone between you two. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kuroo, but now that you know he’d do pretty much anything for money, you couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t just Atsumu’s reputation you were worried about – firstly, Rintaro would kill him if he found out it was all his doing. Second, that poor actress. She rose to fame in her career recently; this would ruin her image. If things took the wrong turn, who was to stop the Queen from forcing the two to get married if that tape was leaked? You couldn’t risk any cracks in your plan.

“Kuroo, may I have that phone?”

“It’s all yours if you throw in another five grand, Princess.”

“Consider it mine then.”

You and Kuroo left immediately after everything was settled. Just as promised, you would cover all his travel expenses. He would stay overseas to ensure his protection while he reached out to his connections to get all the information he needed, and once the article was ready, he’d publish it and disappear from the media. You covered that too – he was paid enough to live comfortably while in hiding. Now, you only needed to wait for everything to go according to plan.

First, the downfall of Iris. Next, her separation with Kiyoomi without having to let Rin ascend to the throne. And once she’s finally out of the picture, you’ll move on to your beloved husband. You’ll seduce him, have him fall completely to your whim, make him realize he could never have anyone like you again – and once he’s wrapped around your finger, you’ll plea for divorce.

A heart for a heart. A marriage for a marriage.

And if the odds play into your favor at the end of it all, there’s only one destination in mind: Kiyoomi’s farmhouse in Itachiyama.

You smiled to yourself – it would work out. You had a good feeling about it. Kiyoomi is supporting you and acting as your spy, Kita is backing you up on the grounds for divorce, and the nation has unwaveringly showed their support for you in these trying times. After all, you were just the poor, neglected wife. They expected you to spend your days crying and chasing after your deceitful husband, or to simply take it all – be silent and smile for the cameras.

Fuck what the Queen said. You won’t let her win.

Driving back to the Palace, you glanced at the time. It’s almost four in the morning, and soon, Her Majesty would be beginning her routine and expecting her daily calls from the Princes. Pressing harder on the gas, you sped up until a glint catches your eye. You glance at the rearview mirror, eyes widening at the fast approaching car from behind – a sleek, black car with the royal family’s crest on it. Shit. But – it couldn’t be the royal guards. You’d made sure no one would see you, and Airi had gotten your note to slip some sleeping pills into Rintaro’s tea so you could sneak out. Kiyoomi was informed of your plans, too, and he’d reassured he’d hold the fort down while you dealt with Kuroo.

Unless Iris had snooped through his phone and found everything out, then –

You wasted no time. You drove faster, reaching for the gun in your glove compartment as the roaring of the car behind you moved in closer and closer. Heart pounding in your chest, you speed-dialed Kiyoomi, praying to any God who was listening that he would pick up. It couldn’t be Iris, it shouldn’t be her. God forbid she does anything to provoke you into pulling the trigger.

Infidelity was one thing, but the murder of a royal family member was not something one could merely frown at. You didn’t want to be thrown into jail.

The call did not push through.

“Fuck!” you slammed your feet on the gas, watching as the car sped up even more until it was now next to you. You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the mammoth of trees and a never ending road with darkness clouding the path. Just then, the windows rolled down, and you waited with bated breath as the face finally came into view.

Dark hair was the first thing you saw. The windows rolled down, down, down, until you were staring deep into your husband’s eyes. Brow cocked, he smirked, raising the phone to show he’d been calling you – that’s why you couldn’t call Kiyoomi. Suna was interrupting the line. Shit, how was he even awake right now?

Moreover, how did he find you?

You scowled to yourself. There was no outrunning him now. Suna was a ridiculously good driver, and there was no way you would ever use a gun on him. Steeling yourself, you forced yourself to regulate your breathing – your efforts boon when Suna suddenly pressed on forward until he was a feet away from you, maneuvered his car with the hood facing your direction, and then just – stopped.

Bracing your hands on the wheel, you forced all your energy to release its power on the slamming of your brakes. The skidding of your car squeaked for what seemed like minutes until finally – finally – your came to a halt. You were breathing hard, the back of your head aching from the impact of it crashing to the headrest. Meanwhile, Suna opened his car doors in slow, languid movements, the ends of his leather black trench coat hitting the pavement. With nothing but the headlights of his car illuminating him, he looked more like an omen of death than a Prince – dressed in a white turtleneck, black pants, and a long coat that highlighted his tall figure. He looked ominous, like he carried sorrow and pain with him – pain that he was about to make you feel.

Because you knew – of course you knew; you knew him better than anyone – that the placid smile he wore was anything but.

He slammed the car doors shut. Leaning against the hood, Suna’s gloved hands reached for a lighter in his pocket as he lit his cigarette, the stick hanging from between his lips. As soon as it flickered, he pocketed the lighter back, using two of his fingers to make a ‘come hither’ gesture at you.

Clearly, you spoke too early. The odds were not in your favor.

You exited your vehicle, hands gripping the edges of the door as you gathered to courage to take one more step towards him. It wasn’t that you were afraid – he wouldn’t hurt you, not really. But too much could be taken away from you in such little time – Kuroo couldn’t have gone far, and Atsumu’s sex tape was still in the backseat. You didn’t trust Rintaro to not ruin your plans. And you wouldn’t let him, not now when you were so close to victory.

One step, two steps, three steps – your heels clicked against the road as you walked, making sure to keep your chin pointed north. Hips swaying to the side, you finally ended up before him – right between his spread legs – your husband leaning back at the hood of his car whilst he sized you up, his free hand resting behind him.

“Funny seeing you here,” he drawled out, his voice thick with barely-held back rage. “They told me you were sleeping, but last time I checked, driving while falling asleep was illegal.”

“Cheating is also illegal.”

“Your comebacks are getting old, my love.”

Your head snapped to his direction. He hadn’t called you that in forever, not since you’d returned from your honeymoon. To have him call you that now, with such a deeply rich, smooth voice and sounding like he’d just woken up, all breathy and rasp – could it be possible to fuck someone to death?

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” tipping his head to the side, Suna’s lips slowly formed into a smirk. He took a drag of his cigarette, keeping his eyes on yours as he wrapped those lips around the stick – delicately and tantalizingly slow – just like how he did when he worshipped you in bed. You breathed out hard and attempted to take a step back, but he was having none of it. Swiftly, he’d tugged on your shirt to pull you close to him, causing you to stumble and fall into his lap. Above you, your husband’s chest rumbled with amusement.

“Look at you. Always so weak for me.”

He leaned in close, his scent of smoke and expensive woodsy perfume enveloping you. It’s addicting, just as he is, and your knees grew weak. Your legs slid down just as Suna wraps a strong arm around your waist to hitch you back in place, your core resting above his thigh. There, he spreads you open with just his knees, his warm lips suddenly attaching themselves to your neck. You gasped out, hands falling to his shoulders in a measly attempt to pull him away – and oh.

Suna had different plans in mind.

“You,” he breathed in your ear, his gloved fingers popping the button of your blouse one by one. “cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness. You can slip in as many drugs you want in my drinks, you can kill me a hundred times and fuck me over again and again, but don’t you dare forget,” growling lowly in your ear, your husband took your chin in his hands and forced you to gaze deep into his eyes – pools of hazel swirling with need and wrath – “Not even death can do us part. I’ll keep on looking for you even if you try to hide at the ends of the earth.”

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna x you #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader smut #kiyoomi smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #kiyoomi x you smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #suna x reader angst #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #rintaro suna x reader #suna rintaro x you

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 6 months ago

Note

Helloo how are you? Can you write Jacaerys Velaryon and the female Snow reader? The reader may be Cregan's (older or not) sister. Thank you in advance 🌸

I started this one when the first images of Jacaerys from season 2 came out... I apologize for taking so long, but it's 3.5k words, so it should make up for the wait

Warnings: nudity (skinny dipping), implied cheating

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The visit of a prince in the North was unusual, but necessary. The new-crowned Queen needed to know if the Lord of Winterfell — Cregan Stark — was supporting her claim. So, she sent her eldest son, Jacaerys, as messenger.

Without surprise, the northmen were a little shaken when they saw the prince arriving on Vermax. Most of them had never seen a dragon. Some were afraid, others intrigued by the ‘large beast’, as they called it. The name made Jacaerys laugh. Vermax was nothing to be scared of in size, there were much bigger dragons.

Ones they should be scared of.

The day of his arrival, Cregan kindly showed the prince around Winterfell — the courtyards, the horses. However, the visit ended rather quickly as he noticed Jacaerys was getting cold walking around in his riding clothes. The leather was thick enough to keep him warm through the winds when on dragonback, but not for the dry cold and snow.

‘’Let’s continue the visit in the morrow,’’ Cregan suggested. ‘’We have a chamber prepared for you. I imagine you would like to retire and warm up before we gather for dinner. I hope you like boar. My men and I hunted this one only days ago. It’s not everyday a prince graces us with his presence!’’

Jacaerys nodded appreciatively, trying to suppress his shivers. ‘’Thank you, Lord Stark. I will let the Queen know of your warm welcome when I return.’’

Cregan chuckled. ‘’Speaking of warmth. I’ll have someone bring you warmer clothes — a cloak and gloves — to your chamber so you won’t lose a finger or two during your stay.’’

‘’That’s very kind of you,’’ the prince replied, smiling at Cregan’s humor. His breath formed small clouds in the cold air as he spoke.

The Nortman walked him to his chamber, then left Jacaerys to himself. Looking around the room, he noticed how small and dark it was compared to the ones at the Red Keep or on Dragonstone. There was a large hearth already ablaze with a roaring fire, and the bed was draped in thick furs, promising a warm night’s rest.

Before he could sit by the fire to catch some warmth, there was a knock at the door.

It must be the clothes Cregan offered for him.

‘’Come in!’’

The door creaked open, and you stepped in, the heavy wooden frame groaning in protest. The warmth of the fire hit you as you entered the chamber, holding a dark cloak lined with a fur collar. ‘’Prince Jacaerys,’’ you greeted, dipping your head respectfully. ‘’Here are the clothes my brother promised you.’’

Jacaerys turned, surprise flickering across his face. Brother? He didn’t know Lord Cregan had a sister.

He thanked you and took the clothes from you, your fingers brushing slightly, then set them down on the bed behind him. He’ll look at them later.

‘’How do you like Winterfell so far?’’ you asked, trying to make conversation, and mask the sudden flush on your cheeks. You couldn’t deny, the prince was handsome. He also didn’t look much like a Targaryen with his dark curls and eyes, but you didn’t comment on that.

‘’I have never seen snow before,’’ he admitted, glancing towards the frost-covered window.

You chuckled softly, his answer common from someone from the south. ‘’It must be cold up there for a boy of the south.’’

Jacaerys nodded, rubbing his hands together. ‘’Dragons don’t like the cold.’’

‘’I heard my brother has planned a visit to the Wall. I suggest you double up on the layers and wear knit under your clothes,’’ you advised.

The fire crackled in the hearth, echoing in the small room, slowly warming up Jacaerys. He forced a smile, honestly not looking forward to this trip to the wall. To an even colder climate. ‘’I appreciate the advice. I'll make sure to stay warm.’’

‘’Don’t be afraid to ask for more. We wouldn’t like to be held responsible for a prince’s frostbites.’’

During dinner, politics were not discussed. Instead, Cregan bragged about the boar you were eating, which he himself hunted a couple of days ago.

‘’Have you ever been hunting, Prince Jacaerys?’’

Jacaerys shook his head. He heard of the royal hunt, but never participated himself. He found it barbarous. ‘’I have not, Lord Stark,’’ he replied, his voice steady but polite.

He didn’t want to sound privileged, but all meat was bought and brought to Dragonstone. There was no need to learn how to hunt when you were born in royalty.

Cregan raised an eyebrow. ‘’All men should know how to hunt!’’ he stated firmly, slapping the table for emphasis. ‘’My father took me on my first boar hunt at fourteen. There's something primal about the hunt. The chase, the kill...it's in our blood. It’s part of becoming a man.’’

Jacaerys paused, taking a sip of his wine. ‘’We don’t hunt in the south, but my father taught me how to wield a sword.’’

On his first night, sleep turned out to be difficult to find. Jacaerys tossed and turned under the soft fur blankets, the crackling fire nearby providing warmth but no comfort. Frustrated, he slipped out of his bed, deciding that a walk might help clear his restless mind.

As he wandered through the quiet corridors of the castle, the cool night air coming through the windows brushing against his skin, he noticed someone else up and about, leaning against the banister. Jacaerys assumed it was a woman working for the Starks — a maid, perhaps —, but as he got closer, he recognized you.

‘’Couldn't sleep either?’’ Jacaerys asked, his voice cutting through the silence of the night.

You jumped, pulling your cloak tighter around you. ‘’Prince Jacaerys.’’ Your heart was beating fast in your chest, startled by the prince. No one was ever up at this hour of the night.

‘’I apologize, Miss Stark. I did not mean to scare you.’’

‘’All is well,’’ you assured, offering a small smile. ‘’Is the bed not comfortable enough for a prince?’’

Jacaerys shook his head. ‘’Nothing wrong with the bed, sleep just won't come,’’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘’You have not answered my question?’’

You exhaled a deep breath and sat on the bench overlooking the courtyard. ‘’Too much on my mind.’’

Jacaerys joined you on the bench, the cool night air brushing against your faces as you asked him about Vermax. You had seen him flying over the hills a few minutes ago, but had since gone to sleep somewhere close to the castle. Your curiosity surprised Jacaerys, but he was happy to tell you all about Vermax. How he hatched, how they bonded, and even his first ever ride.

‘’Just because my parents are dragon riders doesn’t mean I wasn’t terrified on my first flight. Trust is important when riding a dragon. There are possibilities of falling off and dying. But I trusted Vermax,’’ Jacaerys explained.

You could sense the bond between him and Vermax was more than just rider and dragon. It was a deep, unspoken connection.

‘’How does it feel like?’’

Jacaerys' face brightened. ‘’Nothing compares to the feeling of riding a dragon. The sky is the best place in the world. It's a thrill and freeing at the same time. I could take you on a ride before I return to Dragonstone,’’ he suggested, a playful glint in his eyes. ‘’If you desire.’’

‘’I’ll hold you to that.’’

In the morning, Cregan Stark took Jacaerys on a full tour of Winterfell, showing him every corner of his ancestral home. They started with the horse stables, where the horses nickered softly in their stalls, then moved to the godswood, the ancient heart tree standing solemn and silent. They explored the crypt, with its long lines of statues of the Stark ancestors, before finally arriving in the courtyard.

As they walked into the courtyard, Jacaerys saw you sparring with one of the trainers of the castle guard. He paused, taken aback by the fluidity and force of your movements. He had never seen a woman wield a sword with such skill and confidence. Your strikes were precise, each motion flowing seamlessly into the next, and the determination in your eyes was unmistakable.

‘’My sister was born holding a sword,’’ Cregan said with amusement, following Jacaerys’ line of sight. ‘’She is more skilled than some of our knights in training.’’

A smile curled on the prince’s lips, watching you with amazement. His uncle Aemond would eat dirt if he were to duel with you in a tourney.

Cregan snapped Jacaerys from his staring. ‘’Ready for some training?’’ he asked, a playful challenge in his eyes as he took out his sword from his belt. ‘’Let’s see if Leanor Velaryon taught you well.’’

When he said his father taught him to wield a sword, Jacaerys meant Harwin Strong, not Leanor. But correcting Cregan would feed the bastard rumors about him and his brothers, so he kept his mouth shut.

The following day was the dreaded visit to the Wall. Although the place sounded fascinating, Jacaerys was not looking forward to colder weather. He doubled on the layers as you advised him, and got on horseback with Cregan and a small group of men. They should be back in three days.

As always, Winterfell would be in your charge during Cregan’s absence.

‘’Is Vermax going to the Wall?’’ you asked, noticing Jacaerys struggling to secure his bag to the saddle.

‘’Yes. He will follow us. I could never leave Vermax behind. He goes wherever I go,’’ Jacaerys said, watching your smaller fingers deftly tie a knot to secure everything. ‘’Thank you for the help, Miss Stark.’’ His eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

‘’Your welcome, Prince Jacaerys.’’

Everyone got on their horses, ready to leave.

As Cregan ordered the gates to be opened, Jacaerys looked down at you, his breath visible in the chilly air. ‘’I hope it is not as cold as you made it sound.’’

‘’Have a safe travel,’’ you wished, your eyes meeting his. "And never take your gloves off outside. You’ll lose a finger."

Jacaerys chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eye. "I'll try to remember," he said, before nudging his horse forward, leaving you with a lingering smile as they rode off.

Although you enjoyed being in charge of Winterfell, you counted the days until the men would return from the Wall. It had been difficult admitting it to yourself, but you had fallen for the prince’s charm and were impatient to see a green and red dragon in the sky.

He had promised to take you on a ride before leaving the North, and you will be holding him up to that when he returns from the wall. You had seen him talk to a few of the women around Winterfell, but Jacaerys hadn’t offered anyone else a dragon ride. Only you. It made you feel a little special.

Every time you passed the banister where you had spoken that night, you could almost hear his laughter and feel the warmth of his presence. The anticipation of seeing him again was a constant flutter in your chest.

You wondered if he thought of you while he was away.

Your question was answered when he seeked for you after lunch. You had been getting ready to train in the courtyard when you heard a knock on your door. Jacaerys had a nervous smile on his face, silently praying you would still be on board with that dragon ride.

‘’How was Castle Black?’’

‘’Nothing like I expected. The Wall is very impressive. I have never seen anything this tall before.’’

‘’It was built by Brandon the Builder of House Stark about 800 years ago, with assistance from Giants,’’ you said, proud of your family history. ‘’But Cregan has probably already told you all about the Wall…’’

He had, but Jacaerys didn’t mind hearing it all again from you.

Dragons were impressive when you were standing next to them. Very impressive.

You stayed behind as Jacaerys approached Vermax, speaking to him in High Valyrian as it was the language used to train and command dragons. A small bubble of fear rose within you, knowing dragons only allowed their riders to get close. Would Vermax try to kill you if you got too near?

‘’Come,’’ Jacaerys encouraged, extending his hand to you. ‘’He won’t hurt you.’’ He was standing by Vermax’s face, introducing him to you. ‘’He’s been eating less since we arrived. It’s his way of saying he is unhappy. I don’t know if you have noticed, but Vermax doesn’t like the North. Dragons can tolerate the cold, but they prefer warm temperatures.’’

Jacaerys’s hand rested over yours as you gently touched Vermax's scaly skin. ‘’I apologize for our cold weather, Vermax,’’ you said, your voice soft as you addressed the dragon.

Vermax’s eyes, large and intense, regarded you with a curious intelligence. You felt a shiver run down your spine, but not from the cold. Jacaerys’s reassuring presence gave you the courage to stand your ground. You trusted that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

‘’He’s magnificent,’’ you whispered, marveling at the dragon's sheer size and power.

With a confident gesture, Jacaerys climbed onto Vermax’s back, then extended his hand to help you up. You settled in behind him, and he placed your hands securely around his middle.

‘’Hold on tight,’’ he said, his own hands gripping the handles of the saddle as Vermax spread his massive wings.

With a powerful leap, the dragon launched into the sky, the ground rapidly falling away beneath you. The cold wind whipped past, making you cling onto the prince.

As Vermax soared higher, the place you always called home transformed into a breathtaking panorama of gray stones, snow-covered vales and distant mountains. The exhilaration of flight was overwhelming, filling you with a sense of freedom unlike anything you had ever experienced.

Jacaerys grinned and leaned forward, making Vermax dive as you approached a forest and hover over the trees. His feet brushed the tip of the trees, shaking off the snow covering them, before going up again with a powerful flap of his wings.

You gasped and held onto Jacaerys tighter, the mix of fear and excitement making your heart race. ‘’Are you trying to make my heart burst?’’ you shouted, laughing despite the rush of adrenaline.

Jacaerys laughed, his voice carried away by the wind. ‘’I’m only giving you a true experience.’’

Vermax continued to glide through the sky, and you savored every moment — the rush of the wind, the closeness of Jacaerys, and the incredible feeling of soaring above the world.

An idea sparked in your mind as the scenery below began to look familiar. ‘’How do we land?’’ you asked.

‘’Ilagon,’’ Jacaerys commanded, and Vermax dived down again.

You climbed down from the dragon, your feet sinking into the marshmallow-like softness of the virgin snow. ‘’Follow me,’’ you said, glancing back at Jacaerys.

He was right on your heels as you led him to a cave. He was confused about what you were doing inside a cave, but let you lead the path. You’ve grown in the North, you must know where you were going. Right?

‘’Where are we going?’’

‘’You said dragons don't like the cold.’’

The further you ventured inside the cave, the more you began to feel a gentle warmth emanating from deeper within.

‘’So I’m keeping my prince warm,’’ you teased with a smile. You took another turn and then came to a halt. ‘’After your visit to the Wall, I figured you’d like to warm up.’’ You stepped aside, revealing a hidden hot spring, steam rising invitingly from the water.

Jacaerys's eyes widened in surprise and delight. ‘’This is incredible,’’ he said, his voice filled with awe. ‘’How did you know about this place?’’

‘’I got lost a few years ago during a hunt. The snow had turned into a blizzard and I could not find my way back to the campment. I was missing for hours. My father found me and took me here until the blizzard calmed down. My little hands and feet were almost frozen.’’

‘’You should not have left campment.’’

‘’I was a rebellious child.’’

Jacaerys shook his head with a smile.

Without hesitation, you began to undress, unbuckling your cloak and peeling off your gloves. You pulled at the laces of your boots, freeing your feet from their confine, and moved to the front of your dress, loosening the laces until it slipped from your shoulders. That hot water was going to feel amazing on your cold skin.

‘’You need to undress before getting in the water, you know?’’ you teased, your eyes flickering to Jacaerys and seeing him still dressed.

His cheeks flushed slightly. ‘’Yeah, I… I’ll…’’

Slowly, he began to undress, his movements a bit tentative. His cloak fell to the ground along with his riding jacket and undershirt. You couldn't help but find his shyness endearing.

You continued with your dress and socks, until you stood bare in the soft glow of the cave. As you waited for Jacaerys to finish undressing, you found yourself peaking at his smooth and slightly defined chest. You wanted to feel it pressed against you.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped into the hot spring, the water swirling around from your movement. The spring was deeper than you expected, and soon the warm water was enveloping your breasts and shoulders. The heat was intense at first, almost too hot, but it felt incredible compared to the biting cold of the North. You were used to the cold, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t cold.

You let out a sigh of relief. The steaming water was blissful after being hit in the face by the cold air during the ride.

You glanced back at Jacaerys, who was finishing undressing, his bouncy curls moving around as he pulled off his socks. His back was to you, giving you a perfect view of his behind. You sank deeper into the water, trying to drown the inappropriate thoughts filling your mind.

‘’Careful, it’s hot,’’ you warned as Jacaerys was about to step in, standing naked at the edge of the spring, the steam rising around him.

He dismissed your warning and stepped in without a sound. ‘’I have Targaryen blood. We tolerate the heat better than others,’’ Jacaerys said, sinking down until the water covered up to his neck. ‘’This feels amazing. I wish I could come and swim here everyday.’’ He basked in the warm water, closing his eyes as he floated.

A soft smile grazed your lips.

The moment of calm was disrupted as Jacaerys swam closer to you, a boyish grin on his face before he splashed water at you. You gasped in shock, and splashed him back, laughing with child-like joy. Ultimately, Jacaerys was the one to give in, raising his arms up to surrender. Your laughter fades away with the wind, leaving you both in a comfortable silence. A silence that didn’t need to be filled, nor did you want it to be.

The two of you meet in the middle, a flutter of excitement filling your stomach. You felt his leg brush your tibia, the proximity making you acutely aware of your nakedness. The thought of sinking deeper into the water crossed your mind, but the clarity of the spring left little to the imagination. Your supple breasts and hard nipples were visible beneath the surface

‘’Prince Jacaerys?’’ you spoke softly, your voice almost a whisper.

‘’Jace,’’ he corrected gently. ‘’You can call me Jace.’’ He reached out and tucked your wet hair behind your ear with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.

You leaned into his touch, a small smile playing on your lips as you nodded. ‘’Jace?’’

His gaze dropped to your lips, battling his inner dilemma of kissing you or not. The chemistry between you was undeniable, a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist. Though he was a prince, the heir to the Iron Throne, he was still a boy first, and in this moment, all titles and duties seemed to melt away.

You opened your mouth to speak again, but Jacaerys leaned in, closing the distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. You had fantasized about sharing this kiss on more than one occasion while he was away at the Wall. Now, his lips were moving over yours — for real — and your dreams had not done justice to the reality of him.

The heat of the spring seemed to intensify, wrapping around you as the kiss deepened, a mix of tenderness and passion. His hands caressed every spot of your body he could reach on you, your breasts pressing against his chest as you locked your arms around his neck and shoulders and wrapped your thighs around his waist.

You pulled back to catch your breaths, and looked at him, admiring him. His hair was slowly getting its curl pattern back, a smile looking back at you.

Jacaerys doubted that by ‘finding shared interests’ his mother meant falling for Lord Stark’s sister.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9

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#jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon imagine #hotd #house of the dragon imagine

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diejager · 8 months ago

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Hi! I got the notification that your requests are open skjsjsjs so exciting, can you do something about the noodle dragon with Monster!Task Force 141 please? That would be all, thank you and have a nice day! ❤️✨

Cw: canon-typical violence, weird water magic, weird dragon/monster shit and lore, death, crash, tell me if I missed any.

They’d gotten used to you over the month, watching you prance around them like a graceful panther in hunt, stalking around them with that cheeky smile of yours and a clawed hand always ready to patch someone up. You were a might dragon, a warm to some classifications and an Asian one to others, but the consensus was that you weren’t one to be trifled with —as most dragons were, but if anything, you were so a feline in a body of a dragon than the ferocious monster you were. Always prowling and on guard, watchful and observant, aware of the events transpiring around you like a protective cat.

They took well to you, forgoing the paranoia and apprehension at your eagerness to help them and you openness, your long tail, hard scales protecting the thick cords of sinewy muscles curled ever so softly around them, and the tuff of fur tickling any naked piece of skin. And however tender and soft-hearted you were, they’d seen the dangerous part of you, the draconic one with a strange affinity to water rather than the destructive fire they were so familiar with. Whereas Price was a chaotic force, burning everything on his path and leaving nothing but cinder and ash, you were an unmoving force of water, a typhoon and cyclone that would crash the land and leave broken pieces of what remained, cold and drowned —the calm before the storm as people said, a perfect imagery of you.

Yet there was a lingering suspicion that it was all, that there was a more monstrous part of you hidden away from their eyes. Horangi had shared such thoughts - another mythical creature of sacredness and nobility - and showed them what hehad heard of eastern dragons: giant snake-like creatures with the faces of lions and crowns of graceful antlers, born with lustrous manes and hard but flexible scales that let them dance and twirl as they wished it. Destructive beauty, Horangihad mumbled, a creature who’s image is drawn to represent beauty and nobility.

They knew, they were fully aware, that you had more to show, yet they couldn’t hold back the awe and amazement that followed the gut-deep fear and worry after they saw you fall, your figure shrinking as you plummeted into the dark and silent ocean, gone into the wide, open sea. Rather than seeing your head pop out, gasping for air while they clung to their straps and helicopter, Nikolai screaming through the comma about holding onto something, swirling left and right to avoid being hit a second time by the war ship, it was calm, a smooth plain growing in darkness, a shape forming beneath the veil of a blue ocean.

Then, before they knew it, a majestic serpent erupted from the sea, wet scales gleaming under the sun while you rose into the sky in a spiral, white fur floating like you hadn’t just come out of water. You were swift, curling in the air, your magicworking it’s wonder when you flew, stubby arms and legs moving as if you were swimming, looping around them to shield them from being narrowly hit. It was as Horangi gushed, water rose and fell with you, tendrils of salty water reaching out to curl around you, rising high to swarm the enemy ship the same way you did, circling around it until it was left submerged, swallowed up by your hydromancy. You had drowned warship in the depth of the abyss, a dark and cold pit that promised a lonely death, forgotten and painful. You had caused the deaths of hundreds with a twirling dance, an alluring, yet deadly show, like an oleander.

You made no show of joining them in the aircraft, keeping your distance from them, adequate enough to protect them from further damage without becoming a danger to them. They - especially Price, since he had never seen an eastern dragon, only from files and catalogues - gawked, gazing at your head-sized eye, blinking owlishly at them with a narrowed eyes, slitted pupil gleaming with glee at their admiration. You purred, a growling rumble that shook your gills, a deep sound shuddering through them like thunder, low and booming, but it was a happy sound, meant to comfort them from the near sinking that you’d saved them from.

Even in this situation, where they’d been saved by you, you were still trying to comfort them and reassure them despite having taken a hit or two. They were glad Laswell found you.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird-kamakse @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

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blakeswritingimagines · 5 months ago

Text

Yesterday Seems So Far Away

Summary: Tactics and Whims in the midst of an impending war don't quite work out unless you're a throuple.

Word count: 8.3k

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

Rhaenyra is sitting by a room window, staring out into a dark night, lost in her thoughts. She is clearly troubled. Her heart had been hurt countless times, and she felt like her life was spiraling out of control. She heard the door open, and she turned her head. She smiled but quickly realized that it was not one of her advisors coming to visit her with news of victories across the Seven Kingdoms. It was you and Daemon. Daemon looked at the woman before him, the two he had given his heart to and was willing to do whatever he could to protect his wives. His thoughts were in a mix as he witnessed the troubled expression and wondered what was wrong. His eyes followed her gaze, and he saw nothing but the darkness of the night outside the room. He was curious as to what had her troubled and asked softly as he sat by her side. “What is troubling you, my love..?” He asked, placing his hand on hers. “Dear, tell us what’s bothering you?” You softly asked.

Rhaenyra slowly sighed and looked at you both, her eyes were full of unshed tears. "I am worried about everything." She whispered quietly. Rhaenyra couldn't really put her feelings into words. The world seemed so fragile, and the weight of her responsibilities was overwhelming her. She was trying to make the right choices and keep everyone safe, but it just seemed like everything was falling apart. She felt like she couldn't trust anyone, and that everyone had a secret agenda. Her heart was heavy with stress and fear. The prince listened to her speak quietly. He could already tell that her stress had her mentally and physically exhausted. He was beginning to understand her thoughts, but he didn’t wish for her to feel that way. The crown was a dangerous thing that could easily swallow a person, and he could tell that was what was about to happen to Rhaenyra. “Shhh, quiet now..” Daemon whispered, stroking her soft blonde hair. “Do not let the world get to you.” He said, gently taking her into his arms. Daemon placed a comforting hand on her cheek and looked at her with eyes full of love. It was one of the worst things to see either of his wives troubled by stress. The last thing he wanted was for you two to have to suffer. “My love, listen to me, you’re doing everything you can to keep the kingdoms safe, and I’m so proud of you for that. We are always here for you, no matter what may come.” You told her softly with a reassuring smile, your hand still placed on her cheek.

Early the next morning, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, having just woken up next to Rhaenyra and Daemon. You yawned and stretched but didn't move too much so as not to disturb your partners. The events of the previous day were still fresh in your mind and you couldn't help but worry about her. Rhaenyra was always a strong woman, but you could see that she was carrying so much weight, and you hated seeing her like that. You knew that the crown must be heavy, especially now during the dance of dragons. Rhaenyra was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on the map of the Seven Kingdoms laid out before her. She was tracing her fingers across the coastlines of the Realm, studying it and trying to plan out their next move. She was clearly still consumed by her worries and responsibilities. You could see this and came up behind her, pressing a hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder.

Jacaerys and Lucerys entered the room, giving Rhaenyra a small bow. As they approached her, she could see that they looked nervous and worried. They didn't say anything, as they waited for her to speak. She immediately felt their anxiety but tried not to show it. "Is there anything you would like to tell me?" Rhaenyra asked with a soft smile. She tried to hide her own worries and fears and to be strong for her sons. Jacaerys and Lucerys exchanged a look before Lucerys spoke to her, his tone was nervous yet sincere. "We wish to volunteer to go and gather more allies…" Lucerys gulped, hesitant to say the next words. He held his breath and waited for a reply from her. Jacaerys and Lucerys looked at each other nervously again, before turning their attention back to their mother. Jacaerys spoke up finally, his voice steady as he was confident in this choice. “We have decided to go and forge alliances on our own. We have discussed it between ourselves, and we have decided to go to Storm's end and the North.” He said, speaking quickly and nervously. His eyes were fixed on everyone, waiting for a reaction.

You could feel something about Lucerys going to Storm's End, like a premonition or a bad feeling. You couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but something about it just felt off. You decided to trust your instincts and speak up. You walked closer to Rhaenyra, wanting to pull her aside and speak with her privately. You whispered in your wife’s ear, “I have a bad feeling about Lucerys going to Storm’s End. Something just doesn't feel right about it.” Your voice was soft, yet filled with a mixture of worry and concern. You didn't want Rhaenyra to overreact, but you also felt like you had to speak up and say something. "I trust him," Rhaenyra whispered, giving your hand a squeeze as she leaned in to speak. Something about going to Storm's End just didn't feel right, but she tried to push those thoughts away. She had always taught her sons to be strong and confident, and she didn't want to undermine that by showing her own doubts. She also trusted Jacaerys to look out for his brother, and she was confident in their abilities to forge the alliances they needed.

Rhaenyra slowly turned her head to stare at Lucerys. Her face was solemn she knew that you had a good gut instinct, and she also knew that she shouldn’t ignore your concerns. She spoke carefully, trying to choose her words carefully. “But if you really feel that Lucerys shouldn’t go, then you have a good reason. Tell them. I will make adjustments in our plan.” A few more months had passed, with the tide of war slowly shifting in the Black's favor having intercepted the supplies to the Green capital. The news that came through the reports filled the couple with a sense of relief, knowing that the efforts were paying off. Rhaenyra can't help but allow herself a small smile as news of the victories comes in. The war is still far from over, but the tide is slowly turning in her favor. Having managed to intercept the supplies going to King's Landing, preventing them from reaching the Green base of operation. This means that the Green forces are stretched thin and they have a disadvantage on both land and sea. The Queen feels a sense of relief wash over her, knowing that everything is making progress. She can only hope this continues.

"I'm glad to hear about our victories. But I must admit, I'm worried about the common people. I know that we're fighting for the Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, but I can't help but think about all those people dying. And all those who lost their homes and loved ones… It breaks my heart. Do you have any idea what we can do to help them… to alleviate their suffering?" You ask your partners with a genuine concern in your voice. Rhaenyra sighs deeply as she hears your genuine concern. She understood the concern about the innocent lives caught in the crossfire of the war, it breaks her heart too. She knows that there is little that can be done now, but once winning the Crown, she intends to do as much as she can to rebuild the kingdom and help those who have suffered. "I wish there was more we could do, but for now we have to focus on fighting this war. We will rebuild when it is over, I promise." The Queen replies solemnly.

Daemon paused as he listened to your words, and a solemn expression quickly covered his face as he thought about the innocent people suffering the most from the war. He listened to you, his hands clasping your shoulder as he stared at you with a thoughtful look in his eyes as he spoke. "We have to win the war, that is the only way to stop the suffering of our subjects, that's the best way to help them." He paused for a beat before a pained expression crossed his face, "We cannot allow the Greens to win." Rhaenyra looks at you thoughtfully as you suggest doing more than their part. She appreciates the concern but also the initiative taken to help the common folks. The Queen sees the value in your efforts. Despite the war they are fighting, the Realm is still their responsibility and they must look out for the people within it. Despite not being able to act on it currently, Rhaenyra is open to exploring possible ways for them to help the common people during times of war.

Although the war has brought about great losses and suffering to the people of the Seven Kingdoms, you were determined to help them in any way you could. Over the next few weeks, you dedicated yourself to providing aid and support for the common folk, who have been hit hard by the conflict. You arrange for food and supplies to be sent to villages and towns throughout the land, providing relief for those who have been struggling as a result of the hostilities. Your efforts gain the recognition and appreciation of many of the locals and even win some of them to Rhaenyra's side. Daemon was glad to hear the news of how you were helping the common people, they were the ones taking the brunt of the war and needed all the help they could get. He had heard of how the locals were praising your actions and felt pride swell in his chest as he watched his love doing good for the people. In the weeks that followed, Daemon would join you in some of your efforts, doing all in his power to help the innocent people of the Seven Kingdoms. Both of you making sure not to let a single person go unhelped.

You paused as your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden feeling ill and your stomach had a sharp pain. This sudden sickness had struck you by surprise, and you could feel the nausea overwhelming you. You felt weak and felt the room begin to spin around you as you gripped your stomach. Both Rhaenyra and Daemon were immediately concerned when they noticed your sudden illness. Both were quick to your side and taking your hand, gently stroking it as Rhaenyra looked at you with worried eyes. "My love, what is it? Are you feeling alright? Rhaenyra said with a concerned look on her face, clearly worried for your well-being. You groaned as the nausea became overwhelming, and you gripped your stomach tighter while letting out a small cough. You managed to raise your head to look at both of them, your eyes were heavy and you looked washed out. A small sweat on your forehead, you attempted to smile at the two of them, but your efforts was in vain as you felt more ill. Daemon was by your side watching closely, his eyes filled with concern for your well-being. He placed a hand on your forehead briefly, and could feel your body burn up. "I-I'm fine."

The Queen was quick to notice the symptoms that you were experiencing. Your body temperature felt hot to the touch, along with the sweat and cough were signs enough that you weren't well. She glanced over to Daemon, their worried faces were telling enough. They knew you weren't okay. "My love, you are not fine," Rhaenyra said with concern in her voice. "Let us go see a maester about this." You nodded weakly, as you grasped tightly onto Rhaenyra's hands for the support you needed. You could barely stand up on your own, your legs were shaky and you felt as if you would faint. Despite your weakness, there was no denying how ill you were, and a maester was the only answer. Daemon supported you on one side, his hand tightly grasping yours. Rhaenyra gently wrapped her arm around you, while Daemon supported you on your other side to hold you up while they walked her to the maester's quarters. Both of your partners were concerned to see the state that you were in, it was clear that you were very ill and needed medical care. In the moments it took them to travel there, the Queen spoke softly to you. "My love, stay with me. I am right here, nothing will happen to you."

Daemon's hand grasped yours tightly as they led you through the halls, taking you toward the Grand Maester's office. As they reached the office, the Grand Maester stepped towards you, his expression concerned as he observed the condition you found yourself in. "What seems to be the problem, my Lady?" The Grand Maester asked, his eyes scanning the three of them, before narrowing at you. "Our wife has fallen ill, but we don't know with what," Daemon said, his voice serious as he watched the Grand Maester's expression. He could tell that the man's concern mirrored their own, the expression on his face was enough for him to know. You remained quiet next to him, letting out a small cough, while still clinging onto the Queen's hand. You smiled weakly as the maester approached, Rhaenyra's grip on your hands had given you some form of comfort, you were thankful that you could be able to lean on Daemon and Rhaenyra when you needed it most. Daemon's presence by your side was also a comfort, knowing that he was beside you, keeping his presence close. The maester's words alerted all of them in a quick motion, and Daemon spoke up again. "She doesn't feel well, she is nauseous and feels like she couldn't stand on her own," Daemon explained for you.

"I see." The Grand Maester's expression remained serious, observing your demeanor as you clung to your partners. His eyes darted from you to Daemon. When Daemon explained the symptoms you were experiencing, the Grand Maester sighed, before nodding to himself, as if something had just fallen in place. "May I speak with her in private, please?" The Grand Maester requested. Daemon and Rhaenyra both looked at you with concern, yet neither said anything as they awaited your response. Despite the feeling of nausea, you forced yourself to nod as the Grand Maester asked to speak with you privately. Your lips curved upward, and a weak smile was still possible on your face. You had a feeling of what the maester was going to say but decided to let him say it, you would not deny any help you were offered at this point.

The Grand Maester led you to a secluded room, away from Rhaenyra and Daemon. They all sensed the possible nature of the subject the Maester might bring up but remained silent as the two entered the room. The Grand Maester motioned for you to sit on one of the seats in the room, his look was sympathetic. "Now, dear Lady, I must ask you some questions." The Maester began, his tone was kind and patient. You sat on one of the chairs, feeling even more dizzy and ill than before, your mind was a blur and you could barely think straight. The room seemed to spin once more, and you thought you might faint. You gripped the sides of the chair, to keep still, and glanced up at the maester, feeling yourself getting tired. "Of course." You said to the maester in a small voice of your fatigue, your breath coming out in shallow rasps. The Grand Maester studied the condition you were in, with signs of nausea, weakness and fatigue. He sensed the possibility of one specific diagnosis given your symptoms. It was a diagnosis that they were all hoping it wasn't true right now, but deep down, they knew it could possibly that. "My Lady…" The Maester began again. "When was the last time you had your moon's blood?"

You paused for a moment, struggling to recollect your memories, it was all a bit of a blur to you due to the large fight taking place. You were exhausted at this point, even thinking was taking a toll on you. But you remembered, it had been a while since you had last had your moon's blood, far too long than it should have been. "I don't remember exactly, but it has been some time. Why?" You asked the maester with a faint look of confusion, feeling the weakness wash over you. The Grand Maester knew that he had his answer. His expression turned somber and his voice lowered to a somber tone. He didn't want to deliver the news, but someone had to. The Maester could only see the sorrowful and concerned faces when he revealed the truth. "Dear Lady," He began again. "My guess is that there might be a possibility that you are with a child. Do not lose hope, however, my Lady, my examination was not definite. I shall perform some tests and will confirm it."

When the Grand Maester emerged from the small room when the tests were done, his expression was grim, and the faces of Daemon and Rhyraena were also somber. Daemon was watching the maester with a keen eye, he was still on high alert, but he knew deep down the maester would confirm what he already feared. "The Lady of Dragonstone is pregnant with a child." The Maester spoke, and both Daemon and Rhaenyra remained silent as if they were still unable to accept it. They had suspected as much, but the confirmation made it even more real for them. The tense atmosphere remained, as they remained with the silent news for a few moments. Daemon took the lead again, as he took a step toward the Grand Maester. "How far along is she?" He asked with a solemn expression, his eyes fixed on the Maester. The Grand Maester looked back to Daemon, he saw the genuine concern and care for his partner in his eyes. Despite the severity of the situation, he had a sense of understanding that Daemon and Rhaenyra wanted to be there for their wife during the pregnancy. The Maester was quick to give your partners the information he found of your pregnancy. "She is about three months along, we can say she is halfway there." the Maester answered in a serious tone that matched Daemon's as he kept his gaze low.

The two of them entered the room with a sense of quietness to them, both of them were filled with concern and worry, and their steps were gentle as they walked towards you. You were no doubt in a fragile state of your pregnancy and their presence could only be a form of comfort to you at this point. Their eyes scanned the room as they approached, the room was quiet except for your soft breathing. You were still seated in one of the chairs in the room, you were clearly in a fragile state given your exhaustion and nausea. You kept your breaths slow and deep, you could still feel some nausea, but the feeling was slowly beginning to lessen. You could hear Daemon and Rhaenyra slowly approaching, their presence alone was enough to calm you down. Your eyes met theirs as they approached, you took note of the worry in their eyes and the gentleness with which they treated you. You were grateful for their presence. Each of you was filled with worry and concern, the pregnancy felt more real than ever - which was a blessing, but the thought of bearing a child under such circumstances was both a blessing and a curse. Your thoughts were mixed, and your mind was still foggy from the news. "I don't wish anyone to find out yet."

The two of them could feel the fatigue and discomfort that which you were facing, and so they remained a good distance from you, trying to avoid causing you any discomfort. Daemon understood the concern about the news being released to the world, so he did not want to rush into releasing the news so soon. He knew you were still in a delicate place, and wanted to ensure your well-being. Rhaenyra spoke gently to you. "We understand, no one shall learn the news until you are feeling better, we will tell no one our news." She said with a reassuring smile. "We would never tell anyone about this, your secret is safe with us," Daemon replied to you, your concern was evident through your expression and his voice held a level of kindness as he spoke, Daemon knew the stress and exhaustion that came with the news and decided to try and calm you down. The Greens were bound to know the news, after all, the Grand Maester could not keep such a thing hidden for long. This news had been leaked to the Greens, and then it had spread like wildfire across the Seven Kingdoms, and the Green faction had all the more reason to oppose you now. The people loved that you three were having a child, especially in this situation. Your pregnancy was seen as a blessing by the little people, the Greens hated it, but the small folks were praising it.

The small folk praised the pregnancy, not only for the reason that it was a blessing for you, Rhaenyra, and Daemon's marriage, but also because it symbolized the new era and new hope that would come with the child. The small folk would stand by the Black side, for you were the ones offering hope and prosperity to the common people. You were aware that Greens would oppose your pregnancy, but they could not deny its potential and the possibility of a new hope it brought with it. The child carried within you would change the entire scope of the conflict. The Greens are clearly dissatisfied with the news, in fact, the Greens find themselves completely appalled at the news. The knowledge of a child only made it more certain that they would oppose the Blacks, for this would be an outright declaration to crown Rhaenyra as Queen.

Otto attempts to sway the people back to their side, he tries everything to sway them away from the Blacks. However, the people were unwavering in their devotion to your pregnancy, and the Blacks, did not heed his words and simply ignored Otto. The Black supporters would have their devotion to the Blacks further confirmed, and would find themselves even more set in their choice to defend your pregnancy and support the Blacks. Larys would mention that he had a possible spy named Ada, which was no secret, as everyone knew about his network of spies across the seven kingdoms. He would go on to further mention how he was able to influence the thoughts of people and alter their views possiably, using this method to his advantage he would propose using the spy to sway some of the people's favor. He would offer his services to Otto as the two planned on how to combat the growing support for the Blacks and the unborn child.

Ada had infiltrated one of the inns near Dragonstone where the Black's supporters would often gather to exchange information and show their support for the Black's cause. The spy observes the people of the inn, noting down the conversations and thoughts, and listening to the concerns and what the perceptions of the Greens were. Particularly watching out for any whispers or conversations concerning your pregnancy, and how the common people felt about it. She would report all the findings back to Otto. During the next few weeks, the spy worked late into the night in the kitchens, before slipping some poison into the tea secretly, she managed to do it discreetly, slipping it inside the cup of tea that she had learned was part of your nightly routine without anyone suspecting anything. Delivering it to you before being dismissed for the night just to quickly leave without a second thought. You were feeling quite a bit better after resting for a while, you had no more nausea and the feeling of exhaustion was slowly beginning to lessen slightly. However, you still felt a little weak, the fatigue was still evident in your expression. You were currently sitting on one of the chairs in your shared room, trying to remain comfortable as you did so. You were not feeling as terrible as before but were still in a fragile state.

You had drank the tea given to you, unaware of the poisonous properties, and slowly you were suffering from the effects of the poison slowly spreading throughout your body. You began to experience discomfort and nausea again, with chills beginning to set in. You began to feel weak and lightheaded, and your fatigue became more profound. Rhaenyra and Daemon would find you sick and in an almost unconscious state, the pregnancy had weakened you already, and now the poison made things worse. Rhaenyra and Daemon's faces both turned grim, and their expressions grew solemn as they saw your fragile state of health when they entered the room. The exhaustion and fatigue were evident within you, along with the slight nausea and chills that were setting in. Your weak and lightheaded state caused greater concern for both of them, the pregnancy had already been taking its toll on you, and they feared what might happen to you and the unborn child. "We have to get the grandmaester right away," Daemon spoke firmly, taking note of your state. He could see the sudden sickness taking root and growing stronger and stronger, and the more time it had, the worse the effects would become. His words seemed to indicate that he had a gut feeling about how serious this could be, and a sense of urgency began to manifest in him.

They both knew they needed a Maester, to examine and attend their partner. Both Daemon & Rhaenyra frantically ordered a Grandmaester to come immediately. It was their worst fear realized, but they had to act quickly. You and the unborn child were suffering from the effects, they could not afford to lose you both. The order for a Maester had been heeded, and the Grand Maester soon entered the room and moved towards you. Daemon and Rhaenyra remained aside as the Maester examined you, they were both still in a state of panic, they prayed the Grand Maester would have good news for them, that he would be able to save you and the unborn child. Their hope remained that a maester would have knowledge that could cure you without harming the child. Both you and the baby meant the world to them. The Grand Maester examined you, observing your symptoms of fatigue, exhaustion, weakness, nausea and chills. The poison was slowly taking hold of your body and was the most likely culprit of your current condition, the poison was spreading in your system at rapid pace. The Grand Maester, in all of his knowledge, knew that the poison was not an easy matter to deal with, but he had to find a way to cure it without harming you or the babe. Knowing your safety and well-being was foremost in everyone's mind, most importantly in the minds of Rhaenyra and Daemon.

The Grand Maester worked immediately to counteract the poison, attempting to find an antidote or remedy that could neutralize it enough without harming you or your child. The curing process was risky and difficult, especially given the fragility of their partner and the pregnancy, so the Grand Maester had to be extra cautious to not make the effects worse. Rhaenyra and Daemon watched in silence, their eyes were fixed on the Grand Maester with intensity as the process took place. Their expressions were stoic yet worried, trying to keep strong for not only you but also their unborn child. The Grand Maester's efforts to counteract the poison continued for what seemed like ages. He worked tirelessly, monitoring both you and the unborn child's health to ensure the safety was not further compromised. After a significant period, he finally managed to find an antidote that effectively counteracted the poison's effects. He proceeded to administer the remedy, carefully observing your condition and waiting to see the impact it had on your health and the baby's.

The Grand Maester managed to find an effective antidote that helped counter the effects of the poison, allowing you to begin to recover. It took time, and the Grand Maester had to monitor your condition closely, making sure the antidote did not have any adverse effects. Daemon and Rhaenyra remained present in the room, watching intently as you began to show signs of recovery. Rhaenyra's expression relaxed, her tense demeanor from before had eased somewhat and she seemed more hopeful. As your condition improves, Rhaenyra realizes the need to find out what happened and how the poison ended up in your tea. She looks at Daemon and quietly speaks to him. "My love, we need to find out how this happened. Find out who put poison in our dearest's tea. The culprit must be found and brought to justice. Daemon nodded his head, knowing the gravity of the situation. He understood the need to get to the bottom of it.

Daemon nodded in agreement as he listened to Rhaenyra's words, he knew she was right. They needed to find out what happened and who was responsible for putting poison in their partner's tea. His expression hardened as he considered the gravity of the situation. He knew what needed to be done…the culprit needed to be found and brought to justice, and he was determined to do just that. "I'll find out who did this," Daemon said sternly as he locked eyes with Rhaenyra, his determination and anger were evident in his voice.

The atmosphere was tense as the Black Council gathered, the events that had taken place left an uneasy feeling over the group that lingered in the air. No one could deny the gravity that loomed over them as they all assembled, some faces looked tired, some still held an expression of anger and some showed relief. The Black Council had gathered amidst the storm of chaos, their conversations now held an air of importance. Rhaenyra sat at the head of the Black Council table, her expression stoic and filled with a sense of authority. She surveyed the group and the faces of her trusted council members, she could see the varying emotions on their faces as they sat before her. From the tired expressions to the ones full of anger and relief. Her eyes flicked between each and every one of them, waiting to hear their reports on the current situation.

As you made your entrance into the room, the atmosphere was immediately filled with an air of solemnness and tension. Though you were supposed to be resting, you couldn't stay away as you were compelled by guilt for what happened. The coldness and detachment in your expression didn't go unnoticed as you joined the Black Council, and Daemon and Rhaenyra, despite being relieved that you looked better, were concerned about your behavior and well-being. Despite your exhaustion and the recent events that had taken place, was present and sat between Daemon and Rhaenyra at the table. Your expression was cold and distant as you looked over the other members of the Black Council, your eyes lacked the warmth that was usually present. Your gaze was firm and determined, but there was a sense of pain lingering beneath the surface.

Daemon moved toward you, his expression filled with concern. He knew you were supposed to be resting, but here you were, showing up to the Black Council meeting and acting cold. He could tell you felt guilty for what had happened, and it was clear you needed rest and time to recover, but he knew you felt compelled to be here as well. He gently took hold of your arm, attempting to pull you aside for a moment. Seeing the cold expression on your face and the firmness in your eyes, Daemon couldn't help but immediately go to you, he reached out and gently grasped your arm, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Darling…you should be resting," he said gently, looking at you as if pleading with you, trying to persuade you to let them take care of things. You looked up at Daemon for a brief moment, your gaze softening for a moment. You understood his concern for you and the baby, you could see it in his eyes. Despite the firmness on your face, you couldn't help but feel the need to be here in the Black Council meeting even in your weakened state. You nodded your head in acknowledgment of Daemon's words of concern, but you gently placed your hand on his, silently reassuring him that you wanted to be here before you sat down. Your tone filled with a fierce sense of determination to be in the meeting. Your words were sharp, leaving no room for debate. "I will rest when the matter is handled. Until then, I will need to be here. Please do not fret over me, my love," you said firmly to him, your voice filled with a certain authority.

Daemon looked back at you with a mixture of concern and a reluctant acceptance. He could see the determination in your eyes, and he knew that nothing would change your mind. He nodded to you, reluctantly at first, but then with a sense of understanding. "Very well then," he said with a sigh, his eyes softening slightly as he took your hand in his. He understood how important this was to you, and he didn't want to add to your stress. Later on into the night as you lay there, sandwiched between Daemon and Rhaenyra, you could feel a mix of emotions swirling within you. The events of the day had been a rollercoaster of anxiety, concern, and uncertainty. However, being close to your partners, their bodies providing warmth and a sense of security, made you feel a little more at ease but couldn't seem to quiet your mind like normal causing you to get up carefully and step closer to the window. Daemon and Rhaenyra were both sleeping peacefully, oblivious to your turmoil. They seemed content, but you were too worried to sleep like they were, you had a weight on your shoulders, and it was keeping you up at night. Daemon stirred slightly as you stepped closer to the window, his eyes flickering open for a moment before he saw you standing alone. He silently sat up in bed, watching you with a look of concern.

Seeing you standing alone by the window, Daemon could feel the tension emanating from you. He slipped out of bed and approached you, his movements gentle and deliberate. He stood behind you with a sense of concern and understanding, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder. "What's troubling you? Why can't you sleep?" Daemon asked you gently, his voice tinged with worry. He hated seeing you so troubled and wanted to help alleviate your pain if you'd let him. The feeling of Daemon's touch was grounding. You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. You took a deep breath and turned your head slightly to look at him as you responded to his question. "It's the incident, the poison that was put in the tea… the thought that someone could do that to me, to us… it's troubling," you admitted softly, your voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. His expression darkened as you explained your worries about the incident and the poison. Daemon gently drew you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace as a sense of anger and protectiveness took over his features. He hated it as much as you did, and he wanted nothing more than to shield you from any harm. "I know…I know," he said, holding you close, his voice filled with a mixture of sympathy and anger. "But I will not let anything come to you. Neither will Rhaenyra. We will keep you safe, I promise."

You allowed herself to be enveloped in his embrace, finding comfort in his protective hold. You nodded in understanding, knowing that Daemon and Rhaenyra's support and protection meant a lot to you. However, there was a flicker of a small, wry smile on your face as you responded softly. "I don't doubt your determination, my love," you said, your voice filled with affection, your eyes glinting with a hint of playfulness. "But… you do understand I'm not a damsel in distress. I can protect myself too, you know." Daemon couldn't help but chuckle at your words, his expression softening slightly as he felt a sense of admiration for your determination. He grinned as he replied, a note of affection in his voice. "Oh, darling, I know you can protect yourself. You're a force to be reckoned with, but let us take care of the problem, yes?" He reached out to caress your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and respect. "We just want to keep you safe. You and our child." Daemon couldn't help but chuckle softly as you spoke, acknowledging your determination and strength. He knew you were no damsel in distress, and he recognized your ability to take care of yourself. "I know you can protect yourself," he said with a wry smile, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "Yet I will always want to guard and protect you. Our enemies will rue the day they ever threatened you or our unborn child," he said, a touch of steel creeping into his voice.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you heard Daemon's reply. You reached up to place your hand over his, holding it against your cheek. "You do love being the knight rescuing the fair lady," you teased, your voice filled with affection and a hint of teasing. "Thank you, my love. I am lucky to have your protection," you added, a flicker of sincere appreciation shining in your eyes. Daemon chuckled at your remark, enjoying your teasing banter. He gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, a soft and tender gesture. "Aye, rescuing fair maidens is just one of many of my talents," he responded with a wry smile. His expression grew more serious as you thanked him for his protection. His eyes held a gentle and caring gaze as he looked at you, his hand squeezing yours softly. "And I'm always here to protect those I love. You and our unborn child are my priority." The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, becoming more intimate and serious. Your eyes locked onto Daemon's, a flicker of regret and sincerity shining through. "Daemon," you started, your voice low and sincere. "I want to apologize. For earlier, for distancing myself and being cold. I should have let you in more, and I'm sorry for not considering your feelings. You're more than just my lover; you're my partner, my confidant. And I value your support immensely."

Daemon's expression softened as he listened to your words, his gaze filled with a mix of understanding and affection. He could sense the sincerity behind your apology and the regret in your voice. "Darling…I appreciate your apology, and I accept it. I understand that you've been under a lot of stress and going through a lot. But please, from now on, let me in. Share your worries and thoughts with me. You are never a burden to Nyra or me, and I want to be there for you, just like you are for Rhaenyra and me," he said, his voice gentle and sincere. You felt a pang of guilt in your heart, knowing that your distance had affected your partners as well. You reached out and gently took his hand, intertwining your fingers. "I will. I promise. I'll try not to shut you out and keep everything inside. From now on, we'll face everything together, as a team."

The months had gone by, and your pregnancy proceeded smoothly. As the time drew closer to your due date, you were constantly checked and monitored by the Grand Maester, given how risky the poison had been for you and the baby. Rhaenyra and Daemon never left your side; their constant presence provided you with comfort and reassurance. As the day of childbirth approached, your contractions grew more intense, and soon enough, you were ushered into the birthing room by the midwife and Grand Maester. In the birthing room, the atmosphere was tense as the midwife and Grand Maester prepared you for childbirth. Daemon and Rhaenyra stood by your side, their hands tightly clutching yours as you went through each contraction, offering their support and doing everything they could to try and soothe your pain. He whispered words of encouragement, his voice filled with love and worry. You squeezed Daemon's hand tightly, your grip almost painful but he did not flinch. Rhaenyra took a wet towel and wiped your forehead gently, whispering words of encouragement and support as well. “You’re doing well, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra's voice was steady and calming. “Just breathe through it, just like we practiced.” Daemon winced slightly as you squeezed his hand tightly during the contraction but held strong, his gaze filled with a mix of worry and admiration for his love's strength.

"You're an absolute warrior, darling," he said to you tenderly, his voice filled with awe and pride. Rhaenyra continued to wipe your forehead with the warm towel, her whispered words of encouragement filling the room with a sense of reassurance and love. She whispered soothing words and guided you with her words, supporting you through each contraction. You took deep breaths, feeling the pain and contractions growing more intense. You gritted your teeth as you shook your head, your grip on Daemon's hand never faltering. "I… I don't know if I can do this. It’s too much…" you managed to gasp out, your voice filled with a hint of despair. Then, you let out a low groan as your body tensed with another painful contraction. As the contractions grew more intense, Daemon tightened his grip on your hand, his heart clenching in worry and solidarity. "You can do this," he spoke firmly, his gaze locked onto you. "You're one of the strongest people I know, and you've got this. Just a little bit longer," he said, his voice filled with determination and belief in your strength.

The Grand Maester observed your condition closely, the pain and exhaustion evident on your face. The contractions were growing in intensity, and he could tell the childbirth would be difficult and dangerous. He turned to Rhaenyra and Daemon, his voice filled with concern and caution. "My Queen, my Prince, I fear the baby is in distress and the contractions are growing too painful. We may need to consider a cesarean section to ensure the safe delivery of both the mother and the babe," the Grandmaster said cautiously. Hearing the suggestion, your eyes widened and flashed with a mix of fear and defiance. You vehemently shook your head and protested against it. "No... No, I refuse," you gasped out, your voice a mix of pain and determination. As the Grand Maester spoke, both Daemon and Rhaenyra immediately tensed, worry etched across their faces. Rhaenyra's grip on your hand tightened, Daemon's heart filling him with dread and anxiety. He glanced at Rhaenyra before turning back to you with a mixture of worry and understanding. "Darling, the Grand Maester only wants what's best for you and the baby," he said softly, his voice tinged with concern. "Please, darling. Let's consider all options to ensure a safe delivery."

After refusing the c-section, you insisted on giving birth naturally. You ordered the Grand Maester out of the room and had the midwives fill a warm tub with water. Once everything was prepared, you let yourself be helped into the water, your body finding a little relief from the pain as the water gently cradled you. You reached out for Daemon's hand, your grip tight, while Rhaenyra remained by your side, ready to support you. Daemon turned to you, his voice filled with love and worry. "My love, do you truly want to go through this without the Grand Maester's assistance? The risk…" Once you finally allowed yourself to get into the water, you felt a slight relief from the intense contractions as the warm water enveloped you. Your grip on Daemon's hand tightened further, squeezing it firmly as though seeking his strength through your own. Rhaenyra stayed by your side as well, her presence a silent comfort and support for you. The midwives had left the room, leaving the three of them alone. Daemon's voice, laced with worry, rang out as he questioned your decision.

You nodded your head resolutely, your eyes filled with determination and resolve. "Yes, Daemon," you said softly, your voice betraying your pain. "I want to try to do this without the Grand Maester's assistance. I trust you and Rhaenyra to help me through. I know the risk, but I have faith in us. We can do this together." As the hours passed and your contractions intensified, the pain becoming almost unbearable, you began to waver in your decision. "I… I don't know if I can do this, my love…" you gasped out, your voice filled with despair. Yet, you steeled yourself and shook your head, your expression determined. "But… I have to." Daemon squeezed your hand, his expression one of love and encouragement. "You can do it, my love. Just a little more. You're almost there." After what felt like an eternity, the room filled with the sound of a wailing baby. Rhaenyra carefully placed the newborn baby, a healthy baby girl with tufts of blonde hair, in your arms. Tired but relieved smiles spread across their faces as they witness the arrival of their child.

Daemon stared down at the newborn child in your arms, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe, wonder, and a profound sense of overwhelming love. He reached out, gently cradling the baby's head in his hand, his touch filled with tender adoration. His gaze flicked between the baby's face and yours, his heart swelling with an unquantifiable amount of love and pride. As the sound of the newborn's cry filled the room, a wave of relief washed over Daemon and Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra looked at you and the infant with a mixture of love and wonder in your eyes, your own exhaustion mixed with the radiant joy of a mother. Daemon's eyes widened in awe and pride, his fingers tracing gently over the baby's soft skin. "You did it, sweet girl," Daemon whispered tenderly to you, his voice filled with admiration and love. "She's…. perfect."

Tears streamed down your face as you held their newborn daughter in your arms, your expression filled with a mixture of exhaustion, joy, and awe. You looked up at Daemon and Rhaenyra, your voice filled with overwhelming emotions. "She's here… she… she's real." You whispered, your voice choked with tears. You held the precious baby girl in your trembling arms, feeling a well of love and joy, unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Rhaenyra's heart swelled with pure joy and love as she watched the tender scene unfolding before her. She gently placed a hand on your shoulder, her voice filled with tender contentment. "Yes… she's real, and she's beautiful," Rhaenyra spoke softly, her gaze flickering between you and the tiny bundle of joy they had brought into the world. Daemon's eyes softened as he watched the scene unfold, his heart filled with an inexplicable love and gratitude. He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of damp hair away from your forehead, his touch tender and filled with affection. "She is real. She's ours," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of warmth and a hint of awe. Rhaenyra leaned in closer, her own eyes gleaming with adoration and love as she gently wrapped her arms around you, creating a tight embrace.

As the three of them embraced, cherishing the precious moment together, Daemon leaned in close and whispered in your ear. "I am in awe of you, my love. Your strength, your determination… you're a force of nature. And now we have this beautiful, miraculous girl, all because of you. I will forever count myself lucky to have you ladies in my life." You leaned into the embrace, letting the exhaustion and joy wash over you. You were overwhelmed by the love and adoration that filled the room, the feeling of your family surrounding you creating an indescribable sense of fulfillment. You looked down at the newborn daughter, your eyes filled with love and wonder. You gently caressed the baby's soft cheek, your touch filled with a mother's tender adoration.

"I love you, sweet girl."

#house of the dragon #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daenyra #daenyra x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd

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milliesfishes · 3 months ago

Note

i know it’s been forever (a day) bc i’ve been busy being my own sugar mommy (working my summer job) but i have all the thoughts

like ttpd (the song) is giving best-friends-but-maybe-something-more reader + coryo until the games and then he’s being all cozy with lucy gray

and readers over here like i know everything about you and who you want to be, i’ve been here for you all along, if u really think that any other girl will be even half the partner i’d be then good luck babe

(who else decodes you? / who’s gonna hold you? / sometimes i wonder if you’re gonna screw this up with me? / i laughed in your face and said)

im sorry in advance for all the world vomit lmao

౨ৎ꣑ৎWho Else Decodes You?౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: injury, jealousy pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: you know coriolanus like the back of your hand, and yet he runs to another girl the first chance he gets author’s note: so sorry this took forever! I needed very specific vibes for this and I hope it's good! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Your sheets were silken, soft to the touch, but they felt better when he was lying next to you.

Opening your eyes just a hint, you reveled in the glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. Coriolanus was sprawled out next to you, remaining deep in the throes of sleep. His curls were a messy halo across his forehead just as they were every morning, and you delighted in the sight of him, knowing he'd smooth his hair as soon as he awoke.

The broad plane of his bare chest was vastly uncovered by the comforter, and you traced your finger down the bump of his ribs. The heat of his skin exuded from his body like a fire in the hearth, warming you right up just by being next to him.

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you let your hair fall to the side as you studied him like a book. If your Coryo was a genre he'd be a classic- renowned and readable if one took the time. Not many people did.

His lashes fluttered like butterfly's wings, and you shut your eyes. No need for him to know you'd been staring at him.

Shifting under you, Coriolanus made a quiet noise as he emerged from his dreams, one of his big palms rising to rest at the crown of your head. The intimate gesture was a spark in your quiet heart.

Thumb raking through your strands, his other hand settled by yours on his stomach, clasping your limp fingers in a delightful knot. At that, you allowed yourself to unfold your eyes, looking up at him in an innocent way.

Coriolanus had never been one to smile easily. His face was hardened all too often, by the survivalist ways of his life in the cutthroat world of the Capitol. But now the corners of his lips were lifting just barely upwards as his cerulean eyes drowned yours in the best possible way.

"Morning," he whispered, voice slightly raspy with the cobwebs of sleep. Coriolanus rubbed your arm and dug his nose into your hair, inhaling softly.

The mornings with him were sacred, locked away in a vault for your darkest hours. At your insistence, he stayed the night often. His trust was not an easy thing to come by, and yet you were in possession of it. You knew of his living conditions, of the Snow's maintenance of their surname's image. It was a gift how at ease he was with you. So much so that he was able to slip smoothly into unconsciousness with you right there in his arms.

Friends. Best friends. That was your title and yet you were tangled in the sheets of your bed like lovers. And you couldn't ignore the familiar flutter in your heart when he peered down at you, usually icy eyes softened.

"Can we stay here all day?" you questioned in dulcet tones, tracing a patch of his skin. "It's so cozy."

"We've got to get to the school," Coriolanus shifted, sitting up in the bed and bringing his hand to his forehead. "The Reaping-"

"Yes," you murmured, rubbing his side. Your satin-like hair was a waterfall over your shoulder as you propped yourself up on an elbow. All Coriolanus had been able to talk about was the Reaping in the past few weeks. Ever since he'd been selected as a Mentor.

It was a high honor, although it came with a heavy price. To groom a child for death as a spectacle was no easy thing. You had opted out of the selection of students poised to be mentors, personal fear and heartache for the soon-to-be victims eating at your psyche.

You were privileged in that way, you knew. Coriolanus didn't have a choice if he wanted any hope of attending the University. He was proud, your boy, refusing to accept even a penny from your family's expansive funds. Through your late father's investments, you could have paid to keep the both of you comfortable in a penthouse in the city, tuition and food the furthest of worries.

Watching him now, donning his dress pants and shirt, lacing up his too-small shoes, you wished he would let you help. The white shirt was exquisite, clandestine work by Tigris- his fashion-centric cousin. Coriolanus had a talent for making anything he wore appear regal- a byproduct of his last name no doubt.

Rising, you disappeared into the closet to find a dress appropriate for the event. Though you were not a mentor, all students at the Academy were invited to the celebration. You would have begged your way in anyways, eager to watch your best friend receive his tribute.

Rifling through the selection, you decided on a black number with thin straps, hugging your figure and flaring out subtly toward the bottom. Removing your nightdress, you tossed it over a chair and stepped into the other garment, zipping it up as high as you could.

When your fingers were unable to stretch any further, you poked your head out, calling, "Coryo? Would you help me?"

His shoes clicked on the wooden floor as he approached, one hand steadying you on your waist while you drew your sheet of hair over your shoulder. The zipper crawled up your spine as he closed the gap between fabric, reaching over to brush your hair back behind you when he finished.

The mirror positioned in the corner of the room painted a picture that passerby couldn't possibly guess the context on. Coriolanus and you cut a striking pair, making your foolish heart leap at the idea.

Squeezing your shoulder, Coriolanus left you to ponder at your reflection, digging through his school bag for something. It had been a miracle you'd been able to convince him to spend the night at all with how meticulous he was. But your honeyed musings about how he needed a good dinner and night's rest before the ceremony had won him over. Before you'd known it he'd been passed out under your blankets with a belly full of roast, lulled by the motions of your nails scratching his head.

Inside and out, you knew him, had memorized him better than any textbook passage, could unravel his tangled secrets quicker than any detective. He took your heart by storm.

Slipping your feet into your shoes, you picked up your purse and checked your recently finished makeup one last time, casting a glance at Coriolanus, who was fiddling with his curls again. You capped your lipstick with a snap, dropping the tube into your bag and turning to him. "Ready?"

When he looked at you, his oceanic eyes held a promise of storms. You reached your hand out and took his, offering the tiniest smile. "It's going to be okay."

Closing his eyes briefly, he inhaled once and gave a single nod. If you'd put your hand to his chest, the stampede of his heart under it likely would have worried you. The tendrils of hope crept between you as you tried to will your words into him.

Sticking his hand into his bag, Coriolanus withdrew twin flowers you recognized as his grandmother's precious roses- the special rooftop ones reserved for special occasions. Snapping the stems, he fixed one behind your ear, thumb featherlike. The gesture swelled your chest and warmed you from the inside out. "For me?"

"The Grandma'am insisted." There it was- that almost smile that told you the flower was coming from him too. Coriolanus steadied it in your hair, the petals brushing you like a kiss.

"Thank you," you whispered, touching your lips to his cheek. A slight flush brightened his face, and he looked away as your hands came to the one of his holding his own rose. Gently easing it out of his grip, you fastened it to his vest, taking care not to scratch his white shirt with the pin. Ironing out invisible creases with your hands, your eyes found his once again.

Friends. And yet it didn't feel like it. Not one bit. Electricity seemed to crackle in the line connecting your gazes, and you swore something flashed across his irises. The rose didn't mean nothing.

Half-dazed, you tentatively unearthed the feeling stored in a drawer stuffed to the brim with secrets. One more passionate and powerful than you were used to stood tall above the rest.

Though it was strong, it revealed itself in memories; quiet, simple things so delicate they could be gone in a blink. This feeling was rain pattering against the roof, it was flowers blooming between the cracks in the sidewalk. It was blue eyes and golden curls and a try-not-to-smile that arranged itself in a way that bloomed through the walls of your heart.

Somehow you had known what it was all along. And yet now its foretelling had come to pass.

What if he loved you too?

The Reaping was a lilted event highlighted by the revelation of Coriolanus' tribute.

District Twelve. You could have strangled the Dean lost in the throes of his beloved drug for what he'd so obviously done: set Coriolanus up for failure. From where you were sitting you could see the resignation on his face as he watched the Lucy Gray Baird in her rainbow dress part the raggedy crowd like the Red Sea.

Then she slipped a wriggling snake hidden by her hand down a girl's dress, and your attention was piqued. Bold. Maybe there was optimism yet. Coriolanus stood sharply; eyes glued to the screen as he watched his tribute dragged up the stage by stone-faced Peacekeepers. The mayor's hand struck her face, and she fell to the ground graceful as a ballerina, hair hanging over her cheeks.

And then she began to sing. Lilted as a bird's song, clear as a bell, her voice rang over the crowd, rich enough without background music. Lucy Gray's chorus needed no accompaniment.

The entire hall was entranced. Your eyes tore from the sight, instead watching Coriolanus. Even from where you were sitting you could see what you'd tried to instill in him only hours ago.

Hope.

The time following was a film reel of interconnected pictures. In later days you would recall them and only be able to see brief flashes of memory.

Coriolanus behind the bars of the Capitol Zoo's cage. Lucy Gray Baird standing tall and proud despite her forced surroundings, her rainbow dress a bright contrast to the rest of the setting. He had told you his plan to greet his tribute, but you'd had no idea of his exertions until you saw him on the evening news. Even if his Academy uniform hadn't been such a bright red, you would have known those curls anywhere.

She was stunningly lovely standing beside him- a flower of adversity if there ever was one. A flower with a song. Speaking of flowers, one of his was tucked behind her ear just as it had been with yours the morning of the Reaping.

A pang echoed in your chest at the sight of him, holding hands with her and greeting the citizens of the Capitol who'd come to gawk at the forced participants of a cruel game.

You had turned off the television at that, bringing your knees to your chest. He was just helping her. That was his job. He only wanted her to trust him in order to reach his end goal. Was it manipulative? Maybe. But it wouldn't matter if she won. It would be good for the both of them.

Coriolanus kneeling beside Lucy Gray, sharing a sandwich with her. You hung back behind the crowd, having accompanied him but not wanting to scare her away. He spoke in hushed tones to her, and you watched with a sinking heart as a smile split his face like a sunrise at something she said. A full smile.

After that, you saw him rarely. He was either at the zoo with her or at home writing things up both for the games and for school. Coriolanus used to do all his work with you by his side.

The media outlets were fond of showing him and Lucy Gray, reporting on the Snow boy and the songbird. You had tried to ask him about his affiliation with Lucy Gray, but he assured you it was pure strategy. He didn't know you loved him, though.

Coriolanus hadn't spent the night since the Reaping. The side he usually slept on grew cold. It still smelled like him, and that was a haunting thing. Whenever you asked him over he cast a net of excuses, claiming he needed to go see Lucy Gray in the morning or that the mentors had a strategy meeting.

As you stared up at him, with his eyebrows drawn taut, mouth no longer offering even a half-smile, a feeling of dread awoke in your heart.

Avoidance was your friend in the next week. The buzz of the games was impossible to ignore, and your feelings became matted in a bloody tangle. Tidying your room, you found little things he'd left behind. A pen, a spare shirt, a notebook. Opening the cover of the latter, you saw his neatly scribbled notes. For a moment you pretended it was a love letter.

It all came to a heading after the attack in the arena.

Everything was a blur after you received the news. Your feet were moving before you knew it, stumbling down the stairs. The driver on the way had to have been breaking every speeding law, but it still wasn't fast enough for you.

You didn't have any idea how you made it up to him. There was no recollection of asking someone where he was, or even a room number. But somehow you were at his side, taking his clammy hand in yours and collapsing to your knees beside his bed.

Tigris told you in a hushed way of how rebels had somehow bombed the arena, how there was a fire and rubble, and Lucy Gray had pulled him out of it. His leg had been in worse shape earlier, but it would heal soon.

A surge of gratitude shot through you. Thank heavens for Lucy Gray. Coriolanus was stirring now, his hand gripping yours as his lids revealed those oceans you'd missed so badly. And now his half-smile was back. He murmured your name and you could have burst into tears.

"You're okay," you murmured, other hand coming up to smooth curls back from his face. The way you knew he liked it.

"What happened...Lucy Gray..." he muttered, sitting up. A cold feeling of disheartenment washed over your heart. You opened your mouth to respond when the sound of music echoed from the hospital television on the wall.

There she was. The answer to his question. Lucy Gray's voice poured from the scratchy speaker, singing about a tale of lost love, paired with her guitar.

Coriolanus swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting to his feet nearly in a trance. His lips were parted, eyes fixed on her. Donations were pouring in, likely the most of any other tribute. The look on his face was of pure awe. It was as if he'd watched an angel descending.

Your heart sunk below your feet. Tears pricked your eyes as the chilling fingers of want gripped your arms, pulling you back into the shadows. He was falling for her.

It hit you like a punch to the gut, and you wanted to curl up on the floor beneath you until the ground opened and swallowed you up. Your love was a disease now that you didn't want to cure anyways. Even if you did, there wasn't one in sight.

The program ended, and Tigris excused herself, telling you both she was going to find something to eat. You sat at the chair beside Coriolanus' bed where he'd resumed his spot, despondent in the chasm of your thoughts.

She didn't know him like you did. Every hidden desire and pain of his fit into the palm of your hand, and you protected them just as he did. Time had slipped through the cracks and buried you, every shred of history with him flashing through your mind.

Walking to school together. Him coming from a particularly hard class to where you were sitting and resting his head in your lap. At your family's dinner table, trying not to overindulge. Asleep beside you, whispering that he felt safe.

You had been in front of him this entire time, holding him and loving him beyond everything. And yet here he was, running to a girl he knew so little of. Sabotaging everything you wanted to give him.

Even through all this, you couldn't find it in yourself to hate her. Lucy Gray was in the business of making it out alive. Whatever means she used to attempt a win were out of survival.

It was as if you'd pricked your finger on one of his rose's thorns. As you looked at him, you had the thought that he was drawing out of reach. Your Coryo was nearly lost to you and there was hardly anything to do.

He looked up at you, reaching for your hand. Letting him take it, you kept your eyes on his face, thoughts distant as he spoke.

"I think she has a chance," he said, voice bordering on excitement. "I think she can win. It'll all work out."

Bittersweet, you nodded, eyes falling to the floor. "You make a good pair." Every word was soft, and you avoided his eyes.

"Hey..." Coriolanus squeezed your hand, and you raised your gaze back to him. His features were drawn in a sincere way, and your demeanor lightened just slightly at the sight. "I want to get the prize. Go to the university with you. That's what this is all for."

"You look at her differently than that." Pursing your lips, you stood and let go of his hand.

Coriolanus frowned, throwing aside the covers and standing. "She might be the answer to all of this."

"That's fine," you said, turning away. "If you want her-"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, taking your elbow and forcing you to turn and face him. "I leave my things in your room. I gave you one of the roses...you're special to me, you have to know..."

"Then why have you abandoned me?" you questioned quietly, the tension between you thicker than a rope. "You're letting go."

"I'm doing all this for you," he emphasized, and your eyes widened slightly. "You..." he swallowed; mouth pulled tight. "I need you. If you ever left...I don't know what would happen."

Usually you had to comb through the depths of him eyes to find what he was feeling, but now it was right at the surface. Brimming and calling you. What he felt wasn't nothing.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Coriolanus demanded, holding you by both arms now. His words were not aggressive, but worried.

A thousand things stemmed from your core and climbed your being like vines on a stone wall in a secret garden. Fabled to act, more likely to yearn, your feelings bubbled and churned in your ocean of secret lives. Maybe once you would have poured your soul out to him, but the words were withered from lack of use.

"You weren't mine," you said weakly, leaving it at that. "Not mine to have or to lose."

Something changed in his face. He loosened the bands of his hands on your elbows, instead taking one of your hands and putting it to his heart. It beat a steady rhythm against your palm, that quiet assurance that he lived. Searching your eyes, Coriolanus breathed, "I think I've always been yours."

A myriad of scars and knotted emotions emerged in you. All these hours, all of what had seemed like tricks. And there had been something there the entire time.

You felt it right then- the connection. He was a tongue you spoke fluently, and now you were grateful for it. It sparked a fire in your soul that encased a promise echoed in his eyes.

He loved you too.

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kckt88 · 7 months ago

Text

Closer II

Summary:

Both Aemond and Lucaela deal with the concequences of their mating as certain revelations come to light.

Warning(s): Language, Angst, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex, P in V, Knotting, Marriage, Pregnancy, Child Birth, Character Death.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C LUCAELA VELARYON

INSPIRED BY - 'NINE INCH NAILS - CLOSER'

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 6623

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.

"You fool!" Otto roared, his voice echoing off the walls of his chambers. "You can't keep your damn knot in your breeches, can you? Irreversibly tying yourself to Rhaenyra's daughter, of all people!"

Aemond's jaw tensed, his own frustration mounting as he bore the brunt of his grandfather's wrath. "I never intended for this to happen, grandfather," he protested, his voice tinged with desperation. "But Lucaela-she's my mate. I couldn't deny our bond any longer."

"Your mate be damned!" Otto spat, his fists clenching at his sides. "Do you realize what you've done? You've single-handedly destroyed any chance we had of securing the throne for your brother. All because you couldn't control your urges, I thought I had to worry about your brother, not you”.

"Grandsire-“ muttered Aemond.

Otto's mind raced as he tried to salvage the remnants of his meticulously laid plans, the very foundations of which now seemed to crumble beneath his feet. With Rhaenyra and Daemon demanding that Aemond marry Lucaela, Otto saw a sliver of opportunity amidst the chaos.

"If we can't control the situation," he mused aloud, his voice heavy with frustration, "Perhaps we can manipulate it to our advantage."

Rhaenyra's attachment to her daughter was well-known, a weakness that could be exploited if handled with care. If Lucaela became a pawn in their political game, they might be able to force Rhaenyra to come to terms and bend to their will.

"Force her hand," Otto murmured to himself, his mind churning with possibilities. "Use Lucaela as leverage to ensure Rhaenyra's compliance."

The Alpha within Aemond roared in protest as he listened to his grandfather's plans for Lucaela. Deep within him, a primal instinct surged, rejecting Otto's manipulative schemes with a ferocity that matched the flames of a dragon.

"No," Aemond growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I will not allow Lucaela to be used as a pawn in your games”.

Otto's gaze hardened as he locked eyes with Aemond, his own resolve unyielding in the face of his grandson's defiance. "You are willing to risk everything," he countered, his voice laced with frustration, "Your own life, the lives of your brothers and sister, the life of your mother, all for the sake of this bond?"

Aemond squared his shoulders and shook his head, his grandsire’s words playing on a loop in his mind.

But the Alpha inside him was furious, demanding that he protect his mate.

"If Rhaenyra is crowned queen, we will all be in danger. She will see us as threats to her rule, and she will stop at nothing to eliminate us."

“Grandsire-there has to be another way“ muttered Aemond.

Otto shook his head, his expression grim. "What of the realm?" he challenged. "Do you not care about the stability of the Seven Kingdoms? Aegon is the King’s firstborn son, the crown is his by right”.

"But at what cost?" Aemond shot back, his tone fierce. "Do we sacrifice everything we hold dear in the name of political expediency? I refuse to let Lucaela suffer for our ambitions, to see her used as a pawn in a game of thrones."

“I implore you to see reason Aemond-a living contender invites challenge. We must work together to secure your brother’s succession,” said Otto.

“Not at the cost of Lucy-“

"You're being used, Aemond," declared Otto, his tone cold and unforgiving. "Can't you see? Lucaela deliberately placed herself in front of you, knowing full well you wouldn't be able to resist her scent."

Aemond's jaw clenched at the accusation, his Alpha instincts bristling with indignation. "You speak as if Lucaela is some kind of manipulative pawn," he countered, his voice sharp with defiance. "But she is my mate. Our bond is stronger than any scheme Rhaenyra could concoct."

Otto shook his head, his expression incredulous. "You only lost one eye how could you be so blind" he scoffed. "Do you honestly believe Lucaela's actions are purely out of love? She is her mother’s daughter, and she’s been raised by Daemon. You think it's a coincidence that she presented herself to you on the day of the Driftmark petition?"

Aemond's chest tightened at the implication, his mind reeling with the possibility that he had been deceived. But even as doubt crept into his thoughts, he refused to entertain the notion that Lucaela's feelings for him were anything less than genuine.

"You don't understand” he asserted, his tone firm and resolute. "Through our bond, I can feel her emotions, her feelings for me. They are genuine, I would know if they were false."

“A fools notion” scoffed Otto.

His Alpha instincts surged within him, reinforcing his conviction with a primal certainty that Otto could not hope to comprehend. "You speak of manipulation and deceit, but you underestimate the power of our connection," Aemond continued, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "I can feel her love for me. No scheme or plot could fabricate such emotion."

Otto's scepticism faltered slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing his features as he regarded his grandson. But he quickly regained his composure, his resolve unyielding in the face of Aemond's protestations.

"Feelings can be fickle, Aemond," he cautioned, his voice tinged with warning. "Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment”.

But Aemond remained steadfast, his faith in Lucaela unwavering despite the doubts cast upon their relationship. "I trust in our bond, grandsire," he declared, his voice ringing with determination. "No matter the challenges we face, I will stand by Lucaela's side”.

Otto's voice carried a solemn warning as he fixed Aemond with a steely gaze. "When the time comes, Aemond," he said, his tone grave, "You had better pray to the Seven that your bond with Lucaela will be enough to save not only your life but the lives of your siblings as well."

As he rounded a corner, Aemond's heart skipped a beat at the sight that greeted him. There she was, Lucaela, radiant and alluring as ever, standing in the company of her stepfather, Daemon. His presence sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through Aemond, the Alpha within him bristling at the sight of another Alpha in such close proximity to his mate.

For a moment, Aemond stood rooted to the spot, torn between the conflicting urges warring within him. On one hand, the desire to assert his claim over Lucaela burned fiercely within him, driving him to emphasise his dominance over any who would dare to encroach upon their bond.

But on the other hand, a voice of reason whispered in the back of his mind, reminding him of the consequences of giving in to his primal instincts.

With a deep breath, Aemond forced himself to calm, the turmoil within him subsiding slightly as he approached Lucaela and Daemon. "Lucaela," he greeted her, his voice husky with desire yet tempered with restraint. "I was hoping to find you."

Lucaela turned to him, her eyes lighting up with warmth and affection. "Aemond," she replied, a smile gracing her lips.

" I was wandering when you’d have the courage to show your face after defiling my stepdaughter” said Daemon, his hand wrapping around the pommel of Dark Sister.

Aemond's jaw clenched at the barb, his Alpha instincts bristling at the insult. "Things will be set right by our marriage," he retorted, his voice sharp with indignation.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a knowing grin. "Of course, of course," he replied, his tone oozing with insincerity. "Nothing like a hasty ceremony to make up for your indiscretions, eh?"

But before Aemond could respond, Daemon continued, his tone dripping with condescension. "I do hope your grandsire hasn’t taken the news too hard, now that you can’t be sold off to forge alliances" he taunted, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I suppose his carefully laid plans will have to be put on hold now that you've tied yourself to my stepdaughter."

Aemond's fists clenched at his sides, the Alpha within him roaring with fury at Daemon's jibes.

Just as he was about to respond, Aemond felt a surge of panic course through him, a jolt of raw emotion that cut through the haze of his thoughts like a knife. It was Lucaela, her distress echoing through their bond with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

His mind raced back to his grandfather's words, the insinuation that Lucaela had deliberately placed herself in his path, tempting him with her presence.

Could it be true? Had she orchestrated their meeting, knowing full well the effect she would have on him?

The doubt gnawed at him, a relentless whisper in the back of his mind as he struggled to make sense of the tumultuous emotions swirling within him.

“L-Lucaela” exclaimed Aemond, his hand reaching up to his mating mark that had now started to sting.

Lucaela stared at Aemond for a moment before she turned and fled, her steps quick and determined as she disappeared back inside the Red Keep. Without a moment's hesitation, he followed, his instincts driving him forward with a single-minded purpose.

"Lucaela, wait!" he called after her, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the keep. But she did not stop, her form disappearing around a corner as she continued to flee from him.

With a surge of determination, Aemond quickened his pace, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty corridors as he chased after her.

Finally, he caught up to her just outside her chambers, his chest heaving as he reached out to gently grasp her arm, turning her to face him. "Lucy, please," he pleaded, his voice filled with urgency. "Tell me what's wrong. Why did you run?"

Lucaela's eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty as she looked up at him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I-I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of their hearts.

But Aemond refused to let her push him away. "You can't or you won't?" he pressed, his voice tinged with frustration and desperation.

As Aemond searched her eyes for answers, Lucaela's resolve crumbled under the weight of his gaze. She took a shaky breath, steeling herself to confess the truth that had been weighing on her.

"Aemond," she began, her voice trembling with emotion. "Daemon found out about Otto's scheming-about your family's plans to usurp the throne and have Aegon crowned instead of my mother."

Aemond's eye widened in shock at the revelation, the implications of Daemon's discovery sinking in with a sickening sense of dread. "How?" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

Lucaela swallowed hard, her hands trembling at her sides. "Someone overheard a conversation between Otto and one of his advisors and word got back to Daemon," she confessed, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart.

“What does that have to do with me?” asked Aemond.

"After Daemon found out about Otto's plans, he knows that you and Vhagar are Otto’s biggest asset. He-he told me to place myself in front of you, to allow nature to take its course."

Aemond's eyes widened in shock, his mind reeling at the implications of her words. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.

Lucaela swallowed hard, the truth spilling from her lips like poison. "He knew that as a newly presented Omega, no unmated Alpha could resist me," she confessed, her voice shaking with shame. "He told me to use that to my advantage, to tempt you into-into succumbing to your desires."

A wave of anger surged through Aemond, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he struggled to process the betrayal that lay before him. "And you-you went along with it?" he demanded; his voice laced with accusation.

Tears welled in Lucaela's eyes as she met his gaze, her own heart breaking at the pain she had caused him. "I-I didn't know what else to do," she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. "I thought-I thought I was helping, that I was ensuring my mother’s claim”

How could you?" he demanded; his voice thick with emotion. "How could you deceive me like this, Lucy? To use our bond for your own gain, to manipulate me-“

But before he could finish his tirade, Lucaela scoffed, her own frustration boiling over at his accusations. "And what about Otto's scheming to usurp the throne?" she shot back, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Did you really think that Daemon would stand idly by while your grandsire plotted to undermine my mother’s claim?"

Aemond recoiled at the venom in her words, the truth of her accusations striking him like a blow to the chest.

"Lucaela, I-" he began, his voice faltering as he searched for the right words.

But she held up a hand, cutting him off before he could speak. "I'm not excusing what I did, Aemond," she admitted, her voice softening slightly. "But usurping the throne from the named heir, it’s wrong”.

"In order for your mother to secure her reign, she would have to eliminate any potential threats to her power. Aegon, Me even Daeron. A living contender invites challenge," he continued, his voice heavy with resignation. "And in Rhaenyra's eyes, any one of us could be seen as a threat to her rule”.

Lucaela's eyes flashed with indignation, her voice rising with anger as she countered Aemond's grim assessment. "How dare you, Aemond," she spat, her words sharp with frustration. "My mother would never harm anyone. You are her blood. You would be part of her rule as Queen, not victims of her ambition."

“Did she not demand that I be sharply questioned-to discover where I heard slanders against her bastards” snapped Aemond.

The fire in her eyes burned bright, fuelled by a fierce loyalty to her mother and a deep-seated belief in her righteousness. "Otto has dripped his poison in your ear," she accused, her voice trembling with emotion. "You've let his doubts cloud your judgment, but I refuse to let you believe such lies."

“How can I be assured that they are lies” replied Aemond.

"Aemond, please," she implored, her tone softened with earnestness. "Search our bond. Feel the truth in my words. My mother has no intention of harming you or your siblings."

Aemond hesitated, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air between them. But as he gazed into Lucaela's eyes, he saw nothing, but sincerity reflected back at him, a raw honesty that stirred something deep within his soul.

Closing his eye, Aemond reached out through their bond, searching for the truth amidst the tumult of emotions that swirled within him. And as he delved deeper, he felt a sense of clarity wash over him, a profound realization that cut through the fog of doubt and uncertainty.

Lucaela wasn't lying. Her mother, Rhaenyra, harboured no ill intentions toward him or his siblings. It was a truth that resonated deep within him, anchoring him in the certainty of their shared bond.

Aemond pressed his forehead against Lucaela's, their bond pulsing with the intensity of their shared emotions. "My grandsire told me that crowning Rhaenyra would divide the Seven Kingdoms and start a war," he murmured, his voice heavy with concern.

But Lucaela shook her head, her eyes filled with a solemn conviction. "Usurping the throne is what will start a war," she countered, her voice steady despite the turmoil that raged within her.

“I’m worried Lucy-“

“Aemond, please listen to me," she implored, her gaze pleading with him to understand. "My mother is the named heir. It is her birthright, recognized by law. To challenge her claim would only sow further discord and violence only begets more violence. If you take the throne by force, it will only lead to bloodshed and chaos."

Aemond's expression softened as he regarded Lucaela, her sincerity and wisdom shining through in her words. "But what if-“

“-The House of the Dragon needs to stand together as one. Let the realm see us united, witness our strength and unity."

She reached out to take his hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "We can show the realm that we are not divided by ambition or greed," she continued, her voice filled with conviction. "That we are bound by blood and loyalty, and that together, we are stronger than any external threat."

“I want to believe you-” whispered Aemond.

“What do you think would happen to us-to me if Aegon was crowned King? It works both ways Aemond, my life would be forfeit as would that of my mother, stepfather and brothers-Otto wouldn’t let us live” whispered Lucaela.

The Alpha inside Aemond bristled with anger at the thought of Lucaela being killed, as angry as he was at her scheming, he knew she was right.

The only thing to do was make a choice-believe his Omega and trust that her word was true, or side with his grandsire and stand on the precipice of war.

In the end it was the Alpha inside who made the choice.

"My Alpha, issa zaldrīzes," she murmured, her voice a gentle caress against his senses (My dragon).

The bond between them pulsed with a primal energy, igniting a fierce longing within Aemond's heart. The Alpha inside him roaring to life, demanding that he seek to make amends with his mate, to bridge the divide that had grown between them.

Unable to resist the pull of their bond any longer, Aemond leaned in close, his lips brushing against Lucaela's ear as he whispered his own confession. "My Omega, I need you" he breathed, his voice husky with desire and regret.

“Then take me Alpha-claim what belongs to you. Now and always” whimpered Lucaela.

Aemond suddenly lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Their kiss was rough and vicious. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

He spun Lucaela around and pressed her face against the wall, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other quickly untying the laces of his breeches.

Aemond nudged her ankle with his foot, signalling for her to open her legs wider.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Lucaela moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Not having the patience to properly prepare her, Aemond spat into his hand.

Aemond ran his hand up and down the hard length of himself, eyeing his Omega with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she bent forward for him.

He pulls aside her small clothes as he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” growls Aemond.

Lucaela can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers.

Then he withdraws from her and spins her around, lifting her into his arms, his mouth pressed against hers as he quickly thrusts back inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Lucaela.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

“P-Please Alpha-“ wailed Lucaela.

Aemond digs his fingers into the soft flesh of Lucaela’s hips, pulling her body against his as he thrusts forward, his singular eye focused on where they are joined.

His cock shining with her slick, the knot beginning to swell at the base, but he doesn’t want to finish not yet, not like this. So he withdraws from her again, making her whimper in frustration.

But Aemond ignores her as he lays her on the chaise lounge and falls to his knees.

Sliding his calloused hands up her legs, bunching the fabric of her small clothes in his hand before he rips them from her body.

“Aemond” shrieked Lucaela as Aemond’s mouth descends on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into his Omega’s dripping core with his tongue, in and out, much faster than his cock ever could.

Still gasping, Lucaela clutched at his head with one hand, her other digging into the fabric of the chaise.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Lucaela ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Aemond growled, deep in his throat; a sound that she didn’t hear very often. The vibration of his vocal cords rippled through to his tongue and Lucaela gasped; she felt every vibration keenly. Her body tensed for her peak– But Aemond pulled away from her and smirked, his chin shining with her slick.

“A-Aemond” gasped Lucaela, the tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks.

“Be a good little Omega and take what your Alpha gives you” said Aemond as he reached for the laces of her dress before he grew impatient and tore it from her body, leaving her breasts bared.

His tongue licking at the stiffened rosy peak.

“P-Please. Alpha” sobbed Lucaela as she felt his hard cock sliding against her folds.

“Hmm” growled Aemond as he wrapped his hand around his wife’s throat and sheathed himself inside her once more.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Lucaela.

He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance. He marvelled at her body. Such a beautiful, succulent thing his Omega was. Allowing him entry into the most sacred parts of her body.

Aemond began to fuck her in earnest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her throat, using her as leverage as he repeatedly plunged his cock into her cunny, over, thrilled to hear Lucaela’s moans of need echoing around their chambers.

His thrusts, brutal and unrelenting.

“Come for me, love” breathed Aemond.

Lucaela’s. screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Gods, he needed to spill his seed, to see her swollen with his pup. But he wanted to watch her ride him to completion.

So, with his cock still nestled inside her, Aemond manoeuvred himself into a sitting position with Lucaela on his lap.

“Give me another-I want you to come on my cock again” growled Aemond.

Lucaela ripped open the cotton shirt he was wearing and ran her hands over the defined muscles of his chest, her nails digging into his pale skin.

“Oh” gasped Lucaela as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on Lucaela’s hips and marvelled at his Omega as she rode him.

Lucaela dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Lucaela as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.

Lucaela’s thighs began to burn, as she felt her second peak approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Lucaela as she felt Aemond’s knot slip inside her.

“God. Lucy-my Lucy” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed inside her, collapsing against the chaise, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses. Meanwhile his Omega had collapsed against him, her face pressed into his neck.

Kings Landing was a buzz with activity. The guests were arriving, the preparations had been made and it was finally here. The day Lucaela and Aemond would stand together in the great sept and get married.

Lucaela was so nervous that she decided to skip breakfast, as she wasn’t sure that she could actually stomach food.

After bathing, Lucaela’s maids began to help her get ready. Her dark hair was brushed and twisted into elegant braids and the Valyrian steel necklace that had once been gifted to her mother by Daemon was placed around her neck.

The cool metal resting against the mating bite that already marred her pale skin.

Her wedding dress had a fitted sleeveless bodice with a modest neckline. The skirts flaring out behind her like a cloud.

As soon as the gown had been buttoned and her maiden cloak tied, there was a soft knock at the door.

It was her mother.

“You look beautiful” gasped Rhaenyra as she looked her daughter up and down.

“Thank you” replied Lucaela smiling.

“I’ve come to escort you to the sept and Daemon will walk you down the aisle”.

“D-Do I look like a bride mother?” asked Lucaela.

“You look perfect my sweet girl-but tell me is this what you truly desire?”

“Yes mother-“ replied Lucaela.

“I do not agree with Daemon’s scheming-“ said Rhaenyra as she took her daughters hand.

“It was for a purpose mother-I was always meant to marry for allegiance”.

“I hate that you have done this for me-“ replied Rhaenyra.

“I do not. You are my mother and my future Queen, I would see myself from this world if it meant you were safe” said Lucaela firmly.

“My sweet girl what a precious gift you are-“ exclaimed Rhaenyra as she pressed a series of kisses to Lucaela’s face.

“Aemond isn’t all bad mama-he makes me feel desired” whispered Lucaela blushing.

“I can see the marks of Aemond’s desire for you” quipped Rhaenyra.

“Mama” gasped Lucaela.

“Right, shall we get going. It’s almost time” said Rhaenyra brightly.

The sept was decorated beautifully, but it all paled in comparison to Aemond who was stood beside the High Septon.

He was elegantly dressed, his black tunic decorated with silver dragons and his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders. His long hair tied back in its usual half up, half down style.

The horns signalled the beginning of the ceremony and begrudgingly Lucaela took Daemon’s arm.

“You look beautiful my daughter” muttered Daemon.

“Thank you, father,” replied Lucaela.

“Be mindful Lucy-Desperate men are dangerous” whispered Daemon as he nodded towards Otto and Larys Strong who were muttering to one another.

“I had assumed that the traitors would have been dealt with already”.

“In due time-I cannot wipe out half of the Kings council, we must be vigilant and strike when the cunts least expect it” said Daemon.

“Mother must be persuaded to remain in Kings Landing, returning to Dragonstone isn’t the solution” said Lucaela softly.

“I agree” uttered Daemon.

“Thank you for escorting the bride Prince Daemon. If you would be so kind as to wait for the Princess to remove her maiden cloak” said the Septon.

Lucaela undid the ties of her maiden cloak and handed it to Daemon who nodded respectfully to the Septon and took his seat next to Rhaenyra.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” said the Septon loudly.

Aemond removed the cloak bearing the colours of house Targaryen and draped it around Lucaela’ shoulders.

Aemond then took Lucaela’ hand and smiled as the Septon tied their hands together by a ribbon.

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Now you may look upon one another and say these vows together” exclaimed the Septon.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days” said Lucaela, her lip wobbling slightly.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days” declared Aemond loudly.

“The vows have been spoken. You may kiss your bride”.

Aemond hesitated for a moment before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Lucaela’ lips.

“ñuhon” whispered Aemond as he pulled away (Mine).

The grand feast in the throne room of the Red Keep was a sight to behold, a dazzling display of opulence and extravagance befitting the union of two noble houses. The room was alive with music and laughter, the air filled with the tantalizing aroma of exotic dishes and fine wines.

Aemond and Lucaela sat side by side at the head table, their fingers intertwined as they shared stolen glances and whispered words of love. But despite the festivities that surrounded them, the Alpha inside Aemond was restless, his senses ablaze with the primal urge to claim his mate.

As the night wore on and the feast reached its crescendo, Aemond found himself increasingly unable to resist the pull of his desires. The mating bite on Lucaela's neck called to him like a siren's song, its intoxicating scent sending waves of arousal coursing through him.

Desperation clawed at Aemond's senses as he struggled to maintain his composure, the need to reclaim his Omega growing more urgent with each passing moment. But amidst the revelry of the celebration, he knew that they would need to wait until they were alone, until they could be together in the privacy of their chambers.

Suddenly Aemond’s senses sharpened, a strange scent tickling at the edges of his awareness. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but to Aemond, it was unmistakable.

Nosing Lucaela's mating mark, he inhaled deeply, his heart pounding with anticipation. And then he caught it—the faintest hint of milk, sweet and intoxicating, mingling with the scent of their bond.

With a surge of excitement, Aemond turned to Lucaela, his eyes shining with joy. "Lucy," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "You're carrying my pup."

Lucaela's eyes widened in disbelief, her hand instinctively moving to rest against her stomach. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Aemond nodded eagerly, his heart soaring with pride. "I can scent it as your Alpha, the scent of milk is unmistakable," he explained, his voice filled with excitement.

Tears welled in Lucaela's eyes as she processed the news, a radiant smile spreading across her face. "Aemond," she breathed, her voice filled with love and gratitude. "I can't believe it”

The Alpha inside Aemond surged with a primal delight, a fierce sense of pride and joy coursing through him like wildfire. To pup his sweet Omega mate was a dream he had scarcely dared to imagine.

As he gazed upon Lucaela, his heart swelled with love and adoration, his Alpha instincts urging him to protect and cherish her and their unborn pup with every fibre of his being.

With gentle caresses and tender words, Aemond showered Lucaela with affection, his touch a promise of the unwavering devotion and support he would offer her as they embarked on this new journey together.

As Aemond and Lucaela reveled in the joy of their news, their moment of intimacy was suddenly interrupted by the boisterous arrival of Aegon. With a mischievous grin, Aegon sauntered over, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Well, well, well," he declared with a playful smirk. "I think it's time you two lovebirds got a room, don't you?"

Aemond's scowl deepened at his brother's teasing, but before he could retort, Lucaela gently squeezed his hand, a knowing smile playing at her lips. With a soft chuckle, she rose to her feet, her gaze locked with his.

"Shall we, my love?" she whispered, her voice laced with laughter.

Aemond's heart swelled with affection as he returned her smile, his Alpha instincts urging him to protect and care for her above all else. With a nod, he rose to his feet, his hand entwined with Lucaela's as they made their way out of the crowded hall

-Months Later-

In the dim light of the birthing chamber, Lucaela's laboured breaths echoed against the stone walls, her grip on Aemond's hand tightening with each wave of pain.

Aemond stood by her side, his heart heavy with worry yet brimming with pride as he watched over her, offering words of comfort and encouragement with every contraction. "You're doing amazing, my love," he whispered, his voice a steady anchor amidst the storm of pain. "Just a little longer, and our pup will be in your arms."

With each passing moment, Lucaela's strength grew, her resolve unwavering as she pushed through the agony with unwavering determination. And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, their pup emerged into the world, a tiny bundle of life cradled in Lucaela's arms.

Tears welled in Aemond's eye as he beheld his newborn pup, his heart overflowing with an indescribable sense of joy and wonder. "He's beautiful," he breathed, his voice trembling with emotion.

Lucaela smiled through her exhaustion as she gazed down at their son, her fingers gently caressing his soft, newborn skin. "Aeron," she whispered, her voice filled with love as she spoke his name for the first time.

As Aeron let out his first cries, a sense of awe washed over them, a profound realization settling in their hearts. For even in his first moments of life, he emitted a scent similar to that of his father—Aeron was destined to be an Alpha.

As Aemond cradled his newborn son in his arms for the first time, his heart swelled with a love so fierce and profound that it felt as though it might burst from his chest.

"My son," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "My precious Aeron. My boy"

Tears welled in Aemond's eye as he looked upon the small, features of his son, the exact mirror of his own, his fingers gently tracing the delicate curve of his cheek. In that moment, he vowed that Aeron would always know his attention, his kindness, and his love and devotion.

"You will grow up strong and brave," he murmured, his voice a soft promise. "I will teach you to be honourable and just, to stand up for what is right and to protect those you love."

With each word, Aemond felt a sense of purpose settle within him, a determination to be the father his son deserved. For Aeron was not just his son—he was his legacy, his hope for the future, a symbol of the love and bond that he shared with Lucaela.

As the joyous celebration of new life echoed throughout the halls of the Red Keep, a solemn hush fell over the chambers of King Viserys Targaryen.

Beside him stood his loyal attendants, their faces etched with sorrow as they watched over their beloved King in his final moments.

“With a final, gentle exhale, Viserys' hand went limp, his eyes closing.

"Aemma," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he reached out through the darkness, his thoughts drifting to the wife he had lost so many years ago.

"Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen," he intoned, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of tradition. "The First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

With a graceful movement, the High Septon lowered the golden crown onto Rhaenyra's brow, the weight of it settling like a mantle of authority upon her shoulders. And as the crown gleamed in the dim light of the sept, Rhaenyra felt a sense of pride and purpose swell within her heart.

"And her Consort King, Daemon of House Targaryen," he declared, his words ringing out with solemnity. "May their union be blessed by the Seven, and may they rule with wisdom and justice for all the days of their reign."

A ripple of applause swept through the crowd as Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged a knowing glance, their hands clasped together in a silent vow of unity.

In the quiet chambers of their quarters, Aemond stood watch over his mate as she recovered from giving brith. Beside them lay their newborn son, Aeron, his tiny form cradled in the warmth of his mother's embrace.

Despite the grandeur of the occasion unfolding within the walls of the Red Keep, Aemond had made a solemn vow to remain by Lucaela's side, his protective instincts as an Alpha driving him to ensure her safety and that of their pup.

And so, as the sound of cheering crowds echoed through the castle walls, Aemond and Lucaela remained cocooned in the quiet sanctuary of their chambers, though they may have missed the pomp and pageantry of Rhaenyra's coronation, Aemond knew in his heart that their absence was a small price to pay for the precious moments they shared as a family.

But as Aemond gazed out of the window, his thoughts were consumed by the weight of uncertainty that hung heavy upon his shoulders. With Rhaenyra now crowned as Queen, the future seemed more uncertain than ever before.

Would their lives be in jeopardy under her rule, or would Lucaela's assurances of her mother's intentions hold true?

The memory of his grandfather's warnings echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. Otto Hightower's schemes had been thwarted, but the threat to their family still lingered, a dark spectre looming on the horizon.

Lucaela stirred from her slumber, her presence a comforting balm amidst the storm of his thoughts. As he turned to look at her, her eyes fluttered open, and she reached out to take his hand in hers, her touch a silent reassurance of their bond.

"Are you alright, my love?"

Aemond forced a smile, though the worry still gnawed at his heart. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice strained. "Just-thinking."

Lucaela's brow furrowed with worry as she squeezed his hand gently. "Whatever happens, we will face it together," she said, her voice filled with determination.

As Daemon sat next to his wife, his sharp eyes trained on the trio of men engaged in hushed conversation across the room. Otto Hightower, Larys Strong, Jasper Wylde, and Tyland Lannister—men whose ambitions and treachery simmered beneath the surface, threatening to undermine the fragile peace of the realm.

As Daemon's gaze met theirs, they offered him a hesitant smile, a silent acknowledgment of their unease of what the future would bring. But Daemon remained stoic, his expression unreadable as he raised his goblet of wine in a silent toast.

The time had come to confront the traitors who sought to plot against his wife, Queen Rhaenyra. With a sense of purpose coursing through his veins, Daemon wrapped his hand around the pommel of his sword, the weight of it a comforting presence at his side.

The blood of the treasonous cunts would serve as a warning to all who dared to oppose Rhaenyra's rule. With steely resolve, Daemon vowed to root out the rot that festered within their midst, to ensure that justice was served, and the realm remained united under his wife's rightful reign.

As he took another sip of wine, the taste of it bitter upon his tongue, Daemon knew that the road ahead would be fraught with peril. But with his sword in hand and his wife's reign to defend, he would stop at nothing to protect what was rightfully hers.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd smut #hotd #alpha omega

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jobean12-blog · 1 year ago

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Dark Desires

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x reader (Demon AU)

Word Count: 700

Summary: Now that he's finally found you he's never letting you go.

Author's Note: Another one for @pupandkisasaesthetics Aesthetic's challenge! Thank you bunches to beauties @sgt-seabass and @rookthorne for hosting such an awesome challenge!💕 And thank you bunches to my beautiful Ali @flordeamatista for reading this over and supporting me always!💕 Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰The moodboard is by me and the photo prompt I was given is the very top picture. I've also included it on its own at the bottom so you can get a good look!

Warnings: some angst and tension but he's soft (maybe soft!d-a-r-kish if you squint) and definitely s-e-x-y.

In the deep, dark of the woods, where the moon’s pale light struggles to pierce through the dense canopy of trees, there is a thick silence other than the rapid thumping of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears.

Your feet catch on fallen twigs and branches, your skin scraped and torn but you don’t stop running.

Unseen eyes watch from the shadows, a presence so powerful you can feel it in your bones.

You’re being hunted.

Instinct fuels your escape but it’s futile as the forest seems to shift around you, pathways twisting and turning in a disorienting dance.

As you stumble over the ground and fall to your knees you suck in a deep breath, the whisper of wind carrying strange murmurs in a language you don’t understand.

Suddenly, you feel a cool breath at your neck, your hairs standing on end and goosebumps shivering along your skin.

You turn with wide, fear filled eyes but there’s nothing but the darkness of the woods pressing ever closer.

You stand on shaky legs and step carefully toward a large tree, pressing your back to the thick bark and searching for the source of the palpable force.

A tall and broad figure emerges from the shadows, it’s silhouette only something you’ve seen in books and as it moves closer, steps measured and deliberate, you can start to see the outline of huge wings.

You squeeze your eyes shut and will the image away, digging your fingertips into the tree.

The voice, when it speaks, is a whisper against the shell of your ear, powerful in it’s seduction and dangerous in it’s temptation.

A slow and deeply satisfied smile frames sharp teeth and his breath quickens when he inhales at the soft skin of your neck.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “My perfect Angel.”

Your eyes are still closed tightly as a single tear rolls down your cheek. He lifts his thumb to tenderly brush it away.

“Open your eyes,” he says softly.

Unable to resist you do as he says.

“There,” he says, holding his saccharine smile. “Was that so hard.”

Your lips tremble as you try to find the words to speak. His thumb, still pressed to your skin, moves lower, tracing the outline of your mouth until he lightly presses against it, parting your lips.

“Don’t be afraid,” he coos, spreading expansive wings the color of twilight until you’re surrounded only by his presence. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He tilts his head invitingly and holds your gaze, the horns that crown his head, twisting upward with artistic grace, glinting in the moonlight.

Your lips part further as something moves behind him, long and sinewy but before you can decipher what it is it disappears from sight.

“Wh…who are you?” you manage to ask as you finally let your eyes wander over the rest of his features.

He inches closer, his nearness creating a complex blend of emotions and sensations, blurring the lines between fear and desire in a way you could never have imagined.

His blue eyes are mesmerizing, their intensity both powerful and imposing but yet softened by an unyielding desire. Long but strong fingers continue to ghost over your face, his touch igniting a fire under your skin that spreads through your veins.

“James. You can call me James.”

You gasp out his name when you feel something slide along your calf. It’s touch is gentle despite the power you feel and as it explores the contours of your skin with reverent curiosity you become aware of what it is.

Each caress of his tail leaves a lingering trace of tingling sensations, awakening a trail of longing that seems to coil around your very being. He slides it between your breasts, lightly tracing the curve of your neck before he loosely wraps it around the delicate column.

“What are you going to do to me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

His dark hairs falls forward, brushing your cheek as his soft lips caress your ear and his voice, like velvet, whispers promises that sink deep into the recesses of your desires.

“Everything Angel. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @late-to-the-party-81 @sebstanwhore @lookiamtrying @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @kmc1989 @littleseasiren

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #demon!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #demon!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #demon!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #demon au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #pup&kisasaestheticchallenge

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pendragora · 8 months ago

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Placing Dimensions and Eye Directions Analysis for Season 2 Posters

Disclaimer: before we go forward, I want to remind everyone that I am a random person on the Internet and this is a simple interpretation that I created using my knowledge on composition, dimension plains and perspective in drawing. If you choose to add input – please, be respectful about it, it’s an open discussion; as the creator of this take, I am not going to take any insults, hate or negativity over a simple fandom post, so be warned that I will block such on sight. If you find my ideas and analysis unpleasant for your perception of the characters – please, disengage and feel free to block me as well. Let’s all be civil :))

In this post I will talk about the placing of each team individually, towards team members and then each other. Along with that, I will be analysing characters’ poses and line of sights for each of them individually since it is telling a pretty compelling story. As a reference I will be using a merged image of all posters together in one (credits to @liv-cole for the image that I saw here and @ara-meyy for showing it to me when it first appeared on Reddit)

Let’s first take a look at Team Green and their stance:

The far back is taken up by Criston Cole and then Aegon on the Iron Throne. First and foremost, the farthest in the whole plain. He does not line up with anyone in the picture and his placement makes the most sense – in the canon of next seasons, Criston will take the position the Hand, which does put him so close to Aegon with his sword at the ready. He the final line of protection for the king, however, his eyes are not directed to the side – in the direction of Team Black.

However, he is placed slightly behind Aegon and his throne. His eyes are also looking forward at the angle that makes him look beyond the banner of Team Green and, in order, is directed at Aemond, not Team Black. The sight is not the one you would describe as of certainty. I could go off about the shot being not the most pleasant, but I could also theorise that Criston’s sight is telling us about the caution with which he could potentially treat Aemond in further seasons.

Aegon’s position on the poster is slightly closer to the viewer than Cole’s but still is further than Aemond’s or Alicent’s. His figure is quite interesting and, in all honesty, contrasting to what we saw in the sneak-peek of the second season. He looks both relaxed and tensed on the throne. The general language of the way he is seated is aloof, he is not wearing his crown, but is holding it as a window into his future. He comes off as the transition period between the man we saw in the sneak-peek and the previous season. He is tensed by his duty, by the Iron Throne, but his hedonistic nature has not left him yet.

What is most interesting is his line of sight. If we look at his eyes, they are not directed at anyone at all. They go straight throne the circle of his crown and off into the distance. He is not on the same field to look at Rhaenyra or anyone else. His look is one of absence. Being the king on the Iron Throne, he is isolated from the conflict by his posing. The reasoning for it might be 1) his transition period into an active participant of war (before Blood and Cheese), 2) his present reluctance to be in this conflict that was established in previous season or 3) mostly his absence in the season after his character goes through dragon fire. Perhaps, we would see more of his struggles as the king and, if lucky, even the progression from an unwilling heir to the king that takes charge and makes decisions.

Interestingly enough, his line of sight goes beyond all of Team Green members and out the frame before it reaches Team Black members. If it is not his future he is looking at, it is like a prison cell’s window at the freedom he could have, perhaps?

Next comes Aemond, who is in the most front of the picture. What’s important to note here, his figure is the closes to the viewer and is actually on the same dimension field as Rhaenyra. He is stood between her and Aegon which makes sense since Aemond will be a driving force of the war (which also affected the number of episodes we will see him in). He is not the focus of the conflict, but he is the line of defence for his family and a force to reckon with. His hand is above the hilt of the sword, he is at the ready to draw it and, unlike Criston, his stance is not cautious but confident. He also has his lip corners up in the poster, enjoying the thrill of war, the hold of power that he has.

His line of sight is directed straight into Rhaenyra’s face, not anyone else. She is his primary concern or, perhaps, a target, because she is the main threat to his family and his brother’s ruling. Among his team, he looks like the most natural and merged into his role of protector. Note that this does not oppose Aemond and Rhaenyra, and, if it does, it is a one-sided conflict in which Aemond is involved while Rhaenyra is not an active participant.

The last in Team Green and the closest to Team Black is Alicent.

It is clear why she is stood in front of everyone in the team, but she is much further in the background. The placing of her dimension makes her stand a layer above Aegon but two layers deeper than Aemond. She looks reserved and worried, and such placing shows that she is not Rhaenyra’s main opposition. She, as was shown in the previous season, would stand in front of her kids to protect them, which places her front-line in team’s order, but it is no longer her conflict, no longer a rivalry between her and Rhaenyra. Unlike the book version, show!Alicent is not the mastermind, but a scared and devoted to her cause mother, and when the time comes for war – she gives way to her children (being placed in the background) but still shows that she is present and protective of them (being the first in line).

Her eyes are terrified and teary, looking at Rhaenyra. It shows very well her stance in the show, that her motivation was the fear for the life of her children before Rhaenyra.

Now off to the Team Black.

Since we are going from left to right, I’m going to start with Rhaenyra, who is also the representative of Team Black.

Surprisingly so, her and Alicent have similar poses, but the position translates a different message. While Alicent is one of resolve and acceptance of her position in the background, Rhaenyra’s pose is showing her leadership. She is showing herself as the queen in this poster and, it is really hard to miss, but in a way her stance reminds me of 8th season Daenerys (I personally dislike the parallels because I think Rhaenyra would be better off as a stand-alone character, but hype train is a hype train).

She stands tall, she wears her crown, she is dressed as a ruler and as a dragonrider. What is interesting, though, is that her line of sight is directed forward. Since she is on the same plain as Aemond, they both are the closest to the viewer and share dimension, she is not looking at him. She is looking forward, past him. My ideas for this are 1) she is looking at the Iron Throne in the background, not even Aegon, but the throne itself; 2) she is looking into the future, since, in Western culture, the idea of looking forward is associated with the future. Her sight shows determination and readiness for battle or her looking forward for her victory. The entirety of Rhaenyra shows here that she is the rightful heir in her own eyes and she is going to take what is hers.

The idea that her sight goes through both Aemond and Aegon and ignores them, in a way, reinforces the narrative that they are irrelevant to her, they are not the threat and, because of that, be the things the other way, she would not have them executed because they simply do not matter to her this much. It is not a battle between her and her siblings here or her and Alicent, but it is a story about her battle for the throne, as it seems.

What also caught my attention is that both Daemon and Alicent stand distant from Rhaenyra, practically within the same distance from each of her sides. It is purely my take here, but perhaps it is showing the relationship that she lost or is going to lose (given the rift that awaits her and Daemon?).

Now moving along to Daemon. Personally, I expected him to placed closer to his queen, given the establishment of their relationships, but in the poster, he is one a layer deeper into the background than she is. His overall posture of, not protectiveness towards his queen, but rather protectiveness of himself gives mixed signals as if it is not him being Rhaenyra’s shield, but her being his. Given what happens in canon between them, it might be foreshadowing.

However, what drives the point is his line of sight. He is looking up and forward, and, unfortunately, the way he is placed behind Rhaenyra makes it seem that his eyes are directed not at her, but at the crown. His general expression is not of a man that is preparing to protect his loved one, but one of a man who is scheming a way out for himself, there is a fleeting concern and calculation in the way he looks. For the sake of not hurting anyone’s feelings, it is purely my take and my reading of his character in the poster, take me as biased.

Daemon is ready to strike, but strike who?

Following figure is Rhaenys.

Rhaenys has a reserved pose and a look that is peeking at someone or something. Given the background from the show, there isn’t much to say about her in the poster. She strikes me as an unwilling participant of the war, but a participant that is going to do her bidding and show her strength. Rhaenys stands tall, truly like the Queen Who Never Was, and her stance shows that she will be a force to reckon with too, considering she is a dragonrider and a skilled one at that.

Her eyesight can indicate two things: she is looking forward, with a tilt of her head, which potentially places Alicent at her line of sight. It makes sense in a way given their confrontation in two instances in a previous episode. It feels as if she, as a mother who lost both of her children, asks her how far she is willing to go to protect who’s dear to her. It feels like in this there is a conflict of two mothers that is established: the mother that lost everything and now fights for what is left of her children (since Baela and Rhaena are indirectly pulled into the war as well) and the mother that will lose everything in the future. Alternatively, Rhaenys could be looking at Aegon and the Iron Throne, but at this point of her development as a character, that makes little to no sense.

Lastly, Corlys. Just like Aegon, he looks isolated from the conflict, but for different reasons. Initially, I had a thought that he was looking forward, and, considering that he takes place further in the background than anyone on Team Black, he could be looking at Aegon and the Iron Throne, but upon close inspection I concluded that Corlys is most likely looking outside the window. It perhaps is foreshadowing for him later on searching a way out of the conflict or out of the list of Rhaenyra’s supporters.

Now, to the parallels between the characters.

Aegon and Corlys are literally the last men standing of both their teams – both on the poster and in canon. They will be the last surviving men of their respected teams, having only Alicent outlive them both.

Daemon and Aemond being opposed only by their placement as the second from the centre of the poster – perhaps, a foreshadowing for a battle that they will clash in; Aemond is looking forward and, like in canon, anticipates the fight and goes in confidently while Daemon is looking out for himself specifically and does not acknowledge Aemond as a threat for himself.

Rhaenys and Alicent – a conflict between two mothers that already lost everything or will lose everything, the Queen Who Never Was and the Queen in Chains, both trapped in this conflict because of their children or what is left of them (grandchildren).

Aegon and Rhaenyra and the way they treat their role – Rhaenyra merging into her role as a queen and wearing her crown proudly while Aegon looks through in as if a window outside his prison.

Overall, the teams display different attitude.

Team Green looks like a well-established line of defence around Aegon: his Hand is by his side; his brother is the main force of protection and then his mother who would sacrifice herself to save him. Their placement is to protect Aegon from the threat of Team Black.

Team Black appears, to say the least, not as the protection for Rhaenyra, but people who hide behind her, which surprised me. It looks rather fickle, with Daemon and Corlys being anywhere but present to protect their queen. They also form a perfect line from the back to the centre that shows that it is not only Rhaenyra’s fight, but it is also not them fearing Team Green, but having a goal to get back the Iron Throne.

#hotd season 2 #hotd season 2 posters #hotd critical #team green #team black #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #corlys velaryon #criston cole #rhaenys the queen who never was #rhaenys targaryen #poster analysis #house of the dragon #hotd meta #lena goes off

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zevrra · 2 months ago

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Hello! I was hoping to request something for Gaara with his wife reader? Like them making up from their first real argument and it gets NSFW?

needy—

tags: suggestive content, 18(+), slight nsfw, naruto, gaara x fem!reader, short & sweet, anon request

creator notes: sorry this is for one, so short! and for two, sorry it took me a little while to respond/finish! i started writing it and was several paragraphs in before i realized i was writing something else completely unrelated to your request so i had to start over aaaaa!!!! so so sorry about that but i hope you enjoy! thanks for requesting!

It didn’t take a genius to figure out he had been avoiding you. Anytime you’d reach for his hand, he’d pull away just far enough so you didn’t touch him. And when he did let you touch him, during any moment of intimacy, he broke all of it off after mere moments. Claiming he was tired and needed to go to bed early for some meeting in the morning.

You had been married to Gaara for a year or so now so it wasn’t as if you two were teenagers sneaking around anymore. It was frustrating but mostly strange to you. His actions made you second guess yourself. What if he was rethinking your relationship? What if he was falling out of love for you? So many emotions and thoughts ran through your head on the daily but today you were getting answers. Even if it was going to be a hard pill to swallow you had to know what was being done wrong.

And as soon as he got home from his work that day, you confronted him.

“Welcome home. We need to talk,” You say, trying your best to put on a brave face and voice.

Gaara looks at you with his usual gentle face. He’s hesitant for a moment, as if he knows what is coming, before he settles into a chair at the kitchen table.

“What’s been going on recently?” You ask. His eyes avoid you. Shame written on his face.

“It’s nothing,” Gaara whispers. His colder tone makes your gut twist.

“Nothing?” You scoff. “I think avoiding me for as many days as you have been isn’t ‘nothing’.” You mutter, irritated.

Silence falls between you two. Which is not unusual but this silence is painful. Thick and suffocating. Not the usual calming, healing silence you two share. This silence made your heart race far too fast.

“Is it me?” You ask in the coldest tone you can muster. “Have I done something wrong? Am I not enough?” You speak harsh words. Yet they’re the words that have haunted the back of your thoughts for days now. Souring the image of yourself inside and out.

Gaara jerks at the words. He looks at you in pure disbelief as if he can’t understand what you mean. “No-“

He tries to stop you but the floodgates have already opened. All of your feelings and your thoughts pour out of your mouth like rainwater. Tears fall when you try your best to will them away but it doesn’t help. You sob into your hands as Gaara moves to your side.

He’s no longer hesitant as he wraps his arms around you. Lifts you into his chest in a warm embrace. Hugs you so gently it makes you hiccup.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles into your hair. Apologizing like his life depended on it. He smooths loose strands of your hair away from your face. Wipes the tears from your cheeks and eyelids. All while he kisses the crown of your head. It was more affection you’ve received from him in weeks and it damn near broke your heart all over again. “I’m so sorry.”

You quiet your sobs. Breathing in deep in the hopeful comfort of your husband’s arms. One of his hands moves to clasp at your neck, using a finger against your jaw to lift your gaze to his.

“It’s not you.” He whispers. A kiss is placed on your forehead. “You’re amazing. Truly perfect, my dear.” He adds with a quiet chuckle. His thumbs swipe across your cheeks to collect whatever trail was left behind by your tears.

You sniffle. You must look like a horrible mess right now but it doesn’t stop him from kissing you. As if a fire has broken out inside of him, he kisses you with every ounce of passion he’s ever had. Tears threaten to spill once again at the first kiss you’ve two have shared in such a long time but he pulls away before that can happen.

“I want you so bad.” Gaara admits with a shy look on his face. His thumb swipes across your bottom lip. “From the moment I wake up, I want you more than anything,” He whispers under his breath as he soothes circles into your skin. Touching you so delicately like you might disappear. “It scares me how badly I want you. And I’m…just nervous my feelings will run wild and I’ll end up—hurting you.” He mumbles, glancing away from your gaze.

You suddenly realize he means the sentient sand that is always at his disposal. Sand that acted on its own sometimes and he was so worried about it hurting you he tried to keep his distance. All because of his love for you.

Your own emotions overcome you as you kiss him in response. Arms wrapping around his neck with ease as his own wrap around your waist. And now he holds onto you for dear life. Touching every inch of your skin he has so desperately craved but had been so hesitant to reach for. All while kissing you like it might be the last time. Passionate, eager, and hungry.

You two had some catching up to do.

“To bed?” You mouth against his lips between kisses.

He breaks ever so slightly, a red blush to match his hair spreads across his face. “Are you sure?” He responds. Shy even as his hands, body, and soul yearns to devour you.

God you loved him.

“Oh, I’m more than sure.” You whisper, capturing his lips once more.

Without another word, Gaara is pushing you along to your shared bedroom. Eager to make up for his wrongdoings by giving you enough pleasure to make you forget every negative feeling you've ever imagined.

#zevrra zevrra!#zevrra replies #slightly suggestive #anon reply #anon request #naruto #gaara x reader #gaara #gaara of the sand #gaara of the desert #female reader #fem!reader #also sorry this is kinda bad i lost muse for it after having to rewrite it im so sorry jshskshjshs #please forgive meeeee!

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five-miles-over · 1 year ago

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Tom Hiddleston Characters: How They Would Propose (To You)

(Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or images. This is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone. As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Thank you, and without any further ado, please enjoy!)

Characters in this list: Will Ransome, King Henry V, Prince Loki Odinson, Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim, Bill Hazeldine, Coriolanus, Jonathan Pine, Robert Laing, Magnus Martinsson, Oakley, Thomas Sharpe, James Conrad, and Jaguar Villain! Tom Hiddleston.

Also, my sincerest apologies - they all turned into mini-fics.

Will Ransome from The Essex Serpent

Reverend Will would propose to you after a Sunday roast dinner, after your family invited him to your home. You were helping to clear the table with the rest of the ladies in your family when Will coughed to announce his presence. At once, everyone cleared the dining room, leaving you alone with the vicar.

"A word please?" He politely called you by name, his hands clasped in front of him. Will sat you down in one of the empty chairs. Gods how he wanted to reach out and tuck one of your stray hairs behind your ear in that very moment, one of the intimate things that he longed to do with you. Intimate things that would be proper in the eyes of God if you were his lawfully wedded wife. He did not sit down, and gently began talking to you. "For some time, I have been charmed by you. Not just your looks, that is not to say that you are not a lovely woman. You are most lovely, but I have also been charmed by your kindness, your humility, and your…virtue."

Will knelt before you, looking up with the most earnest gaze. "If you will bestow upon me the fortune of being your husband, then in return I shall do everything to keep you safe and comfortable. I shall speak to your father, and we will be wedded in holy matrimony. You and I shall walk together upon this path of life, and I have no doubt that a virtuous woman like you will aid me in carrying out what the Lord decrees of us. My sweetest, please say that you will marry me."

Henry V from The Hollow Crown

With Henry, there was not much of a proposal to begin with. The marriage between you and the King of England was arranged by your father and his men, along with the king and his men. Still, Henry coaxed your father into having at least one private audience with you before the wedding ceremonies, so that he may properly court you as any suitor would.

'My dearest lady," Henry began as soon as he was alone with you in his study while your father and his men stood vigil outside. "Lower thy veil, and let me behold your face." He reached forward and removed the hood of your cloak, smiling as he beheld your beauty for the first time. "Cheeks rosier than the flowers that bloom in springtime. Your lips and eyes are so enticing, they call to me like sirens. Yours is a face that I shall never tire of seeing.

I confess to you, my lady, that words are not my greatest strength. Were it so easy that I could simply strap on armor or fire an arrow into a target or vault into my saddle for a wife, I should quickly vault for a wife. Alas, tis not so. For a woman's heart is truly one of the most difficult conquests to embark upon. Nevertheless, tis a conquest that I shall duly pursue if you can deign to love me.

If you can love such a man as me, someone whose words are not their strongest suit and someone whose fidelity to you is true, then take me. Take a soldier, and in taking a soldier, you will take a king." Henry knelt before you and offered you his hand. "Sweetest of all maidens, canst thou love me?"

Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard

"I have called you to discuss a matter of great importance, my lady." Loki enunciated the formal title at the end in an attempt to conceal the butterflies in his stomach. He summoned you to the palace gardens at the house before twilight, when the sky would be decorated with streaks of orange and pink. You walked alongside him through the bushes and the groves of flowers. Loki clasped his hands behind her back, walking as if he ruled every inch of earth on which he stepped.

He continued, "Yes, tis true that Thor, my brother, is the one whom my father has decreed to ascend the throne of Asgard," The younger prince of Asgard looked forward with a solemn expression while you listened with intrigue. "But he is incompetent." Loki turned to you. "He is idiotic and brash. You know as well as I do that he does not encompass the values of a king.

"Was he not the one who wished to invade Jotunheim alone, my prince?" You stopped in your tracks, just as the sun began setting into the horizon behind you.

"Yes, he was. It was all his idea, my lady." Loki did not bother to include his role in instigating Thor, it would not help him in this moment whatsoever. If he delayed this moment any further, he was convinced the words would be stuck in his throat, forever unable to escape. "You are one of the few people with whom I can share these thoughts, my lady." He sighed, his gaze fixated upon you and your beauty. "It is why I have called you here. In the coming future, I will need to protect Asgard from my brother's foolishness. And for that I should like to have a worthy companion by my side."

Loki conjured a shining dagger with a gold hilt out of thin air and promptly fell to one knee before you. The hilt of the dagger was engraved with the words, 'Min hærr, duonningen av mitt hjerte' (My beloved, Queen of my heart) Still on bended knee, Loki looked up at you with an expression of innocence that you never knew existed within him - wide eyes, baited breath, a meek expression. As if all his life were being wagered on a single thing right now.

"I wish to make you my wife," Loki declared, his lips trembling. "Should you accept, I will bring my proposal to your family, and then we will be wed with due ceremony. And if you decide otherwise, then I shall…" he swallowed, "I shall respect your choice."

Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim from the Marvel Cinematic Universe

"This looks like something stolen from the Graham Norton Show." You raised an eyebrow when Loki handed you an orange and purple card.

"It's a scavenger hunt." Loki said with a twinkle in his eye. "Every clue leads you to the next one."

"I know how a scavenger hunt works, Loki." You rolled your eyes and flipped over the card. "Was this your idea, or is this some ridiculous team-bonding activity put together by Steve Rogers?"

"No. You see,…I have some errands to do, but at the same time, I have an obligatory excursion with the Lady Valkyrie."

You crossed your arms. "So why the scavenger hunt?"

Loki brightly answered. "Well, it makes the errands all the more fun!"

"Alright, but you owe me, Loki."

"Good girl." The God of Mischief kissed you not the cheek and disappeared into thin air.

You glanced down and saw that the first card, which told you to pick up six cupcakes ordered under Loki's name. The cupcakes were from a specific café….that just so happened to be the place where you and Loki had your first date, which was set up by a far-too-enthusiastic Thor. The moment you got there, a waiter brought you a "complimentary" cupcake of your favorite flavor…along with another orange and purple card.

The second card took you to the library, on the pretext of picking up a book that was on hold for Loki. There, the librarian handed you the book - Divine Comedy by Dante - and another book that you recognized. It was Pride and Prejudice, one of the first pieces of "Midgardian literature" that you introduced to Loki, a book that you were all too happy to fangirl over. But inside the book was - yes- another orange and purple card.

The third card sent you to pick up Loki's dry-cleaning. (Really, Loki? Dry cleaning?) At the dry-cleaners, the person at the register handed you a transparent garment bag containing a black tuxedo with a ruffled white shirt. And then you were given a second garment bag with an emerald green gown embellished with diamonds. You couldn't help but stare a few moments at the pretty, expensive-looking gown. Before the person at the register could hand you another card, you made a mental note to ask Loki about the gown and whom it was for. You guessed it was probably for himself for the times he was feeling fabulous. Actually, Loki also liked to wear absolutely nothing when he was feeling his most fabulous…but that didn't matter right now.

The fourth card took you to the park where Loki confessed his love for you for the first time, on the pretext of picking up Loki's forgotten jacket and buying a bouquet of white flowers.

The fifth card took you across the city just to get a particular bottle of liquor that Loki had liked. Okay, now this guy was having a little too much fun with you right now.

You were relieved when the sixth card, given to you by the liquor store clerk, led you back to the Avengers compound, to the same room where you began this entire scavenger hunt. You huffed a little, setting the box of cupcakes, the books, the two garment bags, Loki's jacket, the flowers, and liquor gently on a table. "Loki? Loki, where are you?"

Loki stood in the middle of the Avengers' common room, wearing polished gold armor over a black and green leather tunic with long, dark trousers. His hair was combed perfectly in place, and his hands clasped behind his back. He stood surrounded by a few candles and fairy lights hanging against the curtains.

"Okay, I need answers…" You sighed, already tired from running around all afternoon. "Loki, I got your things, just tell me what the gown is for and the…the liquor and the…Are you throwing a party or something?"

"I'm getting married."

"What?!" You gulped, reaching for the nearest couch. "I…what? You're getting married, why didn't you tell me? And…" You felt your head start to spin, preparing yourself for the worst. Whatever happened to all the times he said he loved you? Was he just using you to put together some kind of romantic gesture for someone else, just a tool?! Perhaps this is what you get for letting the God of Mischief into your life. Betrayal. "Well, I hope they make you happy, Loki." You relented, putting your head in your hands.

"She does."

"Good." You murmured, trying your best not to cry in this moment. That was the last thing you wanted him to see. "Is that gown for her too?"

"Hm-hm. Of course, it'll probably end up on the floor after the engagement party, hehe."

"Loki, I am in no mood for your jokes right now." After a few moments, you looked up.

"Come on,…have a sense of humor."

"NO!" You yelled, getting up from the couch. "No, I will not have a sense of humor right now! You used me! You used me, and lied to me. You told me to do all of these errands, like picking up dry cleaning, and buying liquor, without telling me that you were going to propose to someone else! You could have at least told me, just so I'd have some kind of closure. But no, you couldn't even think to do that. You told me it was a scavenger hunt, like I wasn't worth knowing the truth.

I...I did this because I care about you, Loki! I care about you like some kind of idiot who actually thought that you might like me the same way that I liked you. That right there, making me like you might just be the worst thing you have ever done me." You took a moment to breathe, and ran your hands through your hair.

"Ugh…And you made me even pick up her engagement dress! What kind of person makes someone do that?!" You couldn't even think about the words you were spitting out, too busy with the hot tears clouding your vision.

"The kind of person who knows how good it'll look when you wear it."

"What?!" You were taken aback all of a sudden.

Loki approached you with a hint of nervousness. "Darling, you are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I know I'm not easy to be with, that I drive you mad sometimes, and I make you put up with a lot. I...I should've practiced this more." He laughed under his breath. "Why didn't I?" Blinking, he pushed his hair back before continuing.

"What I'm trying to say is,...my life has never been the same since I met you. You're the most steadfast ally, a wonderful friend, and best of all, you are the most passionate and loyal person I have ever known. I could never imagine my life without you, and I never want to. That's how much I love you."

The God of Mischief fell to one knee, and held up a small emerald ring with a gold band.

"Will you marry me?"

Bil Hazeldine from Suburban Shootout

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise, sweetheart." Bill pulled his father's car into a driveway, and took your hand. "Just close your eyes, alright?"

"Alright…" After a few steps, you could hear Bill opening a door and the sound of a shopkeeper's bell, along with the muted conversations of various patrons. The scents of vanilla and grease reached you almost immediately.

Bill held you close and whispered that you could open your eyes now.

When you opened your eyes, you laughed a little. "We haven't been here in a while…"

"You remember it?"

"How could I ever forget?" You kissed him on the cheek, and let him find a table for you.

Bill's proposal began with him taking you to the milkshake diner where the two of you had your first date. After a bit of small talk over a banana split, Bill not-so-discretely excused himself. While you sat at the table with your spoon and checked your phone, Bill made his way to the jukebox with his hands in his jeans' pockets, feeling the small box inside. He'd almost thought about wearing a suit for this occasion, but his mum said it would make you suspicious. And his father suggested hiding the ring inside your ice cream to be more romantic , but Bill was terrified by the idea of you accidentally choking. Yes, keeping the ring with him was a better idea.

Bill took a deep breath and slipped a coin into the jukebox, flipping through the various tracks to find one of the songs you enjoyed. When he found one, he pressed play and called your name. Bill extended his hand out, offering to dance with you. He twirled you, and the two of you swayed in time with the music, smiling all the while. At the end of the song, Bill proudly kissed you on the lips.

He gently said your name, and pushed a bit of hair out of your face. "You're the one I want to dance with to every song…There's just no one like you, no one I could ever dream of that's just as wonderful as you are." Bill reached in his pocket for the small box, and fell to one knee, not caring who might be watching you in the diner. Inside the small box was a 0.3-carat diamond ring with a silver band. "Would you make me the happiest man in the whole world, and marry me?"

Caius Martius Coriolanus from Coriolanus

Coriolanus invited your family to dine with him and his mother one night on the pretext of an important matter concerning two important families of Roman nobility. It was not the first time he'd done such a thing, inviting your family to break bread with him and his mother. He had even visited your father's home before, sharing wine with your father and your brothers from time to time. It was through those meetings that Coriolanus fell more in love with your smile, the way you bit your lip when you were thinking,…and even the way your laugh infected him like a plague. And if there was anything more deadly to him than your simple, unadulterated laughter, then it was your beauty which had him fighting the urge to smile whenever you walked into a room or whenever he heard your voice.

But despite his best efforts, it became quickly aware to everyone in your family how besotted the general was with you. The way his head unintentionally bowed whenever he was in your presence, as if you were the sun and he would go blind if he looked you straight in the eye, never went unnoticed. The fact that you were the only person who could make him laugh, and that the simple mention of your name was enough to make the powerful General and conqueror of Corioles lower his usual barking voice made your family - and anyone else in the general's presence - giggle under their breath.

So when everyone had finished the prima mensa, Coriolanus stood up and raised his cup. "I have called you here tonight, to make a proposition," he declares with the same voice that he would use to speak to the Senate. "An alliance between our families…" The general turned his gaze to you for a moment, and exhaled to calm his racing heart, which only quickened when you looked back up at him. "If you will bestow upon me this honor, I wish to make your daughter…my wife. She is virtuous, and kind,…endowed with a noble background."

He waved for two of the servants of his household to present your mother and father with gifts of imported silk and valuable coins. And for you, the general had his servant gift place a set of golden jewelry - a girdle, five bracelets, and a layered necklace with rubies - in your lap. Underneath the girdle was a small piece of parchment with the words,

"I long to see you wearing these on our wedding night, my lady. Only these."

You turned red, and looked up and the general, politely expressing your thanks.

"Should you accept," Coriolanus gave you a nod and turned to your family. "We shall make our alliance official in the presence of the gods. Your daughter shall be my wife, and I her husband. I will defend her from harm and protect her, as I have defended Rome time and time again. Your daughter will be cared for, and all I ask for in return, is your fidelity. Pledge to me your allegiance, for I shall need your influence when the time comes for the elections in the Senate.

Instead of a dowry give me your loyalty, and I swear that your priceless gem of a daughter will want for nothing for as long as I live. Do I have your word?"

Oakley from Unrelated

"Let's get married." Oakley off-handedly said while the two of you stood outside, leaning against the wall while he smoked a cigarette.

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding?"

"No." He took another drag of his cigarette and turned to you with his ocean blue eyes and tousled, dirty blond curls. "We should get married."

"Who are you and what have you done with Oakley?"

"What, you don't think I'm good enough to marry you?" He protested.

Shaking your head, you laughed. "No, it's not that…"

"Well, then what is it?" Oakley crossed his arms and furrowed his brow at the sight of you laughing. "We have fun together, we make each other laugh,…we look good together, especially when naked-"

That was enough for you to playfully hit him on the shoulder, causing him to chuckle. He continued, "We like each other. We have this great relationship."

"But are you sure this is what you want?" You asked. "Don't you want to explore, try things? Do stuff before you're tied down?"

"Why would I do that? When there's this…beautiful, funny, smart, and sexy girl right there with me, I'm not even looking at anyone else." Oakley simply countered. "I like what we have, and i don't want to let it go. We can travel, explore the world, and I'll do it all with you." There was no sign of hesitation in his voice, but maybe it was just the cigarette fueling his courage. He came closer to you, and looked dead serious. "I don't want what we have to be just something we try for as long as we can, something we leave up to chance. I want forever with you."

"Forever?"

"Forever." Oakley knelt before you, his eyes going from a vivid cyan to a soft, almost pale bag blue. "I don't have a ring but…" He removed his necklace and presented it to you like an offering at an altar, calling your name. "Marry me."

Jonathan Pine from The Night Manager

Jonathan had been working with MI-6 for almost two years, embarking on various mission for them after he gained acclamation for helping to carry out Operation Limpet. He, along with officer Angela Burr, took down the infamous arms dealer Richard Roper once and for all.

Since then, Jonathan found himself a new home in London and got back in touch with you, the one who stole his heart back when he was still working as a night manager. He didn't know how much he truly missed you until you answered his letter, telling him about the twists and turns your life had taken since your last encounter with Pine. After about three weeks of exchanging handwritten letters - simply because they reminded you both of a simpler time and felt more personal - with Jonathan using a pseudonym to protect you, he invited you to visit London for a holiday.

And those five days you spent in London were some of the best five days of Jonathan's life. He delighted in your innocence, the way you happily took his arm and strolled through the city, randomly surprising him with kisses. Arm in arm, without a care in the world except for each other, enjoying all that life would have to offer…This is how it should be, Jonathan thought to himself as he gazed at the sparkle in your eyes, the color in your cheeks. He listened as you talked about everything you liked about London, everything that disgusted you, and everything you hoped for in the future, simply taking in the opportunity to just be with you.

After a few moments, you asked him about what he wanted in the future, and all Jonathan had to say was one word.

"You."

You looked up from your cup of tea. "Me?"

He took a breath. "Yes." Jonathan affectionately said your name, and reached for your hand. "I never grew up in a house with both parents, doting on me." He told you about how his life up until joining MI-6 was an abominable quest for order. How his time in the military and working in the hotel business was part of an aim to find a direction in his life, and how little happiness it truly brought him. How alone he felt whenever his life wasn't being threatened.

Jonathan sighed, not used to telling so much about himself in a single conversation, laying his heart out on the table to be cut into and devoured. "I promised myself that I would find the one person that I could care deeply for, and love them. I promised myself that I would make friends, find a home…a place to belong. Maybe someday become a parent."

You looked upon him lovingly. "That's beautiful, Jonathan."

He raised your hand to his lips and kissed it. "I want all of those things, and I want them with you." Jonathan declared, quiet enough for the two of you to hear. "These past days with you have been…incredible. When I look at you, I see everything that I have wanted, the life that I want to be living five years from now, ten years from now."

He continued, "You make me believe in a future that's worth building. The way you smile…, the way you look upon me and everyone with stars in your eyes…I want to be the one who keeps that smile on your face, the one who makes you laugh. I want to be the one who kisses you good night, and the first one you see in the morning. I want to be the one you come home to every evening, the shoulder you lean on."

Jonathan stroked the back of your hand with his calloused thumb. "I know it's soon, but if there is anything that I've learned, it's that when you see something worth keeping in your life, you do everything you can not to let her go. You just do it." He looked into your eyes. "Marry me?"

James Conrad from Kong: Skull Island

It was the third time this week James had a nightmare. After thrashing and groaning, fighting an invisible beast, James found it in himself to call you - his neighbor whom he'd been dating for two years - on the telephone. His forehead and his chest were dripping with sweat, his expression one of agony, when you approached his bed. It was obvious that he had been in a lot of pain.

James wasn't the type of person who wanted to expound upon the terrors he was feeling; he was a man of action who preferred expressing his emotions nonverbally. So, you respected that and simply talked about mundane things, things about civilian life that would temporarily distract James. As you both fell asleep, you made a mental note to remind James setting another appointment with his therapist, the one MONARCH had prescribed for him.

You woke up to an empty bed. It wasn't unusual for James to go out on an early morning walk to be alone with his thoughts. It was one of the things he'd learned from his therapist when he asked about how to be a better sweetheart to you while recovering from his trauma. You washed your face and brushed your teeth with a heavy heart, hoping it wouldn't be too long before you saw James again.

While you styled your hair, you heard the door unlock. James walked inside, carrying a bag of breakfast pastries. "Good morning." He greeted you in a low, casual voice.

"Good morning…" You would've asked if he slept well, but given the events of last night, that question made no sense. "I'm sorry I stayed over."

"No need to apologize." James set the pastries down and placed a kettle on the stove. While the water rose to a boil, James unwrapped the two chocolate croissants he bought, and glanced up to find you standing in the kitchen. You walked up to him slowly, and without missing a beat, James gently kissed you with an arm gently holding your waist. He murmured your name again, his breath warm against your lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

James gave you a chaste kiss on your forehead before going into his bedroom. "I brought breakfast for us both. Should I make us some eggs?"

"No need…" You watched James open one of his drawers. "Before I forget, do you want to make an appointment with your therapist?"

"Uh, I will." James returned to the kitchen with a small box in his right hand. "Thanks for reminding me."

"What is that?"

James took a deep breath. "Just something to thank you for last night,…and for everything you've done."

"James, you really didn't have to-"

"No. I've been wanting to do this for a year, it's time."

Your breath caught in your throat as James opened the box to reveal a small, simple sapphire ring. He began, "I should've done this sooner, and I'm a fool for not doing so." James fell to one knee, and you gasped. "Darling,…Over the years I've known you, you have helped me…become a man again. You've remained by my side as I've made attempts to return to civilian life. You've comforted me during my worst hours, and you have given me something worth living for."

"James…"

"You're someone worth fighting for." He laughs a little. "I love you. And if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making you feel loved and caring for you in the ways that you have cared for me.

Darling, will you marry me?"

Magnus Martinsson from Wallander

"Marry me." Magnus groaned with relief when you brought him a plate of eggs, some coffee, and an aspirin. He was laying on your couch, hungover after a night out with you and some of his mates from the police station.

You simply rolled your eyes and laughed a little. "Eat your eggs, you'll feel better with some food inside you."

Magnus kept his eyes on you while you both drank coffee, his headache slowly diminishing. "That a yes?"

"No, Magnus." You flatly said. "You had a lot to drink last night. Just…eat your eggs and finish your coffee. I'm not saying yes to a guy that passed out on my couch after throwing up into the bushes outside."

He grimaced. "I did that?…Sorry." Magnus looked down and shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. "Whatever, it was just a question, not like I meant it or anything." He pretended to brush off the matter. "You doing anything else today?"

"Tidying the house. You?"

Magnus closed his eyes for a moment to taste the savory flavor of the eggs. "i have a few things to do at the station for Kurt. Won't take long."

You and Magnus finished breakfast in silence before Magnus thanked you for letting him crash on your couch. "I'll see you soon." He said, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You almost found it funny, the way he groaned for you to marry him, and chuckled to yourself. For all of his sarcastic quips and his cold exterior, there were times Magnus was an unintentional sweetheart. You'd known him for about seven months, how endearing he was whenever he tried to show off at darts or pool. You thought about the time he brought you soup every night when you had a flu that lasted for a week. And during that one time he showed up late to one of your date nights because of a case, he spent the rest of the evening simply snuggling with you until you fell asleep in each others' arms. It was one of the first times you'd ever seen him smiling so blissfully like a newborn baby.

About a few hours later, you could hear it rain outside, a bolt of thunder rumbling across the sky. While caught up in some trashy television, you heard a knock on the door.

There was Magnus, standing outside drenched from head to toe.

"Magnus, what are you-"

"I meant it." He confessed while the raindrops rolled down the sides of his face. "Marry me." He repeated when you asked him what he was talking about. Magnus reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small gold ring with three tiny diamonds. "You're the most perfect person in this entire world. And it's not just because you make the best eggs." He said, making you laugh. "You're stunning, even when you've just woken up. You put up with a lot, and…I can't really say what it is you do to me, but I can't help it. I…I…"

"I love you too, you crazy detective!" You finished.

"So, is that a yes?" Magnus asked again, with a big grin on his face as he presented the ring to you.

Robert Laing from High-Rise

"We need to talk." Robert broke the silence while the two of you shared a candlelit dinner in your flat.

All traces of a smile disappeared from your face instantly. Usually nothing good ever followed those four words.

You put your fork down. "What did you want to talk about?"

Robert looked you in the eye. "I moved to this high-rise to be alone, to be away from people. This…a relationship was the last thing that I wanted." He blinked, looking down at his plate for a moment. Then, he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

You tensed in your seat, preparing for the worst. God, Robert. If he was trying to break up with you, then he just picked the worst time possible.

The doctor stood up. "I thought I wasn't built for love…So I tried to be alone as much as I could, avoiding every chance to be attached to someone." He swallowed. "And then you came."

You let out a sigh, assuming that Robert was going to say something awful about your relationship.

"It was like I couldn't even recognize myself anymore. What you did to me…" Robert called your name and walked over to you. "I cannot go a day without hearing your quippy words…, without seeing you when I come home,…without kissing you. It's more than anything I have felt in years." He confessed, his fingers tracing the back of your chair. "If you were to disappear from my life, it would feel like losing everything I've ever known. And…truthfully, the idea of that terrifies me. Maybe I could live without you,…but I don't know if I would be able to call it living.

"So what are you trying to say?" You murmured.

Robert sighed. "Forgive me, I'm not used to having these conversations."

"It's okay."

"You did it again." The doctor remarked. "You're making me fall in love with you, sweetheart." Robert went to the coat closet where he kept his blazer, and pulled a small box from one of the pockets. He returned to your side. "What I'm trying to say is,…that I'm in love with you. I'm in love not only with you, but with the way that you make me…feel things. The way that you remind me that there's a future ahead of us both. A future that can be much more than just dreary parties and squabbles between the upper floors and lower floors. You make me very happy, darling, and I think that you should know that."

Robert took a deep breath and fell to one knee, next to your chair with the box opened to reveal a silver ring with a diamond heart. "Would you marry me, and make me an even happier man?"

Thomas Sharpe from Crimson Peak

You were sitting on the swing set in the garden of your family estate, enjoying the mid-morning sun and the gentle breeze. Idly moving your legs back and forth, you played with a small cluster of Baby's Breath in your lap. It was nice to be away from the bustling drama and the incessant gossip, and instead be surrounded by fresh air.

"My lady." You were awoken from your reverie by a smooth, vaguely familiar baritone that belonged to none other than Thomas Sharpe. He was a guest who'd been staying at an inn near your family's home, having joined your family for supper at least ten times in the past two weeks. In your eyes, he seemed mysterious and yet full of stories to tell, always having an anecdote about a place he'd visited or a trick to show you and your siblings. There was something about him that made you drawn to him as soon as he walked into a room, you were unable to articulate what it was.

"Good morning. What brings you here, Baronet?"

The baronet gave you a smile, and leaned against a tree, watching you enjoy yourself on the swings. "I was speaking to your father and his, erm, associates about a business venture."

"About clay, right? Mining it?"

Thomas nodded. "Precisely, my lady. And you, have you been enjoying your morning?"

You blushed as he took a step closer. "Yes, Baronet."

"No need for such formal titles now, my lady. We're not at a ball, nor are we at supper. ''Thomas' will do." He gently said. "May I share your company for a while, my lady, if it would not be much of a bother for you?"

You allowed him, giving the Baby's Breath to him as a token of affection. No, not a token of affection. Simply a nice gesture that would hopefully give you a place in Thomas's good books. Maybe he might even ask you for a dance at the next ball.

"Will you be attending the ball this Saturday, Bar- I mean, Thomas?"

He nodded, taking a moment to smell the flowers. "You?"

"I will."

"And have you chosen a gown, my lady?" Thomas decided to humor you a little. He smiled while you sheepishly described the dress that you had your eye on for that special occasion. "Well, I'm sure you will look divine wearing it, my lady. Do you often spend time here in the gardens, all by yourself."

"Yes. I enjoy the flowers, and the breeze. It's beautiful when the weather is pleasant."

"I can imagine, my lady. It's been a long time since I have relaxed in a garden." Thomas places the Baby's breath in his front pocket. "My lady, there is something I wish to know of you."

You stopped swinging, and asked him what it was.

"I would like to know if you would be interested in marrying me." Thomas knelt by your side, looking up at you with eyes that bore the same hue as a cloudless sky. "For some time, my lady, I have admired your numerous charms from afar. And with each passing day, my affections for you have grown stronger. I find myself thinking about you at the most unpropitious times of day." He sighs, "While I may not be a man of great fame or great brawn or of great wealth, I am a man of dignity." Thomas promised you, despite knowing it was a blatant lie. "I will make sure that you lack nothing as my wife. And to treat you with nothing but the compassion and the love that you deserve. All I ask in return, is that you try to find it in your heart to give me even an iota of your affections.

Would you be willing to do that, my lady?"

Jaguar Villain!Tom Hiddleston

Ever since you moved into the flat Mr. Hiddleston bought for you, the most powerful man in London always had a designated town car sent to pick you up from work or school every day. His favorite chauffeur would show up at the same time every weekday, give you a friendly greeting, and drop you off at your flat. And once you got there, you'd be greeted by a doorman that Mr. Hiddleston personally hired to make sure that you reached safely.

Today, however, the chauffeur did not drop you off at your flat. At least, not right away. "Monsieur Hiddleston had something different in mind for today," he said with a small grin, like he knew something was going on. The chauffeur dropped you off at the nail salon for a manicure paid for by your powerful beau.

After being pampered by the nail technician for about forty-five minutes, you returned to the town car to find a bag in the backseat with the word 'Harrods' on it. "You went shopping?" You asked the chauffeur while he drove you to your flat.

"Non, it was all Monsieur Hiddleston. He was keeping this dress on hold, and asked me to pick it up for you. He would like you to wear it tonight."

You thanked the chauffeur with a smile. Inside the bag was a beautiful Carolina Herrera gown in your favorite color. And right on cue, your phone buzzed with a text from your beau, asking if you liked his gift. As always, you texted back saying that it was perfect.

The chauffeur dropped you off at your flat, and asked you to be ready by seven-thirty…but not before taking a good look at your manicured nails and saying an early 'congratulations'.

"Gordon owes me a favor," Mr. Hiddleston bragged a little when he arrived in front of your building at seven-thirty sharp. He opened the door of his favorite black Jaguar, and helped you inside the front passenger seat. "You look stunning tonight, darling."

"You look amazing too," you couldn't help but say. It was the truth after all. "When you said Gordon, did you mean…?"

"We're going to the River Restaurant in the Savoy Hotel, darling." He kept one hand on the steering wheel, placing the other one on your knee. "Hungry?"

"Nervous," you sheepishly said.

"I'm here, nothing can harm you." He turned his eyes to the road. "Your fears are far behind you."

The moment you arrived, the host of the restaurant immediately led you both to one of the outdoor terraces, where there was a table for two set up. Mr. Hiddleston pulled the chair for you before sitting down, and a waiter poured both of you some Dom Pérignon.

"This is beautiful." You gushed, watching the most powerful man in London raise an invisible toast. You clinked your glass against his.

He replied with a dramatic flair. "Nothing compared to you."

"So…what did you to get this favor?" You leaned in and asked him while the waiter placed a charcuterie board for the two of you to share. "This is a seafood place, charcuterie isn't on the menu."

A twinkle in his cerulean eyes, Mr, Hiddleston fed you a piece of cheese. "That's confidential, darling. Just enjoy the night."

"I will."

The two of you made small talk about your day, and about Mr. Hiddleston's upcoming business trip to Paris. You would be going with him of course, Mr. Hiddleston would make sure of that. The waiter refilled your champagne, and your beau discretely gave him a twenty-pound note, whispering that it was time for the main course.

The waiter took about fifteen minutes to bring your elegantly-arranged entrees out onto the terrace. And as he came out, you could hear an orchestra from inside the hotel begin to play "All I Ask of You" from Phantom of the Opera.

"Enjoying yourself?" Mr. Hiddleston leaned forward with a smirk as he noticed you listening to the music.

You admitted this was one of the songs you enjoyed, and said it reminded you of the first time you'd ever heard of the musical. How much you wanted to be Christine in that moment, serenaded with the promise of a life with no more darkness.

"Well there's one more thing I have for you tonight, darling." With a smirk, Mr. Hiddleston reached into the pocket of his blazer, retrieving a small box labeled 'Harry Winston'. He slowly got out of his chair and made his way towards you.

You gasped, covering your mouth almost immediately. You swore you could feel your heart stop just for a moment when his eyes met yours. It all made sense now: the manicure, the accidental 'congratulations', the gown,…

"Oh my god…"

Mr. Hiddleston fell to one knee and opened the box, which contained a 1-carat diamond ring with a platinum band. "Love me. It's all I ask of you."

Tag list: @thatdummy-girl @icytrickster17 @mischievoushiddleston,@lokischambermaid , @lady-rose-moon , @lokisgoodgirl , @lokisninerealms @jennyggggrrr ,, @tom-hiddleston-imagines , @lokiismineforever @smolvenger @winterfrostlovetriangle , @the-haven-of-fiction , @turniptitaness @cakesandtom ,@sallymagnoliaposts @leahs-reading-nook @holdmytesseract @muddyorbsblr @evelyn-kingsley @anukulee @acidcasualties @lotsoflokilove23 @caffiend-queen

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celtigxr · 2 months ago

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The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. viii: Still Falling for You

Chapter Summary: Incapable of finding sleep, both Valeana and Aemond seek refuge in the sanctuary of the library, together. Alone.

Word: 3751

Sneak Peak: “Is this your way of forgiving me, Lady Valeana?”

Warnings: +18/MDNI. Masturbation, P+V sex, Smut. Descriptive anxiety attack. PTSD flashbacks.

T H E G R E E N S

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Aemond was a black and silver mass of fury and rage as he left the training yard. He made a beeline towards the stables so that he could exit King’s Landing and find Vhagar, wanting to put as much distance between himself and Valeana and Aegon as possible. He didn’t trust himself in the castle where he could bump into someone that could set him off. The Keep crawled with crabs.

But before he was even able to get to the stables, Criston had reached him shortly after he exited. His firm hand clutched the side of shoulder to stop Aemond’s long and fast stride.

“My prince–” Cole cut himself short when Aemond whirled on him, eye filled with violet fire. The knight let his arm drop to his side and took a step back, but otherwise did not move. “Do not let him get under your skin. Your brother only seeks to provoke you. You let him and he wins.”

Aemond’s nostrils flared, “He did not provoke me.” His words were forced through his teeth.

Cole tilted his head, not believing him, “You lost yourself the moment the two of you locked swords. I saw him whisper something to you, what was it?”

Aemond’s jaw was tight, and his lips were a thin line. His eye flickered down from Cole’s face to a vacant spot over his shoulder.

“Shall I describe it to you? Her delicious, untouched cunny–”

He shut his eye tightly, trying to rid the image of what Aegon was alluding to; what he implied he had done. He wished to believe that Valeana had far more dignity for herself than the weak-willed female servants that Aegon lured to his bed. However, he did not recognize this Valeana Celtigar – she was a different person.

“He was speaking immorally of a lady of court,” Aemond surprised himself by the truth of his words, although vague. Alas, He did not think Cole was of a lesser mind to not know who he was referring to anyway.

Before the knight could prod onto why that bothered him so, Aemond continued. “I grow weary of my brother’s depravities. He seeks to dishonour not only himself but this entire family. Should he–” He cut himself off, eye flickering around the corridor they found themselves in. When satisfied that they were alone, he took a step closer to Cole, his voice lowered.

“Should there be a shift of succession upon my father’s death, Aegon’s reputation will only bolster my half-sister’s claim and make us look like fools.”

Criston kept his opinion on the matter to himself. Aegon wouldn’t be first nor the last whoremonger that was crowned, and that had never given the people a reason to question whether or not they deserved the title of King. He doubted Aegon would for that reason alone, should he usurp his sister’s crown. With that knowledge, Cole could see Aemond grasping on straws.

“Do not worry about your brother’s reputation, my Prince,” the knight finally spoke. “Worry only of your own mind and what you intend to do with it. It is the sharpest and most lethal weapon on your person. Use it to protect your heart, Aemond, because the moment you let someone commandeer that, they can use it against you.”

Aemond stared at him in quiet contemplation. There was something behind his words and his dark eyes that the prince could detect, but not make out. Cole spoke as if he was speaking to himself, almost like advice he would have given to his sons so they would not make the same mistake he had done.

“Do not worry, Cole,” Aemond tilted his head back. He still simmered on the surface, but the inferno in his chest reigned in like a claimed dragon. “I never had any intention of letting anyone close. Not even my own family.”

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Aemond was with Vhagar for over a day. When he returned to the Keep, it was the hour of the bat. By the time he instructed two servants to draw him a bath, and then got to his chambers to undress, it was the hour of the eel.

The searing heat of the water burned off the sweat and grime that coated his body. He dunked into the water to wash out the sand and filth from his hair; he had spent the previous night asleep on a secluded beach east of King’s Landing, on the coast of the Narrow Sea just outside the Gullet. The morning after he had found crabs to boil in a stone basin he put over a fire. The screeching of the little creatures eased his mind; the symbolism wasn’t lost on him either. It was cathartic.

But now in the Keep, boiling in his own basin, his mind wandered to crabs that still live. Namely one with hair as fair as his and eyes as green as wildfire.

“Her delicious, untouched cunny–”

Aemond growled at the intrusive voice of his brother. He fisted the side of the tub before running his fingers over his temples and down to his chin with his other hand. Then, Aemond shut his eye and leaned his head back, trying to will himself to think of anyone else. One of Helaena’s attractive handmaids, the one with the long legs, hair as dark as a raven, and almond shaped eyes. He’s never had her, but he could. The way she stared at him with intrigue and awe, it was quite obvious that she desired him.

Heat pooled at his pelvis, and his hand went under the water to inspect. Aemond’s lips parted once his palm met the hardening muscle between his thighs. A small sigh escaped at the first stroke and then his imagination took flight.

He imagined the maid coming into his bedchambers and finding him in the bath. He imagined her hands on his shoulders and chest as she cleans the remnants of battle off his body. Then he imagined her frumpy maids gown drop from her own before she slowly descended into the water.

Then he was reminded of crabs in boiling water again. And when he looked at her, her hair brightened to a white-gold, and her almond eyes widened into a pair of doe shaped peridot orbs with pupils blown wide. Aemond tried to fight back, forcing the image of the other woman back into his mind’s eye, but ultimately his cock won.

Pleasure overtook all sense of intelligence for Aemond Targaryen. His imagination feverishly feeds his loins with thoughts of Valeana Celtigar. Her ample tits sleek with soap and water, and his hands grasping and pinching her pink nipples. Her thighs wrapped around his narrow hips, and her pouty lips trailing kisses along the column of his neck. And then how she’d arch her back when she speared herself on him. One of his hands upon a breast, and the other on her buttocks, both kneading the supple flesh with large fingers as she bopped slowly up and down his length.

“Is this your way of forgiving me, Lady Valeana?”

With her voice lost in his mind, she only nodded like an eager whore, mouth a perfect O as she took his full length down to the hilt.

He was so close.

Aemond grabbed her hair and yanked her head back as he leaned forward. His hips jerked wildly under her, water splashing everywhere around the basin.

“You are mine. You always have been, and you always will.”

“Then claim me now! Inside! Aemond… Please!”

His arms encased her body tightly against his, and his nose buried in the crook of her neck with his teeth nipping the skin there. As he reached his physical peak, he imagined filling her womb with his seed, and claiming her for once and for all. Like how he was always meant to do. What he should have done if he wedded her more than half a decade ago.

Aemond tilted his head back against the tub with mouth hanging open, thick veins protruding under the tight skin of his neck, arms and hands as he stroked himself to completion. A long, satisfied groan escaped from parted lips as ropes of white seed clouded the dirty bath water. His entire body went limp after, his muscles relaxed, but his breathing laboured. The post-orgasm still clouded his mind, but it didn’t take long until he gained some clarity.

His eye opened and he found himself looking up at the ceiling of an empty room. Aemond curled his bottom lip under his teeth, and flexed his fingers angrily as he raked them over his face.

“Fuck!” He shouted as the self-loathing settled in. He was so pathetically weak.

T H E R E D S

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Valeana and her sisters went to their bedchambers at the hour of the eel, like they so often do. Sharing a room with Shyla left little room for privacy, but the younger of the sisters fell asleep fast. Soon the room was filled with soft sighs and the rustling of blankets and furs as Valeana tossed and turned in her bed, trying to will herself into a slumber.

It was at the hour of ghosts when she had given up on trying, and promptly got out of bed and snatched her burgundy robe after hastily strapping her prosthetic. Her mind was a cluster of thoughts, namely to questions she needed answered. The old book she had read the other day still haunted her curious mind, and she needed answers to the question that burned at the forefront.

Did she have a Targaryen ancestor? Did the Targaryens ever marry a Celtigar?

There had to be at least one with a lineage so long and old. The Targaryens, with all their desire to preserve their Valyrian dragon blood, had many children with each other, and only branched out to very few houses outside of their own. With the Velaryons being one of them, why hadn’t they married a Celtigar?

There could be many reasons, Valeana surmised, as she contemplated a list of them on her way to the Royal Library. Celtigars weren’t so eager to preserve their pure blood; their ambitions stemmed from wealth and reputation. Valyrian blood is strong, and because of that, many generations of Celtigars still birthed children with fair hair and purple eyes, even though their ancestral features dwindled with every generation. As did their names with every Andal or First Man married into the family.

Valeana was the first child to be given a Valyrian name in a couple generations, and the choice, surprisingly, was by her mother, a Lannister of all people. She had chosen the name prior to her birth, but her father wanted to call her Lynora. Val supposed that had her mother not died, she would have been called Lynora, but her father ended up honouring his late wife’s wishes and titled his first daughter Valeana. The story, she learned early in her youth, was that her mother had found the name in a book about the houses of Old Valyria. Lysa, though, had mispronounced it at the time. “Val-awna”, she said, when it was supposed to be “Val-ayna”. But when Barty corrected her, Lysa waved him off and said she liked her way better, and thus the variation stuck.

The Royal Library was empty, aside from the patrolling guard outside that merely acknowledged her with a nod. Maester Artos, who usually presided over it, was blessedly gone. Artos was as old as the books that lined the walls, and always treated her like a nuisance whenever she had dared ask for a book. He would pop the vein in his forehead had he known that she was in there without him present, pilfering books off of shelves at the dead of night. Books that he spent his entire life meticulously organizing and keeping clean of dust and oils from dirty fingers.

The book in question wasn’t difficult to find. It was placed on a pedestal inside an alcove in the north chamber. It was large in dimensions, but not as thick as other tomes she had seen there. The binding was made of iron and leather, embossed with the sigil of the House of Targaryen. It was broader than her shoulders, and one of the heaviest things she had ever had to lift. But, Valeana was stronger than people gave her credit for. She heaved it up with her entire chest and then shuffled to the nearest table and did her best to gently lay it down with the back facing her.

With a heavy exhale, Valeana fell into the chair and flipped the back cover and blank pages over to get to the latest entry. She was going to begin from the earliest entry, since it would be easy to skim through given her recent knowledge.

“Visenya, Viserys, Aegon, bigoted from Princess Rhaenyra and her uncle Prince Daemon Targaryen… Silver of hair, and violet eyes,” Valeana read outloud, and pursed her lips. It had been a week since they had taken port, and they had yet to receive confirmation that the Princess and the Rogue Prince were coming. Then after learning about the possible fatal wound Lord Clorlys Velaryon suffered at the Stepping Stones, Valeana started to believe there was a distinct possibility that the King would not get his wish in reuniting the Valyrian houses.

Valeana hadn’t been able to go to Laena Velaryon’s funeral all those years ago, but her father and stepmother went with Clement. While they had not witnessed what happened at Driftmark on that fateful night, Bartimos was made aware of it the morning after. Aemond had claimed Vhagar, and in a skirmish of just children, he had lost his eye for it. When Alicent did not receive the justice she wanted, she had attacked her step-daughter and former friend in a fit of maternal rage.

Val wondered if her mother had been still alive, would she have the same rage when she saw what Aemond did to her? Would she reach for a knife and try to take Alicent’s leg in lieu of the Prince’s?

From what she was told, Lysa Lannister had the demeanor of a contented lioness. Very little angered her; she was patient, listened intently to her husband and friends, and rarely talked in social settings. However, when she did, all listened at the table. Her father said that the only time he had witnessed Lysa’s anger was when Queen Aemma, her closest friend and mistress, had died on her birthing bed, and not long after, the sharks of the small council swarmed King Viserys about remarrying. The tipping point was when Prince Daemon had called the late princeling “Heir for a Day”. After the King had summoned his brother to the Throne Room to confront him about it, Lysa intercepted Daemon in the corridor outside. She slapped him with the back of her jewel adorned hand. then spat in his eye and called him a jealous blackguard with a tiny piece of coal for a heart. Allegedly she had gone to punch him, but a gold cloak had pulled her back with her kicking and screaming.

Valeana wagered her mother would have probably done a lot more to avenge her children. Probably commit treason. The thought of that made her smirk in amusement.

When the door to the library was pushed open, she had barely gotten through the Old King’s long list of sires and grandsires, and the Targaryen bastards that were worth mentioning. Valeana jostled in her seat, getting ready to spew excuses for Maester Artos, but the person who walked in the door was much worse than the old man.

It was Aemond.

He looked equally as surprised to see her there, albeit briefly. Soon his face contorted into one of annoyance.

“What are you doing here? It is prohibited to enter the library when the Maester is abed,” he looks about the library, seeing no other candlelight other than Valeana’s, confirming that she was, indeed, here alone.

“No-” she cleared her throat when it came out croaky. “No one stopped me. The doors were open.”

“Hm,” from this distance she could see his lips thin, “Do you allow your guests to go where they please in your home during the hour of the owl over at Claw Isle?”

Val’s cheeks turned red, though she thanked the darkness for shielding it from him, “Yes.” She lied. Truthfully, it would be strange if the positions were reversed and she found a guest she wasn’t overly fond of in their family’s library in the dead of night. But there was a fat chance she would admit that to him.

“I do not believe you,” he stood still before his eye flickered to the large book that sat on the table and then moved over to the empty podium it once sat. His jaw tightened as he strode over, “That is not a book to be removed from its place. It is not a book to be touched by common– anyone other than a Targaryen.”

Valeana bristled at his tone, but before she could give him a reasonable answer of: “how the hell am I supposed to know?” he slammed the heavy book shut in front of her, causing both the table and herself to jump in surprise.

“I was reading that!” She stood up as he slid the tome across the table to his side and pulled it up to cradle it against his chest.

He didn’t say anything as he lifted it with ease and brought it back to its podium. Aemond gently adjusted it to its center, and then inspected it, convinced she had damaged it somehow.

It bothered her to be ignored, especially after so rudely snatching what she was reading, after all he has said and done. She was bothering no one, especially not him, yet her simple presence was enough to demean her. In her annoyed anger, she swiftly strode towards him, and without thought she reached out and grabbed his arm, repeating herself, “Aemond, I said I was reading–”

Once her hand grabbed his shoulder, his entire body jerked back. His other hand reached over to grab hers, only to shove it back into her, effectively thrusting her away. The shock of being pushed immediately brought back a riptide of memories, one after the other. It might’ve only been a second or less, but it felt like an eternity; it felt like her back was being passed through endless air and then surely be greeted by one sharp edged stair after another.

Had she been an abled body woman, she would have balanced herself after a step back. Unfortunately, when she left her bedroom, she did not dress her leg properly, nor did she wear secured shoes. Her bad leg gave in to her weight when it found no security in the loose straps, and she slipped, landing flat on her back on the carpeted wooden floor.

Valeana could feel the sting of tears behind her tightly shut lids. Her tailbone and shoulders were in the most pain, but luckily the soft carpet had absorbed the shock of it. Though nothing felt worse than her face, which burned and twitched as she fought back hard to control the sob that threatened to burst out of her throat. Even with eyes tightly closed, she could feel air on her good leg, which meant her robe and small clothes had left her legs bare, and the humiliating knowledge he could see everything made this all the worse.

“Valeana–”

Without so much as a hiccup, she rolled onto her knees and held onto her right thigh as she righted left leg carefully, yet swiftly. She refused to breathe through her mouth, afraid that the sounds of her sorrow would escape from her throat and echo an infinite amount of times in the grand expanse of the library. Valeana fled, at least as much as she could; the pain on her tailbone coupled with her loosened straps made her limp-sprint out of the library and down the corridor.

She spared absolutely no glances over her shoulder. Her eyes casted onto the floor as she watched her mismatched steps on the stone tiles. It seemed, at some point, her shoe had slipped off, but she couldn’t remember when or where that happened. Her ears were ringing with white noise; if anyone were calling after her, be it a guard or a servant, she did not hear them. All she could hear was the sound of her inner child’s own blood curdling scream. Her left leg suddenly started to burn, a phantom pain shooting up her non existent calf.

Valeana’s lips finally popped open, and something between a groan of agony and a sob escaped. Gasping, she faltered in her gait, and her eyes shut with a veil of tears that blurred her vision. Then she stumbled forward with a grasping hand at her left knee, chest and shoulders stuttering with each panicked gasp.

“Valeana? Valeana?” Someone was holding her upright with masculine hands on her shoulders. “Hells, what’s wrong? What happened?”

She allowed her weight to be pressed against the stranger’s chest as her own shook with sobs of anguish and phantom pains. His hands moved from her shoulders to her face, trying to urge her to look up at him.

“Valeana, tell me what happened. Look at me,” His voice was familiar to her, but his identity remained unknown until the dew from her lids slipped down her reddened cheeks and her vision focused. Aegon’s wide purple eyes examined her face, full of concern and fear, two things she has never seen there before.

“I hate him,” She finally spoke through gritted teeth. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”

His eyes searched hers, the creases in his forehead relaxed when he managed to piece the puzzle together with the little context she gave him. Aegon’s thumbs brushed away the tears from her cheeks and then pulled her to his chest.

“Let’s get out of the hall,” He whispered after a moment. “My apartments are not far from here.”

He pulled her arm over his shoulder, and slipped his under hers. Taking a brief glance down to her feet, he noticed her right foot was clad in a red velvet slipper, and the other a wooden one.

Note: This was an emotionally taxing chapter to write, so I hope it came out well. I had to channel a lot of personal experience into it. Also, I had to squish in Valeana's name pronunciation somehow XD. So there it is.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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mhsdatgo · 8 months ago

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Alicent crowing aegon exposing her children to more risk than just letting rhaenyra became queen. Rhaenyra wanted that throne, there is no way she would have accepted those "terms", and alicent is 100% aware of this in the book and in the show as well. By crowning aegon she start a war and put her children DIRECTLY on the battlefield against people who were more experienced in war like daemon or ride dragon longer like rhaenyra and rhaenys amd consequently may control their dragon better. If you didn't want to consider a crash between two or more dragons, even if they were on a dragon against an army the danger is very high, look at rhaenys the conqueror or aemon the first son of jaehaerys, they were on dragon's back and yet both of them were killed by arrow. Not to mention that both in the book and in the show alicent spend years creating animosity with rhaenyra, If you TRULY believe that someone may hurt your children you do everything you can to maintain at least a civil relationship, and not constantly provoke them and then cry about how your children may be hurt by your stupidity. Because that what alicent has done in the book starting hating rhaenyra, pray viserys to name Aegon as heir and constantly share gossip to damage rhaenyra's image (with a 10 years old girl, meanwhile Alicent was a GROWN woman), and in the show the situation is not different. The truth is that alicent’s action were based on her own ambitious in the book and on her resentment to rhaenyra in the show, but NEVER in the interest of her children. In fact aegon never wanted to be king, he was forced by her and has to endure all the consequences while watching all of his family die

Ladies and gentlemen, here we have someone who quite literally didn't get a single thing about Fire and Blood.

See, anons like these are what makes my blood boil at the writers of HotD for making Rhaenyra appear like a saint which not only made most of the decisions she'll take from this moment onward out of (show) character (as far as character building and development goes) but also fucking boring.

I'm always one to listen to different points of view and interpretations of books as complicated as these, but something that has always bugged me is the way this fandom CANNOT DIGEST the type of tragedy that is just inevitable.

It was never about picking sides, it was never about sexism, it was always about kin torn apart by kin and their own flaws dragging them down. There was no way to ever avoid that and I cannot have a proper discussion about F&B with anyone who doesn't understand this first.

Moreover, just what do you think Alicent should've done? Shut up, be quiet, sit still and look pretty while Daemon's spies turned her children into bloody shreds? Allow them to be assassinated because of the threat they pose to Rhaenyra's claim? Does everything revolve around her? Is she some kind of Twilight Sparkle?

Let me tell you this: no woman would willingly step back and leave their children to their own devices when their own lives pose a threat to someone else's interests.

I have respect for Rhaenyra and her will to fight for what she believed was her birthright (although let's be honest, it was a feeling born out of nothing but the entitlement of a spoiled brat, it turned into a war of parents after one of each faction's children was killed) but I also have so much more respect for Alicent and her courage to bare teeth and claws and plan a coup to be allowed the upper hand and more possibilities of looking after her children if one of them is ruling. It's not "stupidity" it's awareness. And acting according to it.

It's true that Alicent has her own ambitions, but to say that they started growing in her when she was nothing but an 18 year old girl marrying a 30 year old man... Do you hear yourself? That's a girl getting graduated from high school. Oh shiver me timbers, we're scared of young adults here.

Everyone likes and loves and adores to talk about the way ALICENT was having beef with Rhaenyra as a 10 year old but nevermind Rhaenyra placing a bounty on two toddlers and one of them getting ripped apart because of it. Nevermind her refusing that bastard Corlys' advice to take Daeron as a hostage and demanding that he be killed instead. (Because this bitch was the #1 threat to her rule, but y'all aren't ready for that conversation)

She never "prayed" for Aegon to be named as heir, what she DID pray for was for him and Rhaenyra to be betrothed to one another. I hate Rhaegon personally, (no hate to any Rhaegon stan that reads this ♥️) but honestly this is the only marriage that could've MAYBE prevented the Dance. It started because there were two claimants to the throne. Just marry them to each other and the issue was solved. Both of them get crowned, no Dance, peace.

But noooooo, Viserys, the incompetent twat, as always had to act like an incompetent twat and be like "lol but they don't get along". IT WAS HIM WHO DOOMED HIS CHILDREN, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF HIS SONS AND DAUGHTERS. ALL. OF. THEM.

Everyone else acted as a consequence to the cluterfuck that the sick old man created. Namely, chaos. What else did you expect?

#hotd #house of the dragon #pro alicent hightower #pro team green #anti rhaenyra stans #anti team black #anti viserys i targaryen

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photo1030 · 1 year ago

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 18: Feelings Revealed

Part 4 - SEE ME, FEEL ME, TOUCH ME, HEAL ME

Summary: You and Arthur finally have your first night together.

Warning: 18+ please, Minors - DNI; This is a long one, too.

*I had another title for this, but as I was listening to The Who, this lyric began to play as I was editing and it just seemed to fit this chapter perfectly.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

*These are NOT my images. However, I have seen them in multiple versions and on multiple sources. So I don't know who the owners are to credit. But if anyone knows, let me know.

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic @rhehr241 @earwen-x @akariver75 @djennty @nervousmumbling @xliliths @unbotheredbeeeee @onnetonprinsessa @kittiowolf210 @ezrynn @suhiss @arthurmargon @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler @alice-vanderlinde @sweetandstoned21 @j4llyf7sh @spooky631 @m0r4rx @ilovrxats @i-69-urmom @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people.

Arthur gets a small fire going outside the lean-to hunting shelter. The fire burns a deep red and vibrant yellow as the flames lick up around the logs. It’s a soft and comforting sight, the popping and crackling of the wood drowning out all other sounds in the forest this evening. The sky is deepening to a majestic royal purple hue, with its diamond-glittering stars emerging like a crown. The glow of the fire casts its light only upon your little shelter and the immediate area surrounding it as if protecting you inside of an intimate little sphere made just for the two of you.

With his task complete, Arthur moves into the shelter and sits down on the ground, nervously wiping his hands on the sides of his pants as he looks over and watches as you flit about to fix the make-shift bedding. You’ve rolled out his bedroll and fanned out a blanket overtop. You’ve even taken off your jacket, rolling it into a pillow of sorts and tucking it under the other fabrics.

Part of your fidgeting is because you want everything to be perfect. The other part is because you are so nervous. Although, you are not really sure why. Arthur is the one person in the world who you feel the most comfortable and safe with. And yet, with all of the previous restrictions and obstacles now removed, you almost feel more vulnerable than ever.

When you finish fidgeting with the bedroll and blanket, you turn and look down at him, meeting his gaze with a shy smile gracing your features. You nervously bite your bottom lip as you hesitate for just a moment before you hike up your skirts. Loosely balling the cotton into your hands to show just the slightest amount of your calves, you move to sit on Arthur’s lap. And straddling his hips so that you can face him, you slowly lower yourself down on top of his folded legs.

He tentatively sets his hands on your hips to help guide you down. Your hands come to rest upon the sides of his neck and shoulders for support, but you leave them there for a few moments after you settle, the muscle and bulk of his body keenly radiating through your fingertips.

Arthur’s hands carefully come up around your neck, his long fingers stretching around to the back and into your hair as his thumbs brush against your chin. He cradles your face, staring as if he hasn't seen you in years, because now he sees you in a whole new light, more radiant and precious to him than ever before.

You and Arthur simply sit and stare at each other with no words spoken, neither of you sure where to even begin. And yet the anticipation is epic. The comforting silence that encompasses the air is like that that follows the rain. The soft crackling of the fire just outside the shelter is the only sound you hear besides your measured breathing.

Excitement fills your mind as you cannot believe that this is finally happening. But suddenly, you have the fear that Arthur is going to change his mind about this whole thing; that he’s going to get up and bolt from you. Now that you are actually here alone together, you are filled with insecurity. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? You are not the prettiest girl in camp. What if you're too forward? What if you're not forward enough? (He is an outlaw after all.)

But your whole internal struggle is ridiculous, because Arthur is having the same exact conversation with himself in his own mind right now. He’s ugly. He’s riddled with scars and calluses. He’s older than you, too. And, he is not a good man.

But what neither of you realize is that despite how broken you both are, you are exactly what the other wants and needs.

His hands release your face, smoothing down over your shoulders and arms to now rest gingerly on your upper thighs. Arthur’s mind races as he stares at you perched so perfectly upon his lap, right where he’s always wanted you. He wrestles with his self-doubt, but in contrast, he also has to deal with his own heated desires. He's wanted you for so, so long. It is all he can do to restrain himself from throwing you down and roughly taking you here and now.

But eventually, your hand lifts and moves slowly like a butterfly hovering in the air to lay across his cheek. His skin is warm and his beard stubble tickles the palm of your hand. Arthur slowly closes his eyes the moment your fingers graze his skin. He slightly leans into your hand as he places his own massive one overtop of yours to hold it in place, basking in the tenderness found there. It is like a gift that he’s rarely received in his life, and his reaction to your simple gesture almost makes your heart break for him.

Your fingers soon leave his face and proceed to his neck to pull at the knot of his neckerchief which quickly comes off and gets tossed to the side. Then your thumbs gracefully hook under his suspenders to lower them down off his broad shoulders. Although your movements are fluid like water, you can feel Arthur’s whole body begin to stiffen a bit in apprehension under you.

With the suspenders out of the way, you drift back up to the collar of his shirt, hesitating but just for a moment. You slowly begin to unbutton, working the fasteners back through the holes with slightly shaking fingers. Your eyes follow the trail of your fingers, but Arthur’s gaze never leaves your face, watching you so intently as you work. The glow of the fire outside warms your skin and causes copper flecks to dance in your eyes. He takes note how your breathing has become a bit faster, yet shallow. He’s not sure if it is from nervousness or second thoughts.

When you get to the last button at his waistline your hands float up again, resembling the wingspan of a dove, and tuck under the collar. You slowly push the worn cotton fabric back and off of Arthur’s massive shoulders. Your fingertips trace along the thick sinewy muscles of his arms as you continue to push the fabric down to reveal more of his skin to you. The cool air nips at his skin the moment it is exposed. However, it’s a welcoming sensation to wake him up and anchor him to the present before he drifts off entirely and loses himself.

Once freed from the garment, your fingertips retrace their path, dancing back up along Arthur’s arms again until they find his shoulders. They continue to explore along his strong neck and move back up to cradle his jawline, until you are holding his handsome face in your hands once more. You pull Arthur in to you for another kiss; slow, deep and passionate. You close your eyes, savoring the taste of his lips. This kiss, just this simple kiss is all it takes for your heart to lose its balance. And all you want to do is fall.

Arthur’s hands suddenly leave your hips to clutch at your back hungrily while you kiss. He pulls at the bottom of your blouse, lifting it up enough so that he can place his hand onto the bare skin of your lower back, which is softer than he could’ve imagined.

You lean back from him just enough to catch your breath, reluctant to break the kiss, and take the opportunity to pull your blouse and chemise over your head and toss it to the side, leaving yourself now chest bare before Arthur. The movement causes your hair to ruffle, the locks falling softly like fire ash in the wind to frame your face.

Arthur blinks a few times and locks onto your eyes, as if testing if his are allowed to roam. At this precarious little moment, he is literally standing on the precipice of no return, and happily waiting to plunge over the side and into your arms.

Your soft smile gives him permission to explore and Arthur swallows thickly as he lets his gaze draw down your face and over your delicate throat, where he catches the skin flicker as you swallow and your pulse quickens. His eyes continue to float down across the delicate curve of your clavicle, until finally landing on your breasts. You watch his reaction closely, noticing his breath hitch slightly as you feel his body shift underneath you.

Arthur sits motionless, taking in the sight and taking time to appreciate the sheer beauty before him. He has waited and prayed for this moment and he wants not a second of it to be rushed. You reach down and collect his left hand into both of your own and bring it to your lips to softly kiss his dirt-stained knuckles before placing his hand on your right breast, closing his thick fingers around it. A soft puff of air huffs out of his nose at the intimate contact. Arthur draws his thumb across the bud of your nipple and gently squeezes the flesh, amazed at how supple it is.

You slowly remove your left hand from his and reach to set it upon his firm chest, trailing your fingers through the soft curls of golden-brown hair that is scattered across his body. You start at his collarbone and drift downward before placing your small, delicate palm directly over his heart.

"I can feel your heartbeat." You smile, pausing to experience the fluttering under your fingertips. "Can you feel mine?" you innocently ask him, staring at him with wide and hopeful eyes. You look at Arthur as if he is so special, so wondrous, that the feeling seems so foreign to him; almost as if it actually hurts him to be gazed upon so intensely like this. But it is not so much as the way you look at him, but how you can’t bring yourself to look at anything else.

“I feel your heart, your breath, your skin, your hair," he rambles as he gently pulls at a lock. "…everything.”

The poor man is so overwhelmed. All of his senses are saturated: seeing you perched on his lap so close that he can count the freckles on your cheeks, your honeyed voice and soft giggles of excitement ringing in his ears. He can taste you on his lips as you kiss.

And the kisses… dear God, you have lips so soft yet firm that they draw the very breath from his lungs. The feeling of your tongues rolling over each other is heavenly. But it’s your touch that does him in. When you caress Arthur’s tired face, or run your hand along his strong and burdened shoulders, he sweetly shudders beneath you.

It's been a long time since Arthur has done this; has allowed someone else to touch him in this way. Sure, there were Mary and Eliza, with the occasional working girl for the dire release, but those instances were far and few between. But Arthur has cut himself off for so long that he can’t even remember the last time he was touched like this. He can't even stand to look at himself, how could he manage to let a woman see him in this state?

Touch starved doesn’t even begin to describe it. And Arthur didn't notice how bad it was until the moment you ran your fingers along his bare arms and chest, your fingers caressing his face. Or, maybe it is just that it is specifically you touching him that is driving him crazy with desire right now.

You eventually begin to explore his body, and trace your fingers along several scars in particular along his chest, arms, and torso, mesmerized by them. Some are larger than others. Some are less angry-looking as time has healed them. But all show the contrast between an old wound and the tanned skin they bury into.

Being self conscious, Arthur instantly stiffens and tries not to instinctively recoil from you as your attention focuses on his scars. You don't pull back in revulsion as he had expected you to. But you simply stare and curiously run your finger over each one that you can find, like studying the fine thread work of a tapestry, and wondering how it got there.

"I know I ain’t much to look at for you," Arthur mutters lowly and embarrassed.

The comment causes you to look up into his eyes with a twinkle in your own before you lean over and softly begin to kiss each scar that you can reach with your lips. Each patch of hardened tissue is a target of your divine attention. The gesture catches Arthur off-guard and his eyes roll shut with a sigh at the feeling of your delicate lips on his damaged skin.

After a few moments of sweetly-delivered kisses, you sit up to look him in the eye again. "Your scars aren’t ugly, Arthur. They tell your story.” Your voice is an angelic whisper, both light-hearted and earnest at the same time; almost childlike in its wonderment. “They are a testament to how strong you really are, and of all of the things you’ve been through. Others would have crumbled under half the weight you’ve had to endure. You're like a tree; strong and weathered, and where everyone takes refuge."

Your hands dance along his chest again until your index finger lands on one scar in particular that is about three inches from his heart. Your face turns dark for a second, your brows furrowed at the thought of the glaring hardship that he unquestioningly assumes on behalf of everyone else that he cares for.

"You take the brunt of the storm while everyone is protected by you, Arthur." You gaze at him from under your thick lashes with a look of concern that darkens your once-bright face, worried about his well-being.

“Yeah, I’m rough and gnarled like an ol’ oak tree”, he sighs with a sad little self-deprecating grin as his fingertips drum nervously on your back.

The effervescent giggle that bubbles from your lips at his statement is music to his ears as that grin of yours that Arthur loves so much blooms across your cheeks.

“Yes, you’re rough, I’ll give you that,” you chuckle in agreement. “But, also like an old oak tree, every once in awhile, Arthur, you show the most magnificent colors.” The demure little smile that graces your face is enough to make Arthur’s heart stop.

He’s not used to this. He’s been denied attention for so long. Which is ironic, as all you want to do is touch him: run your fingers along his face, draw your leg along his, push yourself up against his bare chest. It's hard for you to imagine anyone ever thinking Arthur is not enough as he is all that you ever seem to think about.

Arthur pulls you to him again for more kisses which you happily reciprocate. The more you touch each other, the more the two of you relax and let go of the inhibitions and hesitations; the comfort settling upon you two like a warm blanket. Your kisses quickly lead to tight embraces, holding each other so close that it's possible that a rib may crack. Heavy breathing and gentle, needy moaning begins to fill the quiet night air.

Getting bolder, Arthur places hot, wet lips along your jawline, down your neck and over your collarbone, getting more and more greedy as your chin gently drops back to grant him access to the sensitive skin underneath. A contented sigh pulls from your slightly gaped mouth as his tongue darts out to leave trails along that soft spot on your chest above your breasts. Your arms affectionately cradle his head to you as your fingers comb through the amber-colored locks of his hair that are forever-embedded with faint hints of woodsmoke.

It is such a blissful moment as you feel each other wrapped in the other’s arms, held so close that every inch of you is heightened and yearning for more.

Arthur eventually rolls you to lay you down, his own body pinning the side of yours to the ground. Your leg lifts to intertwine with his as your arms slot under his own like a puzzle piece as he deepens the passion with hungry lips and curious hands. Closing your eyes only enhances the extension of his touch as he continues. Everywhere Arthur’s fingers and lips graze, the sensation bursts forth to travel the entire scope of your body.

He eventually sits up on his knees, straddling your right leg, to pull at the strings of your skirt. He’s trying not to get impatient when his giant fingers fumble with the ties. But quick enough, the waistline comes loose and Arthur’s fingers hook underneath and slowly pull the fabric back to expose your hips, and all their glory in between, before showcasing your legs.

Arthur’s hand comes up to cover his mouth in awe as he takes in the sight of you lying naked beneath him. Slightly embarrassed under his heated gazed, you instinctively pull your legs up a bit, curling in on yourself like a potato bug to try to hide from the exposure. Upon seeing your reaction, Arthur gives you a reassuring smile and leans overtop of you to protectively shield you from the world outside the shelter. His hand caresses your face, a gesture so gentle that belies his gruff exterior.

“You are so beautiful, you know that?” he whispers to you, kissing your temple. But Arthur’s compliment only makes your cheeks turn as red as the fire outside as you hide your face into his bare chest.

“Stop it”, you mumble into his muscles, self-conscious of his praise.

“Oh, so it's okay for you to say nice things, but not me?” he teases with that gruff baritone voice. “I see how it's gonna be.”

“You deserve to hear it more than I do.” Your voice is small and humble, averting your eyes from his as you roll your fingertips around his chest hair.

“Bullshit. If that ain’t the biggest lie I ever heard…”, his nose nudging against yours before encompassing your mouth with his own again.

Arthur carefully moves to crawl completely over you. Both of you are shaking slightly, but it's not from the chill night air. His movements are slow at first, terrified of hurting you physically or offending you with his pent up lust. His hands begin to roam more freely over your skin, which is softer than he ever dreamed.

Now that he finally has you, Arthur is eager to see every bit of you. His lips kiss over the faint lines and stretch marks that occasionally decorate your skin. His fingertips trace them first as he discovers every bit of you. His attention eventually lands on the soft swell of your breasts, which he caresses before clamping his hot mouth over the nipple, his tongue flicking and swirling over the highly-sensitive skin. You softly hum as your hands find their way to come up again to finger through his hair, your nails dragging slightly across his scalp before lightly grabbing onto the thick waves.

Your image, your shape, gets burned into Arthur’s brain as he continues his line of kisses and fingertrails all over your body: every curve, every freckle, even the soft roll of your stomach and hips. Everywhere Arthur touches makes you melt, as his hands are hot like the sun from his own want mixed with his nervousness.

Your heat is so sensitive as his hand carefully drops to caress it, causing you to jump slightly with a whimper. His fingertips linger around your soft mound until they dance along the delicate folds, already slick with want as you buck slightly into his hand, panting hotly into his mouth. His face now hovers so close to yours, close enough for his eyelashes to tickle your skin, as he gently slips a digit into you. Your spine arches back at the sensation of it, a breathless moan escaping your kiss-swollen lips and your toes begin to curl in pleasure.

Arthur watches your reaction carefully as he pumps his finger into you. Your eyes roll back as your chin lifts, your mouth sharply sucking in air. Your hand desperately reaches out to grasp his bicep with desire. Your eyes open again to meet his gaze, burning into each other with such intensity. His hand moves faster, adding a second digit now, and curls them to rub that certain spot so perfectly. The sensation draws the most beautiful moan from your lips. It is a sound that almost makes Arthur weep.

Suddenly, the realization of what’s about to happen hits him. What if he’s not good enough? What if you reject him after this? What if he hurts you? What if this ruins the one good thing he has in his life? Arthur pauses in his worship of you, retracting from between your legs for a moment. His hand graces over your forehead as his thumb lingers at the corner of your eyebrow.

“Are you sure this is what you want, (Y/N)?” His eyes crease with concern as he searches yours, not 100% sure if he should continue. “We don’t have to do this right now.”

But you are getting restless. You’ve been pushed to the limit in body, mind, and soul by this man and it is time to put an end to your longing. You cup Arthur’s face again with a look of seriousness settling across your features as you are afraid that maybe he is having second thoughts after all.

Your (y/e/c) eyes burn into his with such intensity and longing. “I only want you, Arthur. Of that, I am certain.”

Arthur inhales deeply, weighing the possible consequences. “If this is too much, you need to tell me. Promise?”

You lift up slightly and give him a chaste kiss upon his plump lips. “I promise.”

Giving a faint smile in acceptance, Arthur pulls away from you. He carefully stands up again, stooping slightly in the small shelter, and begins to unbuckle his pants. With no union suit on today, his remaining layers of clothing are quick to come off. His hardened cock springs forth from its confines as he bends to shuck the pants and boots from his legs.

You watch him intently, taking in the vision of him. Arthur truly is a beautiful specimen of a man. You have patched him up multiple times after jobs and fights, and of course there was that time when you accidentally stumbled upon him bathing in the river, so you have seen him before. But now you are free to observe his body, to truly take in the sight of him and appreciate the man standing before you.

Of course, he is muscular, his arms and thighs thick from years of hard labor. His entire body is littered with hair, but not in an unpleasant way. Now that he is completely naked in front of you, even more scars are made known to you. You notice old knife wounds on his thighs and an old white scar creeping up along his shin. He almost resembles a ragdoll, one that is tattered and has been stitched back together over time.

Arthur tosses his pants to the side and looks down at you, hesitating when he notices how keenly you gaze at him. Seeing his look of concern, you sit up to run your hands up his thighs and reach over his abdomen, making the mental note of how his bodyhair trials downward towards the V between his legs. When your face tilts upwards towards his, he leans in for another impassioned kiss before gently pushing you back down and settling himself between your legs.

Arthur shifts between your hips, getting his knees and elbow set. Caging you underneath him, he begins to rock back and forth causing his whole body to rub against yours. The rhythmic motion lulls you into a relaxed state like no other. You can feel his cock beginning to twitch as it pushes against your heat as if begging for attention. You hear him hiss slightly under his breath, fighting to keep his composure before he loses all self control. The sound makes you moan and mewl on your own accord.

Finally, it’s at the point where Arthur just can’t wait any longer, and neither can you by the way you're grasping and whining at him. He reaches down between you to line himself up and pushes himself into you so gently. Your hand immediately shoots out to his shoulder, bracing yourself. He's well-endowed between his legs and he knows it. Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze as he stretches you so wonderfully below, causing you to lightly gasp. He watches your face as you wince slightly, letting out a brief whimper as he pushes. He's trying to be so mindful of your comfort, knowing he's going to fully bury himself into you to the hilt.

"You alright?" Arthur cautiously asks as he grabs and hooks his arm under your leg, lifting it up and over his hip to open you up more to him.

"Yes", you pant out, smiling sweetly and lifting your face up to kiss him gently again. He takes a brief moment to get himself adjusted and then begins to move, causing your breathing to be heavy in his ear. He pushes his cock all the way into you, grunting at the heavenly sensation of it, before retracting again. He moves so slowly at first, but then begins to move at a steady pace. The experience is so utterly amazing to you both as you can feel every inch of each other in the most intimate of ways.

He begins to pump himself in and out as your whole body moves with him. You hook your arm around Arthur’s wide shoulders and neck while the other hand has a tight grasp onto his bicep, fingers digging into the muscles there. After a few moments, he wants to ask again if you're okay, but when your mouth falls open and he hears the words, "damn, Arthur" whispered into his ear, he knows his answer.

But you can still see the apprehension in Arthur’s face; feel it in his fingers as he touches you. He buries his face into your neck and holds you so tightly as his hips find their place in a steady rhythm between yours. Yet Arthur is still so hesitant, still holding back from you as if nervous.

"Arthur…I need you," your whisper to him barely audible.

“You're sure about this?” he asks again, lifting his face from your neck to look into yours. “I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, (Y/N), after everything and all.” Arthur sweetly searches for any misgivings, for any sign that you are not ready for this next step.

“I want all of you, Arthur," your voice yearning with desire as you cup his face again. You are so touched that this sometimes-brutal man can be so careful with you, especially in this situation. "It’s okay. I’m tougher than you think." You give him a little nod as his favorite little smile graces your lips once more.

And just like that, that confirmation is all that Arthur needs as he suddenly crashes into your lips, hot and all consuming this time. His thrusts instantly become deep and steady as his hips begin to snap sharply into yours with the ferocity of a caged beast that has been released back into the wild. And you gasp in the most satisfied way as you give in to him.

“That’s it,” you pant, praising him as you wrap your one leg around his waist to pull him deeper into you, while using the other to stabilize yourself against his force and push yourself up to receive him.

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to give in to his long-denied desires and lose himself completely, drowning in his senses. He didn’t realize just how empty his soul was until you were there to fill it again. And you are more than happy to be the one to provide that comfort to him. It’s the simplest, yet most selfless thing that you could offer him with your humble existence.

Arthur used to think that he just wanted to disappear sometimes, to get lost from everyone and everything in the world. But what he realizes is that all he’s ever wanted was to be truly found. And clinging to him, you are just as desperate as Arthur is. Loneliness isn’t something just for an outlaw. You wrap yourself up into him, into his arms, against his barrel chest which is heaving and trying to catch the air for the lungs within as he moves faster and faster on top of you.

“Don’t let me go." Your plea wafts into his ear as tears form in the corners of your eyes as the weight of everything that you've been through and everything you've been waiting for, finally comes to a culmination.

”Never” is all he manages to murmur in response, not even sure if you hear him.

The feeling of Arthur on top of you, of him inside of you, is so wonderfully overwhelming and electric. The fullness of him inside you, his rough hands on your skin, his soft lips nipping at your jawline, and his hot breath on your neck, it’s all as if lightning has hit you and is traveling throughout your entire body. Your skin is buzzing with the exquisite sensation, acutely aware of even his chest hair as it drags and rubs against your sensitive breasts as he moves.

Arthur grabs onto your hip again, digging his fingertips into the soft flesh there. There will be slight bruising there for sure later, but neither of you are in any frame of mind to acknowledge or care right now. His cock continues to ram into you, hitting the back of your walls as his girth stretches you so wonderfully. His thrusts are sharp and hard, more desperate than harsh, chasing you, as if you’ll vanish from him in moments like the sun burning the morning fog away.

It is a good thing that your first time together is out and away from anyone else in camp. It gives you both the opportunity to explore and appreciate each other properly. But it also allows you to be free and unrestricted, as the sounds of your lovemaking burst forth in waves of moaning, squeals, and grunting, only getting louder and louder with each cascading wave of building ecstasy.

Looking down at you, Arthur never thought he’d see you like this: flushed and pupils blown, your mouth fallen open and making the most incredible noises in his ear. In all the time he's watched you from afar and sketched your image to keep privately for himself, Arthur never dreamed it could be like this. He looks down at himself pounding into you, watching how your body shudders with each stroke. Like a musician playing a fiddle, you move and moan with his fingers. Your chest heaves while your back arches at an almost inhuman angle, desperate to receive more of him. It makes him want you even more. It's crazy how your body responds in perfect union to his. Every time you moan his name in broken syllables and wanton whispers, Arthur shudders and groans even more as it is a confirmation that you are really here for him and only him. And like a selfish child, he wants you all to himself.

The two of you form a beautifully ungraceful knot of limbs and noises, hard to tell where one of you begins and the other ends. Arthur rocks into your hips like a wave on the ocean, repeatedly surging and retreating. Your hands wrap under his arms to grip the planes of his back as your fingers dig into the hard muscle there, clawing for a handhold. You draw your knee up, causing your hips to open wider and granting Arthur more access to your core before your heels dig into the backs of his thighs. And in reaction to your movements, he swallows each of your gasps with his mouth, hungry for you. He winds his hand up into your hair again, pulling slightly to tip your chin back to expose the delicate area of your throat and allowing him to claim what is his with a twinkle of pure delight in his eyes. Your mouth opens up into a soundless scream, an airless breath that fights to escape your chest. And all the while, you are completely absent of coherent thought. Your mind is taken over by the feel of Arthur completely encompassing you.

This goes on for what seems like hours, as time seems to stand still. For the first time in forever, this feels different for both of you. You cling to Arthur as if your life depends on it because maybe it does. Arthur is the very air you breathe. But that is okay, because he clings to you just the same. The two of you lie there, skin against skin, yet you still try to pull each other even closer. It's a wonder that either of you can move at all for how tightly you hold each other. But it's because you move in perfect unison together that you are able to make it work so heavenly.

In this beautiful moment, nestled in the thick of the forest and caressed by the darkness of the night, yet kissed by the glow of a fire, you and Arthur give in to each other so completely and so deeply, each finding that missing piece in each other to make you both whole once more. He is the strength that you so desperately need, and you are the hope and humanity that he lost so long ago.

Lightning begins to build in your abdomen as your climax is soon to come. You can’t even form words to tell him, but Arthur can tell by how much faster you're panting and squirming beneath him. Your hot breath dances across Arthur’s neck as your bottom teeth drag along his earlobe, causing an almost animalistic grunt to erupt from him.

Now it’s your turn to dig your fingers with bruising pressure as your fingernails begin to cut into the flesh of his strong back, holding onto him desperately while the crescendo builds between your legs. You throw your head back with a loud and overwhelmed moan the moment it hits, stars clouding your vision as your climax comes hard with full force like a tidal wave. Arthur stares at you, mesmerized, as his hand comes up to cradle your face as if he’s trying to actually catch the feeling of it into his palm. He is utterly amazed by you. He can’t remember when, or even if, he’s seen a woman react to his touch like this.

And with this sight, Arthur is soon to follow you. Moaning loudly, his eyes shoot wide before screwing tightly shut again to brace himself for the impending sensation about to rock his entire body. And the intensity of his orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks. Arthur quickly reaches up to fist your hair again as he pulls himself out of you just in time to release between your thighs. The muscles of his entire body tense up and restrict, clamping down tightly onto your body underneath him. His breathing becomes staggered and jagged as he sputters to catch his breath.

Arthur has a split second of panic as he pulls out of you, not sure if he has timed himself properly. He almost doesn’t make it because he can barely pry himself from your reflexive grasp to move. Aside from the obvious precautions against pregnancy, Arthur doesn't want to offend you by assuming he could release inside of you.

Arthur remains motionless for a few moments, still trying to catch his breath from his own orgasm, before his bear-like frame collapses onto you. You notice how sweetly his legs and arms tremble as he tries not to crush you beneath him. His face returns to the crook of your neck, panting hot breath onto your sweat-glistening skin. The cool night air is a blessing as a slight breeze chases away the excessive heat that radiates off of your naked bodies. You slowly drag your fingers up the valley of his spine, dancing along the back of his neck and into his hair as the feather-light touch of your fingers causes him to shudder again. You let out a satisfied moan as you flex your fingers into his sweat-damp hair.

Arthur eventually pulls himself up onto his elbows to look you in the face again and is relieved to be greeted by the softest of smiles. You place your hand along his cheek again, just as you did before, and lift up to pepper his face with sweet kisses along his jaw and his cheek and over his eyelids and nose.

Carefully, Arthur rolls off of you and onto his left side, but keeps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he moves. He reaches over you to grab his neckerchief that was discarded earlier and uses it to gently clean your legs and then himself before tossing it aside once more.

Laying there wrapped up into each other’s arms, you forget that the rest of the world exists. You stare into each other's eyes, soaking up the reality of what has just happened between you, as your hand floats up to nestle your fingertips in between the pectoral muscles of his chest. There is a new sense of depth to Arthur’s ocean-blue eyes, a calmness that you haven’t seen before. Arthur studies your face, taking in the way the firelight catches in your irises and mapping the curvature of your lips that he has to fight the urge to kiss again and again.

“So now what?” Arthur asks, finally breaking the blissful silence.

You release a hum of contented exhaustion as you smile at him. "This doesn’t have to be anything that you don’t want it to be, Arthur. Although I’m really hoping it goes past this moment."

“I gotta be honest, (Y/N), I haven’t done this in a long time. I...I don’t know if I can.” He draws his lips inward, biting down slightly as he’s embarrassed to tell you this, worried you’ll reject him here and now.

“But what you don’t realize, Arthur, is that’s where you have me at a disadvantage,” you tell him with a voice so soft and gentle. “At least you’ve had love before. I’ve never been fortunate enough to have what you had, even if it was only for a brief window of time.” You lovingly reach over and run the pads of your fingers over his lips and chin. A lop-sided grin dusts your face as you study him for a moment. “You are capable of so much more than you know, Arthur. I can’t wait for the day that you realize that.”

Arthur hums in contemplation, averting his eyes for a moment as the corners of his mouth lift a bit. His fingertips roll over the delicate skin of your back as your words embed themselves into his mind.

“I don’t want anything from you, Arthur. I just simply want you.” Your breathy voice carries your warm proclamation, assured with the glinting look that you give him.

“This could go so wrong, you know,” he warns, his eyebrows knit with concern as his gaze meets yours once again.

“True. But, it could go so right, too,” you counter with a smirk. “This could be the best thing to happen to either of us, Arthur." You reach over again and gracefully run your fingers through his hair before cupping his cheek again as your thumb gently swipes over his bottom lip. "And I think you’re worth the risk.”

Arthur runs his hand along your back and over your hips, taking in all of your beautiful words. He thinks he is just so ordinary. Or maybe not even that. But to you, he is extraordinary, vast and breathtaking like the bluest sky over the valley. And he can see it in your eyes when you look at him and it makes it hard for him to breathe.

“Do you have any idea what you do to a man?”, he finally smirks, his eyebrows arching questioningly at you.

A coy smile dances upon the petals of your lips in return. “Don’t care about other men. Just you.”

That affirmation causes Arthur’s heart to soar higher than the stars sparkling in the sky above you, and he surges forward and into your lips again. He doesn’t want this moment to end, but only to fold the two of you up into it forever. You smile and hum into Arthur's mouth as his tongue pushes over yours again and again as you can feel his confidence building with each caress of his strong hands across your body.

When you feel him harden against your legs again, you take advantage of the opportunity and gently push the man over to climb on top of him. Your hair falls to create an intimate curtain, housing your two faces so sweetly as you catch Arthur’s lips with your own. You pull away from his mouth and begin to place kisses along his neck and over his shoulder. The thin blanket that Arthur had wrapped around the two of you slowly falls away to expose your naked body to the cool night air once more, causing goosebumps to prickle your skin.

Using one hand to steady yourself, you use the other to explore Arthur’s muscled chest, rolling over the chest hair that decorates his weathered skin. Playing on both angles, you draw your leg up along Arthur’s body, running your knee and leg along his side, while simultaneously moving your hand and lips down his thick torso. The full body caress makes Arthur’s whole body come to life. His body is used to hardship and blows; to be abused and pushed to the limits of its capabilities. Certainly not this type of coveted affection and touching that you are providing him now.

Arthur’s head rolls back with a moan as he is now the one being taken care of. His head thumps back against your make-shift pillow with a soft ‘thud’ sound as his hands land on your shoulders, massaging the muscle there between his strong fingers as you travel downward along his body. Your trail of kisses leads you down to his hips as your hair feathers out over his abdomen.

His breath suddenly hitches as he quickly looks down as you hover over his cock. You look up at him and meet his gaze, before you duck back down, gently taking his large cock into your hand. Arthur’s eyes go wide then immediately heavy-lidded as the heat from your mouth envelops his tip before slowing working down the thickness of his shaft.

You have only done this a few times before now, and Arthur is much larger than you're used to. But desire is a wonderful motivator. Your head starts to bob slowly at first before picking up a faster pace. Using your hand, you're able to take him entirely into your mouth without gagging. Your tongue wraps around the shaft before teasingly flicking at the tip. The muscles of your mouth firmly encompass his cock, creating the most blissful sensation of pressure and suction as you pull up and down. You can hear the hissing and moaning sounds the man is making and it only increases your confidence in your performance, and you change your technique to elicit the specific sound you desire from his trembling lips.

Right now, you only want to take care of Arthur; to make him feel good and show him the attention that he so rightfully deserves. And yet, the idea that you could hold this strong and fearsome outlaw hostage in the palm of your hand is incredible. This position also gives you the opportunity to take note of just how large Arthur is. It’s little wonder how he was able to pull such an intense orgasm from the depth of your body just moments ago. The very memory of it causes your own desires to ramp up, as your heat begins to tingle and get wet between your legs again.

Once Arthur is at the point that he is rock-hard again, you slowly remove his cock from your mouth with a soft “pop” and gently rise-up to place yourself on top of him. Arthur watches you, captivated, as you crawl over him like an animal stalking its prey, and slowly rock back and forth, rubbing yourself against him. He’s tempted to take himself in hand, line himself up with your heat and push up into you again. But he’s too transfixed by your dominance at the moment to do anything but watch you move atop of him.

As if reading his mind, you smirk and you lift up a bit more, wrapping your hand around his rigid cock to guide yourself as you lower onto him, moaning softly and biting down on your lip as his size fills you up yet again. Your head drops back, hair cascading down your back, as you start to slow-grind on him in a hypnotic rhythm.

Finally able to pull his mind out of its lust-drunk fog, Arthur runs his hands up the front of your thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the plush skin there. He snakes one hand along your stomach and up into the valley between your breasts as the other hand lands on your hip, his fingers digging slightly to help hold the pace you are setting. Letting you take the lead this time allows Arthur to take in the sight of you as you straddle his hips with your own.

You're not perfect. But it’s your imperfections that make you perfect to Arthur. It really is as if you are made for each other. You have curves, for sure. You're not as small as some of the other girls in camp, but you fit into Arthur’s large hands perfectly. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to break you as if you are a porcelain doll. Your individual features are pleasant for sure, but taken in as a whole, you are striking. At least to Arthur you are.

He savors the touch of your soft skin against his which is rough and weathered; how the large orbs of your adoring eyes are looking down at him right now, and how you so generously take him into yourself. You are beautiful, you are kind…and you are his. And the two of you can’t get enough of each other.

For you, you had been so worried that what happened in Rosewood would have ruined you. And it almost did. But you didn’t want that act of depravity to define you. And you pulled from the common adversity of your new family to help rebuild your spirit like a phoenix rising from the ashes. And if that hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be here now, like this. With Arthur.

If it were anyone else touching you like this, you’d probably curl up into a ball, retracting into yourself in fear or self-loathing. But with Arthur, you feel safe and shielded as if no one else in the world would, or could, touch you.

Arthur is different and you’ve always known it by the way he makes you feel, even when he simply speaks to you. He is warm and instantly feels familiar to you, like he has always been the other half of yourself. He feels solid and secure to your touch and almost makes you feel drunk with emotions that can’t even be named. The best feeling in the whole world is to be with someone who wants you just as much as you want them.

It's amazing how life works sometimes. Some people always have the sunshine in life while others always seem to get the rain. But sometimes, you really do need to suffer through the storm to see the magic of the rainbow at the end of it.

As you continue to ride him, Arthur can see and feel both of you rapidly approaching your conjoined climax again as he can feel the velvet walls of your heat clenching around his twitching cock inside of you. As you begin to move even faster, you take your hands off of where you've been holding on to Arthur’s forearms and lean over him to plant them on his shoulders. This angle gives you more leverage to grind Arthur even deeper into yourself, if that’s even possible. Harder, faster. Deeper than you thought possible, until you feel as if he’s up into your ribcage. Arthur reciprocates by bucking his hips up into yours with each stroke, causing you to gasp as the breath is taken right out of your lungs with the feel of it. And it’s shortly thereafter that you both start to grasp at each other again, bracing for the overstimulation about to hit.

Your climax is intense and hits first again. A sharp moan erupts from your lips as your head instantly snaps backwards. And as your muscles begin to go limp as you come down, Arthur grabs you and takes control, sitting up slightly to wrap his strong arms around you, and rides you through the surge of it.

Watching your eyes roll back into your head with a strained cry, he is quick to hit his own climax and swiftly lifts you up to pull himself out of you again. He pitches you forward, causing your trembling arms to brace yourself against him as he spills his seed along your conjoined thighs once more. It’s a good thing Arthur has a hold of you, too, as you are completely undone at this point, your whole body seemingly boneless. You roll your head to the side and close your eyes before leaning forward to collapse against his chest.

You both lay there for some time, motionless except for your heaving chests. Arthur’s massive arms encircle you to hold you tight to him as you curl up onto the plane of his chest, your fingers clutching at him. Eventually, you shift to lower yourself to lay along Arthur’s side. You turn into him and snuggle your face into his chest as your hand rests across his heart which you can feel beating like crazy beneath your palm. You absentmindedly rake your fingers through his chest-hair and lift your leg up and over to entwine with his, still trying to keep as close to him as possible.

Smiling slightly at the feeling of your warm body against his, Arthur pulls the blanket around you again to cover your naked body as it drapes over his own. He lays his hand atop of yours that rests on his chest and wraps his other arm around you to cradle you back into him, his hand tangling in your hair as he holds your head.

And here in this perfect little moment of satiated bliss, Arthur is happy.

“We could have done this a long time ago, you know,” you snicker as you roll your eyes up to look at him.

“Hmmm, don’t I know it. Remind me next time to listen to you, would ya?” He pulls his rough fingers along your spine and up over your bare shoulders, still fascinated by how soft your skin is.

“It’s like I told you before, Arthur: you look out for me, I’ll look out for you,” you say drowsily, as sleep is about to take over your worn-out senses. And within moments, you are asleep.

When you go silent and the only sound he hears is the crickets in the night, Arthur looks down at your form, curled up into him like a kitten and almost as fragile looking as one, too. He runs his fingertip along your shoulder again, admiring how the appendage curves. And as he watches you in your euphoric slumber, his mind starts to wander now that it’s quiet and his wits are about him once more.

It is amazing how this person who was once a total stranger to him can suddenly, and without warning, mean the world to him. You are everything Arthur has ever dared to hope for. And somehow, by some miracle, you have graced him with your affection. And Arthur knows it now: time, distance, background - nothing could separate you two. This is real and this is right. Arthur understands now that you are the person that he was always meant to find, and he is unimaginably captivated by you.

In the quiet night air, now that the symphony of moans and panting are done, the only sound carrying through the still night air is the popping of the fire as it dies down. The faint noise of a hooting owl in the trees can be heard off in the distance. Left to his own thoughts, Arthur’s reason and self-doubt begin to creep up again, but it’s only for a moment. Spreading like black ink, Micah’s words ring through his mind : if Arthur really cared for you, he’d save you the heartache and keep you safe from him and the trouble that someone like him brings.

But now, Arthur doesn’t think he could ever do that even if he tried. Selfishly, now that he has you, he doesn’t want to let you go. It would be like taking the air from his lungs or the blood from his heart. Arthur is all-consumed by you now. He could die tomorrow and he'll be a happy man.

What if he doesn’t run this time, but stays and lets your affection for him, possibly even love, overtake him? Arthur never fathomed that even something as simple as the sound of your voice could ever calm his soul like you have.

So instead of the foolish notion to leave you in order to protect you, Arthur determines he’s going to do everything in his power to keep you safe and protected in his care. He is your guardian, and you are his angel.

As he comes to this conclusion, Arthur’s powerful arms involuntarily tighten around you as if someone was going to come and take you away from him. He leans down and places an ever-so soft kiss on the top of your head, causing you to shift even closer into him in your sleep.

“I got you, baby-girl. I got you”, he whispers.

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

Several hours go by and you slowly wake from your blissful slumber to the sound of chirping birds in the air. The lightening sky of soft lavender and subdued pinks washes over the landscape and creeps its way into the hunting shelter, intruding upon the blissful solitude where you and Arthur are still tucked away.

The last few plumes of smoke from the dying fire slowly waft through the air. Both of you must have been worn out from your passionate love-making as you are both in the same position as when you fell asleep in each other's arms. The slightly damp, cool breeze of the morning blows across your exposed shoulder, causing you to stir. You slowly stretch and curl into a tighter ball around the bulk of the man beneath you. You inhale deeply as your muscles flex and you instantly catch his scent. The smell of leather and cigarettes, mixed with a bit of clove from his soap, fills your nose. It instantly makes you smile in your hazy sleep, remembering where you are and that this is indeed not a dream.

Arthur refused to sleep much overnight, keeping a watchful eye on you as you slept, but he did end up dozing lightly here and there. When he feels you move against his bare skin, warm and soothing, he peels open his blue-green eyes with a sleepy grunt and peers down at you.

“Hey you,” he murmurs softly as he runs his thumb across your temple. You smile, inhaling deeply again, taking a moment to appreciate where you are before you reply with your own sleep-hushed “Hey you”.

“We’re gonna have to get goin’ here soon, little miss. Dutch ain’t gonna be too happy if we’re out much longer.” Arthur’s voice is thick with sleep and, of course, carrying with it the reluctant tone to enforce what he's saying.

You groan in disappointment, burying your face back into him as you shuffle a bit as your limbs slowly awaken once more. “You sure that’s the way you want to go?” you ask coyly, as you start to leave kisses on Arthur’s chest while seductively drawing circles on his skin with your fingertip.

“Aw c’mon, you’re killin’ me,” he whines, causing you to giggle mischievously. Arthur wraps you up into his arms and squeezes tightly before relaxing again. When you’re able to lift your head, you reach up to pull his face to yours and plant a soft, yet very intimate kiss on his lip. Your eyes create that dreamy, longing stare again as you look up into his face and run your knuckles along his cheek.

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, you know that?” Arthur raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I know.” With a quick kiss to his nose, you slowly sit up and stretch, looking around for your clothes with a sigh of disappointment. “But I suppose you’re right. We should get going.”

Arthur reluctantly sits up as well, leaning over to kiss your naked shoulder as he runs his hand slowly down your back, his touch tickling your skin. Your eyes slowly float closed as you turn your head into his, trying to savor every last bit of time you have alone together.

“Trust me, Darlin’, I’d stay out here with you forever if I could,” he mumbles into your skin as his nose and lips smoosh into your shoulder as if trying to melt the two of you together.

“Yeah, yeah, promises, promises,” you joke as you roll over to grab your blouse and skirt. Arthur sees the perfect opportunity and playfully smacks your exposed butt, pulling a slight squeak from your lips.

But soon enough, the two of you get yourselves together. You reluctantly pull apart from one another long enough to pack up the few things you had brought with you in your hasty departure yesterday and prepare to leave the little hunting lean-to and head back to camp. The sun has awakened as well at this point and begins to shine down, its beams freckling through the tree branches. It is a gloriously beautiful morning and you look upon it with a whole new sense of wonder and happiness in your heart.

As you shake out the blanket and roll it up in your hands, Arthur stands hesitantly behind you, watching you gracefully move as you tuck the last bit of things onto Buck’s saddle. Noticing him out of the corner of your eye, you turn and give him a curious look. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine. Just rolling the last 12 hours around in my head," he mumbles, swirling his hand in the air by his temple. "It’s hard to believe what just happened.” Arthur smiles sheepishly, rubbing his hand along his chin as he thinks about his current situation.

So much has changed in the last few days, let alone hours. From the fighting between you, to his ride to Rosewood; from the confessions to the embrace. And of course, the beautiful night you’ve just spent together. The river of emotions have weighed heavily on Arthur, leaving him delightfully overwhelmed and uncharacteristically content.

You beam with sparkling eyes as you take a few steps over to him. “Well, now you can touch whenever you want to. That should be fun, yeah?” You reach your arms around his barrel-chest, squeezing him to you, and lift your face upwards to start placing sweet kisses along his face and neck.

"Whatcha doin?” Arthur asks cautiously, a suspicious eyebrow raised, but one that belies the grin creeping across his bearded face.

“Just lovin' up on you again,” you giggle into his neck. "Something tells me you're past due and I got a lot of time to make up for."

A low hum rumbles from deep in his chest as Arthur folds you up against him, squeezing you into a strong embrace in return. He collects your beautiful face into his giant hands and leans down to kiss you deeply. Your breath rolls over each other’s as you indulge your senses yet again. Once more, the rest of the world falls away the moment your lips touch. The feeling leaves your knees weak and you have to fight the urge to push it farther as your arms tighten around his torso and begin to creep up his back.

When he pulls back again, Arthur looms over you, looking down into your face and admiring the precious gift he’s holding in his hands. He gives a slight shake to his head, absolutely blown away by his dumb-luck and how he’s managed to fall ass-backwards into your life. Arthur stares at you for a moment, those vivid blue eyes of his bright with a whole new purpose behind them as you reflect back to him the most resplendent smile he has ever seen.

“Mine,” he whispers.

“Yours,” you respond breathlessly.

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

It is mid-morning by the time you and Arthur make your way back to camp. You’re not too sure of what you’ll come back to, but prepare yourselves for the teasing and cat-calls you’re sure are coming. Thankfully, though, it’s mostly knowingly smirks and waves that greet you. A slight wave of relief settles over you at that, as you are not sure how Arthur would react to such personal teasing. Despite the connection that the two of you have, he is still very much a private person.

You both get Arthur’s horse taken care of, offer your apologies to a very agitated Blue for being left behind, and then head over to Pearson’s wagon to get some much-needed coffee. The camp is relatively quiet this morning, with a few members milling about with their own agendas. The slight breeze waffs the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee in your direction and pulls you like a tether. You inhale deeply, your eyes briefly rolling shut, and smile with the feeling of “being home”. This little moment is so perfect: a beautiful morning, surrounded by friends, hot coffee on the fire, and your man at your side.

“There’s the love-birds,” Pearson chimes loudly with a wink when he notices you and Arthur. The cook stirs the last remnants of breakfast in his pot, clanging the utensil loudly on the side to shake off whatever coats the spoon. The portly man quickly puts down the ladle and grabs the coffee pot and a few cups for you.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Arthur, waving him off as his face turns a slight shade of pink. You simply smile and gratefully take the cup from Pearson’s hand. A quick, eager sip of the hot, bitter liquid cascades down your throat, warming you from the inside out and a soft “Ahhhh” escapes your lips. And before the two of you can do anything else, you are greeted by the sound of Dutch’s voice carrying through the air.

“Well, well, nice of you two to join us again!”

You and Arthur both turn to see Dutch and Hosea approach and notice Hosea holding a few rolls of paper in his hands.

“Are you two done foolin’ around so we can get some work done around here?” asks Dutch, raising his eyebrows at you both in impatience with a slight wave of his arm.

“For now,” you quip back. “But I was hoping to fool around a bit again before dinner”. You give Dutch a cocky smirk and a wink.

Hosea's face wrinkles delightfully as he tries to stifle a laugh while Arthur lowers his head to hide a huge smile under the brim of his hat at your insinuation. But the look on Dutch’s face is anything but amused by your comment right now.

“Not in the mood. Right,” you say awkwardly under Dutch’s impatient glare, clearing your throat and quickly minding your place. “I’ll just...go somewhere over there.” You wave your hand dismissively towards the center of the camp before turning to Arthur. “I’ll see you later, Arthur,” you giggle.

Placing your hand on his arm, you give it a slight squeeze along with a big smile. He gives you a quick nod before you quickly scurry away from the men. Arthur’s eyes continue to follow after you, landing on the curve of your rear as you walk away, instantly missing your presence. He reluctantly turns back to Dutch only to be met with the older man’s stink-eye look.

“What?” asks Arthur innocently, chuckling a little.

Dutch plants his ringed hands onto his hips in annoyance, tilting his head to the side just a bit as he looks at Arthur. “This is going to get really old, really fast, isn’t it?” asks Dutch with an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, leave him alone, Dutch. He’s finally got a good thing goin’ there for himself,” interrupts Hosea approvingly with a knowing grin on his face. “Now, come on you two. We need to go over these carrier routes.” Hosea waves the papers he’s been holding in front of them and motions to the nearest table with his head.

Leaving the three of them to their business, you take your cup of coffee and saunter over to the fire to take advantage of a rare quiet morning to relax. Noticing that you are back in camp, Abigail is quick to run up to you with a huge cheshire-cat-like smile sparkling on her face.

“Well, good morning, Miss (Y/L/N),” Abigail sings as she hustles over, shimmying up to you and elbowing your arm. “Soooo?” she questions you with a smirk.

But you playfully roll your eyes at her and shake your head as you take a seat next to the other girls who are already gathered around the fire and trying to wake up for the day. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell," you tease Abigail with a grin, demurely pulling your shoulder to your chin.

“Well, we know there was more than kissin’ going on last night, so why don’t you tell us about that then?” jokes Abigail, swatting your arm.

"So tell us, (Y/N)! How was it?" Karen blurts out eagerly. Her sleepy face instantly perks up the moment you sit down.

"Karen!" scolds Mary-Beth in a hushed tone. Judging by their snickering, you can only imagine that your departure last night has been the talk of the camp.

"What?” Karen protests innocently to Mary-Beth. “I'm genuinely curious.” She waves her hand nonchalantly towards you. “I wanna know if it was worth all the trouble and the wait.” When Mary-Beth gives nothing but a disapproving stare, Karen leans in to her and swats her friend’s leg. “Oh c'mon, like you ain't dyin' to know yourself," she hisses.

"Actually, I'm kind of curious about it myself," interjects Abigail, looking back to you with that same cat-like grin.

“Yeah, (Y/N), how’d it go?” asks Tilly, leaning forward in her chair and planting her elbows on her knees in keen interest.

It is so sweet to you how your friends want to share in your excitement. You’ve never had siblings, and even your friendships as a young girl were never as open and close as the relationships that you have quickly cultivated with these women. Your face begins to bashfully dust pink at their attention, yet you can’t help yourself as your smile gets even wider by the minute.

“Some of the best moments in life are the things that you can’t tell other people about,” you gush, yet still trying to be elusive.

“Oh, come on! That ain’t fair! You gotta give us somethin’!” begs Karen, smacking her hands on her thighs and leaning in towards you.

You simply reply with a long, mockingly-impatient sigh before your face turns a deeper shade of scarlet. You cover your face with your hands for a few moments before pulling them down to peek over your fingertips at your friends, blushing and giggling like a school-girl.

"It was...perfect," you say with a dreamy, love-drunk grin on your face.

“Ooooo” They all let out a collective excited giggle, elbowing each other and so happy for both you and for Arthur.

—------------------------------

Fortunately, it is a bit of a slow day today and Ms Grimshaw is not chasing after everyone to get back to work for once. So you are able to just sit and socialize with the girls. You pass the time sipping coffee and gossiping, discussing what the plans are for the day and watching Jack play “swords” with a stick with Uncle. It is a perfectly content afternoon for once.

Somewhere off to the side you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat before they approach your little group. You turn your head when movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and instantly grin ear to ear when you see that it is Arthur. The way your whole body lights up the moment that you see him makes Arthur instantly wish you were back at the hunting shelter. You’ve only been apart for a little over an hour and yet it already feels like days.

"Ladies", he addressed the group of you with a nod and polite touch to the brim of his hat.

"Hey, Arthur" they all giggle and smirk at the outlaw at their inside joke. You are quick to swat at them, trying to get them to hush.

"Uh...right.” His hand comes up behind his neck as he stands there awkwardly, suddenly a little uncomfortable with their smirking faces all turned to him. “(Y/N), can I talk to you for a minute?" He waves his hand to usher you away from the small group to speak in private.

“Sure.” You bounce up from your seat to follow him, turning back over your shoulder with a quick glare at your friends in warning to knock it off with the teasing cackles.

You and Arthur walk a few feet away from the girls before you stop and turn to face each other. "Don't mind them,” you say quickly to Arthur, waving at the girls. “They're just..." and you roll your eyes and shake your head, totally at a loss for words.

“Hmmm…yeah I know how they can get,” Arthur acknowledges with a chuckle. He pauses for a moment, looking down at you with a bit of a dopey grin. This is the first time you’ve had a moment alone together again since you’ve gotten back and he’s missed you already.

“Listen, I gotta leave for a bit. Hosea’s got a lead on some work, need to check it out. But I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His eyebrows raise a bit, waiting to see how you will react to this information.

“Okay”. You nod in understanding, giving him a simple smile. Your response is so easy and accepting. Arthur was expecting a protest or for you to be upset, but he’s pleasantly surprised when you are not.

“Well, after last night, I wasn’t sure if it was proper to leave.” He gives you a sheepish, guilty look as his thumbs tuck into his gunbelt in his usual, comfortable stance.

You place your hands over his arms as you lean in closer. “It’s alright. Go do what you gotta do. I’ll be here.”

Arthur hesitates for a moment as something else is clearly on his mind, and he shifts his weight from one hip to the other before he speaks again. “One more thing. Would you do something for me?” His eyes squint just a bit as he thinks on how to pose his next question.

“Anything.” You smile at him, moving your hands onto his chest now, and your fingers begin to fiddle with the knot of his neckerchief. Arthur hums a little, his eyes following your fingers and trying not to get distracted from his task at hand.

“Stay here in camp ‘til I get back, would ya? Don't be goin' out with the girls or nothin'. I’d feel better knowing you were safe here 'til I got back.” Arthur’s face becomes more serious now. You instantly realize what he’s asking of you and why, and his protectiveness is quite touching. You are relieved to see that Arthur has already taken to the idea of the two of you being “together” and it warms your heart.

“Sure, I can do that,” you agree and your smile grows even bigger like a plant that has been watered and set in the sun. You take Arthur’s chin in your fingers and pull him down as you raise up on your toes to kiss him sweetly. He blushes a bit at the public display of affection that he's not used to. But he loves it just the same.

"Be careful, please." You playfully scold him, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Always am," Arthur smirks.

From somewhere behind him, you can hear Bill yelling for him. “Come on Morgan, let’s go!” Arthur lets out an exasperated sigh as he looks at you, rolling his eyes before he turns to leave and making you giggle.

“Play nice!”, you call after him as Arthur begrudgingly walks away.

"Never do!" he calls back with another smirk and a wink at you over his shoulder.

Your eyes follow Arthur with a contented sigh escaping your lips as he walks towards the awaiting group that is about to head out. His broad shoulders rock slightly with his slow, swaggering walk; his burly arms sway at his sides, hovering above the guns that hang so naturally on his hips.

Yep. No doubt about it. You are just stupid for, and hopelessly in love with, this man.

You shake your head at the wonder of it all and turn to head back to the girls.

Arthur makes his way over to the hitching posts to join the others in getting ready to head out on the scout job. He lifts his chin in acknowledgement to John who is already sitting atop Old Boy, waiting for Arthur to join the group. Then suddenly Arthur is brought out of his reverie by an unwelcome sound.

“So you and (Y/N) have finally done the deed, eh, Morgan?” The sound of Micah’s voice grates on Arthur’s nerves like a knife scraping across metal as the man saunters over to follow Arthur to the horses. (Ugh, of course Dutch wants him for this job, as well.)

“Well, how was she?” the bastard grunts. “I bet she’s real frisky. Like a cat.” Micah shakes his eyebrows suggestively at Arthur, knowing full-well that he’s pressing his luck.

A lightning bolt of anger shoots through Arthur’s very being at the very mention of your name from Micah’s despicable lips. His jaw flexes tightly as he grits his teeth together. He reaches out and shoves his massive hand onto Micah’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. Arthur pulls a deep inhale through his nose in order to collect himself before he speaks. His eyes turn to that hard, icy-blue color as they pierce menacingly into Micah.

“Let’s get something straight right now.” Arthur points his finger at Micah’s chest. “You don’t talk about her. You don’t look at her. In fact, do yourself a favor and don’t even think about her. Or you and I are goin' to go rounds. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Arthur’s voice is low and unyielding. That hardness that the outlaw is known for rears its dangerous head in Micah’s direction and the weasel freezes, instantly knowing where that line in the sand has been drawn.

“Say it,” Arthur slowly grits out between clenched teeth as he menacingly towers over Micah. “Say you understand me, asshole.”

Micah narrows his eyes at Arthur, the argument right there on the tip of his foul tongue, trying to decide just how far he wants to push this right now. But ultimately, he slowly swallows and concedes to back off. For now.

“Sure, cowpoke,” utters Micah, holding his hands up in surrender. “Anything you say.” His scummy, snakelike grin leaves Arthur with an unsettling feeling. If he didn’t like you being around Micah before, Arthur sure as hell doesn't like it now.

—------------------------------

It’s well into the evening when Arthur and the others come back to camp. It’s been a long, yet productive day and Arthur just wants to sit still for one damn moment and relax. Everyone who was left at home is sitting around the fire sharing stories and passing a bottle or two. Your head perks up when you hear the sound of hoofbeats in the distance and you watch Arthur ride in. You notice how he slowly climbs down from Buck’s saddle, almost bone by bone, with exhaustion. As he turns to head into the camp, the outlaw’s tired eyes immediately seek you out amongst the group. And once your eyes meet, your smile draws him in like a moth to a flame.

Arthur stops to grab a bottle of his own out of one of the crates before ambling over to the fire to take a seat next to you on the ground where you are curled up on a blanket. You nudge your shoulder into his side as he gets settled, placing your hand on his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. The corners of Arthur’s mouth turn up as his eyes slowly blink at you with fatigue. The feeling of your warm body curled up against him instantly calms and centers him. He didn’t realize until now just how nice it is to have someone waiting for him when he comes home.

“Before you two get too cozy over there, you’re on guard duty tonight, Arthur,” announces Javier over the fire pit, interrupting your little private reunion.

Arthur quickly throws an annoyed look in Javier's direction. “What? You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“I covered for you last night, amigo” Javier tips his beer bottle towards Arthur with a knowing smirk.

Arthur groans with disappointment. Feeling his frustrations, you lean into Arthur’s side, your face close to his. “Don’t worry, it’s alright,” you whisper. “We’ll have plenty of time later.” Fortunately, you get at least an hour together to relax at the fire before Arthur has to take his leave to head to the look-out post.

Soon after, after the darkness has snuffed out the sunlight of the day, the camp begins to settle for the evening and the people begin to meander back to their respective places for the night. You stand up from your spot at the fire, stretching your stiff joints before bending over to pick up the blanket you were sitting on. Shaking out the fabric, you neatly fold the blanket over your arm and turn to head to your tent.

You haven’t wandered too far off when you begin to hear the shuffling of footsteps behind you. And before you can say or do anything, the sight of Micah Bell comes into your line of vision. Your eyebrows crease in confusion as you wonder what in the world he could possibly want right now.

“Looks like you and Arthur have finally "consummated", as it were. Tell me, (Y/N),” Micah sweeps his hand out in front of him, “Can anyone take a ride in that saddle?"

You can only glare incredulously at him for such an insinuation. God, he is such a disgusting pig. Apparently, Micah is not only going to antagonize Arthur about it, but he’s going to make an attempt at you as well.

"I mean, if you're gonna spread them pretty legs of yours for the likes of Morgan, can't imagine you got any high standards." Micah arrogantly drags his dirty fingers over his nicotine-stained mustache as if he is about to eat a delectable meal.

You slowly tilt your head at him, your gaze cold. "And that is what burns you up the most, isn't it, Micah?" Your eyes narrow at him, trying to figure out his angle as you play his little game.

Micah licks his lips and nibbles a bit, taking the bait in return. "What's that, Princess?"

"That I would concede to lay with a man like Arthur, yet I won't even give you the time of day.” You cross your arms over your chest as you hold his gaze in defiance. “That must really get to you, hmm?" you purr.

The smugness instantly drops from Micah’s face being replaced with a sneer. You step a few paces closer, right up into his face so that he can smell the lavender oil you wear. His eyes rake over your body, noting how your cleavage gathers under your crossed arms. He can feel your warm breath scattering across his face. Your boldness, your lack of fear of him, is as annoying to Micah as it is arousing. He sucks his teeth in an effort to regain his composure as he stands in front of you.

"Know this, Micah. Arthur Morgan is twice the man that you could ever even dream to be," you say with a chilling dead calm. "And in more ways than one, I might add.”

Micah’s mouth twitches at that last rub. "Well, (Y/N), I guess it's a good thing I ain't ever aspired to be more than I am, then." His tone challenges yours as he leans even closer to you, the tone in the air bordering on threatening.

"That is unfortunate," you say coolly as you confidently hold your ground. "For all of us. Good night, Mr. Bell." And you turn to head into your tent, leaving Micah standing there alone in the cold night air.

—----------------------------------

Arthur leans his shoulder against the large tree, staring out into the darkness of the woods. The moon is full tonight, looming high above the tree tops and cascading its bright silvery light upon the silent world below. He stands guard over the camp as a brooding sentinel as he slowly draws on yet another cigarette. Smoke huffs out of his lungs like that of a locomotive.

This is not the place he wants to be right now, as his thoughts drift and focus on you and your night together. Even now, as he recalls even the smallest detail of last night, it seems like a dream to him. He half expects to wake at any moment alone in his tent, surrounded by nothing but the lonesome night, as it all seems just too good to be true. He still has no explanation as to how you seem to pull him in, but you just do. Like that same silvery moon hanging above that pulls on the ocean tides, you draw Arthur to you; just as unyielding, unchanging, and just as magical.

Suddenly Arthur’s daydream is interrupted by the very person he’s thinking about. He catches a wisp of fabric in his peripheral vision. Turning his chin over his shoulder, Arthur sees you coming down the path. He watches as your breath swirls in the frosty air, preceding you as you approach. Like an ethereal being, the moon’s glimmer casts your hair in a soft backlight, causing your gown to be almost see-through in the luminescence as he can see the outline of your calves as you walk. Your delicate hand clasps your shawl around you in the chill air while you carry something else in your other hand. As you get closer, Arthur can see that you have come to bring him a steaming cup of coffee.

A huge smile instantly erupts across Arthur’s face as he pushes himself up off of the tree. "Hey there, Beautiful. What are you doin’ out here this late?"

The nickname causes your cheeks to burn red more than the chill night air that nips at your tender skin.

“Coming to see you.” You hand him the cup of coffee, which he gratefully accepts and immediately takes a sip. The hot liquid instantly chases the cold from his tired body and offers just the pick-up that he needed. “How’s it going out here?” you ask as you shiver a bit before pulling the knit shawl tighter around yourself.

“Oh, loads of excitement.” Arthur’s dead-pan drawl makes you laugh a bit.

You snuggle up to his bulky frame, putting your hands around his ribs and looking up into his face with your beautiful (y/e/c) eyes. With his free hand, Arthur snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. Despite the cold night air, he is so warm that you just want to curl up into him again like you did at the shelter. He leans in to kiss you, his plump lips finding yours once again. Starting off slowly, your tongue quickly begins to wrestle with his. He tastes like the cigarettes and whiskey he's been consuming while out here.

Dropping his chin, Arthur starts to kiss the tender skin underneath your ear before he proceeds to drag his fingertip along the area. “I love this spot,” he says, his voice a husky murmur in your ear..

“Do you, now?” you sigh with a silky tone of your own.

“MmmHmm. Because when I kiss it, you make that sound.” And he leans in again, placing another kiss in the same spot, only this time sucking a bit harder as his teeth catch your skin. And as if on command, a breathless whimper escapes your lips before you can control it and your eyes flutter closed again. It makes you melt at how playful he’s become just from simply providing him the opportunity and the feeling of being safe to do so.

After a few more moments of delicious kisses and nuzzling, you pull away just a bit, leaving your faces hovering close to one another's.

"I’d better get out of here," you whisper, "before I’m any more of a distraction."

"Too late for that now," Arthur hums, dipping his face down as he rubs his nose to yours, trying to entice you into another kiss.

"Tell you what.” You pull your face back a bit more to get his attention only to be met with a playful scowl of disappointment from him. “I’ll be waiting for you in your tent. When you’re done here, you know where I’ll be." You reach up to set a soft kiss upon Arthur’s stubbled cheek. And with a teasing grin, you turn and saunter back toward the camp, hips swaying exaggeratedly.

Arthur’s eyes follow you, the movement of your hips almost hypnotic, causing him to sigh deeply. And just like that, you are gone just as quickly as you had arrived; almost like a dream.

"Damn..." he says with a slight amazement.

—---------------------------------

It’s shortly before dawn when Bill comes down the path to relieve Arthur from his post. The large man ambles towards Arthur rubbing his bear-paw over his eyes and yawning profusely.

“I swear he’s walkin’ slower by the damn minute”, Arthur grumbles to himself with a huff when he lays his exhausted eyes on the man. He shoots Bill a look of annoyance as he briskly walks past the burly outlaw to head back to his tent. “I got things to do, Bill,” he snaps.

Bill simply chuckles with that deep voice of his as he adjusts his hat on his head against the brisk early-morning air. “Oh, I bet you do, my friend.”

Arthur can’t get back to his tent fast enough. He quickly strides across the camp, hurriedly passing by the other snoring and sleeping residents. It's still quiet out and the sun has yet to poke its radiant head above the horizon line. With any luck, Arthur will have a few hours alone with you before the flurry of daily activity kicks up again.

Excitement travels through Arthur’s exhausted body as he reaches his tent. The very sight of his humble little nest that waits for him in the shadows offers him a whole new level of tranquility. He is quick to notice that it is all silent and dark in the space. He half expected a candle to be burning or something.

Arthur hesitates outside the canvas before quietly pulling back the flaps and peers in before entering. And he is elated at the sight of you asleep on his cot, waiting for him just as you said you would be. In the back of his mind, Arthur harbored some doubt that you would be here, thinking maybe you’d change your mind for one reason or another. He cherishes the idea that someone, but especially you, would be waiting for the likes of him.

Arthur quietly creeps in and fixes the flaps back down to ward off the cold autumn breeze before it wakes you. He smiles to himself as he quietly shucks off his jacket and holster, his eyes continuing to rest on your sleeping form as he quietly moves about the tent.

He carefully sits on the edge of the cot, taking a moment to watch you sleeping peacefully. His eyes roam over your body from head to toe, taking in the sight of you and marveling at the treasure he has in front of him.

You're laying comfortably on your back, hair splayed round your face on the pillow. Your one arm rests up by your face, the other lays gracefully across your abdomen. Arthur’s head tilts to the side as he observes how your chest slowly rises and falls with calm breaths. Your eyelids occasionally flutter, making your lashes dance upon your angelic face. Oh, what it must be like to rest so peacefully, he wonders. Maybe now with you by his side, he’ll get to know what that’s like. Maybe.

Arthur places his hand beside your head as he leans over to gently kiss your delicate lips. The action causes you to startle awake, a sharp gasp crossing your lips as your hands shoot to his chest in surprise. But you are quickly relieved to see his handsome face hovering above yours.

"Sorry," Arthur murmurs with an apologetic grin. "Couldn’t resist."

You hum with a sleepy countenance as you slowly sit up, the heel of your hand rubbing your eye in an effort to wake yourself. You reach over to cup Arthur’s face and kiss him back as a welcome. When you pull away, you look him over, noting the sheer exhaustion that coats his whole body.

"You look so tired," you say with a sympathetic smile.

"I am tired." A deep sigh of acknowledgement escapes from Arthur’s chest as he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger with his one hand.

You nod in understanding. "Okay, then." You smile sweetly as you take a moment to curl your fingers through his hair, touching your forehead to his, before you swing your legs over the side of the cot and start to stand up.

Confused, Arthur sits up straighter with apprehension. "Where you goin’?"

You turn back around with a fluid and graceful movement as you catch his chin between your fingers in reassurance. "I’m just going back to my tent so you can get some sleep, is all."

"Well…", Arthur huffs in disappointment, his face dropping and his hands flopping into his lap.

"What’s wrong?" you ask, slightly amused at his pouty face.

"I mean…I know we’re not gonna…you know…” Arthur waves his hand at you suggestively. "But I was hoping you’d stay with me while I get some sleep."

"Oh." A big smile erupts on your face. "Okay, then," you gush, biting your lower lip a bit and trying to contain your excitement. You move to settle back down onto the cot, scooching over and fidgeting to make room as Arthur lays down alongside you.

“Boots, please” you say in a soft scold, tapping his shoulder.

"Huh? Oh!" And Arthur quickly sits back up to take off his boots. He’s so used to being on his own that he’s often just falling into bed, not even bothering to take off his jacket let alone his boots. Arthur is not used to having anyone in his space, let alone a woman in his bed. You look down with a soft smile as he pulls at his mud-dried boots with thick, clumsy fingers.

He lays back down and gets settled once more. You both wiggle awkwardly, giggling as you do, so that you can both fit onto his squeaky one-person cot. You face each other as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You lift your leg over his, so that you can snuggle in tight, laying almost nose to nose to make room for each other.

Finally finding a comfortable position, Arthur inhales deeply and lets out a long exhale. You smile as you watch the tension drain from his shoulders. (You swear he just lost about 2 inches in height in doing that.) You gently reach up and lay your hand along Arthur’s neck, fingers resting along his jawline, as your thumb sweeps across those scars on his chin. Your eyes scatter across the tired features of his strong and handsome face.

You have no idea how this is going to play out between you two, but right now, you don't care. He is a risk, as you told him before, and your future together is an uncertain mystery. And yet, this is the most certain thing that you have felt in what seems like forever. Here, at this moment, in this precious, precarious little bubble, you are with Arthur, and that is all that matters.

"Hmmmm…that’s better," says Arthur, finally relaxed and content.

“Happy, now?” you affectionately tease.

“Quite.”

"Goodnight, Arthur." Your honeyed voice sings to him in the darkness before you close your eyes again.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me

-Pete Townshend - The Who

*The line about the storm and the rainbow is based on a quote from the wonderful Dolly Parton, whom I idolize. And the “guardian angel” line is based on a meme that I saw.

***Ahhh! Finally! I've been working on this for over a year, but had to write the events that lead up to this first. But good news, this is not the ending! I have much more taking place after this. Some of it is fluffy, some will be smutty, some will be angsty! For those who are interested in reading a continuing storyline, I can tell you that my plan is to see this through to the end (which I have already written, btw). If anyone is interested in being on a taglist, let me know. (I am really bad at those, so I am trying to figure out how to keep track of that kind of thing.)

Comments and feedback are welcome! As I continue this story, I also want to develop my writing skills. So please let me know what you like and don't like.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x reader smut #rdr2 fanfic

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links-in-time · 4 months ago

Text

Sword and Dagger

This fic is for @mmelete and anyone else who wants to see some reconciliation and comfort between Legend and Warriors. They are two of my favourite LU boys and I wish they got along more in people's fics.

------------------------~~~------------------------

"LEGEND!" Warriors voice rang out across the camp.

A smile curled the corner of the Vet's mouth as he continued adding wood to the fire. He managed to surpress his laughter. This was going to be hilarious.

The stomping of boots grew louder as Wars stormed across the clearing towards where Legend was kneeling by the fire. Something solid collided with Legend's shoulder, hard and fast. He dropped the last branch he had been holding and clutched at his arm. Looking down he saw the offending projectile. A squat brown glass jar filled with clear gel.

"Ouch!" Legend grunted, rubbing furiously at his new bruise. "What the fuck?!"

"What the fuck?" Wars echoed, turning the question back on Legend.

Around the clearing the rest of the boys couldn't help but stop what they were doing and turn their attention to this latest argument. Time let out a sigh and rubbed at his brow before turning back to his journal. Wild continued chopping vegetables for dinner. He hated it when the others were fighting, it made his anxiety spike and he would rather be literally anywhere else in the world when his brothers were at each others throats.

Four, Hyrule and Sky pretended to carry on with their own activities. Still keeping an eye on the argument about to break out by the fire. Wind was mercifully down by the stream, and hopefully out of earshot of the screaming match that had already begun. While Twilight was out on patrol.

"You arse! You put glue in my hair gel!" Wars bellowed, pointing accusingly down at Legend. His other fist balled and shaking at his side.

Time couldn't help but flick his eye up from his journal to Warriors. He also couldn't help the minute smile which crept upon his lips. Wars' hair, which was usually kept almost immaculate, was a mess. The left side was stuck down so flat it almost followed the shape of his skull. While the right side was stuck up in the air at odd angles. He looked like he'd been caught in a sudden gust of wind. Except there was no breeze. Only a livid scowl and the pointing finger which refused to leave its mark.

"You mean your hair CAN look even more stupid than normal?" Legend replied nonchalantly. His eyes remaining on the fire.

"You little shit! Now my comb is clogged up with glue and hair and I'm gonna have to get a new one, thank you very much! Not to mention what a pain in the arse this is going to be to clean out. What the hell man? What did I do to you?!"

Warriors continued to berate, oblivious to anyone except the object of his fury.

It wasn't really about his hair. Well, it was almost certainly about his hair. But Wars wasn't as vain as people liked to assume he was. Just because he was considered more handsome than most, didn't mean he was constantly preening himself. Sure he liked to look neat and presentable, but that was mostly from a life spent in the army. A soldier could be seriously disciplined for failing to dress correctly or for having scruffy hair. Every soldier was a representative of Hyrule itself. So heaven forbid that Wars always took care in making sure he was the best goddess damned image of Hyrule he could muster.

His real bug-bare was why Legend seemed to have singled him out for his pranks and jibes. Legend teased Wars for his good looks constantly. Not that Wars thought any of the others was less good looking than himself. Perhaps the Vet hadn't seen himself in a mirror for a while. If it wasn't his looks or his scarf, it was his military service, or his rank, or his loyalty to the crown. Legend could turn any trait of Warriors' into a snide remark aimed just right to get under the Captain's skin. Wars sometimes wondered if it was actually some special talent of Legend's. Like a little dagger specifically designed to be able to pick someone apart all the while laughing at them.

"Oh no, you'll have to spend some of that soldiers wage you keep bragging about!" Legend scoffed, batting the pot of gel and glue away from himself.

"What?" Wars shook his head in surprise. This was not the reaction he thought he was going to get. "Since when have I bragged about my wages?"

Wars finally looked around the camp at the rest of the heroes. Sky unfortunately managed to catch his eye and Wars latched onto his gaze.

"Sky, I don't brag about money, do I?" He asked furvently, still radiating rage and confusion.

"Um, well," Sky stammered, shrinking under Wars' intense gaze. "Not as such. But you're kind of the only one of us with an actual job."

Wars processed that for a second. He'd never considered soldiering to be a job, but it did come with a regular pay packet. So far as he could tell the only one of them who got payed for work was the Smithy. Four was an accomplished blacksmith with his own business. He had to make a decent amount of money for the work he produced. So that couldn't be the only reason Legend had singled Wars out. This couldn't be about money.

"Four has a job!" Wars pointed out.

"Hey, leave me out of this," Four stated firmly. "This is between you and Lege, figure it out without pointing fingers at the rest of us."

Four kept his eyes on the sword he was polishing, but Sky noticed they took on a verdent green hew as he spoke. He wanted to ask about it, but knew now was definitely not the time to be starting other conversations.

"Yeah Captain, why don't you pick on someone your own size!" Legend barked, drawing Warriors attention again.

"Pick on..? You're not that short!" Wars spat back.

"Oh so I am short, but not that short!" Legend retorted.

"Come on boys, please knock it off," Time groaned.

He tipped his head back against the tree behind him and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Your screaming match is giving me a headache. Plus I can't imagine anything living within a mile radius of this camp is thanking you either." Time said with a sigh.

"But he..." Wars began, but Time put up a hand to stop him talking.

"Legend, apologise for your prank," Time insisted, fixing Legend with his one eyed stare.

Legend flicked his gaze away to the ground, avoiding the Old Man's piercing eye.

"M'sorry," he grumbled under his breath.

"Right," Time nodded.

"Really, that's an acceptable apology to you?!" Wars scoffed.

"Wars, I'll buy you a new comb and gel in the next town we find. And in the morning I'll help you wash the glue out of your hair. Alright?"

Time turned his gaze onto Wars, who knew from the look on his face that it was going to be alright whether he liked it or not.

"Fine!" Wars turned on the spot and walked decisively towards his bed roll.

He picked it up and dragged it a few metres further away from the fire and set it down with a resounding thump. Wars quickly shucked his armour and his mail and tunic, before shoving himself under his blankets and all but throwing his head onto his pillow.

The rest of the Chain didn't hear a single peep out of their Captain for the rest of the night. Sulking or sleeping, no one had the courage to go and find out. At one point Hyrule asked Legend if he felt bad about how far his prank had gone.

"He deserves being taken down a peg every now and then." Was his response.

But even as he said the words, Legend felt no real emotion behind them. No truth. He'd taken a strange disliking to the Captain not long after they'd all met. He was rigid and calculating. Absurd in the attention he gave to his looks and infuriating in the way that he never deviated from a plan. Legend felt no spark of curiosity or adventure when he took a peek at Wars' aura. His magic felt strong like the rest of the Links, but it also felt tame and rigid. As though it had been pushed into a box which was too small.

Of all the Links in his company, Wars was the one he just couldn't figure out. And the one who reminded him the most of some of the worst days of his life. So he lashed out. Made jokes at his expense, played pranks he knew would get a rise out of the Captain, because it was a laugh. And what else was he supposed to do with someone who was as stiff as a board?

***

Time didn't get a chance to clean Warriors hair. Hyrule woke everyone up in the middle of his watch to the news that a portal had appeared not far from their camp. He'd felt the unique magical signature the moment it appeared and quickly ran to see what had happened. The dark swirl of black and purple bridged the space between two trees. A void deadening all light and sound around it.

Hyrule had hurried back to camp and quickly roused everyone. Unusually, Wars was the last man to finish packing his gear. And he was at the back of the line as they broke camp and followed Hyrule towards the new portal. While no one could see him, Wars attempted to flatten down the worst parts of his hair, but with little to no success. The glue had done a fine job and he'd worked it through so thoroughly with his comb, that it perfectly coated his hair. Forcing it into its current state. He let out a defeated sigh and trudged through the forest without taking much notice of his surroundings.

The shady woodland was soon replaced by the now familiar unsettling feeling of being pulled through a dark place. Wars had the uncontrollable sensation of nausia and dizziness which was concurrent with a portal jump. He was one of the few who suffered the least from time jumps, but he counted himself lucky. Wind and Four often verged on passing out after walking through a portal. While Hyrule could be left feeling dizzy and disoriented for up to an hour. Not helpful if there was danger waiting on the other side.

As the blackness faded away and the sickening sensations passed, Wars felt the bitter chill of icy weather biting at his skin. He looked up and had to blink twice before he believed what he was seeing.

Everything was white.

Everything except the red, blue and streak of pink hair in the near distance, which could only be Legend.

Wars grumbled, wrapping his arms around himself as he shoved his chin into his scarf. This was not going to be a pleasant day.

"Cap?" Legend howled over the rushing of the wind pelting his ears.

His hair flew every which way and he held onto his cap to prevent it being tugged off his head. His tunic whipped around his bare knees and he winced against the sting of the snow as it hit his exposed legs. Surely the Captain would tease him for not wearing trousers at some point.

The Captain! Legend suddenly thought with a jolt. Where in Din's name was everyone else?

"Captain!" He called again.

Wars wasn't very far away, but still Legend's voice sounded like a whisper rather than a holler. Squinting against the driving snow and leaning into the wind Wars trudged towards the colourful blob in front of him.

"I can hear you Legend. Where's everyone else?" He called in reply.

"No clue. They were right with us when we went through the portal."

Wars heard something about Legend not having a clue. (Nothing new there) And the portal.

"Great," Wars sighed.

This wasn't the first time the Chain had been separated by portal jumps before. Usually they were only split up by a short distance. They never settled on a plausible theory as to why this happened, though Wars had some pretty convincing ideas of his own. However, upon a quick scan of the surrounding empty countryside, Wars couldn't discern any other notable figures in the landscape. Legend and he supposed he himself, were the only dots of colour in an otherwise colourless world.

The snow storm showed no signs of blowing over and even tall trees had been mostly hidden by the onslaught of snow and ice. When Wars reached Legend, his next move would be to look for shelter. Hopefully the sour veteran would be cooperative enough to help rather than hinder Warriors efforts to keep them both alive.

"Looks like we got split up again. And we don't have Wild or the Sailor with us to contact anyone. We need to find shelter or we'll both catch our deaths in this cold." Wars said through chattering teeth.

Legend shuddered at the thought of just trying to walk through the thick snow around them. He could already feel the chill in his core as he pulled his hat down over his ears, and shoved his hands under his armpits to keep his fingers from freezing.

"Any suggestions?" He uttered, struggling to breath with lungs full of ice.

"Let's walk downhill," Wars decided, trying to think logically while his brain was telling him to just stop and get warm. "The cold will be less intense if we reach a lower altitude, and there's more likely to be shelter the lower we go. If we stay up here on the hill tops we'll freeze to death."

"Downhill it is then," Legend nodded.

Wars raised an eyebrow at how easily Legend had followed his suggestion. But he didn't dare question it unless Legend suddenly decided to have an argument about it.

"You want me to go ahead or behind?" He asked.

"You can cut through the deep snow easier than I can, you go first."

"Right."

"Plus, if you fall in a hole I'll know not to step there!" Legend snorted.

"Right," Wars said flatly.

So they began their slow slog down the hill. The wind was mercifully behind them, but still bitterly cold. Wars took a leaf out of Legend's book and pulled his old hat out of his bag. He tugged it tight down over his ears and tucked the end into his scarf so it wouldn't flap about. Wars could feel his steel mail freezing but there wasn't anything he could do about that now. His undershirt would keep it from touching his skin, but it wouldn't do anything to keep him warm. He just preyed they would find some kind of shelter and soon.

They walked for what felt like hours before the ground began to level out. The trees became a more frequent sight and though the storm was still raging, even a meagre tree cover was better than nothing.

"We could stop and make a fire here?" Wars suggested, looking about at the tall pines around them.

"Our stuff will just get wet if we stop here. We should keep looking for shelter. A cave or a cabin or something," Legend replied with a shake of his head. Though it could have just been from the cold.

"How d'you know there'll be one?"

"I don't, but... I'd rather keep looking than stop here and freeze. At least if we're moving we're keeping some sort of body heat." Legend explained.

"Me maybe, aren't you freezing?" Wars scoffed, eyeing Legend's bare legs which looked raw and red.

"Yeah I am, thanks for reminding me!"

"Sorry, I was just thinking you might want to stop?" Wars remarked.

"Because I'm small and fragile?" Legend snorted.

"What? NO?" Wars balked. "Because you're wearing less clothes and you're more likely to die more quickly of exposure than I am."

"It's not a competition Captain!" Legend hissed over his shoulder as he continued to walk in front of Wars. "Besides, I'm far more adaptive than you anyway. Who's to say who would win that competition?!"

"It's not a competition to see who dies first either Lege!" Wars sighed, hurrying to stay with the turbulent Vet.

Their argument died as they continued to walk through the snow covered forest. Icicles hung ominously from tree branches over head. Wind whipped through the trees, shaking loose drifts of snow. The only sounds were the howling of the wind, and their laboured breathing as the two boys marched through the snow drifts.

"Hut!" Legend exclaimed.

Wars head shot up at the sound and looked ahead. A squat wooden structure sat among the trees just a few yards away from them. Legend immediately took off towards it, with Wars only a few steps behind him. The veteran hero threw his shoulder into the door as he turned the handle, but there was less resistance than he had anticipated and the door swung open freely.

It was an extremely modest dwelling and it clearly hadn't been used for some time. There was a single cot in one corner. A fireplace set into the back wall and boarded up windows on the opposing sides.

"I'll be damned, maybe the gods do love us after all," Legend sighed, as he spotted a stack of logs in the corner by the fire.

Warriors quickly shut the door behind them and hefted his pack onto the floor beside the bed. His first instinct was to leave some kind of sign for the others telling them where they were. If this storm didn't break soon, the two of them might find themselves stuck for a while. If the others came looking, Warriors wanted them to find him and Legend as soon as possible.

He pulled out a pouch of berries Wild had picked for him and stared at it, turning the object over in his mind. The colour would stand out against the stark surroundings, but he doubted the juice would stick to the door of the hut on its own. Another thought wormed it's way into his mind and he groaned at how good his idea was.

Wars searched for his old pot of hair gel and found it in his pocket of useless objects he kept meaning to throw away. He opened the lid and was relieved to find it hadn't completely hardened. Wars crushed a few of the berries into the jar and mashed the mixture together with his fingers. When the gel-glue had turned a vivid pink colour, he quickly left the hut.

"Hey! Where are you...?"

Wars heard Legend say as he pulled the door open and quickly used his fingers to write on the outside of the wooden door. It was rough and untidy. But his makeshift paint did the job. The bright pink of the berries having the desired affect. Wars spelled out the quickest and easiest thing he could think of before letting too much cold back into the hut. After he was finished he quickly washed his hands off with some snow, closed the door and threw the jar of paint back into his pack.

"What was that about?" Legend asked incredulously.

Wars sighed contently as he saw the fire blooming into life behind Legend. But he swallowed before answering his question.

"I was leaving a sign for the others in case they come looking for us. Hopefully someone will be able to see it even if they don't notice the hut right away."

"Huh, that's actually pretty smart," Legend nodded, turning to throw some more kindling onto his tender flames.

"Did you just call me smart?" Wars jibed.

"I called you pretty smart, you know, the same way seagulls are pretty smart," Legend scoffed, avoiding Warriors gaze.

"Right."

Wars shook his head and turned back to his pack. He pulled out his bed roll and set it on the floor beside the fire. Legend waisted no time settling himself onto it and rubbing at his legs to stimulate some warmth. Wars pulled out his blanket and pillow and some spare shirts to replace the one he was wearing. It would be wet with both sweat and snowmelt and would quickly make him cold if he didn't change it soon. Speaking of.

"Hey, um, Legend," Wars said tentatively. Hating himself for the next words about to come out of his mouth. "Can you help me for a minute?"

"Help you with what?" Legend groaned.

"I can't take my armour or my mail off, they're too cold to touch. Can you put some gloves on and help me?" He asked, trying to convey as much sincerity in his voice and expression as he could muster.

Legend let out the longest sigh Wars had ever heard. But still, the Vet pushed himself to his feet and crossed the cabin to where Wars stood.

"Well?" He asked impatiently.

Wars quickly found an old pair of gloves in his pack (not fingerless ones) and handed them to Legend. Although Wars had to point Legend in the right direction a couple of times, Legend quickly helped Wars take off his pauldron and laid it on the floor near the fire for it to warm up. His tunic came off with ease but his mail was more difficult. Legend managed to buch it up around Warriors shoulders, then got him to bed over and slid the whole shirt off onto the floor over his head.

"Well that's just insanely stupid!" Legend scoffed, as he picked up the heavy lump of clinking metal.

"It's saved my life more times than I can count," Wars retorted, trying to shake out his hair before rembering he couldn't.

Legend layed the mail shirt out on the other side of the fire and Wars wondered at the care which the Vet showed to something he clearly disapproved of.

"Why don't you just try not to get hit. Then you wouldn't have to wear something so heavy?" He proffered.

"Is that why you stopped wearing trousers?" Wars remarked in return.

"Touche."

Wars quickly undressed and pulled two clean shirts over his shivering body. He wanted to put his tunic back on as another layer, but that was pretty wet as well. The garment and his scarf, joined his armour by the fire and he settled for pulling a blanket around his shoulders instead.

Legend scooted along the bed roll slightly to let Wars sit down in front of the fire. The warmth hit him in a similar way to the snow. His face and hands tingled as his skin came back to life.

"Ahhh," Wars couldn't help the sigh which escaped him. "Nice work getting the fire going."

Legend looked at him sideways but decided not to turn the simple statement into an argument.

"Thanks, and you're welcome by the way, for helping you out."

"Thanks for that, I'm usually alright doing it by myself. But, I've known people who touched frozen mail before and ended up with the pattern burned into their skin by the cold." Wars explained, his expression turning pensive as his memories trickled into his mind.

"Huh, yeah that would suck." Legend nodded.

Legend finally decided to take off his hat and tunic and let them dry out alongside Warriors clothes. He found his own blanket and draped it over his knees. After that the pair fell into an uncomfortable silence as their bodies began to warm. They could hear the storm raging on outside their little bubble of calm, but the hut was fairly draft free. Plus there were enough logs to keep them going for at least a few days if necessary.

Wars didn't want to sit in silence. He'd hated the periods of his life when he hadn't been able to talk. Since being with the rest of the Chain he felt like he could speak his mind or his emotions freely, and without reprisal. For the first time in a long time he had almost felt understood, among other people like himself. But then there was Legend. The impenetrable wall of stoicism and spite. It wasn't that they just didn't get on, they were totally different people. And it was infuriatingly difficult for the two of them to see eye to eye. Two heroes of Hyrule, both forged though danger and courage to defend their kingdoms. A sword and a dagger, both deadly weapons, weilded in very different ways.

To Wars' great surprise Legend was the first to break their silence.

"I am sorry about your hair," Legend uttered. If not for their complete quiet, Wars didn't think he would have even noticed the teen had spoken.

"Then why'd you do it?" Wars asked, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

"I dunno, thought it would be funny I guess. And it was kinda funny. But after that you were just cross and I knew everyone else would be cross at me for doing it. So, I dunno." Legend shrugged, turning his face away so Wars couldn't see his own confusion.

"Have I done something to make you mad at me for some reason? If I have it definitely wasn't intentional Legend," Wars questioned, searching Legend's posture for some kind of response.

"No, that's not..." Legend tried to push some words out his mouth. But his brain and his lips weren't complying with one another.

Why was he even trying to explain himself to the Captain of all people? He wouldn't understand even if Legend could organise his thoughts. He just knew he wouldn't. So why try at all?

"Forget I even said anything alright. You clearly don't know how to accept an apology."

Just like that Wars watched Legend's walls close in and his mask slip back into place. He radiated the energy of a feral animal, terrified something would come near him. Wars hovered beside him, torn between trying to comfort his friend, and dropping the issue altogether. The hero inside him couldn't bare to do the latter, so he grit his teeth and pushed on.

"Lege, do you hate me?" He asked softly, ready to take the answer he was anticipating.

That made Legend lift his head and face Warriors. A frown creased his brow.

"No, of course I don't hate you?" He said. "Why would you think I hate you?"

"I don't know, the relentless teasing. Hiding my stuff, the glue. You're constantly on my case. It's like you're trying to rile me up so much that I don't want to be with the group any more." Wars rambled on until he had said more than he meant to.

"You don't want to be with the group anymore?" Legend's frown deepend.

"No, I mean yes." Wars sighed, this was coming out all wrong. "Of course I want to be with the group. You boys mean the world to me. But I just get the feeling I don't mean anything to you. Or if I do it's not a good feeling. And that hurts Legend. Everything you do, I know it's little things and if they weren't so often I could brush them aside and maybe even laugh at them. But what you're doing to me, it really hurts. And I don't know why else you'd hurt me if you didn't hate me."

Wars closed his eyes and curled in on himself, his fingers dug into the blanket, knuckles turning while. He only realised he was crying when he felt a drop slip down onto his lip.

Legend sat stock still. He was so stunned he had to give himself a mental slap across the face and grab hold of the situation in front of him. The Captain, Warriors, their chief planner and strategist, his brother, thought he hated him.

"I don't, hate you," he said slowly.

Goddesses he was terrible with emotions. Turns out he was terrible at reading certain people too. Legend thought Warriors was all stoicism and army and, 'look at me aren't I so smart and better than every one!' How could he have got it so wrong.

He knew how.

Months of being hunted by royal soldiers haunted his nightmares. Days and nights spent on the run, accused of a crime he hadn't committed. A crime he was trying to stop for Din's sake! Shining steel and the sound of clinking mail made his skin crawl. Just helping Warriors take his off had sent him to the edge of reliving those memories. But he'd done it because his brother needed his help. Now he was hearing Wars doubted him so completely.

Legend was a difficult person to love. He knew that. He was all hard edges and scepticism. How Ravio not only put up with him, but genuinely loved him, he'd never know. The crazy merchant had latched onto him and never let him go. Ravio had opened his heart to the possibility that he could actually love and be loved in return.

"I didn't take to being the hero as easily as everyone thought I did," Wars said softly.

Legend raised an eyebrow, not at the words, but at the fact that Wars had spoken first. He was almost ready with a speach and everything. But Wars sounded like he was about to get something off his chest, and Legend was happy to hear him out.

"The war had just started. Cia's monsters were ravaging the lands. The Hero was on everyone's lips. And then the Hero was me. I was the one she was after. The spirit of the Hero lived inside me and she wanted it for herself. The lengths she went through to try and claim me, I shudder now to even remember it. I knew how to be a soldier. A Hero was something different. It's alright for a soldier to fail. That just means the enemy was stronger and better prepared than you. You can learn something from failing and do better in the next fight.

But as a Hero, you're not allowed to fail. You win or you lose and if you lose you'd better prepare for people to turn against you. When you're an image people cling to in times of dispare, you do everything you can to help and to live up to their expectations. I tried so hard to be everything people needed me to be. I hardly ever let myself think about what I wanted. Because it didn't matter. I had a job to do and that was all that mattered."

Wars paused and sighed, his chin resting heavy on his arms as they crossed over his knees. Though his voice sounded steady, tears slowly streaked down his face.

"I guess I still have it in my head that everyone needs me to be perfect. If I'm not, then I'm letting someone down. It doesn't matter how good a swordsman I am, or how many enemies I defeat. If I put a foot wrong, if I fail somehow, I fail Hyrule."

"I have a thing about soldiers," Legend sighed. If they were sharing he probably aught to do his bit. "On one of my adventures a guy called Agahnim accused me of kidnapping Zelda. He had some kind of hold over the soldiers and he made them come after me constantly. They put up wanted posters and ordinary Hylians saw me as the enemy who kidnapped their princess. I was on the run for months. Soldiers tried to grab me everywhere I went. I don't know if they had orders to kill me but they certainly weren't gentle in their efforts.

When you first showed up on this journey, for a brief moment I thought you were the enemy. The thing Hylia had sent us to fight. A knight gone rogue. I don't think I ever really got over that feeling. The idea that, at some point you were going to turn on me. So I kept you at a distance, kept pushing you away."

There was a brief moment of silence before Wars chuckled. He snorted a laugh as Legend shot him an incredulous glare.

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. That sounds like a nightmare. But it's kind of ironic," Wars tilted his head as the thoughts swirled.

"Ironic?" Legend parroted, utterly bemused.

"I had my fair share of betrayals during the war." Wars replied, his tone souring. "During one battle, half my troops turned against me. They called me a traitor, claimed the war was my fault. I had to-to fight men and women I had fought alongside for years. They gave me no choice. I still hear their screams.

So it's ironic you thought I was going to turn out to be a traitor. When I've spent most of this journey trying to convince myself that all of you won't turn against me at some point. None of you ever gave me reason to think you would, but the memories still haunt me. So when you push and you tease and you torment me, it feels like..."

"Like your fears are founded in something?" Legend filled in, the bottom falling out of his heart as he spoke.

"Yeah, and when the others laugh and join in with the joke. Sometimes it's hard to make myself believe they don't mean it." Wars paused and turned his body so he was facing Legend more directly. "I'm sorry I make you feel nervous Lege. If I'd known I would have done something. Changed my clothes, I would have lost the scarf, the armour. If it stopped you thinking I would turn on you, I'd have done anything."

"You're sorry?!" Legend barked a laugh. He could feel warmth behind his eyes. But he hoped he would be able to keep speaking before he started crying. "Cap, Wars, I never thought about how what I was doing would make you feel. I - I suppose I did a bit and watching someone like you, a soldier, make a fool of themselves made me feel good I guess. I suppose that makes me a terrible bully." Keep going, deep breath, almost there. "And I know I can't take any of it back. Farore knows I wish I could. But since I can't I want to say how sorry I am. I'm sorry I singled you out. I'm sorry I made you feel betrayed, and I'm sorry I made you think I didn't love you."

"You love me?" Wars frowned as he sniffed.

"Of course I do you big dumb idiot!" Legend smiled, as tears began to overflow down his cheeks. Damn it.

"Haha, that's really sweet of you!" Wars laughed, but the sarcasm was clearly received.

"Sorry, I'm not good at emotions," Legend shrugged. "But I do mean it. I love you, and all the boys, and I will try my very best not to let you feel hurt by my awkward nature again."

"You really do mean it, don't you?" Wars said slowly, searching Legend's eyes for any sign this was another joke of his. He just hadn't reached the punch line yet.

But there was nothing but warmth and sincerity to be found. Wars hard hardly ever seen the Vet cry. But that wasn't important, he was crying too after all. Legend had opened up to him. Explained himself at last. All the pieces slotted into place and at last Wars could see Legend for who he really was. A frightened kid lashing out in order to protect himself. A kid who had seen more horrors and been through more hardships than any of their brothers. Perhaps more than all of them combined. And yet he had enough love left inside him for all of them. Even for Warriors himself.

"I love you too Legend."

Wars dropped his knees and spread his arms wide. Legend sniffed back a sob and crawled his way into Warriors embrace. Wars wrapped Legend up in his blanket, Legend's sightly damp hair tickling his neck. But he ignored it. They were both hurting and it meant the world to both of them to be able to comfort each other. Legend clamped his arms around Wars' waist, his face buried in Wars' shoulder. The warmth of the blanket and Warriors body heat spread through his frigid limbs and kindled a fire in his heart.

"Let's never fight again," Legend mumbled after a while. He felt more than heard Wars laugh against him.

"Yeah, like that's ever going to happen!"

"Alright, let's never fight over anything stupid again," Legend corrected, wiggling out of Warriors death grip slightly.

"Right, nothing stupid," Wars nodded.

The motion drew Legend's attention to Warriors hair. He really tried not to smile. He really really tried, but it was just so stupid how it was all stuck up on one side, even after being stuffed into Warriors hat.

"Would you like me to try and fix your hair?" Legend offered, already afraid Wars was going to shut him down.

"How? It's going to take days of washing to get this out?" Wars sighed, deflating a little.

"If I brush it carefully, I can stop it sticking up like that. Then we can wash it properly when we're out of, wherever we are!" Legend insisted more fervently. "Ravio did something similar to me once after I accidentally burned his favourite scarf. He helped me get the worst out of it."

"But I ruined my comb," Wars groaned, remembering the matted clump which had been thrown on the camp fire.

"We can use mine," Legend offered. "We already need to buy a new one for you, what's one more?"

Legend and Wars spent the rest of the evening huddled together by the fire. Though the storm outside showed no signs of letting up, and they hoped the rest of the Chain had found their own shelter somewhere, their little cabin remained cosy. Legend was true to his word and dutifully brushed the worst of the glue out of Wars' hair.

After he was finished, Warriors hair felt softer and was no longer stuck to the side of his head or sticking up in spikes. As Warriors ran a hand through his hair, he could still feel clumps of glue against his fingers. But at least it was workable. The simple act of kindness and repentance Legend had shown filled his heart. Maybe things would be different between them from now on.

"What did you write by the way?" Legend asked, as he sat back down by the fire.

"Write?" Wars frowned.

"On the door of the cabin," Legend reminded him. "You left a sign for the others to find. What did you write? Some kind of code?"

"Ah, no. Not exactly," Wars uttered, cheeks flushing a little pink.

"A symbol?"

"No," Wars sighed, a symbol would have been a good idea. The triforce would have been easily recognised.

"Then what?" Legend prompted, giving Wars a nudge with his elbow.

"I was in a hurry so I wrote the first thing that came into my head," Wars admitted.

"Right, and that was?" Legend urged.

"I um, I wrote Link."

"Link."

"Yep."

... "It's a good thing you're pretty."

---

Once again this became so much longer and went so much deeper than I intended it to go. I should probably go to therapy instead of venting all my stuff into these characters. But therapy is expensive and posting fanfics on Tumbler is free! So you guys get to enjoy my therapy with me, yay!

(Cries internally)

If you want to read more Legend and Warriors then my fic Hobby Boys is much shorter and has way less angst!

#legend of zelda #fandoms #fanfic #the legend of zelda #link #linked universe #link hyrule warriors #lu chain #link legend #lu legend #lu warriors #zelda angst fic #sorry this fic is really long #sorry not sorry #linkeduniverse

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