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blueteller · 2 months ago

Note

Halour, I'm kinda curious... What crimes have Cale done, exactly? I see a number of "crime list" videos about him but the wiki don't really confirm anything💀

— 🌄

...The Time Has Come. 😌

I have long promised this list, so perfect timing! Thank you very much for this question! Allow me to introduce you to:

Cale Henituse's Crime List

(Just for the fun of it, I tried to give a different example for every single one of these. Some events repeat, but not the crimes!)

1) Accessibility of Records for Tax Department

Cale looted significant amounts of money from the Magic Tower and many other places, without leaving any legal trace.

2) Affray

Multiple occasions, like pretty much everything that happened in the Molden Kingdom.

3) Aggravated Assault

Cale rarely gets physically involved in a fight, but I think suddenly strangling Prince Adin qualifies.

4) Aggravated Burglary

Every single time "Real Arm" is in business.

5) Allowing Dog or Cat To Be a Nuisance

How else would you call encouraging your animal shape-shifting kids to be involved in criminal activity? Also Fluffy the Puppy was under Cale's command even if he technically belonged to Princess Jopis, I say it totally counts.

6) Ammunition – Possessing, Acquiring or Carrying

Cale intentionally pocketed magic bombs from the Plaza Terror Incident and used them later on.

7) Animal Cruelty

...Does Cale subjecting On to his "nice act" in front of Litana counts? Oh it definitely counts. That poor child.

8) Armed Robbery

That time Cale & co. robbed the Mercenary Guilds in Leeb-An City, for instance.

9) Arson

Setting the Wind Island on fire.

10) Assaulting or Resisting Police

That time Cale & co. went to Sez Kingdom. Pretty sure the knights trying to stop them from kidnapping the king counts as "resisting law enforcement".

11) Being Disguised With Unlawful Intent

Priest Cale in a nutshell.

12) Blackmail

That time Cale talked to Antonio Gyerre.

13) Breaking and Entering

Cale coming to the Sekka Estate.

14) Careless Driving

Debatable since a fantasy world doesn't own cars – but. I count Cale breaking through walls of a maze on a mother-effing Stone Imugi as "irresponsible driving". Just think of what kind of example you're setting for the kids, Cale!

15) Carrying a Loaded Firearm in Public

Cale has Raon following him everywhere, so.....?

16) Carrying Out Plumbing Work Without License or Registration

Cale has an underground villa in the Forest of Darkness. I'm pretty sure whatever construction work they did there would count as illegal.

17) Carrying Out Work Without a Building Permit

Cale had Dragons teleport an entire castle into the Forest of Darkness. Yet again, involves a building with no legal paperwork.

18) Causing Injury Intentionally

Obviously. Like making fiery lightning bolt strike in the middle of an Elf Village attack. Or hitting a radish with a rock.

19) Collecting or Making Documents Likely to Facilitate Terrorist Acts

Everything involving Knight Rex after he became a terrorist.

20) Conspiracy

Cale and Alberu talking about anything.

21) Control of Body Armor

After reading it up, I decided that mana disruption device ABSOLUTELY falls into this category.

22) Control and Use of Dangerous Articles

Cale adopting pretty much everyone on his team.

23) Corrupting Benefits Received By Commonwealth Public Official

Cale using Alberu's golden plaque to trap the White Star with Embrace. I mean, if being infected with that clown doesn't count as corruption, I don't know what does.

24) Cultivation of Narcotic Plants

Cale letting Hong eat plants in the Forest of Darkness. It IS, in his own words, his own backyard.

25) Dangerous Non-Guard Dog Attacks or Bites a Person or Animal with Person in Control

Cale letting Choi Han beat up Adin. ...Well, Choi Han COULD be counted as a Guard Dog, but. They never formalized the paperwork? I say it counts since Choi Han isn't legally registered!

26) Dealing With Property Suspected of Being Proceeds of Crime

Cale renting a house from Odeus Flynn.

27) Dealing With Property Which Subsequently Becomes an Instrument of Crime

Cale buying the Magic Tower before he proceeds to kidnap Mueller.

28) Delaying the Entry of Police

Cale not letting the law enforcement know about the Plaza Terror Incident beforehand. Also, activating the mana disruption device, knowing it would hinder their efforts to stop terrorism. ...Yes Cale & co. prevented said terrorism better on their own but it still counts.

29) Deliberately Omitting Information

Cale making an Vow of Death to Choi Han claiming that he can't tell him anything.

30) Destroying, Damaging and/or Interfering with Any Works of a Water Corporation

Setting the Lake of God's Tears on fire.

31) Destroying or Damaging Property

Cale destroying houses in the Gyerre territory.

32) Destruction of Evidence

Cale and Raon blowing up Hais Island 5 to cover up Ron's infiltration.

33) Directing the Activities of a Terrorist Organization

Cale's entire career in a nutshell, really.

34) Discharge Missile to Endanger Person or Property

Cale blowing up the whirlpools in the Ubarr territory.

35) Dishonestly Cause a Loss

Cale tricking the White Star into the abandoned underground city.

36) Disturbing Religious Worship

Cale messing with the Sun God's Church for being mean to Mary.

37) Driving an Unregistered Vehicle

Cale & co. using Mary's bone Dragon.

38) Drunkards Behaving in Riotous or Disorderly Manner

Cale pretending to be drunk in the Gyerre territory.

39) Endangering Safety of Aircraft

Cale letting his allies abroad an airship during the Jungle battle.

40) Entering a Place Without Authority or Lawful Excuse

Cale rescuing Raon.

41) Extortion With Threats to Destroy Property

Cale threatening the slave traffickers in the Gyerre territory.

42) Failure to Notify the Authorities of Criminal Activity

Cale doesn't notify Alberu of crap, unless it's to make him clean-up the aftermath.

43) Failure to Register a Pet

Pretty sure Cale registered exactly none of his allies. ...Except maybe the Tiger Tribe that one time they moved into Harris Village with Deruth's permission. Everyone else? Not a chance.

44) Falsifying or Concealing Identity

Cale acting as Naru von Ejellan in Endable Kingdom.

45) Forgery of Documents

Cale and Taylor faking an ancient document to fool the White Star.

46) Fraud

Cale promising Plavin Singten benefits for siding with the new Sun Church.

47) Getting Funds To, From, or For a Terrorist Organization

Cale sponsoring his allies, like giving Rosalyn magic stones.

48) Going Equipped for Stealing

Cale making Real Arm uniform.

49) Handling Stolen Goods

Cale using Divine Items.

50) Identity Theft

Cale introducing himself as Bob.

51) Indecent Assault

Cale telling Choi Han to strip that one time. (Yes, it actually happened. ...Not the way shippers wished for, obviously.)

52) Inducement to Be Appointed Liquidator

Cale helping Princess Jopis overthrow her sister on the condition of benefits for the Roan Kingdom.

53) Insider Trading

Cale selling Alberu dead mana from a Dragon.

54) Intentionally or Recklessly Causing a Bushfire

Cale setting that bush monster on fire in Xiaolen.

55) Introduction of a Drug of Dependence Into the Body of Another Person

Cale letting Rosalyn drink coffee on Earth 3.

56) Kidnapping

Cale & co. capturing Venion Stan.

57) Leaving Children Without Supervision

Cale letting the kids look for Mueller.

58) Lighting of Fires in the Open Air

Cale using Fire of Destruction against Sky Attribute.

59) Loitering Near Schools

Cale & the kittens in the Sez Kingdom.

60) Loitering With Intent to Commit an Indictable Offence

Cale letting Clopeh Sekka spot him that first time.

61) Manslaughter

Cale letting Choi Han, Rosalyn and Lock go and destroy the Archduke's Estate.

62) Membership of a Terrorist Organization

Cale making up Real Arm.

63) Murder

Cale killing the White Star.

64) Negligent Manslaughter

Cale letting Ron go on a vacation.

65) Non-dangerous Dog Attacks

Cale letting Choi Han spar with Hilsman.

66) Obtaining Property By Deception

Litana giving Cale free stuff.

67) Offences Connected With Explosive Substances

Cale commissioning Eruhaben to create Dragon's Rage.

68) Other Acts Done in Preparation for, or Planning, Terrorist Acts

Every morning Cale drinks lemon tea.

69) Possessing More Fish Than the Catch Limit

Cale dealing with Whales. ...Whales are fish, what are you talking about?

70) Possessing Controlled Weapon, Housebreaking Implements, and Things Connected With Terrorist Attacks

Everything Cale owns in the Super Rock Villa.

71) Possession of Precursor Chemicals

Cale making Billos buy alchemy ingredients.

72) Prohibited Weapons

Cale utilizing the Dragon Bones in battle.

73) Providing or Receiving Training Connected With Terrorist Acts

Cale letting his people train in his backyard.

74) Public Nuisance

Cale letting Choi Han act.

75) Reckless Conduct Endangering Life and/or Endangering Serious Injury

Cale every time he uses his Ancient Powers.

76) Recruiting for a Terrorist Organization

Cale adopting the Tiger Tribe.

77) Robbery

Stealing magic stones from the Alchemy Towers.

78) Sabotage

Cale going behind the Empire's back while he helps out the Whipper Kingdom.

79) Setting Traps to Kill

Cale Ghost Operation during the sea battle against the Indomitable Alliance.

80) Smuggling

Cale helping Cage and Taylor into capital.

81) Stalking

Cale entering Alberu's bedroom whenever he wants.

82) Stating False Name When Requested

Cale never letting anyone know about the transmigration and calling himself Cale Henituse.

83) Tax Evasion

Willful tax evasion for sudden wealth increase.

84) Terrorist Acts

Cale & co. detonating a bomb at Maple Castle.

85) Theft

Cale obtaining the blood drinking crown.

86) Threats to Inflict Serious Injury

Cale & co. threatening King Bakehe.

87) Threats to Kill

Cale cheerfully informing Adin he's going to personally kill him.

88) Torture and Interrogation

Cale ordering Beacrox to deal with the Magic Spearman.

89) Unauthorized Access to Restricted Data

Cale & co. coming to the Directory. ...Yes Bud was the Mercenary King so technically it was legal, except from the Mercenary Guild's perspective, it was break and entering.

80) Unlawful Assembly

Cale hanging out with Dragons.

81) Unlawful Oaths to Commit Treason

Cale promising to destroy the Alchemy Belltower to Rei Stecker.

82) Unlicensed Driving

Cale riding Dark Tiger Alberu.

83) Willful Damage

Cale employing Archie to destroy Duke Sekka's statues.

Any other crimes I forgot to list? Let me know!

***

BONUS CONTENT

With the help of others, we've expanded the original list of Cale's crimes!

84) Aiding and Hiding Fugitives

Cale helping out Hannah and Jack.

85) Aircraft Hijacking

Cale & co. taking over the Empire's airships.

86) Being an Accessory to Crimes

All Cale's deals with Billos in a nutshell.

87) Child Labor Law Violation

Cale making children work for their meals. Even if he's actually just adopting strays under the guise of formal work, said formal work is still illegal. Just admit you care, you weirdo.

88) Defamation

Cale spreading recordings of Adin being evil acros the Empire.

89) Deliberate Damage and/or Destruction of Currency

Cale happily throwing coins into lava.

90) Ecoterrorism

Wiping whole islands off the map counts as severe destruction of the environment.

91) Fly-tipping/Littering

Cale casually defenestrating Adin. Watch where you throw garbage, Cale. There are trash bins for a reason!

92) Harassment

Cale ordering Beacrox to beat up mountain bandits.

93) Illegal Detention/Imprisonment

Capturing prisoners of war, like the Dragon Half-Blood or the Flame Dwarves.

94) Illegal Goods Trade

Cale selling and buying items at the Caro Kingdom Auction.

95) Impersonation

Cale pretending to be different people in the Indignity Test.

96) Intentional Destruction of Cultural Heritage

Cale setting the Lake of God's Tears on Fire. Also, blowing up the Magic Tower.

97) Plunder of Public Property

Cale & co. destroying the walls of the capital of the Empire.

98) Trafficking Endangered Plants Accross Borders

Cale transporting the Fake World Tree in his badge.

99) Treason of the Crown

Cale treating his Hyung-nim with utter disrespect, such as comparing the Shining Sun of the Kingdom to a squirrel.

100) Trespassing

Cale in Endable Kingdom.

BONUS BONUS CONTENT

Not technically illegal, but:

101) Crime Against One's Well-Being

Cale abusing his health in such horrific ways even a regeneration power cannot keep up with him.

102) Crime Against Fashion

Cale preferring only black and plain clothes when he could look good in anything.

103) Crime of Self-Delusion

Cale thinking he still has a chance at slacker life.

104) Spreading Misinformation

Cale's track record of causing misunderstandings everywhere he goes is frankly terrifying.

105) THAT FACE

Cale's fabulous looks are a crime in of itself. It deserves a spot on the list.

#tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of count's family #tcf humor #cale henituse #cale #tcf cale #cale's criminal record #q&a #replies

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novaursa · 1 month ago

Text

The Storm Between Us

- Summary: You save your brother's life and fight with Aemond above Storm's End.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The winds howl as Vermithor’s wings slice through the storm-laden skies above Storm’s End. Rain pelts your face, seeping into your armor, but you care little for the discomfort. Your focus is singular: Lucerys. Your younger brother and his dragon, Arrax, are locked in a desperate race to escape. Behind them looms death itself—Vhagar, the ancient, monstrous dragon ridden by your uncle, Aemond Targaryen.

Through the sheets of rain, you see the faint silhouette of Arrax struggling against the gale. Lucerys is just ahead, the boy’s form hunched low over his saddle, urging his dragon faster. And then you see it—a dark shadow, impossibly large, wings spanning the heavens. Vhagar.

Your blood runs cold, but you grit your teeth, leaning forward on Vermithor. The Bronze Fury beneath you snarls, sensing your determination. You pull at the reins, commanding him into a steep dive, cutting through the storm with the precision only a dragon of his caliber could manage.

“Vermithor, faster!” you urge, your voice barely audible over the roaring wind.

As you near the chase, the sight of Aemond on Vhagar’s back becomes clear. He is a dark specter amidst the storm, one sapphire eye gleaming like a beacon of malice. His lips curve into a cruel smirk as he spots you closing in.

"Well, what is this?" Aemond's voice booms through the storm, cold and mocking. "Another lamb come to the slaughter?"

“Let him go, Aemond!” you shout, your voice rising against the wind and rain. “He’s a child!”

Aemond laughs, low and humorless. “And you think you can stop me, niece? You have no idea what you face.”

But you do. You know the risk. Vhagar is older, larger, and more vicious than any dragon alive. And yet, you cannot let Lucerys die. Your hands tighten on the reins as Vermithor bellows a challenge, his roar shaking the very stormclouds around you.

“Dracarys!” you scream, and Vermithor answers. A stream of fire bursts from his maw, cutting through the rain and illuminating the sky. Vhagar twists, her massive wings flapping once, twice, and she evades the flames with an ease that makes your stomach drop.

Aemond pulls Vhagar into a sharp ascent, taunting you. “Come, little dragon! Show me your fire!” His voice is laced with glee, the thrill of the hunt.

You don’t hesitate. “Up, Vermithor!” you command, and your dragon surges after them. The storm rages, lightning crackling dangerously close, but you hold fast. Every time Vhagar veers, you follow. Every time Aemond tries to outpace you, Vermithor matches him.

Below, you catch glimpses of Arrax and Lucerys disappearing into the clouds, fleeing toward safety. Relief floods you, but it is short-lived. Aemond has noticed as well.

“Is that your plan, little niece? Sacrifice yourself for your precious brother?” His voice is venomous, filled with disdain. “Fitting, I suppose. Two bastards for the price of one.”

The words sting, but you refuse to rise to his bait. Instead, you focus on the fight. Vermithor snarls, his claws extending as you near Vhagar. The two dragons clash mid-air, the force of their collision sending a shockwave through the storm. Vhagar’s massive tail lashes out, narrowly missing Vermithor’s wing. Vermithor counters with a slash of his claws, raking across Vhagar’s armored hide. The roar that follows shakes you to your core.

The rain blinds you, soaking through your hair and plastering it to your face, but you hold fast to the saddle and reins. Vermithor heaves under you, his muscles rippling as he strains against Vhagar’s might. The Bronze Fury bellows again, his jaws snapping dangerously close to Vhagar’s throat.

“Give up, niece!” Aemond’s voice carries through the storm, his words laced with cruel delight. “You cannot win against Vhagar!”

You do not answer. Instead, you lean forward, urging Vermithor closer. He responds with a feral roar, his claws slashing again and again at Vhagar’s flanks. Vhagar counters with a snap of her jaws, her teeth grazing Vermithor’s neck but failing to find purchase.

The dragons twist and turn in the air, their roars echoing across the storm-tossed skies. You can feel Vermithor’s rage, his unyielding determination to protect you, as he fights with every ounce of his strength.

And then it happens. Aemond shouts something to Vhagar, and the older dragon lashes out with a ferocity that catches Vermithor off guard. Her massive claws tear into his side, and you scream as Vermithor roars in pain. He falters, his flight unsteady.

“Vermithor, hold on!” you cry, desperation in your voice. You pull at the reins, trying to steady him, but the damage is done.

Vhagar circles above, triumphant. Aemond looks down at you, his face a mask of cruel satisfaction. “It’s over.”

But you’re not done. You refuse to be beaten. With a final burst of strength, Vermithor lunges upward, slamming into Vhagar with all his might. The force of the impact sends both dragons spiraling out of control, their wings entangled, their roars deafening.

You clutch the saddle with all your strength, your heart pounding as the world becomes a blur of storm clouds and dragon scales. Rain lashes at your face, and the wind tears at your armor, but you refuse to let go.

Then you see it—the ground rushing up to meet you, too fast to stop.

And then—impact.

Darkness. Silence.

Your body aches as awareness creeps back into you. Pain radiates through your limbs, your head pounding like a war drum. You groan, blinking against the rain that still falls in relentless sheets. Mud clings to your face, your armor slick with water and dirt. The world around you is a storm-shrouded haze, but you’re alive.

“Vermithor…” you whisper hoarsely, trying to sit up. Your body protests, but you force yourself upright. Through the blur, you see him—a massive bronze figure, sprawled but stirring. Vermithor shakes his great head, mud and rain cascading from his scales. He lets out a deep, guttural snarl that vibrates through the ground, his golden eyes locked on a shadow moving nearby.

Vhagar.

The ancient dragon groans as she begins to rise, her massive wings unfurling like the sails of a warship. Her scales glint in the lightning, battered but unbroken. For a moment, the two dragons face each other, their snarls echoing like thunder, primal and wild.

“Good boy…” you murmur, dragging yourself to your feet. Vermithor protects you still, standing like a shield between you and Vhagar. You stumble toward him, placing a hand on his warm, slick hide. “We’re not done yet.”

But before you can even draw your thoughts together, something slams into your back. You gasp as you’re thrown forward, landing hard in the mud. Hands seize your shoulders, flipping you over. Aemond.

His sapphire eye gleams with a dangerous light, his face twisted in fury as he looms over you. Rain pours down his pale hair, plastering it to his face, but his grip on you is unyielding. “You just don’t know when to stop, do you?” he growls, his voice low and venomous.

You thrash beneath him, your hands pushing against his chest, but he pins you down with ease, the weight of his armor pressing into you. “Get off me, Aemond!” you spit, mud splattering as you struggle.

“Why?” he snaps, leaning closer. “So you can crawl back to your brother and play the hero again? So you can run back to Dragonstone and tell everyone how you bested the one-eyed prince?” His voice is filled with anger, but there’s something else there, something deeper.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you hiss, meeting his gaze with defiance. “You can call me a bastard, you can try to kill me, but you’ll never break me, Aemond.”

His eye narrows, his breathing ragged. “You think this is about your precious bloodlines?” he snarls. “You think I chase you and your kin for some fleeting sense of power? You’re wrong.”

For a moment, his hands falter, loosening just enough for you to shove him off. You scramble to your feet, wiping mud from your face. “Then what is it, Aemond?” you challenge, your voice cutting through the storm. “What do you want?”

He stands, rain cascading over his armor, his chest heaving as he glares at you. “You,” he says, the word ripped from him like a confession. His voice is raw, filled with years of suppressed emotion. “I’ve wanted you since we were children. And yet you stand there, defying me, fighting me at every turn!”

You freeze, his words hitting you like a blow. The rain seems to quiet, the world narrowing to just the two of you. “You’re mad,” you whisper, shaking your head.

Aemond steps closer, his voice lowering. “Am I? Or have you always known? You taunt me with your presence, your fire. Every look, every word… You’ve consumed me.” His eye burns with a mix of anger and something else—desire.

“You’re insane,” you repeat, though your voice wavers. You take a step back, your heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with fear.

Aemond follows, his movements slow, deliberate. “Am I?” he asks again, his tone softer now, almost pleading. “Tell me you haven’t felt it too. Tell me you don’t see it every time we cross paths.”

You hesitate, your breath catching. The storm rages around you, but his words strike deep, unsettling something you’ve long buried. “You’re my uncle,” you say finally, though it sounds more like an excuse than a declaration.

“And you’re my niece,” he counters, stepping even closer. His gloved hand reaches out, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “Does it matter, Y/N? Here, now, in the mud and rain, with nothing but dragons and war around us—does it matter?”

His touch burns, even through the cold. You slap his hand away, your anger flaring. “It matters because you’re the enemy,” you snap. “You’ve chosen your side, Aemond. And I’ve chosen mine.”

His jaw clenches, his face a mask of frustration. “Then fight me,” he growls, stepping back. “Fight me, Y/N. But know this—I’ll never stop wanting you. Even if it destroys me.”

Your hands tighten into fists, your mind racing. The storm, the dragons, the battle—they all fade into the background as you face him. “You’ll regret this,” you warn, your voice trembling with both anger and something else.

“I already do,” he admits, and for the first time, his voice cracks.

The tension between you is electric, the storm mirroring the turmoil within. For a moment, neither of you moves, locked in a battle far more dangerous than swords or fire. Then, with a growl of frustration, Aemond turns away, stalking toward Vhagar.

Behind you, Vermithor lets out a low rumble, his golden eyes watching your every move. You turn to him, placing a hand on his flank, drawing strength from his steady presence.

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

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moonselune · 13 days ago

Note

Hello! Hope all is well with you! I've been enjoying the sillier prompts lately and have been wondering for a while now about the companions' reactions to a wild-magic sorcerer Tav accidentally turning themselves into a potted plant, as can happen in actual dnd. This might be in combat, out of combat, or when no one's around to see until they realize Tav is missing and there's a new, Tav-sized plant at camp. Thanks for considering!

Ahahahaha I didn't know this because fun fact I have never played as a wild-magic sorcerer, the more you know

Karlach:

The chaos of battle still hung thick in the air: the acrid tang of ozone from lightning spells, the metallic bite of blood, and the charred aroma of scorched earth. Karlach stood amidst the wreckage, her infernal engine humming faintly as the adrenaline of combat began to ebb. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she turned to look for you, her fiery grin ready to celebrate another victory with her partner.

Only, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Babe?” she called, her voice carrying over the clatter of armor and groans of the fallen. She scanned the battlefield, her sharp eyes darting between the bodies of your enemies. Her smile faltered. “Where the hells are you?”

It wasn’t like you to wander off mid-battle, even with the unpredictable nature of your wild magic. A sinking feeling settled in her gut, and she began to search, calling your name louder now.

Her gaze finally fell on a peculiar sight near the edge of the clearing—a potted plant. It was vibrant and oddly you-sized, perched precariously on the remnants of a crumbled wall. Karlach’s brows furrowed, her hands on her hips as she stared at it.

“What the…?” she muttered, stepping closer. There was something strangely familiar about the plant. Its broad leaves almost seemed to droop in a manner reminiscent of your slouch when you were feeling bashful, and the faint glow of magic that lingered around it screamed wild surge.

Her eyes widened as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. “No way. No way.”

Dropping to a crouch in front of the plant, she inspected it closer.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” she whispered, reaching out to touch one of the leaves gently. It was warm, and she swore she could feel your presence within it. “Babe, is that you?”

The plant didn’t respond, of course, but Karlach groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she lamented, her voice muffled. “You go and turn yourself into a bloody plant? In the middle of a fight?”

She glanced over her shoulder to ensure the rest of the group was still occupied. No one had noticed your absence yet, and for that she was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could handle the jokes from Astarion or the endless concern from Gale right now. This was between you and her, dammit.

Sighing, she scooped the pot into her arms, holding it like she would hold you.

“Alright, love,” she said, her tone softening despite herself. “Let’s get you back to camp and figure out how to fix this, yeah?”

The trek back was… awkward. Karlach tried to hold the pot steady while simultaneously glancing around to ensure no one saw her cradling a plant like it was her most prized possession. She muttered under her breath as she went, half scolding you and half laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“Of all the things you could’ve turned into,” she grumbled. “Why not something cool, like a dragon? Or even a chair! I could’ve used you for a rest at least.” She looked down at the plant with a rueful grin. “But no, you had to go and be adorable even as a damn fern.”

By the time she reached camp, the rest of the party had begun to notice your absence. Shadowheart raised a questioning eyebrow as Karlach marched straight to your tent, the plant held tightly in her arms.

“Where’s—” Shadowheart began, but Karlach cut her off with a gruff, “Don’t ask,” before disappearing inside.

Once safely tucked away in the privacy of your shared space, Karlach set the pot down gently and sat cross-legged in front of it.

“Okay, love,” she said, her tone serious now. “I’m not exactly a magic expert, so I’m guessing this’ll wear off on its own, yeah? Just, uh… shake a leaf or something if I’m right.”

Nothing happened. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Figures. You’d turn yourself into something that can’t talk back.” She reached out to stroke one of your leaves again, her touch tender. “I just hope you’re okay in there. You’re not, like, panicking, are you? ‘Cause I’m here, alright? I’ve got you.”

The hours ticked by, and Karlach stayed by your side, talking to you about everything and nothing. She recounted old stories of her time in Avernus, described the way the campfire crackled just outside, and even hummed a few bars of a tune you loved. She refused to leave, determined to be there the moment you returned to your usual self.

When the magic finally dissipated, it was abrupt. One moment, she was staring at the plant, and the next, you were sitting on the floor in front of her, looking disoriented but otherwise unharmed. Karlach blinked, then burst into relieved laughter.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around you in a rib-crushing hug before you could even fully process what had happened. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear?”

You groaned, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “Wasn’t exactly intentional,” you muttered, but the warmth in her embrace made it hard to feel anything but gratitude.

Karlach pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands, her grin brighter than the campfire.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said, her voice teasing but her eyes soft. “Even if you do have a habit of turning into houseplants.”

You chuckled weakly, leaning into her touch. “I’ll try to aim for something cooler next time.”

“Damn right, you will,” Karlach said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But for now, you’re staying right here. No more wild magic shenanigans until I’m convinced you won’t turn into a cactus or something.”

Minthara:

The camp was eerily quiet when Minthara returned from scouting the perimeter, her steps as measured and deliberate as ever. She had left you behind, trusting that whatever magical experiment had your attention at the moment was at least minimally controlled. You had assured her you would remain safe.

But as she entered the camp, her sharp eyes immediately swept the area—and you were nowhere to be found. A frown tugged at her lips, irritation brimming beneath her calm exterior.

“My love?” she called out, her voice low but commanding. There was no reply, only the faint rustling of wind through the trees.

Something was wrong.

Minthara’s grip on her weapon tightened instinctively as she strode toward your usual spot near the campfire. Her keen senses caught the faint trace of magic lingering in the air—chaotic, unpredictable magic. It clung to the clearing like a haze, setting her teeth on edge.

And then she saw it.

A potted plant, sitting innocently in the middle of camp. It was a strikingly odd sight—vibrant, lush, and entirely out of place. Minthara’s frown deepened as she approached, her eyes narrowing. Something about it felt… familiar. She knelt beside it, her fingers brushing one of the broad, leafy fronds.

Her instincts screamed at her, the strange magic and the peculiar timing sparking a suspicion she couldn’t shake.

"No," she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with disbelief and annoyance. "Surely not."

She circled the pot, scrutinizing it from every angle, her sharp mind piecing together what must have happened. The chaotic magic. Your absence. The plant’s unnerving resemblance to your height, even its oddly charming tilt to one side.

“By the Underdark” she growled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’ve turned yourself into a gods-damned plant.”

Minthara rose to her full height, her expression a mixture of exasperation and begrudging amusement. She paced back and forth for a moment, muttering to herself in clipped Drow. This wasn’t her first encounter with wild magic’s unpredictability, but seeing you reduced to foliage tested even her patience.

Finally, she stopped, crossing her arms as she glared down at the plant.

“You’d best hope this is reversible,” she said, her tone sharp but carrying a strange undercurrent of affection. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to carry you into battle as a decorative shrub.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

Minthara sighed deeply, a rare crack in her stoic demeanor. She crouched down again, this time with a softer touch, her fingers trailing over the edge of the pot.

“You do realize how much you worry me?” she murmured, her voice quiet now. “Vanishing without warning, leaving me to find… this.” Her lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “You’re lucky I’m fond of you, even when you’re at your most absurd.”

She lingered there for a moment, her crimson eyes studying the plant as though willing you to transform back through sheer force of will. Her mind raced with possible solutions—waiting for the magic to dissipate, seeking assistance from one of the more magically inclined companions, or even attempting to force the issue with a spell of her own. But none of those options sat well with her; the thought of leaving you in this state for even a moment longer than necessary gnawed at her resolve.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the camp, the chaotic magic finally began to wane. A sudden burst of energy rippled through the air, and in an instant, the plant vanished—replaced by you, sitting awkwardly on the ground with wide eyes and a dazed expression.

“Minthara?” you said weakly, blinking up at her.

Her expression was unreadable as she loomed over you, her arms crossed once more. For a moment, she said nothing, letting the weight of her presence—and her silence—sink in. Then, with a sharp exhale, she extended a hand to help you up.

“You are a constant test of my patience,” she said, her tone icy but her touch firm and steady as she pulled you to your feet. “And yet, I cannot seem to stay angry with you.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips.

“Sorry about that,” you said, glancing at the now-empty spot where the plant had been. “Didn’t mean to… you know. Turn into a houseplant.”

Minthara rolled her eyes but allowed a small smirk to break through her stern façade.

“I suppose it’s a testament to your unique charm,” she said dryly. “Only you could find a way to make even wild magic this ridiculous.”

Her hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, her gaze softening as she studied you.

“Do try not to disappear on me again,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve grown quite accustomed to having you by my side… in a form that can actually hold a weapon.”

You chuckled, the sound warm and full of relief. “I’ll do my best.”

Minthara shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping her lips despite herself. “See that you do. Now, come. You owe me a drink to make up for this nonsense.”

She turned sharply, striding toward the campfire with her usual commanding grace. But as you followed, you caught the faintest trace of a smile lingering on her lip.

Lae'zel:

Lae'zel stood amidst the aftermath of the battle, her chest heaving as she wiped a smear of blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. The final enemy had fallen beneath her blade, and the battlefield was silent save for the distant rustle of the wind through the trees. She turned sharply, her yellow eyes scanning the clearing for you, her battle partner and—more recently—her lover.

“Y/N” she barked, her voice firm as always, tinged with the expectation of a swift response. When none came, her brow furrowed. She swept her gaze over the terrain, spotting the bodies of your foes… but no sign of you.

Her grip on her blade tightened as unease prickled at the edges of her thoughts.

“Where are you?” she muttered, you had a habit of getting into trouble, especially with the erratic nature of your magic. This silence was unsettling.

It was then that her gaze landed on something odd—a potted plant, sitting upright amidst the debris and gore of battle. It was an odd sight, pristine and bright green in stark contrast to the carnage around it. Lae’zel’s frown deepened as she stalked over to it, her boots crunching on the ground. Something about the plant felt… familiar.

She stopped before it, staring down at its leaves. It was unusually large, roughly your height if she imagined it upright. The pot itself bore faint traces of magic that made her lip curl in suspicion.

“Ridiculous,” she growled. And yet, the chaotic nature of your magic whispered a possibility in her mind—a possibility so absurd she dismissed it outright. At first.

Then, she leaned down and poked the plant with her gauntleted finger.

The moment her finger brushed a leaf, a faint magical hum radiated from it, and Lae’zel’s eyes widened. Her sharp mind pieced together the evidence: your absence, the lingering magic, and the absurdity of a random plant appearing on a battlefield. She drew back with a look that was half exasperation, half incredulous disbelief.

“You have done this to yourself, haven’t you?” she demanded, glaring at the plant as though it could answer her. “Wild magic,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. “You reckless fool.”

She straightened, planting her hands on her hips, her blade still dripping with the blood of her enemies. For a moment, she considered leaving you as you were, just long enough to impress upon you the consequences of your chaos. But the thought was fleeting, quickly overtaken by the frustration that you were not by her side in a form she could lecture properly.

Lae’zel crouched again, this time with a softer expression, though she still scowled.

“If you can hear me, you will fix this yourself,” she said firmly. “I have no intention of hauling a houseplant back to camp.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

“Ugh.” Lae’zel threw her head back, muttering something sharp and guttural in Gith, likely a curse aimed at the unpredictability of magic. Despite her frustration, she carefully scooped the pot into her arms, grumbling under her breath as she did so. The weight was awkward but manageable.

She began the trek back to camp, her movements brisk and efficient despite the absurd cargo in her arms. Along the way, she muttered a constant stream of words, alternating between irritation and reluctant concern.

“You are fortunate I value you, even when you test my patience,” she said, glancing down at the plant. “Were you anyone else, I would leave you here to rot.”

When she reached camp, the sight of Lae’zel carrying a potted plant drew immediate attention. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, Astarion stifled a laugh, and Gale opened his mouth to ask a question—only to receive a sharp glare that silenced him on the spot.

“Not a word,” Lae’zel snapped, setting the plant down beside the fire with a little more force than necessary. She pointed a finger at the pot as if addressing you directly. “You will undo this foolishness. Now.”

By sheer coincidence, the chaotic magic finally dissipated, a sudden burst of energy shook the camp, and you appeared where the plant had been—sitting awkwardly on the ground, blinking in confusion.

“Lae’zel?” you said, your voice tentative. She towered over you, arms crossed and glaring fiercely.

“You turned yourself into a plant,” she stated, her tone flat but laced with unmistakable annoyance.

“Uh… yeah,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “I guess I did.”

Lae’zel stared at you for a long moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without warning, she grabbed your arm and hauled you to your feet.

“You are an utter fool,” she said, her voice harsh, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes. “And you will explain how this happened—after you swear to me it will not happen again.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her intensity, even as you stammered out an apology.

“I’ll try,” you said, earning an unimpressed snort from her.

“‘Try’ is insufficient,” she snapped, but there was no real heat in her words. She studied you for a moment longer before pulling you into a surprisingly firm embrace, her grip strong but steady. “Do not make me worry for you again.”

The rare softness in her voice made your heart swell, and you nodded against her shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

Shadowheart:

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the camp in a soft, dusky glow. Shadowheart returned from gathering water at the nearby stream, her steps light but deliberate as she moved toward the campfire. Dinner was her next priority, and after that, a quiet evening spent in your company. Or so she thought.

As she reached the camp, a strange sight stopped her in her tracks. Sitting near the fire, where she expected to find you lounging or reading, was… a potted plant.

Shadowheart blinked, her brow furrowing. The pot was large, almost comically so, and the plant itself had an odd, almost lively vibrance to it. Its fronds swayed gently in the evening breeze, and its size was distinctly you-shaped.

She set the water down and took a few tentative steps closer, her dark eyes narrowing as she examined the plant. Her fingers brushed one of the leaves, and a faint shimmer of magic danced across its surface. Recognition hit her like a gale-force wind, and she straightened up abruptly, staring at the plant in stunned silence.

And then she started laughing.

The sound was soft at first, a quiet chuckle bubbling up from her chest. But it quickly grew louder, filling the camp as she doubled over, one hand braced on her knee and the other clutching her stomach.

“Oh, gods,” she wheezed, barely able to get the words out. “You’ve done it now, haven’t you?”

She staggered back a step, trying to compose herself, but the sight of the potted plant sitting innocently near the fire broke her resolve. She collapsed onto a nearby log, her laughter ringing through the clearing.

“You—you turned yourself into a plant!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking with mirth. “How? Why? What—what were you even doing?”

The plant, of course, did not respond. Its fronds merely swayed as if in agreement, which only made Shadowheart laugh harder. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she leaned forward, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” she managed to say between gasps. “I didn’t think wild magic could be this ridiculous.”

For several minutes, she simply sat there, caught in a loop of laughter and attempts to calm herself. Every time she thought she had control, she’d glance at the plant again, and another wave of giggles would take her.

Eventually, she wiped her eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered to herself, still grinning. “I suppose I should figure out how to fix this before someone else sees you like this.”

But instead of moving immediately to find a solution, she reached out and gently patted the pot, her touch oddly tender.

“You’re lucky I find you endearing,” she said, her voice soft with affection. “Even when you’re… this.”

She sat there for a while longer, her smile lingering as she studied the plant. The absurdity of the situation didn’t erase her fondness; if anything, it deepened it. You were chaotic, unpredictable, and utterly unique, and somehow, she adored every bit of it.

When the magic finally began to fade, the plant shimmered and morphed, and in a flash of light, you were sitting on the ground, blinking up at her with a sheepish grin.

“Uh… hey,” you said awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck. “Miss me?”

Shadowheart burst out laughing again, leaning back on the log as she shook her head.

“Oh, my love,” she said, her voice full of amusement and exasperation. “You never fail to surprise me.”

She stood and offered you her hand, pulling you to your feet with a smirk. “I’ll admit, I was tempted to leave you like that for a while longer. You made a rather charming plant.”

You groaned, your face heating. “Please don’t tell the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with mock sincerity, though the mischievous glint in her eyes suggested otherwise. “But you might owe me a favor or two to ensure my silence.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as she leaned in closer, her expression softening. “Just promise me you’ll try not to turn yourself into anything else for a while,” she said, her voice quiet but warm. “I’d rather have you by my side.”

You nodded, and Shadowheart’s smirk widened as she pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “Good. Now, let’s get some dinner before you accidentally polymorph into a roast chicken or something.”

With a laugh, she led you toward the fire, her hand slipping into yours. Even as the evening went on, she couldn’t help but glance at you now and then, a smile tugging at her lips as she remembered the absurdity of the situation.

Jaheira:

Jaheira had seen many strange and inexplicable things in her long life. She had battled liches, shaped the natural world, and lived through countless adventures that would leave lesser individuals trembling. But when she returned to camp after a morning spent tending to her druidic rituals, she did not expect to find a potted plant sitting conspicuously near the fire, in precisely the spot you usually occupied.

She froze, her keen eyes narrowing as she took in the odd sight. The plant was unusually large and vibrant, its leaves swaying gently despite the still air. Jaheira’s lips pressed into a thin line as a nagging suspicion bloomed in the back of her mind.

“Beloved?” she called out sharply, her gaze darting around the camp for any sign of you. The woods were silent save for the rustle of leaves, and there was no reply. Her frown deepened as she crouched beside the plant, reaching out to touch one of its leaves. The faint shimmer of residual magic confirmed her worst fear.

“By the gods…” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “Of course.”

Jaheira sank onto a nearby log, her expression shifting from incredulity to sheer exasperation.

“I leave you alone for one morning,” she said aloud, as if addressing the plant. “One morning, and this is what you manage to accomplish?”

The plant offered no response, its fronds swaying innocently. Jaheira leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she regarded it with a mix of frustration and reluctant fondness.

“Wild magic,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “I warned you, did I not? I told you to focus, to keep your chaos in check. But no, of course not. That would be too simple.”

She let out a long, weary sigh and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“What am I to do with you?” she muttered, shaking her head. “I cannot even lecture you properly in this state.”

Her gaze softened slightly as she studied the plant, her exasperation giving way to quiet concern. Despite her irritation, there was a tenderness in her expression—a deep-seated care that she could never fully mask.

“You are lucky I care for you, you ridiculous creature,” she said softly. “Otherwise, I might have left you here to contemplate your folly for a few days.”

Jaheira stood and began pacing, her sharp mind already working through possible solutions. She muttered to herself as she moved, alternating between frustration and practicality.

“Undoing wild magic,” she said, glancing at the plant. “An unpredictable mess, as always. I ought to leave you for Gale to sort out—he would likely enjoy the challenge. But no, no. This is our problem.”

She stopped pacing and returned to the plant, placing her hands on her hips. “If you can hear me, beloved, know this: when you return to your proper form, you will owe me twice over. For this, and for the worry you’ve caused.”

As if in response, the plant shimmered faintly, and Jaheira arched an eyebrow.

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Perhaps there is still some sense left in you.”

Moments later, the magic dissipated with a faint burst of energy, and you were suddenly sitting on the ground, dazed but otherwise unharmed. You looked up at Jaheira, blinking in confusion as you tried to process what had happened.

“Jaheira?” you said tentatively, your voice hesitant. “What—”

She held up a hand to silence you, her expression equal parts stern and amused.

“Do not speak,” she said firmly. “Not yet. First, you will listen.”

You nodded quickly, sensing the gravity of her tone. Jaheira crouched beside you, her sharp eyes locking onto yours.

“You will explain to me, in great detail, what foolishness led to this,” she said. “And you will swear to me that you will exercise more caution in the future. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my beloved,” you said meekly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She studied you for a long moment, her gaze softening as she saw the genuine contrition in your expression. With a small sigh, she reached out and cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You are fortunate I adore you” she said quietly, her tone laced with affection despite her stern words. “But you test my patience, beloved. Try not to make a habit of it.”

“I promise to try and not do it more than usual,” you promised with a cheeky smile, earning a faint smile from her.

“That's all I can ask for,” she said, rising to her feet and offering you her hand. “Now, come. There is work to be done, and I will not allow you to shirk your duties just because you decided to play at being a houseplant.”

You laughed softly, taking her hand and letting her pull you to your feet. As you walked together toward the campfire, Jaheira shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

“A potted plant,” she muttered. “What will you manage next, I wonder? A flock of chickens? A living puddle?”

Despite her exasperation, there was a warmth in her voice that made your heart swell. You knew you were lucky to have her by your side—someone who could scold you one moment and hold you close the next.

Gale:

The sun had dipped low, casting the camp in soft, golden hues as Gale returned from a short stroll. He was humming a soft melody under his breath, a habit when he felt particularly at ease. However, his contentment was short-lived.

As he reached the campfire, he froze. His gaze fell on a peculiar sight: a massive, lush potted plant sitting exactly where you would typically be, its leaves trembling faintly as if caught in an unseen breeze. Gale’s sharp mind immediately pieced together the absurd possibility.

He stepped closer, squinting at the plant.

“My love?” he called tentatively, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

The plant, predictably, gave no reply. Gale knelt down, his hands hovering over the vibrant leaves as his brow furrowed.

“No. Surely not…” He reached out, his fingers brushing the leaves. A faint magical hum tickled his fingertips, confirming his suspicions. He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’ve done it again, haven’t you? Wild magic… unpredictable as ever. Now what are you today? A ficus?” He tilted his head, examining the pot. “No, perhaps a monstera. Lovely choice, truly.”

His amusement was short-lived, replaced by determination as he straightened his back.

“No matter,” he said firmly. “We’ll have you back to yourself in no time. After all, what is a little magical mishap to someone like me?”

He moved swiftly, summoning his arcane focus. Arcane energy swirled around his fingers as he murmured incantations, his tone confident. A brilliant light enveloped the plant, the air around it crackling with energy. But as quickly as it had begun, the magic dissipated, leaving the plant unchanged.

Gale frowned, his brow furrowing deeper.

“That should have worked.” He muttered another incantation, this one more complex. Again, the air shimmered, and again, nothing happened.

Minutes turned into an hour as Gale tried every spell and counterspell he could think of. Each attempt left him more frustrated, his usually calm demeanor cracking. By the end, he was slumped on the ground beside the plant, his elbows resting on his knees as he gazed at it with a mix of exhaustion and defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice heavy with guilt. “I thought I could undo this easily, but… I’ve failed you.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the rim of the pot. “You must be frightened, or bored, or both. And here I am, a so-called wizard of no small renown, completely stumped.”

As if in response to his heartfelt apology, a faint shimmer enveloped the plant. Gale sat up straight, his eyes wide as the glow grew brighter. With a soft poof, the plant vanished, and there you were, sitting cross-legged on the ground, blinking up at him.

“Gale?” you said groggily, your voice laced with confusion. “What… happened?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You just… changed back?” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “Just like that?”

You nodded, stretching your arms. “Guess it wore off.”

For a moment, Gale was silent, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. Then he laughed again, the sound warm and rich as he reached out to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Oh, darling” he murmured against your hair. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that?”

You chuckled, leaning into his embrace. “Sorry for the trouble.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he studied you intently.

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly, his gaze filled with affection. “Just promise me one thing: if you ever feel another surge of wild magic coming on, give me fair warning. I’d like to prepare for the possibility of, say, you turning into a boulder next time.”

You laughed, and he smiled, the tension from earlier melting away.

“Come,” he said, rising and offering you his hand. “Let’s have some tea. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll manage to go an entire evening without my lover surprising me with botanical transformations.”

His teasing tone made you grin as you took his hand, and together, you walked back to the campfire, the chaos of the day fading into a memory you’d both cherish.

Astarion:

The sun was beginning to set, casting long, golden shadows over the camp as Astarion strolled back from his usual evening preparations. His step was light, his crimson eyes bright with their usual mischievous glint, but his mood faltered when he reached the center of camp. You were nowhere to be seen.

He tilted his head, scanning the area.

“Darling?” he called, his voice lilting with curiosity. “Where are you? Surely you haven’t wandered off. I thought we agreed that you’d stay within earshot.”

Silence greeted him, save for the distant rustling of the trees. His lips pressed into a thin line as irritation bubbled to the surface. But just as he was about to set off in search of you, his eyes fell on something strange near the fire—a large potted plant. A frown tugged at his features as he approached, his sharp eyes narrowing.

The plant was tall, lush, and vibrant, and its size was suspiciously… familiar. Astarion crouched beside it, reaching out to touch a leaf. His fingers brushed the frond, and a faint hum of chaotic magic tickled his senses. He froze, realization dawning as his mouth fell open.

“No,” he said flatly, staring at the plant as if it had personally insulted him. “You didn’t.”

The plant, of course, did not respond.

“Oh, for the love of—” Astarion cut himself off, straightening with a sharp sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “This is why I can’t leave you alone for five minutes. I go to sharpen my daggers, and you decide to… become a houseplant.”

He paced around the plant, muttering dramatically to himself. “This is my life now, isn’t it? Hauling around my lover in botanic form. I must admit, this is a new low, even for us.”

Despite his exasperation, there was a thread of affection woven through his words. After all, this was you—his beloved, his partner in chaos. And as much as he wanted to leave you here to stew in your own magic, the thought of someone stumbling upon you while you were vulnerable gnawed at him.

“Well,” he said, planting his hands on his hips, “if you think I’m leaving you here to be stolen by some overly enthusiastic druid or trampled by a stray owlbear, you’re sorely mistaken.”

He crouched again, wrapping his arms around the pot.

“You’re heavier than you look, you know,” he grumbled as he hefted it into his arms. He staggered slightly under the weight before finding his balance, his fangs flashing in a sarcastic grin. “Oh, darling, you’re lucky I adore you.”

Thus began one of the most absurd nights of Astarion’s life. With you—now a potted plant—tucked securely in his arms, he set off toward the group’s meeting point, his gait steady but laced with a dramatic air of martyrdom.

“This is humiliating, you know,” he said, glancing down at the plant. “If anyone sees me like this, I’ll never live it down. ‘Oh, there goes Astarion,’ they’ll say, ‘dragging his decorative lover into battle.’”

When he reached the rest of the group, their reactions were predictably varied. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, Gale rubbed his temples, and Karlach burst into loud, raucous laughter.

“What in the Hells happened to Tav?” Karlach asked between laughs, clutching her sides.

“They happened to themselves,” Astarion replied dryly, shifting the pot in his arms. “Wild magic. Again.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Karlach wheezed. “You carrying them around like that!”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up,” Astarion said with a roll of his eyes. “But don’t think I’m letting them out of my sight. If they’re going to make a habit of turning into houseplants, they’ll do it under my watch lest they get molested by the local wildlife.”

Despite his snark, Astarion was true to his word. He carried you everywhere that night—through camp, during patrols, and even to his tent when he finally settled down to rest. He set the pot down beside him, adjusting it with care before sprawling out on his bedroll.

“Well, my love,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself in there. You’re certainly causing me enough trouble.”

He leaned back, his crimson eyes softening as they rested on the plant. “But, as irritating as this is, I suppose it’s… endearing, in its own ridiculous way. Only you could find a way to make this charming.”

As if on cue, a faint shimmer of magic enveloped the plant. Astarion sat up, his eyes narrowing as the light grew brighter. Then, with a soft poof, the plant was gone, and there you were, sitting on the ground, disoriented but whole.

“Astarion?” you murmured, blinking up at him.

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dramatic groan, he flopped back onto his bedroll.

“You absolute menace,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile.

You chuckled, crawling over to sit beside him. “Thanks for not leaving me behind.”

He turned his head to look at you, his crimson eyes glinting. “As if I’d ever let anything happen to you,” he said softly. “Though next time, darling, do try to keep yourself… human-shaped. For my sanity, if nothing else.”

You laughed, and he sighed, reaching out to pull you close.

“Come here, you absurd, wonderful disaster,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I suppose I’ll just have to love you as you are—potted plants and all.”

Wyll:

The inn was a cozy, bustling place, alive with the clatter of mugs and the hum of conversation. Wyll, ever the gentleman, had rented a room for the two of you after a long day’s travel. He’d left you in the corner of the common room momentarily, promising to return after he spoke with the innkeeper.

When he came back, you were gone.

His brows furrowed, his gaze darting around the room.

“My love?” he called softly, his voice carrying just enough for you to hear if you were nearby. “Where have you gotten off to?”

No response. His eyes scanned the crowd, then the quieter corners of the room. There, near the hearth, was a potted plant—a lush, green monstera—placed exactly where he had left you. He could have sworn there was only one monestera by the heart but now it seemed to have a friend. He paused, staring at the new plant with suspicion.

It couldn’t be, could it? He took a cautious step closer, noting the faint hum of magic still lingering in the air. His heart sank, and he let out a long, resigned sigh.

“Wild magic,” he muttered, crouching down to inspect the plant. “Of course. You’ve turned yourself into a… rather fetching monstera, I’ll give you that.”

Wyll ran a hand through his hair, glancing around to ensure no one else was watching him talk to a houseplant. He leaned in closer, his expression softening as he whispered, “Love, if that’s really you, don’t worry. I’ve got this under control.”

Scooping the plant into his arms, he carried it upstairs to the room. It was awkward—pottery wasn’t exactly easy to cradle—but Wyll managed, setting the plant down gently on the small table by the window.

“There,” he said, brushing a few flecks of dirt from his gloves. “Safe and sound.”

For the next few hours, Wyll did his best to care for you—or what he thought was you. He watered the plant carefully, ensuring the soil was just moist enough, and even adjusted its position so it could catch the evening sunlight streaming through the window. He pulled up a chair, resting his chin in his hand as he spoke softly.

“I know this must be frustrating,” he said, his deep voice filled with sympathy. “Being stuck like this. But you’ll be back to your old self in no time, I promise.”

He leaned back, arms crossed as he continued his one-sided conversation. “You know, I always did think you had a natural beauty about you—though I must admit, I never imagined it quite so literally.” He chuckled at his own joke, the sound warm and gentle.

Downstairs, however, the real you—still in potted plant form—sat abandoned near the hearth. A kind innkeeper had noticed you and moved you closer to the bar, thinking you were just a decorative piece. It wasn’t until Karlach wandered into the inn later that evening that someone finally noticed.

Karlach, who had been looking for both you and Wyll, stopped in her tracks when she spotted the plant. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Wait a second,” she muttered, crouching down. Her hand brushed a leaf, and the faint hum of magic confirmed her suspicions. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Grinning, she scooped up the plant with ease and made her way upstairs, throwing open the door to Wyll’s room.

“Oi, Blade of Frontiers!” she called, her voice ringing with amusement. “Care to explain why you’ve been sweet-talking a normal plant while the real Y/N was stuck downstairs?”

Wyll, who had been mid-sentence in his heartfelt monologue to the decoy plant, froze. His eyes darted between the monstera in Karlach’s hands and the one sitting on the table. Realization dawned, and a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He must have mixed them up when he was thinking about the plants.

“Oh,” he said, standing abruptly. “Oh no.”

Karlach set the real you on the floor with a laugh. “You’ve been flirting with a houseplant, Wyll. I can’t decide if that’s adorable or just plain tragic.”

Wyll let out a groan, running a hand over his face. “I thought I was being attentive! Caring! I—I even watered it.”

“You watered it?” Karlach doubled over with laughter, slapping her knee. “Oh, Y/N's gonna love this story.”

As if on cue, the magic around you shimmered, and with a soft poof, you were yourself again. You blinked, disoriented, as Wyll dropped to his knees beside you.

“My love!” he exclaimed, relief flooding his face. “You’re back. Thank the gods.”

You looked between him and the monstera on the table, piecing together what had happened. A slow smile spread across your face. “You were… talking to the wrong plant?”

Wyll groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

Karlach was still laughing in the corner. “Oh, this is gold. Absolute gold.”

Despite his embarrassment, Wyll reached out to pull you into a tight hug, holding you close.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” he murmured, his voice soft. “Even if I made a fool of myself.”

You smiled against his shoulder, your heart swelling with affection.

“Thanks for taking care of… well, something,” you teased gently. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression tender.

“Always,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Though next time, do me a favor and give me a hint, would you? I’d rather not make a habit of serenading the wrong foliage.”

Karlach let out a snort from the doorway, and the three of you dissolved into laughter.

Halsin:

The forest clearing was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Camp had been peaceful for once—no goblin raids, no cursed relics, just the calm embrace of nature. Halsin had stepped away to check the nearby stream for fish, leaving you to experiment with your magic. You’d promised to be careful.

You weren’t careful.

When Halsin returned, carrying a string of freshly caught trout, he immediately noticed something was off. The air around camp felt strange, the energy shifted. His sharp eyes scanned the area for you, but instead of your familiar figure, there was… a potted plant sitting in the middle of camp. A magnificent fern, its leaves vibrant and swaying slightly as if caught in an unseen wind.

He paused, brow furrowing.

“My heart?” he called cautiously, setting the fish down. When no answer came, his gaze settled on the fern. The faint shimmer of wild magic clinging to it made understanding dawn. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Ah,” he muttered, walking over to crouch by the plant. “Wild magic has claimed you again, my heart.”

He gently brushed a large leaf with his fingertips, marveling at how alive it felt.

“You have excellent taste in flora,” he remarked, his tone warm with amusement. “A fern suits you. Strong, resilient… perhaps a bit mischievous.”

Settling beside the pot, Halsin crossed his legs and rested his elbow on one knee, chin in his hand.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any to remind you of the importance of grounding yourself before experimenting with magic,” he mused, though his voice carried no trace of reproach. “Not that you’ll be able to argue with me right now.”

Despite his humor, Halsin’s instinct to care for you took over. He carefully examined the soil, testing its dampness with a practiced hand.

As the evening wore on, Halsin moved you to a sunnier spot, adjusting your position as the light shifted. He kept up a steady stream of conversation, as though you were still in your usual form.

“I’m reminded of a time in the grove,” he said, his deep voice rumbling. “We had a druid who accidentally turned herself into a willow sapling. The children tied ribbons to her branches before anyone realized. She was furious—but she did make quite a beautiful tree.”

At one point, a squirrel approached, chittering curiously at the strange new plant in the camp. Halsin waved it off with a soft laugh. “Move along, friend. This one is spoken for.”

By the time dusk began to fall, he had arranged a small circle of stones around your pot, creating a makeshift shrine of sorts. It was a gesture born of care, a way to ensure you were safe and undisturbed.

As the stars began to twinkle above, the shimmer of magic around you intensified. Halsin, ever attuned to such things, noticed immediately. He knelt beside you, watching as the transformation took hold. With a soft poof, you returned to your usual self, sitting cross-legged where the pot had been moments before.

You blinked in disorientation, glancing around before meeting Halsin’s golden-brown eyes. He was smiling, warm and full of quiet amusement.

“Welcome back,” he said softly.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I turned into a plant again, didn’t I?”

Halsin chuckled, offering you a hand to help you to your feet. “You did. A particularly lovely fern, if I may say so. I’ve spent the better part of the day tending to you.”

Your cheeks flushed as you noticed the circle of stones. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening.

“How could I not? You’re my heart, no matter your form.” He stepped closer, resting a hand gently on your cheek. “Besides, it gave me an excuse to dote on you.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “I’ll try to keep the wild magic under control next time.”

“Do as you must,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “But know that if it happens again, I’ll be here. I’ll always care for you, no matter how many leaves you sprout.”

Managed to get this one out for you all, I am hoping to post a christmas BG3 imagine post thingy at some point, my life is just chaos rn. Thank you all for checking in on me, I truly appreciate every single one of you. Hope you enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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justhereforxreaders · 5 months ago

Text

The Prince and the Dragon Rider - Part One: The Oath

Jacaerys Velaryon x dragon rider!reader

Summary: after three years of peaceful living on Dragonstone, Prince Jacaerys stumbles upon an answer to his growing anxieties of mastering dragonriding. But when this new companion is discovered prematurely, how will the Princess respond?

Warnings: mentions of blood loss and wounds

soundtrack

part two: tempest

part three: the dawn

part four: the test

part five: precipice

part six: pieces and players

part seven: the rift

You stand silently in the throne room of Dragonstone awaiting judgment while a storm rages outside the black stone walls. Two kingsguard are posted at the large doors opposite the throne. Their eyes fixed on your small, shivering frame. A flash of lightning followed closely by the crack of thunder causes you to jump and one of the kingsguard calls out to you from across the room.

“We said be still!”

You nod curtly and continue to stare out the windows at the rain. Tears begin to flow against your will as another bolt of lightning strikes nearby and you try your best to remain still.

This is not what I wanted. You think to yourself, reflecting upon the events that led you to be separated from your dragon and now, possibly, from your closest friend.

Jacaerys Valeryon had discovered you and your dragon living within the natural caverns beneath the fortress of Dragonstone nearly four moons. The two of you became quick friends, meeting in secret to train one another. He had witnessed your skills on dragonback firsthand when he and Vermax happened upon you and your dragon one morning before the sun had risen. Your deftness alone would have been enough to impress the young Prince but after watching the two of you dive into the sea to escape their curious pursuit, he knew he needed to seek you out. In exchange, he had offered you the chance to hone your skills in combat. Being common born, your abilities with a blade were much more crude than those of the knight trained prince. You relished the opportunity to learn how to properly defend yourself.

You are pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the ornate doors swinging open. A small procession of colorful lords file into the great hall surrounded by armored knights that begin to peel off in pairs to stand along the walls as they approach. The last two take positions on either side of you. Once the guards are in their places, a caller steps forth to announce the silver haired woman standing alone in the doorway.

“Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of her name, heir to the Iron Throne!”

The caller bellows throughout the room while the woman walks with purpose through the grand hall to take her place upon the throne. Once seated she meets your gaze. You cast your eyes down to the black stone below.

“This council has been brought together to address the matter of this child’s involvement in the endangerment and injury of my son, the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,” her voice becomes shaky when she says his name but she does her best to gain her composure before addressing you directly, “What do you have to say in your defense?”

You hesitate for a moment, steadying yourself with a breath while trying to remember what you had intended to say. But when you look up to see tears welling up in the Princess’s eyes, only one thought fills your mind.

“Is Jace going to be alright?” You ask timidly.

“That does not answer the Princess’s question, child,” snaps a silver haired man standing below the throne. “We want to know how this happened.”

The Princess’s eyes remain fixed on you. She examines you carefully as you wipe the lingering tears from your face and begin recounting everything.

“The Prince and I have been training together for quite some time.” The Princess raises an eyebrow at this but you continue, “We flew out to practice on dragonback this morning when the wind rose up quickly around us. We couldn’t outrun the storm and when it consumed us, we were both thrown into the sea. The dragons were nowhere to be seen, whisked away by the tempest, so we began making our way to shore but-” you shutter and grow silent, remembering the deep wounds carved into your friend’s shoulder. “Jacaerys had been injured. I believe Vermax may have tried to take hold of him as he fell. He lost consciousness during the swim and I carried him the rest of the way.”

Once the words leave your mouth there is a beat of silence before you begin to sob, the horror fresh in your mind of Jace going limp in your arms. You can barely hear the low murmurs that flurry around the room until the Princess brings them all to a halt.

“How could you be training on dragonback? Were you both astride Vermax?” The Princess calls down to you from the throne, her tone shifting from sorrow to accusatory.

You freeze while the tears continue to pour. Jace had recently begun trying to convince you to reveal yourself to his mother. He was certain you would be offered a proper bed to sleep in but when the subject of revealing your dragon was brought into question, he was unsure of how the Princess and her second husband would respond to someone outside their blood to being bonded to a dragon. The discussion ended shortly after expressing this to you.

Now faced with this dilemma, without Jace’s guidance, you decide to remain honest. Still holding onto the glimmer of hope that you will find acceptance and refuge among this family.

“No, Your Grace, I was riding my own dragon.”

Amidst the uproar, the man with silver hair draws his sword and storms down the steps toward you.

“Who are you to have claimed one of our dragons? We should have your hands you thief!”

“Daemon, no!” The Princess shouts and the room falls silent once again.

The man stops his advance but his sword is still drawn in your direction.

“I am no thief,” you manage to say with a quivering voice. “My mother was an acolyte of the priests of R’hllor on the outskirts of Asshai. When I was six years of age, a lord came to our temple to enlist the help of the red priests in hatching a dragon egg.”

Another round of concerned whispers echo throughout the hall.

“I know not who the lord was or where he acquired the egg. It made no difference as during the ritual the temple caught fire, leaving myself and my dragon as the only survivors to emerge from the ashes. We had been traveling west across Essos together for nearly eight years until she finally led me to this island four moons ago.”

The man, who you now identify as Daemon, looks you up and down and begins speaking a language you cannot understand. When he meets your eyes and sees your confusion, he scoffs and turns to Princess Rhaenrya. They have a brief exchange in the foreign language before they are cut off by a frantic man in robes entering the room.

“The prince has awoken,” he exclaims, out of breath.

Rhaenyra immediately stands and makes haste to the door, followed closely by her guard. However, Daemon stays put in front of you.

“We shall reconvene at a later time,” the Princess calls over her shoulder as she exits the room. “See this child placed in a room under watch until-“

“Wait, no!” You cry out, interrupting the Princess. With the relief of knowing that Jacaerys is alive and conscious, the fear of your dragon’s safety fills the entirety of your being. “Please let me return home! I need to know if my dragon is safe.”

Her and Daemon make eye contact above your head.

“We cannot allow you to leave until a decision can be made,” she says plainly, a slight look of remorse flashes across her face, before she disappears out the door without a second glance.

The lords disperse around you. All except Daemon who still stands with his sword drawn.

“How do you command a dragon of you do not speak High Valyrian?”

“I don’t,” you reply, confusion evident in your voice, “I have been at her mercy since she grew large enough to ride. I have simply trusted her instincts.”

He chuckles lightly, “I wonder then, if you were to make a command of her, would she return that sentiment? Would she trust your instincts? Is she truly bonded to you? Or were you a convenient mean for survival?”

He sheaths his sword and walks away from you, taking a seat on the steps below the throne. The guards at your sides escort you out of the hall, leaving Daemon’s questions to rattle around in your mind.

- - - - -

Dragon-riding was an art that did not come naturally to Prince Jacaerys. He had been so relieved when his family left King’s Landing, as it meant he no longer would be sharing dragon keeper lessons with his spiteful uncles. This relief was short lived however, as once Vhagar had been claimed by Aemond, a frantic drive to master the sky filled his entire being. Once Vermax became large enough to ride, he trained often and obsessively, stealing the joy from what was previously a childhood dream of the young prince. Until he began training with you.

Although he initially approached your training with the same urgency, he soon found an unexpected solace riding alongside you. With you, it never felt like a burden or duty. It felt like freedom. It felt like peace. You had turned the sky into a safe haven.

Which is why the sight of you being thrown from your dragon in the middle of that storm was on an endless loop in his mind while he fell in and out of consciousness. Despite the pain of the maesters working on his wounds, he wouldn’t allow himself to be pulled into sleep until he knew you were safe. Thankfully, once their work was complete and the discomfort from their treatment had ended, he was able to fully recover his mind from that haunting vision.

He sat up slowly in his bed, head still spinning, to see the maesters cleaning up their instruments.

“What happened? How did I get here?” He mutters.

The maesters whip their heads towards the prince at the sound of his voice and the room buzzes back into action.

“Inform the Princess!” Grand Maester Gerardys commands to the room before taking place at Jace’s bedside. “Steady, my Prince, the wound is freshly stitched and you’ve lost much blood.” He attempts to help the boy back down but Jace protests.

“No,” he mumbles, using his good arm to weakly bat away the Grand Maesters hands. “Tell me what happened.”

Gerardys sighs. “You were found wounded on the beach with a stranger who refused to leave your side.”

The rest of the memory flashes through Jace’s head. The gust of wind and rain that ripped him from his dragon’s back, the pain of Vermax’s claws in his shoulder, finding you in the cold water, your arm around his body as he grew even colder.

“Where is y/n?” His eyes snap open.

“Taken before the council to face judgment for your endangerment.” The maester gives up the fight with his stubborn patient and returns to his supplies laid out on the table.

“But-” Jacaerys begins before being cut off by his mother.

“Jace!” She cries as she burst through the door and runs to his side, embracing him as gently as she can manage.

“Mother, where is y/n? They have done nothing wrong, they saved my life.” He takes a moment to catch his breath after the words tumble out of his mouth. Still struggling to keep his grip on the waking world.

Rhaenyra releases her son and she looks over him. Her face grows stern at the mention of your name, which she had neglected to ask for.

“And why was your life at risk in the first place? Who is this dragonrider that you’ve kept secret from me? And why trust a stranger to train you over Daemon or myself?”

Jacaerys turns away sheepishly, trying not to dive too deeply into the sliver of joy he had found in your presence. “Y/n is my friend, not a stranger. As well as a skilled dragonrider.”

“How could you know that Jace? How do we know this isn’t a trap set by our enemies?”

He considers this briefly. Trying to determine how he can convince his mother that you are not a threat to them. Wishing desperately to cite the countless occurrences of your trustworthiness and honor that he has already witnessed. But he knows that it is not just his mother that he is speaking to. He is also speaking to the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And the Queen cannot afford to place that much faith in the feelings of a young man. So instead, he decides to respond like a future king.

“Why would our enemies want us to gain such a powerful advantage? Supplying our cause with a large dragon and a masterful rider does them no favors.” Prince Jacaerys states.

Rhaenyra is taken aback by Jace’s strategic thinking. She looks over his face and ponders his words while tracing the healed scar down her arm. A bitter reminder of her own betrayal by someone she once held dear.

“Do you trust this person with your safety? With the safety of your family?” Rhaenyra questions, her eyes momentarily welling up against her will.

Jacaerys meets her gaze and nods solemnly. The Princess grabs her son’s hand tenderly.

“If this to be our decision; to allow an outsider to inherit the power of our house…” she pauses, trying to find the right words. “Then this not an ally we can afford to lose. And we must ensure their loyalty to my claim to the throne, as well as your own.”

- - - - -

The room you are placed in offers little comfort while you wait for your fate to be decided. Housed high in the tower, it sways ever so slightly with the wind. Exhaustion from the events of today combined with the gentle motion of the room threaten to lull you to sleep but the distress at being away from your dragon for the first time in years keeps you from finding any rest. You sit on the hard floor with your back up against the wall, facing the door, counting the seconds between lightning strikes and rumbles of thunder.

A knock on the door startles you and you spring to your feet as a kingsguard steps through the doorway followed closely by Princess Rhaenyra. You notice her face appears less grim than it had been in the throne room. She examines you from head to toe then finds your eyes. They soften ever so slightly before she speaks.

“Jacaerys is resting and the maesters are confident he will make a full recovery.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and nod at the Princess’s words but the worry still lingers on your face. She continues.

“We have also received word that Vermax has returned to the dragonmont with a large black dragon in tow. Both weary but seemingly unharmed.”

You gasp as though this is the first real breath you’ve taken all day and place your hands over your eyes as tears flow freely down your face. Their intensity dies down, however, as you recall the Princess’s final words to you in front of her council. A new dread fills your stomach.

“And what is to be done with me?” You ask in as neutral a tone as you can manage, dropping your hands from your eyes but still staring intently at the stone below.

The Princess lets out a heavy sigh and takes a step closer to you.

“We would ask that you swear an oath of loyalty. Declare fealty to House Targaryen and to myself as heir to the Iron Throne. And for this you will be granted permission to serve our house as a dragonrider.”

You shake your head, trying to comprehend her words.

“And what would my service entail? What would be expected of me?”

“The same that I ask of every lord and lady sworn to me. As well as every member of my family that commands a dragon; that should this house become threatened, they will heed the call to arms and meet the enemy with fire and blood.” Her voice becomes foreboding as she recites the words of her house. Indicating to you that this is less of a choice you are being offered, and more a sentence that you are being served.

“Though I hope such a need will never come,” she adds, trying to lighten her tone.

Your thoughts turn to your dragon and the years you have spent protecting each other. You may not speak the same language but you know you trust her with every fiber of your being. And, although the gods may have left a foul taste in your mouth for prophecy and purpose, you do believe she chose you as her rider for a reason. If taking this oath is the only way you can continue to be allowed to live alongside your dragon, then so be it.

You raise your head, sparing a quick glance at the kingsguard, before your eyes meet with the Princess’s. “I am at your service, Princess.”

“We are glad to have it, y/n.” She says with sincerity. “The hour has grown late, let us see you to a more suitable chamber.” She turns and begins walking out the door, beckoning you to follow.

You fall into line behind her down the winding stairs.

“Once you are settled,” she calls over her shoulder, “if you are not spent, I can take you to the dragonmont.”

You nod fervently and small smile flashes across her face.

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #hotd #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x you #jacaerys valaryon x reader #jacaerys x y/n #friends to lovers #slow burn #queer yearning #nonbinary reader #dragon rider

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