#little brother/son so no one would have to worry about him / so he wouldn't stress shige out and just. yEAH

[that-was-anticlimactic]

okay so hear me out: one of ritsu’s tics is scratching. just like... imagining him scratching himself subconsciously all the time and he can’t stop even when he realizes it because it’s a compulsion. he tends to scratch his hands and knuckles and wrists a lot and it just gets worse the more stressed or anxious or overwhelmed he gets. and sometimes he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until someone points it out or mentions that he’s bleeding.

and thinking about that being a tic he’s not great at suppressing so he does his best to hide it from his family (he doesn’t care about that one at school as much because he could easily lie his way out of that one) so they don’t realize it’s a problem until one day when ritsu walks into spirits and such with blood caking and dripping from his hands (maybe during final exams or he’s in the midst of an anxiety/tic attack or maybe he’s just really overwhelmed with everything on his plate) and. y eah.

[satansdarlin]

Op men as dads

IM NOT DEAD! I've been working on requests and also doing school so I havent had much time to post much recently but I thought I'd drop this little treat for you all while I work.

(I was inspired ✨️)

Sanji, zoro, luffy, usopp, ace

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, talk of labor, talk of neglect, talk of anxiety, talk of premature baby's, talk of premature side effects.

Masterlist

Sanji- twin daughters

Girl dad to the extreme

Okay okay so let's start off when you were pregnant

He was incredibly doting, literally wouldn't let you lift a finger for anything

Tons of research on safe foods for pregnancy and also learning how to properly make baby food

When the girls were born it was the first time sanji discovered that feeling of such a need to protect them

They were so tiny and had his blonde hair and blue eyes

Either gives them zeffs last name or yours

Their names? Éclaire (or Claire for short) Sora and Suzette Rei

Very much princess standard

Spoils them as much a humanly possible

When they grow up he teaches them all the stuff he knows how to cook and actually begins making a cookbook soley so his girls can have it when they are adults

Claire tends to be the flirter one out of the twins often making sanji chase off all sorts of boys and men from his princess

Suzette tends be more withdrawn. She prefers to stick to the kitchen helping her dad anywhere she can

Both of them are huge daddies girls

Zoro- triplets, two boys one girl

Zoro through most of the pregnancy was calm and collected.

Another one who refused to let you do anything without his hand on your hip

He did the pregnant belly lift for you all the time

All shit goes down when you actually give birth

Zoro had been expecting one baby but when two more popped out he panicked

Absolutely wants to train them personally

Their names? Shogi Korushiro Roronoa, Menko Arashi Roronoa, and his daughter Karuta kumia Roronoa

Shogi is the eldest of the triplets and even though it's only by a few minutes he really takes being the eldest sibling seriously. He looks over his siblings and trains the most so he can protect them and be as great as his dad one day

Menko tends to be the lazy one. Menko can and will take a nap everywhere and anywhere he can. Sanji once found him sleeping in kitchen cabinet on a bag of rice.

Karuta feels the need to stay on her brothers level. She takes her training even more seriously than shogi does. Zoro is more than pleased to train her but even he worries about her over doing it to keep up.

The triplets also see chopper almost as a older brother

Zoro decided if he was to pass away ever each of the triplets would get one of his swords.

Luffy- two sons

Lord.

During your pregnancy it was really confusing for luffy about around the time you started showing he began to realize

He is constantly lettering Sabo filling him in and asking questions

Luffy became more protective of you when you were pregnant literally barked at someone for getting too close once

When you go into labor he is right by your side.

After you gave birth to your first son, Monkey D Ace luffy was suprised at how small he was.

Luffy was surprisingly gentle but that didn't change much of his childish ways

The baby would scream sometimes just because luffy would scream back (there's this video of twins who yell to figure out if the other is near, kinda like that)

When you got pregnant the second time when ace was around age two luffy understood it a lot more.

He did his best to not stress you with the baby and this time it went a lot smoother.

He knew what to expect in the delivery room the second time when your second son, Monkey D Ademir, came into the world

Ace tends be rambunctious, running into trouble much like his father with a similar appetite, but he also knows the weight of his name and so he holds it with pride

Ademir is similar to his brother and father, but he also tends to be far more brutally honest than ace.

Both boys tend to lean towards you though. Surprisingly, they tend to listen to you more than their father although it's a shocking sight when luffy is actually telling them to do something

Usopp- premature boy

Anxiety ten times higher than normal

When you found out you were pregnant usopp used his anxious energy to start making things

Baby clothes? Got it. Crib? Got it. Toys? Got it. With the help of Franky converted a large storage closet into a baby room.

Imagine his panic when the baby room wasn't even half done when you went into labor.

The labor was brutal on both you and usopp. But eventually his son, Shinji took in his first breaths.

For the first few months of life the crew fussed over shinji constantly due to his prematurely he had a hard time breathing and needed far more cuddling than a normal baby.

Usopp would stay up all night just making sure his son was breathing after he had read a book that said children born premature could pass away easily

Shinji pulled through. And unfortunately became the most brutally honest person anyone had ever met. He gave luffy a run for his money about not being able to tell a lie

Shinji would run and tell you all about the acts his father wasn't supposed to get up to even small ones like sneaking a extra treat after dinner.

Even so usopp coddled his son constantly

When shinji took a interest in art and carving usopp nearly cried because they had a shared interest.

Becoming a father made usopp realize how truly messed up what his own father did was.

Usopp understood having his own goal while being a parent would make it harder but he would never abandon his son or you to achevie them. He'd prefer to achieve them with you by his side.

Ace- daughter

Ace panicked when he found out you were growing his child inside of you.

The ship was on fire type of panic

Ran you straight to Marco who checked you out and congratulated you when he confirmed the pregnancy.

Ace similarly to luffy was incredibly protective.

You were never out of his sight and if you were he had someone checking on you hourly.

His coddling was almost suffocating.

When you went into labor, more fires had to be put out on the ship.

Marco nearly had to remove ace from the room because he was freaking out more than you were.

The one time ace settled down was when his newborn daughter nuzzled her face against his warm chest, Rouge D Portgas named after his mother.

Rouge lived up to her name, she frequently made the ship panic because no one could find her only to find her snuggled up in between some barrels.

Ace sworn the night Rouge was born he would never let her go through the things he did as a child.

Ace was a amazing father often having her up on his shoulders and would cry with her when she had to go get her shots or got scrapes.

Spoilers ahead

When ace died Rouge went into Marco's care. The only thing she had left of her father was his hat which she wears constantly.

Although Rouge goes through a similar thing of being bullied for her father she is prideful of his father and who he was.

Spoilers over

Overall ace tries to be the best dad he can be.

[klbwriting]

Combining Two Worlds

Chapter 14: At Peace

Fandom: DCEU

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Note: a short and sweet end to this fic. I hope you enjoyed this series and watch out for my new Orm fic coming soon! Will be more chill than this one and more surface related. Also, fun GIF for the end because its just so funny

Orm wasn't sure what happened, his vision was blurry and he couldn't keep conscious for very long. He heard someone come into the room through the wall. Ludo had stabbed him again, dragging the knife down his chest. Then he was in and out, seeing glimpses of guards, a vessel, a bright room. Then he heard a familiar voice.

"Come on baby brother, wakey wakey," Arthur said. Orm's eyes opened slowly, still feeling heavy. "There he is, come on, we have to get you moving." Orm shook his head to free the fog he had.

"Y/N, where is she?" he asked, starting to panic. The last thing she had seen was him getting stabbed, she must be frantic. Did she know he was alive? Was she alright? What about his daughter? Arthur put a hand to Orm's shoulder.

"She is nearby, you'll have to go to her though. She is still on bed rest," he said. Orm felt even more worried.

"Bed rest?" he asked. Arthur nodded, helping Orm to stand. His shoulder was killing him and his face was still bandaged but his legs worked fine. He and Arthur slowly made their way down the hall where Mera was waiting outside a door.

"We've been waiting for you to be well enough to wake," she said.

"How long was I out?" he asked. Mera held up 3 fingers. "Three days? What happened to Y/N? Is the baby alright?"

"Come on and see for yourself," she said, opening the door and leading him in the room.

Y/N was sitting up, smiling as the door opened. She wanted to jump up and hug him, but that was difficult when there was a tiny Atlantian in her arms. Orm stared for a moment before approaching slowly.

"Velka?" he asked softly. She shook her head and he looked confused.

"Velka is in the incubator," she said, nodding towards the wall. Orm had been so focused on Y/N and the baby he didn't notice the other baby. "They were so early, they need extra care, but they're alright, they will grow just fine. This is your son."

"My...son?" he asked, knowing that if he were on the surface he would have tears in his eyes. "What's his name?"

"I haven't named him, I wanted you to wake up first," she said. "I thought maybe you could name him." Orm looked at his son, gently taking him into his arms.

"Arthur," he said softly. "I wouldn't be here right now to see him without my brother. His name is Arthur."

"O damn...I'm crying," Arthur said softly, walking over and seeing his nephew, arm wrapping around Orm's shoulders. "This is an honor little brother." Orm smiled softly, kissing his boy's head before moving to the incubator and looking at his daughter.

"They're both beautiful," he said. He turned to Y/N. "Are you alright? The attack..."

"The stress of seeing you tortured put me into early labor, but when I heard you were safe, that Arthur had you and that Ludo was dead..."

"Dead?" Orm looked to Arthur.

"He did it to himself, energy pulse," Arthur said. "Didn't want to be in prison again." Orm nodded, feeling pity for the boy. He was young and abused and just wanted to be in control of something. Orm understood that more than he cared to admit. It might as well have been him in Ludo's place. "I got you back here and we were able to get you stabilized and then well, your wife was a badass and brought these little miracles into the world."

"They are miracles, aren't they?" Atlanna said, coming over to look at her new grandchildren. "I cannot imagine being any happier. Well, I know we all will be in a few months time when Mera has her little girl." Orm looked at his sister in law.

"A girl?" he asked. Mera nodded, Arthur coming to her side. "I hope this means we can take a break for awhile, just be happy."

"We will, next time someone tries to start shit I am going to just stab them with the trident and be done with it," Arthur said. Orm nodded and sat in the chair nearby, holding his son with one arm while he took his wife's hand. This was true happiness and he was finally at peace.

[omnidemidisaster]

Kevin x Spouse reader

Request! This is a part two to "Our Future". Idk whether to make the reader female or male cause both have very different ways of having children so ill try my best to make it neutral. Yes I'm still going with Ross and Kevin being brothers. Why, cause I can

Slight spoilers for Tender Treats

"Our now"

It seemed like just yesterday Kevin talked with you about marriage and having a child. Now you were both married, with rings like he promised. After the wedding, you and Kevin agreed to wait til you both have enough money ( The wedding costed quite a bit ) then try for kids. Kevin was perfectly fine with that.

Now, it was just you and him, laying on your shared bed as you both usually did. You were watching TV and cuddling up with each other.

Kevin was on his phone looking through article after article on how to start out with parenting, unintentionally stressing himself out a bit. He ended up putting his phone down for a moment.

"Hey hon?" You let out a "Hmm?" He sighed. "Do you think I would be a good dad?" You muted the TV and turned your body, still cuddled up on his arms, and looked at him. "Of course, why?"

He looked a little anxious. "Its just I'm nervous. I've wanted a child since that talk and I still want one now, but I don't know if I'm even going to be a decent father. I mean I drink, I have a temper, I'm overworked and tired. How can I not think I might be less than good"

You put a hand on his cheek. "Honey, I can promise you will be an amazing father" You said. "I know how amazing you'll be. Your only looking at the negative aspects of yourself. They are there, yes. But thats only one part of you. I know there's more to you than anger"

He looked down at you with a slight glimmer of hope. "Let's see, your very kind and gentle. You clearly care about kids, even when they do wrong. I mean those kids that stole candy from you, I saw you talk with the kid that stole the candy and you looked like you were comforting him, which might I add worked"

He looked down, recalling that situation. Roy had come to him to vent about his parents, in which Kevin provided a shoulder to lean on and kind words. By the end of Roy's visit, he looked much more happier than when he came in.

"And what about those two Halloween kids? I saw you lecture them, then immediately tried to protect them from that cannibal guy. They piss you off but I know that you know that you'll protect them from anything in a heartbeat"

Now that you were right about. Those two kids piss him off to no end, but he can't bring himself to really hate them that much just to leave them at the hands of death. He knows that someone at home cares for those two boys and he personally wouldn't want someone not to make sure his kid was okay.

"Oh, what about Ross, your little brother? I've seen you sometimes ignore me just to talk with him. Not that I'm mad about that. He's your brother, of course you would want to talk with him. I see how much Ross means to you and hell you sometimes treat him like your own son"

Kevin nodded. Ross did mean so much to him. He doesn't care that he is only 8 years older than Ross, he sees Ross like his baby brother. Hell Ross could be 50 and he would still be his baby brother. He loves him to death, how could he not?

"And even outside of those kids, I know that your very sensitive and I know that you are very loving. You don't have to worry about if your gonna be a bad father. Sure it's nerve wrecking, hell I'm nervous too, but you don't have to worry. If I know anything about this, its that we are gonna be just fine"

Kevin smiled and kissed your cheek. "Thanks hon" You smiled and kissed him back, this time on his lips.

[thedawningofthehour]

I was really sure we wouldn't have a chapter today, waking up and seeing the chapter notification was really surprising and scary.

'Bella is still under arrest and it looks like Pax went to live with Draxum'.

I WANTED ONE THING, FAI!!! ONE THING!!!

Northampton Arch!

Not Northampton Arch.

I love April's parents, if anything bad ever happens to them I will resent you for the rest of the series.

Nice to see Mr. Bone again, definitely a great character, hope he can still reconcile with his brother in this reality as well. Don suave could be super useful. What are your headcanon about the guy.

'Draxum has not let him be seen, Or mentioned his name. Pray that continues'

Yeahh, Donnie will have a hard time even if the court pardons him. The boy will not only have to deal with the emotional burden, but also with the fact that many people hate him for what he did even if he was brainwashed.

Finally we get to see the repercussions of Draxum's actions more closely, God, it reminds me so much of the Mutant town arc. You said book 3 will focus more on donnie, right? I hope he gets a closer glimpse of what Draxum's war is causing.

Again, poor people, their lives took a 180° turn thanks to Draxum, and not because they are now mutants the Yokai will accept them just like that, and Draxum is too focused on his goal of mutating everyone to see it.

Lita! No Wait, Jenny! JENNY!!! as in JENIKA!!!?

Poor Raph, they should give him a pizza for every time they mistake him for an adult.

Ending up with a turtle power is the sweetest and most beautiful thing ever and you should never feel bad about it.

I've honestly been surprised by how much I got into writing the O'Neils. Originally I just put them in because I was making April a very prominent character and either I constantly show her making excuses and whatnot to keep them off her back or I imply that she's hella neglected. Which-people have done neglected April before and it works great for them, but I thought it would be simpler to just have them meet the fam and get it over with.

Simpler. Lol.

I've really enjoyed writing their dynamic, especially in this last chapter. They do fight, of course they do, all married couples argue. They're extremely stressed out, worried about their daughter and three bonus sons, and deeply worried and mourning for the bonus son they haven't gotten to meet. But they're good people with healthy communications and whatnot, and they still use little terms of endearment and show affection and are still generally in love after being married for probably twenty years.

And they're so parent-coded. They were perfectly happy being one and done, but these boys are children 2-5 now.

I mean, depends on how homosexual you think Bishop is? I feel like he's one of those asexuals who wields their asexuality like a weapon. Don Suave tries to seduce him and he just pulls out his pistol and shoots his dick off.

I was thinking of mentioning the Hueso-Piel reconciliation later on, but it would be a pretty minor thing. Probably just a mention and Piel walking around in the background. Shit's getting real, it's dumb to hang onto stupid brotherly feuds when your brother might die tomorrow.

Lol, that's why I made her a yellow-bellied slider. I kind of liked the idea of Leo having other slider mutants around, considering they're such popular pets and more people would have slider DNA on their person verses alligator snappers or softshells. We can say that Jenny grows up to be a fearsome crimefighter herself. But right now she's six.

[fics-n-stuff-n-stuff]

Natsu Dragneel/Lucy Heartfilia Gray Fullbuster/Juvia Lockser Levy McGarden/Gajeel Redfox

all fairy tail characters basically

CharacterAlternate Universe -

Modern with Magic

Fluff and Angst / Romance / Friendship / developing feelings / Lucy has new spirits I checked constellations and gave her ones I thought were cool

Summary

Lucy is thrown into a world she didn’t know existed. Join her as she unravels this new world full of magic that brings adventure, romance and destruction along with it.

———

Just a modern re-telling of Fairy tail following its arcs with a few twists and turns along the way💞

You can also read it here

—————————————————

Chapter 14

Natsu was not used to being this stressed out about another person's well-being.

Well, that is if you don't count Happy.

But the exceed was like a brother/son to him, and he's raised the fur-ball since he'd hatched, so it was natural to worry about the little guy.

It seems the whole ordeal with Phantom Lord left Natsu a little on edge when it came to Lucy. It was so easy for them to take her during the attack, and by the time he found her, she was so battered and bruised.

Natsu never wanted to witness that again.

Ever since Lucy's first disappearance when she was taken by Juvia, he's had an irrational fear of going to her apartment and not finding her there.

Add on everything that they've found out about her family, and that her father was the one behind the attacks, and it all left Natsu feeling a little paranoid.

But could you blame him?

His partner seems to have a unique ability to attract trouble, which in retrospect shouldn't be a surprise for him, given with how they met, and with how well-suited she was for Fairy Tail, fitting in nicely with all the chaos.

Everyone here is a trouble magnet.

But even with all that aside, ever since he found out about it, there was a part of Natsu that feared Lucy's father coming after her, and him not being able to save her.

So when he walked into her empty apartment a few days ago, he knew something was wrong.

Natsu came over to see if she wanted to have breakfast with him and Happy, even though it was past noon by that point.

Looking around, he could tell that nothing in the apartment was out of place, and there was no sign of a struggle, she could've been at the guild for all he knew.

But his gut was telling him something different.

That's when he found the note on her coffee table. It was addressed to him, with an explanation for her absence and asking them to give her two days before coming after her.

Feeling a sense of panic overrun him, Natsu immediately took out his phone and tried calling her, hoping this was some sort of prank.

'She wouldn't actually go alone, would she?' He asked himself as he waited for her to pick up.

He heard the sound of her ringtone coming from her room, and as he followed the ringing, he saw Lucy's phone on the nightstand next to her bed.

Natsu hung up the call with a frustrated huff, flashes of different scenarios went through his head at the thought of Lucy in the clutches of her father.

The man hired Jose Porla to come after her, who knows what he's prepared to do now that she went to him willingly.

Considering Natsu was by no means a sensible creature, this just seemed to rattle him into overdrive.

Thinking back to it now, he doesn't regret marching to Fairy Tail and lying about her being kidnapped.

In fact, Natsu was 100% sure he would do it again.

He needed to know she was safe, and since she didn't bring her phone with her, this was his second-best option.

Sitting back, Natsu downed his Fire whiskey and looked down at his hand, where the ring she'd gotten him was sitting on his middle finger.

The dragon's ruby eyes seemed to twinkle back at him like it was going to start spewing fire at any moment.

Her present was a surprise to him.

Lucy hadn't even known about his affinity for gold or the hoard he had hidden away when she bought it for him. She had just seen a golden dragon and thought of him.

The fact that it was a fireproof ring just made it better.

He rarely wore jewelry because it usually ended up melted by his fire, thankfully he doesn't have to worry about this one.

He debated on whether he should wear it in fear of losing it, or just put it in his hoard for safekeeping.

In the end, he couldn't bring himself to bury the piece with his other treasures, Natsu wanted to proudly wear the gift his partner had picked out for him.

And he liked the fact that they were matching in a way.

He turned back to watch the crowd, or rather, to try and find Lucy amongst the sea of mages.

Spotting her golden hair in the crowd, he followed her with his eyes as she went around the guild, watching her with a smile on his face as she went from table to table talking, drinking, and laughing with everyone.

He watched as Levy pulled her up so they could dance to the song that was playing, the two girls spinning and laughing as they moved to the beat.

The New Year's party was in full swing, and while not everyone was wasted, there were a few of Cana's victims passed out under the tables.

'Poor souls, they never learn.' Natsu thought with a laugh as he spotted Makao sleeping cuddled next to an empty wine barrel.

Even he knew better than to challenge the card mage to a drinking competition.

There were no winners in that one.

Well, besides Cana.

Standing, Natsu made his way to the bar wanting another drink, and from the corner of his eye, he spotted Wendy approaching him through the crowd.

The sky drakon had been in an almost sullen mood for a few days and Natsu waited for her to come to talk to him if she needed to.

Sitting down at the bar, he ordered another drink from Mira and waited for Wendy to approach him.

The younger girl sat next to him after a few minutes and ordered a drink for herself. He waited for her to start the conversation, not wanting to push the young healer.

"Can I ask you a question?" Her voice was tentative as she spoke, and he nodded his head in response and turned to look at her. "I, I know you found a golden key in, well, you know." She said quietly, looking around and making sure no one was eavesdropping.

"I, well, I mean."

Her voice was small as she spoke, and she looked like she was in distress and Natsu turned to face her fully, so he could try and calm her down.

"I remember the first time Igneel took me to see his collection, I was blown away by the amount of trinkets and treasure." There was a nostalgic smile on his face as he turned to look at the wall and reminisced about the past. "He could barely get me to leave that first time."

Natsu chuckled at the memory of Igneel dragging him away from the cave, promising they would come back.

"Grandeeney would always let me pick something to take back with me when we visited hers." Wendy chimed in, her voice slightly shaky as she talked about her mother.

Natsu turned to look at the bluenette, and seeing the tears in her eyes he moved to place a hand on her shoulder. "Is that what's been bothering ya lately?" He asked her with a squeeze.

Wendy moved to wipe the tears that seemed to have escaped and shook her head. "No, it's just, at the Christmas Party, I saw you give Lucy a key from your hoard. And there was a nagging feeling that told me I had one too, but you know I don't collect gold."

Natsu nodded, intrigued to where this was going, and urged her to continue with his hands. "I went to look through it a few days ago, and well." She turned out her left pocket and in her palm was a golden zodiac key.

"I think it belongs to the constellation Capricorn." Wendy whispered before shoving the object back into her pocket. "I've had this with me for 4 days now. I just can't get myself to give it to Lucy."

The tears were welling in her eyes, and Wendy let her head fall to avoid his gaze, as if ashamed. "I know it's wrong, they belong with her. But it's a piece of Grandeeney's hoard, and it's hard saying goodbye to any part of it."

The young girl was crying at this point, and Natsu couldn't help but feel for her. He was not unfamiliar with those emotions, he felt the same way when he first connected the dots.

It was the combination of getting to know and trust Lucy better, and having Scutum say she was considered royalty in the Spirit Realm for him to finally understand the importance behind it, and find the key.

But something was also weird about all this.

There weren't a lot of records about Lucy and her magic. She's been trying to research with Levy for months with little luck, they've only managed to find scraps of information to put together.

Now it turns out both Igneel and Grandeeney had golden spirit keys in their possession, keys that once belonged to Lucy's mother.

Did she know both dragons? Did the spirits know something of their disappearance?

Shaking himself out of his thoughts Natsu moved slowly, so as not to startle the crying girl, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and brought her into a gentle hug.

"It was hard for me too. I figured out I had a key months ago. I debated on what I should do with it for a long time."

He let out an almost bitter huff of air before continuing. "I understand what you're going through, and I'm not gonna tell you to give it to her." He pauses for a moment, making sure she got his point. "But we both know it's what they would have wanted."

Natsu's tone was as gentle as he could make it, but it still made Wendy cry even harder, clutching his shirt as she did.

It was hard for him to watch her like this, Natsu generally didn't like anyone crying around him, he just felt awkward. But he viewed Wendy as a sort of younger sister and wanted to try his best to comfort her.

"It's why they made sure we have them."

He tried a different approach this time. "I don't know how, but they knew we would meet Lucy one day, and they knew we would do the right thing." He pushed on her shoulders gently so that she would move back to look at him.

Natsu sent her a beaming smile, knowing the young healer would understand.

"Plus, it's not like you're giving it away to a stranger. It's Lucy, she always has her keys with her. This way, you get to see a little reminder of Grandeeney every day and know she would be proud of you for giving it to its owner!"

He shared his reasoning with her and the younger girl finally cracked a genuine smile back, her tears stopped, and her breathing was evening out.

"You're right. I know it's hard for you to talk about them. So, thank you Natsu." Wendy said as she wiped her cheeks dry.

Natsu just smiled back at her and moved to ruffle her hair. "Anytime kiddo, you know I'm always here for you."

* ********* ********** ********** ********* *

Coming back from Crocus was quick, thanks to the portal, and upon arrival, Lucy found herself at the receiving end of a long lecture from Master Makarov about the importance of knowing when to do things alone, and when to ask for help.

Followed by a few more lectures by Mira, Levy, and Lisanna about never scaring them like that again, the girls making Lucy promise to always bring her phone with her.

Even Cana had a few choice words about Lucy's little scare.

Lucy apologized profusely to everyone, promising not to scare them like that again, and then went on to tell the guild all about how her trip back home went.

Natsu and Gray found it hilarious that she managed to scare her father into agreeing to her terms, and Erza seemed proud of her bravery.

Everyone else was stunned to learn about her family and supposed status, but Lucy told them that was her past, and no longer applies.

She was just, Lucy of Fairy Tail now.

After retelling the events from her visit and answering all of the questions they had, Lucy finally had the chance to open the box Spetto had given her.

Inside she found two golden keys and a letter from her mother.

Lucy immediately tucked the envelope in her purse, not feeling ready to read her mother's words yet.

Something told her it would only lead to more questions and headaches, instead of any kind of answer.

Taurus and Sagittarius were her newest companions, and while the former was a bit of a pervert, and the latter looked even more ridiculous in his horse costume than she remembered, Lucy was extremely happy to have more of her mother's friends back with her.

Her collection was growing faster than she had expected.

When she first learned about magic and how rare her abilities seemed to be in this world, she thought that it would be impossible to find any gate keys.

But somehow they all end up finding her instead.

The whole guild surrounded Lucy when they noticed her preparing to summon her new spirits, always eager to see her use her magic.

She summoned them one at a time.

Lucy she still couldn't open two golden keys at once no matter how hard she trained.

It always ended up with her unconscious.

She was able to keep Scutum's gate open along with one golden key, which was an improvement!

Everyone watched in awe as she sent Taurus back in a flash of golden light, and summoned Sagittarius so they could form a contract.

They all seemed so fascinated by her abilities, and while she still couldn't understand how it was any more impressive than anything else they could do, she didn't mind the audience.

It was kind of sweet that they were so enthralled by it.

* ********* ********** ********** ********* *

Lucy was still getting used to the partying tempo of Fairy Tail, but she was having fun nonetheless.

They had been drinking for more than half the day but the night was still young, and Lucy found herself dancing with Levy in the middle of the guild hall, surrounded by fellow guild mates as they all celebrated the coming of the new year.

Natsu had been in a good mood all day, and even bought her and Happy breakfast before they headed to the guild for the party.

Thought, he has been a tad overbearing and overprotective since her little adventure in Crocus.

He was at her apartment first thing in the morning, always by her side when they were together, following her with his gaze when they were on opposite ends of the room.

And while, admittedly, it was how he usually acted around her, there is more of an intensity to it now.

Lucy could sense the tension and worry that would sometimes project from him, and she felt guilty every time.

She knew he was rattled by the Phantom attack, and with his father's disappearance, she never considered how leaving like that would affect him.

Even with her note, he was worried about what her father was going to do to her.

And while Lucy would like to think he was just overreacting, she also knew what her father was capable of.

"Hey, let's go get a drink?" Levy's voice brought her out of her head, and she realized she stopped dancing and was just standing in the middle of the floor.

Lucy looked around the dancing bodies surrounding them and turned to nod at Levy. "Sure."

The two made their way to the bar and tried to order their drinks from Mira, who seemed busy chatting with a blonde Lucy had never met before today.

Apparently, he was the master's grandson.

Laxus Dreyar.

He was a tall, brooding and muscular man with a lightning scar over his right eye.

Lucy didn't get to talk to him all that much, besides a basic introduction. He seemed nice enough, a little rough around the edges maybe. There was actually something about the man that reminded her of Gajeel the tiniest bit.

His team, the Thunder Legion, returned from a year-long mission just this morning, and everyone was excited to have them back, it seemed like the New Year's party was going to be even wilder than planned because of their return.

Lucy met all of the Thunder Legion, and they seemed like an interesting bunch, it made her wonder how such different people formed a team.

They all appear to be fond of each other though.

Evergreen was a tad snobbish, but it reminded Lucy of home in a weird way, Freed was a complete gentleman and Lucy was looking forward to getting to him, and Bickslow was a little odd, but he looked like a fun guy.

They were some of the strongest mages in the guild, from what she managed to overhear, and that made her a little scared as to what kind of monsters were out there.

If there were stronger mages here in Fairy Tail than the ones she's already met? Lucy doesn't want to meet any of the ones roaming outside of the guild.

"So, what's got you all in your head?" Levy asked her as they waited for Lisanna to bring them their drinks.

"Is that why Mira laughed when I gave her my present?" Lucy asked pointing over her shoulder, trying to avoid the topic.

Levy raised a brow at her, looking over Lucy's shoulder at where the take-over mage was flirting with the blonde, before turning back to look at Lucy.

"Don't think I don't see what you're doing." The short bluenette warned her, sternly pointing her index finger at Lucy. "But to answer your question, yes, but not for the reason you think." She told her with a wink, and now Lucy was even more confused.

"What does that mean?" Lucy almost whined as she went to take a sip from her cocktail. "Uh, uh. No. I answered your question, now you tell me what's going on."

Lucy huffed out, crossing her arms as she did, and slumped slightly forward. "It's nothing serious. Just, Natsu's been a little..." she trailed off, not really knowing how to describe the fire drakon's recent actions.

He acted the same as always towards her, it was just more intense, and sometimes even with a sense of panic.

"Possessive? Overprotective? Downright scary at times?" Levy finished her sentence, checking off each one on her fingers as she did.

Lucy felt a blush forming on her cheeks, looking around to check if anyone was listening in.

Thankfully, everyone in Fairy Tail was busy celebrating to notice the two of them in the corner of the bar.

"Yes. Well, I don't think he's ever scary, but yes to the rest of it." Lucy admitted and Levy only chuckled at her words.

"You don't think he's scary because you haven't seen him when he knows you are in danger." The bluenette told her and Lucy felt her heart jump at the words. "And besides, I don't see how it's any different than usual."

Lucy slumped on the bar and looked back at Levy. "It's different! He's more intense about it. I don't know how to explain." She ran a hand through her hair, trying not to get frustrated.

"You know for how simple he is, he is also a mystery to all of us." Levy said with mirth in her voice, and Lucy sat up straight and leaned in closer to her.

Natsu was a mystery to her too.

Which was a funny concept, considering he's an open book, you can almost always tell what's on his mind. But there was also so much Lucy didn't know about him, and she was interested in Levy's perspective.

"I've known him for a long time, we all have." Levy started, looking around the guild before turning back to her. "Do you know he's never once been out on a job with anyone besides Happy? And I have never seen him interact with the guild as much as he has since he came back that night with you in tow."

Lucy felt a blush at her words and didn't really know what to say, but it seemed Levy wasn't finished anyway.

"In fact, this is the longest I can remember him being in Magnolia since he's been able to go out on jobs." There was a faraway look in the bluenette's eyes for a moment before she continued.

"He's been chasing shadows and whispers since joining Fairy Tail. Running around Fiore and looking for any clues about Igneel and his whereabouts."

She let out a breathy chuckle before continuing. "The gods know how many times The Master or Erza tried to talk to him and explain that sometimes you need to slow down. But you know Natsu, once he's determined about something, he goes head first and without thinking it through."

Levy sent her a pointed look and Lucy chimed in with a giggle of her own, "Don't I know it." She said, thinking about her partner's impulsive tendencies.

"It wasn't until he met you that he finally slowed down." Lucy's heart clenched at Levy's words, she never knew any of this.

"I have never seen him spend so much time with the guild before, usually he would come in to eat, or brawl and get a drink occasionally. But he was mostly just taking jobs back to back, to think he's on a team now, and with Gray and Erza of all people." The bluenette shook her head as if she still couldn't believe it.

"If someone had told me, a day before you came to the guild that those three would be on a team together. That Natsu would be on a team with anyone that isn't Happy, I would have told them they were crazy and laughed in their face." Levy laughed at the thought and Lucy knew her face was a dark shade of red by now.

"Hey, I had nothing to do with their team-up! Erza got word of trouble and asked them to help her, and me too for some reason." She tried to protest her way out of the conversation.

"Okay, maybe so, but I still stand by my statement. He did ask you to go on a job with him! And he took you to the beach so you could summon Aquarius." Levy pointed an accusative finger at her, before giggling and clapping her hands in the air.

"Oh, that was your first date!" She exclaimed happily and Lucy went to shush her, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

You never know with this gossipy bunch.

"Not so loud! Geez!" Lucy moved so she could put a hand over Levy's mouth.

"And it was not a date! He came with me to get my stuff and then took me to the beach so I could make a contract with Aquarius. There was nothing romantic about it!" She explained to the bluenette, dropping the hand that was covering the shorter girl's mouth.

"But you had dinner afterwards?" Lucy felt the blush come back full force at Levy's question and she immediately regretted dropping her hand.

So she tried to change the subject instead.

"I just feel like I've betrayed his trust in some way, and I don't know what to do Lev." She pouted at the bluenette, hoping the shorter girl would take pity on her.

Lucy watched as Levy's brow furrowed at her words before she let out a sigh. "I don't know how to help you there Lu. But maybe you guys can go on a job and that way you could ask him about it." The bluenette offered as she went to clasp their hands, giving Lucy's a squeeze.

Lucy looked at her friend for a few moments, before turning to look at the crowd and tried to spot Natsu.

She saw a flash of pink in the crowd and there he was, sitting at a table across the room, drinking and laughing with Elfman, Evergreen, Bickskow, and a few other guild members.

Natsu's head snapped in her direction a second later, and when they made eye contact he sent a beaming smile her way, tipping his whisky glass towards her.

Lucy smiled back at him and raised her cocktail glass back at him. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." She said as she turned to look back at Levy, who had an almost cheshire smirk on her face.

"Mhmm, I bet it does." The bluenette chuckled before downing her drink. "I'm gonna go and try to get Laki to dance with me, wanna come?" She asked as she hopped out of the barstool.

Lucy looked out at the dance floor and back to Levy. "No, I'm good here. You go have fun."

She watched the shorter girl move through the crowd before disappearing into the sea of people and sighed, slumping slightly over the bar.

Lucy couldn't help but go over the conversation with Levy in her head.

Did Natsu really change that much with just her appearance?

But that doesn't make sense, she didn't do anything to prompt such a shift, she didn't know any other version of Natsu than the one he's been since that first night.

'Maybe I should think about this when I'm not so close to being drunk.' Lucy thought to herself as she took a sip from her drink.

Suddenly, there was a weight over her shoulders, and a familiar warmth enveloped her.

"Whatcha doing here all by yourself? This is a party!" Natsu's voice came from her right, and she turned her head to smile at him.

"You know, I just realized that I never know how cold I am until you're next to me." Lucy blurted out instead of an answer.

Natsu shot her an odd look, before moving to connect their foreheads, he was so close that their noses were almost touching.

"How much did ya have to drink?" His sudden question made Lucy giggle, finding his attempt at being stern hilarious.

She moved to clutch her stomach and suddenly felt her stool shift from underneath her and before she knew it Lucy was falling to the ground.

Thankfully, Natsu's instincts were sharp as ever, he was moving before she even slipped, and helped her back on the stool. "Easy, you're gonna get hurt."

"I'm not drunk!" Lucy protested, and Natsu raised a single brow at her, crossing his arms as he did. "Okay, maybe a little tipsy, but not drunk." She tried to rephrase.

"Yeah, yeah. You're such a lightweight." He laughed at her as he moved from the barstool and stood in front of her.

"I am not a lightweight!" She exclaimed at him, which only made him laugh harder.

"Sure you're not. Now come on, let's go see if Happy had any luck with Charla tonight." He offered his hand out and Lucy took it without hesitation.

"Like that will ever happen, he needs to give her something other than fish!"

Natsu laughed at her proclamation and tugged her through the crowd. "So you keep trying to tell him. Who knows, maybe it'll be a New Year's Miracle!"

They laughed at the thought as they tried finding their furry friend and his lady love.

The guild members were scattered throughout the second floor, drinking, laughing, and dancing. Some of the guys were fighting in the corner.

Lucy could see Levy and Laki dancing to the music, Jet and Droy keeping them company. Cana managed to rope Freed into a drinking competition, and the poor man seemed to be almost gone, she could see him swaying in his seat as they passed.

Erza was at a table with Gray, Juvia, and Lisanna. And they all looked drunk in their own right, with the red-headed seemingly changing armors as her moods shifted and threatening everyone in her sight.

Natsu quickly steered them clear of her as he saw that.

Juvia was almost melting by the proximity between her and Gray, and the ice mage looked a bit uncomfortable with her affection but Lucy could also spot a shadow of a blush on his face as the bluenette rested her head on his shoulder.

All in all, the spirits in Fairy Tail were high.

Everyone was happy to be alive and eager to welcome the New Year, hoping it would bring them joy and happiness.

No one seemed to notice a flyer appearing out of thin air on the job board, they were all too enthralled with the celebration.

[viciousoverlord]

It had been quite some time since the saiyaness had heard or seen Kefla. Despite her father having said that it's most like because he's had been sent on a long mission, she still worried for him. She had no doubt about his capabilities as a fighter, he was the demonic saiyan of legends after all, but still her mind couldn't stop buzzing with worry. Despite all this, she decided to would be a good idea to bring her oldest son, Daiko, to the house of Kefla whole Kefla isn't there. This being so Daiko could adjust to his new place of residence without the stress of a stranger being around. She knows that while Ruko took Keflas presence well while in the new home, that it was because he had been around Kefla before.

It was a certain time of day when she would hear the door opening, having been preparing lunch for herself and the currently napping children, she would naturally go and check out the noise. Considering where they lived, she was always on alert for any beast that may decided that thise house was better gone. She was thankful such hadn't happened yet, while she could protect everyone here, the four little ones could get frightened.

Once she reached the foyer, her eyes would widen. The man who she lived with and agreed to marry after the father of her boys failed her test, had returned. With a smile, she would approach him. Arms wrapping around him in an embrace that was gentle yet showed her care for him.

"I was worried, you know. I don't doubt your ability to fight, but still. To up and dissappear without so much of a word is a good way to make me nervous about what state you are in."

She says, her tone was soft yet happy as she gave him a kiss. She wasn't scolding him for being gone as it was illogical to do such when one os a soldier. Her father would dissappear for awhile because of his position, so she was used to it to the point she didn't panic. However, the reunion would be interrupted as a small child came over, rubbing his eyes as he just woke up. Going over to Kokra and hugging her leg, leaning his head into it, his eyes still closed as he spoke.

"Mmm, Ru, Lucy and Kimiar are still sleeping mama... can I eat now?"

The boy asks, while he looked similar to Ruko, though his voice and hair was different compared to the other hybrid. He was half asleep still, though that wouldn't stop Kolra form carefully picking up the toddler and holding him in her arms.

"Kefla, this is Daiko, Rukos older twin brother. My father says his control is much better now, so I moved him here while you were gone so he could adjust to the house and it's surroundings. He may be hostile towards you for a bit, but otherwise he's a good kid and we'll behaved."

She says softly, Daiko having already fallen back asleep. His little hands clenched on the fabric of his mother's shirt, relaxed in his new home.

Simply staying in the embrace as all he wanted to do was relax. Not reacting much to the kiss as she continued to talk. Only when he is free of her arms does he finally start to remove the uniform. Taking a second to fold it. Currently, he regrets having accepted the woman within his house. If it wasn't for her presence, he'd already be taking a bath and listening to music and spending the rest of his time glued to a book. He is not telling the other off simply because she doesn't deserve to be treated in such a way.

Looking down at the child who hugs the leg of the other. Quick to note the similar energy it shares with Kolra. Must be the one she has mentioned before. A gaze as she presents the other son to him, but not in a state to care much. He walks past the woman and goes to the bathroom. Tomorrow, he will apologize for his behavior and overall lack of response to her son and anything she said.

[pagetreader]

The prayer was bittersweet, their faith being tested. Though it was reeled and tossed about in the storm, it never completely waivered, even in times of uncertainty – even when they felt bitter. Rebekah was no longer alone in picking up the pieces of her broken heart. 

Her anxiety subsided and she squeezed Benjamin’s hand in turn, grateful for him, no matter the circumstances. 

It surprised her to hear her father ask about Isaac’s well-being. The morning her brother had departed for enlistment, Elias had warned him never to set foot in his house again, lest he shoot him dead. Perhaps the severity of the war was softening even the hardest of hearts. 

Fortunately, Benjamin was able to give Elias a fair answer, offering Rebekah a soft smile as he fondly remarked, "You Abbotts don't exactly take no for an answer. I imagine if he'd been denied, he would've found a way to defy all orders. Though preferably, he wouldn't have to dress as a woman."

Beneath the table, Benjamin nudged her in jest and she playfully retaliated with a soft kick to his boot.

“Oh, aye. If your soldiers were to shimmy down the British battalion line in drag, it would surely send the enemy into such a fit of laughter, you’d be able to end this war far sooner.” 

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Rebekah laughed, and for a moment she could’ve sworn she’d seen a lopsided grin shifting through her father’s facial hair. 

"He'll be all right, sir. I promise,” Benjamin reassured, “Upon my return, I can personally see to it that he's looked out for -- without his knowledge, of course."

“I’d appreciate that, son,” Elias answered before returning his attention to his plate. 

Absentmindedly picking at her food, Rebekah stole a glance or two at Benjamin, realizing how much older he looked. War had matured him rapidly, but why hadn’t she noticed it all this time?

Had she been so caught up in her selfish wallowing that she hadn’t a thought to spare for what he’d been inwardly suffering over the past two years? The man carried so much on his shoulders while balancing on a thin tightrope, always worried, always tired, always enduring in silence. 

God Almighty, she hated to think of him doing so alone. In her life, she wouldn’t allow him to do so anymore – not now that she was there beside him. 

When the kitchen was cleaned, and her father had gone to sit out on the porch, per his routine, rain or shine, Rebekah led Benjamin upstairs to her bedroom, a place once so familiar that seemed so foreign now, as though it’d been a lifetime ago she’d while away the hours sewing in the corner chair or nestled with young Levi on the bed reading him stories.

This time, when her heart twinged, it felt just a little more manageable. She’d lost much in between that time – become a little stronger despite the lingering grief that numbed her throughout the day. Slowly but surely, she was learning to persevere -- as a soldier should.

Hearing Benjamin close the door behind them, she turned on her heel to embrace him tightly, wanting to take advantage of the quiet calm of this night. To hold him and be held by him. For a little while, they could pretend that the world had been shut away behind the door and they were safe and untouchable, that they would never be forced to part from one another. Stress, sadness, and fear were not powerful enough to penetrate the walls of this secure haven. Their little sanctuary. 

“I love you,” she whispered against his neck, nuzzling him softly. 

"If we weren't in danger of being recognized by the militia, I could've planned a trip to the market in the morning. God knows he hasn't been going himself."

"He seems healthy," Benjamin offered, "and really, isn't that all we can ask for?"

Rebekah's chopping was manic and forceful, and gently, he laid his hand over hers, halting her bladed attack. "Let me," he offered. "You can get started on the pudding." With a weary smile, he added, "Now I know you've lost faith in my culinary skills, but surely you still believe in my blade-wielding?"

Slowly, a hint of her own smile formed in her eyes, and the two set to work on preparing the meager spread. By the time they brought everything out into the dining room, Elias was already seated, quiet and unsmiling while they said grace. Sometimes, it was difficult to be thankful -- and now, most especially.

Beneath the table, Benjamin caught Rebekah's free hand and gently squeezed, warming her chilled fingers in his palm. The unspoken I love you reverberated through his every touch, and he prayed it would always be enough.

From across the table, Elias announced, "I received word from Isaac that he's stationed at an outpost in Trenton. Have ye any knowledge of it, Benjamin?"

Eyes lifting from the table, Benjamin jerked, momentarily concerned that he'd overstepped in some way. But once he saw the earnestness in the other man's eyes, it occurred to him that Elias merely didn't wish to lose another loved one. The plaintive no more seemed to echo in his every breath, and clearing his throat, Benjamin took a swallow of ale and nodded. "The outpost's been perfectly impenetrable, if that's your concern," he said. "Washington needed a few extra hands over that way, so Isaac volunteered. Because as you know..." Here, he flashed Rebekah a soft smile. "You Abbotts don't exactly take no for an answer. I imagine if he'd been denied, he would've found a way to defy all orders. Though preferably, he wouldn't have to dress as a woman."

Lightly nudging Rebekah, if only to show his jest, he smiled before looking back to Elias. "He'll be all right, sir. I promise. Upon my return, I can personally see to it that he's looked out for -- without his knowledge, of course."

The Abbott pride was just as deadly as their determination.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Until The Very End -(WITS Sequel)

A/N: It was the 4th anniversary last month and none of you bitches corrected me anyway this is James Sirius and also only 4 more chapters and this story is DONE -Danny

Words: 2,618

Masterlist

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2013

Once the press conference ended, Mel stepped out of the podium and quickly went behind the curtains fearing she'd pass out from pure anxiety.

Harry and the children were waiting there, and Harry was unable to kiss her when she arrived, his hands were full trying to keep their kids in one place.

"That was a great speech. I never doubted you'd do it perfectly," he told her, pulling James back before the boy could steal Matt's juice. "How do you feel?"

"Like I could fall to my knees and sob at any moment," Mel breathed out. "Can't believe it's official. I'm the Head of the Department of Mysteries, but I still feel like a child..."

"You look youthful, but I fear being thirty-three makes you a full-grown adult," Harry grinned. "Boys!" He pulled them apart once more. "Didn't you have something to say to your mum?"

"YES!" Nine-year-old James pushed his siblings aside and wrapped his arms around Mel. "I'm very proud of you mummy! Can I come to work with you?"

"Absolutely not," Mel ran a hand through his light-brown hair.

"Mummy," Matt handed his apple juice to Harry and approached her with his hands clasped anxiously. "I want to know—Will you take me to my piano lessons on the weekends? I don't like it when the Flints take me, their girls scream a lot."

Mel hid her amusement though Harry could still see it in her eyes. When she answered, she sounded serious. "Of course! My job won't interfere with our time together, I promise."

"Do you?" This time, it was Emmeline asking. "Daddy said that and now he's leaving with Uncle Ron—Why is he leaving? Rosie said she heard him tell Auntie 'Mione that it was a dangerous mission—"

Six-year-old Lily looked up at Harry with her huge brown eyes full of fear. "Is that true, daddy?"

"Lin," Harry frowned. "Rose shouldn't eavesdrop, and you shouldn't scare your siblings. It's nothing to worry about, I've been away for missions before, you just don't remember it because you were little."

Mel knelt before her children and forced out a reassuring smile. She knew about Harry's next mission, and she'd also heard it would be ugly. Nowadays, Harry didn't have to worry about encountering Death Eaters, but there were still bad people out there, and sometimes, it took the Head Auror to go and handle the problem himself.

"Your dad will be okay," she hugged the four little children. "Now could you please give mummy some love? She had a very stressful morning."

James jumped right in, almost throwing her back. Used to his son's antics, Harry steadied Mel to keep her from falling. Matt and Emmeline peppered Mel's face with kisses and Lily sneaked between James and her mother and held onto Mel's waist.

The Sultens arrived then, Regulus holding a bouquet of fresh hydrangeas for his sister. "Congrats!" He grinned. "You'll hire me after I finish school, right?"

Mel's children slipped out of her grip and jumped into Reg's arms, he barely had time to hand over the flowers to his mother so they wouldn't get destroyed. Mel hugged her mum and took the bouquet, then raised a brow at her brother. 

"Didn't you want to be a magizoologist?"

"He wants all the dangerous careers he can get his hands on," Emily nudged her side playfully. "Reminds me of a certain little girl I knew."

"Alright, you little blighters—give me some space!" The seventeen-year-old exclaimed, picking up Lily and loudly kissing her cheeks multiple times. "There! Share those with your siblings."

He placed the little redheaded girl on the ground and approached Mel, pulling her into a bear hug.

"That's my big sister! McLaggen must be dying of shame..."

Mel laughed, ruffling her brother's hair. "Why do you care about McLaggen, you twat? We're ten times better than he and his nephew!"

"True," Reg smirked, then sent Harry a casual nod. "Heard you're going on a mission? Who's looking after my sister once you leave?"

Mel snorted. "What?"

"It doesn't sit well with me that he's leaving you alone, I mean—"

Mel slapped the back of his head. "What on earth are you talking about? I can look after myself and my children just fine!"

"Just because you can doesn't mean you have to," Reggie pouted, rubbing his head. He turned to Harry once more. "Listen, Glasses, if you want, I'll stay with Mel and the kids until the summer's over."

Reg had always acted like the protector of his family, even as a toddler. Harry glanced at Mel, and his amusement grew when he noticed how irritated she was at her brother's behaviour.

"You know what, I'd appreciate that a lot, Reg."

"You're hiding something," Mel pointed out, staring at her brother like she'd just read his thoughts. Which she could do if she tried.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Is this about Emily Flint?" Their mother asked with a teasing grin. "Are you going to stalk her during the summer too?"

"Stalk her?" Asked Mel and Harry in unison.

Mel glanced down at her kids. James and Emmeline's eyes were wide and attentive. Mel loved her twins, but they were too nosy and, unfortunately, they didn't know how to keep a secret. She decided to save Regulus from future embarrassment and cut their conversation short.

"Alright, Leggie, you can stay. But we'll talk about this later, and don't think I'll forget it," she concluded, picking up Lily. "Come along children, time for lunch!"

Harry picked up Matt and got closer to Regulus, lowering his voice. "Whatever you're planning, just ask Mel for advice, she can help you."

"Doubt she can help me with this one." Regulus sulked.

Harry smiled. "Whatever it is, I'm sure Mel has the answer."

"You might need to put a little bell around your daughter's ankle," was the first thing Harry told Ron when he entered the office. "She's been listening to your conversations with Hermione and telling my kids all about them."

Ron's ears got red. "What conversations?"

Harry stared at him. "The ones concerning our job. But judging by that reaction, you should start using muffliato again."

The redheaded man sat down with a worried expression. "Oh no, Hermione will kill me."

Harry handed him a file. "You know, I'm also struggling with one of my kids. Matthew looks just like me, but he's more Dumbledore than Potter. He's asking questions—smart ones—about my job. It seems that's all he can think about nowadays and I don't know how to answer."

"Bet Mellow doesn't like that," Ron mumbled, his eyes skimming the file in his hands.

"She's considering to obliviate the kids and start over," Harry replied, half-joking. "You'll think it stupid of me, but I never expected them to be concerned about it this early in life. How do I explain to a seven-year-old that I risk my life so they don't have to? Most kids want to be like their parents, I don't want that for him."

Ron shrugged. "Kids aren't stupid, though. Especially Mel's. I bet that if you sit with them and explain it, they'll understand."

Harry sighed. "James is too alike to his namesake to trust him. And I'm talking about his middle name."

"Nothing Mel can't handle," Ron smirked. "Leave the twins to her, you take the young ones, they're easier. Hugo is as bright as his mother—Rose is too much like me, so I let 'Mione tell her off. I can't do it, I look into her green eyes, and it's like looking in a mirror."

Harry chuckles. "Can you believe my twins will be going to Hogwarts soon?" The man felt a scary yet pleasant tug at the base of his stomach. "I don't understand how Emily didn't wail when she left Mel and me at the station in our first year."

"Maybe she did, just not in front of you," Ron offered. "She was always acting all tough in front of you two so you wouldn't worry. You're the same with your kids."

Harry realized he was right. He and Mel wanted to keep their children away from all the bad things that existed in the world, but perhaps that wasn't such a good idea. He and Mel had survived a war because they'd learned early in life that it took a lot of hard work, wisdom, and cooperation to be safe and happy.

"Maybe I should talk about it with Mel, and see what she thinks," he sighed, leaning back on his chair. "I feel like I rely too much on her wits. I'd like to make up my mind without having to ask her first, she has too much on her plate already."

"Her fault she was born with a massive brain," Ron placed the file on the desk. "Ready to work, then?"

Harry seized his wand and got up. "Yes, let's see if we can finish early."

The Potter children were watching from the hall as their parents talked in hushed whispers in their bedroom. Their father was leaving for an Auror mission that morning, and they were all anxious.

"I heard Dad say the minister told him to catch this bloke, dead or alive," James whispered to his twin sister.

Emmeline shivered. "That sounds horrible, dad isn't a murderer!"

"Dad is a hero," James replied proudly. "He'll take out any bad wizard that gets in his way."

"Daddy wouldn't kill," Matthew insisted.

"What is daddy?" Lily asked a little too loudly, and all her siblings hushed her.

"He's an Auror," Emmeline whispered.

"What's an owl-door?" Lily frowned.

"Auror," Matthew rolled his eyes. "It's like a knight from the fairytales mummy reads us. He looks after our world like a knight."

"Oh," Lily hugged his stuffed animal tighter. "But the knights are always doing dangerous stuff!"

"Yes," said Emmeline gravely.

"Dad can take it!" James argued. "He's the bravest wizard alive! Regulus's friends always say that when they come to visit."

"And they also say mummy is the smartest witch," Matthew added in agreement. "So if daddy were in real danger, she wouldn't let him go."

They all watched as their mother wrapped her arms around father. He was smiling, but they couldn't see their mother's face from where they were.

"I think mum's brave too," Emmeline said thoughtfully. "She won't know where dad is, she'll have to sit and wait with us."

"Mum and Dad were jinxed when they were little," James informed them casually.

"What's jinxed?" Lily asked, a barely noticeable lisp falling out with her question.

"What do you mean?" Emmeline frowned. "Who told you that?"

"Uncle Regulus said it when he was talking with Teddy and Thomas the other day," James said. "They think I don't pay attention to what they say—"

"Get to the point!" Emmeline urged him.

"Uncle Reg said that Mum and Dad were linked, that they realized this after Dad almost died one time—Reg said that the jinx got cut off after the war, so Mum gets nervous when Dad goes away because she used to feel if he was in danger, but now she can't, so it's even worse."

"That's mental," Emmeline frowned. "Uncle Reggie isn't a liar, so it must be true but... it sounds..."

"Scary," Matt concluded, staring at his parents. "They don't talk much about the war, do they?"

"Mummy says they traveled a lot," Lily mentioned, trying to add something valuable to their exchange.

"That doesn't say much," Matthew's green eyes held an intelligence much too grand for a boy his age. "We should ask mum while dad is away."

"Why?"

"They can talk to each other without talking, you know?" Matthew explained to the best of his abilities. "Like when James is about to do mischief and a second later they show up and say the same thing at the same time, even when they are in different rooms. So if we ask them, they won't say what they're thinking, they might lie."

"If we ask mum only, do you think she'll tell us?" Emmeline tilted her head. "She'll know what we're trying to do right away."

"We're not doing mischief," Matthew said. "I want to know why they're hurting..."

"How do you know they're hurting?" Emmeline pressed.

To everyone's surprise, James was the one who spoke. "They have nightmares about it."

The three children stared at their older brother expectantly, waiting to hear the rest.

"My room is next to theirs," he pointed over his shoulder as he spoke. "Sometimes, their voices wake me up—in their sleep—and whoever is not having a nightmare wakes the other up to stop it. I think... I once heard Dad crying."

The revelation was immediately etched into their minds. Their father was always smiling and joking with them, even when his elderly owl and Mum's old cat, Hedwig, and Grey died, their dad was calm and composed, he'd held Mum as she cried for their beloved pets.

If something had happened and it was bad enough to give him nightmares that made him cry... For the first time in their lives, the four kids felt the coldness of evil grazing their heads, whispering unknown horrors into their little ears.

Emmeline gulped, trying to control the situation. "But... those are just nightmares. We all have them, they are meant to be scary, so... he's okay."

Matthew gave her a look but said nothing, because Lily, who could understand things way better than she could express them, was staring at them with teary eyes.

"Dad is a powerful wizard," James sounded hesitant this time, and that annoyed him, so he sat up straight and puffed out his chest. "We'll look after Mum, so Dad can focus on his mission. He'll come back for our birthday. Right, Lin?"

Emmeline held her brother's hand. "That's a good idea, Jamie!"

"Uncle Reggie will be here too, and he'll bring Padfoot," Matthew pointed out, making it sound like a whole army was coming to protect them. "And Uncle Ron will be with Dad the whole time, nothing's going to happen."

He placed his hand on Lily's shoulder, who seemed close to tears. James felt guilty about scaring his little sister like that, so he smiled at her and flicked her nose playfully. "Don't be a baby. We have to send Dad off with a smile, alright?"

Lily rubbed her eyes nodding. She fixed her corduroy overalls and hugged her stuffed rabbit again.

"They're coming!" Matthew whispered, standing up.

The four children snuck their way downstairs and stood in front of the door waiting for their parents. Harry knew they had been watching, but he acted like he'd just noticed them there, standing next to his travel bag.

"Hello," he grinned. "Come to say goodbye?"

Emmeline burst into tears. James groaned, rolling his eyes. Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, and Lily looked at her sister with wide eyes, shocked at how quickly she'd caved.

Harry knelt in front of his daughter and hugged her. "There's no need to cry!"

"Come back soon!" she sobbed. "We love you, Daddy, please be here for our birthday..!"

"Don't pressure him, you twat!" James scolded her.

"Don't be rude," Mel reprimanded him, though she did it gently. "Emmie, Dad won't be away for long, alright? We have to be patient, and you have to promise you won't get in trouble while he's away, so he won't worry."

The kids nodded at their mother's easing words. They felt a weight lifting from their shoulders, and then, perhaps out of relief or simply because they all loved their father a little too much, they too started to cry.

Mel felt her children's pain, she didn't know how, but something told her these kids knew exactly what had been happening to Mel and Harry for so long that they were numb to it by now.

The discovery did not sadden her, she felt accompanied. These kids loved them in a way Harry and Mel had loved each other for years, and now their love had multiplied into four more people that made their days brighter and their souls stronger.

Mel crouched next to her children—now climbing on top of their father to squeeze him in a tight hug—and kissed each of their little heads.

"We'll be okay," she stated.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

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[photographertherapistblogger2]

So today I'm feeling a little emotional and I'm thinking about the baby i lost and its just hit my like a smack in the face, honestly all I want right now is my baby back and I know I can't so I'm writing it here to let it all go. I mean honestly after everything I've been through. Obviously the labour was horrid knowing my baby was dead and since leaving the hospital its been nothing but disappointment. When I left the hospital it was one of the hardest things I will ever do and I will regret it for the rest of my life. It hurt soo much to be with him but knowing what's happened since I know now I should of stayed longer and spent more time with him. I had my baby on 14th January and I still don't have his ashes back home with me.

Honestly I kinda feel like I was left to my own devices and unless I messaged them they wouldn't check up on me. You'd think like a support worker they would have certain people to deal with set amount of people so no one is left out etc. The community midwives were brilliant but can only stay if I have complications which I totally get. I have been left always chasing things up. Obviously my baby had to have a post mortem and they said he should be back after 3 weeks and they would give me details of cause of death but I haven't received anything. So I kept asking what was going on and finally got the news that we could have his funeral on the 10th march. I didn't know what to do and lead a hectic life so asked the Chaplin to help me. Yet I wasn't informed on what she was going to do or asked what was ok and what wasn't. So as the day got nearer I obviously became more stressed and anxious because I didn't actually want to say goodbye. So I held it all together because I knew that would be my day to finally let it all go.

So I did what I could to get childcare sorted for kids because it was an early and everything else to do with family. Anyway a day before my mom told me she couldn't come because of her legs which I can kinda understand because it was cold but when will she ever get chance to say goodbye to her grandson again, sorry but I feel that's abit selfish in my eyes, even if I'd had to have an operation I would of been there no matter what. Anyway the weather started getting bad etc and I started to worry because when we have snow everything here is at a standstill. So anyway the day comes and even though the weather was bad my dad still wanted to come etc. There were so many phone calls it was unreal. Anyway my Chaplin spoke to me on the phone and said she was going to rearrange his funeral due to the weather so I told everyone it was cancelled for them to call me an hour later about half an hour before his funeral saying it was still going ahead. At this point I was in the middle of asda shopping with my 2 daughters and I just broke down because I felt let down and honestly I hit breaking point with it all.

So at this point I knew I had to get home but couldn't just leave my essential items. Honestly this day will stuck in my head forever I was robbed of the chance to actually grieve and say a proper goodbye to my baby boy. I am and was beyond heartbroken. So I spoke to the Chaplin and she said I will video call you which because i had bad news about my brother I was so overwhelmed she said she would video it and to this day I can't watch it. So anyway since I gave birth to my son I kept asking for counselling on that situation because something like that sticks in your head and you need psychological help. Anyway I was told that I would be referred after his funeral and yet I'm still waiting to hear back off them. So after that ordeal my Chaplin said we will do a service for him I will collect his ashes and do a service at home and I'm still waiting for that too.

I'm not blaming anyone and I know people get busy but I should at least know what's going on and last week I wad distraught trying to get through to people that were away on holiday. I didn't know where my baby's ashes were so tried calling the crematorium and the funeral directors to get no joy. Anyway I had a phone call saying his ashes were still at the crem and that I can go collect them when I want but have to call them first. Anyway I couldn't get them so I got told the funeral directors would collect them but I need to sign a form which I did. That was last Tuesday and I still haven't got him back where he belongs. I'm beyond knowing what to do anymore and it's pushing me further over the edge. I just really need some support right now and guess what as usual there's no one here. Anyway I just needed to release all that hurt, distress and all the emotions of guilt and anger out back into the world because I just can't cope with it anymore.

[persephonerinyes]

Let the suffering commence! I'm so curious if he's going to try to touch her, if she's going to let him only to tease him and then pull back, if they'll have their first serious conversation since Daenera found out about Luke.

I'm glad Daenera can drop her mask slightly around Gwayne and relax a little. He understands her position but doesn't treat her like a hostage and doesn't have the same disdain for her that some of the other Greens have. Plus, he's willing to be the object of Aemond's ire so Daenera can have some fun 😂

Then Martyn Reyne comes along with his vile proposition and disgusting insinuations.

“If you ever find yourself yearning for something less… stifling,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, “you know where to find me.”

I picture him having clammy hands because that would just add another layer of disgust while dancing with him. I honestly wouldn't be upset if Aemond beheads him...or feeds him to Vhagar. The man has it coming trying to move in on his wife and talk smack about him. Aegon can't protect him when he becomes Eggs on Toast.

The passage about them as children and then it coming full circle during their dance was so bittersweet. He's more than willing to dance with her now but she's the one who wants to pull away 😢

She hated him. She hated him for what he had done. She hated him for what he had become. But most of all, she hated him for what he had done to her–the way his love had ruined her. It had not been a gentle ruin; it had been a brutal, savage ruin–it had been the kind that had cracked open her ribcage to tear into the soft, tender flesh of her heart, shredding it to ribbons. 

Not surprising that Aegon continued to be a bastard and tried to get a reaction from them, especially Aemond. Suggesting the bedding ceremony??? I hope one of the birds takes a giant poop on his head!

Aemond was so ready to have a smackdown. I think one day Aegon's going to push him too far and his status as his brother and the King won't save him from his ire.

I felt bad for Daenera worrying that Aemond might actually let her be stripped down but he has shown once again that he will veer from duty in order to protect her (plus he's too damn possessive to let that happen lol).

Helaena understands her brothers so well. Aegon is still an ass tho even with her explanation. Maybe Daenera can use the information to manipulate Aegon in a way.

Helaena's premonitions 👀

“The stars are still there,” she said, her voice almost dreamy, “just beyond the clouds.”

Aww. The boy with the stars in his eyes is still in Aemond after everything, she just has to find him again 🥹

“With a bitter berry, one life is spared. Words once lost cannot be reclaimed. In the shadow of doubt, the beast hungers, eager for a son to claim.” 

Someone is going to be poisoned so they can't spill any secrets and this will protect someone else? Or will it lead to Daemon doubting Daenera more and thinking about revenge? I'm stressed!

I loved Dae, Hel and Edelin getting some girl time before Aemond comes. Lord knows they certainly all need it.

“My feet are throbbing so much, I’m almost certain that Mertha either shark my shoes or had them ill-fit from the start.”

😏🤰

I can't wait to see what happens on their wedding night!!!!

A Vow of Blood - 95

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 95: Once in grief, heart of black but forced in green III

AO3 - Masterlist

Daenera let Gwayne guide her down from the dias, her hand resting lightly in his as they descended the steps. His skin was warm against hers, surprisingly soft despite the rough calluses etched into it from years of training. The smooth stone floor beneath her feet echoed softly with each step, the sound muffled by the lively music and the low murmur of voices that filled the grand hall. The air was thick with the hum of conversation, occasionally punctuated by bursts of laughter, though much of it was drowned out by the rhythmic thudding of dancers’ feet as they completed the final, elegant movements of the dance. 

Her gown, a cascade of rich, heavy fabric, swept across the floor with a soft, whispering sound, though the intricate beading along the hem scratched faintly against the stone. The sheer weight of the dress was a constant burden, pulling at her with each step, its thousands of delicate beads intricately sewn onto the sleeves and bodice weighing down her arms. Every time she raised them, even slightly, her movements were strained. 

The air was warm, perfumed with the scent of candles and sweet wine, yet Daenera couldn’t help but feel stifled. She glanced at Gwayne, whose confident stride and untroubled expression suggested that the weight of evening bore no such pressure on him–why would it? He wasn’t the one who had married the man who had killed her brother. He wasn’t the one whose heart ached painfully with every beat–he wasn’t the one whose heart betrayed her, fluttering for a man she had no right to love.

She hated her heart for its betrayal, loathed the agony that came with each beat–a constant, sharp reminder that it was still beating, and that her brothers’ was not–and hated him even more for making it so. Hatred was simpler, cleaner–resentment and bitterness were easier to cling to, even if they cut her as deeply as they shielded her. It was a double-edged blade, one she wielded to keep the softer, more dangerous emotions at bay. 

The cold prickle of his gaze crept along the back of her neck, a sensation as tangible as ice against her skin. It clung to her, heavy and inescapable, gnawing at her composure with every passing moment. She could feel the weight of his eye, following her every movement, as though he sought to pin her in place beneath his silent scrutiny. The sensation was relentless, pressing into her with the sharpness of a finely honed blade, cold and unforgiving. 

Even as she attempted to focus on the hum of conversation around her and the flickering candlelight that made the shadows dance along the periphery of the room, his presence gnawed at her awareness. He wasn’t close–he didn’t need to be. His watchfulness hovered just at the edge of her consciousness, like a predator lingering in the shadows, waiting. 

It made her acutely aware of every breath, every flutter of her pulse, as if his gaze could read the turmoil she so carefully concealed. 

She refused to acknowledge him, determined not to betray even the slightest hint of how deeply his presence unsettled her–how it still made her skin prickle and her stomach flutter. Her spine remained straight, her expression carefully composed, as though she were oblivious to the way his gaze seemed to bore into her. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had any power over her. 

As they approached the edge of the dance floor, she forced her turmoil aside, locking her thoughts and feelings deep within. The music drifted to a stop, the soft murmur of the musicians deliberating over the next tune filling the brief silence, conversations filling the space left by the music.

“It seems congratulations are in order, Ser,” Daenera remarked carefully, her voice betraying none of the inner storm. 

Gwayne cast a sidelong glance at her, one eyebrow lifting in mild intrigue. “Oh? And for what, exactly?”

“Have you not risen to second in command of the City Watch?” Daenera asked with feigned sweetness as she raised an eyebrow. “Though,” she continued, her voice carefully measured, “with your father as Hand of the King and your nephew as the King, one might have expected you to be named Lord Commander.”

It was an observation wrapped in politeness, a subtle barb carefully veiled beneath a measured sweetness. Gwayne responded with a slight curve of his lips–almost a smirk–amusement flickering across his face. 

“I assure you, Princess, the decision was made with great consideration,” He answered smoothly. “Ser Luthor Largent is the better choice for Lord Commander. He has been with the City Watch for years and he commands the respect of the men. My father made a wise decision in appointing him for the role.” He offered her a nonchalant half-shrug as he met her gaze. “And holding the position of second in command affords me the means to aid the King as necessary.”

Gwayne guided Daenera onto the dance floor, his grip on her hand firm yet gentle. Her other hand came to rest on his shoulder as his settled lightly at her waist. The music started slowly, its soft notes drifting through the hall before swelling. He led her through the first graceful steps, moving in tandem to the music. As the dance progressed, they separated, only to follow the practiced steps with an almost fluid precision. After a few steps apart, he caught her hand again, twirling her in a graceful spin that sent her into the arms of another partner for a brief moment, before they found each other once more. 

All around them, the other dancers moved in perfect harmony, each step ingrained from years of practice. It was a dance they all knew by heart, learned in their youth and rehearsed until it felt almost effortless. Skirts swirled and billowed in vibrant hues, creating a blur of color that mingled with the sound of movement, a soft echo of feet keeping pace with the rising music. 

Daenera clutched her gown with one hand, lifting the heavy fabric to give herself more freedom as she reached for Gwayne’s hand again. Together they jumped forward, then back, their movements mirroring one another before stepping to the side, then the other. Her long, beaded sleeve swung between them, its weight adding a slight drag to her movements. She glanced up at Gwayne, catching his eye just as a faint smile played at his lips.

A faint smile tugged at Daenera's lips, and though it felt forced, she returned it out of habit, knowing all too well that Aemond's gaze was still fixed on her. His presence lingered like a cold shadow, prickling at the edges of her awareness, but she pointedly ignored him. Instead, she allowed Gwayne to guide her effortlessly across the floor. His hand brushed lightly against the small of her back before he spun her gracefully in his arms, bringing her back to face him once more.

“I must admit,” Gwayne said with a hint of humor in his voice, seemingly unaware or unbothered by the lone eye watching them, “when you congratulated me earlier, I thought it was for returning with my head still attached to my shoulders.”

Daenera let out a soft chuckle, the sound surprising her with its ease, and for a moment the smile was genuine. “Well, I can congratulate you on that as well. I imagine it was quite a feat. When did you return?”

“A few days ago,” Gwayne replied, his tone light but edged with lingering tension. “The prince was eager to spill my blood when I delivered the terms of surrender. But your mother… well, she kept her husband on a tight leash.” The insult was thinly veiled, but unmistakable. “She wasn’t inclined to break convention by executing an envoy, for that I am grateful.”

They briefly parted, their hands releasing as they followed the steps of the dance, only to reunite again, their palms meeting as they spun in a circle. 

“I only wish my nephew had shown similar restraint,” Gwayne added, his voice dropping slightly. “Perhaps then, your mother might have been more considerate of the terms we offered.”

A strange, choking pain tightened in Daenera’s throat, making it difficult to breathe. She swallowed hard, trying to push it down, her gaze drifting away from Gwayne as her heart pounded heavily within her chest.

Gwayne seemed to catch himself, realizing the weight of his words. He cast her an apologetic look, a flicker of sympathy evident in the depths of his blue eyes as they rested on her. There was a softness there, a recognition of the pain she carried–of the loss she had suffered.

“I am sorry for your loss, Princess,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. The unexpected softness in his tone startled her, cutting through the polished facade she had worked so hard to maintain.Her gaze snapped back to him, her brows furrowing as she studied his face, searching for any hint of disingenuousness. 

Was this some sort of test? Was he probing to see if she would uphold her end of the bargain? But his expression was open, his eyes sincere if not a little amused at her scrutiny, and yet, she couldn’t be so sure. 

“Thank you, Ser,” Daenera managed to force out, though her heart twisted painfully in her chest as she spoke. She kept her expression steady, though the weight of her emotions threatened to spill over. “It is kind of you to say, but my husband defended his brother’s rightful claim to the throne with great bravery.”

The words festered in her mouth, leaving behind the bitter taste of betrayal, like something spoiled and rotten. Daenera felt it linger on her tongue, an acrid reminder of the lies she was forced to live. The weight of unspoken truths and falsehoods sat heavy within her, settled in her stomach like lead.

 The amusement in Gwayne’s blue eyes was unmistakable, cold and sharp like ice skimming the surface of a frozen pond. Yet beneath the humor, there was something else–a flicker of admiration, perhaps, but also a more serious undercurrent. His lips curved slightly, though his eyes remained sharp and all too knowing. “You might spin that tale for others, Princess, but there’s no need to pretend with me,” he replied, his tone smooth but edged with a quiet understanding. “I’m well aware of the conditions behind your compliance.”

His words hung in the air between them, the hint of admiration in his voice catching her off guard. “Your performance has been quite remarkable, I must say–very convincing.”

Daenera’s eyes narrowed as she searched his face. He knew more than he let on, yet there was no malice in his tone. Only an unsettling awareness, as though he could see the delicate mask she wore, the one she had worked so hard to keep intact. And worse, that he might even admire it. 

Gwayne’s expression shifted, becoming more thoughtful as he tilted his head slightly. “Do you think your mother would have accepted the terms?”

“Does it matter now?”

“No,” Gwayne admitted, his lips curving into a faint smile, “I suppose it doesn’t–except to satisfy my own curiosity.”

Her mind churned with a storm of ‘what-ifs.’ How different might things have been if Luke hadn’t gone to Storm’s End? If her mother had sent someone else in his place? If Aemond hadn’t been so consumed by resentment and hatred? She wondered if her mother might have considered the terms more closely–but true acceptance? No, that would never have happened. 

The fractures ran too deep for peace to be so easily won.

“No,” Daenera answered, her voice steady. “She would not have accepted the terms.”

“Not even with her daughter in our hands?” Gwayne’s question was posed gently, almost kindly, but it still hit its mark, sinking deep. Daenera felt the weight of it pressing down on her. She pursed her lips, her gaze shifting away from him as her eyes swept over the room, taking in the sea of dancers and courtiers, before she turned back to meet his eyes. 

“What is one daughter against five sons?” She said bluntly, her words cutting through the air. Gwayne’s brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face. “Even if she had accepted the terms, who’s to say this marriage wouldn’t have happened? Your father and my husband would never let me leave and I would still stand here–his wife. There was no choice.”

Even if her mother had accepted the terms, Daenera knew she would have still been married off to Aemond–an assurance of her mothe’'s loyalty, a gesture meant to feign reconciliation between the two warring sides. The marriage would have served as a symbol of mending the rift, but it would have been nothing but a farce. She understood the true cost of such an agreement, and it seemed her mother did as well.

Had her mother bent to the terms, her family would have been doomed. Otto Hightower would never have permitted any threat to remain, anyone with a claim to the throne. Daenera was certain of that. Acceptance of peace would have only led to betrayal, with her brothers eliminated one by one, their blood spilled to secure Otto's ambitions. She would have been left standing in the middle of it all–bound to Aemond, but alone.

In truth, Daenera realized she was already alone, even now, surrounded by those she could never trust. But knowing that the rest of her family still lived, still fought, gave her the strength she needed to endure this isolation. 

That knowledge, fragile yet fierce, was her source of comfort. It fortified her, allowing her to bear the solitude of her current existence–trapped in this court, in this marriage, yet still tethered to the hope that her family’s defiance might someday bring her back to them.

Gwayne paused, the hum of contemplation evident as he tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. “I imagine a mother wouldn’t sacrifice one child for another…”

“It is no sacrifice, good Ser,” Daenera retorted, her tone sharp as the weight of her words settled heavily in her chest. There was a cold logic to them, an understanding of the impossible choices that had been made. “I know it wasn’t an easy decision for her. I would have counseled to make the same choice.”

Tilting his head slightly, Gwayne’s gaze lingered on her. “Even at the risk of your own safety?”

Daenera’s brows furrowed, meeting his gaze with a challenge in her own. “If you feared Daemon taking your head then, you should fear the fire that would rain from the sky if any harm befell me. It would be a foolish mistake, and while I may think you all fools, I do not believe you to be that foolish.”

“If not your safety, then your happiness?”

Daenera’s frown deepened as she studied Gwayne closely, her eyes tracing the sharp angles of his face, the curve of his lips that turned every smile into something that bordered on a smirk. There was a gleam of sly intelligence in his eyes, ever present, watching her just as intently. 

“My happiness is irrelevant,” Daenera said, her tone cool as she answered his question. “You should know that as well as anyone–duty above all is the Hightower way, is it not?”

The truth of her position, of what her loss would spark, hung heavily between them. She watched Gwayne for any sign of reaction, but his expression remained measured, though the slightest flicker of something–acknowledgment, perhaps–passed through his gaze.

Gwayne’s gaze remained steady on hers, a flicker of something akin to admiration softening the sharpness of his features. He paused for a moment before speaking, his tone almost thoughtful. “Few would have made the bargain you did–to give so much, to ensure the freedom of just one man in exchange for your compliance.” 

What else was she to do? Daenera had already witnessed the brutal consequences of her defiance–most of her men hanged for their loyalty, their bodies bloating and rotting in the sun. And still, there were more to be executed. She understood that her fate was sealed, whether she married Aemond or not. Hostage or bride, her captivity was inevitable. But if there was a way to ensure that at least one of her men could escape, to carry word to her mother–that her compliance was nothing more than a mask, that she still remained her mother’s daughter–then she would take it.

“My fate was already decided for me,” Daenera said, her voice cold, a sardonic smile curving her lips as she spoke. “The wedding was set; there was no avoiding it…”

She could feel his gaze on her–steady, unyielding, like an ever-present shadow that clung to her every movement. It lingered, a weight she could not shake, following her with a quiet intensity. Ignoring it, Daenera pressed on, her voice unwavering.

“I decided to make the best of it,” she said, her tone cool and deliberate, “and ensure that at least one of my men made it out of the dungeons alive.”

They parted silently, the conversation fading as Daenera was swept into the arms of another dancer–Lady Cira Reyne. Cira’s cheeks were slightly flushed, her golden hair pinned up in an intricate style, adorned with a delicate circlet that crowned her head. As their eyes briefly met, Lady Cira’s gaze narrowed, a subtle flicker of something unreadable passing between them. They moved gracefully around one another, following the precise steps of the dance, their skirts swirling in rhythm with the music, before returning to their respective partners. 

Daenera and Gwayne moved together with practiced grace, their steps perfectly following the music, advancing and retreating like the ebb and flow of the tide. As they danced, their palms pressed firmly together, and they spun in a graceful circle again, their other hands stretching above their heads. 

“Your mother asked about you,” Gwayne added, his voice softening as if to offer her a moment of solace. He seemed to sense her discomfort and sought to alleviate it with a touch of kindness. “She expressed her concern for your health and safety. Of course, I reassured her that you were well and comfortable.”

Daenera’s sad smile faded, her expression tightening as a moment of hesitation passed over her. She swallowed hard, feeling the question catch in her throat before forcing the words out. “And how… how was my mother when you saw her?”

Gwayne’s gaze flickered across her face, studying her carefully. “On dragonback, wearing her father’s crown,” he began, his voice measured. “She descended from the sky to meet us…” He paused, watching her reaction closely, a flicker of sympathy softening his otherwise sharp features. “She was fierce as a dragon. She threatened to feed me to it if any harm came to you.”

A sharp pang of longing pierced Daenera’s heart, the image of her mother–powerful, unyielding–both a comfort and a sorrow. She was well, Daenera told herself, gripping onto the thought. “Did you give her my words?”

“I did,” Gwayne confirmed.

“With a twist, I assume,” Daenera remarked, her tone sharp but not without understanding. She was no fool–Gwayne was his father’s son, and twisting words to suit their purpose was second nature. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. They both knew the truth. Yet even so, there was a strange sense of relief in knowing that her message had reached her mother, no matter how it had been delivered. And soon, another one would reach her as well–this one untwisted, every word her own. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Daenera caught a glimpse of Aemond, still seated where she had left him. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her, following her every move as she spun gracefully across the dance floor. His expression was impenetrable–cold and unyielding, like forged steel. Though his face remained composed, there was an unmistakable glint of displeasure in his eye, his lips pressed into a sharp line as he watched her dance with another man. Aemond glowered, his mood dark and brooding, like a child sulking as he watched someone else play with what he considered his.

“It seems she feared we might have imprisoned you…” The corners of Gwayne’s lips quirked in humor as he continued on a lighter note, “And from what I’ve gathered, you were perilously close to being confined in the dungeons, considering your attempted escapes…”

A pouty scowl made it onto Daenera’s face, her mind elsewhere as she answered, “The dungeons would have been preferable to the company I’ve been forced to keep. And you cannot fault me for attempting to escape this fate.”

“I do not,” Gwayne repined, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “And Lady Mertha can be a…” He trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging as if searching for a delicate way of describing Lady Mertha’s less-than-desirable-attributes.

Daenera, however, had no reservations about being blunt. “A dry cunt?”

“Indeed,” Gwayne agreed with a chuckle, his voice laced with amusement. “Though I wouldn’t claim to know much about such matters.” 

A laugh burst from Daenera, ringing clear and bright as she let it fill the space around her. She forced her smile to widen, her eyes steadfastly on Gwayne, even though part of her ached to see Aemond’s reaction. She didn’t need to, though. She could feel Aemond's simmering fury pressing against her, almost like a breath against her neck, the heat of his anger tingling along her skin.

And yet, despite herself, Daenera dared a glance in Aemond’s direction as Gwayne spun her gracefully across the floor. Her eyes found in the brief space between heartbeats, and for no more than that fleeting moment, she beheld him; he sat there, his posture deceptively relaxed, appearing almost lazy. He looked terrifyingly beautiful, his sharp features etched with shadows that made him seem carved from the very darkness around him. 

Though Aemond kept his expression locked in that familiar mask of cold steel and ice, something far more volatile burned in his eye. There was a hunger in his gaze, simmering beneath the surface of his fury, a hunger that seemed ready to devour her whole–it was ruinous and treacherous, and it sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, betraying her once again. 

Quickly, she tore her gaze away, pretending she had never looked at him at all. But the damage was done–her heart felt raw, as though it had been sliced open by the mere sight of him, leaving her chest aching painfully.

When Daenera’s gaze returned to Gwayne, she found him watching, his eyes sharp and knowing. A smile that bordered on a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed her struggle to guard herself against his thinly veiled amusement.

“You’re playing a dangerous game with my life, Princess,” he hummed.

Daenera furrowed her brows, pretending confusion, though the weight of her emotions threatened to claw their way to the surface. She swallowed hard, stifling the turmoil before it could reach the light of the evening. “Oh? How so?”

“Feigning ignorance doesn’t suit you,” Gwayne chided softly, his hand slipping to her waist as her back brushed against his chest. They moved with practiced ease, one hand outstretched in his as they gracefully followed the steps of the dance. “My nephew was adamant about making you his wife, defying even my sister’s wishes to have you. He has proven willing to shed blood for far less. I have no doubt he’d do the same for you–his wife. He doesn’t play well with others, and I’d much prefer to keep my head on my shoulders.”

With a subtle tilt of her head, Daenera dropped the pretense of feigned ignorance, meeting Gwayne’s gaze with a cool, measured calculation. If you were truly so concerned about keeping your head, Ser, you wouldn’t have asked me to dance–nor would you have given the flower. You chose to place yourself in this game, I am merely using your position to my advantage.”

Gwayne’s pale blue eyes gleamed with that familiar sharpness, a flicker of the same cunning that lived in his father’s gaze. Yet there was a difference. Where Otto Hightower’s eyes were cold and pragmatic, Gwayne’s held a warmth laced with amusement, a flirtation beneath the charm. His smile widened as he took her hand, spinning her gracefully before pulling her back towards him.

“I can’t help but feel you’re taking advantage of my kindness,” Gwayne teased, his tone light, though the truth beneath his words remained unspoken. He didn’t confirm or deny the game they both knew was at play. Aemond could not kill him, not because he was sentimental towards his uncle, but because Gwayne was too valuable–a pawn on their side that could not so easily be sacrificed over petty emotions. And Aemond, despite his cold fury, was not likely to risk becoming a kinslayer twice over.

“I am,” Daenera admitted bluntly, her voice carrying a frankness that cut through the formalities. “Allow me this one joy in this marriage.”

At this, Gwayne began to laugh. It started with a low chuckle, soon blossoming into a full, hearty laugh that spread across his face, stretching his lips wide and crinkling his eyes. The genuine amusement in his response lightened the air between them, a momentary reprieve from the underlying tension of their conversation.

As the melody dwindled into a loud silence, Daenera and Gwayne found themselves in their initial stance–hands clasped, mere inches apart. Gwayne offered her a gentle smile, to which Daenera responded with a graceful nod, her own smile mirroring his as she stepped back from him. 

Suddenly, a new voice sliced through the lingering notes of the song and the rising murmur of conversation. “Princess.” 

The tone was smooth, confident, drawing her attention immediately. Daenera turned to see Ser Martyn Reyne, one of Aegon’s more persistent companions, standing a few paces away. He approached with a flourish, his expression teetering between bold and playful as he bowed low before her–a discernible flush creeping from his neck up onto his cheeks. His deep blue eyes locked onto hers as he straightened, the flicker of a smirk dancing across his lips, a trace of mischief in his gaze. 

“Would you grant me the honor of the next dance?” He asked, his tone laced with the certain charm that came with liquid courage, his smirk widening as he stood tall. 

Daenera studied him for a moment, his smile faltering slightly as the silence stretched, her eyes taking in his presence with caution. She had seen that look before–bold and full of himself, a very loud and kingly devil on his shoulder, and a man used to getting what he wanted. 

Laughter and whispered comments rippled from one of the tables bordering the dance floor, where Aegon lounged with his usual entourage. His friend, boisterous and unruly, watched the unfolding scene with amusement, nudging each other and urging her to accept Ser Martyn’s invitation with playful smirks and glances.

Daenera’s gaze slid past Ser Martyn, momentarily dismissing his eager posture, and found Aemond seated on the dias. There was a tautness in his jaw, his lips pressed into a sharp purse, as one finger tapped irritably against his cheek. He rested his chin on his hand, leaning against the armrest with a measured annoyance that made his tension palpable, even from a distance. His single eyes remained fixed on her, cold and measuring–willing her to refuse, and for that, she would not. 

With a practiced grace, Daenera forced a polite smile to her lips, though it felt tight and stiff. She inclined her head slightly. “Of course, Ser…”

“Martyn Reyne,” he finished, flashing a self-assured grin as if she needed the reminder. Of course, she knew his name–she was well aware of his reputation, along with the rest of Aegon’s friends. Their escapades in Flea Bottom were the talk of court gossip. To Daenera, he was just another one of Aegon’s troublesome companions.

“Ser Martyn,” Daenera replied, widening her smile to mask her reluctance, nodding in acknowledgement.

Gwayne, still holding her hand, bowed deeply. “Princess,” he said, his tone courteous yet laced with something more. He brought her knuckles to his lips, glancing up through his lashes as he did so, a flicker of amusement and unspoken understanding dancing in his eyes. Daenera gave him a subtle nod, silently bidding him farewell, aware of Ser Martyn shifting impatiently beside them, eager to claim her attention. 

As soon as Gwayne released her hand and walked away, Ser Martyn wasted no time. He stepped forward eagerly, taking her hand with a confidence that lanced the elegance of Gwayne’s touch–or even Aemond’s. He guided her into position, his movements rushed and less refined, though he wore a smug smile as if already anticipating victory.

The lively notes of the next song filled the air, its fast tempo urging them to move. They jumped apart before spinning back together, the dance a flurry of motion. Ser Martyn’s grip tightened around her hand as they followed the steps, pulling her towards him with far more force than finesse. Though they moved in rhythm, his eagerness to lead was evident, lacing the policed grace Daenera had just experienced. Nonetheless, she kept her expression neutral, matching his pace with ease, even as her thoughts remained elsewhere–on the presence that lingered in the periphery of her eye, beckoning her to look towards him. 

They danced in silence for some time, the music providing a comforting escape for Daenera, letting her mind drift with the melody. With each graceful spin, she caught fleeting glimpses of Aemond. Though his posture appeared to remain relaxes, there was an underlying tension, a predatory stillness about him, like a coiled viper waiting to strike. His cold, calculating gaze never left her. 

Ser Martyn released her hand, allowing her to twirl into the arms of another dancer for a brief moment before she seamlessly returned to him, falling back into step with practiced ease. The music dictated their movements, but her thoughts remained elsewhere–remained on the lingering presence of her husband. She glimpsed him again, this time having shifted his position, leaning back in his chair. His head rested against the tall backrest, his fingers tapping idly on the table. Though his expression was unreadable, Daenera couldn’t shake the way his eyes seemed to pierce through her, making her skin prickle with an unwelcome warmth. 

“Princess Daenera, I must say,” Ser Martyn broke the silence, his tone overtly familiar, pulling her attention back to him. Inwardly, Daenera sighed, thinking; must you? before he continued, oblivious to her lack of enthusiasm. “I am almost at a loss for words…”

If only Ser Martyn had been at a loss for words, Daenera would have gladly endured the dance in silence. She could have allowed his gaze to roam over her, perhaps offered him a few coy smiles to fuel the tales he’d bring back to Aegon and his friends. But, alas, it seemed he had things on his mind, and there was no escaping the stream of flattery that spilled from his lips.

“Your beauty is like a sunrise,” he began, unaware of the irritation she struggled to hide. Daenera forced her brows to lift and her eyes to widen slightly, masking the scowl that had threatened to form. “It makes the room glow all the brighter.”

“You charm me,” she replied, her tone flat, her words edged with dry sarcasm as she felt the flush of embarrassment heat her cheeks. It was not the type of attention she desired from one of Aegon’s friends. 

Ser Martyn seemed to take her response as encouragement. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a smoother, more intimate cadence. “I’ve seen many beautiful sights in my life, but none can compare to you.” He flashed her a crooked smile, clearly attempting to appear gallant, though his effort fell short of genuine charm. 

Then his words turned sharper, veiled in jest. “It is a shame,” he added, his tone growing familiar, “that a woman such as yourself has been wasted first on a brute like Boris Baratheon, and now on the one-eyed prince…”

Ser Martyn’s words continued to thread through the air, each one heavy with uninvited pity and thinly veiled disgust. “One a drunk, the other burdened with but a single eye. I imagine it’s rather difficult to find warmth in a marriage with someone whose gaze could freeze a hearth–let alone find him attractive with a scar like that, and the empty socket looking down on you.”

Daenera bit down on her tongue, suppressing the surge of indignation, and maintained her wide-eyed composure, as though the she didn’t already know what lay hidden beneath Aemond’s eyepatch–the sapphire that filled the hollow of his eye socket, gleaming like a haunting star against a midnight sky. As though she hadn’t traced the jagged line of his scar with her fingertips, kissed it with tender reverence, and whispered to him that it was beautiful.

She forced herself to appear innocent, unbothered, despite the rush of memories that flared within her, memories that she wanted nothing more than to uproot and remove. 

“Of course,” he added, his tone growing more suggestive, “one could hardly blame you if you chose to seek warmth and comfort elsewhere.”

A dangerous gleam flickered in his eyes, audacious and presumptuous, sending a shiver of revulsion through Daenera. His hand slid slower down her back, coming to rest at the small of her spine, where he pressed her closer to him, the contact far too bold. His voice dropped, rough and unappealing, as if he were attempting to sound seductive, though to Daenera, it grated like stones grinding together. 

“If you ever find yourself yearning for something less… stifling,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, “you know where to find me.”

“Is this what you do, Ser?” Daenera’s voice was cold, her words laced with a sharp, deliberate edge. She was certain that Aegon had filled him with false confidence, urging him to put himself before her. It wasn’t born out of any genuine kindness on Martyn’s part, but rather out of base lust, while Aegon’s motivations were far more treacherous–a way to provoke his brother. She suspected this was all apart of Aegon’s twisted game, a cruel attempt to rile him up. 

As she looked at Ser Martyn, she wondered if he realized the precarious role he played in this dangerous scheme, or if he was blissfully unaware of how easily he could be discarded. Did he understand the danger he’d placed himself in by becoming a pawn in the rivalry between the two brothers? Did he realize that he had been sent to lure her into humiliation? Did he truly grasp the danger that lurked beneath Aemond’s composed exterior, waiting to strike? She doubted it. 

She finished, “Propositioning married women?”

“It is my experience,” Ser Martyn began, his lips curled into a smirk, unbothered by her tone. “Wives are often left… unsatisfied by their husbands.” He let the words hang in the air, his eyes gleaming with unspoken insinuations. “And, as I understand it, your marriage is merely little more than a formality.”

He raised an eyebrow almost challengingly as he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “The vows at the altar hardly bind the heart–or, indeed, the passions…” His smirk widened in arrogance. “And as Aegon tells it, you’re not unfamiliar with seeking... companionship elsewhere.”

Anger and humiliation ignited in the pit of Daenera’s stomach, spreading like wildfire through her chest. Her gaze hardened as she stared at Ser Martyn, her cheeks flushing with fury and indignation. The audacity of his insinuations left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

“You are bold,” Daenera replied, her voice clipped and devoid of amusement, “to suggest I make a cuckold of my husband at our wedding.” She spoke with calm, dangerous precision. “And to do so with a man who had no qualms about killing his own nephew in revenge for the loss of his eye.”

The suggestive smile froze on Ser Martyn’s face, faltering as the weight of her words sank in. 

“And what do you think would happen,” Daenera continued, her tone soft yet lethal, “if the kinslayer were to find out?” She watched with satisfaction as his bravado crumbled, his smirk slipping into uncertainty, a frown creasing his brow. 

“I am great friends with the king,” he blustered, his earlier confidence shaken. 

“Do you truly believe the king would protect you from Aemond’s wrath?” Daenera’s gaze sharpened as she studied Ser Martyn, her voice cold but calm. “You may be ‘great friends’ with the king, but Aemond is his brother–and we are at war. Aemond rides the largest and fiercest dragon of them all. If the king wishes to win this war, he will need his brother’s loyalty. And if that means sacrificing one of his friends, you will find yourself at the sharp end of my husband’s sword.”

She smiled then, a serene, almost pleasant expression that belied the lethal warning in her words. To Daenera, it wasn’t so much a threat as a gentle reminder of the precariousness of Ser Martyn’s standing, and the towering importance of her husband’s role. 

“I am flattered, Ser, that you would think of me in such a way,” she continued, her tone light as if they were discussing something inconsequential. “But I am all too familiar with my husband’s temper. I will do you the kindness of sparing you from it.”

The unspoken menace hung in the air between them, her words a velvet-covered dagger, reminding Ser Martyn of just how insignificant he truly was in the grand scheme of power and alliances.

As the dance drew to its conclusion, Daenera withdrew her hands from Ser Martyn’s grasp, offering him a polite smile. “Thank you for the dance, Ser,” she said smoothly, her tone formal but distant. “But I believe it’s time I returned to my husband.”

With that, she turned gracefully, gliding through the crowd with ease. Before disappearing completely, she cast a final glance over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Martyn’s. She offered him a sly, flirtatious look, a fleeting moment that seemed to spark some confidence in him. His shoulders straightened, his smug grin returning as if he believed he had made some small victory–as though the threat of her husband's wrath didn’t still linger. 

In truth, Daenera would never give him more than a dance, but she enjoyed the game for what it was–an opportunity to stroke Aemond’s possessiveness. It amused her, the way the attention from others, even those as insignificant as Martyn Reyne, could stir Aemond’s icy composure. Though Martyn might think he was charming, the truth was that it was all just a way to needle under her husband’s skin, a small but satisfying indulgence. 

As the lively strains of music swirled through the air, Daenera moved through the throng of revelers, her gown trailing behind her in a soft, silken whisper against the floor. Her hands subtly gathered the weighty fabric as she ascended the steps to the dais, her gaze fixed deliberately on the stone beneath her feet. She purposefully avoided meeting his gaze–yet, she could feel his cold stare burn into her.

Just as she reached the final step, the room’s attention shifted. 

All eyes were drawn to the grand presentation of the pigeon pie, a spectacle carried in with great ceremony. The pie, grand and shaped much like the Dragonpit, was placed carefully before the dias, resting on an elaborately decorated bed of flowers. Daenera turned to observe it, her expression calm despite the absurdity of the tradition. The pie’s golden-brown crust gleamed under the candlelight, intricately carved with flowers and leaves for the occasion. And at its peak, a small bird, sculpted from dough, perched atop the display, ready to take flight. 

She allowed herself a fleeting glance back at Aemond. He shifted in his seat, the legs of the chair scraping softly against the floor as he stood, rising to his full height. His movements were fluid, almost predatory, like a shadowcat stalking through the night. There was a quiet grace to the way he moved, his long strides effortless, his hand clasped behind his back as he made his way to the front of the dias. 

With each step he took towards her, Daenera felt her heartbeat quicken. The air between them crackled with tension, thick and heavy, like the stillness just before a storm unleashes its fury across the sky. Every breath, every subtle movement, felt like a prelude to something inevitable, something about to break. As Aemond came to stand beside her, his presence seemed to wrap around her, the prickle of gooseflesh spreading across her skin. 

“Come, brother!” Aegon’s voice rang out above the hum of the crowd as he wove his way through the throng of guests, his tone light and jovial as he waved Aemond down from the dias. “It’s time to show us your prowess with the blade and cut the pie!”

The servants by the towering pigeon pie moved in unison, presenting a gleaming blade resting atop a silver platter, cushioned by green velvet. The ceremonial knife sparkled under the hall’s torchlight, ready for the spectacle. But Aemond remained unmoved, standing tall on the dias, his expression inscrutable, betraying no interest in the theatrics of cutting the pie. He gazed down at the gathering below, his posture unchanged, ignoring Aegon’s invitation as if the task were far beneath him.

“Oh, come now, brother!” Aegon called out again, his tone laced with mockery, though it remained light and teasing. He grinned, glancing towards the crowd as if inviting them to share in the jest. “We all know how diligently you've trained with the sword. Surely, a mere pigeon pie stands no chance of besting you!”

Aegon’s playful challenge carried through the festive air as he continued, his tone light yet insistent. “I would even let you wield the king of swords, Blackfyre, to cut the pie.”

His words danced on the edge of humor, yet there was that familiar hint of provocation beneath the surface. The crowd murmured in amusement, their eyes flicking between the two brothers. Aegon’s playful taunt hung in the air, but Aemond remained impassive, his gaze steady and unmoved. His silence was more powerful than words, a subtle defiance that only added to the tension in the air. 

“The Strangler,” Aemond murmured, his voice so low it was almost lost in the noise of the hall. Yet, Daenera heard it as though the words were meant solely for her–knew that they were. The sound of his voice wrapped around her like a whispering snake, slithering down her spine and settling uneasily in her core. She couldn’t shake the feeling it stirred, and her gaze flicked to Aemond. He remained motionless, his face unreadable, staring straight ahead. His blind side was turned towards her. 

Daenera’s gaze lingered briefly on Aemond’s eyepatch, noting the intricate detail of this one–more ornate than the one he typically wore. A dragon had been meticulously etched into the leather, its form almost seeming to rise and twist from the surface as though alive, curling in on itself. When he turned his head slightly, she quickly tore her gaze from him.

“Cut the pie!” a voice called out from the crowd, quickly echoed by a chorus of enthusiastic agreements. 

Her eyes shifted to Aegon, now standing at the foot of the dias with a wide grin on his face. He gestured theatrically towards the pigeon pie. “If you will not, brother, then allow your king the honor of doing it for you.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Bring me my sword!”

Daenera’s gaze lingered on Aegon, her mind conjuring the imagined symptoms of the poisoning taking hold. She could see it play out vividly in her thoughts–the first sign would be an irritated dryness in his throat, followed quickly by a cough that grows into a shortness of breath. His hand would fly to his neck, clawing at it as panic seized him, the color draining from his face. His throat would tighten, like a closing fist, cutting off his breath completely. She envisioned his face turning a sickly purple, blood vessels bursting beneath the skin, his eyes reddening under the pressure. Blood would then trickle from his nose as the last remnants of life strangled from him. 

It would be a gruesome end, a fittingly horrific display for a wedding–and for a king. 

The murmur of the crowd broke through her thoughts. The gathered guests stirred, their conversations filling the hall as they waited for the sword to be brought to Aegon. His friends hovered around him, spurring him on with jests and hearty pats on the back. 

From across the room, Ser Martyn Reyne smirked up at her, while his sister, Lady Cira Reyne, wore her usual expression of displeasure–a permanent scowl etched onto her face.

Daenera felt Aemond’s gaze on her, just for a fleeting moment, catching the subtle shift of his posture from the corner of her eye. 

The servant sent for the sword returned, breathless and flushed, stumbling to his knees before the king, presenting the prized weapon. Aegon seized the sword with a dramatic flourish, drawing it from its sheath. The Valyrian steel sang as it was revealed, catching the light in a way that sent murmurs of admiration through the crowd. He lifted it high, victorious, as the gathered lords and ladies clapped, their excitement palpable. 

“Let me show you how best to conquer a pigeon pie,” Aegon teased, glancing towards Aemond, his tone full of mockery. “Since you dare not even make the attempt.” 

Despite his bravado, it was clear that his handling of the sword lacked any semblance of grace. Though Aegon had been trained alongside his brothers and nephews, his movements were rough and clumsy, the sword seemingly too heavy in his hands.

He gripped the hilt with both hands, raising it high above his head like an executioner preparing to stroke. The scene, however, had no executioner’s finality–there was no head to sever, only a pie filled with trapped birds awaiting their dramatic release. 

Just as Aegon was about to bring the blade down with exaggerated force, a soft voice cut through the anticipation. “Aegon…”

He froze, his gaze shifting to the source of the interruption–his sister-wife, standing quietly at the edge of the gathering. Her expression was gentle yet reproachful, her eyes meeting his with a knowing look. She shook her head ever so slightly, offering him a gentle reminder, “The birds…”

Daenera watched as Aegon hesitated, the confidence in his bravado faltering for a brief moment as he seemed to realize what his wife meant. His grip slackened, and he lowered the sword, seemingly deciding to heed Helaena’s gentle warning. No longer poised to hack the pie like an executioner, Aegon stepped forward, adjusting his stance. He turned the sword so the point aimed downward, and began sawing carefully along the roof of the pie's golden crust. 

With his knees slightly bent, Aegon’s face took on an almost comical expression of concentration, his tongue briefly darting out in focus. The Valyrian steel sliced effortlessly through the brittle crust, moving methodically as he worked his way around the pie. 

“Surely, the Conqueror never imagined that his sword would ever be used as a glorified carving knife at a feast,” Daenera muttered quietly to Aemond, her eyes fixed on Aegon. Despite her cool tone, she could feel the flicker of amusement radiating from Aemond beside her, even without looking at him. 

She continued, her words laced with a subtle irony. “For all your faults, at least you know how to wield your sword properly.”

The amusement radiating from Aemond seemed to swell, enveloping her with an intensity that made Daenera’s heart tighten. It pressed against her like a palpable force, suffocating in its quiet arrogance. She didn’t need to look at him to sense the smugness rolling off him in waves, nor to know that the smirk on his lips had undoubtedly deepened. His satisfaction was almost tangible, and it only served to needle at her nerves.

Finally, using the tip of the sword, he pried the top open just enough that the birds inside saw the light and fluttered around. In a sudden rush, the crust collapsed inward, and a flurry of white wings erupted from the pie. The doves soared into the air, their escape sending ripples of laughter and applause through the gathered crowd. 

The birds took to the air in a fluttering of white wings, their flight erratic as they darted towards the vaulted ceilings. They flew through the dimness, searching for an escape, only to find themselves trapped once again–this time by the towering stone walls and the arched roof. They passed by the tall, narrow windows, where the night had already fallen, leaving them no glimpse of the open sky beyond. 

“Who thought it was a good idea to release them indoors?” Daenera mused quietly to herself, her gaze following the unpredictable movements of the pigeons. Their fluttering wings were nearly drowned out by the hum of conversation and the faint strains of music in the background, the spectacle already losing its novelty. 

She knew how it would end–the birds would continue circling the high ceiling, confused and frantic, until they were either captured or dropped dead to the floor. In the meantime, they would soil the grand hall, leaving an unpleasant aftermath for the servants to deal with. It would have been far more fitting, she thought, to open the pie outside, where the birds might have truly flown free. 

A servant approached Daenera with a slice of pigeon pie, setting it delicately on a plate before her–it had been cut from the separate pigeon pie meant for the guests, rather than the ornate structure that had once housed the pigeons. 

Aegon stood at the center of attention, his smile broad and arms spread wide, basking in the applause and cheers that filled the hall. He soaked in the adulation as though it were his rightful due, reveling in the spectacle he had created. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he turned to face Aemond, his grin growing wider.

“And not a drop of blood shed,” Aegon quipped, his voice filled with jest. “May it bring you luck in this marriage, brother.”

“Here,” Daenera said softly, drawing Aemond’s attention away from his brother and towards herself, eager to conclude the ceremonial gestures. The crust crumbled beneath her fork as she delicately cut a piece of the pie, scooping it up. As they stood close, she glanced at him through her lashes, feeling the weight of his gaze settle on her once more. 

Meeting his eye, Daenera lifted the fork to his lips, playing the role of the dutiful wife, offering him the first bite of the pie. Aemond’s lips parted, his expression unreadable as he accepted the fork. He closed his mouth around it with deliberate slowness, the subtle curve of his lips hinting at a sharpness–a smugness that made her seethe. It was as though he took pleasure in the intimacy of the moment, turning it into something she couldn’t quite grasp, something that left an itch deep within her, frustratingly out of reach.

She wondered what would happen if she simply shoved the fork forward, letting it stab the back of his throat, wiping that smug expression from his face. The thought flickered in her mind, but she suppressed it quickly. It seemed, however, that Aemond had already read the dark amusement in her eyes, as his lips withdrew from the fork with deliberate slowness, his smirk only deepening in response to her silent musings. That knowing gleam in his eye made her irritation flare even more.

Breaking eye contact, Daenera lowered the fork and plate to the table, her movements precise as she pushed the moment aside, trying to regain her composure. 

“What do you all say to the bride and groom finally sharing a dance?” Aegon’s voice rang out through the hall, his tone eager to stir the crowd into cheers–and so they did, responding with a wave of enthusiastic cheers, seemingly eager to indulge his antics. Aegon turned back to Aemond, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips, eyes gleaming with mischief as he issued his challenge. 

“And what do you say, Aemond?” He teased. “Are you willing to come down from your pedestal for a dance with your wife, or should I take over this task as well and dance with your lovely bride?”

The implication hung heavily in the air, Aegon’s challenge thinly veiled–are you man enough to step up? His gaze flickered to Daenera before adding, “I don’t mind. I’m sure she’d be flattered to dance with the king on her wedding day.”

The taunt lingered, sharp and deliberate, daring Aemond to respond. The crowd watched expectantly, as Aemond extended a hand towards Daenera. 

Daenera’s gaze flicked to Aemond’s hand, his long, lithe fingers stretched out expectantly before her, waiting. A subtle tightness gripped her chest as she hesitated for only a moment, then placed her hand in his, the warmth of his touch stirring an uneasy awareness within her. He pulled her gently towards the dance floor, his grip firm but not forceful. 

With her free hand, she once again clutched the heavy fabric of her skirts, holding them steady as they ascended the steps. Aegon’s loud and boisterous clap echoed behind them, but Daenera dismissed it, her focus fixed on the path ahead. They moved gracefully around the remnants of the pigeon pie, which was being hurriedly cleared away, though the occasional flutter of wings still stirred in the rafters above. The crowd parted seamlessly, clearing a path as Daenera and Aemond made their way to the center of the dance floor. All eyes in the court were fixed on them, watching with eager anticipation, the tension between them all but invisible to those around them. 

Aemond’s hand slipped from hers, leaving her palm tingling with the lingering memory of his touch. Standing before him, Daenera’s heart pounded in her chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of her dress with a sudden intensity. She kept her gaze fixed on the silver dragons embroidered on his doublet, their wings stretching across the fabric in intricate detail. The same silver threads that adorned her own gown intertwined with the dark, almost black, green of his attire. Glass beads woven into the embroidery sparkled like stars catching the flickering candlelight. 

Releasing the fabric of her dress, she slowly dragged her eyes upward from the embroidery. Her gaze traced the small braid that fell over his shoulder, the rest of his silver hair cascading loosely down his back. Her attention shifted to the pale skin of his neck, following the line of his jaw until her eyes settled on his lips. The familiar smirk rested there, soft and indifferent, the same expression he so often wore, masking his true thoughts. 

His lips parted, and in a low murmur, he asked, “Ready?”

Daenera’s eyes threatened to betray her, flicking upward briefly–almost reaching his eye–before she forced herself to look away, refusing to meet Aemond’s gaze. She gave him a subtle nod, the gesture small and nearly imperceptible, yet conveying all that was needed as they prepared to begin the dance. 

The music swelled gently around them, a soft melody weaving through the air. They began by bowing to one another with practiced grace, then slowly circled each other like opposing forces, their movements measured and deliberate. The first steps took them apart, only for the rhythm of the dance to pull them back together, their palms pressing lightly against one another’s. They circled again, this time both hands meeting. 

They both knew this dance well–it was the same one they had stumbled through as children. Back then, Aemond, much like his brother and her own, had shown little enthusiasm for the dance lessons. It had been a time before he had lost his eye, before Daenera had gone to Dragonstone. She remembered the way he had glowered at her, a blush tinting his cheeks, when he had been pushed towards her and told to practice this very dance. At the time, Daenera had taken his reluctance as a personal slight–a rejection that had stung more than she’d wanted to admit.

Yet, as soon as they had started, their movements clumsy and unrefined, they found an unexpected amusement in it. Their eyes had been entirely glued to their feet, both of them trying and failing to avoid stepping on one another. Inevitably, they had knocked heads, leading to a moment of shared laughter that lightened the mood. The session turned playful, filled with teasing and chuckles, until the moment came for Aemond to place his hand on the small of her back. The sudden closeness had flushed their cheeks, and Aemond had suddenly refused to continue. He had pulled away leaving Daenera to finish the lesson with Jace while Aemond sat quietly on the sidelines, watching. 

But now, years later, it seemed he had learned the steps well. He moved with confidence, guiding her through the familiar motions with ease, the clumsiness of youth lost over the years. 

And yet, as his hand slipped to the small of her back, she felt a flush rush beneath her skin. His touch sent an almost unbearable heat through her, as though a flame had been ignited near the base of her spine, burning slowly but intensely. 

Daenera felt much like a moth circling a flame, the searing heat threatening to scorch her wings, yet she remained caught in the irresistible pull towards the fire, unable to escape its burn–as though it was a dance towards the inevitable doom, destruction in its most loving form. The warmth had ignited at her spine spread throughout her body in a slow, deliberate wave as Aemond’s hand slid from the small of her back, his touch trailing around her waist until it rested firmly against her lower stomach. The pressure brought her closer to him, their bodies nearly flush, and she could feel the soft, steady warmth of his breath against her shoulder. 

For a moment, there was nothing but the sensation of his body pressed firmly against hers, his warmth enveloping her completely, searing against her skin like the caress of a flame. The scent of sandalwood clung to him, mingling with the rich aroma of new leather and the musky undertones that were distinctly his. Beneath the warmth of these familiar notes, Daenera detected a hint of citrus–likely from the bath he had taken before dressing–combined with a subtle sweetness of lavender and almond. Each note of his scent seemed to linger, drawing her deeper into the moment, heightening her awareness of his presence.

With a fluid grace, his other hand guided hers outward, extending her arm like the wing of a bird preparing to take flight. His fingers grazed hers, a fleeting brush that sent a shiver up her arm before he tightened his grip, his hold firm yet careful. In one smooth motion, he pulled her hand back, using it to spin her effortlessly in his arms, her skirts flaring gently with the movement. The world seemed to blur for a moment, the court, the music, and the eyes watching them all fading into the background, leaving only the heat of his touch and the intensity of the moment between them. 

As they came to face one another again, Daenera found herself unable to resist the urge to glance up at Aemond. His gaze met hers, and for a shuddering heartbeat, the rest of the room faded away. His eye, that solitary, piercing blue, seemed to shimmer–like stars fading into a morning sky. There was something terrifying in the way Aemond beheld her, as if she were the only thing that had ever existed. His gaze, fierce and unwavering, held a warmth that felt dangerously intimate, almost tender. Yet beneath it was a fire–an all-consuming intensity that threatened to burn through the shattered remnants of her heart, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. 

Though his expression remained cool and controlled, the stoic mask of steel he always wore, Daenera caught a glimpse of the boy she had once known. The boy for whom she had cut her palm, the memory of that moment burned fiercely within her as if the old wound had reopened. It seared through her now, just as it had in the sept when she had walked down the aisle, when she had refused to meet his gaze, and when the High Septon had sanctified their union. It burned as Aemond had spoken his vows, echoing the same words he had whispered the night they had cut their palms, but spoken them anew–vows that had made her heart weep with his love. 

Isse aōha perzys nyke rijībagon.

In your fire I worship.

Isse se vāedar hen aōha prūmia mazeman lyks.

In your breath I find life, in the beating of your heart I find peace.

Isse aōha ondos, iā egros lēda skore kostā gaomagon naejot nekēbagon hen skoros iksis aōhon.

In your palm, a blade, with which you may use to carve out what is yours.

Ondoso aōha prūmia rests ñuhon.

By your heart mine rests.

Nyke tepagon ao ñuha jorepnon.

I give you my prayer.

Isse aōha nesh, morghon kesan gīmigon, se isse aōha perzys kesan zālagon.

In your embrace, I will welcome Death; in your fire, I shall be consumed.

Ñuha jorrāelagon, bisa nyke vow naejot ao ondoso Perzys Ānogār.

My love, this vow I make to you with fire and blood.

The words echoed in the deepest corners of Daenera’s mind, intertwining with the melody as they moved in perfect rhythm. Their eyes remained locked, the intensity of his gaze impossible to escape. 

Aemond stood before her now, but she saw both the boy she had once loved and the man he had become. A monster, sharpened by time and pain. And yet, how cruel it was to catch these feeling glimpses of what had been lost–of what could have been. Cruel that her heart twisted, aching for him in spite of everything, longing for a shadow of a past that no longer existed. She hated him. She hated him for what he had done. She hated him for what he had become. But most of all, she hated him for what he had done to her–the way his love had ruined her. It had not been a gentle ruin; it had been a brutal, savage ruin–it had been the kind that had cracked open her ribcage to tear into the soft, tender flesh of her heart, shredding it to ribbons. 

And she hated him for the way even now, after everything, the remnants of her heart still trembled for him.

His touch seemed to linger on her, burning across her skin like an invisible brand, as though his hands had scored their mark into her very soul. Every ghostly brush of his fingers left her feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that enraged her. Yet, even in her fury, she could feel that treacherous flicker of longing–of desire–still alive somewhere deep within her. 

And the worst of it all was how much she hated herself for feeling any of it. She loathed the ache that nestled deep inside her chest, buried beneath the roiling sea of grief and a violent storm of rage–a yearning she couldn’t seem to rid herself of. That longing, hidden in the darkest corners of her ruined heart, gnawed at her relentlessly, a constant reminder of all she had lost. 

The dance had become a silent battle, an intricate push and pull, with Daenera feeling both drawn to and consumed by the fire that was Aemond. Every movement felt like a step closer to the flame, yet she couldn’t help but fight to resist the inevitability of being consumed by it. 

Their palms pressed together, his left hand against her own–scar against scar, vows made in blood that now felt like a bond neither could fully sever. Slowly, deliberately, they slid their hands down, the space between them filled with unspoken tension–a fragile thread pulled taut.

A prickle of tears stung at the back of her throat as she gazed up at him, her vision wavering slightly. The inner corners of her brows inched upward, betraying the depths of emotion she fought to contain. Her lips parted, and a shuddering breath escaped, as though the weight of everything left unsaid threatened to break free with it. The closeness of the moment was almost unbearable–teetering on a knife's edge.

The intensity of his gaze held her captive, as if in this moment, they were both waiting for something–an apology, a confession, maybe even forgiveness. But neither spoke. There was no apology, no confession and there would be no forgiveness. 

As the final notes of the dance faded into silence, Daenera stepped back from Aemond, needing the distance. Her palm still tingled, seared with the lingering warmth of his skin against hers, and though she had stepped back, her entire body seemed to smolder with a tingling heat that she struggled to dismiss. Her body felt like a hearth, each breath stroking the flames of feelings she wished to extinguish. 

With a measured breath, she faced the court. Her chest felt heavy, as if an invisible hand tightened around her heart, making it difficult to breathe. Despite this, she presented herself as composed, a smile painted on thinly to mask the turmoil beneath. She bowed gracefully, a formal acknowledgement of their shared performance, her gaze intentionally avoiding his to escape the piercing scrutiny she felt from it.

Aemond stood there, unmoving, his gaze fixed on her, lips slightly pursed in that way he often had when he was thinking–measuring. His expression was inscrutable, his eye seeming almost like a dark pool of ink that revealed nothing, and yet she could feel the weight of his stare, heavy and intense, as though seeking to pry her mask off. 

The thunderous sound of applause erupted through the throne room, the court clapping for them with great enthusiasm. The noise seemed to swell around her, echoing off the stone walls, but it felt distant, almost detached from the moment. The ruckus seemed to send the birds into flight once more, their wings fluttering overhead. 

Forcing herself to maintain the illusion, Daenter turned away from him, her heart racing beneath the facade. Even as the court roared with approval, all she could feel was the heat of his presence lingering in the space they had just shared, the weight of his gaze still on her as if he was waiting for something–something the could not give him. 

The low hum of conversation gradually resumed as Daenera and Aemond made their way through the crowd, the lively melody of the next song filling the throne room. Dancers eagerly returned to the floor, their laughter and merriment filling the air. As they neared the dias, she hesitated, a sense of urgency gnawing at her, and she turned to face Aemond. 

“It is late,” she said, her voice betraying a slight tremor despite her efforts to sound composed. “It has been a long day, and I would like to retire for the night.”

Aemond’s eye remained steady on hers. “Let me walk you to our chambers–” he began, his tone light.

“No,” she interjected, her voice sharper than she intended, the words slipping out before she could soften them. She forced a stiff smile onto her lips, though it felt brittle. “Stay, enjoy the revelry. It will take me some time to prepare for bed anyway.”

And she needed some time to breathe. 

There was a moment of silence as Aemond studied her, his expression remaining unchanged, though his gaze darkened with something unspoken. His eye lingered on her face, as if searching for the meaning behind her sudden withdrawal–knowing the meaning behind it. 

Finally, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, though the muscles in his jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. 

Daenera turned away, her heart pounding in her chest, her composure fraying and barely hanging on as she sought to move through the revelry. She aimed for the great doors at the end of the hall, each step fueled by a growing desire to escape the stifling atmosphere and prying eyes that filled the room.

Just then, Aegon appeared, sweeping in front of her with a mischievous flourish, blocking her path. Before she could react, his hand sneaked around her wrist, his grip firm as he spun her back towards the dias–and her husband. 

“Where do you think you’re going, sweet niece?” He drawled, his words dripping with amusement. 

A sense of dread gnawed at her stomach as her hopes for a discreet exit vanished. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to remain steady and cordial despite the unease crawling beneath her skin. “I am retiring for the evening.”

Aegon grinned, a lazy, predatory smile that sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine. The pungent scent of wine hung heavy on his breath, sickeningly sweet and more prominent than before. His eyes gleamed with mischief, his intoxication feeding the cruelty that lingered beneath his outward joviality. 

Daenera much preferred Aegon when he was sober, seeking approval with a quiet desperation, rather than the maliciousness that seemed to grow within him with every cup of wine. His cruelty, though veiled in boisterous laughter and a façade of jollity, was unmistakable–thick with a sense of ‘good fun’ that served as a flimsy excuse for the humiliation he aimed at others, all for the amusement of his friends. They stood by, chuckling at his antics, their laughter feeding his arrogance. At any other time, Daenera might have wondered if this behavior was merely a mask he wore for their benefit, or if this was who he truly was beneath the surface.

“Oh no, no, you can’t leave like that,” he chided playfully yet insistently, shaking his head as if the idea of her leaving was preposterous. His grip on her wrist tightened ever so slightly, as if to emphasize his point. He gestured towards his group of friends to come closer. “Not without some fun.” He gestured with a grand sweep of his arm to the small crowd of his friends clustered nearby, their laughter ringing out like the cackles of vultures circling a fresh kill. “We have tradition to follow, don’t we?”

Aegon released her and clapped his hands together loudly, “It’s time for the bedding!”

His words echoed through the hall as he beckoned his friends to join in the spectacle. The court’s attention once again shifted towards then, and Daenera felt the walls of the room close in, her heart pounding against her ribs like a caged animal. 

A surge of panic ripped through Daenera, sharp and unrelenting, as she fought to keep her mask of composure from slipping. The mere thought of being paraded before the court, subjected to the public humiliation in such a vulgar spectacle, made her blood turn cold–all for Aegon’s amusement. It would be a vulgar display that would strip away what little dignity that remained to her. Her chest tightened with dread, and for a fleeting moment, she considered the possibility of turning to Aemond for help.

She despised the thought of needing him, hated herself for even considering it. And yet, deep down, a small part of her clung to the hope that he might step in, that he would spare her from the degradation looming before her. 

Daenera found herself torn, caught between conflicting thoughts. On one hand, she believed Aemond wouldn’t want to humiliate her further–nor himself–by allowing the spectacle to proceed. Yet, she also knew he was, as ever, a dutiful hound, loyal and obedient to whatever was commanded of him. That unwavering sense of duty had always defined him, and she feared it would once again. 

The uncertainty gnawed at her, leaving her unsure of whether he would step in or simply play his part, as he always had.

Still, her gaze flickered towards him, seeking something–anything–that might signal he would break from that rigid sense of duty–to protect her as he had vowed to do. Aemond’s single eye was set on his brother, wide with fury, his lips pressed into a firm, thin line that teetered on the edge of a sneer. His expression was cold, controlled, but beneath that icy facade, there was a tension. 

“No,” Aemond’s voice cut through the noise with a quiet but unmistakable authority, soft yet sharp, like slik concealing a blade of steel. “There will be no bedding.”

Aegon’s drunken laugh followed, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned in closer. “Oh, come now, brother. It’s tradition, after all. The ladies of the court will strip you down to your nakedness and carry you to bed–I’m sure they’re all eager to see what you’ve been hiding under those layers. All that training of yours must have left them curious…” He threw a sloppy arm around Aemond’s shoulders, the gesture awkward and unbalanced as he struggled to reach his taller brother. 

Aemond stood rigid, wholly disinterested in the embrace, a scowl on his face. 

“And as for your lovely wife,” Aegon continued, his tone growing more vulgar as he gestured towards Daenera. “We’ll strip her too, make sure she’s all ready for you. That way, you won’t have to waste any time, brother. Perhaps it is time to revive the ancient right of the first night–”

Before Aegon could finish his crude jest, Aemond’s patience snapped. With a sudden, rough motion, he shrugged Aegon’s arm off, the force nearly sending his brother stumbling were it not for Aemond’s hand shooting out and grabbing onto his doublet, his grin faltering as he seemed to sense the shift in his brother’s demeanor. Aemond’s eye blazed with barely contained fury, the sneer that had been threatening to surface finally breaking free, twisting his features with cold contempt. 

The tension in the room thickened, like the heavy stillness between a flash of lightning and the inevitable crash of thunder. Every gaze was fixed on Aemond and Aegon, the court holding its collective breath, waiting for the storm that seemed ready to break.

The lord commander of the Kingsguard and several guards rushed forward, ready to intervene and pull the two brothers apart before the situation grew further, hovering around the scene. The clamor of the court grew quiet, the murmur of shocked nobles blending with the scraping of armor and the hurried steps of the guards. 

“Aemond,” came Alicent’s voice, cutting through the commotion with the weight of maternal authority. She stepped forward, her expression one of urgency, halting Aemond before his rage could spiral out of control. 

Daenera’s heart raced, her pulse thundering in her ears as the weight of the moment pressed down on her. She could feel the eyes of the court fixed on them, every gaze sharp and expectant, waiting for something to break. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the possibility of chaos. Aemond had made his stance clear–his refusal to indulge in Aegon’s crude game had been firm, unwavering. And yet, Daenera knew this wasn’t over. The danger lingered, simmering beneath the surface.

The room seemed to collectively hold its breath, the silence deafening as it stretched on. Daenera felt it too, a tightening in her chest, uncertain of what would come next. Her gaze flicked to Aemond, his posture rigid, every muscle coiled like a predator ready to strike. His eye gleamed with something unreadable, a quiet storm brewing just beneath the calm surface. Though he stood defiant, she could sense the battle was far from finished.

Aemond’s fist was still clenched in his doublet, holding him fast as he glared down at him. Aegon, for all his drunken bravado, blinked sluggishly, swaying slightly on his feet, his weight supported by Aemond’s grip, but grinning nonetheless, as if the confrontation amused him more than anything. 

“There will be no bedding ceremony,” Alicent’s voice cut through the tension, firm and filled with reproach. 

Aegon raised his hands in mock surrender, a lazy grin spread across his face and a glint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s all in good fun, isn’t it, brother?” He said, his tone light but laced with provocation. “It’s not as if your bride is some blushing maid…”

Approaching the spectacle with measured steps, Otto placed a calming hand on Aemond’s shoulder. In a low voice, he urged, “Release him, Aemond.”

Aemond’s shoulders were rigid, his entire body taut with barely restrained fury as he stood over his brother. His lips were drawn tight in a sneer, nostrils flaring with the effort to keep himself from lashing out. His fingers gripped Aegon’s doublet with a white-knuckled intensity, and for a moment, it seemed as though Aemond might snap, might unleash the storm of anger hidden beneath his icy exterior. 

The air was thick with danger, it seemed to cling to Aemond like a second skin–sharp, lethal, and ready to strike. 

Daenera watched him closely, even as Helaena quietly came to her side, offering a gentle hand for her to grasp, her focus remained on Aemond. Her heart pounded fiercely within her chest, each beat echoing through her body, while her breath seemed to stall in her lungs. A strange, warm weight wrapped itself around her chest, tightening with every passing second, and settled like a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach.

Slowly, with deliberate control, Aemond peeled his fingers away from the fabric, one by one, the motion filled with such a quiet menace that it felt as though the room itself held its breath. His presence, towering over his brother, was a study in barely restrained violence. 

Standing tall, Aemond towered over Aegon, his lithe fingers rough as they tugged at the rumpled fabric of his brother’s doublet, straightening it with cold precision. His fingers then rose to brush over Aegon’s shoulders, adjusting the fabric, a gesture that would have seemed casual if not for the quiet threat lingering in the movement.  

The sneer on his face slowly twisted into a sharp, dangerous smile–one that seemed capable of cutting as deeply as any blade. In a low, dangerously soft voice, he drawled, “Yes… It’s all in good fun, brother.”

Aemond’s hands gripped both of Aegon’s shoulders, squeezing tightly–perhaps too tightly–before giving him a rough shake that was a semblance of a brotherly gesture. But there was no warmth in it. One hand slid upward, patting Aegon on the side of the head, the pressure just hard enough to make his brother grimace and blink with each tap. 

“Perhaps,” Aemond murmured in the same lethal drawl, “it would be wise to enjoy the festivities with a little less enthusiasm for the wine, brother.” His voice held a cool, almost condescending tone. “It seems to embolden you beyond the bounds of propriety, and you should take care not to forget yourself. Rūntas naejot papagi  rāpykta–kesan daor sagon sīr imandūlta hembar jēda.”

Remember to tread carefully–I might not be so forgiving next time.

A scowl darkened Aegon’s face as he blinked, seemingly trying to understand the warning that had been given to him–scowling like a child being chastised. His lips twisted in a near pout as he brushed Aemond’s hands off his shoulders, his previous bravado now visibly deflated. 

“There’s no need for another bedding ceremony,” Otto’s voice rang out loudly, addressing the court with authority. His hand tapped Aemond on the back, signaling him to withdraw. “The marriage has already been consummate after their private ceremony.”

Daenera felt the heat rush to her cheeks, the humiliation sharp beneath her skin, but she kept her expression neutral, holding her composure as the eyes of the court flicked towards her. 

Clapping his hands loudly, Otto ordered the musicians to start anew.

As the music resumed, filling the throne room with its melodious strains, a lingering silence held sway over the gathered courtiers. The recent confrontation between the king and his brother had left a palpable tension hanging in the air, a taut thread that seemed ready to snap at the slightest provocation. For a long, drawn-out moment, the usual hum of conversation was muted, the courtiers slow to recover from the spectacle they had just witnessed.

Gradually, however, voices began to rise once more, the initial hesitance giving way as the attendees cautiously re-engaged, weaving through the intricacies of courtly dialogue. Though the conflict had been averted, at least outwardly, an undercurrent of unease remained. Eyes flickered toward Aemond and Aegon, as if the court still anticipated another clash.The music, though lively, could not fully mask the residual stiffness that now colored the interactions around the room.

Warily, Daenera watched as Aemond ascended the dias, his movements deliberate, exuding that quiet intensity he always carried. He circled the table, his long fingers reaching for the green velvet cloak that rested on the seat of her chair–abandoned and forgotten. Without a word, he draped it over his arm, his expression unreadable as he descended the dias once more, making his way towards her and Helaena.

When he came to stand before them, he quietly unfolded the cloak with care, though its weight felt anything but gentle as he placed it heavily over her shoulders. The rich fabric settled around her like an oppressive shroud, its familiar weight almost stifling, a reminder of the expectations that came with it. 

“There’s a chill in the air,” was all he said, his voice cool and detached, before turning and walking away, leaving the words hanging between them like an afterthought. 

Daenera’s eyes followed him as he ascended the dias once again, watching the gentle sway of his silver hair as it cascaded down his back, the intricate braids woven into the strands, silver cuffs gleaming. His posture remained taut, the tension still visible in his shoulders as he returned to his seat. Once there, his gaze found her again, a brief, unreadable flicker of something in his eye before she looked away.

“Come,” Helaena’s soft voice broke through the moment, gently pulling Daenera’s attention away from Aemond’s piercing stare. 

As Daenera made to leave the throne room, she could still feel Aemond’s gaze linger on her. His attention teased against the back of her neck–a tingling sensation that spread across her skin, making her all too aware of his presence, even from a distance. It was only when they passed through the tall, heavy doors that the intensity of his stare seemed to fade, as though she finally stepped out of the reach of the sun after too long beneath its burning heat. The absence of his gaze was palpable, a sudden chill settling over her, much like the fleeting coolness when the sun is swallowed by a passing cloud. 

Beyond the doors, the world was cloaked in the deep shadows of night. The music and murmur of conversation from the throne room filtered through the thick wood, reduced to a distant hum, indistinctive and low, as if the evening’s revelry was slowly fading from relevance. 

The cool night air greeted them as they stepped outside the Hall of the Red Keep. The sky overhead was heavy with clouds, blotting out the stars and casting the path before them into darkness. Only the brave flicker of braziers lit their way, the flames standing defiant against the night, casting long, shifting shadows on the stone path towards Maegor’s Holdfast. The sound of their footsteps seemed louder in the quiet of the night, the flickering light and shadow playing tricks on the eye as they walked further from revelry. 

Daenera tilted her head back, eyes drifting shut as she let the cool night air wash over her. The quiet was almost overwhelming–so empty of the hum of voices and music in the throne room that it felt like the silence was on the verge of screaming. For a moment, she simply stood there, drawing in a slow breath through her nose, savoring the scent of the night. It was soft and crisp, but beneath it lingered familiar hints–sandalwood and leather, minged with flowers and almond. The combination sent a shiver down her spine, gooseflesh rising as the night’s chill nibbed at her exposed skin. 

When she reopened her eyes, she found Helaena had mirrored her, gazing up at the clouded sky as well. 

“It’s a shame the night is cloudy,” Daenera mused as they began their walk back to Maegor’s Holdfast, her voice soft in the stillness. “I would have loved to see the stars.”

Helaena, her arm gently linked with Daenera’s as they walked in perfect step, responded quietly. “The stars are still there,” she said, her voice almost dreamy, “just beyond the clouds.”

Their conversation dissolved into a comfortable silence, the weight of the night easing around them as they moved through the dimly lit path. Though they weren’t truly alone–Ser Arryk walked a respectful distance behind them, his armored steps a faint echo in the background–the moment felt like a reprieve. 

They reached Maegor’s Holdfast and made their way inside, the echo of their footsteps filling the dimly lit corridor. As they ascended the steps, Daenera instinctively turned towards the familiar path to her old chambers before remembering–her heart quickened, its pace suddenly frantic, like the erratic beat of a rabbit's heart. She swallowed hard, pushing the fluttering sensation down, burying it beneath the layers of apprehension and irritation that seemed to surface in its place. 

Entering her new chambers, Daenera was greeted by a room that was far from the quiet sanctuary she longed for. Crates of fabric was stacked against the walls and away from the floor, spilling over with silks and velvets in various shades of green, silver, and gold. Wedding gifts littered nearly every available surface–boxes of jewels, ornate goblets, fine tapestries–each item a reminder of the expectations that now weighed on her. Everything felt misplaced, chaotic, and the task of organizing it all loomed over her like an unwanted burden. 

As they entered, Edelin approached with a bright, eager smile. “The last of your things has been moved, so everything is where it should be.”

Daenera managed a small nod, though her mind was elsewhere–his presence looming at the periphery of her mind. The clutter of the main chambers almost felt like a reflection of the disarray she felt inside. She could already sense the tension building within her, a quiet frustration that seemed to needle at her fraught nerves. 

She leaned heavily against one of the tables, using it for balance as she bent down to unfasten her shoesOne by one, she slipped them off, wiggling her aching feet in a futile attempt to ease the soreness. She rubbed the tender arches with her fingers, though the relief was fleeting. As her feet settled onto the floor, the coolness of the stone beneath the rug seeped through the fabric of her socks, the chill creeping into her skin. It was almost nice. 

“You’d think I spent the entire night dancing,” she muttered, her tone laced with weary exasperation. “My feet are throbbing so much, I’m almost certain that Mertha either shark my shoes or had them ill-fit from the start.”

Edelin, who had was carefully removing the heavy cloak from Daenera’s shoulders, paused with a puzzled frown on her face. She tilted her head as she draped the cloak over the back of a nearby chair. 

“The shoes were made specifically for you, Princess,” she answered. “They even used one of your regular shoes for comparison so that it would fit perfectly.”

“Then she must have shrunk them,” Daenera quipped with a lightness in her voice, more jesting than genuinely believing Mertha to have done that–though she wouldn’t put it past that old hag. She felt the coolness of the stone floor beneath her feet as she padded across the cluttered common room and into the adjoining bedroom. There, her gaze was briefly drawn to the painting of Harrenhal, now finished, its dark, looming structure captured in brushstrokes. 

“I’m sorry,” Helaena’s quiet voice pulled Daenera from her thoughts. She turned, finding her seated before the hearth, having made herself comfortable. The soft, orange glow of the dwindling fire cast a warm light over her, accentuating her strange position–she had one leg draped over the armrest, the other likely nestled below her as she twisted in her seat, folding one arm on the back of the chair, resting her chin on her forearm. It was a pose unbecoming of a lady, but it was undeniably Helaena. 

“What for?” Daenera asked, her brow furrowing as she looked over at Helaena while removing an erring, carefully placing it on the dressing table. The cool metal clinked softly against the wood. 

“Aegon,” Helaena answered simply, her tone gentle, though weighed with something deeper. “I don’t think his cruelty is always intentional.”

“It seems intentional,” Daenera muttered, her voice low as she removed the other earring. The emerald caught the soft light of the room, casting a faint green gleam before she placed it beside the other. “Do not apologize on his behalf. He is a grown man, and his deeds are his to own.”

Helaena shifted slightly in her seat, the firelight playing over her features as she tilted her head, resting her cheek on her arms now. “It’s a mask–his loudness. He wants to be liked, as I think all does. He craves approval, and often, he takes it too far. I don’t think he means to hurt people… not really. He doesn’t always do it on purpose.”

Daenera paused, her hand still on the table as she absorbed Helaena’s words. The flicker of firelight danced across Helaena’s pale skin, casting long shadows across her delicate features. There was an undeniable sadness in her voice, a quiet understanding that tugged at something within Daenera. 

“I think Aegon sees Aemond as everything he isn’t,” Helaena continued, her voice soft yet pensive. “And Aemond sees Aegon the same way–as everything he isn’t. One feels unworthy, the other feels more worthy. And it breeds a certain kind of envy… and loneliness…” Her fingers absently tugged at a loose thread on her sleeve, her gaze distant, lost in thought. “They both want what the other has.”

“And what does Aegon want?” Daenera asked quietly, a frown on her face as she watched Helaena with tentative curiosity. As she spoke, Edelin gently removed the veil from her hair, the weight of the gossamer fabric slipping away like a sigh. It shimmered in the firelight, the small glass beads gleaming like morning dew–or like embers, on the verge of igniting the fragile material. 

Edelin carefully placed the veil over the back of a chair, the beads continuing to catch the light, before returning to Daenera. Her fingers moved deftly to the laces of her dress, tugging and pulling with practiced ease. 

“Love,” Helaena answered with a soft drawl. “And to not feel alone.” She tilted her head slightly, eyes half-lidded as her gaze stared into the distance, fixed on a spot on the floor. “The same as Aemond. They’ve both built walls to keep from being hurt. We all build walls and masks, some of us have doors, some have windows… and some, I think, have spikes on the other side.”

Her fingers absentmindedly traced the fabric of her dress as she continued. “Aemond hides behind his wall, shutting himself away. But Aegon… Aegon sits atop his own wall, staring down at the other side. He’s loud and performs for the crowd, hoping they won’t see how lonely he is up there.”

As Helaena spoke, the tightness of Daenera’s dress began to ease. The fabric, now loosened around her torso, finally gave her room to breathe. She sighed softly in relief as the heavy dress slid from her form, pooling at her feet in a rich cascade of ivory and beaded embellishments. Stepping out of the center of the pooling fabric, she allowed Edelin to lift it away, the glass beads making a faint scratching sound as they dragged over the stone floor. 

“If he wanted to be loved,” Daenera mused, reaching behind herself to untie the laces of her underdress, the lighter gold fabric offering far more freedom than the heavy wedding gown, “then perhaps he shouldn’t be shouting japes from atop his wall or throwing stones at anyone who dares get close. Your brother is a twat.”

“Which one.”

“Both of them.”

A soft giggle slipped from Helaena’s lips, breaking the thoughtful stillness in the room. Her distant gaze warmed, her eyes meeting Daenera’s with a flicker of amusement. 

When Edelin returned, her movements quick and efficient, she helped undo the last of the ties on Daenera’s underdress. The fabric slipped from Daenera’s form with ease, and she was swift to slip her hand into th hidden pocket, removing the small pouch of lavender and berries. It was a comforting weight in her palm, familiar and grounding–though it made a pang of dread stab between her ribs. 

The final layer of her clothing was removed, leaving her bare save for the socks that reached her mid-thigh. As Edelin gathered the discarded garments and quietly retreated from the room, Daenera padded softly across the floor, her steps silent against the cold stone. She carefully slipped the lavender pouch beneath her pillow where it would remain safe and secret. 

She sat down on the bed, the mattress sinking slightly beneath her weight, and began to unfasten the delicate strings that kept her socks in place. As she slid them down her thighs, the soft fabric whispering against her skin, Helaena’s voice drifted through the quiet room, her tone distant, as though lost in thought.

“With a bitter berry, one life is spared. Words once lost cannot be reclaimed. In the shadow of doubt, the beast hungers, eager for a son to claim.” 

The words hung in the air, filling the room with an eerie sort of quiet. Daenera paused, her hands stilling as she listened, her heart giving a faint, uneasy flutter. She had grown accustomed to Helaena’s musings, but there was something in her voice tonight–something unsettling, a sadness Daenera didn’t understand. 

“What’s that?” Daenera asked, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of the words. Their meaning was elusive, as it often were, slipping through her fingers like smoke. She knew they meant something, but the significance only ever seemed clear in hindsight. 

Helaena’s gaze remained distant, her fingers idly tugging at the loose thread on her sleeve. “A thread,” she answered softly, her words as absent as her attention, seemingly more focused on the unraveling fabric than on the words she had just spoken. 

Before Daenera could ask any more questions, Edelin reentered the room, her cheeks flushed and arms struggling to carry a large chest. The young lady-in-waiting placed it on the floor with a huff of effort, her face bright with curiosity.

“Have you seen this?” Edelin asked breathlessly, her eyes wide as she stepped back from the chest, motioning towards it with an excited wave of her hand. The weight of the previous conversation faded as their focus shifted to the chest. 

The large box, its surface etched with intricate carvings, looked almost mythical in the dimly lit room. With quick, nimble fingers, Edelin lifted the lid of the ornate chest, revealing its contents. Beneath a delicate layer of gossamer fabric, pale silks lay neatly folded, their smooth surface catching the faint flow of the candlelight. Scattered around the fabrics that once were soft, velvety rose petals, their warm hues dark against the muted colors of the cloth. The sweet scent of roses immediately filled the room, mingling with the subtle hint of something spicy–cinnamon, perhaps, or saffron–creating an almost heady fragrance that swirled through the air.

As both Daenera and Helaena rose from their seats, approaching the chest with curiosity, Edelin’s enthusiasm seemed to falter, a hint of sheepishness creeping into her expression, as though she suddenly questioned her earlier excitement.  

Helaena reached the chest first, a playful quirk lifting the corners of her mouth as she peered inside. She reached into the chest, her fingers brushing delicately over the gossamer fabric before moving deeper to feel the smoothness of the materials beneath. Slowly, she selected a piece of sheer fabric, lifting it from its place. As she drew it out, the material unfurled gracefully in her hands, cascading down as it unfolded into its full shape, nearly weightless and shimmering faintly.

“From Lys, I think,” Helaena suggested, a lilt of amusement in her tone–almost teasing. She held up the fabric, seemingly admiring it. 

Daenera reached out and ran her fingers over the nightgown Helaena held up, marveling at how soft and light the fabric felt beneath her touch. The gown itself was sheer, so delicate it seemed to float in the air as Helaena held it by its slender shoulders. It had no sleeves, the collar dipping daringly low, almost to the navel. The cut of the gown followed the curve of the body, hugging the form before sweeping out from mid-thigh in a graceful, flowing shape. 

Her eyes drifted down into the crate, drawn to the treasures within. She reached for another nightgown, lifting it carefully from its nest of pale silks and rose petals. This one was equally sleeveless, but far more intricate. Embroidery and delicate silver spools in the shape of leaves were stitched into the fabric, catching the firelight in a subtle shimmer. The frond and back of the gown were daringly open, plunging below the navel, held together by thing silk strings woven through the sides to keep it from falling apart entirely. The gown flowed to the floor, light and airy, reminiscent of what Daenera imagined women might wear in the hot winds of Dorne or Pentos. 

“If Mertha were to see these, I fear she might choke on her own spittle,” Edelin murmured, her eyes wide with awe as she stared at the sheer nightgown Daenera held up. 

The thought of Mertha’s reaction amused Daenera, and a small, mischievous smile tugged at her lips. She gave a half-shrug, her tone light. “Hopefully.”

She could almost picture it–Mertha’s face twisted into one of her sour scowls, clutching her book of prayers like a shield against any perceived indecency. If the woman didn’t choke, she would certainly glare at Daenera with all the judgment she could muster, her lips tight and disapproving. Mertha would call her anything and everything just shy of ‘whore,’ though Daenera suspected, given the audacity of these gowns, she might not hold back the word altogether. 

The thought lingered, both amusing and annoying her, but as she looked down at the delicate fabric in her hands, Daenera found herself caring less and less about what Mertha might say–what she cared about was to make Aemond suffer.  

Helaena chuckled softly in response, the sound warm and light, as she reached into the chest once more–having folded the other dress over the back of a chair. This time, she pulled out a nightgown of thicker fabric. It was more embellished, its front adorned with frills that gave it a sense of opulence. The neckline plunged as well, but was wide enough to tease the hint of bare skin beneath, even the curve of a nipple. Its long, dramatic sleeves billowed out with loose fabric, more in line with the nightgowns Daenera was accustomed to wearing, save for the neckline. 

“This one is more like you,” Helaena mused with a smile, holding it up for Daenera to see, the gown falling in graceful waves of fabric. 

“Who are they from?” Edelin asked, her cheeks flushed but her eyes bright with curiosity as she removed yet another nightgown from the chest. This one was similar to the others–almost sheer, with a deep cut at the neck, but less dramatic in design. Its long sleeves were simple, and the gown was tailored to be from-fitting yet loose, offering only the barest suggestions of what lay beneath.

Daenera’s gaze shifted, drawn to the small note tucked between the folds of fabric. As she reached for it, Helaena spoke softly, “A daughter lost to a throne of silk, ruling an empire of her own.”

Raising an eyebrow at Helaena’s words, Daenera glanced toward her for a moment as she folded the gown over her arm. She picked up the note, the parchment delicate between her fingers as she unfolded it. A sweet, heady scent rose from the parchment, something floral and exotic, almost intoxicating. Her eyes scanned the neat, elegant script written in perfect High Valyrian: Naejot sīmonagon aōha valzȳrys zaldrīzes.

“To wake your husband’s dragon,” she read aloud with a slight frown on her face. The words were simple, their meaning unmistakable. There was no bastardization of the language, none of the regional influences common across Essos. The note was deliberate, precise, and wholly without indication of who had sent it. No name, no sigil–only the lingering scent and the suggestive message. 

“Do you know anyone from across the Narrow Sea?” Edelin asked, sinking to her knees beside the chest. Her hand sifted carefully through the remaining dresses inside, each one made of fine silks and sheer material. The soft fabrics, delicate in shades of ivory, light pink, and pale purples, seemed to shimmer in the low light. 

“No,” Daenera answered thoughtfully. “None that would be so presumptuous or audacious as to send something like this.”

Darqarrow Ernaan came to mind–a possibility, though a faint one. The last she’d heard, he was on his way back to the Stepstones, far from any places where he might send such gift. She dismissed the thought. 

“The better question,” Daenera mused, her voice lowering, “is how this got here. The blockade has stopped import by sea, has it not?”

Edelin nodded in agreement, her fingers brushing against another gown at the bottom of the chest. She fished it out carefully, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of it. The gown was a soft violet color, the shade so subtle it would beautifully complement the pale tones of silver hair. It was entirely sheer, the fabric almost translucent, and it was held together at the shoulders by silver clasps shaped like three dragon heads. The gown had been stitched with precision that allowed it to follow the curves of the body, leaving very little to the imagination. “These must have cost a fortune.”

The gift was lavish, perhaps too much so, and the mystery surrounding its arrival both intrigued and unsettled her. The blockade had stopped most ships from reaching King’s Landing–how, then, had this chest of gowns slipped through? And who could have sent it? 

Her wedding had been announced on the very day of the usurpation, barely a fortnight past. The blockade had been set in place swiftly after, making it nearly impossible for ships to sail into the waters of the Gullet–perhaps even the Narrow Sea–without careful scrutiny. 

If this gift had come from beyond the Stepstones–whether Lys or somewhere farther–it would still have had to cross the Stepstones, a territory that was now mainly under Velaryon control. Either the sender had managed to bypass both the Stepstones and the blockade, or the one responsible for the gift was much closer than she had originally imagined. 

The sweet scent of the parchment still lingered, clinging to the air as Daenera slipped the note back into the chest, the mystery gnawing at the back of her mind. But it was late, and the night held enough complications already. She abandoned her speculations, if only for the evening. 

Her fingers traced the edge of one of the delicate gowns, her lips curling into a smirk as a thought crossed her mind. She glanced at Edelin, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Which one do you think would make Aemond suffer the most.”

She imagined the look on Aemond’s face–his stoic mask wavering just slightly–and the thought sent a ripple of satisfaction through her. 

The girl balked for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise, but then let out a snort of amusement, her cheeks flushing an innocent pink. The playful expression on Edelin’s face was infectious, and Daenera couldn’t help but smile in return. 

“They all would,” Helaena said, her voice lilting as she held the more dramatic gown against herself, as though imagining wearing it. Then, with a thoughtful glance, she nodded towards the gown Edelin had previously held–the soft ivory one with a plunging neckline framed by delicate frills. “Though, I think you should wear that one.”

Daenera turned her gaze to the gown in question, admiring its simplicity and understated elegance. The fabric would follow the curve of her body, but with just enough looseness to leave something to the imagination. It wasn’t entirely sheer, but under the right light, it would hint at the silhouette beneath–subtle and alluring. 

Lifting the gown in her hands, she felt the lightness of the fabric, the intentional wrinkles pressed into it giving it a certain romantic beauty. “Help me with it.”

The lady-in-waiting moved quickly to assist, her deft fingers working the delicate fabric, careful not to tug too harshly. Daenera felt the cool material glide over her skin as she slipped into the gown, its soft texture almost weightless. As Edelin adjusted the fit, Daenera glanced in the mirror, admiring how the dress seemed to shimmer in the firelight, the subtle frills framing her neckline and drawing the eye in just the right way. 

Helaena watched with a gentle smile, her eyes twinkling with approval. “Aemond will definitely suffer.”

There was a lightness to her tone, but something knowing, too–an acknowledgement of the silent battles that would continue to play out between the two.

“It fits nicely with the–oh,” Helaena began, only to stop mid-sentence, her eyes widening slightly as if she had suddenly remembered something important. Without another word, she turned and swept through the room, her gown whispering softly against the floor as she moved with quiet urgency. Daenera watched her retreat, her curiosity piqued. 

Moments later, Helaena returned, a bundle of rich fabric cradled carefully in her arms. She let it unfold before them, revealing a robe of thick, red velvet. The fabric fell heavily, its weight luxurious and comforting, the deep red hue almost glowing in the firelight. Along the trim, small golden dragons were embroidered, soaring across the edges like leaves caught in an autumn wind. Each dragon was detailed, delicate, and reminded Daenera of Syrax. 

Daenera’s chest tightened as she reached out to touch the robe, her fingers grazing the soft, velvety surface. It was stunning, imbued with a sense of warmth and care, as if the garment itself was meant to envelop her in a kind of comfort she had been missing. 

“It will keep you warm,” Helaena said softly, her eyes gentle as they met Daenera’s. “And be a little something that makes you feel at home.”

The tightness in Daenera’s chest grew, a familiar ache rising as the robe reminded her of one her mother wore–velvet, with long sleeves bunched to create a graceful drape. Helaena held the robe open, patiently guiding Daenera into it, letting the heavy fabric settled across her shoulder. The warmth of it, the comforting weight, made Daenera feel a semblance of ease for the first time in what felt like ages–this was hers, not something forced upon her. Helaena tied the robe together at the front with delicate precision, the rich velvet flowing over Daenera’s form.

The neckline of her nightgown peeked out from beneath the robe, its soft ivory fabric spilling from the sleeves like a waterfall framed by crimson. It accentuated her curves perfectly. 

“I love it,” she said softly, her voice sincere as she looked at Helaena with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Helaena smiled, her quiet, knowing gaze full of warmth. 

“Come, let’s get your hair down,” Edelin chimed in, stepping forward with gentle hands to urge her towards the dressing table. Daenera gave a small nod and moved gracefully into the seat at the dressing table, settling down so that Edelin could begin the careful task of removing the ornaments from her hair. 

Before Edelin began to dismantle the elaborate hairstyle, she set a glass of wine before Daenera. The dark red liquid swirled within the glass, its rich hue inviting–almost urging her to wash away her memories and apprehensions with each sip. Daenera offered Edelin a smile in thanks, but it was a smile that lacked genuine warmth, failing to reach her eyes. The gesture was polite, mechanically courteous, reflecting the strain of maintaining composure under the weight of the day’s events and the presence that now filled the room, palpable and silent.

One by one, the delicate silver and gold flowers were unpinned and placed neatly on the dark wood of the table before her, glinting faintly in the soft candlelight. The tiara followed, then the silver clamps, each piece placed with care, ready to be tucked away for another day. 

Daenera absently fiddled with one of the delicate silver flowers that had been removed from her hair, her fingers tracing the thin metal petals. The silver was so finely struck that it bent ever so slightly under the pressure of her touch, the intricate curves of the petals cold against her skin–sharp enough to cut were she to draw her finger along its edge. 

As each ornament was carefully removed, she felt the gradual lifting of the mask she had worn throughout the long day, its weight slowly peeling away. It was much like the feeling of a gown pulled too tight for too long–once freed from its confines, it left behind the lingering impression of its shape, red lines etched across her skin as a reminder of the strain it had imposed. It left her feeling raw, her nerves frayed, stretched to their limits.

Helaena joined in the task of undoing Daenera’s hair despite Edelin’s gentle attempts to dissuade her. “It’s not befitting for a queen,” Edelin had murmured, clearly uncomfortable with the sight of Helaena assisting. But Helaena had merely tsked and waved off the concern, her hands already working deftly to free another pin from Daenera’s hair, clearly unfazed by the formality of her title. 

Daenera sat still, her gaze lifting to the mirror above the dressing table. She watched as Helaena and Edelin worked in quiet harmony, carefully undoing the intricate braids and ornaments that had adorned her head for the day. Piece by piece, the elaborate hairstyle began to unravel, her hair falling in dark waves onto her shoulders, heavy and thick. The tight sensation in her scalp, a lingering ache from how tightly the style had been pulled, slowly began to ease with each release. 

She lowered her gaze, her eyes meeting the weary reflection that stared back at her. The firelight cast soft shadows across her face, but it could not hide the vulnerability that lingered in her eyes, a rawness she had fought to keep buried. 

Once her hair had been completely undone, cascading down her back in dark, wavy tresses, Edelin picked up the boar bristle brush and began brushing through it, starting from the trips and working her way up. 

Helaena followed suit, her movements just as gentle. Their hands, soft and unhurried, were far kinder than Mertha’s. There was no tugging, no impatient pulling. 

The soft creak of the door opening echoed faintly throughout the apartments, followed by the muffled sound of quiet footsteps tracing their way through the common room. Daenera didn’t need to turn to know who it was–his presence arrived like a rolling fog, thick and inevitable, creeping through the silence of the chambers. She felt it settle around her before he even appeared, prickling against her skin and sending a shiver of awareness up her spine. Gooseflesh rose along her arms as her posture instinctively straightened.

I really thought we'd get the wedding night this chapter but it got too long, 30K words and I'm not even done with the wedding night, so I decided to break it into another part. Next chapter WILL be the wedding night, and lets just say that its filled with tension, with anger and resentment, with heartbreak and reverence--with love. Will Daenera be a boiling pot of contradictions and irrationality? Yes. She's trying to convince herself of one thing, but know its not that. She doesn't know what to think or how to feel, and it's just a big internal mess. So yeah, expect a lot of irrational actions. And.... also expect a bit of unexpected (lol) romance from Aemond's side.

I hope that next chapter will be out Friday next week! I'm working really hard on it. But that being said, I am struggling a little with writers block.

[mrskurono]

title: babysitting || Kei Tsukishima x MILF!Reader a/n: had this horny thot at the gym <3 word count: 6.7k+ tags: dark content, age gap (18 yr old Tsuki w/ mid 30s reader), no dom/sub dynamics, pervish Tsukishima, non con/accidental voyeurism, masturbation (female & male separate), oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, pining, porn with minor plot, smut w/fluffy ending, edited ish character(s): Kei Tsukishima (hq) synopsis: Third year Kei wanted a cushion of cash when he started college in the fall. But third year Kei really hated the idea of getting a mind numbing job he'd hate every second of. So when Takeda mentions a staff member has a kid needing babysat, well, third year Kei thought how hard could that be. Leading to the graduate doing more than watching a stressed mom's kiddo.

"There's everything for dinner in the fridge. Um, emergency numbers on the counter. Bed by eight and honestly you can do anything else after he goes to sleep. And I'll try to be home quickly. Again, I'm so sorry to be asking this but thank you. I don't know what I'd do without your help."

For the ¥1500 an hour Kei got for feeding dinner to a quiet kid and then putting said quiet kid to bed. It was the best of both worlds for the fresh high school graduate. He'd prepared for the worst when agreeing to watch a kid for Takeda-senpai's coworker after graduation. Lucked out on a sweet boy who seemed to like him more than any of his teammates did. And a working mom who was all but accommodating to him. Kei agreed every time you'd asked if he could babysit.

Leading to Kei being more than comfortable coming to your house anytime you asked. He genuinely kind of liked it. The quiet time. Someone other than Yamaguchi following him around. And a place his mother or older brother wouldn't bother him if all he choose to do was sit and stare at his phone. Your babysitting gig was his own little paradise. One that he got paid by a pretty lady for.

House to himself most of the time, Kei still kept his nose out of most people's business. Yours included. Prying wasn't his mentality with adult affairs. Even if when he reflected on it he was indeed an adult now. Still he didn't try to think much of it after a few weeks of not seeing any family photos in the home. It bugged him though. You were kind, spoke intelligently and smiled a lot. Be it all but enjoyable every time he got to talk to you or you baked him something special as a thank you on top of what you paid him. It made him wonder what happened to the other half of your household. If there ever was one. Not once did he dare ask though. But what little snooping Kei did in the house only turned up nothing.

For some reason this bugged him. Unsure why it did. Were you a widow? Had something tragic happened? Did this sweet kid ever have a second parent to speak of? Each passing weekend Kei got noisier. Perhaps he could help around the house a little more if he knew exactly what it was that kept you as a single woman. After all he was being paid ¥1500 hourly for a job he really didn't have to do anything about. Thoughts like these engulfed him more evenings than not when he was supposed to be babysitting.

Standing in the doorway just out of sight, the adolescent boy let his presence be known with a soft voice, "Tsukishima-san what are you doing?"

Startled a little Kei inadvertently tucked his phone against his leg even though there was no way the kid could see what he was looking at, "Oh- Do you need something? And I told you, Tsukki was fine."

This was the first time the boy hadn't stayed asleep after he was tucked in for the night. Kei was a little surprised and unsure what to do. Though he didn't look distraught. Still he worried he'd get in trouble if you got home and your son wasn't asleep.

Seeming fine he shook his head and rubbed at his eyes clearly tired, "No...I was just wondering when mommy would get home."

Kei sighed with relief. Missing you wasn't too bad he couldn't handle it. He closed his phone so your social media profile wouldn't be glaringly obvious if the kid saw his phone. Getting up to come kneel before his mini friend Kei offered a small smile for comfort, "Same time she does every Saturday night. Your mom will probably be home in about an hour and a half and she won't be very happy with either of us if you're still awake."

Quiet for a second, he then nodded, "Yeah, you're right Tsukki-san. I just wanted to be awake when she was sad again."

"Sad?" This confused him for a second. Kei hadn't seen you without a smile since he first met you. Though he wasn't privy to your personal life, he still felt a little like if you were upset with something he did then any good employer would have told him. Against his morals Kei stopped for a second before asking a little more, "Do you...know why she was sad?"

No surprise his little charge had no insight, "I don't know, I just heard mommy crying the other night after you left. But she stopped I think."

After he left? So it was something he did perhaps? Kei looked at the kid in front of him. Thought of a bunch of questions that he could perhaps ask the kid to try and get more information out of. But as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. Kei knew the poor thing should have been in bed. Not grilled for a million questions he had about the family dynamics. Or you for that matter.

"How about we get you back to bed, and if you mom seems sad when she gets home, well, then I'll take care of it? Does that sound ok?" Kei offered in an attempt to get him back into bed sooner than later.

Clearly weighing the offer. A smart kid, Kei couldn't help but smile at the coy little sucker deciding if his offer was enough. He was at least glad when he agreed that it was acceptable terms. Back to bed in exchange for Kei helping his mom if anything was wrong when you got off work.

Back in bed and sound asleep just as easy as the first time. He was thankful when it still looked like there would be an hour before you got home. Shrinking his duties by letting one kid stay up made Kei feel like he didn't deserve the pay if he couldn't do such a simple thing. But also it gave him a chance to pop up on his phone once more what he was looking at.

A few days ago Kei had been gutsy enough to search high and low for your social media account. Even more guts before he finally sent you a follow request. Arguing with himself that well if his cell service was faulty then he could get a message through to you via social media. Luckily not once had you mentioned it. And only accepted his request without a second thought.

Giving the nosey man a chance to snoop through every post you ever had. Perhaps in an attempt to learn more about the smiling coworker Takeda-senpai introduced him too. Or as Kei scrolled further down your feed he was realizing how his eyes drifted to other places than just your smile. Lost in the scrolling and staring trap, when the door unlatched in the front of the house Kei nearly dropped his phone.

Hasty to clear his recent apps as though he was guilty. Nothing seemed out of place to him when he looked up at you from the couch. Like every time you came in he was greeted with a smile even if it was nearing nine thirty.

"I'm so sorry Tsukishima-kun," You looked more than frazzled even with a smile on your face, "I'm late. I hope things weren't too much of a hassle."

Kei stood up from the couch as you came in. A healthy bit taller than you but what else was to be expected of a volleyball player. He shifted his weight awkwardly on his feet trying to clear the fog of the last hour of staring at photos of you on his phone, "Things were smooth. He was excited for dinner and went to bed fairly easy. It was nothing don't worry L/N-san."

"Y/N," You smile as you put your things away with the blond man watching you, "My son adores you and you have a key to the place, you can just call me Y/N."

Mentally noted Kei had said your first name a million times in his head but not once thought about how it might sound coming off his tongue. Still though he watched with a dull expression as you settled back in your space, "Um, I was wondering-" He stopped when you looked up at him from your purse, "-do you need help with anything else? Cleaning, I can kind of cook if you don't want to prep meals. Um- Anything?"

"Oh?" You were surprised by the offer, "Do you need more cash? I can just give you a little more if that's what you need so you don't have to do more or stay later."

"I can stay later." Kei popped off right away.

"I'm sure you're family would like to-"

"My brother's home on summer break. My mom has plenty of help when he's home."

Your smile returned and Kei couldn't help the slight tightness in his chest when it was directed at him, "Your mom's lucky to have two sweet boys to help her." Awkwardly taking the compliment Kei didn't really have the right words to retort but was comforted when you spoke up again, "If you really don't mind helping though, I'll give you an extra two hours pay if you wouldn't mind helping prep some things for tomorrow morning. It was...a long day."

Without hesitation Kei agreed. Not even concerned what it was you might ask for help with. Second guessing himself that it might not be something he could do. Kei was relieved when you really only asked for him to wash and peel a bunch of vegetables so they were prepped for the following morning. Ones for a stew you'd made a few times before that he had to admit was one of your favorite dishes. Diligently Kei went about washing them when he noticed you were going to roll up your sleeves and help.

"I can get these done." He had no idea why he was offering something so mundane, "I prep for my mother all the time."

"Are you sure?" Clear on your face you weren't use to such an offer.

Kei nodded, "They're just vegetables."

"Thank you." You sighed with a little bow, "Thank you so much. If you don't mind, I need to shower. Your pay is on my wallet when you finish. I really appreciate it."

He nodded once more. Feeling an oddity for the praise as the tips of his ears heated up. Kei knew you had a second job as a server which he did not envy. But nice things too nice amounts of money so he didn't fault you for wanting to wash up after a second day. He obliged and said he'd get things cleaned up before he left. Once more feeling the tightness in his chest when nothing but praise left your lips and that big smile.

Certainly not two hours worth of more work. Kei finished washing and placing things back before it seemed you were even out of the washroom. Fine with him, he still couldn't take the extra ¥1500 so he figured he'd take that out of whatever you left him on your belongings.

Fairly use to your places layout, he knew your purse should be on the table as you walk in. To his surprise though he didn't see it. Actually he didn't see your shoes either. You must have accidentally brought them into the bedroom with you. Which meant that was probably where your purse and his pay was.

A room he'd been in before Kei weighed just waiting to get his compensation. Though a thorn in his side as he had planned to pick a few things up tomorrow. Just going in and snagging the money and he'd be out in no time.

Careful not to make a noise he saw your purse exactly where he'd suspected you'd leave it. On the corner of the bed with your shoes and other things. Among them were the dirty clothes clearly peeled off of you set neatly on the bed. Not one to dig through laundry Kei took a steady breath and just told himself you'd probably pick them up later after your bath so he shouldn't even look at them.

Looking wasn't the problem. What he heard was something entirely different.

Something of a muffled gasp. Kei didn't even take his payment without jumping a little at the sound. Head whipping around to the noise. When it came again before he registered the first one. He felt his entire body go flush.

"S-Shit-"

A moan. Your moan.

Kei suddenly felt his heart in his throat. And an unfamiliar twinge below. All but frozen he stood there before he realized the door was partially open. Not really open, a crack perhaps. Enough so that a pool of light came out and if he stepped closer he could...

No! He needed to respect your boundaries and pretend he heard nothing. Nothing of the lewd noise coming from the bathroom. Knowing that your face would be painted in a different expression than just a smile. Perhaps on in the throws of pleasure. Something he'd thought about but didn't entertain the idea. Kei felt his mind picking up speed just as his heartbeat did.

He should leave. He should turn around and leave. He should leave and act like this didn't happen. He shouldn't be edging closer to the door. He shouldn't be holding his breath as he leaned into the sliver of light just to see the cause of your noises.

He shouldn't. But he did.

Immediately he felt his cock twitch in his pants. The sight of you. Legs spread on either side of the soaking tub. Shower head clearly not in it's holder. Kei felt his heart racing as both your hands were under the water as well as the shower head. A clear beautiful picture of what was happening.

"F-Fuck- Mmm-"

Enchanted to watch you raise one hand to your lips. Fingers passing your lips as Kei watched you suck the water off them earnestly. Not hiding the fact you wished it was something else. Doing so to clearly muffle your moans. It didn't matter though as he saw everything first hand. In no time there was no way Kei could keep his trembling hands still.

Finding his palm pressed against the crotch of his pants. He knew what he was doing. With the crack of the door hiding his entire frame behind the rest of it. Kei didn't try to stop himself. Better yet, he didn't even think to stop himself.

Fumbling with his zipper like it was the first time he'd ever undone his slacks. Kei cursed himself for the second he had to take his eyes off you. Frantic like he'd miss anything. The second his long fingers curled around his cock though it took no time at all for his golden eyes to soak up the scene before him.

Strokes with no rhyme or reason. He could already feel the tightness in his stomach just the second his thumb swiped over his slit. Drooling precum that he only smeared back onto his cock as Kei focused around his swollen tip in an attempt to keep from cumming too quickly. The man leaned into the door frame with a catch in his breath.

Your eyes were closed. Head tipped back against the lip of the tub. Fingers no longer in your mouth. Instead groping at your own breast. Twisting and tugging on your nipple as your body shifted in the water. Kei wanted more than anything to see that shower head between your legs. Knowing the sweetness that must have been your poor oversensitive clit being treated so well with the massage setting of the shower head. Knowing your legs were spread and trembling with the vibration of water against you. Sparing the thought his tongue could do so much more. And when that thought crossed his mind. His blond head between your legs instead of the shower head-

"S-Shit! Kei-"

His name. Static swallowed him up. The buck in his hips as Kei clasped his hand over his own mouth. Biting down on the meat of his thumb just to muffle his moans as his body twitched. Warmth gushing into his hand there wasn't even a chance for the young man to register anything but the wave of pleasure as his cum dripped through his fingers. Suddenly light headed it took a second for him to register your call to his name meant. His high cumming in time with your own when he saw you shudder in the bath tub.

A huge sigh leaving you. Kei looked down to see the streaks of cum dripping off his fingers and the puddle he'd left on the ground. Suddenly aware of what just happened. He couldn't scuff the mark on your carpet fast enough as he tried to regain his composure. In the panicked dash to not get caught, Kei left without his pay completely. Dry cum sticky on his hand and the thud in his chest as his body still ached after that knee buckling orgasm. All he could think about was one thing.

His name. He heard his name from your lips.

Replayed about five hundred more times in his head. No amount of banishing the thought or simply trying to force it to runs its course made the plaguing thought stop. The way you twitched and came in the tub calling his name in a muffled moan. Kei was flush with the image constantly. In an attempt to get rid of it he thought simply going home and jerking off again would help.

It didn't.

Once more. Twice more. Until he just had nothing left in him. Kei was stuck that night thinking of nothing but you even when he couldn't squeeze even a drop out of himself. Unsure he'd ever masturbated this much. He was even more unsure what to do when there was nothing he could but think about you in every compromising thought he'd ever had these past few weeks. Now with the knew knowledge of what you might look and sound like if they were to ever happen.

To happen? What was he even thinking? He would be lucky if you hadn't found the mess he left and never wanted to see him again. Accuse him of spying like some hard up perv. A four eyed freak. Suddenly Kei was worried about the trouble he might get into but even more worried that he might never see you again. All for a brief immature impulse he could have controlled if he really wanted to.

Then a simple text.

'You left your pay! I'm so sorry I didn't leave it out!'

You hadn't noticed then?

Kei spent a good four hours sitting on that text. Overthinking. Over analyzing. Feeling like a fool until he succumbed to the thought perhaps you just genuinely hadn't noticed. And if you hadn't noticed, then he was in the clear.

Your text was easily remedied. After profound apologies on your end. One's Kei just tried to play off as nothing. A solution was met with the fact that you needed to have him come watch your son at the beginning of the week. Pay for the missed day plus, the one you needed a babysitter for and extra as an apology for stiffing him the last time. Everything seemed normal. Kei could bury this down and pretend it didn't happen if you never noticed.

Like every other time he'd come to watch your son. Nothing seemed to change. You still smiled. Told them what was already prepped for him. How your son was doing that day and of course when you'd be back. Simple enough. Kei was quiet but you didn't seem to notice. Not like he wanted you to notice but something stuck in his craw as he watched your face with extra attention to detail. The image of you in the bath still etched in his head.

Thankfully when you left though things seemed normal.

Routine as all the other times had been. Kei sat at the table on his phone as his little charge colored quietly.

"....Tsukki-san, do you like my mom?" The question swooped onto him without warning. He nearly dropped his phone on the table to see the kid hadn't even looked up from his drawing with such a question.

"What? Why would you ask that?" Kei choked on his words a little harder than he meant to. An accident if they came out harsh but he struggled to clamor for a calm before his face lite up.

A little bit of a shrug from the kid who only kept shading his drawing, "I don't know....mommy smiles a lot when you're around and you listen nicely to her. My teacher said you listen to people important to you. So I figured mommy was important to you.

"Well, she pays me." He rubbed the back of his neck trying to chalk this up to kids being kids, "It would be rude to not listen."

"Mommy's boss doesn't listen to her."

"The Principle?" He was a little surprised considering the patient he and his team mates had been gifted for three whole years from the Karasuno principle.

"No." He shook his head and picked up a different colored pencil, "The food and drink boss. I think that's one of the reasons she cries."

So your other job sucked. Not surprised. And definitely a reason to come home after a shitty day and relax as such. He might have ruined a poor working woman's only way of unwinding. Still though Kei dwelled on the fact his name from your lips never once left his thoughts.

"...does your mom talk about me?"

The kid looked up from his artwork with a deadpan look. One Kei almost immediately regretted the question that came out of his mouth. If he could take it back he would. Before that though the kiddo opened his mouth, "She likes you. She says nice things about you when I tell her about our day together."

Close to the way his chest tightened when he heard you moan his name. There wasn't a lot more he wanted to hear. Even though he was feeling particularly chatty for the stoic man. Kei clung to the idea the rest of the day that you talked about him. Maybe it was just to your own kid who liked him. But still it made his heart race thinking you spared him more than one thought.

Engulfed in his thoughts all day. By the time the kid was yawning after dinner Kei didn't realize it was an hour before normal bed time. Offering him an earlier bed time. Kei was surprised hear him take the offer. Easy enough he thought. Meaning he'd have two hours of quiet before you would come in.

Tucked in. House picked up. Kei tried to guess if there was something to be prepped for the following days meal. But as he stared at the more than empty fridge he was startled when the front door clicked.

Quickly stealing a glance at the clock above the sink. He realized you were home over an hour early. About to walk around the divider wall and ask if you needed any help. Kei froze in his steps when he heard a sniffle. Startled Kei carefully came around the wall to see you wiping at your face still fully dressed and purse clutched to your chest.

"...are you ok L/N-san?" Kei's quiet question didn't go unnoticed.

Jumping at the suddenness. You clearly tried to gather yourself in front of him, "Oh! I'm sorry I didn't text or call I'd be early! I'm so sorry did I interrupt bath time I-"

"No no, he's already in bed," Kei's usual facade dipped into a frown as his blond brows pinched together, "Um, I'm sorry if this is too forward but...do you need some help?"

"This?" You laugh a little defeat with a shrug, "No it's fine I'm sorry. Here I'm sure you wanna get going let me get your pay and-"

He immediately shut down the shuffling you were doing in your purse, "I can stay." A clear deer in the headlights look. Your hand stays stuffed in your purse for a second as Kei awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, "I'd be here another hour anyways. I can stay."

For as blotchy as your eyes looked. He felt that familiar flutter in his chest when your lips curled into a soft smile. One that only looked so much sweeter when you wiped the remnants of tears from your eyes and smiled at him, "That's very sweet of you."

Once more with the subtle praise Kei didn't understand the way his skin prickled and heart picked up it's pace. Looking at you smiling though suddenly he realized he didn't want to leave at all. An hour or not. He wanted to stay regardless of the pay.

Kindly you'd offered him a drink. Well aware of the things you had in your home Kei didn't really want anything but tea when you offered a plethora of drinks more geared to kids than adults. Tea it was though when you both sat down on the couch. A huge sigh leaving you and Kei feeling stiffer than he normally would. Unable to untrain his eyes from watching every movement you made.

"How was he today?"

Caught off guard Kei blinked a few times until he realized you meant your son, "Good. He was good. We went to the park to swing and he ran into some of his friends. I think that's why he was extra tired today."

"That's good." You smile softly with the lip of your mug against your lips, "...I know I say this a lot but thank you. My son really enjoys the days you come over."

"He's a good kid," Kei rubbed his thumb over his mug unable to take a drink yet. Knots in his stomach terrorizing as all he could think about was the few inches between him and you on the couch.

About ready to say something else. Kei opened his mouth just to be stuffed by the surprise of your sniffling. Panicked to see you wiping at your eyes but still smiling. He quickly tried to take the cup from your hands as you laughed through the tears.

"Heh- I'm glad. I'm glad he's so well-" It's obvious you can't stop them from coming, "I miss him. I miss him so much. Making ends meet all these years. I miss being home. With him- God you must think I'm a mess I'm so sorry let me-"

"No." His firmness in his voice catches you off guard. Kei swallows the lump in his throat when you look over at him. Something about your red eyes and dewy lashes becoming the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. You stare at him stunned for as long as it takes he can't think of anything else. Until finally it's too much.

Static in the room as everything stands still in the second his lips meet yours. Warm from the tea you sipped before hand. His own palms warm from holding the mug when he slips them against the tops of your hand. With his heart beating in his throat. The way Kei presses into the kiss lasts a million years while also being done in the blink of an eye.

Pulled away only when he realizes you didn' reject him. A swath of emotions all go like static in his head as Kei stares at you now closer to him on the couch. Unmoving even after the kiss. The seconds drifting between each last longer than the sudden kiss it seems.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have-"

Met with your warm palms flush against the sides of his neck. Kei is pulled down into another kiss. One that's deeper than what he spared you. Under no complaints though he urges his body into the kiss when his hands quickly come up to cup your cheeks in his palms. Meeting your lips with all the excitement that had been building in him since that first day you smiled at him.

Broken for breath, Kei doesn't let it end. Peppering your lips with kisses even as they miss their mark a few times and end up on the corner of your lips and on the bow of your lips, "I- I wanna stay-"

Terrified of what you're words might be. Kei wasn't a gambling man. Or a nosey man. Or even a gutsy man. He didn't want to know your answer to his heat of the moment question.

"Stay-" Your breath against his lips as your eyes fluttered shut just as your forehead pressed to his, "Please- Stay."

A gamble paid off. Emotions still clouded in static all he cared about was kissing you more.

Pecks and peppers turning to lips parted and moans exchanged. It wasn't until his hands found their way up the hem of your shirt did it hit you.

"Not here-" You kissed him frantically like your lips would fall off if you didn't, "Bedroom-Please-"

Fine with him. The couch too small for all his limbs anyway. Unable to keep your bodies apart as Kei hastily tried to pull your shirt off with shaky hands. You doing the same as your hands pushed up his shirt. You both crashed down on your bed in nothing but your underwear before you knew it. Sure there was a trail of clothes. None of that mattered.

"Are you sure?" Baited breath as you looked up at the blond man above you, "I don't want you to think you have to I-"

"I've wanted to since the day we talked." Kei mumbled into your neck. Lips dancing over the sensitive part of your jawline, "I saw you- I just- I need you."

"Kei." Just like the other night when his name rolled off your lips it sent him into a frenzied state. Every which way he could think of having you. And suddenly he was having you.

Kisses moving down your collar bone. Following the strap of your bra. Kei felt his heart threatening to erupt from his chest. Not his first time. It was certain his first time being this intoxicated by his partner. When he hesitated above your bra Kei licked his lips impulsively when you tugged down your bra.

Breasts spilling over the top of your worn bra. Didn't matter to him what you were in as he looked at the stretch marks across the tops of your breasts and how soft they looked. Just as wonderful as they'd looked in the bath. His mouth watered until he couldn't stand it anymore.

Latching himself to the same breast he saw you playing with. His guess was right. A loud moan coming from your lips as his tongue danced around the hardening bud. Big middle blocker hand coming up to grope them both as his mouth could only pay attention to one at a time.

Buried in his work. Kei couldn't help the moan against your soft mounds as your leg came up to rub against his crotch. Clothed cock leaking into his boxer briefs. Your moans encouraging him to rub against your thigh as he couldn't tear himself away from your tits. Delighted to just have your breasts in his face. Kei didn't find it fair to not offer you a bit more.

Hand drifting down your soft stomach. It was the hitch in his breathing when his fingers grazed over the wetness of your panties. Pressing his fingers against the wettest part of them as he looked up at your with half lidded golden eyes. Seeing your reaction to the grinding of his fingers against your clothed cunt meant he needed more.

Kissing down your breasts. Each stretch mark and soft supple inch of skin. The broad shouldered man finally made it between your legs. All but a mess of blond waves as he kissed all over your thighs and ghosted his lips over the crotch of your panties.

"K-Kei-" You moaned, fists clenching the bedding under you as your body felt like it was on fire.

He needed no other go ahead. Long fingers peeling your panties down to reveal what he'd dreamt about since he saw you in the bath.

Cunt lips soaked and plump. Your poor swollen bud peaking out from your wetness. Kei licked his lips never having wanted to tasted something so bad in his life. And taste is exactly what he did.

Tongue diving between your folds. His tasting was relentless. Kei lapped at your core. Finding the most enjoyment as his tongue swirled around your clit. Harder with each passing second against his tongue. It was when your hands found his hair that he felt like everything was perfect.

Your fingers tight in his curls. Hips shuddering under him. A delicate touch peeling away your cunt lips so he could his undivided attention to your clit. Kei found himself lost with your juices coating his face before your moans choked in your throat.

"I- I can't! Kei- Kei I'm cumming!" Body shuddering and his tongue not stopping. He kept you pinned under him as you rode out orgasm on his tongue. Each buck and thrust of your hip only met with the fact Kei wouldn't let up on bringing you to nothing short of nirvana.

With the thump in your pussy. Feeling the waves of pleasure still washing over you. When his lips finally left your core and you saw with half lidded eyes how wet his face was and his poor cock straining against his briefs. You quickly try to offer going down on him in return.

"Please....I saw you in the bath the other night," Kei confessed from above you, "Please let me-"

"Fuck me." You beat him to it, "Absolutely fuck me Kei."

A throb to his cock. Fearing he might cum the second he touched you. Still he couldn't pass this up.

Pulling himself free of the confines of his underwear. Squeezing the base of his cock as he lingered above you. Precum dripped and drool onto your thigh. Immediately you spread your legs in the most inviting way possible. Even if he wanted to say no, there was nothing he could do to stop himself.

Swiping his cock head against your soaked lips. Electricity shoots through his body. Kei can feel how heavy his balls are. Nothing driving him more than the idea of fucking you full. Realizing now it's what he's wanted since the day he met you.

More than wet enough, Kei sinks himself into your cunt with a guttural sigh leaving him. Warm walls clenching and fluttering around him. Once he feels your plush lips swallow him all the way to the base. It's when he has to plant his arms on either side of you just to catch his breath.

You clearly had other ideas though. When he took in a steady breath is at the same moment you start moving your hips. Willingly fucking yourself on his cock as Kei stares down at you under him. There's nothing he can think to say. As you work yourself on him and moan under him. He's certain he could loose it just like this. But the desire to thrust into you is simply too much.

Laying most of his weight down onto you. Inadvertently scooping your hips up and pushing deeper inside you. Kei feels like he's going to melt as the curve of his cock certain kisses the back of your cervix. Breath ragged and forehead already dewy with sweat. His thrusts start slow until your lewd moans are too much to ignore.

"Kiss me- Kei kiss me-" Not needing to be told twice. His lips crash onto yours. Letting his thrusts get a little sloppy but neither of you seem to mind.

Tightness around his length just as each thrust feels like it might be his last. Kei gives up on being propped on his arms. Instead curling them around you as tight as he can as the man desperately thrusts into you. A first time for everything, he can't believe the little moans that leave his own lips as his high comes closer and closer to crashing down on him.

"In me-"

"W-What-"

"In me! God fuck cum in me please-" You hips buck up best they can in this position. Finally leading to you just wrapping your legs around his waist and letting Kei fuck you at his own pace, "Please Kei- Fill me up-"

Swallowed up in the moment. Asked for his cum. Cunt swallowing him up and mind going fuzzy as his kisses turn sloppy. Kei can't keep it together anymore.

"S-Shit- y-y/n-" Groan leaving him in the seconds his hips stall out. The tall man ruts his hips into yours hard one last time as his high reaches an unreturnable point.

Swallowed up in his own pleasure. Shared with you as the warmth of his cum floods your aching walls. Even dripping down between your ass cheeks. It's in one big sigh that the both of you relax. But don't move from your embrace.

Kei's face still buried in your neck. As his cock still sunk deep in you with the cum he left you just like you asked. You exhale contentedly under him as your grip on his shoulders loosen. Instead ending up with fingers in the curls at the base of his neck as the two of you both catch your breath in the post glow warmth of your shared intimacy.

"...I could come more often, to help," Kei quickly clarified his mumble into your neck. The man stiffening a little bit above you but refusing to let go, "And maybe...you don't have to pay me so you know...you could quit that second job."

"Kei-" You voice rolls off his tongue in the same way he loves hearing it.

Something about it though he can't bring himself to let you go. Afraid of the look you might give him or answer. Inadvertently he hugs you tighter as his face stays tucked in your neck.

"Don't say it's because I feel bad or anything." He swallowed hard on the lump in his throat, but bit the bullet and lifted his head from your neck to look at you under him, "I want to. I want to be...around you more...both of you."

A quiver to your bottom lip. Eyes searching his face for a trace of doubt. Until finally your gaze falls on his golden eyes fixated on you. That tremble to your lip disappears when he doesn't waiver. Replaced with a big smile and a little giggle, "We'd both like that very much."

Nuzzling your nose against his. Kei steals another kiss. Unbelievably so feeling his lips curl into a smile against your own. Fingers tracing small circles against his neck as the kiss fades, Kei reburies his face in your neck and hugs you tight under him.

"Your son?" Kei mumbles worried about the one thing that might be an issue.

You giggle and lean your head against the side of his as you hug him tight against you even as none of you make a single motion to move away. Realizing this might be the first night in months that you don't cry yourself to sleep amidst the rest of everything else. You kiss the side of Kei's head and feel him do the same with a kiss on your shoulder, " Don't worry. He's always wanted to have breakfast with you."

Something about that made the tall man laugh and he had to add, "And you?"

You shut your eyes instead of staring at the ceiling. Just enjoying the warmth as the two of you lay together as Kei continues to pepper your shoulder his kisses, "I'll have a cup of coffee."

"How about a cup of coffee and a kiss?" Kei lifts his head to look at you.

That same smile spread of your lips and Kei fights everything in him not to kiss you right then and there, "Yeah. A kiss and coffee sounds perfect."

[encantoheadcanons]

The triplets all looked after the kids in turn.

Isabela

She is the oldest of the Madrigal kids so she was fussed over by the whole family. Julieta would constantly worry sick about her daughter but she would always trust her siblings. Pepa, pregnant with Dolores, would hold baby Isa and they would both be very calm. Needless to say, in those moments there would be a rainbow over the Casita. Bruno was overjoyed to have a little niece but was scared of hurting her but Julieta assured him he wouldn't. Even without a vision, he always knew she would be beautiful both inside and out. When she was only about six, she asked him for a vision. Of course Bruno was scared because of the many bad visions he's had. This one, however, showed Isa laughing and growing cacti and swinging from vines. He told her that her powers would grow and that she would be happy

Dolores

Julieta, although preoccupied with a baby Isabela, would often check up on her sister and if Pepa ever needed a break, would take both girls with her. This made the girls be very close as toddlers. Bruno was the first one to empathise with Dolores after she got her gift, so would spend more time with her while everyone else marvelled at Isabela's gift. Unfortunately, he did scare her when she asked him for a vision and he saw that she would be heartbroken. Little Dolores started sobbing and ran to Pepa, who in turn got angry at her brother for telling her daughter such things.

Luisa

Pepa would often be entertained by little Luisa and would often tell her fairytales and made up stories of unidonkeys which would make her make rainbows. Luisa absolutely loved them and loved the unidonkeys. Bruno would take Luisa out for donkey rides around the town. He enjoyed the time alone with his niece as she was the only one who wasn't too bothered about prophecies.

Camilo

The first son of the new generation of Madrigals, Camilo was very much a favourite for a short while. When he was a baby, Julieta would do the same as what Pepa did with Isabela as she was pregnant with Mirabel. She would often cradle baby Camilo in the kitchen. Pepa blames his love of food on this. Truth is, Camilo would always be seen in the kitchen helping his Tía out, especially as he knew he got to try the food first! Bruno, much more removed from the family now, would often entertain Camilo with impressions and putting on characters which would make Camilo laugh uncontrollably.

Mirabel

Mirabel was always kept protected and safe by Julieta, much like she did her other daughters but this time she was more reserved towards Bruno. Pepa would often babysit Mirabel and Camilo as those two would get up to no good. This stressed her out quite a lot so Mirabel saw a lot of weather changes which made her giggle. This would immediately put a smile (and some sunshine) on Pepa's face. Bruno would look after Mirabel when everyone else was busy and Camilo was causing mischief and bonding with his older sister. Bruno always saw Mirabel's big heart and he loved looking after her. Much like Luisa when she was younger, Mirabel didn't judge Bruno or see him differently despite the rest of the family growing distant towards him. She would confide in her Tío when she was feeling sad or worried, especially before her gift ceremony (she was scared of all the people that would be there, remembering when Camilo had his ceremony a couple of months prior). When Bruno left, she was very upset and confused (much like the rest of the family) but as noone talked about him since, she lost a lot of the memories to do with her Tío.

Antonio

Antonio is the baby of the family and was always showered with love from his siblings and cousins and all the attention was always on him as a baby and toddler. Julieta would also often cook with him as all of the older kids would go about their tasks and using their gifts to help everyone around. Bruno watched this close bond and wished he could spend time with the nephew he never properly met. He sometimes sent a rat or two of his through to the kitchen to tease and scare his sister and to feel like he was a part of something in a way. Julieta was always frustrated about the rats, wondering where on earth they're coming from whereas little Antonio would point at the rats and smile. This was the first sign Antonio was really interested in animals and it was all thanks to his Tío but noone would ever know

[cagenewman]

"It makes sense," he assured her with a smile, looking over her way as he was driving. "Rosalyn's growing like a weed, and Colton's pouting about the fact that his mustache isn't coming in yet. I keep having to remind him that it's a good thing, not having to shave all the time." Thoughtfully, he lifted his hand to his own chin, rubbing calloused fingertips against the stubble that he, admittedly, didn't bother shaving near as much now that he was happily married, confident in his own skin. "He is getting taller, though," he admitted, half of a lament as he thought about the fact that his son wouldn't be shorter than him much longer; the kid was all leg, muscular from working out now, sure, but tall and lanky. When he recognized the surprise on her face, he let out a soft laugh, nodding his head, "they've been helping me a lot these past few days, wanted to do something special for you to show it off, so… you'll see." Admittedly, Cage was pretty excited. How often did you get the chance to bring your wife home to… well, home? To tell her that they could finally live in the house that they had purchased and worked so hard on. "You could never forget how to cook," Cage laughed, "that's like me forgetting how to use a saw. It comes natural to you." Along with about a hundred million other things, too.

"Oh, a pretty girl can love school," he corrected, raising both brows, "I very much so was in love with a pretty girl who loved school. It's just that most of them graduate school and then just stay pretty girls." The thought brought a small smile to his face, then, as he turned to look more fully at her. "Kinda makes me be even more in love with my pretty girl, though." Just knowing that she was willing and able to go after her dreams, or maybe create a whole new dream for herself, it was admirable, and knowing that he could do whatever it took to help her out with that, well, he wasn't going to hesitate. Not for a second. "We," he agreed with her, a soft laugh leaving his lips as he reached for her hand, taking it in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I told you, your future is our future, so if this is something you want, you have my support. Whether that means taking up a different job, taking time off to focus on school, baking cookies and having brother-sister time with Kellan at the market," he laughed a bit, but knew that it would be something she would be good at, too, "which actually isn't a bad idea. Maybe you could even talk to other people at the market, see if they would have any odd, local jobs that you could do a few days a week, couple of afternoons here and there?"

"But," he stressed, bringing her hand up to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles, "we don't have to decide today, right? We can talk about it -- all of it. But you don't have to worry about our marriage or the kids, I'm pretty sure that I'm going to stick around, and the kids kind of sort of love you a little bit," he made a soft sound with his tongue, shaking his head, "guess you sort of lucked out, there. Marriage -- well, wedding, we should probably work on," as much as he liked being married, he knew that eventually it would come out, that one of them would slip, someone would stumble upon paperwork or the questions would start up, and the babies, well, they'd cross that bridge once everything else was figured out, he knew; he wanted to give Cordelia everything that she wanted, but he also wanted a steady, happy home environment before they even thought of adding any more little feet to the family. Human feet, anyway, but that -- well, that'd be yet another bridge. "You know what, though?" he shook his head, dropping her hand to switch on the radio, finding the old country classics station that he always listened to when they made it to a red light and reached across the truck to touch her cheek, pulling her in closer to kiss her on the lips, lingering there for a long while. When he pulled back, his voice was low, rumbly, and a small smile tugged at his lips. "I'm just happy to be going home with you."

"Feel like at this age at least leaving Rosalyn is so hard she's getting so big. Not that Colton isn't but he stays more... consistent... if that makes any sense?" she tilted her head. When he said pass on dinner that Colton had something planned actually she had to admit she was a little surprised. "Wow, really a surprise for me? Don't I feel all special now. Maybe I should go away more often." Really it was a tease, she didn't mind cooking for her family, she loved it, it was a part she loved getting to have that bonding part with them. "And I'm happy to resume cooking tomorrow, don't worry. Honestly after living off of hotel meals, room service, and take out -- I could use some good home cooking of mine again. Better hope I haven't forgotten how to cook." As if that could ever happen.

A laugh left her lips, "What? A pretty girl can't love school? That's being stereotypical Cage." she teased, "Plus I always loved school." While she might have been the all-American cheerleader loving on the football star, she had been top in academics, part of multiple school clubs and school government. It shouldn't have been a surprise that she would have loved her time at this course she had been able to land a spot in. Really it was more surprising to her that she had been picked, Cage would probably say he wasn't surprised if she said that she was, but truly, she was. Yes her grades were top, but it wasn't like she was the young up and coming hot shot, she was in her now late thirties mom re-inventing herself. "You know.. I'm doing pretty good." Trying to be causal but the beaming smile on her face gave away everything that he was right about being at the top of her class, or at least one of them.

The squeeze of his hand on her thigh made her relax some, "Yeah, well I think I'd like to really think about it. I know we're financially well off, or well you are -- or we are." It was still weird the whole his money was their money thing now. It still didn't compute and often made her slightly uncomfortable to reason with. "I don't want you to just be holding down the fort though, I want to talk to you about some options. I don't want to work my life away, do school the rest of it, and miss out on marriage, our kids, babies..." Something she very much still wanted on the table for them. "So I've been trying to think of some other options for us. "I could take a part-time job and leave the school, do the school hours in between which would keep me kind of where I am now. I could stop working, do a little baking on the side and sell at the farmers market on the weekend while going to school during the week to have time with the family..." Rambling off ideas. "There's just a lot of moving parts...to think about."

[guaxinimraccoon]

If there were borrowers in the house where Brad was raised, it must have been quite a sight to see giant scary humans carefully, gently and diligently caring for a tiny baby.

omg I loved this scenario, I've never thought about this possibility before

Canonically, FOR NOW, there weren't any borrowers living in Alex's parents house, but let's give this a headcanon try because it deserves it!

It wasn't only quite a sight, but also a VERY scary and unsettling sight. The borrowers were TERRIFIED to see gigantic humans taking care of a tiny lil baby "imp" and they were, on top of it all, afraid for the kid. He seemed to be save for now but for them it was a matter of time until one of those humans slip their hand a little and doom an innocent baby. For what they best know, they could be raising him to be a pet!

The borrower girl wanted to save Brad and take him with them to raise him properly, but her brother wasn't excited to risk their lives trying to "kidnap" him.

After some arguing and observation, they decided to get into Brad's cradle at night and "rescue" him. They weren't worried about making him cry bc the humans in the house would hardly listen to a tiny baby crying from other rooms in the house.

But let's say technology saved our baby Brad...

How else do you think Alex would act when hearing the soft cry of his baby boy through the baby monitor?

Alex was PISSED at the first seconds, just like a mother duck wanting to keep her babies safe, but he soon calmed himself down to best deal with the situation.

The borrowers freaked out, the girl went for being paralyzed in her place in fear while her brother yelled at her to leave the baby there and FUCKING RUN THERE IS A GIANT HUMAN STARING AT US.

For his turn, Alex didn't say or do anything. After spending so much time with other imps and dating a borrower itself, he quickly understood what was going on. These imps probably saw him with Brad through the walls and thought he was in danger, it was just a misunderstanding.

But Alex also wasn't in the mood for talking and explaining, not only because he was tired of dealing with fear, but also because he knew they wouldn't listening, it wasn't worth the stress. So he simply stood there and waited for them to leave, knowing his presence alone was enough warning. He'd take further action if they tried to run away with his son (which he thanked to the heavens it wasn't necessary).

The girl eventually snapped, left Brad in the cradle and started to run to hide from the towering human above them, following her brother. She couldn't help but be surprised though, the baby seemed so happy when he saw the human and was waving his arms at him, as if he wanted to be held by that giant figure, way bigger to him than to them.

They had to leave the house because they were seen, but I bet the incident never left their minds.

Maybe humans and imps could have family bonds afterall!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

Can you do some imagines showing us how each kid reacted when their parents brought their new sibling home. Them seeing them and “holding” them for the first time

pairing: steve kemp x dark!reader

warnings: 18+ topics (under 18 year olds do NOT interact/reader)

part of toxic

Daisy meeting Rose

Steve held his daughter's hand as she skipped through the hospital halls. Both him and Y/N had been worried at how Daisy was going to react to having a new sister. It hadn't been a nice start when she started to cry as Y/N had to leave to give birth, so both were rather worried about it. Steve had even gotten her a new doll, saying the baby got it for her which as a two year old she bought it. Hopefully she wouldn't dislike her sister.

He opened the hospital room door and once the two year old saw her mother, she immediately ran over to the bed, attempting to climb on to hug her.

- Mummy! - she wrapped her arms around her mum.

- Hi, Daisy love. - she kissed the top of her head. - Are you excited to meet your baby sister?

- Where's the baby?

Steve picked Rose up from the little plastic crib where she had been napping for the past hour to bring her over to Daisy. He lightly leaned down to be at the height of the bed, moving slightly so Daisy could look at her sister wrapped in a yellow ducky blanket which she had picked up. Y/N moved to hold Rose, slightly putting her over Daisy's lap and helping her hold her sister.

- This is Rose. - Y/N spoke softly. - She's your little sister.

Daisy and Rose meet the triplets

Steve helped Y/N out of the car, both happy that they were no longer stuck in the hospital and could bring their three girls home. Although, she did have to say it was stick rather enjoyable watch Steve attempt to carry three baby carriers. She took the lightest one, moving to open the door and once she did, the two girls immediately came running, wrapping their arms around her legs.

- Girls, careful with mummy. - Steve came up from behind Y/N. - Where's Jonathan?

- We're playing hide and seek.

- Is Uncle Johnny hiding? - Y/N set the carrier on the ground.

- No, we locked him in the pantry. - Daisy spoke out before looking at the carrier on the ground.

Y/N sighed, playfully rolling her eyes at her daughter's before going to free her brother while Steve placed the other two carriers on the ground. He leaned down to his daughters height, his face probably the picture of pure devotion as she was surrounded by the five most important girls in his life.

- Did they get us gifts? - Rose asked her dad who attempted not to laugh at her dad's eagerness. - Did they?

- Sure.

- They're so cute, daddy. - Daisy hugged her dad.

- This is Ivy, Cornelia and Lily.

Daisy, Rose, the triplets meet William

Walking around with five girls had to be both the most adorable yet stressful experience of his life. The problem? All of them could run which what almost all of them were doing. The triplets were five and ran pretty much everywhere if one decided to do so, Rose wanted to find her mum as per usual while Daisy, his little Daisy, was 9 years old and was mainly walking next to her father. Hopefully his son wouldn't have the same proclivity to running as his daughters. They all entered the hospital room where Y/N was holding William.

- Mummy, I can count to 50. - Ivy rushed over to the bed. - Lily and Cornelia can't!

- Can too! - Lily crossed her arms.

- Girls, mummy is tired. - Steve gathered the triplets while Daisy and Rose went over to see the baby. - Remember what we discussed? We need to help mummy with the new baby.

Y/N smiled at Daisy who took to handling the baby as the eldest daughter, showing him to Rose. She had to admit, having a boy would definitely shake things up. Perhaps Steve wouldn't be covered in glitter and tutus as much as he has been these past nine years. Yet again, if that's what William wants to do then she'll definitely allow it.

- This is William. - she caressed his chubby cheek. - He's your baby brother.