#logic is muddy

[ahb-writes]

Writing Problem: The Character Logic Is Muddy

Problem: The Character Logic Is Muddy

Solution: Investing in realistic characterization will give a novel the curious details and sense of familiarity readers will readily absorb. Good character logic means providing original characters with the agency to speak, act, and react with authority. (It also doesn't hurt to have a character or two who are really good at faking it.) But it's not enough to simply imply a character's sense of self through dialogue and action. Writers should aim for a level deeper.

Don't write characters, write character arcs. Don't write character flaws, write character flaws that make characters curious, enticing, or attractive. Craft inimitable dialogue, encourage characters to engage their environment, and remember to hold characters responsible for their actions.

Writing Resources:

3 Redemptive Character Types (September C. Fawkes)

6 Ways to Write Truly Terrifying Villains (The Novel Smithy)

What Is Pathos in Literature? A Complete Guide (Jericho Writers)

Character Motivation Thesaurus (One Stop for Writers)

"I don't think you need all the backstory in the world..." (advice from Brennan Lee Mulligan, TTRPG gamemaster; ahbwrites)

How to Improve Your Secondary Characters: 6 Fresh Ideas (Em Dash Press)

Some Quick Character Tips (Coffee Bean Writing)

The Importance of The Unlikable Heroine (Claire Legrand; ahbwrites)

Don't Design a Character, Design a Character Arc (avalera; ahbwrites)

How to Write Character Arcs (Helping Writers Become Authors)

❯ ❯ Adapted from the writing masterpost series: 19 Things That Are Wrong With Your Novel (and How to Fix Them)

[to-boldly-escape]

Deviation from standard uniform protocol

As said before…I came to tumblr because I wanted to draw space men in crop tops ✨

Spock’s momentary lapse…under the cut

nonchalant acceptance? dry humour?…or maybe he'd just stand there with a raised eyebrow or a subtle quirk on his lips.

[rubberduckyrye]

You guys ever think about the tragedy that is Junko Enoshima? That she wasn't a sadistic girl seeking out to hurt others for sadistic glee?

Because everything Junko did was her trying to emotionally abuse herself? That she wanting to feel something so badly that she hurt the people she loved most, and even brought about ruin to the world, simply to destroy herself with it?

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

okay so like two things about this particular line.

one: i like the irony in claude telling someone to trust more.

two: HOWEVER, dimitri has literally absolutely no reason whatsoever in the name of yeehaw fuckity to not trust claude. i hate the way the game tries to absolutely force the things gw/sb claude does into ag when it doesn't even exist at all in ag. he never made a single hint of planning to just betray/harm the kingdom and this is literally at their first war meeting. not just that, but claude chose to go to faerghus himself and didn't ask them to go to leicester (which he specifically states being the one to choose to go to faerghus), so there wasn't anything indicating he might be up to something at all.

then we've got this stupid nugget:

each side lacks trust and is expecting foul play? the church expects foul play from the kingdom? from the alliance which has done nothing to them in this route, and that's bad enough... but the fucking kingdom too?

the kingdom and alliance watching for foul play even though they're allies and never had a history of being aggressive toward each other?

i know i've talked about it before but... i just hate how they tried to force this "claude is always scheming something terrible" plotline, even where it doesn't belong. then they also added in the dumb bit here about even the church not trusting the other armies, even though they've... literally been helping them, gratefully, this whole war. they also didn't have to fight but chose to out of gratitude for being sheltered.

suddenly after the timeskip they just... don't trust each other?

like i totally get just being in it to reclaim gm and go home and not really in it for someone else or anyone else, but the distrust is just an asspull to make the church seem BaD as usual.

claude just walked in and wasn't trusted. they also keep hammering it in right through the whole second half of the route with lots of kingdom allies (including playable ones) not trusting him. even if they relatively trust the alliance and the soldiers helping them that were integrated into their army, they specifically do not trust claude at all and are apprehensive about him.

dimitri agrees here if they can't be trusted, but he doesn't mention just personally distrusting them a whole lot. he agrees that they should be cautious if what the others say is true, but he also just shrugs it off as "they'll be enough to deal with the alliance if so". he seems unsure at first and kinda goes back and forth, but by the end he's the only character who faithfully believes that claude isn't just fucking around and leading them on (which literally, right to the very very very end, every single character except him is still very vocally doubting claude).

but like... why? there's... just... nothing to distrust him because of in this route. man literally exists and the game wants us to believe he's untrustworthy.

yeehaw wtf??? why would anything happen between the kingdom and alliance after the war? why would anything need to happen? even if you try to argue that claude is gonna try to uwu depose of the top church officials, if the church is watching the kingdom like hawks like dimitri is apparently aware of, why would the kingdom get involved? why would they care? clearly the church doesn't trust them all that much after all, or at least anymore since the timeskip for some unknown reason, and the kingdom has now, after this war, paid back any debt it owed the church.

so like, why would they suddenly rush to the church's aid and help them if the church doesn't trust them? if they were friendly/allied it would make sense if they still wanted to help, but if the church is expecting foul play from the kingdom, why would the kingdom even care what happens to the church? they could turn a blind eye and pretend they don't have the resources to aid them anymore and that their own territory is still busy recovering.

even if you argue what they discussed at the very beginning of the war, the church either A: didn't ask for aid in this second conflict, or B: even if they did, the above stands. i don't think there would be any riots or anything like that in those cases if the kingdom didn't help the church. it's one thing to help, but it's another to just fight at the back and call of another territory, which dimitri clearly expresses he won't do in gw because he puts the safety of his people first. no matter what his feelings are on the matter, he knows he's a king and that he has a responsibility to his people first and foremost, as would be expected of a king (to protect his own people first and foremost).

while i could see claude wanting to talk after the war and get things straight, and while i could see dimitri there as a mediator, there's just... literally no reason for bad blood after all this. even if they don't trust each other, there's just no reason - and that's aside from the fact that it's total bs that they all just don't trust each other.

lorenz just asks if shez has confidence in them. doesn't mention claude. shez though just... randomly is like oh yeah btw just not claude. totally unprompted.

lorenz distrusting claude has been part of his character since houses so his part of it is reasonable. normally i'd say it's really pushing things with claude not being trustworthy for someone to say they feel bad for shez/the kingdom army for the implication of having to deal with claude even as an ally, but the only reason i give this a pass is because it's an understandable and reasonable character who says it.

still though, it's like the game throws it in at every single possible opportunity for no reason at all. they don't give us any indication that claude is this big bad evil guy. he doesn't trust the church. like... that's it. he made that clear even in ag (even without the zaharas chapter), and that's just... it. the rest of this makes it seem like claude is going to just up and invade the kingdom after this war and try to unify fodlan (i.e. just go what edelgard's been doing this whole time).

it's just like... here, nobody trusts claude at all in this game just for simply existing. you don't even have to bring him up, because someone else will do it for you and shit talk him to remind you he's the biggest piece of shit the game can offer! meanwhile, we've got marianne who is concerned about edelgard (implication is her well being no less!) because the empire's army ain't doing so hot. poor indading aggressor! sure hope she's doing okay! fuck our leader though, he's the biggest steaming pile of bullshit garbage to ever exist (marianne didn't say that, but that's what the narrative is going for: poor edelgard, it's so sad that the invader is having it rough right now. anyway fuck claude he's literally as evil as tws).

i love ag but i'd say this is one of if not the worst hiccup in the writing. when it comes to faerghus itself and its characters, it's mostly fine and even great, but when it starts going into other territories/characters it ends up taking a nosedive in quality.

siiigh

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

see i think he has a point

zack: ma, i can't POSSIBLY go to school today, i've got a FEVER zack's mom i guess: hhaha, very funny zack

[lonestardust]

the state cognitive dissonance happening here after this god forsaken episode is just... wow its bad sjjsjs like how did they think they could get away with that without butchering the narrative on the way (they better have this salvaged in the rest of this arc).. like the way the lone star writers are getting comfortable after literally getting away with saying that TK was one year sober in 3x12 despite celebrating his one year of sobriety in 2x08

[eclysia]

something im also wondering atm is how much humanity/sentience zetta is keeping as a solosis. just how much was taken from him besides his human form? its honestly creepy as hell to think about

[pikachuinhightops]

YouTube has a weird type of link decay which comes from their account mentioning feature because it uses an account ID instead of just being the username.

I say it's weird cause I was desperately searching for a channel I couldn't remember the name of. The ones I thought weren't coming up so I found an old collaborative video they had done on another channel and clicked through the mention and they had entirely rebranded their channel, deleted or unlisted all their old videos, and the "update" video on their channel basically was just a channel intro and entirely ignored all the comments asking "what the hell happened??"

I thought I was hallucinating. Like if it weren't for that colab video that is still up I would have thought I simply made the channel up and had YouTube used a less robust mention system I never would have gotten to see what was behind the link decay.

[rebellum]

Yesterday evening i joked about how I skipped almost every single math class of grade 12 (I probably went to like 3 a month?) And then last night I . I forget where I was going with this because I wrote the side note below. Something about a bad math dream.

Side note that I'm writing before I forget it's kinda weird how we can say "last night" or "last wednesday" but not "last day." Or "yesternight". I think that should be a thing.

[tyrannuspitch]

OH. obvious realisation. i should read more dystopia... i like moral dilemmas and psychology and i'll probably have better luck finding in-depth explorations of those if i specifically look for dystopian stories than if i just keep combing through sff-in-general

[lilianade-comics]

My brain, loving and appreciating narrative parallels and themes: Danny and Vlad are perfect foils AND they have BEAUTIFUL generational parallels through their respective trios. In a more narratively coherent version of DP, this should be explored to its fullest potential. This logically means that Danielle should not exist so as not to distract from or muddy the waters of the prime dynamic.

Also my brain, 24/7 with no chill whatsoever:

cheese melt go brrrrrrrrrr

[fairuzfan]

academia is often used as the forefront of much of the violence inflicted on palestinians — for example in the library of congress, there is a collection called "the american colony of jerusalem" with racist photography and items that help visually perpetuate the "people without a land, land without a people" part of herzel's ideology, which itself is the forefront of much of zionist ideology. pointing out the systematic harm in academia is often considered "irrelevant" by zionists.... denies the origins of zionism as a political and academic ideology with physical consequences.

much of palestinian history throughout the last century has to do with erasure and silencing — that is how we got to this point. when i say no one listened to palestinians i mean NO ONE listened. they were ignored. all their demands were unreasonable. instead they get blamed for much of the world's unwillingness to listen. even my family members — i have stories of their work in academic resistance since '48. and some of them are well known contributions throughout euro-american and swana society. yet they're still ignored because of their palestinian origin.

"if you were just more reasonable" or "if you took the time to listen with compassion" or "you have to appeal to people's sense of reason" ignores the fact of the matter — this ideology's founding principals were built on "a people without a land for a land without a people." you cannot and should not ignore that. in order to complete the zionist ideology, you must remove the native population. therefore any subscribers to the idea of zionism are violent, whether they intend it or not.

and if it were true, that academia were irrelevant.... then that doesn't explain the systematic torture and imprisonment of writers and scholars, the exile of my family members who were journalists and activists, the captivity of friends for no other reason than they were deemed a threat by some list or the other.

oftentimes zionists, or zionist sympathizers, ignore our (diaspora's) material ties to the occupation and dismiss us as being "disconnected" from the "situation" in Palestine and "misunderstanding" or "misconstruing" israeli society. what am i misunderstanding exactly? that the origins of this "country" relies on violent displacement and exile? that for the past 75 years, that violence has not stopped once? that no matter what we say about the violence of zionism as an intrinsic aspect, it takes a secondary seat to the imagined realities of zionism?

therefore, anti-zionism is the logical conclusion for valuing palestinian lives. but what are the arguments against anti-zionism? that arab governments expelled jews from SWANA? do you think that's a result of anti-zionism? then you must not understand that palestinians are often treated poorly by the same governments that claim to have done this in the name of "anti-zionism," living in poverty in refugee camps, tortured and arrested, even in some cases exiled by governments. this also neglects to mention zionist collaboration with said governments to exile the jews of their lands.

so then, what?

if anti-zionism is the rejection of the settler colonial state of israel, which you must admit to be truly anti-zionist, then it is an exclamation of palestinian sovereignty and identity. so when you say anti-zionism and antisemitism are linked.... do you realize what you are implying? do you realize that zionism, the root cause of palestinian suffering, is the reason for our expulsion and displacement? so then when you write academic thinkpieces about the "complexity" of zionism, do you realize the harm you're doing? do you realize that this, in fact, is not a new or useful argument? that i've seen iterations of it for years and years? that at the core, the zionist ideology relies on this muddying of the waters for you to not do anything?

to be frank, your constant reminding of the complexity of zionism when people in palestine are suffering from the material effects of it only scream, to me, utter contempt and selfishness. zionism is violence, to me and my family. it is violence for every palestinian in this world. you must admit that to be a sincere advocate for palestinians, otherwise your words ring hollow. the present reality outweighs any possibilities.

[chaosandmarigolds]

osiem 🚑

EMS AU THINGYYY

Summary: Simon Riley Finds himself utterly in love with the newest paramedic on the base- issue is: he has the social skills of a five year old. CHAPTER SUMMARY: after a night out you wake up to unfamiliar bed. ��Ya ditched us-“

“Mmhm.” “We were left for dead!” “Mmhm.”

The laughed and unimportant conversation is what ultimately woke you up, and you grumble as you turn over in your makeshift…no…in your real bed, with some real blankets. If it wasn’t for the throbbing headache and the stinging pain in your side from dehydration you would’ve been more worried about it, however your main thought was to get some salt water and to pass out again- and hopefully without puking.

the second thing that should have alerted you was that you were not wearing the clothes you were wearing the night before- as you somewhat remember tripping into a muddy puddle…though that was foggy. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, face clean if not a little dry and hair pulled up. Again. Nothing you have any recollection of- speaking of no recollection you did not remember these clothes- though, you would open your closet and see clothes you had never seen before in your life in there, and the large zip up jacket and sweats seemed somewhat familiar.

The third alert that should have registered was the conversation, more of who was speaking it. It sounded like Johnny and Simon though it process, it sounded like roommates and you would be lying if you hadn’t grown use to the concept of roommates within your lifetime. So, with no thoughts lingering in your brain you walk into the living room, only for the conversation to quiet as three sets of eyes fell on you.

alright, new way to sober someone up: embarrass the fool out of them. Because within a millisecond you realize four things.

You were in the lieutenants bed

You had gone home with said lieutenant

You were wearing his sweat set, and judging by the large RILEY plastered across the front so did you

you were know being stared at by the three men in very team you were very new to

oh and five

5. it a hundred percent looked like you just had sex with your lieutenant

….did you have sex with your lieutenant?

“Good morn’n’ Lassie.” Johnny said with a frowning smile as he gives a look to Simon, who was much too busy waiting for the kettle to boil to pay what was going on any mind.

“Morning, Stitches.” Kyle echoed the sentiment as he attempted to be as respectful as possible- though he couldn’t quite get over how funny of situation he realized he was now witnessing. You know how people tell you to get over stage fright and you try it and somehow it makes everything worse? Yes? Well imagine that feeling times four million, you felt your skin heat up and your eyes wide. So, you did the only logical thing you could think of- move back to the bedroom and shut the door behind you. There was a solid minute where you just stared at the door in front of you, eyes wide as you tried to think through what had happened. You were…flustered after the EMS training and so you chose to go out for drinks and then you vaguely remember an…Allie? Or something and then it was all gone. Now you were here, in your Lieutenants clothes, woke up in his bed, makeup cleaned off your face and hair done up with a hair tie that very much wasn’t yours.

You were snapped out of your train of thought when you heard a knock on the door and you take a step back as it opens and there stood the very man you were just thinking about, holding out your clothes. Freshly cleaned and dried, folded neatly.

“Have coffee if ya wan some, shoes are by th’ door.”

And just like that the door shut again and you were left alone with your thoughts.

what. the. hell.

(WHAT DO YOU MEAN I RLLY JUST WANTED TO WRITE THIS SO I MADE IT WORK. Anyway, tootles!)

[greenerteacups]

I wonder often why Deathly Hallows as a book is so fascinated with wandcraft and wandlore, especially after the series has spent six volumes being more or less disinterested in it (with the exception of the Twin Cores plot in Book 4). A weirdly high % of the plot depends on who owns whose wand and why: the wand mixup with the Snatchers, Harry's wand being broken, Draco's wand, Bellatrix's wand, and of course, the final rigmarole over who's the "rightful master" of the Elder Wand, which ends up being a weird combination of killing/disarming/fist-fight to disarm someone who... wasn't even wielding the Elder Wand at the time he was disarmed, which begs the question of what it counts to "disarm" someone of a weapon they're not technically wielding? Also, are we to assume that Dumbledore was not disarmed once in the N years since his fight with Grindlewald? Or — here's a harder one — that Draco wasn't disarmed once between Dumbledore's death and his fight with Harry? That's plausible, but it's kind of weird that I need to believe it for the rest of the plot to make sense.

And like, I can think of a few Doylist reasons for this to be the case. The first is that JKR wants Voldemort to kill Snape in the boathouse, which allows Harry to get Snape's memories and retroactively justify why Snape's acted this way since PoA (and explain where the sword comes from in the lake in DH, too). I can think of better, more character-driven reasons for him to kill Snape (just... blow Snape's cover? reveal him as a double agent? have him try to kill Nagini? idk), but let's suppose, for subtextual reasons, she wants Voldemort to think Snape was loyal to the end. Having him die by Nagini's hand muddies the already-opaque water of what constitutes "disarming," because Nagini is a living creature. What if I drop someone into a pool of piranhas? Do I get their wand? Yeah, Voldemort commands her, but then — okay, what if I Imperius someone and make them disarm someone else? I get that it's not like DH has time for Harry to sit down with Ollivander and go through all of the tiny procedural rules for wand usage, but also, are these not relevant questions? Is this not the central mechanic of the final battle, this one piece of magic? Am I not supposed to wonder how it works?

The other reason I can imagine is that Harry wins a duel against Voldemort 1v1, which is not terribly believable unless there's some kind of magical advantage working in his favor. We know the Elder Wand's failure to execute the Cruciatus means Harry can't be harmed by spells the Elder casts, because it's his "true master." This is a really weird quirk in wandlore — why does it work this way? Is it the only wand that works this way? By that logic, shouldn't everyone Harry disarms be incapable of casting spells on him? — that emerges in Book 7, apparently for the purpose of giving Harry a buff in the final duel. Functionally, that's weird, because on a technical level it works the same way as Lily's protection — it's a reason that Voldemort can't hurt him. So why get rid of Lily's protection at all? It's not like he duels Voldemort between Book 4 and Book 7. The graveyard scene artificially hikes the stakes for Harry by making him physically vulnerable, pretty much only so he can die at the end of DH... except again, not for real, because Voldemort only ends up killing the piece of Harry that's a horcrux, so it doesn't even count!

And then Harry replaces the wand in Dumbledore's tomb. Which would be a nice moment if the lore hadn't established that anyone who disarms Harry, ever, will become the master of the Elder Wand by default. Harry knows this. He also knows that this knowledge is out there in the world; sure, Grindlewald's dead now, but do we think that Grindlewald never told anyone else about the Elder Wand? And he learned about it from somewhere, didn't he? So Harry might naturally assume that someone else would eventually come looking, in which case Dumbledore's tomb is far from the safest place to put this equivalent of a wizarding nuke. (Not that it seems to be all that powerful anyway; the coolest thing it does is fix Harry's other wand, and we're left wondering why the Elder Wand is considered "unbeatable" when people who own it seem to be getting disarmed all over the fucking place.)

Also, in retrospect, this makes it incredibly odd that Dumbledore allows Draco to disarm him, because he's giving the Wizarding Nuke to a 16-year-old servant of Lord Voldemort. Suppose that he's trying to prevent Snape from getting the wand, because he doesn't want Snape to be a target: okay, fine, but does he know Draco's going to give Snape credit for the kill? What if Draco lies? What if LV just... accepts the fact that the wand recognizes Expelliarmus as a point of transfer, and either disarms or kills Draco? And in any case, no matter what the answers to these questions are, why didn't he just ask Harry to disarm him before he went to the lake?

I'm usually not one to be an asshole about plot holes — mostly because, taken by themselves, I don't find them that interesting — but they become interesting to me when I see several of them in the same vein, because they tell me that the author's trying to do something. And they want to do it so badly they're willing to strain other parts of the story to make it happen.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

"I'm telling you Geralt, my songs are definitely working."

"A few contracts not skimping on payment isn't proof Jaskier. It's coincidence." Geralt replied as he stuffed his newly purchased supplies into Roach's saddlebag. After two years, he didn't need to look to know the bard was probably doing his uncanny impression of a landed trout. His default expression when he thought himself gravely offended.

"Oh hoho. So it's proof you want? Fine, I'll get you proof you old cynic - wait, I'm here calling you old, how old are you? I know Witchers age differently but it's all so contradictory. I remember one text claiming you aged backwards. Backwards!"

Geralt was blessedly distracted from Jaskier's tangent by a small tug on his cloak causing him to look behind him and then down.

A small, tear stained face with huge, liquid brown eyes looked up at him. The hand that wasn't clutching Geralt's cloak fisted in the skirt of a green dress as she shuffled her small, booted feet. Witcher and child stared at one another and even Jaskier had fallen silent.

"Are you the White Wolf?" She asked in a small voice.

Geralt could only nod in response, keeping an eye and both ears out for angry adults about to accuse him of kidnapping.

"I can't find my Papa." She sniffled, voice trembling and eyes welling up.

He felt himself slip into Witcher mode, trying to think what could be snatching people from a crowded town in the middle of the day, "What do you mean you can't find him, has he gone missing or-"

"Sweetheart, do you mean you got separated from your Papa in the market?" Jaskier gently interjected before Geralt could start fully interrogating her. The girl gave a small nod, turning her attention to the bard now kneeling in the dirt next to her.

Geralt felt his face heat up. Right. Just a lost child. That was also a possible (and the most logical) explanation.

"It's ok, we'll help you find him. Won't we Geralt?" Jaskier's tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

It turned out that Jaskier's idea of helping was having the girl perch on Geralt's shoulders and scan the top of the crowd for her father while he stood playing silly little dittys to keep her from crying again. Geralt holding onto her shins lightly and trying to ignore the mess being made on his cloak by muddy feet.

"I see him! Papa! Papa!"

Geralt tightened his grip slightly as her weight shifted with her frantic waving. Waiting until he was clearly making his way over to them before setting her gently back on the ground.

"Mika! Oh thank the God's." He turned his attention to the two men, his eyes widened as he took Geralt in fully.

"You're-"

"Hmmm."

Geralt tried to hide his surprise as the man grasped his hand in a firm if slightly clammy grip. "My thanks Wolf. I swear, if I went home without her my wife would make sure I shared the same fate as that Hag from the song of yours." He said, smiling awkwardly at his own attempt at humour, "Come on Mika, say goodbye. Oh, here."

He reached into his satchel and pulled something out. Geralt could smell warm sugar as he handed it over. "It's not much, but I don't know a single person who doesn't like cake. I could do with cutting down myself." He said, patting his own slight paunch before taking his daughters hand with a final "Thank you." Mika turning back to give a wave which they both returned before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

"What?" Geralt asked as they left the town. The bard hadn't stopped grinning at him like the cat who'd got the canary.

"Nothing. It just, the timing and everything. Seems Destiny agreed with me for once. The songs are making a difference."

"Hmm." Geralt fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh don't give me that." Jaskier said, swatting Geralt in the side as he unwrapped the package Mika's father had given them, "You saw as well as I did there were plenty of town guards around but she went to you. She wanted you. Oooh, maybe this would be good for a new song. The Gentle Wolf! Yes I- hey! "

"No cake for you until you stop." Geralt stated, popping a piece into his own mouth to hide his smile.

[queers-gambit]

"Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover"

prompt: ten years ago, Lucerys claimed Aemond's eye, and now, a Lannister will claim her debt.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.5k+

note: i use 'lover' because it sounds like the original line, 'mother'. also, what the fuck is this, Cherry?

warnings: very much not for minors! deranged characters? blood lust? depiction of grotesque, unhinged behavior. there's cursing, depiction of canon-typical violence and injury, show timeline and spoilers that lead into some VAGUE book references that might produce a slight AU timeline...? character death, obviously Team Green, so, there's some Team Black slander. half edited!

⚠️ season one, episode ten AND book spoilers

PLEASE BE AWARE I AM GOING TO MERGE THIS ONESHOT INTO A SMALL SERIES BUT WILL STILL LEAVE THIS UP

I AM CHANGING LANNISTER READER INTO A VELARYON READER

Rain water beaded against his leather trench overcoat, rolling off him like pellets to leave a scattered trail on the material. His boots splashed in the muddy terrain, dark castle looming tall in the stormy sky, and Mother Nature voiced her displeasure in the form of booming claps of thunder throughout the raging storm.

Long, straight hair turned unruly and crinkled in the torrential downpour; sticking to clothes and clinging to skin. His sword was latched to his weapons belt, bobbing on his hip with every stride he took to approach the Keep of The Stormlands, Storm's End.

"Identify yourself!" A guard shouted through the haze of rain.

You smirked, "Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys Targaryen, the Peaceful, and rider of Vhagar along with his wife, Lady Lannister."

The guards exchanged looks, then the other asked, "What business do you have here?"

"Official business that surely goes beyond your responsibility," you snapped. "We require an audience with your liege lord. Is Lord Borros in? Willing to receive? You'd do well to answer quickly, Vhagar isn't known for her patience - nor is my husband and I."

There was no dispute in leading you into the castle's throne room, members of court lingering in curiosity when they saw the One Eyed Dragon Prince and his Lady Lioness prowl through Storm's End. Lightning struck to flash through the cracks of the eery castle, creating an uneasy atmosphere and making Storm's End feel spookier then it probably was. Aemond smirked when you looked around the semi-empty throne room, the guards instructing you to stay put as their lord was fetched; you looking positively bored.

"You seem to have a natural liking towards our new status, do you not, my lioness?" He mused softly. "The way you commanded the guards to retrieve their Lord for us was very telling of your ease."

"Perhaps. Though I do not like the reason we are here, flexing our status in the first place," you told him with a sharp look. "Surely, there's other alliances to be made, Aemond. Why marry you off to some plain-faced Baratheon bitch?"

"Because war's come for us and we must all sacrifice for the cause," he sighed, staring at you without so much as twitching; letting you approach until standing chest-to-chest. "We require this pact, my love, because we must strengthen Aegon's claim. To use Daeron and I as marriage pawns feels logical given our proximity to the King."

You snarled, "You told me yourself that Aegon did not deserve to be King. Now, we must sacrifice our marriage vows for his claim?"

"I know it is not ideal," he relented, "but it's our current reality."

"Only for now, I sense the tides will turn several times before this is fucking over."

"Hmm."

When Lord Borros finally arrived, he appeared disgruntled by the abrupt arrival of you and your husband, Prince Aemond. He was grouchy, but still welcoming enough; slumped in his chair, eyeing you both, mentioning, "This must be of grave importance to arrive in such a manner, with no warning."

"It is," Aemond answered smoothly, "because war has come to shadow Westeros once more, my Lord."

"Is that so?"

"King Viserys is dead," he informed clearly, "and as such, the natural succession would've passed to the King's named heir, Princess Rhaenyra, but King VIserys had a change of heart. Instead of his daughter, the King wanted his first born son, Aegon II, to ascend the Iron Throne after him."

"And that's to do with me...?"

"The Princess will demand your loyalty, Lord Borros," you stepped in, "to uphold a stale oath your father made decades ago. Come the day, you will be forced to pick sides; yet we simply would like to offer you terms of consideration before hearing Rhaenyra's."

"If the Princess is willing to offer terms, that is," Aemond punctuated.

Borros sat still, then leaned in slightly, "And what are these terms you wish to offer, girl?"

"My Lady-wife has earned the title Princess, my Lord," Aemond corrected sharply, "and will be addressed as such."

Borros nodded stiffly, "Of course, my apologies."

"No matter," you assured. "Tell me, Lord Borros, do you not have unwed daughters?"

"I do, a gaggle of them."

You smirked, "My husband, though not King, is of ancient and rich Valyrian blood. He is happy to uphold customs of his ancestors by taking another wife - so, we offer a marriage pact in exchange for your swords and banners."

"And what of you?"

"What of me?"

"You would just let your husband wed another woman?"

"Who am I to question the will of the Gods?" You mused, figuring you wouldn't tell him how Aemond had already promised never to bed the Baratheon girl. "Should they smile upon this union, so would I. My father, may he rest in peace, before his passing ensured to instill in me a sense of duty and honor, Lord Borros, and with this civil war, we might all do our part to see the end of it."

He hummed, eyeing you both. "All right," Borros half-agreed, "but which of my daughters, hmm? I've four of them - uh," he snapped, "what is this? Someone fetch the girls! Let the Prince see - he may choose to wed whichever he deems acceptable."

"Do we have a deal, Lord Borros?" You asked.

He nodded, "Pending the Princess' terms - my father did swear fealty to Princess Rhaenyra, I would do well to honor that by at least hearing her."

"A noble answer," you accepted.

It wasn't a long wait for his four daughters to arrive, an even shorter wait for Aemond to make a decision. There was Cassandra, Maris, Ellyn, and Flora Baratheon - all ripe for the picking. "Well?" Aemond asked you.

You shrugged, "This is your choice, you're the one who has to bed her." His lips twitched in amusement, eyeing the women stood in a straight line. "Fuck's sake - why not kiss them all and chose that way? Leaves less room for surprise later. Plus what're the odds Rhaenyra's sent her envoy? We should solidify Baratheon's loyalty now."

Aemond chuckled, looking each woman over carefully as a guard entered the room. "My Lord," he called, earning the attention, "another dragon has been spotted and is approaching the Keep."

"What did I fucking say?" You smirked at Aemond.

"Receive whoever it is," Borros permitted. "And you? Have you come to a decision? My girl, Maris, there, would make a clever wife."

"I've one clever enough wife and would be overrun with another," Aemond answered wistfully. "The Lady Flora is acceptable."

"Very well," Borros nodded, "and the terms of dowry?"

You watched as Aemond pulled Flora from the line of sisters, standing to the side as he examined her. He told Lord Baratheon the number of Gold Dragons he thought his daughter was worth, the two haggling lightly over prices before Borros accepted that with the threat of war, his son might become preoccupied, so, the seat of Storm's End would be inherited by Aemond and Flora's children.

Thunder rumbled as a deal was struck.

Boots marched down the stone hall and all conversation ceased to await the newcomer with taunt curiosity. Aemond subtly turned to look at you, ignoring his pretty new intended, as a procession of guards marched into the gloomy room. You boldly stared at the arrival, feeling your heart stall in your chest when you saw it was him... That bastard... The Strong Bastard that mutilated both you and your husband a decade ago.

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon," it was announced, marching coming to an echoing halt. Aemond chose that moment to turn and present himself to the young prince who haunted your every living and dreaming nightmare. He looked startled to see you both there, the guard ending, "Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen."

Against the thundering storm, Lucerys spoke timidly - as if, any louder and his voice would squeak and crack. "Lord Borros... I brought you a message from my mother... The Queen."

"Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King," Borros shot at the young prince. "Which is it? King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it." He laughed at his own joke, but when none others joined, he asked Lucerys stoically, "What's your mother's message?"

The Strong Bastard just held up a scroll like the spoilt brat he was, a guard taking it from his fingers to walk it to the Stag Lord since the Prince deemed himself too important to hand deliver the message. Lord Borros sighed when he took up the scroll, looking expectingly to his court, then snapping, "Where's the bloody Maester?"

Lord Borros Baratheon could not read, you see.

So, you all waited as the Maester was retrieved; Lucerys sparing spooked looks at you and Aemond - the latter of whom just smirked in amusement. Luke couldn't truly see the disfigurement he caused, but your scars almost glittered in the flashes of lightning to assure him they were right where he left them. You turned to your husband, whispering in his ear, "Remember all those times when you promised me his eye as a gift? When shall we be presented an opportunity such as now?"

He shushed you with a restrained smirk, wanting so bad to entertain your banter - and daydream about doing to Luke what he did to you two. You told Aemond you didn't need Luke to bear a scar like your own, and that's when he promised to give you the Prince's eye.

The Maester arrived when Luke felt uneasy enough to palm a fist around the hilt of his sword, elderly man hobbling up to Lord Borros, taking the scroll, then reading it.

The Maester bent to summarize the letter to his Lord. You smirked at Aemond when Borros snapped, "'Remind' me of my father's oath? King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact! If I do as your mother bids," he leaned forward on his throne, looking to the side, asking, "which one of my daughters will you wed... Boy?"

"My Lord," Lucerys trembled, "I am not free to marry. I'm already betrothed."

"I did not realize betrothal was weighed heavier than marriage," Borros sneered, indicating to you and Aemond, "which means you come with empty hands. Go home, pup, and tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

There was a beat as his words sunk in.

"I shall take your answer to the Queen, my Lord," Lucerys informed, sparing everyone one last look before turning on his heel to vacate.

Yet he couldn't just walk away so easily.

"Wait," Aemond called out loud before you could, the Prince halting, "my Lord Strong." You grinned when Luke turned fully and then stepped forward to the edge of his guarded protection, a look of disbelief adorning his features. "Did you really think that you could just fly about the Realm," he continued, taking a few slow, stalking steps forward with you on his flank and Floris stepping further away, "trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?"

"I will not fight you," Lucerys declared. "I came as a messenger, not a warrior."

You giggled to mock the boy's sword skill, wanting to hurt the boy's ego as much as possible. Your husband smirked at you before musing, "A fight would be little challenge." He paused to consider his options. "No," he told Lucerys, reaching for his eye patch and pulling the leather from his head. "I want you to put out your eye," He growled, staring at Luke, sapphire winking in the low torchlight; his arm coiling around your waist to keep you at his side. He explained, "As payment for mine. One will serve," and he flipped back his leather overcoat to reveal a dagger, yanking it free to toss across the distance at Lucerys. It clattered and skidded, the sound ominous between the claps and rolling booms of thunder. "I would not blind you," he told the boy. Then, as if concealing a smirk, he finished, "Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover."

The ground shook violently when Vhagar landed outside the Driftmark Dragon Pit. The air whooshed your hair back, little feet stumbling back a few paces into the rock wall, hair on the back of your neck standing on end when Aemond dismounted the beast. It wasn't as if you weren't proud or incredibly impressed by his ability to claim the oldest dragon in the known world, but you weren't a Targaryen and dragons made you uneasy.

You could understand animals had minds of their own, and while, yes, Targaryens were closer to Gods than Men because they fly on dragons, you knew they did not control the dragons. They merely domesticated the winged terrors, but you knew the animal could snap at any moment's notice. You didn't like being so close as to become an accidental casualty, so you waited in the mouth of the Pit to give plenty of room between you and Vhagar.

"Well? How was it?"

Aemond beamed at you, "Like nothing I've ever experienced before."

"She's much, much bigger up close," you eyed the dragon watching you both. She was too large in size for the Dragon Pit, but for you, it was a way back into the Driftmark Castle; so, Vhagar was left to her own devices as you and Aemond strode inside.

"You'll have to come flying with me."

"No, no, I like the ground very much. It's safer down here."

"You'll love flying, I can all but promise you."

"If the Gods wanted me in the air, they'd of made me a Targaryen," you teased, both entering the torch-lit passage. "Alas, I am not, so, I think it wise to keep my feet on the ground."

"I'll get you on dragonback with me one day," he smirked. "She's the oldest, you know, and the largest, too."

"I know," you beamed in amusement.

"And she's mine," he whispered, shaking his head and fighting off his grin. You looped your arm with his, giggling your praise over his display of bravery; entering the division foyer of the Pit only to spy Prince Daemon Targaryen's daughters, Baela and Rhaena, with Princess Rhaenyra's sons, Jacerys and Lucerys Velaryon.

"It's them!" One barked.

"It's us," Aemond sneered quickly, understanding confrontation when he felt it. You didn't like this... Something about this exchange felt very wrong; there was four of them, two of you, and you were not their blood relative - so, why be involved at all?

"Vhagar is my mother's dragon!" Rhaena seethed.

"Your mother's dead," Aemond reminded sharply.

You smirked, tacking on, "And Vhagar has a new rider now."

"She was mine to claim!"

"Then you should've claimed her!" You barked in annoyance. "You are not the only dragon-less Targaryen, but you're the one who expects to just be gifted one!"

Aemond sneered right after you, "Maybe your cousins can gift you a pig to ride. It would suit you."

This (rightfully) angered the girls. Rhaena charged and latched onto Aemond but was easily swatted to the ground. At that same moment, her twin, Baela, took the opportunity to jab her knuckle into your nose, sending you into the dirt. "Fuck's sake!" You snapped, Aemond clocking the injury and slamming his fist against Baela's cheek to send her into the dirt, too.

Aemond helped you to your feet as he snarled at the girls, "Come at us again and I'll feed you to my dragon!"

Jace charged, and from there, it was a blur of adrenaline. Before you understood, you were defending yourself from a hurricane of fists and feet; reaching up to grab hold of Rhaena's locs and yank as hard as you could. It gave you a small advantage to get up, see the three others beating on Aemond, and rushed for the fray.

The Prince saw you and pause his resistance to let you grab hold of Baela - also pulling her so hard, a loc or two might've been ripped from her scalp. Aemond kicked Jace, you sent the girls into the dirt, and Aemond managed to catch hold of Lucerys by the throat as he got to his feet. Aemond's hand found purchase on a large rock, standing above them all as you panted from his side; rock raised in threat.

"You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did!" Aemond declared, snarling, "Bastards."

Through his whimpering, Luke sobbed, "My father's still alive!"

For a moment, Aemond appeared disarmed, but then sneered, "He doesn't know, does he? Lord Strong?"

This upset Prince Jacerys enough that he brandished a concealed dagger from his sleeve; holding it at the ready, ignoring his cousin's pleas of his name. "Blade in play," you warned Aemond.

Luke was kicked away, Jace was dodged, disarmed, then shoved to the ground. You were all bruised, bloodied, beaten; thinking that despite twice the numbers, you and Aemond managed to hold your own pretty damn well. The Prince lifted the rock again, this time with his sights set on Jace, ignoring Luke scrambling in the dirt.

Pretty damn well until it was too late.

You screamed in absolute horror when a white hot pain flashed across your face when you meant to turn away from the fight. You went down, Aemond looked over in shock and confusion, and in that moment, Lucerys swung his brother's blade again. It cut through half of Aemond's face, the eye being severed in two; blood gushing between both your hands.

Of course, this was the time the White Cloaks arrived - but it was too late. The damage was done. You sobbed uselessly as the knights tried to help you off the ground, trembling violently as adrenaline wore off. You were instantly escorted to the castle's throne room where the Maester and other attendants met you.

Guards posted.

Blood soaked into cloth.

The Queen arrived with the Hand before anyone else - instantly demanding her son (and you) be attended to at once. She listened to the shaky account of events, but it was difficult to get an accurate picture as you and Aemond were both preoccupied with being medically attended to.

You held Aemond's hand as you were both cleaned up. There was nothing to save, Aemond's eye removed and your face being pinched and stitched. Nearly 200 years from now, one of your descendants will earn nearly the exact same scar during the Battle of the Blackwater; a mark that cut through the face from temple, over the nose, to opposite ear.

You listened to the spoiled brats spin their webs, opting to remain quiet in the presence of the King.

However, after Princess Rhaenyra finally showed up with Prince Daemon, after Lord Corlys Velaryon and Lady Rhaenys Targaryen arrived, attention shifted.

" - Didn't just mutilate our son, but the Lady Lannister as well!" Alicent raged.

King Viserys eyed you as if seeing you for the first time, slowly approaching. "My Lady," he spoke softly, "you have not yet said a word this evening."

"It is not my place, Your Grace."

"It is now," he permitted. "Speak, and tell me the truth of it. What happened tonight?"

You swallowed nervously, "The Prince Aemond claimed his dragon, Vhagar, Your Grace, and upon returning, the... Uh, well, the Princes Jacerys and Lucerys along with their cousins, Ladies Rhaena and Baela, were waiting for us."

"Waiting?" Viserys repeated.

"Yes, Your Grace, I believe they wanted to see who had claimed Vhagar," you offered.

"Who hit who first?"

With a sigh, you answered, "Lady Baela hit Prince Aemond first. A solid hook, for whatever it's worth."

Alicent now approached, squatting in front of you and asking, "How did you sustain such injury, Lady Lannister? Come... Speak the truth. Tell us the meaning of this."

"Prince Jacerys brought the blade, Your Grace," you mumbled, "but it was lost in the scuffle. It was Prince Lucerys who offered injury to both Prince Aemond and I."

You could've cried when Rhaenyra, as usual, managed to somehow spin your story into making her sons the victims. Despite being told the four ambushed you two, they weren't even reprimanded because their parents were all so angry that it truly distracted from the present situation at hand. In the end, Queen Alicent snapped and charged to attack, but the Princess Rhaenyra intercepted her before damage could be done.

The blade Alicent stole from her husband's belt was dropped - but not before the tip sliced into the flesh of the Princess' forearm. You were fuming, watching them all leave; you had been seriously maimed, and so far, you had been the one spoken to as if a criminal. Rhaenyra would need stitches, sure, and a broken nose was the worst of their injuries - but Aemond lost his eye, and you?

You felt as if you lost your life because who the hell would want you now? With this scar? This big, fat, noticeable scar that split your face? Sure, your Lannister name would get you places - but not everywhere. Considering your young age, this only left time for rumors to fester and for everyone to notice your injury; being no escape and no where to hide from ridicule.

For years, you would consider yourself damaged. For years, you would mourn yourself. For years, you would sharpen your mind, wit, and intelligence because if you couldn't bring standard "beauty" to the table, you wanted to be able to offer something redeeming.

For years, you would undergo emotional turmoil before your engagement to Aemond is announced; convincing yourself you did not deserve love because your anger made you likened to a shrew. You felt ugly on the outside, ugly on the inside; a product of your environment and experiences. When the promise of marrying your best mate was bestowed, the entire court was shocked by the 180 you both did; where once stony and stoic, both were now soft and kind - but only to one another.

To everyone else, you were both still stony and indifferent. But to each other? You and Aemond would move mountains.

Yet that night on Driftmark would haunt for you for the rest of your lives; no matter the promise of love, marriage, and a 'normal' life. Late nights would be held together, fantasizing about your revenge; considering the future in which you made Lucerys Strong pay for what he did to you.

"Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover."

"No," Lucerys barked, looking distraught by the sheer idea of what Aemond demanded. His answer made the amusement drain from Aemond's features, this was a man not often told no. His hand passed you his eye patch for safe keeping; the raging storm outside portraying the tension brewing in the throne room of Storm's End.

"Then you are craven as well as a traitor."

"Not here!" Borros understood fighting words when he heard them - not wanting the repercussions of a dead or injured Prince Lucerys, because, let's face it, Luke couldn't do damage to Aemond even if he tried.

Aemond literally sprang into action, releasing his grip on you, shouting as he strode forward. "Give me your eye," he stooped to snatch his dagger from the ground, "or I will take it, bastard!"

Lucerys brandished his sword for protection, but Borros launched out of his seat to intervene by shouting, "Not in my hall!" This made Aemond skid to a halt. "The boy came an an envoy. I'll not have bloodshed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon... Now."

You smirked when Aemond just watched the boy flee the hall, hand flipping his dagger expertly before sheathing it. You met his gaze, holding prolonged eye contact to publicly show you were not afraid of him, his looks, his lack of eye, or adoration for him.

"Well, Lord Borros," you mused, turning to the Stag Lord, "looks as if you've chosen in this war."

He huffed, "We can discuss specifics later."

Aemond nodded, "We'll be off."

"Do not - "

"You said no blood shed under your roof," you reminded, "not above."

"The Prince is young and small - "

"We gave him a fair head start." Borros looked ready to rebuttal, but you snapped, "We're at war, my Lord. Either you let the dragons fight in the skies or it'll be your men fighting in the trenches. The choice is yours."

"See that? His woman bites harder than he," Maria scoffed to her sisters, only juuuuust loud enough for her voice to carry across the room. Then she snarled at your husband, "Tell me, Prince Aemond, was it just your eye Prince Lucerys took, or one of your balls, too? You threw a dagger at him and stopped when Daddy said stop," her eyes rolled, "those are not qualities of a man."

You were ready to attack. In fact, you started striding up to Maris when Aemond intercepted you swiftly with a suffocatingly strong grip. "We've more important matters," he reminded you, turning, and promising to send word to Lord Borros before disappearing out of the side door.

"How dare she," you seethed on your way to Vhagar. "That buck-tooth looking rodent dares insult you? Her own Prince? In front of others - oh, the nerve of that family!"

"Bigger picture at work here, love," Aemond mused as he fixed his patch back on, never one to address the things that were bothering him - like when someone hurt his feelings or bullied him over his missing eye.

But you were always ready to bite those that offered insult. You were a Lion in a golden cage, after all.

You grumbled the entire time, reaching Vhagar, launching as discreetly as she possibly could to scan the skies. It wasn't easy to find the Prince because his dragon blended into the storm so perfectly, but once the tiny beast was located, you were locked on. You rode behind Aemond in his saddle, both being harnessed to prevent any unseating; the combined weight never phasing his ol' girl. Vhagar understood they were in some kind of chase, and when she gave a grumble that rumbled over the thunder you flew through, Aemond gave her a command in High Valyrian to quiet herself.

You could see glimpses of Luke turning to search areas you had just vacated; loving this game of cat and mouse. You hoped the anticipation and anxiety of being watched was upsetting the Prince - just so he had a little bit of emotional trauma from this, you know? Just so he had a little taste of the emotional turmoil you had to suffer the past decade.

"Ready?" Aemond asked you.

You squeezed his waist before boldly reaching down to palm his cock through his breeches, hissing in his ear, "Do it, you owe me a gift."

Aemond grinned and directed Vhagar to circle around and fly forward until almost colliding with Lucerys - should he not've steered Arrax lower at the last moment. The close call was enough to make you both laugh, the sound traveling over the noisy nature. Aemond turned Vhagar again, trying to snatch at Arrax with her talons while your husband hurled insults and taunting phrases as his nephew.

With a small groan, you reached for a separate piece of the saddle to hold onto while Aemond drove Vhagar into a nosedive after the smaller dragon. When they came up to a cavern of sea rocks, Aemond was forced to pull Vhagar back before she could crash - but Arrax had no issue navigating into and through the canyon. You were forced to fly above it, searching for your prey once more.

Lucerys seemed to evade you for a time.

"What happens when we find him?"

"I will have the bastard's eye," he reminded you.

"Yes, but what if he resists?"

"Of course he will."

"So you mean to kill him? Is that the plan, Aemond?"

He did not answer you, looking over Vhagar's sides for his prey. He shouted in High Valyrian, "You owe a debt! Boy!"

Suddenly, from your left, Arrax descended upon Vhagar with a vicious spewing of fire that licked your flesh hatefully. Aemond flinched back into your chest, trying to shield yourselves from the heat of the flames, but it was too late. You cried out, whimpering with discomfort when the flames died; marring and mangling your skin. Prince Lucerys was heard scolding his dragon, and for a moment, you felt as if you could see the future because there was no way Vhagar was going to let that kind of disrespect occur and do nothing about it.

The ol' girl gave a rumble before bellowing after Arrax. She turned herself to where the other dragon had disappeared and started to push off as her owner begged and pleaded with her not to. "Serve me, Vhagar, no!" He commanded, desperate to keep his beast under control, but being evident these two wild animals were in an altercation all their own and meant to follow their instinct.

"We want his head still, Vhagar!" You laughed loudly, Aemond growling with a smirk.

"Do not encourage her!"

"Do not try to domesticate a 180-year-old dragon!" You gave a small whoop of excitement. "She's a Dragon of War, Aemond! Violence is what she knows!"

He grunted as he struggled with the reins. However, Vhagar ignored him and made her own turn, pumping her wings twice and then breaking into the morning sun above the storm. For a fleeting moment, it was incredibly gorgeous to be so high in the sky...

And then it was over before anyone could stop it.

Vhagar opened her mouth and gave one chomp around the body of boy and dragon. There was a shrill cry of fear before Vhagar's moan of content, then eery silence settled as half-consumed bits fell to the ground beneath.

"Well," you cleared your throat, staring at the bloody bits falling, "if it wasn't enough that Aegon took her crown, surely, the two of us taking her son will be the push Rhaenyra needs to meet us in conflict."

"No," he cleared his throat, "you were not here - "

"I was, I would not allow you to bear this burden on your own. To take the blame," you met his eye. "I encouraged this just as much, and Rhaenyra will know it was us - she'd never believe I was not involved."

"Can you not be logical right now?" He trembled, leaning his forehead to yours.

"Okay..." You whispered, "Well, could we go see if there's anything left?"

"That's morbid, my love."

"What? You're the one who promised me his eye. I know you didn't mean for this, but the truth is," you smirked, "you did. You knew what pursuing him would result in - your dragon doesn't understand your need for revenge, she understands eat or be eaten."

Aemond sighed, "Too soon for that phrase."

"Noted. Now, c'mon," you encouraged, giving his waist a squeeze. "I know you're curious to see what's left, too."

And he was, so Aemond directed Vhagar back down. It was difficult to predict where the body parts could've ended up, but seemingly, luck was on your side and you descended to the shore. There was a small scattering of remains, bits being washed up or away with every new lap of sea water.

You dismounted and started searching through the remnants, storm still outlandishly raging around you. "Love?" Aemond spoke from behind you, making you jump slightly. He smirked, "Got something for you, my Lioness."

"You do not..." He held up the messily decapitated head of Lucerys "Velaryon", your laugh surprising and genuine. "Oh, we're sooo going to Seven Hells," you sighed, shrugging, "but you know, it doesn't really get worse than what we've already done, so," you motioned for him to set the head down.

"Here," he agreed, using his dagger to harvest Lucerys' eyeballs from the skull you helped hold. When he was done, you chucked the head away before Aemond's bloody hands set both eyes in your cupped, outstretched palms; watching you weigh them.

"You know, Lannisters always pay their debts," you mused, smirk pulling at your lips, "but we also are always repaid our debts. How strange, to hold his eyes and think they were once functioning... In his head, of use, probably full of tears when Vhagar chased him in the sky."

"Hm," Aemond considered, then pointed to your hand. "It's with his eyes, I promise you, my Lioness, the fall of our enemies." He proclaimed, then musing, "Should we give Maris Baratheon one to prove ourselves?"

You smirked, "She said you must've lost your balls, right?"

"Almost positive Vhagar ate Lucerys' so we cannot present her with them."

"Damnit," you pouted. "All right, fine, sure, we might show the Baratheon's we mean war... But I'd like to keep them both, please."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"Put them in a jar and keep until I'm no longer angry about what he did to us..."

"So, his eyes are going on our mantle?"

"You bet your sweet balls," you grinned, twirling Lucerys Velaryon's Strong's organs in your hand like a pair of game dice.

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