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glassrowboat · 5 months

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I Grew Up. Jing Yuan.

Summary: Before Jing Yuan was the general of the Luofu, he was just another kid who would play with wooden swords and bugs; a menace who was always ready to prove himself as a Cloud Knight. And besides him? An apprentice from the Alchemy Commission who was always ready to annoy him in his endeavors.

Warnings: Mentions of war, gore, death, there is an NSFW part (when both characters are adults), so fingering, smut, oral

Word count: 11,300+

A loud, cheery voice called out “one, seventeen, five hundred and seventy two,” as a blade swung in the air. The rustle of clothes coming with each move, every practiced hit to a non-existent enemy having a random number sang out into the air to match it. No chirping bird nestled in the trees to be had as the source of the voice had long since scared them all away. “Nine hundred and ninety nine, fifty six!”

And with each shout Jing Yuan was repeating the number he was actually on in his head, trying not to let a certain annoyance distract him as she has done so many times before. (Y/n)’s antics just as familiar as the spot he found himself training in. Cracked stones with bits of moss growing between the once upon a time smooth concrete, a red tree providing shade from the blaring sun, and a bench only five feet away currently supporting a girl with her hands to her mouth, trying to echo out each word.

“Sixty nine! Two thousand one hundred and five!”

Her green dress was tell enough that this girl was from the alchemy commission, but they both already knew that, the details of swirling clouds so unlike the ones above the two providing shade. A shadow cast out over the courtyard helping keep the air just cool enough that a light breeze would have anyone considering fetching a sweater. Well, anyone not in the middle of a training session.

“You are being a nuisance.”

Per usual.

Bringing his sword back up to practice another swing Jing Yuan tried his best to ignore the taunting words just begging him to chase her around the small space, again. “Oh, big word for a little guy. Jingliu teach you that one recently?”

“What if she did? Master is-”

“Three hundred eighty six.”

“Master is-”

“Seventy nine.”

With a clamor Jing Yuan drops his sword in a way one could compare it to a knight getting his weapon knocked out of his hand in the heat of battle. A daunting enemy above him threatening to end his life with their own blade as he scurried to fetch it back in time before that looming presence, a terrifying face about to become the last thing his ten year old self sees. So like a prince charming in a fairy tale, his fingers would grasp the worn down hilt from the shape of his hand just in the knick of time, blocking the enemy’s strike. A triumphant hero. Except it was the complete opposite. The sword just fell to the ground from a slip of Jing Yuan’s fingers.

“Smooth moves, Yuan.”

“If you hadn't distracted me.”

“And what Cloud Knight is supposed to lose his weapon because a chicka said a few words?”

Jing Yuan had to stop himself from biting on the inside of his cheek or maybe even a scoff just so he could get out: “any knight should know that sometimes you will lose your weapon in combat and what really matters is what I do next.”

Like he could grab a hidden dagger! Or….”I could just take the blade of a defeated foe.”

“Like what? Those giant ones the mara use?” (Y/n) held a hand up above her head, waving it in the air to call extra attention to it, a habit from waiting to be called on in class after listening to someone drone on for hours at a time about the medicinal properties of lily of the valley or something of the like. “I've seen those before, and they're taller than both you and I, so good luck! You'd have to spin around in circles just to give the blade any force behind it.”

A small giggle fell from her lips as she pretended to swing a giant blade, mocking the same way she would see Jing Yuan use his own.

‘Just what in the world is she imagining?’

“Just admit it, evolution didn't choose you, short stuff. So you'll just be a knight in training even when you're five hundred years old.”

‘As if!’

Picking his blade back up Jing Yuan slid it away in its designated sheathe with a satisfying click, the glare from the metal no longer reflecting on the ground beneath him as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. “I told you that I'm going to be taller than you one day. Besides, you're only four inches taller than me, that isn't a lot.”

“I feel like I can make a joke here but it might go over your head.”

“Nope! Nope!” Not wanting to hear it, Jing Yuan smacked his hands to his ears. Maybe it would be enough to block out her shrill voice even as (Y/n) got closer to try and pull them off and out of place. “Just because you had to earn about that stuff for your studies doesn't mean I want to hear it. Not again. Mom already gave me the talk and it was awful!”

“You're such a kid.”

“She was talking about things with things and wouldn't let me leave until I repeated it back to her.” Right after he had run to go try and wash his ears out by dunking his head in the water can outside his home in hopes of the water knocking the words loose.

“You're not helping your case here.”

“It doesn't matter! That stuff like kissing other people the way mom and dad do is so not on my agenda. That can be saved for your princess stories and other girly stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” A little grin curled at the corners of her lips, most likely due to having another retort right on the tip of her tongue. (Y/n) even got out the words “then why are you so huffy over this stuff” before being cut off with little to no mercy by a loud call of her name. A man’s voice shouting for the girl again and again, only drawing nearer with each passing second. “Shit! I-I mean shoot. Shoot.”

Dropping his hands he stood there watching the panic come to her face. Only slightly smug. “Sure you did.”

“You're not helping!”

Quickly her form ran over to the courtyard's many walls, green dress fluttering behind as those little legs scurried around in a panic. Her voice only picked up in speed as (Y/n) tried to get the situation out, and understood, as fast as possible. “Yuan, I have to go right now. I left without permission again.”

‘Of course she did. Probably to get out of those talks about being switched out to advanced classes.’

“Hoist me up!”

“And why should I? You've been doing nothing but trying to get under my skin this entire time.”

Again, another call of her name sounded. Haize’s voice becoming clearer and clearer. A man Jing Yuan had only come across in passing when trying to drag a certain nuisance into playing with him. Or, a better way to put it, (Y/n)’s master.

“You motherf- I'll owe you!” Her hands were scrambling at the bricks on the wall, trying to find just the right ones to use for purchase. As if that's how scaling a flat wall would work, like rock climbing. Sure. “Just help me up or for the Reignbow Arbiter sake!”

He couldn't help the chuckle he was trying, and failing, to fight back from escaping, not with how quickly she did a 180. From teasing the life out of him (per usual) to now looking like she would plead like her life is on the line. Though with master Haize it was hard to tell, he could very well deal out writing the same sentence a thousand times over worse. At least that's one of the lighter one's Jing Yuan has heard about.

‘One shall not leave the alchemy commission without permission’ with each ‘I’ dotted with one of her hastily drawn hearts.

“Why should I? I think this is simply karma.” Despite his words Jing Yuan was already coming over to help, eyes going up and down the wall to figure out the best way to go about it.

“You little- I'll owe you, okay?”

“I know you will.”

And just like those five years ago, when they were both kids running amok trying to help one of them escape from an unjust punishment, (Y/n)’s shoe fell between his interlocked hands to his shoulder as she managed to swing a leg over gray tiles of the walls roofing. Admittedly it was a bit of a blessing that at least this time she didn't have to step on his head to get that proper step up. Last time that left a good mark of dirt in what was otherwise Jing Yuan's pure white hair as she scrambled away with a wide eyes scanning over the courtyard like she was expecting her master to pop out of thin air and a quick “see ya!”

Now though? (Y/n) was looking down at him from up high, her hand held out to help him up to follow her.

“And why are we sneaking into one of the alchemy commissions gardens when you have full access to go here?” This entire thing didn't really make sense to him, but here he was playing along even as the scent of flowers hit Jing Yuan in a way that was comparable to a woman accidently spraying her perfume in your face.

“Because, esteemed Jing Yuan, you're not allowed back here. And we have to do something to celebrate you officially becoming a cloud knight.”

Grabbing her hand the very same ‘esteemed knight’ pulled himself up and along beside her with very little help besides a tug or two to his blue sleeves. The uniform he now gets the privilege to wear with a red ribbon Jing Yuan ties around his waist every morning with pride after years of work and swinging that same blade over and over again. He swears that if he took a moment to just sit there and close his eyes while this menace of a woman jumps down into the garden below that he could feel the grip in his palm.

That is until his eyes shoot open as he hears a grunt and sees her figure kneeling on the ground, one of her hands brushing dirt off her face. Failing at that too, but for now she doesn't need to know that.

“Smooth moves.”

“Shut it.”

Jumping down after her, in a proper landing, Jing Yuan helps her up as (Y/n) huffs.

“But my point still stands, cloud knight.” Knocking a hand against his chest she turned back to the garden before them. An array of colors. Each petal is like a brush stroke on a canvas. “You got to your big goal, so we should celebrate.”

“Many of the other trainees after getting accepted were shooting the breeze with shaoxing glasses in their hands, and you choose a flower field you know like the back of your hand to take me to?”

“Fine, don't appreciate it. But I at least thought it would be nice. It's been a while since you've been allowed back here after you ruined a flower bed.”

“And last I recall you're the one that pushed me into said flower bed.”

“Anyway-” trying and failing to hide her laughter at what was most likely the memory of tripping Jing Yuan straight into a pile of dirt and seeds before her fellow classmates (Y/n) bent down so she could properly look at the blossoms before her. She probably knew every little detail about that flower, but Jing Yuan couldn't place it as anything more than just another pink one.

‘Anyway, she says.’

“Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses? Besides, if anyone catches us I'm just here….getting a few herbs I need to dry out for a project I have planned out. The number in my dorm has been dwindling.”

Moving besides her he sat down on the wooden walk set up to make sure no one would repeat his mistake so many years ago of mistaking where the path ended and patch started. At least that's the lie this one who thinks proper decor is bottles full of potions ultimately decided on before their scolding began. Jing Yaun’s boots making a hefty clunk as he settled down.

“And not even a drink to be had?”

“Yuan, wait until you're older. I shouldn't have to go over the repercussions of drinking before your prefrontal lobe has fully matured with you. I'll do it too.” Another huff. “It's very important for you not to touch a drop before your behavioral patterns-”

“Is this you talking or the lessons you've learned, prodigy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Plucking one of the flower's petals off she held the fragile thing up, studying the veins as she held it up to the full moon. The only source of proper lighting to be had when neither of you could afford to turn on the ones for the garden without being caught. Who knows what trouble could be had for you two from this even with her supposed foolproof excuse for being here.

“Carnations. You've probably seen a few as decorations at those fancy tea houses, the ones we've seen those Foxian ladies favoring so much. These can be used for their anti-inflammatory properties if you're in short supply of the normal pain meds the commission makes. A poor substitution in my book, but it's best to always have something extra on hand just in case.”

Raising his hands up Jing Yuan brings them together a few times in a short round of applause. She always did look so intense when bent over work tables with mixtures of all sorts at her fingertips, eyebrows knit together just as they are now. “You really do sound like a proper healer when you go off about this. Shame I know you for mainly cussing when you stub your toe.”

“A lady is allowed to express herself!”

“‘Lady.’”

“‘Cloud knight.’”

“You can't use that on me anymore now that it's true.”

It takes a moment, her eyes on him in silence before finally relenting and muttering a short “touche” he almost missed.

Taking the petal from those hands lacking the calloused his have Jing Yuan pinched it softly, trying to view the one little piece of life the same way she seemed to. A well of endless possibilities that could be made into something more than just a woman's perfume. “Say, I think it's time I cash in one of the many favors you owe me.”

“And what favor do I owe you, big guy?”

“Ah, someone's still petty I grew taller than them.” Chuckling Jing Yuan looked up from the petal to a face that still had the slightest smear of dirt on its cheek, barely seen in this lowlight. “What happened to those precious three inches you had on me?”

“It was four.”

“Three inches.”

“Well, it's perfectly normal for a young man to be tall. If anything it's just a sign you were able to grow up strong and healthy despite all the times you slid your fried cabbage on my plate.”

Something she had let him do on multiple occasions as they shared a table at either the alchemy commission when everything was stuffed full of nutrients and seemingly without a sprinkle of sugar or at his family home as Jing Yuan’s mom always slipped them an extra dessert whenever (Y/n) was over.

“Well, uh…”

‘Okay, it seems we're getting off track here.’

“You owe me for helping you escape Haize when you were thirteen.”

“No, I gave you my desserts for a week in recompense. It's been paid off already, Yuan. Try again.”

Huh. Tilting his head at that his eyes rolled up to the star covered sky. The Luofu was on its night cycle meaning they could properly see the galaxy beyond the blue hue and clouds that would be overcast during the day time.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” A hand pushed his shoulder, not nearly enough to knock Jing Yuan down to the wooden path but it had him rocking in place for a moment. Tall but lanky as a certain healer had described him, right after saying he needs to eat more, then he'd properly fill out once he ages up and grows out of the awkward teenage phase. “Just say what you want. I'm fine with you owing me for once.”

“Of course you are.”

And of course he shoved her shoulder right back.

“Can you tell me what it's like to see a mara-struck up close? If I'm to meet one in combat I should know what I'm going into, and master Jingliu can only help so much.”

‘Master has only one perspective.’

“Good to know you're not so over confident that you're rushing into battle with your sword raised for a charge. I didn't know you had a brain in there.”

“Seriously? You- Just back to my question.” Jing Yuan snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Impatient much. The thing is with your question…It's simply not a fair comparison.” She took a moment, eyes going from between him to the flowers that surrounded them. Lavender, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and so so many more. A field. And if he asked Jing Yuan was sure (Y/n) could tell him the scientific names of each one without issue. “The one's I deal with are primed for dissection, not for a fight.”

A sigh.

“But, it's not pleasant. Master had me- let me try again. You know those gingko leaves that tree in the courtyard you used to always train in? How would they slowly turn from green to yellow only to fall off soon after?”

“I would always be tasked with cleaning them up. Part of my ‘due diligence’ and training in patience. I'm pretty sure though it was just master Jingliu not wanting to clean it up herself.”

“Well,” a small giggle came from her at that, “someone needed to do it. And if I caught you sweeping I'd always fetch a broom and spend the afternoon helping you catch up on chores.”

‘And she would always hold it over my head after.’

“I loved gingko leaves when we were younger, because they made me think of you and those moments where we were threatening to hit each other over the head with those old brooms that probably couldn't even handle a single strike. I would pick one out from the dustpan and keep it stored away in one of the many pots in my room. Like they were precious.”

“Is rambling included at this time to stop and smell the roses?” He couldn't help the little grin that came to him, lips quirked up at the edges with absolutely no effort to stop it.

“Don't interrupt me if you're the one who wants an answer. No lecturer wants a student that can't shut their fucking trap.”

“Okay, okay.” Raising his hands in surrender was automatic at this point after hearing just that pissed off voice alone. “Go on, teacher.”

“Thank you. For the Reignbow Arbiter’s sake. So,” (Y/n) clapped her hands together, calling attention to herself despite the fact Jing Yuan was already paying more than enough to her, “back to my point.”

“The thing is…After my first dissection, even with master Haize watching over the entire procedure, I couldn't look at the mara-struck all at once. I was supposed to dissect it like a frog, something I've done dozens of times before, but I couldn't even just take a step back to look at the thing properly. It was a task to be objective.”

‘Couldn't look at them? Was it someone she once knew?’

“When I finally did it was at the end of the process when the master said I could wash off, and there I stood by the sink with those stupid blue rubber gloves covered in the coagulated blood of a dead body and gingko leaves.”

“I couldn't think about them the same way anymore.” Her head dropped. Eyes downcast on the very hands that had cut and opened up what was essentially, or at least should be, a corpse. “The abominations are so different from us, Yuan.”

“I know.”

Even the thought of those creatures could ruin a night like this it seems, one full of their usual antics and trouble seeking habits. The mara-struck, an inevitable fate for all Xianzhou natives if death doesn't take them first.

“Maybe you were right, maybe a drink to go with this night of celebration would have been better. Then we could be cheering about something stupid and-”

His hand was raised, reaching out to her, only stopping midway when (Y/n) glanced up at him with a disapproving stare; most likely for interrupting her or getting caught off track despite all the times she's done so to him. “And you were just getting on my case about it earlier too. Frontal lobe..something or another.” And he wiped the dirt he had been letting stick to her without a word off. The grainy texture is a sharp contrast to her own smooth skin.

“You- how long has that been there without you telling me?”

“Since you fell off the wall.”

“I didn't fall, I jumped.”

“Are you sure about that, prodigy?”

She swatted his hand away, much like she was dealing with a pesky bug flying around near her ear.

“I hope you know that when you get hurt on the field, and you inevitably will because all you knights do at one point, they will bring you back to me. When that happens, I will make sure that whatever injury you acquired will somehow end in my fellow healers being convinced they need to chop one of your limbs off due to risk of infection. You will be at my mercy, Jing Yuan.”

‘Great, another threat.’

She's made hundreds of threats since the moment they met varying from some that had Jing Yuan stumbling over himself in shock to wondering if the best she could do was smack him over the head. Especially when he's still getting taller. Who knows, maybe one of those days she'll have to ask him to lean down for her just to be met with a solid hit to the head. The thought alone had him laughing.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey! What's so funny you two bit bitch?”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

Taking one of those pink carnations Jing Yuan plucked the stem from the ground, not bothering to mind the dirt when his fingers were already dusted with it. Fragile petals and a soft hue. It truly was just a flower in his eyes, but somehow it looked like more than that as he tucked it behind (Y/n)’s ear as she scolded him for picking something without permission.

It was two years later Jing Yuan found himself holding a bouquet of the very same flowers after toiling over the best way to do this for hours, but they seemed only fitting. The shop owner he bought them from was nice enough to wrap them in those sheets of paper used for…well, decoration? And a red ribbon much like the very one in his hair.

The only difference being from when he bought them ten minutes ago to now is how the long stems had been wrangled as he clutched them tight in his sweating hand.

And her, staring up at them.

“Happy Luofu alliance day to you too.”

“You're all the way out here instead of joining in on the festivities?”

Papers were scattered all around her like a blanket on the grass, some clearly torn out from their notebooks as pages were frayed at the ends and others were slightly yellowed from years of use and spills of what is most likely more than just coffee stains. Scribbled notes that had Jing Yuan careful not to step on one and leave a footprint behind (for fear of being scolded, again) as he caught glimpses of diagrams, highlighted margins, and sketches of organs as he walked closer to her.

“There will be countless more years to spend in the Dragonvista Rain Hall. For now, I want to spend my one free day organizing my notes.” As she spoke (Y/n) lifted up the notebook that had been on her lap in the air.

“Your ‘one free day’ being a holiday you're required to take off.”

‘Yet here she is working.’

Glancing up Jing Yuan’s eyes fell on the tree she was sitting under. Foliage far from dense enough to keep the occasional sun beam peaking through the leaves as they cast golden rays on her green dress; still wearing her alchemy commission uniform, even now.

“Did you not have to be dragged to classes once kicking and screaming?”

She would even cling onto his arm, shouting for the future cloud knight to protect the poor damsel in distress from the fearsome bad guy. That being Haize as he plucked her up from the ground and carried her out of the courtyard like a disgruntled cat. Jing Yuan’s ear would be ringing for the rest of the day, but it was always worth it seeing her so pissed off after purposefully being a frustrating little brat. Teasing him like no tomorrow.

“Times change, Yuan.” She said, her words full of laughter. “Though, I did see this poster earlier about some foxian theater troupe putting on a performance. Epic of the Old Verdant House, if I remember it right.”

“That explains why we can hear drum chanting all the way out here.”

A melodic beat full of energy that matched the chatter of the crowds down below. From here he could see the lanterns hanging off of every pillar they could and tops of tents full of wares with people being waved in to 'come and see what we're selling, benefactors.’

“Sure does….say, I'm surprised you have the day off. Shouldn't an esteemed cloud knight be going around patrolling the streets to help keep the peace? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and show your dedication, yet here you are not even in uniform.”

Standing there in everyday wear without a single piece of armor Jing Yuan shifted his hanfu sleeve, the fabric stretching only to fall back as he let go. It wouldn't hinder him, but it certainly wasn't his usual garb.

“I switched out my shift with that kid you helped last week.” Though she had many patients. It wouldn't surprise him if (Y/n) had forgotten about the event entirely. Things do tend to start blurring together when it's the same day after day, or at least that's what she says. “The one who got all bruised up in training, Aiguo?”

She hummed at that, seemingly to take a moment to recall. “The blond? For a cloud knight he sure does bruise easily.”

“He does…” The flowers in his hand were only wrangled up further as this conversation continued. This was besides the point. “So, rewriting your old notes then instead of going to that performance? I might have to grab a rose so you're forced to stop and smell them.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and he had to grip onto those already wrangled stems even harder to keep himself from simply choking the words out in his haste. A few white knuckles were easy enough to stand in favor of making this right.

“It's a better use of my time then watching you try and catch a goldfish at one of those scooping games again. I'm pretty sure by the time you were out of credits to waste away the vendor and I had become dear friends.”

He couldn't help but raise a brow at that. The only reason he was trying so hard in the first place was because only a week before she was forced to get rid of her pet scorpion. Ingredients had been found in her dorm by a supervisor, and after an apparently long meeting, it was determined the thing had to go despite her begging to just let him stay in the alchemy commission.

“It was rigged.” He said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“All carnival games are rigged. That's the point.”

‘True, but at least it got her laughing. Even if it was at my expense.’

“Or, and hear me out on this, Yuan. It could also be that you just suck.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Oh you're so very welcome.” Picking some of the sheets of paper up she tucked them between the pages of her notebook. Brand new but it was already covered in dirty fingerprints. No doubt from her collecting samples to tie into the pages as he could already see some of her old notes with a dried out jimson weed (if he recalled the name correctly) pinned down with thin metal wire keeping it in place. “I just don't have the time to do this any other day.”

“So.” stepping in closer to her spot under the tree Jing Yuan kneeled before her, making sure they were eye to eye even if she wasn't paying him the same amount of attention he was her. “If I asked you to come down and watch me struggle to catch you another fish?”

“And do you have the credits to spend on something so lavish?”

“I can spare a few.”

“I…I'm busy. I want to get this done.”

“And I can get you some osmanthus jelly.” Lifting the bouquet up, Jing Yuan held it up to her, the end of the red ribbon softly swaying from the movement. “You preach to me the importance of taking a break but you can't take one yourself?”

“You know I hate when you use my words against-”

And her words were drowned out by the loud sound of an engine, of a starskiff racing on by as fast as it could go. A familiar sound that would normally have Jing Yuan nodding to himself at the sight, taking in the beauty of such skilled piloting, but right now it only had him spitting out hair from his mouth as it whipped right into his face. White filled his vision as papers flew before his very eyes. A specimen of belladonna seen for only a moment before it trailed off, caught in the strong breeze the ship kicked up.

“No! No, no, no!”

Like confetti the notes she had spent years on flew away. Not even her hands snatching to grab anything proved fruitful as she scrambled up to pluck anything from the blue sky. Her fingertips barely grazed a sheet completely covered in yellow marker over the written margins before it fell to the crowd below.

Multiple people down below dressed in their finest attire, the festival masks, and waving their fans to keep cool in the generated heat of the Luofu's system were caught looking up and around them as the notes fell all around them. Ranging from the rooftops to the streets as those years she spent were tread over with little to no care, like they were nothing more than posters advertising something or another, as (Y/n) whined at the sight.

“Fuck!”

As Jing Yuan pulled the last bits of hair from his mouth he could see her flipping off the direction the pilot flew off in, even as it was long gone.

“Fuck you you punk ass bitch! Come back here before I shove a catheter up your dick!”

“Interesting insult.”

Grabbing a sheet of parchment from the branches of the tree, only a few of them stuck in there, Jing Yuan held it out to her.

“I hate this fucking household.”

Sighing Jing Yuan looked back at the paper in his hand as she just pouted at the sight of it. There goes his chance to confess it seems. Another day then.

“Come on prodigy, I'll help you find everything we can. It doesn't matter if it means spending the entire Alliance day peaking into alleyways or climbing over crates.”

“Just another favor I'll owe you.” She grabbed the paper from him as she spoke, fingers going over that messy handwriting that was no doubt scrawled down in a rush to get everything in her mind to a proper record. “Years of work.”

“No, there's no….”

‘No need for a favor.’

“Actually.” The flowers were over by the tree now, forgotten in the midst of what just happened, but did he really need them right now? Sure, this wasn't how Jing Yuan had been wanting this to go down, but what did those hours before the mirror practicing what to say as his friend, a fellow Cloud Knight, mean in retrospect when she was pouting like this? “I'd like to cash in that favor now. I’m going to ask you something and I don't want you to immediately say no. Take your time to think about it.”

“Now that's a big ask.” She said, grip tightening a little bit more to the point the paper started to crinkle under her touch. Maybe she was worried it would grow wings and fly away on her too.

“I know.”

Grabbing her hand, careful to make sure his actions did not tear anything, Jing Yuan squeezed it softly. She had no calluses made from the efforts of swinging a blade, of wielding a weapon. No, they were soft from the amount of lotion she used from always applying some after washing her hands again and again once she was done making some new medication or concoction or another thing of the like. Somehow that made it all the easier to hold her just like this.

“The next Alliance festival, I want to go together not as friends, or two people trying to find your notes, but as eachothers date.”

“No.”

“Now that's not taking your time-”

“Ask me again later, when I'm in a better mood; and pick an event that will happen sooner than a once a year festival.”

‘Oh…. Oh!’

Squeezing her hand a bit tighter Jing Yuan asked: “will you go on a date with me sometime this month? We will have to figure something out between your busy schedule, prodigy.”

“I said, ask me later.”

“Technically it was ‘later,’ just by a few seconds.”

“This is the worst confession I have ever heard and I've seen people proposing on the medical beds when one of them is so drugged they can't even understand what is being said to them.”

After a moment she added in, “you still have to help me find my notes though, then I'll say yes. And I want a better confession too, like in those romance books. Give me a whole speech.”

“Are you seriously asking me to study those girly novels of yours?”

“Yes. Or no dice.”

“I- fine.”

‘To believe that years ago I'd cringe at the thought, but here I am agreeing to it just to satisfy this bossy woman.’

“You're always a headache.”

Later that day, after spending hours combing the city to find every last sheet they could manage, Jing Yuan tied the red ribbon around her pinky, admiring how it showed she was his as (Y/n) told him she'd find the time in her busy schedule to squeeze in one little outing.

And it was that very same hand he tied a ribbon to, that he grasped that day, the very same day he played in his head again and again with a smile that could never leave him at the memory, that is now threaded through Jing Yuan’s hair.

Tugging. Pulling. Unapologetically leaving knots he'd have to comb out later.

“Patience.”

“You've been saying that for the past ten minutes, Yuan.”

The way her voice came out slightly strained had his lips tugging up. Soft little pants he was drawing out of her from those pretty lips he yearned to kiss right now even as his own were sliding along her naked thigh. Tongue just barely lolling out to leave a small lick before retreating once again.

She'd call him a tease. Has been, actually. But Jing Yuan couldn't barely help himself when seeing her like this.

Blankets pushed off to the side and barely hanging off the edge of the bed that was cast in only the low glow of a lamp on a desk nearby. One covered in glass bottles full of things he's been warned not to touch, and he knew well enough to listen. It was enough to have his fingers gleaming as he pulled them away again.

Much to someone's dismay.

“Stop being mean to me. Please.”

Jing Yuan only hummed in response, not minding her begging much as his teeth just barely dug into her skin; the idea of leaving a mark was so, very, tempting. To know that under her skirts in the days to come would be proof of this moment in the dark.

Her thigh tensed in response, muscles flexing before falling back to a relaxed state as his lips ran over the imprints of her underwear he had been pulling and tugging at earlier left. A garment discarded as soon as his head dipped between her thighs, yet here she was urging him to give her more.

‘How greedy.’

But he is too as Jing Yuan’s cock strains against its confines. Fabric he'd usually consider loose, breathable, and easy to move in suddenly betraying him with every shift of his hips against this old mattress. Barely providing anything friction as he breathes in the scent of sex. Of slick. Of her need for him.

Just that alone had his hips bucking forward.

His gaze moved from the way she sucked his fingers in as they slid back inside her with a wet squelch up to those half lidded eyes that flicked between him and the ceiling.

“Yua-”

A chuckle fell from him as she chased after him, her breath hitching and eyes falling closed as his tongue slid between those lips he's never had a proper chance to taste before, and oh what he would do to let those legs wrap around his fluffy white head and eat a meal he's never had before for hours just to find what would make her unravel beneath him.

Would she call his name in those final moments with her toes curled the way they are now? Would she be clinging onto the sheets with a knuckle white grip? Would her chest heave as he watches those breasts still red from being tugged and teased at fall with every breath?

Yes, they were both greedy.

“I know you're doing that on purpose.” She finally managed to say between her whines and attempt to stifle them away under her free hand.

“Am I now?”

That accusatory glance had Jing Yuan curling his fingers over a soft spot that felt different from the rest, spongy even, as he tried his best to act innocent. Not very convincing when his words are muffled by her pussy, but it was a try nonetheless.

“F-fuck…”

“I can't help but think you liked that.”

It was a wonder she wasn't trying to kick him in some way, but maybe that's just because with every movement of his fingers her head was being thrown back into the white covers.

“Where do you…how do you even know where that is?”

“This?” Jing Yuan asked, fingers crooking even more by just the slightest amount to brush over that spot inside of her again.

(Y/n) didn't need to know the real answer to that, not when she wouldn't let him live it down if she ever found out. She'd get on him until his ears turned pink and she'd only make it worse by pinching them and saying something like “oh sweetie, you're looking sick. Maybe we should take your temperature, yeah?”

So no, he'd keep the fact that one of her fellow students in the alchemy commission went around to all the guys he knew were in a relationship during the mess hall. Lunch hour as silverware clattered against those metal food service plates while some young lad with a diagram of all things pointed out…well...where to touch a woman in exchange for a hundred credits in turn.

Money well spent in his opinion if it had her looking at him like that. Glazed over eyes enough to have Jing Yuan wanting to press a kiss to those soft lips. To let her know just how she tastes.

“Maybe I'm just a natural; a prodigy just like you.”

Wouldn't that be nice? To know just where to touch her to have his name cried out like a prayer. The Reignbow Arbiter an afterthought to his fingers, but he was willing to give her the rest of their lives together to figure this out. To have her melt in his embrace on all the nights they will have, just like this one where she sneaked him into her dorms.

The door didn't even creak on their way in.

He didn't even stop to do anything more than lock the door before Jing Yuan had pulled (Y/n) into his arms. Hands playing with the fabric of that green dress as it traced over the

gold accents on her chest all the way up to the clasp keeping it shut as their lips met in hurried kisses. One after another as she tugged him along through the bedroom to help keep those heavy boots of his from accidently kicking and knocking over anything of importance as they found their way between boxes of files to the bed.

Designs of swirling mist made Jing Yuan feel like he was on cloud nine as they slid up her thighs.

She rolled her eyes as he asked about her underwear, wanting to know if it was just for him. If she anticipated this happening and wanted to look her best for him.

The thought was a sweet one.

But right now that pair was tossed off somewhere long forgotten as his face was covered in her slick, and hands forcing her legs apart as she writhed beneath him.

How long could he take without breathing in some more air? The thought only came to Jing Yuan as his ears buzzed the same way they would after staying too long underwater. (Y/n) his lake he would willingly jump in even if it drowned him.

“Pr-prodigy my ass.”

A kiss to her trembling thigh, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you saying I'm not doing a good job?”

“Not at all.”

‘Sure. She's so snarky even like this.’

A whine, a plea for more met him as Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out. The curve of her plush ass he wanted to squeeze and grope at again covered in spittle and arousal just like his mouth.

Maybe if she was in a sane enough mind she'd be saying something like it's been twelve minutes now. That is if she ever got the chance as he kissed her again. Body hovering over hers, taking note of just how small she looked under him.

How easy it was to grab her wrist and pull her flush against him.

Cock brushed against her through those damnable layers of clothes Jing Yuan wore that had his head burying away in her neck to take in the scent of herbs that clung to every piece of clothing she had. Trying to bite back a groan as he did his best not to rock against her in a frenzy, but it was (Y/n) who ran a hand along his bare back and whispered in their small sanctuary of sheets and pillows “we can stop if you're nervous.”

And like an over eager fool he rushed out a no.

“No, I promise I'm fine.”

‘Worried I'll cum in under a minute, but fine.’

“Besides, you made me wait for a full year so I'm not going to pass on this now.”

“Patience,” She teased back. Hand brushing along his cheek that he couldn't help but to press a kiss to. “Besides, it seemed only right to wait until we were both adults.”

“Is this where you lord over the fact you're three years older than me again?”

Though she hasn't done that since he passed her in height, much to a certain someone's annoyance.

“Maybe.”

Tightening his grip on her waist Jing Yuan pulled her impossibly closer. Her warmth, her laugh, her hands tracing the muscles on his back she could surely name off the top of her head like it was nothing, it was all a reminder of how much he held her dear.

“Can we….”

“Start now?” That laugh again, the curl of her lips as she looked up at him through those long lashes she has cursed everytime they ‘betrayed her’ by letting something in her eyes.

“Yes.”

It was as Jing Yuan had tugged those pants down and out of the way that she grabbed his chin to lead him into a kiss. The taste of her still there, still lingering as her lips parted into a moan as for the first time it was his cock that filled her. That they were intertwined in a way that would make the Aeons themselves blush.

And it was in that moment as his hips moved to meet hers with a wet squelch that had him biting his lip not to moan too loudly and give away what they were doing to any of her neighbors in the dorms did the words I love you fill the air.

Her hands in Jing Yuan’s hair as she whispered them right back.

I love you.

That's what she said to him as the wind whipped around from an awaiting ship. Luggage in her hand as she looked back between the people on board who were walking back and forth from the dock to a place Jing Yuan couldn't see with wooden crates full of provisions. Old nails clearly being the only things keeping the boxes together as he watched the cloud knights assigned to this mission just like she was.

Blue armor much like his own, but he wasn't one of the few that were chosen for this. No, (Y/n) was. A healer is always needed.

“I shouldn't even be gone long. At most maybe a year. Maybe two.”

Far from long in the eyes of a Xianzhou native, that's for sure. The denizens of the Luofu had their lives tick by as the humans who came to the ship for trade and sightseeing grew old and suddenly stopped showing up. All due to a very obvious conclusion. But two years without her?

“Why wasn't it someone else assigned? There's always Aihan.”

“That girl? She still gets squirmish during autopsies.”

Meaning no can do.

The stomping of boots continued as men tread back and forth. Some of the knights even stopped to give Jing Yuan a respectful nod or even a wave before continuing on with their task. His brothers in arms despite the fact he wasn't going to be besides them on the field this time.

“Besides, it's only Yaguoret. This should all be wrapped up quickly. At least compared to the thirty year missions some people are assigned to.”

A shrug, like this, wasn't a big deal at all despite the fact they both have been on a battlefield now. They both knew what it was like.

“Look Yuan, I'll be back in two years at max and when I arrive in your awaiting arms,” her hand slid along the blue fabric of his uniform, playing with the material she had sewed back together for his time and time again, “you can keep me all to yourself for a week. Just you, I, cute dates or… other things.”

“Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Two weeks, prodigy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before she finally sighed, shoulders dropping for only a moment.

“Fine, two weeks. I'll be all yours.”

Grabbing her hand, Jing Yuan locks their pinkies together. Silly, childish really, but it always worked when they were younger. Though it was mainly her wrangling him into compliance.

“Promise me.”

“I-I…..promise.”

So why was he now sitting in her room staring up at Jingliu listening to his master say something he never thought would be uttered?

The file boxes had been taken away, the bottles that had once reflected his own golden eyes back to him as Jing Yuan asked about the contents now missing, even the terrarium for Ingredients (Y/n) never bothered to get rid of was gone like it never existed in the first place. The dorm room is bare, hollow of the personality it had accrued over years of use.

Photos of them ripped from the walls leaving dark squares from the sun aging the wallpaper that once framed those cherished memories.

“What do you mean she's been exiled?”

“I mean exactly what I say, Jing Yuan. Miss (Y/n) of the alchemy commission, student to cauldron master Haize, has been exiled from the Luofu.”

Jingliu's hand moved to rest on the empty desk, brushing over the dust that had accumulated during the past three months that no one had properly cleaned this room. It was always something he intended to do, to keep up with making sure this place was as spotless as he could make it so she wouldn't come back to dust bunnies and a fit of sneezes, but work had been suddenly thrown onto him like something was amiss. Something massive had obviously happened, but he knew better than to ask when every time those who talked about it would shut their mouths the second even a wisp of his hair was seen.

“The fact she wasn't sentenced to death is a surprise.”

Because of course no one would want to talk to him about his own partner being….

“This is a mistake!”

Getting up from bed that creaked under him from the sudden movement Jing Yuan stood before his master, eyebrows pinched together to keep himself from outwardly scowling at the woman he owes so much to after years of training with the sword.

“You know her just as well as I do! She never would have hurt anyone like this.”

“When I knew (Y/n) best was when she was a fledgling. A kid, just as you are now. Letting your emotions blind your view of the truth will do nothing to help you.”

“I've known her for fifteen years. There's no way the same woman I know who takes spiders outside after finding them would be capable of murdering a hundred knights.”

(Y/n) can't even hold a sword properly. She is a healer, a woman who makes mixtures and applies bandages. Who presses kisses to his wounds as Jing Yuan tries to brush them off like they're nothing to avoid the bitter sting of hydrogen peroxide she would mercilessly apply to him with a smile like nothing was wrong. A woman like that holds no contest to men trained for combat. Some of those men that were sent out even had hundreds of years under their belt.

“Even if she poisoned them?”

Jing Yuan hissed out a breath at that, jaw tensed just the same way it would when the antiseptic met his braised skin.

“She's…she may be capable but that doesn't mean-”

“After the soldiers died the effects started to show in the village people that lived on Yaguoret. Even cauldron master Haize said it was the same symptoms the corpses of the cloud knights seemed to have gone through.”

Jingliu pulled her hand back from the desk, a small coating of dust on her fingers she brushed off.

“Haize has done everything he can with what he has, but the people native to that planet keep dropping faster than he can try and make new remedies.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, like Jingliu was waiting for Jing Yuan to finish what she was trying to say himself, but he bit his tongue. Refused to use it. He wouldn't say the words aloud.

“Only your partner would know the best way to go about making a poison that her own master could not find an antidote, or whatever those alchemy commission bunch need, to stop this issue in time.”

“The elders have decided this will be written off as a plague. That will be what is documented as to keep Haize from having his position looked at with suspicion, but he will be on thin ice from here on.”

What Jingliu wasn't saying is: it's a wonder the man is keeping his job at all.

“This isn't possible.”

‘She wouldn't do anything to risk her…and the promise.’

As it felt like his chest was being clawed at by an invisible hand winding its way through his mouth, past Jing Yuan throat, and ripping his lungs apart to grasp at his heart Jingliu placed a letter in his lap. The envelope it was in clearly had been torn open, but it was his name on the white parchment with the ‘I’ dotted with a heart.

Somehow the sight of it made it even harder to breathe.

“She left this behind for you, clearly. When they were cleaning out her room trying to find evidence that was stumbled upon.”

That would explain why her room is so empty.

The words why is it open then we're right on the tip of his tongue, but they both already knew the answer to that.

“Do you know its contents?”

Jingliu nodded at that, not saying a word as her red eyes flicked down to the torn apart packaging of something that was supposed to be meant for only him.

“Does it mention…”

‘Does it mention why?’

“It's best you read it yourself if you want to know.”

It was the force of habit alone that had Jing Yuan nodding as he was given one last glance by his master before she left him alone. Most likely he can process this thing on his own, but just the sight of it, the idea of what's inside, made him feel sick. Hell, he was half tempted to burn it and throw the ashes of what's left out the window so he can watch them dance on the wind the same way those specimens of belladonna and jimson weed got carried away.

Swallowing down the taste of bile licking at his tongue, Jing Yuan folded up the envelope and tucked it away in his uniform.

That… can be saved for another day.

A day for centuries later.

A day for when he was stopped short as a bird flew down and nestled upon the crook between his shoulder and golden armor piece strapped down to Jing Yuan's arm. Little chirps filled his ears as he walked through the streets of the Luofu. Sing song, a perfect background to his afternoon stroll as the few people he passed by on this path he's memorized after years of use bowed their heads.

Surely, if it wasn't for the upkeep on the potholes or cracks in the sidewalk he would have worn the shape of his boots into the white concrete long ago.

Another chirp and Jing Yuan looked down at the red beaked creature with a lazy smile. These things were always so comfortable with him, to the point he's even gotten a few comments from Fu Xuan about being a Disney princess. Something he just nods along with without complaint.

It was amusing how much his acceptance seemed to annoy her.

“Now, now, if you're too loud you might make this old man lose even more of his heari….”

His hearing.

But there he was stopped short, one foot in the air waiting to follow along the path only he knows the exact details of even as people try to record the goings and happenings of the Dozing General. Frozen in space, in time, like it was ice that kept him stock still and not a single image that came onto one of those many blue screens depicting today's news.

The words wanted written right under the white and red pictures of Blade, Kafka, and a woman Jing Yuan never thought he'd see again.

That old ache blooming in his chest again like a flower in a patch of dirt just waiting to be watered as her eyes were revealed to him. Even in a drawing meant to capture her image they never changed.

Teasin, inquisitive, and seemingly filled with thoughts he never had the neverending years to dig into like he was planting his own garden.

Wanted Stellaron Hunters.

Turning on his heel the bird that was nestled against him flew off, its wings flapping away as it took flight, and he was left to stride out of Starskiff Haven with his boots thudding their way back to the Seat of Divine Foresight as Jing Yuan tried with all his restraint not to break out into a full out run.

“You're dismissed,” is all he said as he entered those old walls, loud and clear for everyone inside to hear.

Heads turned his way, some immediately moved to leave, and the blond rascal of a kid he was so fond of came up to him only to hold his tongue as he saw the look on Jing Yuan’s face. A “very well, general,” threw his way as Yanqing followed everyone else out.

Jing Yuan didn't even notice the glance back to him as the doors shut.

Now it was just him standing there on the giant board surrounded by blue holograms, banners hanging from the beams up above, scrolls stored away in their exact places, and the lion statues he himself commissioned to be built in this place.

All alone.

Just like he was with a letter he never wanted to read as his feet carried him to that desk he hovers over day after day. Fingers moving along the smooth bottom to press a button that forced a drawer open. Thin, barely able to contain anything at all. When he first got this piece and requested such an addition the odd looks didn't bother him much, not when the carpenter didn't need to know what it was for. As far as he cared the simple phrase ‘official documents’ would have held enough weight.

But it wasn't some folder filled with the Xianzhou Luofu's darkest secrets, well, not fully anyway. Rather, it was a torn open envelope and the messy scrawl of his name.

‘Jing Yuan’ staring back at him.

Even after all these years later and his memories fade in favor of a blanket of mist keeping all those years locked away, he knew well enough she didn't like to refer to him that way.

It was Yuan.

It was her Yuan.

The paper felt odd in his hands, despite the amount of times he's pulled it out and debated opening the thing before it fades away to dust, like it was brand new. A clean sheet of paper despite it no doubt having passed through multiple hands before something that was rightfully his possession fell into his grasp for the first time. Fingers teasing over the ripped envelope as he pushed it aside and pulled out a folded note.

It wouldn't be too late to back out now, just how he has done a hundred times before as he failed to bite the bullet even his old master was able to, but then the image of her flashed in his mind again. The wanted poster was an accurate portrait, but it still felt like a character compared to the memories that were like a migraine that never ceased to ache.

‘Evolution didn't choose you, short stuff.’

‘Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses?’

‘I don't care if I'm busy, I'll find the time to go on that date with you. I promise.’

‘I love you.’

‘I'll be back in two years.’

A whirlwind of moments together, of her words, that had him just barely creasing the note.

The thought that she promised to come back quickly buried away as he, for the first time, unfolded the note he's kept all these years without her by his side.

‘Dear Yuan,

I have drafted this letter over ten times now and I can't quite seem to get the beginning of this right, so I think it's best just to get into the thick of things. You agree, yes? I hope you do.

I'm sure the news of what has happened (or is about to happen, if you're looking from my point of view) has reached you now. Is this a shock beyond words or did a part of you know this was going to happen? We do tend to let our unconscious selves be quieted and hushed away by emotions. Such is the way of any sentient creature whose instincts do not drive them. But you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me this was not something you would fully deny being something I am capable of if you weren't driven right now by what I can only guess is…betrayal.

I didn't mean to be your first heartbreak, my Yuan. No, I never wanted that at all. I wanted things to stay just the way they were when you'd take that wooden sword of yours when Jingliu hadn't yet given you permission to wield a real one and chase me around with it because I teased you too much. Or maybe back when we would turn rocks over a day after it rained so we can try and find bugs together.

Oh Yuan, I could list countless moments I wish time had chosen to freeze us both in so this outcome never had to come to pass.

But it did.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry for my actions.’

The words ‘I can't afford to be’ were crossed out.

‘Do you remember that night when we snuck into the gardens? I do. Very well at that. I hope you do too, just for different reasons. That night to me was being with you, of enjoying our time, until you brought up the mara-struck. Those creatures that plague us all at the end of our lives like a withering flower bound to end up as nothing more than a husk of itself as its body is preserved much like that one I keep with a red ribbon tied around it (the one you gave me when you tried to ask me out like a bumbling mess) pressed between pages as it's currently being used as a bookmark. The abominations, they have made me realize something you might not have yet.

Maybe those three years I have on you really do mean more than I would care to admit. Maybe in three years time when you are at the age I am now you'll realize this for yourself too. This war is never going to end. This war will taint what is beautiful in the world. We were blessed to have a loll in the time we were growing up, but that is only because of the sacrifices of many given for such peace.

But still, many died when our eyes were blinded by youth.

And when the battles did come you were a guard on some street in the Luofu as I was called out of my dorm to treat the few men who came back from their efforts in the middle of the night. Blearly, I was lacking sleep, but I did my job just as I always have. That is what I told myself when I had to dissect my first body at the age of fifteen. ‘Do your job, girly’ despite the fact I was surrounded by those older than me and even they cringed as Haize yanked some pubic hair from a corpse to store into a plastic bottle for proper collection.

It took a while for them to forget this thing before them, this hunk of meat, was dead and therefore couldn't feel pain. It took me a while too.

Back to the men…They would come in covered in blood, scratches that were left by creatures I never would have dreamed of existing before until they told me about them as I figured out all on my own how to detach a chewed up limb from a man without making it too painful.

They still passed out in the end.

One day you will know war, you will know what it's like to be on the battlefield for more than a skirmish, you will know the smell of the dead as all their bowels release and the smell of shit fills the air, just as I do now after having been called to be a medic in those poorly put up tents behind the fighting men.

Yet I don't want people to have to know about war. I don't want you to know about war despite you jumping at every chance to prove yourself as a Cloud Knight. I don't want those people of Yaguoret to know about war as we descended on their planet. But it is inevitable. They are a poor people who know little of what to do with the land they possess, and we are a civilization that sees their planet for the resources it has.

It was already discussed after the first talks with the people there after they turned away our offers of trade that they needed to be…wiped out.

Children, mothers, fathers who can't even put up a proper fight, let alone to a Cloud Knight.

So if you are wondering if I killed our men, the very people we talked with in the mess hall, or annoyed on the training grounds, or that I bandaged in the past, then I have to tell you I will.

They won't survive, of course they won't. What kind of prodigy would I be if I couldn't make a simple poison that would properly kill a man? Or a good hundred.

Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes now. Force of habit.

There will be no war if the people trying to make a war are dead.

There is no way to enact change without sacrifices. That is how medicine is made. First someone must come to you with an issue, a sickness, and it is their loss of life that allows you to test the boundaries of this illness.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will soon become a murderer.

Somehow I am calm, at ease, yet the most scared I have ever been in my life.

But I have cast aside my alchemy commission uniform. Green never was my color.

I am no longer a healer. A murderer cannot claim that title.

So, as I said before, I won't apologize for my actions, but I'm sorry I had to face this world before you did, to come to my own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if I was younger, if I didn't have those three years on you, if we could find our own conclusions together. Ones that we could support side by side that wouldn't result in this.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is-’

And the last words, with a dried teardrop smearing the letters so they were barely legible as Jing Yuan had to narrow his eyes to read.

‘I am sorry I grew up without you.’

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hoyoverse #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #fem reader #x reader #steamy #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai sr x you #smut #banner by cafekitsune

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natashasdetka · 3 months

Text

Blood or Loyalty

Pairing — Rhaenyra Targaryen x Queensguard Fem!Reader and Alicent Hightower x Kingsguard Fem!Reader's Twin

Word Count — 1,254

Request — Yes or No

Hi how have you been

I have a story that I think will be interesting if you don’t mind writing it

so if have watched the latest episode of HOD then you know the twin ser arryk was sent to pretend to be his brother ser errik so he can murder the queen but in the fanfic idea I have the reader has a twin who stayed back in kings landing with the greens because she’s in love with Alicent, but aegon sends the reader’s twin to dragon stone to pretend to be the reader and kill rhaenyra and you can decide how it ends

Does she die or does she catch on

Summary — Having to face your twin with your sword pointing at her and vice versa. Will your moral and loyalty for the rightful heir Queen Rhaenya will falter while trying to stop your beloved twin from harming the Queen?

Warnings — violence, anxiety attack, and breaking down

A/N — hi, yes, im back after years of hiatus T_T and im here again because of House of the Dragon omg i just love this series so much and tbh i still haven't watched any episodes on season 2 since im still waiting for it to finish hehe BUT i've seen some clips so i have bit of an idea about the request. what team are y'all on? im team black since day 1 !!!

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. i do not own any of the characters.

It is currently a slow night for you as you are patrolling the castle grounds, clad in your full armor while clutching the hilt of your sword that you named, ‘Porphura Hexen.’ Whereas ‘Porphura’ means purple, which is associated with “nobility, power, and ambition” while ‘Hexen’ comes from how people make rumors about you practicing witchcraft because of the unexplainable deaths of the men that tried to win your heart, where it's a guarantee that they will meet their demise. It's either they die on battlefields, catch a sickness that does not have a cure, or even how the family of those men slowly lose their riches and connections.

You were looking over the castle's embrasure when you heard unusual heavy footsteps that you hadn't heard ever since Queen Rhaenyra made you her Queensguard. You quickly unsheathed ‘Porphura Hexen’ as you stealthily followed the noise, you immediately quickened your pace when you heard Queen Rhaenyra's soft voice saying your name. You immediately barged into her room, and there, you saw your twin sister clutching her sword tightly and pointing its tip toward the Queen.

“Sestra!” You called your twin in your native language.

Without hesitation, you charged forward with your sword to attack your twin to take her attention off the Queen. She instantly turned your way and blocked your attack.

“What are you doing, sestra?!” You shouted at her trying to put some sense in her head.

“King's order! This is the King's order!” She shouted back at you as she was trying to prevent your sword from getting close to her neck.

“King's order, my arse! Stop this madness now! Are you out of your mind for trying to harm the rightful heir of the Iron Throne?!” You screamed at her as you put your strength on your legs so you could stand your ground and let the Queen run out of the room.

“My Queen! Go! Leave the room!” You said as you pushed your sister's body far from the Queen's way with the help of the force from your legs.

You heard your sister's body crash on a shelf which made the books fall on top of her head. So, you immediately went to your Queen's side and helped her up so she could escape the room along with the servant who got involved in the mess.

“Go, My Queen. I'll handle this,” when Rhaenyra was about to run along with the servant next to her, you reached for her wrist and gave her your dagger, quietly exchanging silent stares, “Take this. Be careful…my Queen.”

You didn't wait for Rhaenyra's response as you immediately dodged an attack from your twin when she aggressively swung her sword at you.

“Go! Alert the guards!” You felt guilty for trying to order the Queen but it will always be your mission to guarantee the Queen's safety, no matter what.

Once you were sure that the Queen had a safe distance from your twin, you gave all your focus towards her and only deflected her attacks to you.

After a minute of only deflecting your twin's attacks, she cornered you into a corner with her blade's tip pointing at your neck, “Sestra…we should be in this together. You and I, just like the old times. We're born together, aren't we?” she tried to convince you.

“This isn’t just about the King's order…isn't it?” You asked, staring right into her eyes. Ever since the both of you are young gals, she can never hide the way her eyes falter when it is faced with your own piercing eyes.

She avoided your gaze, “It's about the Queen Dowager, ain't it?” She remained silent, only her shaky breaths indicated that your guess was right. “She's only using you, sestra!”

“My affairs with the Queen Dowager aren't and shouldn't be any of your concern,” she raised her voice a little bit when you spoke the truth.

“Not my concern? Have you gone mad?!” You looked at her with anger, not seeing the person in front of you as your twin sister anymore. You scoffed while frowning at her, “Just like the old times, huh? We took an oath! A vow, sestra! We are to fulfill our sacred duty To protect and serve the realm! Where have your honor and morals gone to, huh? They usurped Queen Rhaenyra's throne! The rightful heir!”

You sighed, leaned your head on the wall behind you, “Sestra…” Your twin whispered as she slowly lowered her blade pointing at your neck.

You looked straight into her eyes, “We were born together, weren't we?” You said as you swiftly plunged your extra dagger into your twin's stomach, “You parted us…you forgot your oath, our vow, sestra.”

You watched her fall on her knees with blood coming out of her mouth and eyes going dull in seconds, “But I still love you, sestra.”

A thud was heard when your twin's body completely fell on the floor, her eyes looking at you with a lone tear streaming down to her cheek and the stone-cold floor.

You fell on your knees as you stared at her cold dead body. You heard multiple footsteps entering the room but you only focused on your twin's form as you slowly closed her lifeless eyes.

You took a deep sigh as you stood up with a grunt whilst picking up your sword. You faced the small council that gathered in the room with only their sleeping garments, “The assassinator of the Queen that was sent by The Greens has been exterminated.” You reported to them.

You swallowed deeply when you felt the urge to sob, but not here. Not in front of them. As the small council kept on discussing the event that happened, Rhaenyra only stared at you. She saw how your hands were quivering while trying to calm them by gripping your sword's hilt.

Rhaenyra cleared her throat, and the small council immediately turned silent, “Ser Y/N, you're dismissed. You've done enough for the day.”

You immediately turned your head at the Queen, “But, My Queen. With all due respect, as your Queensguard, it is my dut–”

“I am fully aware of what your duty is, Ser Y/N” Rhaenyra took a deep breath, “As my Queensguard, I need you on your best. So, please, take a rest. At least, just for a while.”

“We will still need you, Ser Y/N,” Rhaenys, Ser Corlys's wife, added.

Ser Alfred approaches you and pats your shoulder, “I'll take care of the things here myself. Now, in the meantime, take a rest.”

You sighed as most of the votes were against you staying around the small council. So, you dismissed yourself and went straight ahead to your room.

As you entered your room, you carefully took off your silver armor on your body and placed it neatly on its storage. You took your bloodied dagger as you sat on the edge of your bed.

The moment you sat on your bed, your twin’s voice rang inside your head, “Sestra, you…a-are always the better between the both of us. K-Keep believing y-yourself…and keep p-protecting the Q-Queen…Rhaenyra. I love you…” Your twin sister breathed her last breath after saying her last words.

You sighed deeply as you stood up and took a damp cloth to clean your dagger. As you are cleaning your sharp dagger, you feel your tears falling onto your hands. Soft sobs rang inside your room as you broke down behind closed doors, missing your twin's presence more than ever.

338 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 6 months

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (17)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, swearing, violence ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Although she feared that her father and mother would hate her, although she suffered at the thought of losing her unborn sister, the day after they returned to King's Landing was the most beautiful day of her life.

After their nightly honest and painful conversation, at last they both shook off the burdens they had carried on their shoulders for so many years, confessing their regrets and thoughts to each other.

After this, there was some kind of change in her husband, as if he had expected this conversation to destroy everything once and for all, to turn them away from each other, when in fact the complete opposite had happened.

It helped.

When he took her on the table that afternoon, when she felt his thirsty, tender touch on her body, she thought that at last things were as they should be.

And then he smiled, lightly and sincerely for the first time since she had seen him years later.

Although they waited in dread for an answer from Dragonstone, this period was also a time of hope for them; the prospect of a peaceful resolution despite the approach of his grandfather and mother filled them with a reasonable calm that allowed them to take a breath.

They did everything they could.

No matter what she thought of her usurper uncle, he, unlike their grandfather, had imposed fair conditions on her mother, ones that she could in fact agree to.

The next day, like every morning, her husband was training in the courtyard with Criston Cole. Although she had been reluctant to poke her nose out of her chamber for the past few days, she now felt better and, encouraged by the beautiful cloudless sky lit by the sun, decided to go outside.

At this hour, as usual, the Red Keep seemed unusually quiet and peaceful to her, with only the guards and servants walking hurriedly past her, trying to keep up with their duties without even noticing her.

She smiled involuntarily when she heard the loud clang of steel and spotted them in the distance walking under the cloisters, just as she had then, as a child, watched her uncle duel. She thought with some kind of pride, watching the sure, swift slashes of his sword, that only Daemon could now match him in hand-to-hand combat.

She felt a pleasant satisfaction at the sight of her uncle pushing against Ser Criston, leaving no one under any illusion as to who was dominating the duel.

Cole knew that her husband had taken it out on him for what he had done to her and forced him to give in every time.

She lifted her chin higher, sighing contentedly as the blade of his sword pressed against his neck, Cole raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Her uncle turned the hilt of his sword in his hand and lowered it, a dangerous grin full of mockery and satisfaction on his lips; he stopped in mid-motion, his eye spotting her in the distance, seeming not to recognise her at first. He blinked, watching her from afar.

Encouraged by his attention, she walked down the stone steps into the courtyard, squinting, blinded from the sun; her husband stabbed his sword into the ground, coming towards her with a lazy step.

"What is it?" He asked uncertainly, his face expressing concern and surprise, his eye wide open, as if he could not believe she had left her chamber of her own accord.

"I have always enjoyed watching you duel. Does my husband deny me that pleasure?" She asked softly; she saw his Adam's apple wave as he swallowed hard, his lips parted slightly.

"Tis not my desire." He hummed, and she felt a pleasant shiver run along her spine at his words.

She felt as if they were children again.

There was something wonderful about it, something joyful, something that made her feel a renewed desire to live.

She trembled when he tentatively raised his hand, when his fingers touched her cheek, when his thumb ran over her jawline, his eye watching her thoughtfully.

When he leaned in, when he pressed his warm lips to hers in a soft, wet kiss she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen, her heart sang with pleasure, her fingers touched his wrist.

He pulled away from her, looking at her with misty gaze; she could smell his sweat, hear his quiet murmur of contentment as she stroked his cheek with her palm, when her lips placed a soft, butterfly kiss on the tip of his nose.

She knew that Criston Cole, the guards, the servants could see this and it delighted her most.

Though distrustful at first, she agreed after her husband's persuasion to accept an invitation from her uncle to dine with him and Helaena in his chamber.

She felt that in doing so, Aegon was creating a faction inside the faction, showing his mother and grandfather that the fate of what was about to happen no longer lay in their hands.

Although she believed that Alicent did in fact want to protect her children, she did not trust their grandfather and knew that Aegon had no love for him either.

As it turned out, his invitation had a double bottom.

"Furious Borros Baratheon is on his way to King's Landing with his daughter, whom he expects and agrees you should marry. I fear he will regard your secret marriage as invalid and demand that you fulfil your vows." Said her uncle, putting himself a bit of roast from the tray, handing it to his sister-wife, who looked at her uncertainly.

She felt her heart begin to pound like mad, terrified, and looked out of the corner of her eye at her husband, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"It's out of the question." He said coolly, and she felt instant relief at the thought that he hadn't changed his mind.

That he wouldn't betray her.

"I am aware of that, however, the matter is delicate and complicated. I have decided, on the advice of my wife, to simplify it. Today you will marry in the presence of the Septon."

She and her husband looked at each other in shock; the loud conversations of servants and guards could be heard from behind the open window. Aegon took a deep sip of wine from his cup, putting it down on the table with a loud clink of steel.

"The King and Queen will witness your wedding. The Septon will write a proper marriage act, which he will sign under threat of losing his head. This will officially settle the matter and enrage Borros Baratheon, but it will also surprise him. I will then offer him a seat on the Small Council for his son and financial compensation, which you, my brother, will cover from your annual income."

Said her uncle; she heard her husband turn in his chair beside her with a loud creak of wood and nod, swallowing hard, playing with his cup in his hand.

She glanced up at Aegon and frowned as she saw their eyes meet; she lowered her gaze immediately, thinking with disapproval that although part of her abhorred him, it was only because of him that there was any hope for her and his brother.

"Do you love him?" She heard his impassive, calm voice, saw Helaena and her husband move uneasily in their seats.

"− Aegon −"

"I am not speaking to you." He replied coldly to his brother, looking at her, stretched out comfortably in his chair.

She looked at him in disbelief and swallowed loudly, feeling her lower lip begin to tremble, tears of pain gathering in the corners of her eyes at his question.

Gods.

"I stayed here for him. I gave myself to him." She muttered regretfully; Helaena quickly grabbed her hand lying on the table, squeezing it in her own.

"My brother has been calling you a little whore all these years. He used to say: she surely fucks with her guards like her pathetic mother." He said softly, cocking his head, curious about her reaction. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that her husband had covered his face with his hand, devastated, his sister cast him a quick, sharp look full of regret.

She involuntarily chuckled at his words, feeling the pleasant evening breeze flowing in through the open windows envelop her heated cheeks.

"I am aware of it. He shared those very thoughts with me the very first evening when we spoke to each other years later." She sneered; Aegon burst out laughing loudly, placing a hand on his stomach, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Indeed, it sounds like something my younger brother would do."

After her uncle shared the details of his plan and informed them of the location of their clandestine meeting, they returned to their chambers to prepare. Her husband escorted her to the door, tense; she could feel that what had been said filled him with anxiety.

"Do you still wish to do this?" He asked in a hoarse voice, as if he thought what he had thought of her over the years and what she had learned might have influenced her decision.

"And has anything changed, uncle?" She answered question for question; she saw that he threw her an impatient look in which relief lurked at the same time.

"No."

"Then you have your answer."

As promised, Helaena brought her one of her rich gowns; being a prisoner in King's Landing, she only had a few of her garments, as the rest of them were left in Dragonstone. Her aunt helped her comb her hair, forming a bun from some of the curls at the nape of her head, surrounded by braids, letting the rest flow freely down her back.

The gown she'd brought her was gold, with open, exposed shoulders and wide sleeves slit at elbow height, its cut perfectly emphasising her pleasing figure. Looking at herself in the mirror, watching as she put pins with gold pearls into her hair, she thought that this was not how she had imagined her wedding day, but she felt happiness nevertheless.

She knew that this time it would look the way it should.

Her aunt had put a plain grey cloak over her shoulders and placed a hood over her head, hiding her attire that might arouse suspicion. Looking straight into her eyes, she thought with warmth in her heart, squeezing her hand in her own, that during this time she had been watching over her, being there for her during the hardest moments of her life.

"I am grateful to you for everything you have done for me. I wish your husband would give you what you deserve." She muttered, stroking her skin with her thumb, wanting to show her in any way that she also wanted her happiness. Helaena stroked her shoulders, turning her head, her gaze dreamy and calm, her lips curved in a gentle smile.

"He is the father of my children." She said softly, folding her hands on her womb, looking somewhere far away thoughtfully. "And it is only the fate of our children that matters."

They left her chamber together, not speaking to each other, heading ahead along the corridor; just as they suspected, they came across guards who wanted to know where the princess was taking the prisoner.

"To the King, as ordered by him."

"Queen Alicent has commanded that she not leave her chamber after dark."

"I am the Queen, Ser."

The guard swallowed loudly, looking at his companion, and then nodded, letting them pass.

Helaena grasped her hand, turning suddenly, leading her down a steep staircase into an underground lit only by barely smouldering torches.

It was rare for anyone to go down there, judging by the smell she concluded it was a former larder. She shuddered as she heard a rat run past her feet and swallowed loudly, wondering how Aegon had found this place and what he was doing here.

After a moment they emerged from the dark corridor into one of the chambers where she spotted three figures − a man of similar age to their grandfather dressed in modest grey robes tied at the waist with a cord, next to him stood Aegon and her husband. She swallowed loudly seeing his attire.

He wore a dark red tunic with gold ornaments in the shape of writhing dragon heads, she had never seen him in such colours before.

Neither Green nor Black, just like her.

Their marriage was supposed to be beyond division, a symbol of reconciliation.

For some reason she felt distress and anxiety, as if this was indeed her first wedding; her hands trembled as she untied the knots of the cloak she had pulled off with the help of her aunt, her golden gown shining in the firelight. She saw her uncle-husband's pupil narrow at this sight; he swallowed hard, trailing his gaze across her entire figure, tense.

She looked uncertainly at Helaena, and she nodded, so she gathered her courage and moved ahead, this time of her own accord, fully aware of what this entailed by going to marry the man she thought she had lost forever.

She involuntarily breathed through her mouth as she stepped in front of him, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous gesture, looking straight into his eyes.

The expression on his face a mystery to her, his gaze seeming to almost burn her, piercing and dark.

She felt the Septon cast an uncertain glance in Aegon's direction; he nodded, ordering him to begin. The man grunted quietly and turned to her husband.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."

She saw her uncle swallow heavily, turning towards his elder brother, who handed him a golden cloak embroidered in shiny red thread with their family crest. With a sweeping gesture, her uncle placed the cloak over her shoulders; she was unable to look away from his face, hearing in her mind his words spoken in rage to her father.

She is my wife.

Who her father was no longer matters, for she belongs now to my family, for our children will bear my name.

She heard him swallow hard, clearly filled with extreme emotion as much as she was – she sighed as he took her hand in his, lifting it up.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

Said the Septon tying their entwined hands with a ribbon, thus symbolically uniting them for eternity.

She could not believe that this was really happening.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words." Said the Septon lowly, and they looked at each other, breathing loudly, clutching their fingers tightly.

"Father,

Smith,

Warrior,

Mother,

Maiden,

Crone,

Stranger

I am hers | I am his

and she is mine | and he is mine

from this day, until the end of my days."

They both fell silent, hearing the echo of the words they had spoken spread around them, looking at each other in disbelief.

She could see that his lower lip was trembling, his nostrils twitching in accelerated breath, his eye wide open, red with emotion.

He should say that he was sealing the marriage with his kiss, but it seemed to her that he was unable to get anything out.

He was moved.

This thought, the thought that he really craved this, that he had really waited for her for so many years, hating and desiring her at the same time made warm tears one after another flow down her cheeks; she pressed her lips into a thin line feeling her breasts rise and fall in quick, ragged breaths.

And then he did something she hadn't expected, which was sweeter and more tender to her than any kiss.

He drew her to him, locking her in a desperate, strong embrace of his arms; his fingers dug into her skin hidden beneath the thin material of her gown, cuddling his face into the hollow of her neck.

They were husband and wife.

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writing-intheundercroft · 23 days

Text

Ser Freckles // S. Sallow

Rating: T

WC: 2,743

Summary: As heir to the throne, the princess takes appointing her sworn protector very seriously.

A/N: Submitted as part of a writing challenge because I'm a glutton for starting AU projects. inspired heavily by HOTD (I've been looking for an excuse to use the name Gawayne). Much love to the pals who keep Knight!Seb living in my brain <3

“Now that you are of age, and officially the heir to the throne, it’s time you appoint your first sworn sword.”

She looked up to Fig as they walked down the stone stairs, the excited chatter from the courtyard echoing off the walls. Fig had been her tutor all her life, and only now did she realize her lessons with him had a greater purpose. She was the only daughter of the king’s dearly departed brother, a king who lacked any heirs of his own. And now that she’d turned eighteen, with no hopes for a male cousin in sight, she had been formally invested as the heir apparent.

Fig was no lowly court tutor, she realized. He’d been placed with her from her youth, preparing her for what had seemed like a distant possibility that she might one day become queen. Lord Eleazar Fig, a member of the King’s Counsel, had been priming her to take power all along.

”I’m not sure why I can’t keep Lady Singer,” she mumbled, kicking her skirts as they continued their descent. “She’s been my guardian for as long as I can remember.”

”Lady Singer is a governess,” Fig reminded her. “And in no way capable of being your sworn protector. The young man you choose today will become a knight, sworn to your king's guard. Can you remind me what the function of your king's guard is?”

”My queen’s guard,” she snipped, emphasizing the word, “will protect my counsel and me from harm, as well as my future heirs.”

“Precisely, Princess.” Fig smiled. “It’s largely a symbolic role considering the relative peace our realm has seen this past one hundred years, even more so with the city watch taking guard of the castle. But the king—er, queen’s guard is a deep rooted tradition each house takes very seriously. The gentlemen we’ve assembled today for your selection come from some of the great houses of the realm. Others have been lauded for their bravery and skill in the battlefield.”

The princess and Lord Fig walked to the balcony, the crowd below falling into silence. There were six men (boys, she observed, especially considering she’d grown up with four of them around court) standing in the courtyard below. They all wore gleaming armor, save for the last, wearing a dull set without embellishments. Each had a pennant with their house sigil, members of their families standing behind them. The animals on each pennant were embroidered with gleaming metallic thread–lions, eagles, badgers, and snakes taking center, representing the great houses each family bowed to.

Lord Fig took her hand, helping her stand on a stool to catch a better glimpse of her future knight.

”The first proposed candidate is Ser Leander Prewett,” Fig stated loudly. “Ser Leander is the second son of Lord Lyonel Prewett. He is a fine duelist, trained by one of the land’s most notable swordsmen.”

She cocked her brow, observing the redhead below. Tall, lithe, with a glorious mane of red hair.

”And rather shit on a horse,” she muttered under her breath. “Did you see him in the last tourney?”

”Horsemanship is not a requirement of a knight, Princess.” Fig muttered.

”He truly had no idea if he was facing the front, or the back.” She joked.

Lord Fig concealed his laugh in a cough. He waved his arm, and Leander’s gleaming smile vanished into a rather sour expression as the next option stepped forward.

”Ser Garreth Weasley,” Fig announced. “The third son of Lord Gwayne Weasley.”

”I know Ser Garreth well,” she smiled demurely. “Is it not one of the oaths as my queen’s guard to take no wife, have no children, and to be sworn to uphold the duties of the crown until death or dismissal?”

”It is, Princess.”

She clicked her tongue. “I know very well my dear friend Lady Natsai would be quite upset if I took her beloved to my service. I’d rather see the two of them happily married than split apart by duty.” She waved him backwards, knowing Natty would be pleased. Garreth stepped back, cheeks red, but a relieved look on his face.

“The next option is Ser Amit Thakkar,” Fig looked down at his notes. “Son of the Dowager Lady Tara Thakkar. No notable tourney experience, he’s been—“

”Away for his studies in the new world,” the princess interjected. “I know Ser Amit quite well. Tell me, Ser, how was your research on the skies? Anything new to report?”

“I’ve identified at least twelve constellations once lost to our maesters,” Amit announced excitedly. “And I do look forward to finding more.”

She tilted her head to Fig, eyebrows raised. “I do believe Ser Amit’s talents are better used with the college of maesters, rather than as a member of my queen’s guard.”

”Moving on,” Fig tutted. “Ser Duncan Hobhouse, son of—“

”No.”

”Okay, on to the next.” Fig winced, letting the young Duncan Hobhouse step back with a sigh. “Next is Ser Isaac Cooper. Son of Ser Tristan Cooper, the Lord Commander of the city watch. Strong, steady, and good with a lance. Ser Isaac has topped the tourney lists, specifically winning the tourney of Aranshire this past spring. ”

The princess chewed her lower lip as she appraised Ser Isaac. He stood tall, black hair cropped closely to his head. His parents stood behind him proudly bearing the badger on their sigil. Isaac gave her a beaming smile, followed by a rather obvious wink.

“I look forward to serving you, my princess, in all ways you see fit.” Isaac said loudly, followed by a showy bow. A gaggle of young ladies on the upper balcony giggled audibly, Ser Isaac blowing a kiss to his admirers.

The princess gagged, wrinkling her nose as she turned back to her tutor.

”A tourney knight,” she huffed. “Tell me, Lord Fig, do any of these knights have real combat experience?”

Fig sighed deeply, beckoning forward the sixth option. It was the knight in plain armor; unlike the others, he did not have a large gathering of family members behind him. A thin, peaky girl stood by his side, wobbling on her feet as their sigil shook in her hands. The green velvet of the flag looked worn, but a silver snake had been embroidered into the fabric with metallic thread, red beads for eyes. Behind them was a stern looking man, beard peppered with silver hairs.

The boy paid them no attention, standing forward with his head bowed to her.

“Ser Sebastian Sallow,” Fig cleared his throat. “The nephew of Ser Solomon Sallow, a former knight of the city watch. He was dismissed from his post after the death of his brother, taking on the stewardship of his young niece and nephew. Ser Solomon and his nephew Sebastian have taken the responsibility of patrolling the lower highlands, protecting their hamlets from ashwinders and poachers.”

She leaned forward over the railing, interest piqued by the humble knight below. “Tell me, Ser Sebastian, of your experience fighting against the ashwinder rebellion.”

He lifted his head, big brown eyes framed by an explosion of freckles. He had a round, boyish face for eighteen, thick brown hair descending in waves. A blush took over his cheeks as he dipped his head once more.

”I have fought against the ashwinders for the past five years, Princess. For as long as my uncle has allowed me.” He said, tipping his head back towards the stern man. “The lower hamlets rarely see reinforcements from the city watch, so it is up to the residents themselves to gather arms.”

“And when did you become a knight, Ser Sebastian?”

Sebastian turned briefly to look at his uncle, who merely nodded. “The Lord Commander of the city watch was passing through our hamlet when he witnessed me apprehending a cohort of ashwinder assassins.” He adjusted his grip on the helmet in his hands, metal clanking as he shifted. Unlike the others, there were no grand decorations, no feathery plumes attached to the helmet. It was practical, well-worn steel that had seen battle many times before. “He knighted me on the field, after the battle.”

”One boy against twenty ashwinders,” Fig whispered in her ear. “Quite a feat.”

She braced her palms against the stone ledge, hair falling over her shoulders. He looked up at her intently now, eyes wide. even with his armor on, she could see his throat bobbing, swallowing down his nerves.

“That settles it for me. I choose Ser Sebastian Sallow.”

The hall descended into loud whispers; the girl holding his sigil gasped with delight, while the man behind her dropped his mouth open in shock. Sebastian knelt, but kept his gaze fixated upon her. It was as if the chocolate brown orbs were burning into her, somewhere between admiration and curiosity.

Fig gave her a knowing look. “Ser Sebastian it is.”

”I’ll leave the details to Ser Sebastian’s investiture to you, Lord Fig.” the princess said, stepping down from the stool. Her heels clattered against the floor, hands folded behind her back. “And measure him for new armor. Something befitting my sworn protector.”

”The customary armor, of course, with your sigil on the pauldron.” Fig noted.

She paused, turning one last time towards her counsel.

”Don’t forget his snakes.” She reminded him. “Silver with ruby eyes.”

Fig tried to conceal his smile. “Yes, princess.”

“You know we’re not allowed in the armory,” Poppy hissed, trying to tug on her skirt. “Lady Singer–”

“Lady Singer can kiss my arse,” the princess declared, enjoying the way her lady in waiting’s cheeks flushed. “I would like to supervise the fitting. Will you join me?”

“I think not,” Poppy lifted her nose. “I’ll be off to the library to meet with Imelda. You should stay out of trouble.” the brunette warned.

The princess pulled open the heavy door of the armory, grinning at her friend. “Trouble is my middle name,” she sang, waving goodbye as she entered the room. The normally bustling armory was quiet at midday, with most of the knights standing guard. She stepped past the rows of white cloaks, all hung under their corresponding owner’s name. Weapons were stacked against the wall on wooden racks; she wouldn’t dare go near the spears, swords, and morningstars for fear of tipping them over. Her slippers pattered against the flagstone floors as she walked deeper into the chamber in search of her new knight.

“There you are,” she declared, seeing him standing on the pedestal. Ser Sebastian Sallow stood in his freshly tailored white breeches and shirt, half dressed in his new gilded armor.

“Princess,” the armorer bowed his head quickly, stepping away from Sebastian. “I did not realize you were coming in to supervise the fitting.”

“Is it not tradition?” she asked, circling the pedestal with an approving nod.

“It is,” the armor rubbed his hands together anxiously. “For the king. But you are a young lady, it’s hardly appropriate for you to be in the armory with a knight in a state of undress–”

“Ser Sebastian is my choice,” she pointed out. “So I will supervise the fitting of his armor and his sword selection, just as my uncle did for his sworn swords.”

“As you wish, princess.” The armor nodded. “I’ll fetch his sword at once.” He bowed, walking backwards out of the room.

“Are you always so commanding?” Ser Sebastian asked, a hand on his hip.

“Only when they’re so formal.” she grinned, crossing her arms. “The armor looks good on you.”

Sebastian’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you.” he stammered. “And thank you for honoring my house.” he gestured to his pauldron, decorated with the Sallow family sigil. Instead of the crudely carved

The armorer returned, holding a glimmering sword with a checked handle. “His sword, your grace.” he handed it to her for inspection. “I shall return shortly with his cloak; the seamstress was just finishing the hem.” He backed out of the room once more, leaving the pair alone.

The princess bobbed her head as she held the sword in her hand, testing its weight. “Good balance,” she mused, tossing it from one hand to the other.

“You’re trained with a sword?” Sebastian asked, eyebrow cocked.

She gave him a toothy grin, swinging the sword from side to side. “My uncle thought it best that I was taught the same as any other prince of the realm.”

“I certainly agree,” Sebastian offered. “I trained my sister as best as I could before coming to the capitol.”

“Well then, should we practice for your investiture?” She asked. “On your knees, then.”

Sebastian sank to the floor, beaming up at her obediently. He tipped his chin upwards, right hand resting over his heart.

“Do you swear to uphold the code of the kingsguard?” she asked, trying her best to remember the vows Lord Fig had tasked her with memorizing.

“I do,” Sebastian echoed.

“Do you swear to guard the king with all your might, and give your blood for him and his heirs?” She recited the words slowly and thoughtfully. The sword was beginning to feel heavy in her hands, but Sebastian didn’t budge. He stayed, knelt below her on the ground, closed fist bound to his chest.

“I do.”

“Do you swear to take no wife, father no children, hold no lands? Do you swear to guard your king’s secrets, obey his commands, defend his name and honor?”

The princess blinked down at her chosen knight, hovering the blade over his shoulder. His big, brown eyes stared back at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She hadn’t noticed the freckles on his lips; then again, she’d never been so close to him before. He looked both like a knight and a boy all at once–his armor was unfinished, missing the pauldron on his left shoulder that would bear her sigil. Sebastian’s messy hair stuck up in the back, and the princess felt the strong urge to pat it down.

She instead remained steady, blade in hand.

“Do you swear, Ser Sebastian?” she asked.

“I swear to take no wife, father no children, nor hold any lands. I swear to guard my queen’s secrets, obey her commands, defend her name and honor. For as long as I breathe, my life is my queen’s.” Sebastian gave her a coy look, eyes glittering with mischief; he aimed to flatter her, charming the princess with his change in verbiage.

Two could play that game, she thought. The princess lifted her sword, tapping it on both of his shoulders. “By the grace of the future queen, I name you Ser Kiss Arse.” she declared dramatically.

Sebastian choked, and the princess laughed. Her whole body shook with her giggles, and Sebastian pouted.

“No fair,” he complained. “Pick a better name.”

“Fine,” she wiped a tear from her eye. Feigning composure, she straightened her posture and gave him her best queenly glare. “By the grace of the future queen, I name you Ser Freckles.”

“You’re making a mockery of it,” Sebastian whined.

“We’re practicing, remember?” She snorted. “I promise, I’ll be much more official during the actual ceremony.”

Sebastian huffed. “Fine then. But if I get a nickname, then you get one too.” he warned. “Princess Picky is what I’ll call you.”

The princess scoffed, backing away. “Who called me picky?”

Sebastian gave her a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his neck. “Everyone at court, actually. They thought you were too picky with your requirements of the kingsguard. The public is fairly certain you’re making a mistake in picking me as your sworn sword.” his smile faltered, a wave of doubt crashing over his face. “My family has no riches, no influence at court. I have nothing else to offer you.”

The princess chewed her lower lip, dragging the sword behind her as she leaned down to face her knight. “It is no mistake,” she murmured, pressing a hand to his shoulder. “You are the most deserving of the title. I chose you. And if that makes me picky, so be it.”

Sebastian touched her wrist; the gesture shocked her, eyelashes fluttering from the surprise embrace. But she did not move her hand–the princess kept it on his uncovered shoulder, her hair falling in her face as she looked down at her sworn protector.

“Princess Picky and Ser Freckles,” Sebastian joked. “An eclectic pair.”

She gave him an earnest smile. “I’d have it no other way.”

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow AU #knight!Sebastian Sallow #honestly I can't even begin to tell you guys how we got here #I blame my lady jane and criston cole #and fight me on it but criston cole was hot before he became a stage five clinger

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k-nayee · 7 months

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Wife to the Winds Epic: The Musical | i

wc: 1.7k a/n: currently obsessed with anything Ancient Greek right now - ESPECIALLY Epic lol. it technically picks up after the song, but if ya wanna here's the animation to it!

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You felt nauseas, sick with fear as you cautiously made your way through the stone corridors.

Distant clash of swords and muffled shouts of Greek soldiers rummaging the palace heightened your urgency.

With every turn, the looming threat grows: facing an enemy and their weapon stained with the blood of those you've grown to know.

"Lord Apollo...Please...let me be there in time..."you prayed silently, the image of Astyanax's sleeping face urging you forward.

Thoughts racing almost as fast as your feet, you nearly miss a group of men around the corner.

"Imagine the glory we'll have after this!"

Too caught up in conversation, they miss the sight of you slipping into a dark alcove.

"Praise? Forget that! I'm claiming the prettiest whore out of the bunch. You seen all we captured? Deserve some softness after all this."

Hidden in the shadows you're able to take in the blood splatters and dirt on their passing frames.

"You got that right! One thing I'll admit about Troy, they have some nice women..."

You shiver at their crude remarks and wait until their laughter fades into the distance before moving once more.

After a few more dodges and turns, you find the narrow passage and squeeze through.

There, you travel the secret route you'd discovered months ago having spent years exploring every hidden nook and cranny.

The weight of the glass feeding bottle in your hand is a constant reminder of the innocence you're desperate to protect, even as the world around you crumbled. 'I'm on my way Astyanax...'

Inside the walls with only the sound of your heartbeat and the distant chaos; a haunting, pain-filled voice echoes through the air as you near the babe's chamber.

"...I'm just...a man..."

Compelled by the unexpected softness, you peek through a sliver of space at the ornately disguised door (its decorations masterfully concealing its true nature).

There, at the balcony, you're met with the view of Odysseus. And in his hands he drops—

Your heart stops.

No, it shatters.

The baby prince, your charge, your little Astyanax, is...

A heart-wrenching gasp escape your lips, the forgotten milk bottle slipping from your hands to shatter against the stone floor.

Odysseus's head snaps around.

The warrior within him awakened instantly, his eyes narrowing and scanning the shadows.

"Who's there?" he demands, voice sharp and commanding as it sliced through the quiet.

Hand already on the hilt of his dagger, he draws it with a sound that promised death and begins the search.

His feet echoes on the stone floor, each step feeling like a countdown to your end.

The air around you thickens with tension, you struggle to breath against the fear that threatens to overwhelm you.

In hopes of blending in the shadows you press your back harder against the cool wall.

'Be still...Be silent,' you chant even as your heart frantically beat against your ribcage.

Not even daring to breathe too loudly: your inhales and exhales are measured and deliberate despite the panic clawing at your throat.

Memories of Lady Andromache's warnings swirled through your mind—of men turned monsters in the heat of battle, their souls stained with the bloodlust of war.

"The taste of blood...changes a man." Dark brown eyes, somber and knowing, stare into your own. "Leaves him with a hunger for violence that's never fully sated..."

Her words, a distant and cautionary tale you never understood, now rang with terrifying clarity.

With Odysseus so close, the fear becomes so palpable it wraps around you.

Your eyes clamp shut when his footsteps nears, a feeble attempt to shield yourself from the impending horror.

Tears cascade silently down your cheeks in hot paths. There, you mourn not just for the young prince but for yourself and what may come of you.

Suddenly, the footsteps began to fade, leaving a silence so profound it feels like a scream in the void.

Minutes pass, each second an eternity spent in the clutches of fear. Then, there's a sound: the door closing—it cuts sharply through the stillness.

He left...

Relief washes over you, albeit tinged with the sorrow and shock of witnessing your charge's murder.

You wait. Counting each breath, allowing the minutes to stretch until it feels an eternity has passed.

No sound follows, no sign of his presence remains.

Emboldened by the silence and finally convinced, you allow yourself to move.

With cautious steps you emerge from your hiding spot and move toward the center of the room.

The need to escape, to distance yourself from this nightmare of death and close calls pushes you forward.

It's a relief short-lived.

Realizing the silence was a trick, it's already too late: arms encircle you.

The cold kiss of his dagger at your throat shatters any illusion of safety.

His body is pressed against your back, a wall of muscle and tension. You're acutely aware of him—the heat of his breath, the controlled movements, the slight shift as he adjusts his grip on the knife.

Your breath hitches from the terror and despair mingling in your throat, choking you.

"Not a sound," Odysseus whispers, his voice a lethal calm that contrasts the violent actions. "Now tell me: who are you?"

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Your life...choices...everything you had or could have depended on the mercy of the man who had just taken a child from the world.

Fear wars with desperation in your heart. 'Please...let this not be my end. I have so much left to live for...'

"P—please..." you stammer, the words barely escaping your lips. "I won't tell anyone, I swear it. Just let me go..."

"I said," he ignores your pleads, choosing to press the dagger closer for emphasis, "who are you?"

In a flash of desperation and unexpected courage, you act.

With a swift, practiced move born from hours of watching the palace guards train, you suddenly shift your weight.

Pivoting on your heel you wrench his arm away from your throat and use the momentum to twist his wrist; forcing him to drop and send the dagger clattering to the ground.

You jump back, chest heaving with exertion and the shock of your own audacity. You lock eyes with Odysseus who stares at you in stunned silence.

For a moment, he is visibly taken aback; eyes widening not just at the loss of his weapon but at the sight of you.

"By the Gods..." he murmurs, the edge of his battle-hardened demeanor softening as he truly sees you for the first time.

The fire of the torches cast a soft glow on your brown skin, making the stone of the palace around you seem even more dull.

Your hair is nothing he had seen before. There amidst the curls that frame your face, lays a bold streak of white that runs into the mass of hair.

However, it's your eyes that truly captivate him—they glimmer, a striking violet filled with an intensity of deep grief yet unwavering determination.

For a fleeting moment, the fierceness in his eyes dims as a cascade of thoughts sweep through.

Odysseus, a man who faced gods and monsters...

...a man who has navigated the treacherous whims of fate...

...finds himself lost in the mere mortal beauty before him.

In another life, he might have allowed himself to be drawn in; to explore your being and the depths of those violet eyes.

The fantasy flickers through his mind of what could have been, momentary indulgence if you will.

Yet, as quickly as it arrived, it is quelled by his love and loyalty for Penelope. The memory of her steadfastness and unwavering faith in his return casts a shadow over any fleeting desire he might feel.

Taking advantage of his internal conflict, you find your voice and interject. "W-wait! I mean no harm nor am I an enemy! I was just trying to survive."

Curiosity piqued, Odysseus gestures for you to continue.

"I come from land that's oceans away, taken against my will. Here, I became a servant for Lady Andromache out of exotic curiosity," Your voice steadies as you speak, gaining strength from the truth of your words. "But then my purpose evolved and I became the caretaker for the prince—a child now dead, through no fault of my own."

The Greek king could only narrow his eyes at you in assessment, voice regaining some of its earlier edge. "And why should I spare you? You are, after all, of Troy."

"Not by choice!" you counter quickly, the words tumbling out, "I am no citizen of Troy, bound by loyalty nor blood. My life here was never of my choosing. My only wish is to live a life beyond wars, serving as a pawn in the games of Gods and Kings."

A smile wry of acknowledgment touches Odysseus' lips.

"You're clever," he admits as the tension in the room shifts, becoming less hostile.

"But why should I trust you?" he probes further, bending down to retrieve his dagger yet making no move to use it. "You, who managed to disarm me?"

Your gaze held a weariness it almost felt bone-deep,, "I have nothing left. The same ambush that brought me here as a servant...massacred my family. The only wish I have now is to live a life of medicine, as my mother was and hers before her. My hands are meant for healing, not for war. Let me serve in your kingdom, and I promise, my loyalty will be yours."

Silence hangs between you two, thick with possibilities.

Then, slowly, a smile begins to form on Odysseus's lips; the first genuine smile he's probably shown in years.

"A barter, then. You propose your freedom for my journey home?"

"Yes!" your voice is firmer now, pushed by his response. "I have skills, knowledge that can aid you. Take me with you, and I swear to devote myself in ensuring your safe return to Ithaca without further misfortune."

Odysseus studies you for a long moment, weighing your words and the sincerity in your eyes. "You truly believe you can ensure my safe passage home? After everything?"

You keeping eye contact with him, the intensity of your gaze unwavering. "With all my heart..."

The quiet that follows is heavy with contemplation, with the unspoken thoughts that flicker behind his eyes.

Finally, he nods, a decision made.

"Very well. But know this," he adds, his tone leaving no room for doubt, "any betrayal, and it will be the last thing you do."

#k-nayee traveler #epic the musical #epic the ocean saga #epic the musical fanfic #jorge rivera herrans #the ocean saga #epic the musical x reader #greek mythology #greek gods #the odyssey #the odyssey x reader #epic: the musical #epic the troy saga #epic the cyclops saga #reader-insert #troy #trojan war #musical fanfic

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 12 days

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The Silver Dragon (17)

The Legend of Gahaelon and Aeremys

After being reunited after so long, Aemond has one request of Arianwyn: to read him a story.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Arianwyn could have spent the rest of her life with her face pressed against Aemond’s cheek, savoring the feeling of his strong arms around her and inhaling his familiar scent of parchment and steel – now laced with brimstone. But the commotion from the Velaryon arrival was fading, and she knew the crowd’s attention would soon be drawn to the prince openly embracing a young lady in a way that was not entirely proper. She opened her eyes and pulled away from him. Still, he did not break contact, keeping his arms firmly around her waist.

As expected, those in the training yard and on the ramparts were staring at them—knights, courtiers, servants… and her stepbrothers.

Luke still cowered behind his brother, fearful now that the uncle he mutilated had become such a fierce warrior. Jace was far less intimidated. His stare was filled with the promise of retribution, and Arianwyn knew that as soon as he had the chance, he would report everything he had seen to Daemon.

Desperate to escape those dark, prying eyes, Arianwyn shyly looked back up at Aemond. “Do you need to return to your training?” she asked, “I believe Ser Criston is waiting for you.”

For a moment, she thought Aemond would not respond. He just stood there, looking at her as if she were some mythical being. Like he wasn’t entirely convinced she was real. “No,” he said, his voice low and soft, a rich sound that seemed to rumble through Arianwyn’s chest like thunder through the sky. “I have been here since dawn; I am long overdue for a break.”

With that, he took her hand and surged up the stairs, pulling her with him into the passageways of the Red Keep. Arianwyn was so delighted to be with him again, her jubilant laughter echoing off the stone walls, that she did not realize where he was leading her until they came to the door.

Her door.

She released her hand from Aemond’s and laid it on the dark wood. “Why have you brought me here?” she asked, tracing the runes they had carved into the door years ago to ward off monsters and spirits.

Aemond was nearly silent beside her, but she felt his presence as if it were the air she breathed. A heavy but welcome weight upon her heart – a perfect embrace. “They are your rooms. I thought you would be eager to see them again.”

She turned back to him and could not suppress her smile. After all these years, they were together again. They stood before the rooms in which they spent half of their youth. It felt like it was meant to be. As if they were always fated to be here again.

“Surely they belong to someone else now,” she said. “It has been eight years.”

A subtle smile spread across his lips, not the broad, toothy grin she remembered as he reached around her to open the door. Then, he stepped back and motioned for her to enter. She did so hesitantly, half-expecting them to be walking in on some stranger’s afternoon tea.

They did not.

Her solar looked precisely as she remembered it.

The same furniture, the same curtains and tapestries. Her old cloak, made of thick brown wool and lined with bear fur, was still draped over her favorite reading chair. Two ancient bronze swords, their fullers engraved with Runes, still hung above the fireplace. Hanging from their handles, tied with faded green ribbon, were scraps of parchment bearing Aemond’s writing – the translation of the Runes they had written years ago.

Arianwyn approached the mantle, reaching out to read the note written in Aemond’s youthful scrawl. The paper was brittle with age, but the ink had not faded. When she tied them on so many years ago, she had not realized that he had drawn a figure, whom she could only assume was the prince himself, wielding the blades as he defended a long-haired maiden from some shapeless beast.

“How?” she asked, unable to tear herself from the artwork.

Aemond came to her side, the space between them sizzling like air broken by dragonfire. “Ser Gerold wanted to empty it and bring everything back to Runestone after he and Lady Arryn failed to secure your release. I would not allow it,” he murmured. “Though he and mother lost hope after that, I knew that eventually, you would return to me… and to all of us.”

She, at last, looked away from the note but remained with her back to Aemond as she stared into the long-cold ashes in the fireplace. “I came close to losing hope as well.” So many times throughout those years, she would fall into loneliness and despair, and not even Brynna or Ser Adrew could draw her out. “I would have, were it not for your letters.”

Knowing that he was still out there, that he still thought of her each day and cared enough to send long, thoughtful letters even when he was infirm, was like the sun breaking through dark, stormy clouds. Each piece of fine parchment bearing his seal was a lifeline she clung to, each one still resting in a trunk in her tower, just below her favorite window. She would read them so often, not only for the lack of books at Dragonstone but –

“What is that?” As she turned to face him, her eyes were drawn to the far corner of the solar, where her bookshelves had once been. Upon closer inspection, she realized they were still there, only now buried within a massive pile of neatly stacked books so high it nearly reached the ceiling.

“That,” Aemond said, setting his hands on her shoulders and leading her across the room, “is eight years of reading for you to catch up on.”

“You cannot be serious!” Arianwyn let out a barking laugh as she craned her neck to take in the entire pile. It was so tall that she would not be able to reach half the books without assistance from someone taller. She took a step back, coming to rest against Aemond’s chest. “You’ve read all of this since I’ve been gone?”

“I’ve read more,” he replied with a smug smile that she could not see but heard in the lilt of his voice. “These are just those I thought you would like, or wanted to discuss with you, or… what I wanted to hear you read aloud.”

At that, Arianwyn turned to face him, the corner of her mouth quirking/”::: up in a wicked grin. She raised her brows in an expression of mock pity. “Are you still struggling with the big words?”

Aemond did his best to scowl at her, but it quickly faltered and morphed into that new small smile of his. “Not for years, Aria.”

Her laughter faded when he laid a hand on her waist, guiding her backward until she was pressed against the wall of books, and he raised one hand above her head. He was so close – their lips so near to meeting. All she had to do was lift her chin ever so slightly.

But before she could truly consider doing so, Aemond pulled away. He held a small grey book, a ribbon hanging from within. He tugged on it, coaxing it open to the page he had marked. “Some stories require your voice to do them justice.”

Arianwyn glanced down at the book. It was a collection of Valyrian myths, illustrated with lovely gilt illuminations. She did not recognize the title, The Legend of Gahaelon and Aeremys.

“Will you read it to me?” Aemond asked, as reverently as if it were a prayer.

Entranced by the intensity of his gaze, Arianwyn nodded. She slipped past him and walked to the velvet couch where they had often read together. The fabric had faded slightly but was kept clean enough. She sat in her usual place on the right, where she so often laid her head against the armrest while commanding Aemond what to write down.

After a moment spent simply staring at her, Aemond sat in his place on her left.

The air between them – smaller than she had remembered – crackled with something that would only take a single spark to ignite as she opened the book once more. Then, with one more furtive glance at Aemond, Arianwyn began to read:

“The island of Aethios was one of the greatest jewels of the Valyrian Freehold. The sands of the beaches sparkled as if made from pure gold, the forests lush and green, and the dragons raised on its shores grew large and strong.

This paradise was ruled by the dragonriders of House Cephaeos. Its Lords ruled wisely and justly for hundreds of years, making the island the greatest power in the Narrow Sea. It was even said by some that the Cephaeosi had made a deal with the Merling King to ensure the tides were always in their favor, for no man alive could remember a ship bearing its blue-scaled sails ever meeting a bitter end.

But so many years of good fortune so easily won often breed weak leaders. At the height of Aethios’ power, its throne fell to Lord Aeravon – whose most demanding trial came when he had to settle a dispute over the ownership of four crab traps. He was a boastful man, certain that the glory and honor won by his ancestors was also his to bear.

One day, Aeravon was feeling particularly prideful and boasted to his court that so great was the might of House Cephaeos that even the smallest of his family’s dragons – a young beast with scales the white of sea foam which his daughter had only just taken to wing – could surely best and devour any of the Merling King’s monsters.

The court fell silent. Surely their Lord would not be so foolish as to provoke the wrath of the Merling King? Aeravon’s advisors begged him to rescind his words, but it was too late.

A great wave, taller than the topless towers of Valyria itself, crashed over the castle, bringing the pale stone roof down upon Aeravon’s court. Then, the Merling King himself stood before Aeravon’s throne.

“Your tongue wags with dangerous words, boy,” the Merling King said, pointing his three-pronged spear at the prideful Lord. “You have no respect for the sea which I command nor for my children who you now insult without shame. For this, you must pay a price equal to the offense. Bring forth the dragon of which you speak, and we shall see how it fares against the youngest of my children.”

The Lord’s daughter, Aeremys, pleaded with her father to beg the forgiveness of the Merling King so he would spare her beloved dragon, but he ignored her desperate cries. He had been issued a challenge in his own castle, and his pride would not let him refuse.

The young dragon was brought to the throne room bound in heavy chains. The pitiful beast trembled in fear along with its rider when the Merling King lifted a clawed hand to summon his child.

The court cried out when one massive webbed foot, the size of a fishing boat, seized the side of the cliffs behind Aeravon’s throne. Another followed, and the blood-red head of the Caetus came into view. It loosed a horrible roar from its mouth, filled with jagged teeth longer than ballista bolts. The ladies of the court fainted as the beast hauled its enormous body over the edge of the cliff, propelling itself towards the castle with startling speed.

All that is, except for Aeremys, who continued to cry out for her poor dragon. As the creature was devoured, chains and all, by the fearsome Caetus, it was said that her wail shattered every piece of glass on the island.

Lord Aeravon looked on with unbridled terror at the dreadful might of even the Merling King’s youngest. His skin paled as white as his hair when the Merling King again pointed his spear at him.

“Foolish man,” the Merling King said. “To think that your feeble beasts could pose a threat to my children. You and your people will suffer for your vanity.”

Even Aeravon cried when the Caetus reached out and grabbed Aeremys, carrying her away from the castle and the island as quickly as it arrived.

“You shall watch as your innocent child is devoured by my waters,” the Merlin King decreed. “Only when your heart is broken, and you cry out to your fickle gods to save you, will I grant you the mercy of death. You. Your family. Your people. Your very island shall fall to my power.”

The ground beneath the island rumbled, and great spouts of water began to spray from the cracks in the throne room tile. But Aeravon was blind to the suffering of his people. All he could see was the stone pillar that had emerged from the sea, where his beloved daughter lay naked and chained, exposed to the roiling storm that had formed around the island.

He cried to the gods, begging them to spare her, begging them to spare him and his people and the island of his ancestors. They did not listen.

Aeremys resigned herself to a painful death, anticipating the sting of salt water in her lungs or the burn of lightning on her skin. But death did not come.

Her eyes, which she had kept tightly closed since the slimy hands of the Caetus closed around her, opened to find the rain falling upon her had ceased. Instead, she beheld the gleaming silver scales of the largest dragon she had ever seen, set aglow by the light of the storm.

Astride the dragon’s back was a fearsome warrior she had met once before. Gahaelon of House Belaerys, The Silver Knight of Valyria, who had flown the entirety of the world atop his steed, Tyvaros. There was no monster he could not slay.

As if it sensed the prowess of the new arrival, the Caetus again emerged from the sea, diving with an open mouth towards Gahaelon and his dragon.

“Dracarys!” Gahaelon shouted, and his dragon obeyed. A great cone of white flame enveloped the monster, boiling the water from its very blood. As the Caetus wailed for its father to save it, Tyvaros charged, allowing Gahaelon to carve it from tooth to tail with his greatsword, Aemandra.

Before the two halves of the beast could fall into the water, Gahaelon leaped from Tyvaros’ back, using the bloodied sword to cleave Aeremys’ chains and set her free. He held her close as he wrapped her in his cloak to hide her nakedness before mounting them both upon Tyvaros.

“Come, let us save your father!”

“No!” Aeremys replied. “He has made his choice. Let him suffer the consequences.” Gahaelon needed no convincing beyond the rage he found in her eyes.

The Merling King watched as the silver dragon flew away from his storm. Though he mourned the loss of the Caetus, he remembered how Aeremys begged her father to apologize and how she cried when her dragon was devoured. He watched as Gahaelon gently kissed the tears from her cheeks with a love the Merling King had not felt in millennia. Such a love deserved mercy, he resolved.

Then, the Merling King unleashed his ultimate wrath on the island of Aethios, reducing it and its people to stones and sand that sunk to the bottom of his sea.”

Aemond barely heard the story, though he knew Aria read it beautifully. She always did. But as she read, she had shifted closer and closer to him, and he to her. He could focus on little else but the way her head rested on his shoulder, his chin nestled in her hair.

She froze momentarily as if she, too, realized how dangerously close they were. Yet she didn’t pull away.

Emboldened, he slowly moved the arm he had slung over the back of the couch down until his hand was on her waist. She did not hesitate to lean back into his chest. Though his heart raced, and he was sure she could feel it, Aemond felt calmer and more at ease than he had in years.

“I never thanked you for the book of Runes you sent,” Aria whispered as she let the book fall into her lap.

Aemond took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “There is no need to thank me, Aria,” he kept his voice soft, too, as if any noise may shatter the small piece of paradise they found themselves in. “If anything, I should be the one to thank you for the gift you gave me.”

“Do you have it with you?” She looked up at his eyepatch as if she could see what lay beneath.

“I do,” he answered, though he was unsure if he wanted to show her. The last time she had seen what remained of his eye, she had fainted. He did not want her to be as afraid of him as so many were.

But then she looked at him with those perfect silver eyes brimming with fondness and reached with hesitant fingers for the edge of his scar. “Can I see it?”

How could he deny the woman he loved? How could he ever think she could fear him? Keeping one arm around her waist, he reached for the patch.

The moment his fingers touched the leather, the door to the room swung loudly open.

In an instant, Aemond realized how they must look, entangled in each other, alone in an empty room. Suddenly desperate to protect her reputation, he hastily uncoiled his arm from her waist and stood from the couch, leaving Arianwyn dazed by his sudden retreat.

Turning to the door, he was greeted by a smiling Queen Alicent, followed by Helaena and her children.

Perfect timing, he thought wryly as he forced an innocent smile to his face.

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fic #hotd fanfic #aemond xf!oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #the silver dragon

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a-person-whos-alive · 10 months

Text

Why TotK fails Zelda

Heads up, this is a long post. Ive cut this down like a motherfucker but it still reads very long. My thoughts are divided into four main categories;

1. Her relationship with her magic & tech

2. Her relationship with Hyrule

3. Her relationship with Link

4. Her relationship with the player

Also, these are my opinions, I'm certain there are people with far better analysis skills than me! I am just in love with this franchise and a little disappointed with the recent game. Zelda as a character holds a special place in my heart and its sad that her character was done dirty like this.

Theres a TLDR at the end and before I forget, SPOILERS!!!

1. Her relationship with her magic & tech

Zelda is not someone who magic came easily to, and I think BotW & AoC did a great job exploring that. They contrasted her natural interest with the sheikah technology and her lack of power and it was 😘👌

How did TotK do? With the Zonai tech being the main selling point, how would Zelda, a scholar at heart, interact with it? To my memory, the only interaction she has is to put Mineru's soul into a piece of Sheikah tech and hand it to a construct.

Well what about magic? Finding out she has light AND time powers was at first a great throwback to OoT with the Sage of Time. The fact that her Time magic awakened immediately unlike the Light magic in the last game was a nice contrast. But then, she immediately has a similar dilemma, she can't USE her magic to propel herself forward because she doesnt know how. Unlike BotW though, she has the "mother" she was lacking to teach her. This was a decent set-up. It was different enough to be its own thing but still was familiar enough. This is up to memory 4 - Mineru's Council

The issue the NEXT MEMORY, memory 5 - Gerudo Assualt shows her being even more proficient than Sonia. We don't see her train, or struggle, or even ask a question about how the stone works. She just does. It's not until memory 8 do we see her get any guidance about her powers? And even then we don't see her attempt recall at all. In the next memory she simply uses it perfectly and effortlessly.

The purpose of her strengthening Time Magic was to get back home. Yet, she gets back home by swallowing a sacred stone, that she already had the ability to do at any point. She turns into the LIGHT dragon, using her LIGHT magic to strengthen the Master Sword. Her whole arc about her magic was pointless because in the end she used the powers from the previous game for everything important.

2. Her relationship with Hyrule

Positives first! Its clear that Zelda loves her people, and during the 7? year gap she obviously took the time to connect with them and problem solve. Penn's quest really demonstrates this, and so does the Hateno school quest. (Even if the children don't believe in the Calamity). I found it very endearing that the people had such faith in her, that even with Ganondorf causing havoc with her face, people refused to believe it. The Great Fairies MUST have seen wrong because it was dark, Dorephan MUST have been mistaken, the Stable Trotters MUST have seen someone else - Zelda wouldn't do that.

I additionally liked that Zelda wasn't immediately trying to set up a monarchy again. In fact, she seemed to be doing the opposite. She wasn't living in Central Hyrule, at Looking Landing, she was living in Hateno. She was a teacher, and on some level a researcher (even if the Don Dons were scrapped ideas from the first trailer).

But the second she goes to the past, she is put back in her box. Her interests in tech are non-existant, she does not interact with anyone who isn't royalty, the King doesn't listen to her about Ganondorf and tells her to not to worry - after all she's just supposed to wear that white dress and hope her magic works soon. She's regressed back to before the Calamity, waiting for something terrible she knows is coming and is powerless to stop.

Crucially, she doesn't speak to Ganondorf once.

This is by far the most egregious waste of their characters in my opinion, and I've just deleted a 3 paragraph Ganondorf discussion - another time. But come on! This is legitimately the PERFECT scenario for Zelda to find about about WHY people opposed her royal family, WHY everyone she's ever loved died in Calamity caused by this guy, WHY she's had to go through all this. But no, if they did talk, it wasn't on screen.

Ive seen in translations of parts of one of the interviews with a developer saying she was able to see what a ruler should be like by going to the past, but until a see an official source I'm going to hope that's not true

3. Her relationship with Link

"Link is still entrusted with the role of protecting Princess Zelda." - Hidemaro Fujibayashi https://www.npr.org/2023/09/13/1199307678/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-dlc-video-game. Maybe I'll write a post about Link sometime, but I'm focusing on just him and Zelda.

Whether you ship the two or not, the pair would obviously have a unique bond from both fighting the Calamity and losing the Champions/everyone. So, how did the pair cope with the destruction of everything the love? How did Zelda come to terms with the ruins of Castle Town, the harsh reality of all those who were dead? Zelda doesn't have Link's amnesia to temporarily soften the inital blow.

TotK explores none of this.

Similarly, there is a level of formality on how Zelda speaks of Link. When she tells Rauru of Link she starts, "He is a royal knight. He had been originally appointed for my protection, but later he became a hero by saving both me and Hyrule from a great evil". Not "he and I became close" or even "he became my friend". Zelda is talking to the two people closest to her right now,

All their interactions are the bare minimum.

Link has ALWAYS been a self insert for the player, but he's still a character, and more recently Nintendo has been acting like having emotions means a player can't project onto them. Zelda is Link's closest person, and when she returns he is piece of cardboard, at least help her up!

4. Her relationship with the player

First, as everyone who played BotW will know, many things were removed or changed in TotK to allow it to be standalone for new players. Sheikah tech was removed, important characters forgot Link, the majority of the last game was rarely if ever mentioned. Kass

However TotK does not properly establish Link and Zelda for new fans AND doesnt not elaborate for old fans. They interact twice until the end - the intro and memory 1. All of her characterisation is in that little history moment, the rest of it is 50% sacred power lore and 50% time power lore. Additionlly, anyone who is new to the game has no context for her light powers.

Actually, TotK literally retcons her light magic to be from Rauru and not Hylia. Which was the WHOLE POINT of BotW so great sequelling there guys.

TLDR: The Conclusion

Wow, you made it this far. Or you skipped to end, I would too. My main gripes with Zelda:

> She doesn't interact with Zonai Tech.

> Her arc is about learning time power to go home, only for her to not use said magic and instead use the light magic from the last game to fix the sword and be a light dragon.

> Having her worries about Ganondorf shot down by the King and not holding her ground/ insisting (did you learn nothing from Rhoam??)

> never interacting with Ganondorf him being in Hyrule as a diplomat

> nintendos approach to her and link, they dont once touch while both conscious. Not even a handshake or pat on the shoulder. See images above with prev. Zelda and Link.

> the instance on making it not complicated for accessibility to new players, but also not fleshing it out enough to be compelling on its own.

#legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #totk #zelda #zelink #skyward sword #???#kind of #if i said all i wanted to say about skyward sword zelink it would be three times as long #i dont even ship totk zelink but im mad for yall #i hope this is readable #i do math all day #i have little media literacy #i try

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shy-urban-hobbit · 5 months

Text

Have some Aiden & Kid!Jaskier interaction!!

"It's you!"

Aiden turned his attention towards where Jaskier was sat by the fire alongside the wolves, the bard's face a strange mixture of disbelief and elation, as was his scent. Aiden crinkled his nose slightly as he fought back the urge to sneeze or cough at the unfamiliar combination being directed at him.

"Yeah, it's me. Happy to see you too?" Aiden ventured, despite the fact that it couldn't have been more than an hour since they'd last seen each other. Aiden had gone back out into the courtyard after dinner to run some drills, despite the harsh weather, and get rid of the excess energy he could already feel building up. Vesemir was gracious enough to refer to it as 'extra training' and not act like it was a necessity if they all wanted Aiden to avoid getting so restless he literally started climbing the walls.

"No! I mean...I didn't realise before now until I saw you silhouetted like that with your swords and everything, but it's you!"

Aiden suddenly found himself with a limpet of a bard hanging off him, determined to cling despite the rainwater which now soaked both of them.

"Jaskier, I-"

"Oh right. You probably don't remember, what am I saying, of course you don't - Jaskier you fucking idiot. It's been thirty years, no doubt you've lost count of how many humans you've dealt with in the meantime. But-"

"Jaskier." Lambert huffed out from where he was dozing on the fur which acted as a hearth rug, not even bothering to open his eyes, "Let Aiden go dry off and then maybe some context to go with your twittering, Birdie."

By the time Aiden returned, Jaskier's excitement was enough that even the Wolves were giving him their full attention as he re-entered the main hall. Eskel and Geralt's books lay abandoned on a side table while a now awake Lambert was sat leaning against the wall by the hearth. He pulled Aiden down to sit next to him, the fire hot stone through his thick, wool shirt creating a pleasant warmth against his back.

"Alright then." Jaskier started from where he was sat cross legged in one of the old armchairs, leaning forwards as he once again addressed Aiden directly, "Before I start, do you remember anything about a night in Lettenhove thirty years ago. At the Viscount's estate."

Aiden shook his head, although something about this was starting to niggle the back of his mind.

"Name of Panktratz. Little boy, around six years old?" Jaskier continued, eyes growing sadder as it became clear this memory was potentially very one-sided, "Somehow convinced you to-"

He wasn't sure if it was the name or the wide-eyed look the man was throwing him, but Aiden felt something suddenly tumble into place. "Wait, I do remember that night!"

Aiden fought back a growl as he took in the various toys littering the floor, the miniature four poster bed...whose occupant was an even smaller lump under the covers.

That son of a bitch! That slimy twat had hired him to 'take care' of his nephew so he'd be next in line for the title instead, implying the whole time that his relative wasn't exactly deserving of the title. Aiden had accepted the job - what difference did the inner squabblings of Nobility make to him afterall.

In hindsight he probably should have asked more questions but he didn't have a copper coin to his name and this guy had paid upfront; enough for him to be able to eat regularly and maintain his gear for the foreseeable. He started planning after his employer graciously provided him with a blueprint of the estate and pointed out the targets rooms. He'd failed to mention however, that said target looked to be scarcely old enough to wield that wooden sword properly, nevermind any degree of power.

Fuck it. He should stay as far away from this potential mess as possible. It was bad enough when their employers pointed the finger of blame at them when they assassinated an adult, but a child? That was a complication none of them needed. Mind made up, he turned to climb back out of the window (which had been concerningly easy to coax open from the other side), making sure hood and mask were still firmly in place.

"Hello."

Aiden froze. Speaking of complications....

Rookie mistake! He'd been so caught up in everything else he'd forgotten to keep one ear focused on the other heartbeat in the room. He ran through possible scenarios: he could do what he'd been paid to do, but now the kid was awake there was every chance he'd scream and alert the house before Aiden could even lift a finger. Same potential problem if he tried to leave. He could always cast somne...

"You're a Witcher aren't you? I can see the shape of your swords!" Aiden's nose twitched at the boys scent. Strange. Even through the cloth covering the lower half of his face he could tell the boy didn't smell afraid. He smelled excited, happy even?

"I know all about Witchers. You keep us safe from monsters. Is that why you're here, is there a monster in my room?" The small voice turned slightly fretful as a faint whiff of fear started to sour the air - yet more strangeness in the fact that it was due to imagined monsters rather than him.

Aiden dared to turn and look, something about this child's initial boldness piquing his curiousity (who the hell starts questioning a stranger in their room instead of screaming the place down?). A small boy stared back at him with large eyes as he clutched the soft looking sheets to him like a shield as he curled up in the centre of the bed. "My Uncle Desmond says that monsters like to come out at night and eat little boys. I don't like him. He's mean."

Aiden gave a bittersweet smile at the pout he could see on the little face.

'Oh. You have no idea just how mean, kid.' He thought to himself.

"No, no monsters here. Go back to sleep."

The boys pout turned into a frown, "You didn't even look."

"Because I don't need to."

"Please, Mister Witcher." His bottom lip wobbled in a practiced tremble as his eyes grew even bigger.

Aiden bit back another smile. Kid was good, he'd give him that. Such audacity deserved some sort of reward.

"Alright. One very quick monster check, then you go to sleep. Deal?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically, "My name's Julian, by the way."

"I don't care."

"...are you going to tell me yours?"

"No."

"Can I see your swords?"

"No."

"How about your-"

"How about no talking until we make absolutely sure there's nothing waiting in your wardrobe?"

Turns out the only monstrous thing in Julian's wardrobe was a few hideous combinations of frills and lace. Behind the curtains yielded nothing, as did underneath the bed.

"Ok. Now you hold up your end of the deal and go to sleep."

Julian scowled at him in response from where he was now stood up on the feather mattress to watch rather than huddled under the sheets, arms crossed expectantly.

"What?"

"You're supposed to say sweet dreams."

Aiden blinked at him before replying "Sweet dreams." Monotonously.

"Tuck me in?"

Aiden cast the sign for somne, Julian's body flopping down before he'd even finished. Cheeky little fuck would've been wanting a lullaby next. Still, it wouldn't do for him to get cold, there was no fireplace in this room after all. He grabbed the quilt from the bottom of the bed, not bothering to straighten it as it fell haphazardly over the small body before doing what he should have done thirty minutes ago and taking his leave back through the window.

"I told my parents about you the next morning. They didn't believe me of course. Said it was probably just a dream and that if there had been a Witcher in my room I'd be dead. Although, I suppose that explains why my Uncle Desmond looked apoplectic when I came down to breakfast. I never knew he'd hired you to, you know." He flicked a hand across his neck in a throat cutting motion. "Why didn't you by the way? Not that I'm saying I wish you had or anything. I was a human child, you could've killed me multiple times as easily as scratching an itch but you didn't. Why?"

Aiden's features settled into a frown, "Oh trust me, if your Uncle had waited ten more years it probably would've been a very different outcome. As it is, once I had all the facts, I just decided against accepting a contract on a kid. The one who offered me the contract however..."

Jaskiers eyebrows shot up as he shuffled further forwards, "Are you saying you offed my uncle? He did just sort of... disappear."

"Not exactly. I merely broke back in and left evidence of what he'd planned somewhere I knew the current Viscount would find it. What he chose to do with that I had no involvement in. If he just so happened to be on the lookout for an assassin and I was coincidentally still in the area, well...no Witcher is ever going to turn down such well paying jobs so close together."

Jaskier laughed, causing the wolves to look at him in shock, "Oh don't look like that. I didn't learn the extent of it until I was older but besides trying to murder me he was an absolute cock. Definitely not somebody you'd want in charge of anything!"

"The ones that desperate for power usually aren't." Eskel mused, Lambert raised his cup in agreement.

"You know, I'm so happy that Geralt ended up being the Witcher I ran into in Posada. But when I started out from Oxenfurt, I was actually looking for you."

Aiden straightened up in slight surprise, "Why?"

"Because I wanted to do this." Jaskier got down on the floor and once again wrapped his arms around Aiden, the Witcher returning the hug this time.

"Thanks." Jaskier muttered, "For humouring a scared, probably irritating as hell, little boy."

Aiden tightened his hold slightly, "You're welcome, Julian."

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #witcher aiden #witcher jaskier #jaskier #jaskier/aiden friendship #jaskier/aiden

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cambion-companion · 2 years

Note

Hello! i imagine aemond follows the trope "bad to everyone but you", so you could write a one-shot where they grow up studying together in childhood, the reader loves history and he is completely whipped by it

One-shot time!! Aemond x reader

No content warnings | lots of fluff | Aemond being a nerd

Most children liked to play outdoors, running wild and scraping up their knees. You, however, were not like most children, preferring the company of books to that of your peers. You took shelter often in the library of the Red Keep, surrounded by dusty old tomes stacked to the ceiling. Shortly after your eleventh name day, one particular afternoon, as you sat nose deep in Chronicles of Ancient Targaryen Philosophy, the usual heavy silence of the room was broken as someone opened the heavy oak door and entered.

You looked up from the page, eyes taking a moment to focus on the young boy now walking over to join you. “Aemond, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You had grown up practically at the young prince’s side, only being a year apart in age, and would even have called him “friend” had he not changed so after the incident with Rhaenyra’s children. The left side of his face, still heavily bandaged, was taking a long time to heal. The maesters had been unable to save the left eye. Aemond had become much more withdrawn into himself and prone to fits of temper ever since, despite what he had said about it being a “fair trade” for Vhagar.

Aemond sat himself to the right of where you were currently studying, grabbing a book at random and opening it with a dull thud. “Leave me, I wish to be alone.” The boy snapped. Mildly hurt but not surprised, you sighed softly and made to exit the room with the silent library keepers. Aemond placed a hand on your arm as you moved past him, “Not you.”

Reseating yourself next to the prince, you reopened your volume and stared at the words, unable to concentrate. Your eyes darted up to where Aemond sat and found him watching you with his one eye, “What are you reading, Y/N?”

You shifted the book towards him so he could look at the text, “It’s a study on the ancient traditions of Valyria, I’ve already finished most other books that cover the topic and am finding this one to be the most comprehensive narrative.”

Aemond didn’t look away from your face, “I’ve taken more to reading the writings of history and philosophy myself…as well as studying the blade. It is difficult, however, what with…” He gestured to his face and sighed, flopping back against the chair.

“Are you alright? We haven’t spoken since-”

“Do I look alright?” Venom dripped from Aemond’s voice as he snapped out the words through gritted teeth. You withdrew slightly and his tone softened, “Tell me what you’ve learned about Old Valyria, distract me Y/N.” It was more a plea than anything you had heard before from your friend and you wanted desperately to help in any small way you could.

So you regaled Aemond all you could remember from the many volumes of history, literature and philosophy you’d read. Many hours were spent with the two of you up in the library together, hours turned to days, days into months, and months into years. Your fondness for Aemond only became stronger as he grew into a handsome young man, cunning as well as a fearsome warrior. He wore an eyepatch to cover the eye he had lost, and you were the only lady who knew what truly lay beneath.

Aemond, for all his mastery of blade and book, was never able to completely control his temper. Except around you.

One drizzly autumn day, as you watched him train with Sir Criston from the shelter of the stone hallway, another young warrior jeered from the sidelines as Aemond barely dodged an attack aimed where you knew his blind spot to be. It was a small thing, at least so it seemed, but Aemond whirled on the man, grabbing the front of his shirt with one hand and raising his sword with the other.

“Aemond, leave him!” Sir Criston tried to pull the prince off to no avail.

You gathered your skirts and hurried down into the courtyard, your boots sinking into the soft mud as you approached the struggling men. “Aemond!” Your hand found his and you gently pried his fingers away from the other man’s tunic. “He’s not worth it.”

Your voice was soft, but it seemed to break Aemond out of a trance. He pushed away from Sir Criston, lowering his sword and turning to you. ��You squeezed his hand briefly before dropping it, all too aware of the many curious eyes on the two of you. Nodding to Sir Criston, you made your way back to the Keep, not before you thought you heard a muttered “thank you” coming from Aemond’s lips. It was so soft, however, you couldn’t be sure you hadn’t imagined it since your friend hardly ever said those words.

That same day as the sun rode the western sky, turning the trees golden as it sank toward the horizon, Aemond found you in your usual place next to the fireplace of the empty library, your head bent towards a book. You felt a warm familiar hand on your shoulder and looked up with a smile, “I’m glad you found me.”

He huffed out an affectionate chuckle, briefly running the back of his finger down your cheek, “It’s not exactly difficult Y/N, you have very few refuges of habit.”

Aemond pulled a cushioned chair nearer to you and sat, thrumming his fingers on the arm. You closed the History of Dragonriding on your lap, turning in your seat to face him. Your knees almost brushed as he mirrored your movements, “Something is on your mind.” It wasn’t a question, you could read Aemond like any of the books in this library.

“Something is always on my mind, Y/N, but…you are right. I have been preoccupied of late.” The flames from the fire were casting shadows across Aemond’s face, his eye roved across your features, lingering on your mouth.

“You have been my good friend, and a friend to my family, all my life Y/N.” His hand reach across the distance separating you two and rested atop your own, “You possess an intelligence many lack, I never grow bored of our conversations.”

You smiled ruefully, “I’m thrilled, Aemond, truly…but why are you telling me this?”

Aemond leaned forward, long silver hair spilling over his shoulders, “I wish to court you, Y/N. I want you to be mine. You will be mine.”

You stood in alarm, a look of incredulity on your face. Leaning over the prince, you touched the back of your hand to his forehead, “You must have a fever Aemond, it has burned away all sense from your mind!”

You let out a small sound as he grabbed your waist and tugged you forward causing you to collapse into him, straddling his lap.

“This is hardly proper!” Your words stirred the strands of shimmering hair caught on his face.

“I don’t care.” His breath smelled of spiced apples.

“Aemond, someone will see!” You pushed fruitlessly against his chest.

“I don’t care.”

You stopped your feeble attempts to free yourself, your hands splayed across his chest.

“Look at me.”

You obeyed, looking fully into Aemond’s face. He brought his hands up to cradle your head and brushed your noses together affectionately. “There is no other woman in the world I could love, Y/N. You are the temperance to my rage, the half of myself I lost all those years ago.”

You breathed out his name, Aemond’s violet gaze dropped to your lips. You both moved as one, bringing your mouths together in a kiss that now seemed years overdue. The firelight danced across your joined forms, the only witness to a blossoming love that would last more than a lifetime.

#aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #hotd #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond

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asumofwords · 1 year

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash - Aemond POV

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Aemond!POV, murder, violence, blood, gore, infidelity, smut.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond!POV Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my angels, I thought I would write this up considering I've had so many of you asking for Aemond!POV chapters for when he goes to Harrenhal etc.

So I have written two short chapters, one as an introduction to Alys Rivers (I can hear you all hissing right now) and the other will be the Aemond!POV of when he finds the reader after her assault. I'm sorry I haven't written too many Aemond POV's as of late, but I don't really have the energy to do it! So, I hope this feeds you for the time being. Enjoy <3

Alys Rivers

Alys Rivers was a woman of conviction, head strong, and assured.

Though a bastard and a wet nurse in Harrenhals walls, she had teeth that had been sharpened by the blade she had been raised on. Quick witted and patient, Alys was willing to sit back and watch things play out, and not be rushed to action.

Though, it helped to have her sight. A gift in which she had been born with, a gift in which her mother before her had guided her through.

Storm clouds and pools of water, flames of fire or cups of ale, Alys saw many visions and knew much of many things. She knew of the future, and of the past. And she saw the present as anyone else did, but with whispers of what was yet to come.

Alys had looked into the flames of a fire one night, and she had seen a vision of green and black, a vision of Fire and Blood, dripping from the earth, pooling thickly beneath it. She saw a mountain three feet tall, and she saw a man with silver hair, and one lone eye, standing tall with sword in hand.

She had seen the destruction of House Strong, and had not warned her kin.

Aemond Targaryen was a man of duty, but Alys Rivers contradicted this. For she was low born, a bastard of a House he unleashed years of collected rage and sorrow upon.

The Prince remembered the day clearly. News had come to Kings Landing, and death had come to Harrenhal in return.

He had every person, young and old, child and man grown, woman and babe, lined up for him in the yard of Harrenhal, and with Aemond’s hand, he delivered swift and unjustified death to all of them.

They had watched one after the other be slain, all in a line, waiting for their turn to go next. Waiting on shaking legs, soiled in fear as they were pushed towards the One-Eyed Prince.

With each swing of his sword, slowly, but surely, the House Strong dwindled, and their numbers dissolved into a lump of flesh and blood. Each one begged for mercy, each child calling for their mothers, each woman begging for their life. But some of the men did not beg, and went to him without a word, eyes coldly staring into Aemond’s.

Strong.

He supposed that was why the House was called what it was. He could not say the same for the women though, but they would fall, whether on their knees willingly or with the slice of his blade through their bones.

Each and every single one of them was slain, until a pile of heads grew larger and larger, its base unsteady as new ones were tossed atop, rolling from the highest point down onto the blood soaked stones below.

She had been one of the last of them.

Alys Rivers.

A Strong Bastard.

A woman, older than him, with jet black hair and bright green eyes. She had an air to her which invited mystery, allure, and Alys had walked towards Aemond, with no fear, as though she already knew her fate.

As though she knew that she would be spared.

And she was.

“Are you going to beg?” He had asked her cruelly, waiting for the tears to roll down her cheeks and her meek pleading to begin.

But she didn’t.

Instead, Alys Rivers spoke with confidence, “No.” She did not address him, “It is not my time. She waits for you…” Alys paused, seeing Aemond stiffen, hand readjusting on the large blade which dripped with the blood of her House, “Your zaldrītsos.”

Zaldrītsos.

How did she-

Aemond looked at the woman.

She was dressed in maids robes, and her hair lay shinily down her back. Her eyes were what drew him to her the most. They were the brightest green he had ever seen, brighter than the scales on Vhagar, like two emeralds that glistened behind her thick, black eyelashes.

“Come.” Aemond had barked, flicking his sword out to the side of him, blood spraying against the stone.

Alys smiled.

She did not bow, she did not address him as Your Grace, My Lord, My Prince, she did not offer him anything but what she would willingly give. It intrigued him. And so with swift and wet footsteps, he stormed across the courtyard, leaving his men to deal with the mess that he had created, and to finish what he had started.

Aemond had taken her, forcefully, brutally, and roughly in one of the closest rooms he could have found. His armour was dripping with blood, it dotted his face and stuck thickly in his silver white hair, clumping the strands together, and if she had any fear or worries about it, or about him, she did not show it.

And instead, Alys Rivers had welcomed him into her cunt, which was wet with her slick already without having been touched.

And thus became a new duty Aemond created for himself.

To see her. His Alys. To watch her. Talk to her. Fuck her. Dive between her thighs, latch his lips around her nipples which leaked mothers milk into his mouth for him suck greedily, nipping at the stiffened peaks with his sharp teeth.

As he grew to know Alys, he grew to love her too. His Alys. His witch. She sees much and more, and tells him much and most. She sees things, in the clouds, in the sea, puddles or chalices. In the flames of the fireplace, or the flames of Vhagar, who he let her ride with him, sat astride in front or behind, her soft skin pressed to him tightly.

For any fear Alys had for him, she did not show it.

She did not cower at his anger, nor did she shrink at the sight of his eye like others. She came to him, swiftly, confidently, and kissed the scarred skin, cradled it with milk white hands, whispered praise and adoration to him, and murmurs of her visions.

Of his zaldrītsos.

And visions of herself.

“I see a babe born of your blood, his fire licking at my womb. A young Prince.” Her hands soothed through his long hair, as she held him in the chambers he had demanded for her.

A Prince.

A babe.

His.

Aemond hummed, “And when will the bastard Prince be born.”

“When the tenth moon comes and goes, the babe will be born as the air shifts, and another grows.”

“Another?”

“A true born Prince of silver hair and purple eyes. You will be wed to your zaldrītsos, and she will come to love you as I do.”

Aemond felt his heart race in his chest, “And you have seen it?”

“I have, my dragon. I have seen many things, heard much more. I see what is yet to come, and what has been.”

Aemond shifted, leaning on an arm so that he lay above her, “And what do you see, my witch?”

Alys looked into his eye and let a soft hand brush against his face and up through his hair. Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to his sapphire eye, then to his cheek, and then to his mouth, rolling her hips upwards to meet his own, his softened length beginning to harden again.

“I see a union, of Green and Black. Of two great flames, united as one.” The witch rolled her hips again, feeling his length stiff and heavy upon her thigh. Reaching a hand down she grasped him and pumped him in her palm, “I see a love that was lost, united again.”

Leaning forward, Aemond slid through her folds and into her waiting heat, pleasure rolling through the both of them. As he moved in and out of her cunt, Alys continued to whisper her visions.

“An ‘X’ to guide her way back to you. She walks through the dark to seek you out. To t-touch you.” Her back arched as Aemond dips a head to take a swollen breast into his mouth.

Aemond began to thrust into her harder, “Ravens will whisper the words of a burning star, a crown forged of blood.” She cried, nearing her release as his long fingers made their way to her pearl, rubbing in slow circles, feeling her cunt flutter around his cock.

“I saw a child, born from ice and fire, the Prince that was promised. Five years to come, from her blood, the Merciless Princess.”

Alys came with a cry, and Aemond toppled over the edge shortly after, laying on top of her for her to brush slow hands through his hair as they both came down from their highs, sighs and jagged breaths, Aemond’s cock softening inside of her.

“She will come back to me?” Aemond whispered into her neck, feeling the heat from her body radiate up onto him.

“She will always come back to you.”

And Aemond always came back to Alys.

For she offered visions of hope, visions of love. Words of encouragement and praise. She offered a place of solitude, a place to be him. A place to get away, to hide, to seek out a warmth he never got from you, or his mother, or anyone who was supposed to love or care for him.

Alys Rivers had seen many things.

And she had seen you.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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mysticsublimeperson · 8 months

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I have a Merthur AU idea!!! I have this Outlander-ish idea

Summary: What if Merlin crosses to another dimension, where the time runs differently and it’s left there, to fend for himself what to him it’s like 15 years but to the knights are just a couple of days. When the knights finally cross to rescue him they find a really hot, 30 ish Merlin that is a dragon rider and a badass and has been constructing the circle of rocks and designing spells and runes to come back to them..

Snippet of sorts:

They were investigating a new wave of new and different monsters they, (Arthur, Merlin and the knights) find themselves in front of a huge megalithic monument, it’s so big that to surround it would take a bit too much effort, just because they are all tired of riding and not finding ANYTHING even if the reports all point to this specific forest.

So they all are in front of this huge rocks and Merlin says that they should go around and NOT across because it doesn’t feel right to cross it, inside the circle the grass is tall and the flora grows freely, weird because it means no one have entered, no animal, no person… even the horses seem to be uneasy there. But the stones are clean, no moss.

Merlín feels a disturbance in the balance, the magic is exited but in tension, like waiting for something to happen. A drop to fall.

“I just… this doesn’t feel right Arthur” Merlin said growing desperate, the tension was starting to get to him. “This seems old, and unbothered, we should not be the ones to cross it, it may be a trap” he had come down of his horse because it wouldn’t get close willingly. That felt like a limit, a border, a huge sing that said DO NOT CROSS.

“You know what Merlin?” Merlin prepared to be mocked, but he honestly didn’t care if it got them out of there. He crouched, and took a little branch from the floor. Surrounding the stones he could see something, he moved the dirt to find runes. They were old. Unbothered. He could not recognize much. Some were familiar but not the same. Until…

Respect.

Eternal.

Rest.

Shit. This could be a grave. A grave of someone powerful. And this someone was asking for respect in his rest. And even dead, everything alive was still afraid of retribution.

“You are right, we will not be the first crossing this huge stupid thing…” Merlin could have cried in relief. He jumped to his feet and turned around, almost clashing with Arthur, who had got off his horse and walked up to him when he was distracted, and this huge mischievous grin in his face “You are” Just a tiny push in his shoulder, it’s all it took, it was almost comical.

“Arth…”

Merlín got up with a spring and his expression was relieved and free, and transformed into one of fear so quickly, it made him want to reach and stop his fall, to ask for forgiveness. To say that it was only dumb a joke.

Arthur could feel his blood freeze, and the time seemed to slow down. And between a heartbeat and the next Merlin was gone.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

He wanted to believe this a joke. But it couldn’t be, he seen it with his own eyes.

“MERLIN!” He shouted surprised of how desperate his own voice could sound, before he could give another step his knights stoped him. “MERLIN!” He screamed again while Percival pushed him out of the way, far from the circle.

Gwaine stepped up to the point where Merlin had been, he hadn’t left anything. The only thing that could ever hint that he had been there were his footprints in the soil.

“Sire, Arthur you need to breathe” Leon tried to get his attention.

Gwaine had his sword out, and pushed it into the circle, and nothing happened, his sword was there, not like Merlin.

He could feel the pressure in his chest, and the burning in his eyes. The anxiety felt suffocating, and suddenly Leon and Elyan were blocking his view.

“Breathe Arthur” instructed Leon, while Elyan tried to get him to imitate him.

It took be a lot more to calm down, and by the time Arthur and Gwaine were calm enough to talk the sun was already setting.

They decided to camp in silence and tension. Elyan had scouted the circle but had not found much. Like Merlin had said nothing came close to the circle, all the animal footprints stopped almost ten steps from the circle.

“But…” Elyan keep going “there’s four points where the earth has been disturbed” he tried to explain.

“What do you mean?” asked Arthur voice rough from shouting.

“There’s nothing entering the circle” he continues “I didn’t think those were footprints, because they were really big, and…” he shook his head and focused “I think the monsters have been coming from somewhere in the circle, they come out” he self finally, eyes set in the fire and voice tense.

A clash was heard and Gwaine was tackled to the ground.

“Get off me” he shouted, “if something is coming from there then I can get in” he growled.

“It’s just an idea” defended Elyan, “I know nothing of magic, there’s runes surrounding the stones! That’s what Merlin was looking before” he pointed to the circle “I don’t know if someone was summing the monsters, maybe what step inside turn into the monsters, maybe they are the sacrifice, maybe this has nothing to do w the monsters at all, and even if this is some kind of passage way, how do we know that place it's not worse” Elyan looked at Gwaine “Merlin is the one that knew most of this stuff” and Arthur’s eyes started to burn.

“I might as well killed him” he said in low voice, rough a guilty.

That made Gwaine stop.

“We” said in grave tone. “We all agreed, If you hadn’t done it yourself, I would have, it was a joke, we were stressed, and when that happen we tend to tease him, none of us took it seriously, none of us took him seriously” Gwaine let out an angry sob “that's why we need to to get him back, we need to apologize"

They start planning.

They notice that while it’s true that none animals entered willingly, when escaping from a hunter they had no problem entering.

They also find that like Elyan had said, that only happened through one of the four paths.

Birds were different, the crossed the circle all the time, they also disappeared.

They find that they can throw anything that it’s not alive and nothing would happen, sticks, rocks… but the moment it was alive it disappeared, even if that its a flower.

“This is stupid” Gwaine insisted “Let me try”

“How can we know if you are fine? How do we know if you are alive?” Arthur asked seriously.

How do we know if Merlin is alive? Everyone could hear the actual question.

“It’s useless if we lose you too” with every moment that passes his mood worsened. He felt guilty and humiliated because of his outburst, and the guilty again and sad.

“This is useless” when said and sprung to the circle.

“Gwaine!”

Before anyone could stop him, he stuck his hand into the circle, up to the elbow, and all of the could see how it vanished. Leon pushed him out of the circle and as he got out of the circle his hand came back to its rightful place.

“Oh thank gods” murmured Gwaine.

“You risked your sword arm, you idiot” Leon scolded.

Gwaine was way too happy to care.

“How does it feel?” Arthur asked checking his arm.

“It feels normal, like always, but it was really fast” Gwaine said flexing his hand and arm “Can I try again or will you freak out?”

No one said anything, no one stopped him, when he approached the circle again. He introduced his hand again slowly.

“What it is Gwaine?”

“It’s warm” he said slowly, making the knights confused.It was deep Autumn, and even if some days were warm, most days like this one were just bright and cold, and usually wet, luckily it didn’t feel like it was gonna rain any time soon “Let me see” and pushed further.

“Gwaine! Are you sure it’s safe?” Percival asked grabbing him by the other arm.

“Just don’t let me go, yeah? I still feel my arm, I can move it, It looks like only the part of me that trespasses the circle vanishes, maybe… I don’t know maybe it’s like a door, a portal? like Elyan said”

“To where?” Asked Leon.

“There’s only one way to find out” Gwaine said before pushing himself into the circle up until the waist, while Percival still held him by the other arm.

Gwaine finds that the place it’s similar, almost the same, but the circle it’s not there, there are a few rocks in place and some others around in the ground like someone was constructing this same place, the trees also looked different and like he said it was warm because it looked like a spring day. He came out and told the knights, buthere was no sing of Merlin.

“It’s been three days”

“He might have needed food”

“And water”

“Merlin is smart”

“He is resourceful"

"Check again" said Arthur, carefully "Look for specific hints, footprints, sings of a camp, struggle, something. It's been three days and if you said the weather looks tranquil then there's should be a trace of him" He was nervous, excited, he wanted to believe but he also was terribly afraid.

Gwaine nodded and went back. But something happened, Gwaine whole body tensed, so they pulled him out.

"What happened? Are you ok?"

"It changed!" Gwaine had a alerted gaze focused and confused.

"What changed?"

"Everything!" he tried to calm himself down "Th..I think the place was the same, but it was, suddenly it was night, and there was a hole like someone had been digging, probably for the rocks but... I don't understand, we didn't take long but it looked like days have happened, let me see again" before they could process anything Gwaine went back.

"What do you see Gwaine?" Arthur asked, worry forming a lump in his stomach.

"Gwaine?" Elyan asked too.

"Gwaine!" Percival took that a as a signal and pulled him out.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear us?" Scolded Arthur.

"I didn't hear anything" Gwaine answered genuine "I felt your hand, but I did not hear anything" explained " When I went back, the sun was rising, there were sings of a camp, the fire was recently put out" he kept going "I thought I heard someone but you pulled me out" accused Gwaine.

"How much time did you spend there Gwaine?" Leon asked.

"I don't know, a couple minutes, enough to see the sun rise fully"

"You were there only a few seconds"

They all processed that information in silence for a moment.

"You mean to tell me, that time runs different there"

"It appears to, sire"

"We need to get Merlin out"

"We need rope"

#merthur #au #fanfiction #fanfic #merlin #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #gWAINE #diferent dimensions #bamf merlin #worried knights #protective arthur #idea #merlin x arthur

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featherandferns · 15 days

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pirates : where are they now?

jj maybank x bestfriend!fem!reader

word count: 1.5k.

read pirates | Thank you so so much for 1000 followers!!! Since starting this blog in May of 2023, I have written so many characters and storylines. I get so many lovely anon messages telling me about their favourite universes and wondering what happens next after my fics have ended. So, I thought to celebrate 1000 followers, I’d indulge. Here’s the (current) where are they now for all of my fics so far…

The route to Pirate’s Cove was as familiar to you as the smell of grass and the taste of orange juice. It was as familiar as the feel of JJ’s hand in yours, fingers intertwined just as your lives had been since you were children. In your spare hand you carry an old blanket and in his, he carries a cooler loaded with snacks and seltzers. The birds chirp from trees and there’s the distant rustling of bushes and shrubs hinting of critters lurking. It’s likely that gators bathe in the watery swamps that you pass by but you seem to have finally outgrown your fear. Maybe that’s just JJ’s effect on you, though. He always makes you feel safe.

The transition from friends to lovers was only slightly rocky at first as the two of you found your footing. It felt different changing from referring to one another as ‘friend’ to ‘babe’. It felt almost too easy not to turn when the other was changing though. But none of it was weird or bad, just different. The Pogues had taken your relationship easily. You assumed that most saw it coming from a mile away. That’s what your parents said when you filled them in on yours and JJ’s situation. Of course, the conversation with your parents then nicely bled into the always painful ‘safe sex’ talk.

Now, a year in, you could hardly remember a time when JJ wasn’t your entire world. Can hardly fathom not looking to him as your rock, your shelter and your light. Can hardly comprehend him being your dorky best friend instead of your dorky boyfriend.

“Alright, I got one,” JJ says, “that time when you convinced John B that girls shed their balls at the age of five.”

You immediately crack up, the memory flashing back to you. As you laugh, you feel JJ squeeze your hand just that slightest bit tighter. Something about it makes your smile grow.

“Oh my God, the look of pure horror on his face,” you giggle.

“Swear to God, that’s the most shit-scared I ever seen him,” JJ chuckles, shaking his head at the memory.

“Don’t know why he was acting like I was about to yank his nuts off him,” you snort.

JJ groans at the visual. “Great. Now all I can think about is John B’s balls. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure.

As the journey of reminiscing comes to a close, the two of you approach Pirate’s Cove. The ivy had grown unruly over the years, creating a type of canopy that led into the opening of the cove. Moss covered rocks and water kissed stones; wildflowers and overgrown shrubs; logs for frogs and toads to bask and layers of leaves for critters to call home. The smell of damp soil and pollinated greenery submerges you in memories. As if sharing a thought, the two of you take a pause and look it all over. It felt like a lifetime since you’d returned to the cove. Things have become busy and, quite frankly, chaotic in life lately. The jovial search for treasure revealed some rather dark corners of John B’s life. Now you were lucky to spend your days not running from one square grouper or another. But here, in Pirate’s Cove, the two of you feel safe from the worries of the world. Safe from JJ’s ever angry father. Safe from the madness that came with searching for the Royal Merchant.

This is where you beat JJ in countless imaginary sword fight. This is where you shared your first kiss, rosy cheeked and puppy-fat faced. This is where you first introduced John B to the sacred hideaway. This is where you realised that maybe you liked JJ a little more than just a friend. The years pass you by like scenes of a show, and each rerun fills you with a melancholic joy of times been and gone.

“Rope swing’s still here,” JJ observes, bringing your attention to it.

You smile. “Yep. Still here.”

He finds a comfortable spot near the water, still dry on land, and dumps the cooler. You follow his lead and lay out the blanket and the two of you settle side by side. It’s second nature to rest your head against his upper chest. It’s second nature for him to slip his fingers into yours atop of the blanket. With his free hand he retrieves two cans, cracks them open, and hands one to you.

“Well,” he hums, sounding somewhat nervous, “happy anniversary.”

“One year down, smelly,” you muse.

You clink the lip of your can against his and the two of you sip the icy cool beverage, eyes fixated on the babbling creek. As your eyes slip shut, soaking in the moment, you decide this is happiness. This is bliss. This is your sanctuary and if heaven is real, this is where you hope you’ll find yourself. Sacred ground that only yourself, JJ and John B knew of. But even still, John B knew this was your place more than his. He never went alone - never without yourself and JJ. Kiara and Pope were oblivious to the cove. A crossed heart promise is paramount to keep.

As the day ticks on, you remain resting with your head on JJ’s warm, muscle-tee clad chest, him on his back, both of you drifting between sleep and wake. From time to time, he threads his fingers in your hair and toys. When a thought passes through one of your heads, you share it, and the other usually hums in agreement or acknowledgement. It’s light and easy and comfortable.

“I’m fucking hot,” JJ announces.

“Wanna go for a swim?” you wonder, glancing to the water.

“Fuck yeah,” he agrees, already shifting.

You remove your head from his stomach and the two of you get to your feet. He strips off his shirt and you do the same. Living in Kildare meant living in swimsuits rather than underwear most of the time; it saved the hassle of changing when you inevitably ended up in water. JJ lingers as he waits for you to step out your shorts and the moment you realise, is the moment your childish mind conjures the idea.

Sighing, you place your hands on your waist and look to the water. You’re happily aware that his attention is on your body. One year into this thing and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of having JJ look at you like that.

“It’s probably gonna be cold,” you say.

“Probably,” JJ agrees.

“Mhm,” you hum, pretending to have second thoughts. You glance away from the water and check out the cove. “I’m just thinking–”

“Yeah?”

Your grin gives you away, moments before you blurt, “last one there has to clean the truck!”

You take off into a sprint towards the water, hearing JJ’s cussing behind you as he follows. His hands grab at your waist, pulling you back, fighting you away. Through your laughter, you try to squirm out of his hold. It’s no use though: he’s too strong. He picks you up as if you’re a bag of chips and tosses you over his shoulder. You screech and holler and giggle like crazy, gently slapping his back as he crashes into the water. Then you’re unwillingly dunked under the surface.

You break back to air and shove your wet hair off your face. JJ is lounging in the water, laughing like crazy. You waste no time in lurching yourself at him, battling him down until he’s submerged. He gladly brings you along and under the water, and you feel as if you’re in another world. His hands trace up your arms, onto your shoulders, until one finds purchase on your jawline. You brave opening your eyes and can make out his face through blurry vision, a smile on his sunkissed features, blonde hair fanning out in the water. He guides your lips to his and kisses you until both of you have no choice but to return to the surface for a breath of air. When you do, JJ keeps his hands on your body, coaxing you near to him, not letting you drift apart. His forehead rests against your own.

“I love you,” JJ quietly says.

“I love you too,” you return. The words come as easy as air to the lungs.

“Crossing this line was the best thing we ever did,” he tells you, pulling back far enough to meet your gaze. He tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ears. “Pretty risky move since we could’ve, you know, ruined like nine years of friendship.”

You bite back your laugh and squint jokingly. “Meh, we were never that close anyway.”

Rolling his eyes, JJ pecks your lips. Just as he pulls back, your fingers latch into the tethers of his hair at the back of his neck, keeping him near.

“Nu-uh, smelly. Better kiss me like you mean it.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

#jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #obx #outerbanks #outer banks #jj maybank fic #jj fic #jj x reader fic #jj maybank x reader fic #obx fic #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic #1000 followers #celebration #thank you!

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redrandomposts · 26 days

Text

Gifts to the Crown Prince

After being fed up with their son pursuing cultivation, the XIanle Emperor and Empress had arranged a marriage with a respected omega. The omega now has to win favor in a loveless marriage.

(crown prince!xie lian x hua cheng (kind of))

A wedding with a celebration of three nights descended among the Xianle Kingdom, lanterns lit even in the outskirts of the city. The crown prince had a wife, and it was the most joyous news of the century in the kingdom.

Hua Cheng would say the same - he had spent years building a name for himself, ever since he was saved by his highness - if his highness didn't seem to hold animosity toward him.

He had only seen his highness twice since they were married. It's been an entire week since the wedding! On their wedding night, Xie Lian had given him a mating mark and they laid stiffly next to each other. When Hua Cheng awoke on dawn, his highness had left with not a bit of warmth on his spot of the bed. The last was a coincidence, barely a glimpse, at his highness training.

(Did his highness really hate Hua Cheng so much?)

Hua Cheng would take what he could get though. He's married his highness, so there surely has to be something he could do.

===

Xie Lian didn't hate his...spouse, as much as anyone would suggest. He just hated the idea of having a spouse, of one day breaking his cultivation clause. And it may bleed a bit onto his impression of his spouse, so he'd taken to avoiding him.

It had been a week since their marriage, and he'd successfully avoided his problems. Even Mu Qing had commented about it. So, for the day, he was also avoiding his attendants, swinging his sword in an empty, unused courtyard.

"Your Highness." A beta servant stood at the doorway, holding a scroll. Xie Lian supposed this was his spouse's servant, because he wore red with simple, silver embroidery. No other servant in the palace wore such a color.

"What does he want?" Xie Lian asked, knowing that the other would know he's talking about his spouse. It was quite a bit since their marriage, so he'd expected to be summoned by his spouse once.

The servant was drawn in on himself. "No, no, he doesn't want anything... He has simply wished to gift your highness a painting. This one was unsure of where this should go."

Xie Lian hardly glanced at the painting, gesturing to a stone bench. "Place it there. I will bring it to my rooms after I'm done training."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Xie Lian didn't watch as the servant left it there and scurried away, focused on going back to his training.

That night, he unraveled the scroll to see a lovely mountain range, reflecting into a winding river. He might be more interested in swords, but the art must be praised. He wondered who the painter was as he hung the scroll.

===

Hua Cheng refused to be disheartened by his husband. The fact he took the scroll meant he had a chance at befriending him at the least.

He wiped off his makeup as he shapeshifted into his true form, throwing the simple robes into a corner.

Perhaps Xie Lian would accept another one of his paintings, or if he would get bored of it quickly. Remembering Xie Lian's earlier dismissal, Hua Cheng should do something different.

He knew one thing his husband loved; swords. He could paint a thousand paintings, yet it would not be worth the weight of a single sword to his highness.

As an omega, he wasn't even allowed to do such heavy work, but his ability to shapeshift into an unassuming beta lets him into the forgery easily. He's a quick learner, perhaps, with how fast he learned to forge a sword. Forging one worthy of his highness, however...

That week, he sent yet another painting while he forged sword after sword until he perfects it.

===

Two months into their marriage, Xie Lian sees no hint of his spouse since the first week. However, his spouse had sent painting after painting each week, and Xie Lian was running out of room on the walls to hang the scrolls. Each painting was a beauty that deserved to be displayed. His parents had even liked the paintings, and had lowered the intensity of nagging after seeing them. (Perhaps, they could smell his spouse from each painting. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, they were elated he was seemingly getting along with his arranged lover.)

Still, they were beauties. Perhaps that was why he felt less-than pleased when the servant didn't appear on the day he'd normally appear with a scroll in hand.

This disappointment had swiftly faded the next day, when the servant had shown up with a sword in hand, presenting it to him. It looked as if it was only a ceremonial sword, yet Xie Lian could tell - this sword was just as functional and sharp as it was beautiful.

He displayed it as the centerpiece in his room after training with it once. In the future, he'd polish it again and again so it'd forever stay beautiful.

===

The sword had been an overwhelming success. Hua Cheng had seen it; the way his highness' eyes had lit up at the sight of it. However, forging it had been too time-consuming. He'd be able to get a sword a month at the rate he forged it. His highness deserved more than that.

So forging had become a thing he did in the background; he was left with trying to find something new to gift his highness.

It had come a day when he - in his servant disguise, strolling through the market - encountered a solution. Folding paper to make shapes.

At first, it was simple - a sword, a flower, small decoration pieces that he paired with the paintings. Soon, he wrote illegible things on it that would allow folded birds to fly and folded flowers to bloom when embued with spiritual power. But he has to go further, further, further; his highness deserved only the best.

So what if he had to spend sleepless nights painting and folding to make a puppet-esque play with the origami figures? His highness deserved no less.

===

Xie Lian didn't understand. He had seen his spouse only once, when he left his mark on their wedding night. Why did his spouse continue to send him paintings each week, beautiful flowers from paper that could bloom, and swords bimonthly? It's been six months, and it seemed that the gifts had only grown in quality.

Even Mu Qing and Feng Xin were puzzled. The only person he could get an answer from, presently, was his spouse or his spouse's servant.

...Speaking of which, had not appeared yet today. A feeling inside him bubbled up. He was worried.

He put the sword he'd been training with away, then wandered to the hall his spouse lived in. It was a bit far from the main palace, but it was not lacking. His parents had put the utmost effort into his spouse; the gardens, the architecture, even the talismans placed on it were of top quality.

He opened the door. An overbearing yet pleasant smell had filled the hall.

...It seemed his spouse was in heat.

=============

okay so omegaverse only so i have a reason that they can get married

plotholes? who? no, idk how hua cheng was able to become xie lian's husband. no, idk how he can shapeshift just accept it

i have a...feeling crown prince xl is really stubborn and oblivious. no, he doesn't want a husband, so he'll ignore the problem. no, he doesn't know who the strange servant is. no, he doesn't know it was his husband who painted each painting. no, he doesn't know his husband had forged the swords. he might be able to accept his husband can do origami.

Do they fuck? i mean, it's open-ended, but... in my head, they don't. hc might be too young to go through sexual heats. xl simply helps his husband through heat by cooking him food (counter productive? not for hua cheng!) and fetching him things. they nest together and scent together and form a close bond during the week.

you can think of the central idea like this: after three to seven years from the festival, they get married. so. it's ancient china, and i don't want to extend a plot so long. it might even follow canon, albeit delayed.

how was my writing? im seeking to improve it.

#tgcf #xie lian #hua cheng #arranged marriage #au idea #hualian #omegaverse ig but they dont fuck #pre-ascension #crown prince xie lian #there's not really any romance #just hua cheng trying to woo xie lian #what else is new

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bokettochild · 7 months

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For the febwhump:

Day 10 with little legend in ALTTP and killing a knight for the first time?

Okay, so Legend wasn't really talking (shock and grief do that, it's okay) so this is Fable's POV. I hope you enjoy it!

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 4,985

Summary: Death is familiar to the little girl who will one day be queen. To the boy she had to ask to be her champion, not so much.

Zelda has never particularly thought about death before.

Sure, mother and father were betrayed and killed by a dear friend, and she knows this, but it’s just as much a fact of life to her as the stones of the castle and the swords in the hands of her grandfather’s knights. Death exists and she’s seen it, seen public executions held for terrible criminals and traitors to the crown, but even to her tender years these things are simply part of life. The people who die are always faceless people who don’t matter anymore, and she’d never known her parents anyway, so why should she mourn for them?

She’s heard the castle staff call her a ‘cold little thing’, but in a world where her destiny is to wait for the next escape of a demon she or her descendants must face, how can they blame her? Especially since most of the staff don’t seem to like her much anyway, or Grandfather. She gets the idea that the king of Hyrule isn’t liked at all by most people, but she doesn’t know why and she’s long since given up asking. The knights only assure her with their loyalty and the servants excuse themselves under the pretext of having chores to attend to.

It’s alright, she doesn’t really care what they think. She doesn’t really care about them either.

That is, until suddenly her maid is dead and she’s being hauled down to a dungeon by soldiers who now do not swear their allegiance with charming smiles, but who march, stone-faced, to lock her up, despite her demands to know what’s going on, what they think they’re doing, and what on earth is wrong with them. She can feel it, a heavy magic settled over them, and she doesn’t blame them for their actions, since she knows they aren’t in control, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying when she’s tossed into the cold stone cell and left there, locked up like one of Grandfather’s prisoners. Calls into the darkness for answers go unheard, and as the night drags on, all she can do is wish, wish, wish for someone to please just answer, to get her out.

Maybe the servants wouldn’t call her a cold little thing if they could see her curled up in her cell, pretty dress ruined and golden hair dirty, sobbing her eyes out into her skirts, but they aren’t here. She doesn’t even know if they’re alive. She doesn’t mourn them either, although there's some distant idea of sadness that their families might not see them again and that they don’t deserve to die just because of whatever it is that’s happening. Still, death isn’t a very present thought in her mind until at last, she manages to catch wind of what’s going on.

Aganim, her father’s old friend and counselor, who’s been serving her grandfather for some time now, has betrayed them, has taken control of the minds of their knights, and now intends to re-open the Sacred Realm, which her ancestors sealed, in order to- like so many other foolish, foolish people- try and obtain the Triforce. To do it, he must first gain the power of the seven sages and the princess herself, and based on what little she knows of dark magic, she’s rather sure he’s not just going to ask them all nicely.

She needs to get out, desperately. She needs to get out before Aganim uses her magic to open the way to the realm where Ganon is sealed! She needs to get out before he kills her, using her like an offering, just like what almost happened to the Spirit Maiden all those thousands of years ago!

Her wishes and cries to the heavens grow more and more desperate. A call to anyone, just anyone, to please just come and help her!

“Who's calling to me?” The answering voice startles her, makes her pull her head up and look around, trying to see the person speaking. The voice sounds almost like her own, but tired, so tired, and somewhat confused.

She feels the same. She hasn’t been able to rest all day, attending to her studies, and now she’s spending the night in a dungeon, away from feathered pillows and heavy blankets and any small semblance of warmth. She wants out, but here, at last, someone’s heard her.

“My name is Zelda,” she says back, wishes back. She doesn’t think there’s a person here with her, just a voice.

She’s heard those favored by the Triforce can gain strange power, but being able to send and receive thoughts isn’t something she’d been counting on. Still, she’s not complaining, and she’s not going to question it either, just as long as she can get out of here and back to someplace safe.

Oh heavens, is grandfather safe? Will Aganim do anything to him? He doesn’t have powers to use and he’s not much of a threat these days, not without anyone to back him up. Will the wizard maybe let her grandfather go? Just lock him up or hide him or not let him do anything? Is he under control of the wizard too, like the knights?

“I’m Link,” the voice answers, still confused, still tired, still sounding too young to do her any good.

She’s no adult herself, but everyone else is. Still, maybe he can tell someone? Maybe he can send help? At least someone can hear her, she’s not going to give up just because they sound like they’re her age! “Help! I’m Zelda! I��m trapped in the castle dungeons! Please, send some help!”

Like a ribbon slipping between her fingers, the presence she could feel answering her; the warmth and light and ray of hope, slips away, no voice answering in return. She slumps down onto the stone again, sobbing. It’s not fair! She hasn’t done anything wrong! She doesn’t understand! Why is this happening? Why would her father’s old friend do this to them? Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why is the only one to hear her a child?

Just a boy. Just some kid out there who probably doesn’t know how to get around in a castle or how to deal with a knight or a wizard. Just a kid, and she knows, she knows, kids never get listened to! No one listens to her, and she’s the princess! So why would anyone listen to a random kid? Especially one who tries to say that the princess is in danger, when most people don’t like royals to begin with, and anyway, no one’s going to believe that sort of thing! As far as anyone outside the castle probably thinks, she’s all tucked up in her big bed, just finished with dinner, and drifting off to sleep. Who’d bother to check and see otherwise? Especially if it’s only at the behest of a child!

Maybe some people think she’s cold, but the sobs that ring through the dungeons sound terribly awful to her, and it’s enough to make her cry harder, because try as she might, the sounds and sights of crying just makes her cry, no matter how much she fights it. Her own tears echo back off the stone, like the wailing of some tortured soul, and her mind flies off to what and who might have been here before her.

What sorts of people have lived in these dungeons? Died in these dungeons? Where there ever any little girls like her? Did they die down here? Did they escape? Did they have mums and dads to try and get them out, to hold them, or did they get left down here like she is? Just sobbing and crying with no one to hear them until they died and did whatever dead things do.

The old books say that dead things are monsters that wander around, long and thin with ghastly smiles, and attack heroes and knights when they come too close. What if that sort of a dead-monster is down here? Gibdoes, she thinks they’re called, or is it redeads? Whatever they are, she doesn’t want them to be down here. She’d much rather be alone and forgotten than be found by something so awful.

Except she won’t be forgotten, her mind whispers, and it’s not such a comforting thought as she wishes it was. Aganim knows she’s here, and he wants to keep her here until he’s ready to sacrifice her, split her open and make her blood spill to give power to his spell.

She’s seen heads chopped off before, but they were far away and not important. She didn’t care who they were, because it didn’t matter once they were dead and she couldn’t do anything about it anyway. Will other people think about her that way? Will it not matter? Impa will care, and Grandfather too- if he’s still okay, if he finds out, but who else will care? The knights who are nice to her are now mean and cold, and the servants never liked her anyway. The thought of being forgotten is worse than the idea of turning into a dead monster and trying to eat people- or something, but she’s all out of sobs and her eyes hurt from crying.

It doesn’t matter anyways, no one can hear her either way.

Or, rather, she thought so, only there’s the sound of feet in the hall. Feet that patter softly and do not thud and thump like the heavy boots that knights wear or swish and shuffle like the wizard in his great heavy robe. No, they creep slowly across the stone, slow and unsure, like a deer coming slowly out of the trees. They move quietly and quickly, but hesitate, and that alone tells her it’s not a rambling, long dead evil that wanders the halls, nor a servant or soldier who knows this castle. It's not feet she knows, but foreign feet are her best chance of getting out, so she pulls herself up, wipes away what’s left of her tears, and moves to peek through the bars of her cell and out into the hall.

She cannot see anything but stone. Whomever crafted these cells had no intention of allowing the occupants to see what was happening anywhere save just in front of the door.

She can still hear though. She can hear the quiet, unsure tapping of boots. More importantly though, she can feel, and that delicate, evasive ribbon of hope drifts back into her hands, a light presence making itself know in the darkness around her, like a candle coming alight befgore her tired and puffy eyes.

The boy.

Link.

She isn’t sure why he’s here, alone, but at least someone is trying. It’s more than she supposes some people would do, and at least he listened to her, which is far more than most people have done! His steps are wary, but she calls out, with her mind, like before, rather than her voice, urging him closer, telling him that’s he’s close, almost there. Just a little further and he’ll be here and maybe, just maybe, they can figure out some way to get this prison open, or at least she can tell him what’s going on so he can tell someone else.

If the Sacred Realm is unsealed, Ganon will be set free, and the people of Hyrule are not prepared for that. They need to send warning- she needs to send warning, needs to tell someone and get the word out, to give something to her people so they know that things aren’t as they seem, that they’re sitting on the edge of a precipice, too close to the fiery hell before them. Her history books talk about a time when Ganon won, when he ruled their kingdom. She doesn’t want that for them, especially because she’s heard grandfather say they’ve only just recovered from that war. They can’t take it again. Hyrule needs peace. She doesn’t think peace is likely, but maybe they can stop too much of the world from being hurt by the evil magic, if they stop Aganim before he can do anything more.

The feet stop.

She can hear breathing now, soft and rattling somewhat, like her own does as she tries so hard to look through the bars of her prison. Has he been crying, like she has? Come to think of it, if she, locked up and also away from anything else in here, is scared, how must it be for some common boy who’s probably never been in the castle? Or the dungeons much less? For all she knows, he might have been here before, to visit someone or say goodbye before an execution, but still! He’s got to be at least a little scared too.

She tries reaching out, listening again. His voice had been tired then, but she’d heard it, heard it from far away (because she knows there aren’t any little boys in the castle; she’s the only one her age). She could hear it then, so he, like her, must have been able to catch ahold of her thoughts, sent out like a wish to the stars she can’t see from in here. That means maybe she can reach out and hear his!

Except that the sound of a loud clang makes her jump, startle back and fall over, unable to see what it was that made the sound, but well able to hear what’s happening, and tell that it’s very close indeed. There’s a scuffle, a gasp that shudders before there’s panting, feet skidding over stone and another loud clang.

It sounds like the executioner’s axe on the stone of a courtyard.

“Shit!”

It’s him. It's Link. That's his voice, breathing and panting and gasping as she hears another clang, this time the blade screeching off of stone.

Desperately, she moves along the bars of her cell, trying to see out, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s happening. She’d call out, but Grandfather always told her to keep quiet if she hears things that worry her. Enemies might be close and she should never make it known where she’s hiding, because that puts her and anyone with her in danger, and princesses should not put people in danger if they can help it. So, she keeps her mouth shut, and her ears open.

Light feet dart, this time without hesitation, a hiss of breath that maybe carries soft words on it sounding, as well as the rasping of a second voice, breathing within something. Breathing within something heavy and thick, making it echo. It sounds like a knight, one with one of those very big and scary helmets that Grandfather makes them take off if she’s around, so she can see their real faces instead of the cold iron ones.

She hopes it’s not a knight.

The sound of an axe hitting stone, yet again, says it might be.

Link’s voice is panting, feet darting. She hears a hiss of steel, a sword drawing, and then there are a series of very loud blows. There’s yelps and shouts from Link, but nothing from the heavy, echoing breather, just the slam of an axe, again and again.

She can’t do anything. She can’t help or watch and she can only hear the awful sounds, the cry of pain from what she thinks has to be Link, and the clang, clang, clang of blades on stone, on armor, or on each other. She can only sit. Only sit and hope.

No, she can pray. Grandfather says that her lineage, that mother and grandmother and all of them, that their prayers mean something extra special, because they have power from the heavens. When bad things happen, even if he won’t let her know what, he always tells her to pray. Pray for their people and the kingdom and for him, so he’ll do what he should, or can figure out what to do. She always does. Impa takes her to the little prayer rooms in the castle, or sometimes down to the church, and she offers prayers between her studies and her meals until Grandfather tells her that things are better again. She may not be good at a lot, but she has lots of practice praying, so even though the cell floor is so dirty and the clanging of weapons is nothing like the deep ringing of bells, she still kneels and prays as hard as she can. Prays until she hears a scream and a shout and heavy thud.

The clanging stops.

She keeps praying. Please let Link have won. She doesn’t know how (unless maybe he’s a squire? Yes that could work!) but she needs it to be him who won. She needs to know that the only person who can hear her call for help is indeed the one who’s still standing, because she doesn’t know if she can handle having hope stray so close only to be torn away at the very last of seconds.

Soft, gently scuffing boots creep across the floor again, heavy panting, like a fawn just escaped from a hunter, peeking out to see if it’s safe once more.

“Link? Is that you?” She doesn’t get up, keeps her hands folded, she’s got to be ready to start praying for help again if it isn’t.

The voice that answers back is gentle candle-light and warmth, although it shakes and stammers. “M-Miss Zelda?” She doesn’t have time to get up before feet move closer and then there’s a boy standing in front of her. He’s short, maybe her height but probably a bit shorter, with messy pink hair hastily tucked under a green cap. His eyes are wide and blown out in the darkness, but the lantern in his hand makes them dance a bit too, almost red. Red to match the blood that spatters up and across his front, covers his boots and still touches his hands and the cloak wrapped up around him. “Are you okay?”

She blinks. Is she okay? Why is he asking that? She’s the one who just sat in here, praying, untouched, and he was the one that fought...whatever it is that he just fought. “I’m alright. Are you? You’re covered in blood...”

He winces, looks away, doesn’t look down and instead his flickering eyes dart all over everything else, as if desperate to not think about the fresh crimson all over him. “I’m okay.” And then, a moment later. “It’s....it’s not mine.”

His tunic is ripped a bit on one side, and she can see where damage has been done, but she doesn’t challenge him. Boys are funny, Impa says, and if you tell them they’re wrong they pout and throw a fit and won't listen to you anymore. Link’s the first person who’s listened in a long time; she doesn’t want to lose that. Instead, she just nods, doubtful, but doesn’t say anything. It’s not like either of them can do anything about it anyways. She can’t heal and there’s nothing she can offer him either.

He glances at her, and she recognizes abruptly that his eyes are terribly vacant. He’s there, he sees her, but he doesn’t seem to register anything else, just stare at her dumbly, like he’s not all inside his head.

“Did you happen to see a key somewhere?” It’s sort of a reach, since she doubts that the wizard would make it that easy, but the flickering crimson eyes turn back again towards the way he’d come from, and she can see him shudder, revulsion briefly marring his otherwise rather pretty features.

He nods. “Yeah.” There’s no waiting for her to say anything, just the setting down of the lantern in his hand, an old thing but well-tended, and he moves back out of her sight again. There’s some shuddering and catching of breath, rustling and clanking, and a squelch she supposes might be blood. He’s back again a moment or so later, slower than before, but holding the keys. They’re also covered in blood. He’s got more on him too, but his dull eyes are focused on the door, on unlocking it and pushing it open, and she’s quick to stand when he does.

She will not stay any longer, not now that there’s a way out. She’s not sure which of them took the other’s hand first, but as she tells him where to go, he leading the way with the light and with a still dripping sword on his back, and she following, it doesn’t matter. She follows past the fallen corpse of what she recognizes as the royal executioner, through the halls that run rampant with rats, trudging through sewers and mire and muck. The ground underfoot squelches, making her stomach churn. The quickly cooling blood that smears over her hand from Link’s own only makes it worse, and she fights back the urge to pull away. She has to stay with him though; he’s her only hope and only protector, there’s no other way out and she can’t do this alone.

They walk and walk, and she’d never realized before how many traps and dangers lay between the castle and the many hidden exits it possesses. The tunnel is cold, is wet, is damp, and once they exit again into the outside world, she finds it’s much the same. Rain beats down, lighting flashing overhead and thunder booming in their ears as they dart across the open spaces of Hyrule Field. Now out of the castle, she’s not sure what they ought to be doing, but she follows him. She’s never allowed outside alone, but he’ll know this land well, he’ll have lived here. He’ll know enough to hopefully know a safe place for them to hide. Still, it’s terrifying. She’s never seen the world flash like this, never slipped and tripped and made herself this muddy before. Link wraps her in his cloak, eyes still blank and distant, hands deft and fumbling, and while it’s warmer, by just a bit, it smells terribly of blood. Still, it’s better than nothing.

In time, through the rain, she can make out a familiar structure. Almost like a second home for how often she’s been there; the church rises up before them with it’s spires and glittering windows, bells chiming twice and twice only, just as they’re hurrying up towards the doors. She knows they’ll be unlocked.

They are.

Link pushes them open with some trouble, more than they require at any rate, but it’s only then that she realizes that he’s shaking. Not from cold, she doesn’t think, otherwise it would have started far earlier, he would have been shaking when he first came to her, because he was soaked then too, wet and spattered in muck from the sewers as well as the blood. No, now he’s shaking so violently that she finds herself reaching to take the lantern from his hand the moment they're inside the dimly lit sanctuary.

“Princess Zelda?” The familiar voice of the church Father catches her attention, making her turn from her companion to face the man. It’s two in the morning by the ring of the bells, and she can’t fathom why he’s awake, but there’s a candle burning and the smell of incense in the air, familiar and, like Link himself, an assuring presence that makes her heart stop the pounding in her chest, settling instead with a heavy sigh and soft cry she didn’t know was still left in her.

The Father hurries towards them, and while she’s always been taught to be reverent, she can’t help but throw herself into open arms, shaking and trembling herself as his hand soothes her hair, warm, creaking voice- ancient as the trees she thinks sometimes, sounding in words she doesn’t bother to hear.

They’re brought in and given warm blankets, and the bell-ringer appears to offer them warm tea, which she drinks slowly while the Father sits between them. Relief is a strange thing, a foreign thing, but she accepts it the same way she’s been taught to accept her other confusing feelings, sitting and listening to her heart and letting her mind spin until it finds itself too tired to keep on spinning. Soft prayers and the sound of rain fill her ears, and when at last she’s got a handle on herself again, she turns to look at her savior.

Link is still shaking, arms wrapped tightly about himself and eyes vacant.

She reaches out, not with her hands, but with the thoughts in her head, like before, and this time there’s no sudden noise to disrupt it. Link’s thoughts are far more jumbled and spinning than even her own.

‘-didn’t mean to, I didn’t! I- oh heavens, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t! I- he's dead, I killed him he died and I- I- oh heaven help! I didn’t want to! I didn’t-” he’s shaking, teeth gnawing his lip and eyes slipping closed. ‘We’re safe, we’re safe, we’re safe. I got Miss- Princess Zelda is safe and I got her here and I didn’t end up crying and I didn’t let her down. God, she must have been so scared, I know I was, let her be okay? It must have been awful being locked up in there! I- I couldn’t-” he’s shaking his head, hands plucking at is sleeves, at the blanket. Even with the rain, there’s still bits of blood stuck about his nails and the cuffs of his sleeves, and he seems acutely aware of that fact. His mind spins so much she’s dizzy just listening, hearing him worry first for her and then be washed over with regret at killing, only to them have his mind drift to death and watching people die and-

Zelda is struck with the sudden realization that Link, unlike herself, is not accustomed to death. She’s seen it enough times that seeing a body only brings disgust and discomfort, but sadness does not wash over her to see an enemy laid low. She’d only thought to avoid the pooling blood as passing the slain knight outside of her cell, but Link is actively experiencing regret for ending said knight’s life.

“Link?

The Father turns at her words, but the boy does not, instead rocking slowly as too fast breaths escape him.

“Link, dear boy, can you hear me?” It’s such a relief to release it to the Father and let him try to get the attention of her savior, the man turning fully towards the curled up little boy, one hand settling on his shoulder.

Link does not respond.

The father’s hand slips to rub across trembling shoudlers, steady, soothing motions as his voice, warm and soft, continues. “I do not know what brought you here at this hour, but you are safe here, my son. It is alright.”

“M-Miss-”

“The princess is alright.” The Father assures. “She is safe here as well, and no one will hurt her.”

There’s a small sob from her companion and she can hear his thoughts, the raging swell of the becoming less and less an effort to hear, instead pushing back against her, pushing out and demanding release, pouring into her own mind with terrifying clarity. Pain, anguish, regret, fear, guilt, overwhelming sadness. The ever-present thought of “be strong for her, she looks so scared” makes something inside her own heart twist up and her own breath catch.

“You got me out,” she murmurs, because speaking aloud seems almost wrong in the silence and peace of the otherwise empty church, “thank you.”

Dull eyes fall, Link burying his face in his arms with a sob that has tears pricking at her own eyes all over again. Shre’s always been weak to tears, a fault that Grandfather has warned her must be controlled, lest it be used against her, but she can’t help but cry along with the boy beside her, even as the Father comforts them.

Maybe she’s used to death, but he isn’t. More so though, he’s the one who swung the blade. He had killed a man, killed for her and soiled hands that no doubt had never caused harm further than a fight with friends or other such mischief that common children are allowed to get up to. Blood is new to him, terrifying still, not something he was raised watching be spilled, not something he expects.

His clothes are soaked with it. Even though a potion was given to him, prompted slowly to his lips and choked down dumbly, he’s got his own blood and that of the fallen knights both spattered over him, staining his clothes. It’s not only theirs though, because her peeks into his thoughts grant her visions of a man, in the same dungeons as they had been, wounded and bleeding out, of this same boy, only moments before finding her, finding said man and pleading, fighting against the flow of blood, of tears on his face and hurt in his heart. He’d lost someone just before coming to her. He’d been blank even before killing, forcing himself onwards to help her, guided only by the final words of the dead man in the sewers. He’d wandered and been chased, had faught a foe three times his own size, been forced to thrust a sword that’s too big for him into the heart of a man after just seeing the effects of the same.

Death is following this boy, biting at his heels tonight, and the more their thoughts bleed together in her head, the more the weight of what has happened hits her.

He’s killed for her, and with the knights taken over and the only ones on her side being the Father and this boy, she might have to ask him to do it again.

#alttp #a link to the past #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu fable #ketto writes #asks and answers #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #tw death #tw blood

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