#prince of crimson tides

[gladiatorcunt]

- A BLACK RAM AND A BLACK EWE | XI.

unable are the loved to die for love is immortality

nay, it is deity. unable they that love - to die

for love reforms vitality into divinity.

cw: kinktober prompt (blood), vampire!aemond, reader has a vagina, reincarnated reader from my first kinktober w/ aemond, body horror & body horror fantasies involving his eye, “bride” mentioned but it’s relating to dracula, not quite modern times as in the immediate present 2024 but at least a millennium after house of the dragon (at least after dracula came out) , reader is intentionally silent, blood loss & hazy vibes you are just going through the motions,

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“What am I to you, sir?”

A fish to be gutted, you’ll be too empty to be whole without me. “The tide that turns in my favor.”

You wear your own freshly spilled blood like a new dress. A gift for being a wandering traveler and a curious historian, Westeros is a country with so much backstory and you’ve spent all your life only scratching the surface. It’s different from the Kings and Queens of the olden days obviously, though those titles remain in use loosely today. You have recurring dreams where you’re one of them, hanging off a prince's arm, tenderly pecking the corner of his dead jeweled eye, and waving to all the people below you.

Roars of an old gargantuan dragon haunt you, when your car engine won’t start, when your tea kettle freaks out, when the world is silent enough to be left alone with your thoughts. You’ve become obsessed because the only connection you feel is to a world that existed almost a thousand years ago.

Dracula, you’ve wandered into this crumbling red castle as a curious academic only to end up as a bride. Perhaps the locks are clicking into place, history repeated, you passed portraits of a royal who bears a more than striking resemblance to you before the decrepit creature looming in the shadows noticed it too.

“Your clothing is still in your chambers, I have each piece cleaned every moon.”

Aemond, your mind whispers you that name, trails bloody kisses from your weeping neck down to your weeping cunt, inhaling the iron musk simmering under your folds.

“Transcendent. It takes me back in time, my rose. So slack and willing too, of course my darling would not require being compelled to spread their legs for their husband.”

He stands upright, swiftly turning your around so your back is flush against the cold stone of the castle wall.

You take initiative, raising your leg to hang your heel on his shoulder, resting the limb against his torso. Aemond curls a hand around the back of your knee, keeping you splayed open in this position even past the point of pain.

He nudges his hard cock between the lips of your cunny, gliding it through your wetness but never plunging inside. The aphrodisiac from his bite would have you eager enough to not need any preparation, but he fingered you with your blood dripping off his fingers anyway. Partly for the sake of keeping your nectar where it belongs and partly because he wants to paint your statuesque form with your crimson, a painter of a single subject. You’re his muse even now, fueling the melancholic isolation instead of the ravenous war.

You whine weakly, irritated because there’s little room to writhe and roll your hips into him. “Please, sir, husband, I-i’m lightheaded, just fuck me already.”

Aemond chuckles and gently parts your folds with the red tip of his cock, giving your pearl a thousand little kisses. He eats with his eye, the scarlet liquid lubing his length and surrounding it as he warms himself in the chubby cradle of your mound. He’s not normally such a messy eater, but reuniting with your beloved after centuries will drive a man of the night to places he would not go with a sword atop his dragon.

“Shh, my love. The creaking doors in your mind will be right as rain in just a moment, this cunt must be starving, just as I am. We understand each other, this delicious little cunny and I.” He rasps into your ear, encouraging you to slide your hands in his long flowing hair by tilting his head back.

You flutter like a moth into a bonfire and create a path of bloodied handprints up his muscular back and into his silver hair. You’re getting it all dirty now, but Aemond closes his eye and moans hoarsely, as if you have given him a great and uncomparable gift.

He’ll ask you to braid it after, the red intertwining with the near white, your husband now the last weirwood tree in a Godswood.

You project the thought of squirting in his empty eye socket, sitting on his face and positioning your pussy right over the gaping wound. To feel the scarred flesh squelch and twitch, only seeing your cunt in its shadow. Charred black, the bits of wriggling skin remind you of burnt bacon. You both are silent then too, preferring to wade in the waters of comfortable silence because what words are needing for this consummation other than screams?

Aemond is not easy to provoke, in truth, it takes years after years of relentless and snide jabs and barbs for him to go off the deep end into the God’s Eye. However, you have been sunken and ghostly longer than he had been poked at by his brother or the strong bastard dyad. The moment he caught the scent of the ripe fruit in the middle of your thighs was his last brush with sanity.

You wail when he plunges to the depths of you without any warning, only a guttural cross between a hiss and a snarl. Aemond squishes you into the wall of what was once the throne room, where he had dreamed of taking you completely naked and unrestrained until all the new citizens of the kingdom were your children.

You only had the one before the dance, before you were slain like a sheep devoured by an uncaring beast.

“No matter.” He declares aloud. “What better conception tale could we spin for our offspring than this, my rose? With a cunt as tight as yours, strangling me in the same godsdamned fashion, I fear it will be quite short.”

Your blood sticks his skin to yours, the wet smacks of your chests pushing and pulling apart like magnets compete with the squelches his cock makes in your bloody cunt. You thread your fingers through his hair, increasingly strengthening your grip to entice him into a violent kiss.

New blood gushes from your bitten lips and oh if you knew the humiliation Prince Aemond would have felt back then to be lapping at them, hungrier than a mangy dog and grotesquely beautiful. Your head spins, wobbling back and forth on the precipice of a dark cliff. He laughs, genuine in his happiness as he places your head in the crook of his neck.

“Do not fret, I shan't feel a thing, beloved. I crave your teeth in my neck like nothing else.” He coos, an order and not a suggestion.

Your husband's blood runs down his body onto yours when you bluntly bite down after a few clumsy tries, aged wine mixing with the freshly harvested. You feel the burn in your stretched leg as he speeds up his thrusts to fuck you back into the wall, so you teasingly apply kitten licks to the minor bite wound.

You’re making a gruesome mess, bone deep groans and swathed in life’s essence. Aemond’s cock spears you like he’s truly out to kill you, stabbing into your cervix with a passionate rhythm. The gory sight of your combined blood trickling down to the floor from his pendulous balls is driving him to madness. Through the shallow connection he can sense that the earlier blood loss and newly regained high from his devotion have you at your peak.

“There you are, my treasure back where they belong. In my home, on my cock, your magnificent body is bleeding dry for me.”

The hand not holding your leg grasps onto your bouncing breast, his talons scrape your pebbled nipple, pinching the bud as a means of fastening the learned brutality of his affection with a shiny bow.

“This is the wedding in the traditions of my valyrian ancestors that my grandsire never let us have, is that not greatly amusing?” Aemond jokes as you lick into his mouth to harass his fangs.

Your mind is lost in the sanguinary love making that follows, snatched by the claws of a greedy dragon.

A soul born in winter, never to flower in the spring.

[loveforneteyam]

❝your mighty warrior❞ ( I. )

golden eyes

summary: you never thought you'd see your lover's golden eyes again. and when you did, he didn't recognize a single part of you. pairing: neteyam x omaticaya!reader wordcount: 2.8k contains: angst, major spoilers for atwow, mentions of character death, blood, memory loss, sad guilty lo'ak, lo’ak x reader is platonic! notes: the first part, here we go! if i get things with the timeline messed up just ignore it haha. my heart breaks for lo'ak in this, but i hope you all enjoy!

paskalin : term of endearment oeyä tìyawn : my love tanhí : small, bioluminescent freckles

masterlist | series

The water is still in the night. Its chaos—violent waves that crash and collide—disappears once the darkness blankets over the sky. The surface of the water reflects the stars, small freckles of light in the face of the ocean. Although gentle tides push and pull, the vast sea is silent as it sleeps.

There is a beat to be heard; a pulse from under the water, under the ocean floor, from the very core of Pandora. A strong, mighty rhythm that shakes the ground. But this heartbeat does not come from the Great Mother.

In the quiet of the night, the reflection of the sky in the ocean is disrupted. Calloused fingers break through the barrier, reaching past the thin veil. He grasps the air like a rope. The crown of his head splits the sea in half. The moon pulls him to her; his body, strong and powerful, ascends.

──

It was his mother who pressed his eyes closed when they were void of life. The blank face of your lover glared into your soul. The grip he had on your hand--desperately clinging onto you like it would heal the hole in his heart--vanished, and you were left to imagine his fingers were still intertwined with yours.

You remember the wave of realization on his father's face, how his ears slightly dropped and his bottom lip quivered when he noticed that the bullet had gone straight through his eldest son's chest. Crimson collected in his shaking palms. You knew then that there was nothing to be done. Nothing except to sit next to Neteyam, your prince, as his soul moved onto the Great Mother.

His funeral was inevitable. After the war was over, it was time for the Suli's to say goodbye. You stayed with his brother, Lo'ak's hands placed in yours, as Neteyam slowly sank deeper towards the ocean floor. His frame became smaller and smaller, until he was completely engulfed by luminescent tendrils. Your lover was no more.

The family struggled to carry on without him. You remained close with his siblings, thankfully. Kiri mourned by your side. For a time, it had been just her and Neteyam. He was born less than a month before her and she considered him to be her twin. Tuk was young, but old enough to understand, “He is with Eywa”.

Lo'ak, however, was almost never to be seen. If you managed to catch a glimpse of him, he was silent and reclusive. He even ignored Tsireya, who asked you multiple times if he was alright; you never had an answer.

Despite your great loss, the village of Awa'atlu continued on. Every morning, the fishermen and farmers rose early, the healers prepared their supplies, and the hunters readied their ilus to dive through the sea.

Life continued on as if Neteyam's soul had never been ripped out of your blood-soaked hands, as if his eyes had never looked their last to you. It broke your heart.

──

Although Jake Suli had finally recognized his youngest son for his true potential, it was too late. Lo'ak put the blame for Neteyam's death on himself. He accepted that he would forever carry that weight with him, no matter where he ran to or hid.

You knew that when he was nowhere to be found, he was somewhere far off in the sea on Payakan's fin. He stayed out late and missed ceremonies and Suli family meetings; it was Neteyam who always pushed Lo'ak to participate. But even when he laid underneath the stars on the back of Payakan, the ocean water gently lapping at his skin, the guilt still sat in his chest like the bullet in Neteyam's heart.

Without his older brother, Lo'ak ceased to exist. He refused to meet his eyes or even speak to his mother. He made himself an outcast before his family could. You recognized that the void in Lo'ak's life was the same one tearing you apart, so you felt that it was your responsibility to look after him.

"We must be strong," Neteyam had told you the night you left your home in the forest. You said goodbye to your family to be with him. He'd placed his palm over your heart. "In here."

It was eerie how you could still feel his touch as if he were right in front of you. Neteyam would've wanted you to stay strong for Lo'ak, and you would do anything to honor your mighty warrior.

Unfortunately, looking after Lo'ak wasn't easy when you could never find him. Two days had passed and you hadn't seen him once. You knew not to worry--Kiri noticed your concern and said she'd seen him with his tulkun just outside of the reef. "He didn't seem like he wanted to come back."

By that night, you'd given up. After a great feast held for the birth of Tonowari and Ronal's child, you separated yourself from the others and sat alone on a far-off shore. The ocean life illuminated the darkness around you, small specks of teal and gold light scattered in the water. Your feet had sunk into the wet sand as the calm waves kissed your ankles.

While the ocean held many wonders that continued to fascinate you, it left a bitter image burned into your memory.

There was fire off in the distance, gunshots and explosions, but they were all the least of your concern. You shook as you held his body in your arms. The water had turned violent, as if the Great Mother knew of the war taking place. Sharp, chaotic waves crashed against a rocky landing. Crimson pooled in the grooves of the rock, running down the sides to where it diluted in the vast sea.

You never allowed yourself to remember anything past that. The ocean had not redeemed itself just yet. You pulled your knees to your chest so your feet were out of the water. The silence of the night would never be peaceful; if it was quiet enough, you could still hear his voice in your ear.

Fortunately, the silence broke. Soft footsteps in the sand were trailing towards you, and wide, golden eyes met your small frame. Lo'ak had not expected you so far away from the village, alone, at night. "(y/n)," he froze. "What're you doing here?"

"Lo'ak," you let out a breath of relief that you'd been holding for the past few days. You stood and brushed the sand off of your legs. "I've- We've been looking for you. Your mother and father have been so worried."

He frowned at the mention of his family--of his father. He refused to even imagine what they could possibly think of him. "I was just out," Lo'ak tried to dismiss the topic and swiftly walked past you, his shoulder barely brushing yours. "I'm fine."

The remnants of your heart cracked once again. Even when a hand reached out for him, grasping onto his fingertips, he'd pull away. The fear of rejection--the thought of placing his trust in someone with only betrayal in return--was too great. Lo'ak would abandon others before they could abandon him.

"Lo'ak, please." your hand gently grabbed his shoulder to turn him back to you. He stood a few inches over you and refused to look down to meet your eyes.

There was a soft spark in his chest, and you could see the flame beginning to grow. "What do you want, (y/n)?" He retorted with a sigh.

"You know what it is, Lo'ak." You brushed your hand down his arm to meet his palm. You placed his own hand on top of his heart. He sighed, breath laced with heavy regret and guilt. Lo'ak knew that whatever he'd been hiding for the past few months would be coming up right there in front of you.

He practically collapsed onto the sand, feet set in the water and arms wrapped around his legs, but he quickly pulled himself away from the shore, just like you had earlier, once the memories began to feel too real. You sat right by his side and looked off to the dark horizon. The two of you stared with broken hearts. "Have you gone to see him?"

There was silence, apart from the gentle lapping of the waves and the village in the distance. "No," he regretfully looked down at his lap. "Have you?"

You shook your head, "No." Your response wasn't much better.

For as much as the two of you missed him, neither of you had gone to the Spirit Tree like the rest of the Suli family. The only images of Neteyam that you had left were the memories still burned into your vision. “I’m afraid to forget him,” Lo’ak admitted. He bit the inside of his cheek. “But I’m too scared to see him again.”

You looked to him with sympathetic eyes. For the first time since his brother’s death, Lo’ak broke. Three tears left a trail down his face to where they dropped off his skin and onto the sand. “I don’t know much about spirits,” you began. You set a firm, reassuring hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder. “But Neteyam loved us with all his heart. Even as he rests with the Great Mother, he loves us.”

He tried to nod along to your words as if he would better believe them. Lo’ak gently gasped before a quiet, broken sob left his throat, “I know it’s my fault.” His shoulders heaved. “If I hadn’t made him go back for Spider or- or if I stayed behind instead of him..”

“Oh, Lo’ak,” you cooed, turning towards him and engulfing him in a hug. He leaned his forehead down onto your shoulder. This was the first comfort he’d felt in months. “We can’t tell ourselves those things.”

His tears collected on your skin. “My brother,” he whimpered, “is gone.”

Your fingers gently caressed the back of his head, tracing over his braids. You shushed him, “There’s nothing we can do.” How could you affirm this to Lo’ak when you couldn’t even accept it yourself? You pulled away so you could look him in the eyes.

“I miss him too much.” Lo’ak wept.

Holding his face between your gentle hands, you nodded. Together, your tears soaked the sand beneath you; the two of you could’ve created an entire ocean. “I miss him, too, paskalin.” Your thumb soothed cheek and wiped away the tears from his eyes. “But we must stay strong for him.

“All we can do is remember. One day, we’ll be strong enough to see him, I know it. But for now, we must be strong,” You put your hand over his heart. The beat of his soul turned steady; you remembered how Neteyam’s slowed to a stop, and for the first time since his death, you pushed the memory away without a single tear. “In here.”

Lo’ak closed his eyes and calmed his breath, allowing the feeling of your palm on his skin to soothe him. He’d opened himself and poured out his heart. Now, he could heal.

The night continued on, and you stayed with Lo’ak throughout the dark reign. He could take however long he needed. You would comfort him through whatever war he created in his mind. The tide came in, brushing water against your knees, but the two of you remained.

Finally, he opened his eyes. “We should return to the village.” Before, Lo’ak spoke bluntly with a dismissive mask to cover how broken he truly was. Now, his voice was firm and strong.

“Are you sure?” You warned. He stood and you cautiously rode with him.

His hands, which had been balled in tense fists, released themselves. Lo’ak nodded, “I’ve been too focused on my brother that I’ve forgotten the rest of my family. Do you think they’ll forgive me?”

With a sweet, proud smile, you offered, "They already have."

──

The path back to the village was peaceful given that you and Lo'ak had come to terms with your grief. He had warned you that his parents would most likely be angry when you returned since it'd been hours since they'd last seen you and days since they'd seen him. You'd consoled him, "We'll get through it together."

It was strange that in Neteyam's absence, you and Lo'ak were able to replace the void with each other. Although he was only a year younger, you'd always felt a sisterly love for him, the same way that you felt for Kiri or Tuk. Now that your connection with Lo'ak had healed, maybe you could too.

Life ahead was beginning to look a little brighter in that moment as you walked on the shore.

But your peace was short-lived.

The village was close enough that you could see the pods, docks, and several Metkayina men with glowing lanterns that noticed you and Lo'ak approaching. They called out and, together, the two of you rushed to them.

"What is wrong?" Lo'ak prodded, trying to look past their broad shoulders at the commotion that was collecting in the village.

You tried as well but they were too tall compared to you. "You must come with us," one of the men said. The flames in the lanterns gently flickered but you could well enough see Kiri running in the distance. Her eyes were wide with fear like she'd seen a ghost.

"Kiri!" You exclaimed.

She pushed past the men and, out of breath, embraced Lo'ak. "Brother!" There were tears falling from her eyes, only you had expected her to happily cry at the sight of Lo'ak. Instead, she wept. "You must come. Come, (y/n)."

Kiri led you both back to the village, the men following after you to provide light. Almost every person in Awa'atlu--man, woman, young, and old--crowded near the shore. They yelled and gasped, cursing and praying. The three of you struggled to push past everyone, accidentally stepping on tails and toes and bumping elbows and shoulders.

Everyone seemed to look at you and Lo'ak with sympathy. Lo'ak sensed it as well, and looked just as confused as you were.

The crowd was like a hurricane, and in the center, the eye was calm. Jake and Neytiri kneeled on the ground, Tuk crying into her father's arm. Tonowari, Ao'nung, and a collection of soldiers held the people back. Ronal sat across from Neytiri, muttering a prayer with her eyes shut. Kiri ran to her mother's side. Tsireya rushed to Lo'ak as he collapsed.

Your heart stopped.

On the ground, where the ocean met the sand, a figure laid. He had strong legs and arms, a strapping abdomen, and calloused palms and fingers. There was a scar on the outside of his right thigh. Tanhì scattered across his body like the constellations reflected on the ocean.

Your prince. His ghost would forever haunt you. What had you done wrong? What had you done for the Great Mother to curse you like this? Just as you could feel your wounds beginning to heal, your heart crumbled again.

You fell to your knees, placing your hand over your mouth to cover the ear-splitting wail you released. You could fully see your Neteyam now. Just as you had remembered it, but his eyes were gently shut. Neytiri cried alongside you, and your heart almost broke even further until you heard her whisper, "Thank you, Great Mother. Thank you."

What was she grateful for? Jake noticed your confusion, and with a hopeful smile, he took your hand and placed it on Neteyam's heart. Underneath the weight of your palm, you felt a gentle pulse. A steady, soft rhythm that rocked your core. Your tears stopped, a cry stuck in your throat.

You looked down to his body and gasped. "Oeyä tìyawn," you whispered out to him, hoping he would hear it. Through just two words, your voice called out to him.

Golden eyes, that you thought you would never see again, opened.

His father gasped; his mother laughed; his sisters cheered, and his brother bowed with his forehead touching the ground. Neteyam's mighty heartbeat reached across Pandora.

"Ma 'Teyam," you smiled. You could taste your own tears as they reached the corners of your mouth. For the first time in months, you weren't crying from a split in your heart--you cried at the feeling of it healing. You were foolish to think the Great Mother would curse you. "Thank you, Great Mother."

Only two minutes had passed until you noticed the laughter and cheers of others had disappeared. The night had become silent again. Your smile fell when you recognized that Neteyam had not yet embraced you. In fact, he stayed frozen on the ground.

His eyes were still open, but they were wide and full of fear. Tuk reached for his hand, and he quickly pulled away with a scared gasp. He flinched when his own mother caressed his cheek. "Neteyam," she pleaded. Finally, his eyes met yours. You looked to him with desperate affection, practically shooting beams of love towards him. Your stomach dropped when you noticed it.

Your prince did not know who you were.

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[madame-fear]

Hello, Amira! Hope you are okay 🫶🏻 Since you opened your requests again, I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to see you give life to my ideas hahaha.

Here it goes: Lucerys survives the attack in the end of episode 10. Luke is found unconscious at the sea by a commoner reader and she takes care of him. She doesn’t know he is a prince, until he tells her. Luke stays in her house until he is healed, which makes them grow close to eachother and eventually fall in love. But one day, he decides it’s time for him to return to his family and duties. Reader respects his decision, but she can’t help but feel sad at his departure. Years later, when Lucerys is 19 and has already become Lord of Driftmark, he comes back for her and makes a proposition: for her to join him and be his Lady of The Tides.

Sorry if it’s too long.

*ೃ༄ 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒. .ೃ࿐

★ amira speaks! : Ju, I literally love all of your requests !! They always motivate me and keep me eager to write ahh 💕💕 Hope you enjoy this sweet love, and it was what you expected !! — summary : request. — word count : 11.0k (longest so far!)

— pairing : lord!lucerys velaryon x commoner!reader — genre : fluff.

Thin trails of dark crimson leisurely blended into the transparency of the continously moving tides, coming from all the visible open wounds from the body of the unconscious young Prince. From the skies was heard a wailing sound, accompanied by the faint sounds of a flapping motion. It came from a small flying beast; a wounded dragon.

More especifically, it was the wounded Prince’s dragon; being as harmed as his rider was. The current of the vast sea delicately carried his body along the sea waves, the brightly shining sunrays hitting against his face, and reflecting upon the tides.

His body was carried to the coast of a small village, leaving it there, remaining unconscious. A rather tranquil one, where only the faint squeak of seagulls and the waves clashing against the rocks in the sand was heard. And you happened to be taking a scroll on the coast.

It was a hobby of yours, to peacefully walk around the coast to invade yourself only with your thoughts, and carry your basket hanging loose from your arm moving along the rhythm of your steps, using it to collect conchshells and precious rocks you found. The traces you left on the sand were all rapidly washed away by the waves reaching the coast, but not that you focused on such thing.

From afar as you continued with your quiet stroll, you noticed the body of a young boy thrown across the coast. He seemed unconscious, as the waves continued to hit against his already wet body. Being concerned for a strange young man abruptly appearing at the coast of your village, you quickened your footsteps, practically running, and decided to approach the boy.

Reaching his body, your body fell to the ground on it’s knee with a soft, smooth movement. You dropped the basket by your side, and decided to tenderly take hold of his head, placing it on your lap as you scanned his face dedicately. He was badly injured; his face was bleeding with several scars, and other bleeding wounds across his arms, legs, and chest, which were visible as parts of his clothing had been ripped.

But he was still alive. You noticed his chest very faintly rising and descending. “Hello? Can you hear me?” you inquired, beginning to softlt shake his body to bring him into reality. The bright sunrays that hit on his face seemed to highlight his features, and he was rather adorable.

With a slow motion of frowning eyebrows, his eyes became a little bit more tightly shut as he regained consciousness. His body felt like a heavy burden, his injuries were a sharp pain, and his head was aching and throbbing. A little groan rolled from his lips, opening his eyes. His eyes were narrowed, adjusting his blurry visions to the sight and the bright skies. With a lazy movement, he moved his sight to stare into your eyes. He was placed on your lap.

Even if his sight was blurried and dizzy, he could tell you were a rather beautiful girl, with delicate features. “What happened? Are you alright?” you continued to question, with small hope that the boy could enlighten you with some information. His lips were partly open, mumbling whispered nonsense before he formed something coherent. Or slightly coherent, at least.

“Arrax, I need him...” was all he managed to respond with a raspy tone. His head on your lap became heavier, as his eyes fluttered shut once again and fell back into being unconscious on your lap. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his answer, but were more than determined to take good care of the young, enigmatic boy.

Lucerys fluttered his eyes open. It felt as if he had been sleeping for hours, but much worse. His head continued to frustrate him with a discomforting headache, and a body that shivered with slight cold and pain.

But, as he opened his eyes very softly, he noticed he had been taken inside a small, cozy chamber. Lucerys laid on a comfortable bed, and his body was covered with two long furry blankets up to his neck that kept him warm. Seven Hells, even his clothing had been changed into another one. It seemed that someone had changed him into night clothing.

As Luke shifted on his place trying to take notion of where he had been taken, a small whine rolled from his lips from the pain of his afflicting headache; but that was merely all he felt, as he noticed the rest of his wounds were patched, and even had got some bandage for the worst injuries around his arms and legs.

“Ah! It seem you are already awake.” lucerys turned his head to where the tenderly-sounding femenine voice came from, being yours. You sat by his side on a wooden chair, with a large book being placed on your lap, offering him a warming smile. “How are you feeling? I just had some herbal tea prepared for you when you for when you woke up.”

Standing from your seat, you quickly took hold of the little pot where you kept boiling water, pouring it inside a small cup that contained a teabag full of healing herbs you collected from around your village. Cautiously, you walked up to him, approaching him the tea. “Drink this, it contains healing herbs. They will help you heal your wounds better.” lucerys took hold of the cup you extended to him, flashing you a sheepishly weak grin.

“T-Thank you.” he muttered weakly, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip from it. Not that it tasted like the best excellency of teas, but for some strange motive not even himself could understand, he wholeheartedly trusted your words regarding the way they would make him feel better. “M-My head still aches heavily, as well as my body...” lucerys explained, with his hazel eyes dreamily gazing into your own. “May I ask, who are you?”

His question never had the idea to sound impolite to you, and of course, you understood the reason why he would inquire for your name. “My name is (y/n). I found you unconscious on the coast terribly injured, so with some help I took you inside my home, and took care of your wounds.” you answered, offering him a kind smile that made his heart shyly flutter. “May I know yours? Do you remember what happened to you?”

“I am Prince Lucerys Velaryon.” your eyes widened, having been completely unaware that you hosted and took care of a Prince, who was none other than Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen’s son as far as you knew. Of course, you were going to be as respectful and careful as you could with him, but such fact had made you feel off. Not in a bad way, thought, rather pleasantly surprised.

His gaze wandered around your bedroom, trying to recall what had happened before he woke up in your bed. Lucerys was well aware he had been in Storm’s End, running away from his uncle Aemond, but not what happened after that. Softly, he flinched his gaze in pain. Any memory he tried to have, worsened his headache.

“I... Can’t remember, m-my Lady. I remember being on Storm’s End, but not what happened.” you had a brief idea about House Baratheon and Storm’s End, pressuming he must have been there for political alliances, or anything related. Swiftly he passed his tongue through his lips, before speaking up rather weakly again. “Have you seen a small dragon around, the moment you found me, m-my Lady?”

Of course, Luke knew you surely had never seen a dragon in person, perhaps had a bit of knowledge about them, and especially would know any less if he had mentioned the name Arrax. You had read about Targaryens and their dragons, but you were clueless about whether or not there was a dragon flying around the moment you had found him unconscious. Lucerys had been your top priority, and still was, but the young future Lord was more than notoriously preoccupied for the wellbeing his dragon companion.

“I apologise, my Prince, I-I do not recall having seen a dragon,” you explained anxiously, and rather timidly. “I... Was truly concerned for your wellbeing. But perhaps if you give me a description of the dragon, I may be able to stay aware?” a little grin formed at the corner of his lips at your proposal. He nodded.

“That would be very much apprecuated, my Lady. Arrax is a small dragon, pearly coloured and with amber eyes.” you took mental note of the dragon’s description, kindly giving him a single nod with your head.

“Understood, my Prince. You should rest, for now. Do you need anything else?” as you walked towards the door to leave, you gave him one last look. It was nearly impossible to take your eyes off of him, he had such beautiful features and an adorable little expression despite being in pain. Unbeknownst to you, he felt slightly flustered of sharing the same opinion you had on him, but with you.

Slightly, he shook his head. “No, my Lady, thank you.” politely you kept your smile towards him, nodding as you swiftly opened the door and, as you had began to leave, he called back for you. “Wait, (y/n)!” his voice was still a bit quiet, but enough for you to hear him. Especially in your room, where there was nobody but the two of you. “Yes, my Prince?” you asked back.

There were a few moments of silence in between the two of you that felt like everlong. You kindly awaited for him, noticing he struggled to say what he had to say before you left him to rest in your bed. Not because he was embarrassed of it, or disliked the idea of what he had to tell you, but strangely enough... His heart had little butterflies flapping their wings at the mere sight of you. His cheeks turned crimson, as he licked his lips rapidly and discreetly.

“I don’t think I could ever thank you enougn, or possibly repay your kindkess, my Lady. I owe you my life.” he mumbled, timidly.

Your own cheeks mimicked his, as some slight chuckles spurred from your lips delightfully. Oh, he charmed you right away with that sweet nature of his; very humble, and delicate. “Don’t, my Prince. You have nothing to thank me for.” you whispered back, looking into his hazel eyes. They stared at you lovestruck, like a little lost puppy mesmerised.

“Call for me whenever you need me.” curtsying down to him as you stood by the door of your quarters, you then quickly left and softly closed the door behind of you. Fortunately, he couldn’t see you as you had closed the door, but you had stood there for a few long minutes, gushing over how preciously adoring he was with you already. But you knew, it couldn’t be. Not yet, and most obviously, not ever.

The course of several moons had passed. Prince Lucerys had remained with you and agreed to stay with you until he had fully healed from all the injuries caused at Storm’s End provoked, as he told you, by none other than one of his uncles.

Over the course of the passing time, you bonded better than you could have ever bonded with anyone else. Even if he had slight difficulty walking, Luke often offered himself to help you cooking for the two of you, even if you had to guide him through the way and occasionally he accidentally burned food - but you shared nice evenings together. You spoke of your lives, your cultures, the thoughts in common you had, you taught him about how healing with plants and herbs worked; Seven Hells, he even helped you bond with his dragon Arrax as soon as the young dragon returned in search for his owner, overcoming your fear for the large beasts, and having the sweetest relationship with Arrax just like you had with Lucerys.

There was something about the way he was so ever gentle and delicate with you that swooped you right off your feet, for example when he took you to walk around the gardens of your home and offered you his arm for you to take, and how he cuddled with you whenever you felt too cold and he was warm. Or, when he gifted you a pretty flower that bloomed in your gardens, and silently stared at you in awe of your grace.

The young Prince was simply a delight you couldn’t resist. As much as you felt off admiting it, you were head over heels for Lucerys. And he felt the same towards you.

His dragon laid on the sand of the same beach where you had found his rider. Both of your backs were laying against the dragon’s body, resting silently and caressing delicately his pearly scales. The brightly shining sun was slowly disappearing into the sky, leaving across the mixed tints of vivid orange and some faint shades of pink. The bright light hit your faces, but you enjoyed the peaceful moment you spent with the Prince, listening to the splashing sounds of the ocean waves hitting against the rocks and shells of the shore.

“It’s delightful, is it not?” he spoke, in a cooing tone, making you crane your head towards him as you snapped out of your thoughts. His own smile made your lips quiver into a similar grin as well. “It is, Luke. I often come reading or doing patchwork here at this hour, because no one can bother me.” you had the luck of being able to call him by his nickname. And, he for sure did enjoy hearing the way your tongue rolled off his name so smoothly. The young Prince often spend nights with the way your voice said his name echoing on his mind.

A hint of concern was on his expression as you responded to his question. Luke had been quieter than he usually was around you, and there was a certain atmosphere on tension with him. Maybe even nervous, but you hadn’t asked, so you weren’t entirely certain of his causes for concern, and behaving in such strange way. Furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head to your side ever so slightly, you decided you should ask. “Are you alright, Luke?” you spoke, muttering nearly. “I have noticed you seem... Nervous? Concerned, perhaps?”

His fingers fidgeted, resting his hand on his lap as both of you laid against Arrax, whom rested. No one had to see him, knowing how commoners were even if you were hosting no other than a Targaryen Prince himself, but luckily for you it was rare for someone else to wander around the beach at such hour. A soft sigh escaped from his lips, lingering his sight rather reluctanctly on the ground, not being able to manage staring into your eyes. “It’s just...” a brief moment of silence was awkwardly growing, “But I am nearly fully healed, (y/n). I believe it would be best to return home and continue preparing myself to inherit Driftmark. I wouldn’t wish for mother to be preoccupied, or saddened as well.”

In a way, hearing those words come from him, felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water to you. It felt as if the atmosphere and the world surrounding you faded away, stopping it’s natural course. A deeply, harrowing sensation burdened you on your chest, as you had grown tenderly close to the Velaryon Prince. “I see.” was all you simply responded, a bit bitterly.

You knew the day would come. The day where he would have to return back to his family, amidst the war. You had mentally prepared yourself for it, but you were not ready to let go of him just yet. Though, you understood. You never wished to be selfish, and being on his mother’s position, you pressumed she must have been dealing with a great deal of anguish about her son’s probable death on Storm’s End. “I know, Luke, don’t worry.” one of your hands shyly went to take his own, squeezing it rather lightly to offer him some comfort. His hazel eyes were fixed on your own, a bit dumbfounded at the feeling of your warm, velvety skin when you held hands simply to reassure him.

“You should await for a few days until you’re fully healed, though. In the meantime, we could prepare for your departure so you can return back home safely.” despite being weary of being the next heir of Driftmark, Lucerys knew what duties he had to fulfill, and not that he could forever escape from them, either way.

Much like you, the young Prince felt a rather uncomfortable pressure tightening his chest, as well as a small knot that formed on his throat noticing your clear disappointment. He wished he could spend more time with you and cling to you like a lost little puppy, rather than just a few days that would obviously be spent being miserable and with a gloomy atmosphere, knowing that soon he’d return back to Dragonstone.

But, deep inside, Luke had already promised to himself that he would not just leave your side forever. He had to be with you, no matter how long he’d have to wait until he was almost fully an adult. It would be a few years, but either way... He would find his way back to you.

Several years had passed since the young Prince, Lucerys Velaryon, had been taken into your care when you had found his unconscious body being dragged by the seawaves to the beach shore.

The memory of your last day together still bitterly lingered. You could still feel the warmth from his body, and how tightly he had pressed your body against his own in your last embrace as if it had been just yesterday. The way his green eyes shone whether the sun, or the moon reflected their light upon them. Every inch of his beauteous features, you remembered them vividly. The Prince had promised he would return to you, and occasionally visit you; and even if you were keen in trusting his word, a deep part of you felt as if it was clinging to hopeless fantasy.

You could even remember crying your eyes out for the entirety of the day, not long after you stood in the beach for a few minutes, observing Arrax fly away, until you could no longer see them, and their presences vanished away amidst the clouds. The next days after his departure, you could not stop thinking about him for a single moment. The days felt grey and a burden to you, but you knew you would have to carry on.

It was something so temporary, you doubted whether taking care of him was a blessing or a curse. In one way, a blessing because you had never felt so deeply enamoured by a boy, and more joyful in your life. And a curse, on the other side, because you would have to live knowing it was simply something brief; not knowing if you would have the chance to feel his warmth against you ever again, or even, if he remembered you.

Quietly maneuvering the needles in your hands, you worked on some patchwork. You sat in a wooden chair outside your home, right at the door, allowing the cool windy breeze smoothly sway strands of your hair, delicately hitting against your face. As silent and peaceful as it was, the atmosphere remained with a lonely aura. The same lonely, empty aura remained ever since Lucerys left. While your eyes attentively lingered on the patchwork you sewed, you kept thinking about the Prince.

Abruptly, as if a sudden impulse inside of you forced your actions, your gaze moved upwards towards the sky. The bright light blue colour was leisurely fading away as the sun vanished, leaving place for rich orange tones and light pink shades to be smeared all over the sight, with the sunrays reflecting down onto the seawaves.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you noticed from afar a slightly large figure... flying? It seemed as if a large beast flew above the sea, fluttering it’s wings intensely. The closer the flying beast approached the seashore, the better you could notice it was a dragon being ridden by someone towards you. But it wasn’t any dragon — which was already rare enough to see for you —, but rather, it was none other than Arrax himself.

Blinking several times, your heart began violently pounding against your chest. Could it be, or could it be just the anguish taking a toll on your body, to the point it made you see things that were never there? But no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself you were simply imagining things in the span of a few minutes, the more vivid the sight of Arrax with Lucerys on top of him became.

Lucerys was just like you remembered, and it seemed his baby face remained with him. His green eyes were as bright and vivid as ever, with delightful dark, messy curls that had grown larger than last time you had seen him. Though, despite his baby face still living with him, it was notorious he had grown up into a handsome, young man.

Standing from your chair, practically tossing the patchwork aside, the dragon landed on the ground. A wave of dusty sand was spurred into the air as the dragon landed; Arrax had grown up along his rider. And the young Prince — now Lord — was notoriously more than eager to meet you after a long time, having missed that precious face of yours he so adored.

Whilst you ran towards them, Lucerys got off of Arraxes’ back. “Luke!” you shouted, as some giggles escaped from your lips. Your wide, toothy grin couldn’t help but br contagious to Lucerys, as he vastly opened his arms to receive an embrace from you. Without a doubt, rather than giving him am embrace, you threw your entire body on top of him, having Lucerys catch you in the air, as he giggled along you.

Both of you nearly stumbled to the ground as your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and your legs around his waist. Discreetly, you buried your head in the crook of his neck, iinhaling his sweet boyish scent that never failed to bring you a comforting sensation.

“Oh, how have I missed you, Lucerys.” being spinned around playfully and leisurely in the place by Luke, you simply allowed your body to relax in his presence. All the gloom you had once felt, was abruptly vanished from the ambience the second you fell into his arms again. It felt as if you had been given life again. “I was afraid I would not see you again.” you confessed a bit mindlessly, as if the words escaped from your lips subconsciously.

Slowly, your feet went back to being placed on the ground, releasing a soft huff when you released him from your tight embrace. Either way, Lucerys felt as if he could never stop a single second from touching you, as one of hia gloved hands was placed on your waist, and the other one tenderly cupped your cheek adoringly. Gods, he craved to touch you. After many years, it was nearly like a dream to have you in front of him again, so lively and sweet as always.

“But I kept my promise, have I not?” he teased, making you roll your eyes in a playful manner. “You have, yes. Lucky you’re different than most boys.” a small chuckle escaped from his lips, making his eyes twinkle in the process. And your eyes amorously gawked upon his features, as if you could melt from love right at that moment.

“You remained the same as always. You have no idea how badly I missed you.” at the last words, his voice dropped very slightly, tilting his head to his side discreetly to tenderly appreciate you. You had grown up as well into a proper, ravishing woman. “I have so many things to tell you, from the moment after I left. But now, I came in a bit of a hurry, you might say.”

At his words, your eyebrows were raised with curiousity, attentively awaiting to hear whatever thing he had to say. “Hurry?” you inquired, “Is something the matter?” immediatly, Lucerys shook his head. “Nothing too serious, but rather, important.” his eyes lingered timidly the ground for a few seconds, as the hand that cupped your cheek descended to your own hand, delicately holding it. A faint rosy tint began forming on his cheeks.

“I’ve finally become Lord of Driftmark, as I have come to age.” he began explaining, nibbling his lower lip briefly, in a discreet manner. As his sight was raised to stare at you, his heart nervously beat against his chest noticing your kind stare fixed on him. “And... Mother has been looking to betroth me to someone who could be... m-my future Lady of the Tides.” some stutter escaped from him rather sheepishly, having to force yourself to hold back a smile.

Though, your heart, much like his own, as well was beating rather rapidly expectantly. “And, at that time, I could not help b-but... Think of... you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, partly beginning to open your lips to respond. It was a shock, but it was rather a pleasant shock — he could not be serious, you felt as if you actually misheard him. “You have taken such care of me, that you have no idea how comforting that was when I was far from my own home,” he briefly continued speaking, a bit stumbling around his words shyly. “You’ve been more than sweet, and gentle with me. You truly have no idea how badly I missed the way you played with my hair, the way you laugh, stared at me when we talked...”

His gaze was never setting anywhere else, it simply wandered on the ground anxiously, feeling as exposed as he could ever be from expressing his true feelings. The previous faint rosy tint became in a notorious crimson colour, smeared all over his face. “I-I missed your warmth, I missed everything about you, b-but... Of course, if it makes you feel uncomfortable, you don’t have to—”

Unexpectedly, one of your hands cupped his cheek while the other pulled the collar of his clothing to bring him closer to you, and tiptoeing, you tilted your head to a side to press your lips against his own, kissing him rather freeingly. His lips were plushy enough for you to nibble on, if you wished. You could savour his sweetness, and the feeling of remaining with your lips locked together increased with every second that passed.

His green eyes had widened in surprise, initially, but then, his eyes began leisurely fluttering shut, melting into your own taste as his arms were wrapped around your waist, firmly holding you against him. An overwhelming feeling of excitement tightened his chest, feeling a small curve form upwards on the corner of his lips in between the kiss.

Though you had to pull for air, you remained close enough for your lips to be merely inches away, grasping against one another tenderly. The slight panting that came from both of you hit against your skins, desiring to remain that way and keep kissing for the entirety of the day, if you could. “You could never make me feel uncomfortable, Lucerys.” you whispered, smiling against his lips.

“Take me with you, my Lord.”

♡ taglist : ♡

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[kikyoupdates]

⭑˚👑⭑ yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

01 — arranged affairs 02 — sudden announcement 03 — a devout presence 04 — higher education 05 — strawberry shortcake 06 — no longer alone 07 ��� what a fun time 08 — date with your fiancé's brother 09 — belle of the ball 10 — let there be blood 11 — foreign admittance 12 — changing tides 13 — within holy walls 14 — tea and strife 15 — the lesser of the two 16 — flickering flame 17 — the broken sapphire 18 — disenchanted 19 — men's quarrel 20 — drops of crimson 21 — home visit 22 — accusations 23 — stay on guard 24 — disease of the mind 25 — a meaningless existence 27 — festival frolicking 27 —show off affeciton 28 — all's well that ends well 29 — lady heathclaw's proposal 30 — embers of a mage 31 — sinful love 32 — godless place 33 — a lone candle in the dark 34 — simply cursed

-ˋˏ ༻ Special Chapters༺ ˎˊ-

✿ character profiles & mini interview

More chapters are available on Quotev!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

👑 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[dayseternal-blog]

Hey there! Thank you for your amazing blog ! 😍 I was wondering if you can recommend some emotional and slow burn enemies to lovers of naruhina fanfictions?

It would be so much better if it's happening in the historical era but I'm ok with the modern era too .

hello! I'm glad you like my blog :D

Enemies-to-Lovers NaruHina

“Blurred Lines” by @vegebulsoup - Rated E, Modern AU, One-shot.  Detective Naruto Uzumaki is having a hard time staying focused at work due to an elusive, dark-haired beauty.

“Turning Tides” by vegebulsoup - Rated E for BDSM/slight dubcon tones and lots of smut, Pirates AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. When a Hyuuga merchant ship is raided by pirates, Hinata is taken as collateral by the ruthless Captain Menma.

“January - Toward the future/Vision” from “Still Falling For You” by @chloelapomme - Rated M, Royalty AU, One-shot. Sick of a unknown disease which paralyzes his body little by little, the second prince of Uzushio, Naruto Uzumaki, has lost interest in life until the day a pretty street-dancer makes her entrance in his bedroom and gives him hope to have the future he wants to have.

“Love Toxic” by @nekomamoru​ - Rated E, Modern AU, One-shot.  She would remain the criminal if he was the law after her.

“The Dragon Huntress” by @mysterious-crimson-lotus - Rated T, Fantasy AU, Two-shot.  The Hyuuga are famous throughout the forest for many things. Their signature eyes, their stoic demeanour… and of course, their ability to hunt down dragons like no one else. It has been their duty to protect the five villages from the terror of the dragons for generations, and it is a duty that they have carried out without complain, and without a second thought.

“Snow White” by @nightowl27-writer​ - Rated E, Folktale AU, One-shot. He was supposed to kill her, not fall in love with her. But he was only human, and she surely was something much more divine.

“Secret Lovers” by nekomamoru - Rated M, Modern AU, One-shot.  It was a known fact among the business realm of Konoha that Hyuuga Enterprises and Uzumaki Corporation have been strong rivals, years spent attempting to overthrow each other in terms of profit and development.  If only her father knew the nature of the relationship she had with the enemy thus far.

“Emperor and the Desert Rose” by pizzansushi - Rated M for lactation kink, Royalty AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete.  An amnesiac assassin is assigned a suicide mission, she must kill the Emperor. The lethal beauty Hinata sets out to do what she must to survive. In the end, will the Emperor Naruto Namikaze take her life?

“In a Demon’s Possession” by HoneyWriter78 - Rated E for non-con/dub-con, Demons AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Pursued by the snake demon Orochimaru for their mysterious bloodline, Neji and Hinata accidentally trespass into Lord Kyuubi’s territory.

“Opposites Attract” by KyuubiLover100 - Rated E, Yakuza AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Citizens of Konoha all know that “The Light cannot exist without casting its Shadow.” It’s the unspoken system that the city runs on. Everyone knows their place and their roles. Those in the Shadows do what those in the Light cannot. Uzumaki Naruto knows this and has known this since he was young. Hyuuga Hinata knows this as well and understands her Father’s wished, but still…

“Make Love, Not War” by agitosgirl - Rated M, Vampire / Werewolf AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete (or Complete, considering how agitosgirl ends stories). In a world where Vampires and Werewolves have been feuding for eons, one battles changes it all. A young werewolf manages to find finally find love in these trying times. The problem? She’s supposed to be his sworn enemy…

“Enemies or Lovers” by @powerful-niya - Rated E, Werewolves & Vampires AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. The origin of werewolf and vampires were always conflict. Full of war and bloodshed. Over the years, the King of Vampires stepped up and sought out to put an end to this feud. But was killed in the process. Years later, the feud lived on but not within two.. of these creatures. They both tend to fully, put an end to this condescending battle, with their forbidden love. Can they do it? Or will they be killed also?

“Forced to Call You Mine” by Se7enthDragon - Rated M, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto hates Hinata Hyuga. Hinata hates Naruto Uzumaki. However, being the son and daughter of two very successful men creates unfortunate events that leads them to being forced into an engagement with each other. It’s hate. They know. But is it what they truly feel for the other?

“Clandestine” by @waterrolls - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. A kickass Anbu Hinata. A grouchy Hokage Naruto. Two prickly personalities forced to work together.

“The Study Session” from “Endless Lemons” by agitosgirl - Rated M, One-shot. She’s covered in piercings and leather, and has a bad attitude. But she takes an interest in him. A very special interest…

“Hate to love” by suryass - Rated M, Modern AU, One-shot.  They hated each other, at least that’s what they liked to think.

“March - Fanfic/Fanart inspo” from “Still Falling For You” by chloelapomme - Rated M, Pirates AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. It’s time for Hinata to confront the thief who stole her treasure from her.

“Road to Relationships” by agitosgirl - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata Hyuuga and Menma Namikaze have a very rocky relationship. It’s filled with fighting, sex, make ups and break ups. The two of them cannot tolerate the other, yet they hate being apart. But what happens when their pattern is altered completely? Will their relationship survive, or will it finally die?

“Acquaintances” by @secrettastemakerland - Not Rated, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Uzumaki Naruto and Hyuuga Hinata always had a weird relationship. They were either always fighting each other or fighting others for fighting one of them. Everyone in their class was always confused whether they liked each other or hated each other, thus their name of “frenemies.”

“Just Lock Them in a Closet Next Time” by secrettastemakerland - Rated G, Modern AU, Two-shot. Naruto and Hinata are invited to Sakura and Sasuke’s wedding, things can only go down up from there.

"Dirty Little Secret" by @sessakag - Rated E, Wartime AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. A story in which Naruto and Hinata are from warring nations but begin playing a dangerous game where it's only a matter of time before difficult choices have to be made.

Anyone can add on if you know of others!

[unusual-raccoon]

Silver Son (Ch. 2) | by Unusual_Raccoon (JaceLuke)

@livinginafantasysposts, @andromaxeoftroy, @saintbehemoth, @mondstaub1, @the-heartlines, @the-white-w0lf, @potatochips-15, @arkah-archive, @lunar-19, @bimyself06

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Jacaerys Velaryon, Blonde Jacaerys Velaryon, Jace is Daemon's Biological Son, Complicated Relationships, Political Alliances, Canon-Typical Violence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Jacaerys Velaryon, Omega Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Episode: s01e08 The Lord of the Tides (House of the Dragon), Viserys I Targaryen Lives, Daemyra Have Disney Parent-itis = they died, Brother/Brother Incest, POV Alternating, Political Alliances, Arranged Marriage, Valyrian Culture & Customs (A Song of Ice and Fire), Valyrian Wedding, Loss of Virginity, Explicit Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Knotting Summary: With few options left, Lucerys travels to Dragonstone to marry his mother's eldest son and heir, Jacaerys Targaryen. WC: 8,9K+ Ao3 Link

It began with a proposal. The promise of marriage in exchange for protection.

A marriage…to the prince of Dragonstone.

Their breakneck pace had consumed two weeks' worth of time in an instant, and before Lucerys had a true moment to recuperate, he was standing upon blue-veined white marble within the Eyrie’s High Hall.

“Prince Lucerys,” The lady of the Vale welcomed him, eyes as blue as the sky creased at the corners in a small sign of fondness.

“My lady,” he greeted, lowering his head in a show of deference to his host.

“I pray your time in King’s Landing has seen you well.”

“It has my lady, and while I am eternally grateful for your hospitality, I’m afraid I will need to depart from the Eyrie soon.”

To her credit, Jeyne Arryn took the news with aplomb.

“Might I ask, who is stealing you away, dear cousin?”

“I am Targaryen, my lady, I worry you may find the truth upsetting.”

She arched a single brow, the same shade of honeyed-gold as her hair. Whatever fondness she reserved for Lucerys in the months since his mother’s passing seemed to vanish at the mere insinuation of him.

What power you wield, dear brother.

The image of pale hair stained more crimson than silver flashed through his mind.

“I see.” She replied with an icy sort of diplomacy that made his teeth clench cold. Her disdain gleamed through in the blue of her eyes.

“And you’re certain there is nothing I can do to persuade you otherwise?”

She spoke with a royal I, not only of herself but also of the Eyrie and all its vassal houses…House Corbray amongst them. He thought of Ser Corwyn – the kind, gentle Valeman that had seen him return to the Eyrie safely.

Corwyn, who carried Valyrian steel upon his hip. He pondered briefly the wail Lady Forlorn might make when she collided with Dark Sister.

The hairs on his arms stood on end. He prayed it would not come to such unpleasantries.

Yet, as he imagined falling sway to Lady Arryn’s suggestions and wedding Ser Corwyn, Lucerys’ mind only conjured the image of Alyssa’s Tears scorched dry by dragonfire, yellow-orange flames shot through with veins of green, and his betrothed’s body severed at the neck, his handsome head gnashed between Vermax’s thorny jaws…

Have care, I will crush him if he intends to deny your departure.

He recalled his brother’s words even a fortnight later, as though he was yet twined in Jacaerys’ arms rubbing mindless fingers against the dried blood, blood his brother had spilled in Lucerys’ name, upon the velvet of his sleeve. He chastised himself still for the thoughtless creature he had been reduced to with his lungs full of his elder half-brother’s scent: the heat of an open flame and the heady musk of white oak.

The thought inspired a conflicting sense of hot and cold spreading through his body. A simultaneous pleasure and pain.

“I think it is for the best, my lady.”

Her smile was amiable, but far from pleased.

“Very well,” She hummed in acquiescence.

It was not until she descended from her carved weirwood throne that Lucerys voiced another rather pressing concern.

“I must admit, dear cousin, I fear how he will take the news.”

Jeyne Arryn offered a soft smile, her hand folded over the delicate expanse of his forearm and he was reminded of the few times the lady of the Vale had taken him hawking in the Mountains of the Moon.

“He loves you, he’ll understand.” she reminded with a knowing tilt of her lips.

Lucerys exhaled. He hoped love might be enough to soften the blow of his elder brother’s proposal as Lady Jeyne escorted him to his apartments in the Maiden’s Tower.

. . .

A long soak in a marble tub had not seen his nerves much improved. In fact, Lucerys felt more disturbed knowing he was avoiding the inevitable.

He sank deeper into the water scented with orange blossoms and rose hips, while it was a distraction, it was certainly a pleasant one; it did wonders for his sore bottom after two hard weeks on horseback.

He hadn’t dithered for much longer before dressing. 

He omitted his usual high-collared samite gown with a laced-tight bodice to accentuate curves nature had failed to provide, in exchange for a soft, modest shift to sleep in. 

He layered a patterned dressing gown over his shift to stave off the everpresent wind of the Vale.

There was a knock at the door and Lucerys grimaced. He wasn’t ready, yet still approached his fate with a raised chin - as mother had taught him.

“Prince Lucerys-”

“Ser Corwyn,” He greeted, voice lilted in surprise.

“My deepest apologies, forgive the intrusion, I was not aware-” the knight stammered at Lucerys’ state of dress.

“There is nothing to forgive, the fault is mine own,” Lucerys murmured, cheeks warm, as demure as any proper worshiper of the Seven desired in an Omega.

The insinuation of his nakedness was enough, even layered in sleepwear as he was.

Lucerys crossed bashful arms over himself and Corwyn reddened further.

“I have heard the news of your departure,” Corwyn informed steadily and to the point, eyes focused on some fixed point just over Lucerys’ shoulder.

“From Lady Jeyne, I have no doubt” he had shared the news with none other,“– forgive me, it is uncouth to speak of my host in such a way.”

Corwyn shook his head.

“It was uncouth of my Lady to share business that was not hers.”

Lucerys swallowed, wringing his hands together, discreetly scratching small scent glands in his wrists until the air sweetened with his natural scent.

Vanilla and browned butter.

“I gather that she has informed you as to why I must be leaving…”

Corwyn nodded, nostrils flaring subtly. His jaw tightened.

“She has…”

He looked away, sheepishly with a dusky color upon his cheeks that revealed what his nonexistent scent did not. He chafed at the thought of Lucerys departing to Dragonstone - to Jacaerys.

“Ser, I pray you will not think less of me now…it is not a thought I think I can bear.”

Corwyn’s eyes were a bluish-grey, a beautiful, but understated color that Lucerys admired as the knight turned back towards him in shock.

“My Prince I would never.”

“I don’t believe our Lady shared this information with the thought that it might sour my opinion of you.”

“Oh,” Lucerys exhaled with the kind of smile that enamored countless at court, “good,” he hummed with a dithering kind of naivete a simpering storybook Omega possessed.

Corwyn appeared ensorcelled.

He prayed silently that Jacaerys might be so simple to gain mastery over.

“I believe my cousin has shared with me this news to embolden me…”

Embolden, Lucerys thought. Corwyn’s eyes focused on him then, breathing a touch shallow like he meant to sling Lucerys down onto the floor to ravage him…

Instead, the knight drew Lady Forlorn from the sheath upon his hip.

Lucerys’ heart stilled for a moment before Corwyn knelt before him, head lowered.

“With your permission, my prince, I would swear myself to you…as your protector.”

His brother’s words rang through his head once more as the knight’s hands clasped the weeping woman carved into the sword’s pommel and grip.

You have gone too long without an Alpha. Too long without proper protection.

Lucerys was not acquisitive enough to think he could have both his brother’s protection and Ser Corwyn’s.

A choice was required.

He imagined yet again the sound that Lady Forlorn might make when she clashed with Dark Sister, yet when he pictured Valyrian steel on steel he could only hear the bellow of a dragon…

“You honor me deeply, ser…but, I am afraid I cannot accept. To bind yourself to me on the eve of my marriage…it would not be wise.  I fear my betrothed will think ill of it. However, I hope that should I ever need such a gallant knight you might permit me to call upon you?”

Ser Corwyn rose with a conflicted look etched upon his face.

His bluish-grey eyes softened as Lucerys draped an effete hand over the knight’s forearm. Corwyn’s gaze lingered on Lucerys’ hand.

“Of course, my prince.”

Again, Lucerys offered that affable smile and his sweet scent and all was well.

“Rest well, my prince.”

Lucerys blinked slowly, a soft smile about his lips, “I shall certainly rest easier now ser, thank you.”

With Corwyn addressed he would face his greatest challenge yet on the morrow.

. . .

In the morn he was awoken by the sound of his door opening and a riotous blur bolting inside. He was spared only a moment before said blur was atop his bed – bouncing.

“You’re back!”

“Joff,” Lucerys hummed, half asleep, partially shielding his body from each spring of his younger brother’s body.

“You’re back!” He exclaimed again with a wide, gap-toothed smile, “What was the capital like? Did you get to see the king? Is it true that you killed someone?”

Lucerys’ eyes widened immediately, what vestiges of sleep remained fled from him. 

He wrangled his younger brother in his hands like catching lightning in a bottle.

Joffrey tugged at the silk sleeves of Lucerys’ shift, irritated at being held captive.

“Where have you heard such things?” Lucerys asked seriously.

“A girl from the kitchens,” Joffrey shrugged, “She said someone died-”

Gods damn Jacaerys Targaryen. Already whispers floated about the validity of his hearing of succession. Matters hadn’t been helped by the same rumor mills purporting that Ser Vaemond’s head had allegedly been fed to his elder brother’s dragon; he had yet to hear the word kinslayer but knew it hung on countless tongues.

“You should not repeat such talk, it is not princely.”

Joffrey tugged upon Lucerys’ sleeve, eager to be released.

“Swear it,” Lucerys commanded with a waggle of his finger.

“Fine, I swear it, let go-”

“You swear what?”

“I swear not to repeat unprincely things, Luke-” Joffrey whined.

Lucerys smiled fondly despite himself and released his grip upon his younger brother, content to let him whirl about.

And whirl he did. He had become so content in the Vale. A part of Lucerys mourned the thought of taking him from what had just started to feel like home. It wasn’t fair.

“Joffrey?” Lucerys called as Joffrey’s dark head bobbed around. His brother fiddled with something on the other side of Lucerys’ apartments; something breakable no doubt.

“Something did happen at court…something important.”

“Is this about you getting married? I already know,” Joffrey said, sounding rather bored as he watched the viscous swirl in a stoppered inkwell.

“Another rumor from your spy in the kitchens?” Lucerys asked, unmoved by his brother’s pout.

“No - and she’s not a spy!” He huffed defensively, “Melara told me that you’ll marry her father. I’m not upset, Luke, I promise. I like Ser Corwyn. If you marry him, do you think he’ll train me to be a knight and give me his sword when I’m older?”

Lucerys felt ill.

“Joffrey, come here,” He beckoned, voice trembling. His brother whined a petulant little noise, but remained at Lucerys’ desk, shaking the stoppered inkwell.

“Now.”

It was cruel, Lucerys knew, but he prayed none of his children were Alphas, that none would ever be so obstinate as his brother - brothers. He prayed for Betas and Omegas to quicken in his belly when the time came, for obedient children with sensible little heads on sensible little shoulders.

“She said House Corbray’s colors are like ours, red and black - and white too, but that we wouldn’t have to change very much.”

Change, Lucerys thought to himself, how much of that have we endured already?

Joffrey continued his blabbering, stubborn at that. Lucerys winced, his frustration mounting to a point of eruption.

“I won’t be marrying Ser Corwyn!”

Distantly, he heard glass shattering as the inkwell toppled to the ground. Lucerys bolted from the bed, taking Joffrey’s little hands in his own. He scrutinized his brother’s palms for any shards of glass amidst the overwhelming pools of ink on his pale skin…

“Why not?!”

“Oh, Joff, look at your hands! You mustn’t be so careless.”

His younger brother tore his hands out of Lucerys’ grasp, visibly crestfallen. The pristine white silk of his sleeve was slashed with ugly splatters of black ink.

“Why aren’t you marrying Ser Corwyn?”

Why? Why indeed…

Lucerys sighed. How could he tell a child of seven years about the politics of the matter? Or worse yet, that in the most aggravatingly primal sense, a piece of him yearned for Jacaerys…

“I’ve been presented with a stronger proposal.”

“But, you said we’d be safe here, that we wouldn’t have to leave!” 

His younger brother argued, what else could he have said to a grieving child who had just fled the only home he had ever known? Their exodus from Dragonstone had been a hasty affair, yet in the midst of their pain and fear, it seemed the only thing they could do.

“This proposal means more protection, real protection,” Lucerys swallowed, each breath scraping the inside of his throat like shards of glass as his brother’s face reddened, “Joff, we can go home.”

Tears welled in the muddy brown of Joffrey’s eyes.

He held his brother’s dirty little hands so tightly in his own, clinging desperately.

“But if I am to keep my word, we must leave soon.”

Lucerys brushed an affectionate finger beneath the cleft in his brother’s chin.

“You haven’t misplaced Tyraxes’ saddle have you?”

Joffrey blinked slowly with a dawning realization, sadness forgotten at the prospect of flying again.

“No…”

“Good,” Lucerys hummed before ruffling his brother’s dark curls, swallowing beyond the lump in his throat as he spoke, “you’re going to need it.”

. . .

The fortnight he had allotted had passed, and for two days and two nights longer, Jacaerys had waited.

He had spent 6 years in the North as a ward of Lord Cregan Stark, estranged from his family, and yet, he had never yearned more ardently for his own blood than he did in the two weeks since leaving King’s Landing.

Every morning he waited on Dragonstone's beaches for a young white dragon to pierce the clouds and the scent of vanilla and browned butter to shower him from the sky; for Lucerys to come home to him.

Each day that passed he weighed the worth of simply collecting his brother on dragonback. Of flying to the Eyrie, Dark Sister in hand…like Visenya on Vhagar, and dragging his little wife home.

But then he thought of Lucerys…of sweet, gentle Lucerys.

He refused to force the matter. Lucerys would come to him in time, he knew it…

And so he waited, morning after morning.

And each morning yet he had been disappointed, though he was not the only one.

Baela was still bitter about his decision to break their betrothal that had been arranged since they’d been born…

A marriage done in the tradition of Old Valyria was binding, unbreakable, a union that could never be undone or annulled. Immutable to the word of any king or council. It was everlasting.

He’d been rehearsing the words since he’d had ears to know them. Leagues away in the bitter cold, they had given him warmth. The knowledge he might one day speak them to the one that he loved, as his mother had, as his father had, as was his right.

He was owed this. Tradition dictated for the two oldest children to marry, as Aegon and Visenya had; there was duty and honor in it. By definition, Jacaerys and Lucerys were their mother’s eldest children - the two destined to wed.

He stared at the sky, awaiting his destiny.

. . .

It was the third morning and the sky was a cool blue, drowsy in color when a bright streak sailed through it…

Descending toward the island like a falling star.

Lucerys. 

Jacaerys had never seen anything so picturesque, so perfect-

Then came the rambunctious squawk of a dragon scarcely large enough to fly. Black and red and chasing after gulls, belching plumes of black flames.

Joffrey.

“Dohaerās, Tyraxes!” A reedy little voice called.

“Ninkiot, Arrax,” Lucerys commanded calmly and Jacaerys watched as that young dragon, glittering pearl white and gold, spread his wings to slow his descent to the island.

The sea breeze rolled over the shore, tasting of salt and morning air, of vanilla and browned butter…

Lucerys was a vision in supple charcoal gray, wool-lined riding leathers. His dark curls were wind-tossed and his cheeks a ravishing shade of red.

Those beautiful brown eyes widened at the sight of him.

His younger brother cleared his throat, calling up to Joffrey.

“Come down here,” He commanded, “now.”

Lucerys’ expression was unreadable as he marched across the sands toward Jacaerys, Joffrey in tow.

The dragonkeepers handled their mounts, even the unruly Tyraxes who had feathers hanging from his maw.

“Jacaerys,” Lucerys greeted coolly, with a defiant little raised chin. Jace wanted him then and there — marriage be damned, he wished to pup Luke in the sand. He pushed the thought away, quite capable of ignoring his hindbrain.

“Brother,” Jacaerys responded smoothly, smile softening, “welcome home.”

Lucerys gave a small nod, dainty gloved hands clasped together demurely.

“I apologize for making you wait,” Lucerys said primly, poised and practiced and perfect.

Jace chuckled, “Oh, I doubt that very much. Come along, we’ll get you both settled.”

They stepped through the Great Hall’s massive red doors, flanked by household guards at every step.

He felt Lucerys gasp as he pressed a palm to the small of his brother’s back, leading him into the hall. Luke walked along, spine stiff, his scent dripping from his pores.

It was surreal, sharing the space with Lucerys once more… It had been so long since they had been here together, lived here together.

“Prince Jacaerys,” Maester Gerardys greeted fondly, “and Prince Lucerys, how comforting it is to see you two together once more…”

For the first time since his brother had returned home, Jacaerys witnessed that icy demeanor thaw. His smile was soft and genuine and beautiful…

“It is…good to be home,” He answered, and to Jacaerys’ surprise, his words seemed sincere. Buried somewhere beneath the stoicism his younger brother wore like a coat of mail, he was happy.

“Your mother would be pleased.”

Lucerys’ throat bobbed and his eyes misted, for a moment he seemed to lean into Jacaerys’ touch upon his back. He steadied Lucerys instantly, naturally — it was what elder brothers were meant to do.

He caught a brief flash of gratitude in the corner of a brown eye when Lucerys glanced back at him.

“I’ll show you to your rooms,” Jacaerys said softly, to which Lucerys nodded, a pliant little thing.

“I know where my room is,” Joffrey called, running off blindly, to Lucerys’ horror and Jace’s amusement. Lucerys seemed mortified of Joffrey’s boyish behavior, like some minute thing would pull the rug out from beneath them, as though he may cast them out to the wilds once more…

He’d sooner fall upon his own sword than permit such a thing to happen.

“It’s alright,” Jace soothed, tasting the frantic spike in his younger brother’s scent, vanilla and burnt butter, “he’s home too.”

Lucerys nodded, swallowing thickly.

“When will the ceremony be?” Lucerys asked, his voice steady like he’d practiced the words.

“When would you like it to be?” Jace asked in return, something that seemed to bewilder his younger brother who stared up at him owlishly. Something he hadn’t prepared for.

“Soon,” he said, a tad uncertain as Jacaerys slowly circled him like prey.

“Soon?” Jacaerys echoed with a wily smirk. Lucerys’ brow dipped in what he knew was annoyance.

“Yes, soon, unless you intend on making me wait.”

There he was, Jacaerys grinned, all teeth - his Luke.

“Had I known you were so eager to be my wife, I never would have left King’s Landing without you…” His lips touched his younger brother’s ear.

Lucerys exhaled a shaky breath that he very badly wanted to be a scoff, struggling to right his mask of aloofness. The rich scent of vanilla and browned butter, nutty and earthen and sweet, betrayed him.

“Is tonight soon enough for you, brother?” Jacaerys asked, his subvocals flanging.

Lucerys turned, blinking up at him, pink-cheeked.

“Y-yes.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Lucerys said with his raised little chin, as though he had been so decisive, to begin with; Jacaerys could only focus on the cute cleft of his chin that he wished to trace with his tongue.

Without another word, his younger brother turned and exited the Great Hall, marching down a corridor after Joffrey.

. . .

Valyrian wedding ceremonies were not as time-consuming as weddings performed under the faith of the seven. The very same priest that had performed their mother’s wedding was summoned to conduct theirs.

The materials had been gathered and garments prepared.

A natural stone dias was dressed accordingly. A thick chalice of inscribed Valyrian steel sat upon the dias, filled halfway from a decanter of blood wine.

Jacaerys’ hands shook as he reached for the traditional robes worn during Valyrian wedding ceremonies. The fabric was a pale cream color, with thick blood-red collars and a gradient along the hem and sleeves.

They were meant to symbolize blood purity… the irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Father was the last to wear these…”

Jacaerys exhaled, fingers trailing over the dyed collar of the robe. He never had the right to refer to Daemon Targaryen as his father publically, yet as he stared at the garment, shapeless against his dressing table, it felt right. His father had worn these robes, and Jacaerys would wear them after him.

“He’d be proud of you…”

Baela intoned, her voice alarmingly gentle despite how angry she had been with him in the past weeks.

“Even if I’m marrying against his wishes?”

His sister smiled a radiant thing. Pretty enough to kiss, but he knew better than to try.

“Especially because you’re marrying against his wishes. You chose your own bride…he’d admire that.”

Baela stepped closer, inspecting the ceremonial garment. The fabric seemed endless when lifted into her tiny hands.

“You have every right to wear them, Jace. You’re a Targaryen.”

He nodded and began unlacing his tunic.

“Slower,” His sister bade, her deep violet eyes raking over every ounce of unveiled flesh with unbridled want. Spice flower and cinnamon hung heavy in the air. There was time when that scent beckoned him like a siren’s call, yet there had always been another scent, more potent —— dragonsong.

“I don’t want to forget a thing,” She added sadly, and Jacaerys felt a twinge of regret…she had always been good to him.

Jacaerys slowed, plucking away each individual lace with the utmost care. The garment swayed open and he heard the sharp intake of her breath.

He smiled softly. He couldn’t marry her, but he could give her this.

. . .

It all felt foreign to Lucerys like something out of a dream. His hair painfully twined into a snug series of plaits and braids atop of which the ceremonial headdress was placed.

The robes were long, the dyed hem puddled like blood around his feet.

Unbidden emotion snagged in his throat as he straightened the headdress. His entire life had led to this moment, from the day he was born and the maester had announced what resided between his legs. He was an Omega, he was born to be someone’s wife. Jacaerys’ wife. His face burned hot for reasons he dared not contemplate.

He was to be married and his mother wasn’t here to witness it…

He glared at his reflection in the looking glass.

He blinked away the tears quickly and straightened his back. Jacaerys wanted a wife and he’d get one…and Lucerys would get the legitimacy he’d been lacking. He would certainly be a wife, but Jacaerys had been born an Alpha —— he would become Lucerys’ weapon. It was all he could find comfort in; for this was not a union borne of love.

Lucerys’ bravado held up quite nicely as they traveled to the dais where the ceremony would be held. Jacaerys looked as he always did, aggravatingly handsome; rakish, even, in the long ceremonial robes with his silver hair bound in twists away from his face.

Countless candles burned around the dias, ensconcing them in a golden hue.

It was surreal, standing on warmed stone in the very same spot, in the very same gown his mother had once worn…

Joffrey stood beside Maester Gerardys, a sour look on his little face, in the same spot where Lucerys had stood as a child. Fragmented memories of his mother’s wedding washed over him like the dewy evening rain. 

A hand in his clutched so tightly. Father had died. Warm lips pressed to his crown, there was no giggling when he pressed his cold little feet to the backs of warm knees; just a need to be sated, and comfort that was given. There was no room for laughter on the grim day. Mother had never looked so beautiful. The hand in his was pulled away. It hurt, that missing piece, like a severed limb…

“Luke?”

Lucerys felt the memory fade away as he blinked his way back to the present. Jacaerys stared at him with unabashed concern.

“Hm?” he hummed, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you ready for the ceremony to begin?” The priest asked.

“Yes,” Jacaerys said without hesitation, and all eyes were on Lucerys.

“Yes,” Luke nodded, the tassels of the headdress bouncing.

“Very well.”

Ceremonial dragonglass daggers were given to each of them.

“I’ll go first,” Jacaerys told him and Lucerys nodded, and when he smiled at Luke, it was the smile of an elder brother. 

Rest easy, little brother, that roguish smile said, I’m here. His hands trembled as he brought the shard to his Jacaerys’ mouth. He didn’t flinch when Luke cut him. The dagger split the supple flesh of Jacaerys’ lower lip with ease. Blood oozed bright and warm. He gathered some upon his thumb, transfixed by it. The candles seemed to glow brighter, the air more fragrant. He painted the sigil upon Jacaerys’ skin.

His own dagger was lowered as Jacaerys approached. A large hand came to grip his chin, stroking the skin fondly. He tensed in anticipation of the sting of the dagger. He met his brother’s gaze, those hypnotic violet eyes, silver lashes brushed gold in the candlelight. He felt warm, very warm wrapped in Jace’s scent. His hindbrain was alight. Gently, the dagger sliced his lower lip, he hardly felt it.

He blinked and Jacaerys’ thumb was wet with his blood.

The liquid crimson felt hot against his skin as his brother painted the accompanying sigil.

Blood would flow, and their line would continue. 

He watched as Jacaerys’ dagger carved a wound across his palm. Lucerys did the same.

The priest carried forth the chalice and spoke the binding words. An embroidered chord of gold tied them together.

“Hen lantoti ānogar”

Blood of two

“Va sȳndroti vāedroma”

Joined as one

Jacaerys’ hand clasped with his, the open wounds upon their palms bleeding into one another. Unerringly intimate; eternally entwined. The golden chord soaked crimson. Red oozed into the chalice.

“Elēdroma iārza sīr”

And song of shadows

“Izulī ampā perzī”

Two hearts as embers

Lucerys stared into the chalice, at the placid surface of the blood wine, small dots of liquid crimson littered the rim, like crushed garnets. His reflection stared back.

The wine smelled of figs and iron and was thick upon his tongue. He’d never known something so foreign, yet so perfect. Heat raced in his veins when he swallowed it. Jacaerys’ eyes never left his, his hand clutched so tightly…they were a perfect fit.

“Prūmī lanti sēteksi”

Forged in Fourteen flames

Fourteen candles stood taller than the rest.

“Hen jenȳ māzīlarion”

A future promised in glass

Jacaerys tilted the chalice toward his lips. Lucerys squeezed at his brother’s hand, fresh blood sticking between their palms.

“Qēlossa ozūndesi”

The stars stand witness

“Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo”

The vow spoken through time

“Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.”

Of darkness and light.

“Your vows must be spoken.”

Lucerys nodded and swallowed the urge to mewl as Jacaerys’ hand squeezed his; both comforting and consuming.

“One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever,” they spoke the words in unison. The lingering taste of wine on his tongue deepened. The richness of Jacaerys’ scent thickened in his lungs. He could taste only fire and blood…

The priest lowered his hands and inclined his hooded head towards them to indicate the ceremony was complete. Lucerys’ entire being pulsed hotter than the dragonmont. They were married. Bound in blood.

He stared at Jacaerys, still struggling to fathom when his brother’s lips were on his - kissing him, ravenously; like he had waited his entire life for such a moment. And it returned to him, the frayed pieces of a memory, like torn pages in a book, as Jacaerys’ hands gathered his face between them, tender and so familiar - they had done this before.

Oh.

He felt a fool.

He gasped when his brother pulled away, mouth red. Lucerys’ legs felt boneless. His hand clutching Jacaerys’ sleeve, anchored to his brother, his husband, his other half…

Jacaerys’ tongue chased the trickle of crimson from Lucerys’ mouth. He mewled then, openly, unabashedly, without meaning to.

His brother’s forehead touched his, tacky with blood. A deep flanging purr swelled there and Lucerys struggled to remain upright with his knees turned to liquid. A strong arm curled around his waist.

The sky shook with the triumphant cries of Vermax and Arrax. Blasts of dragonfire burst above them in a spectrum of color, yellow-orange, gold, copper, and bronze, swirls of white, pearl, emerald, and jade green. There were streaks of rainbow light where their flames collided as their dragons danced in the sky overhead.

With the wedding complete, only one thing remained…

Their wedding night.

. . .

The inside of the Lord’s chambers were carved in dark stone, the snarling heads of dragons frame towering columns around the bed, a blood-red canopy draped above it.

Dragonstone was not known for its forgiving weather, and despite the chill that was ever-present in the air, Lucerys felt like the flesh might slough off his bones from the heat that raged within him.

A fire burned in the hearth that resembled a dragon’s maw, with flames crackling between pointed stone teeth.

A touch dragged featherlight over his pulse and he gasped, body burning hotter than the fire.

He looked at his brother - his husband with new eyes.

“Forgive me,” He murmured in apology, “I feel…warm.”

Jacaerys offered a smile, a flash of pointed teeth that left Lucerys breathless.

“‘Tis your blood calling.” His husband explained.

Lucerys flushed deeply.

“Do not fret,” Jacaerys hummed, fingers finding Lucerys’ chin, stroking the skin fondly, “We will answer it.”

Lucerys nodded, struck into a demure state, his heart hammered hard in his chest.

There was nothing entirely complicated about seduction, Lucerys knew, most Alphas simply desired a chase. A submissive bit of prey that they could play with before devouring them whole. It became clear Jacaerys was no different in that regard.

It brought to mind a memory far more recent…

“Tilt your head, just gently over your shoulder. A tad more. Perfect. Lower your eyelids. Less, Lucerys.” Daemon clucked.

“I feel like an imbecile,” Lucerys complained, though his step-father chuckled.

“I assure you, you don’t look like one.”

He snorted, “Is this how mother got you to fall in love with her?”

Daemon hummed a laugh, flicking Lucerys’ ear as he passed by, “Don’t slouch, extend your neck. There. Delightful. Any Alpha with a knot between their legs will understand the invitation. And, no, your mother was the exception in that regard.”

Lucerys rolled his eyes. Unsurprised to find that his mother, as always, was so perfect.

“You have no shortage of suitors, even now, but it never hurts to know how to keep them.”

Lucerys flushed, “I have…suitors?”

Daemon nodded, “Many. Amongst our vassals Houses Bar Emon, Celtigar, and Massey have already put forth proposals for your hand. You even have the attention of an Alpha up North…”

“Truly?” Lucerys gasped, strangely flattered.

“He’s been the most persistent of all,” Daemon said with a wink.

“That’s enough practice for today, little one. With any luck, matters of marriage won’t be relevant for some time. At least not while your mother and I draw breath.”

The fresh loss of his parents' death yawned open once more, like a gash across his heart, at the memory, but he ignored the pain. His blood had already spilled today. Lucerys turned his back to Jacaerys as he began the tedious process of removing countless metal pins from his hair. Discreetly, he nipped at the scent gland in his wrist.

The aroma of vanilla and browned butter, rich and sweet dripped into the air. A Siren’s call.

Unlike Ser Corwyn who had merely blushed and floundered at the presence of his scent, his husband however,  evidenced a more promising reaction.

He heard the sharp intake of Jacaerys’ breathing. The subtle beginnings of a growl left Lucerys weak at the knees.

He shook his curls loose with a soft sigh, he arched his back with an indulgent stretch.

When he turned back towards his husband, he did so employing everything Daemon had taught him. His head tilted coyly, his eyes hooded just right, bare neck extended boldly…

“Husband,” he called with intention, his voice a touch higher than it typically was, “shall we- mmph!”

Being kissed was as disorienting as it had been the first time, scorching, the taste of blood on his tongue. His husband’s hand cupped his bottom. Lucerys considered it a rousing success.

He panted, mouth slick. Jacaerys’ tongue glided against the roof of his mouth and something glittery and warm surged down to his toes. His brother’s fingers curled beneath Lucerys’ chin. A softer, kinder kiss was pressed to his crown, and yearning opened up in him like an old wound.

“I’ve missed you…” Jace whispered against Lucerys’ dark fringe. Longing resounded in his voice, spanning deep like the roots of a tree.

Lucerys swallowed, a strange sense of guilt left him feeling hulled. A part of him wanted to feel what his brother did as well, yet there were still pages torn from their story in his mind; pages he feared he may never recover.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t-“ He stammered, frightened that his husband may be slighted by history Lucerys had forgotten…

“I know,” Jacaerys soothed, thumb pressed to the cleft in Lucerys’ chin. A dizzy back and forth was etched in his flesh by the callused pad of his husband’s finger.

When his brother kissed him a second time, it was a slower exchange. Jacaerys’ mouth and tongue coaxed his into action. It was evocative, sensual, reciprocal; dragonsong. It was the stoking of embers, the spreading of wildfire to every corner of his being.

“On the bed,” his brother growled, a crass hand swatted his bottom.

Lucerys nodded.

Their robes were placed aside and Lucerys settled upon the bed, skin bare and pulsing hot.

He laid carefully upon his stomach, firelight licking at his back. His face burned as he arched his back, his bottom sticking out in subtle invitation.

The bed dipped beneath the addition of another body and Lucerys drew in a steadying breath. His lungs were coated with the aroma of white oak and an open flame; heady and thick. His hindbrain secreted pacifying pheromones that left him strangely at peace.

He was going to be claimed, he realized, holding fistfuls of sheets. He would be mounted like a broodmare…

A warm hand grazed his spine.

A breath that smelled of figs and blood wine caressed his ear.

“What are you doing?”

Laid upon his stomach, Lucerys should have felt vulnerable; his neck was left exposed. He tilted his head against the bedding, curls loose as he caught the corner of his husband’s statuesque visage knelt upon the bed.

“I-” Lucerys swallowed, mouth uncomfortably dry. Even now, as bare as the day he was born, he was meant to exude aplomb. Jacaerys clearly desired a confident lover.

“I am not so naive, journals and written accountings detail that being upon one’s stomach is the most efficient way to ensure a successful mount…”

Jacaerys’ expression remained unreadable, but then he chuckled that pleasant sound that buzzed in Lucerys’ ears.

“...a successful mount.” Jacaerys echoed to himself with a shake of his damnable silver head. Lucerys flushed hot with embarrassment, feeling anything but confident.

A warm hand settled upon the small of his back. The simple touch inspired a strange building pressure. Jacaerys’ lips touched his ear and Lucerys exhaled a flustered sound into the bedding.

“You have spent too long with Andals that do not know how to fuck…”

His husband’s voice dripped thick and hot into his skull, like honey, or blood. His quim clenched. His husband seemed intent on showing Lucerys the error in his ways.

“Fucking is a pleasure. And Omegas were made to be pleased.”

There was lightning in Jacaerys’ voice, raw power, like the crackling of logs in the hearth.

“Here,” Jacaerys murmured, “turn over.”

He blinked up at him, at his pale hair, at his violet eyes that were nearly glazed black, at the sharp contrast of gold light and rich velvety shadows painted by the hearth across his husband’s body. His mouth had grown wet at his lean abdomen and sturdy shoulders, at his firm chest and strong arms…

A picturesque virile Alpha.

“There you are,” Jacaerys hummed, eyes so very fond.

His thighs are eased apart and Jacaerys settled between them. Each touch exchanged between them felt like it might set them alight. Mere kindling to a fire.

Every sensation titillated and overwhelmed.

A finger trailed featherlight from the hollow of his throat to the spot above his navel where that building pressure persisted. He was left gasping. Tears beaded in his eyes.

“Mm,” Lucerys sighed, unaccustomed to such intimacy, such nearness as his husband caressed the spot as the feeling worsened.

His fingers dipped lower toward the dark mound of his quim, wiry curls matted with slick.

Lucerys’ hips leapt from the bed with a cry at the barest touch. A clever, knowing thumb unveiled his bud, teasing it. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, wetting his temples, inevitably soaking into his loose curls.

His husband’s damp fingers teased along the seam of his quim; leisurely, as if skimming the lines of a book he had read before.

He felt as a digit slipped down to the knuckle into his velvety embrace.

“Jacaerys,” He croaked. The concave dip of his stomach quivered as his husband’s attention returned to the pink ache of his bud; his fingers made a lewd sound, so thoroughly wetted with slick.

Jacaerys’ silver head lowered with a knowing look and began to kiss him breathlessly; each press of Jace’s lips against his own selfishly stole what air remained in his lungs, and good sense from his mind.

He anchored a fist in his husband’s pale hair if only for an ounce of control, to claim something in return.

He sucked on Jacaerys’ tongue when it dipped into his mouth; he felt his husband’s body shake with a melodic swell of his subvocals.

“When I claim you, it shall be like this,” Jacaerys murmured through spit-slick lips into Lucerys’ panting mouth, their foreheads were pressed together, tacky with dried blood and sweat.

“Not for a ‘successful mount’, but so that I may look upon you, so that I may see the pleasure writ across this face,” His husband paused mouthing at Lucerys’ jaw, weight steadied on a forearm, Jace gazed down at him with such longing, “to have gone six years without it, ‘tis a crime against our nature. Yours and mine.”

Lucerys longed to pry the words apart, like field dressing a fresh kill, to permit nothing to escape his grasp nor understanding. Yet, his husband’s fingers grazed his cunt once more and all sense was lost, bleeding from the pulsing, open wound of his weeping gash.

A few fingers glided into his heat, effortlessly and Lucerys moaned. Ashamed of how easily his body had been reduced to something so carnal.

He was lost in the pleasure, the thick haze of pheromones in his head, and the scent of Jacaerys in his lungs.

When his hips leapt once more, it was to chase the rhythm of Jacaerys’s fingers spreading him open; shaping the walls of his quim like a smith molded metal — with patience and dedication.

His husband’s digits sought deep, fingers squelching amidst the sticky nectar and slick flesh. Without preamble, that knot of tension above Lucerys’ navel was pulled so readily to its limits, fingers pressing at the tender raised flesh until the tension broke.

Lucerys yowled, the sensation smarted, whip-fast as he came undone. His cocklet, stiff and yearning just above the seam of quim, spurted a few delicate ribbons of white against his stomach and chest. His quim gushed as a more potent release took hold, soaking around his husband’s fingers and onto the bed. A pleasure swallowed him so readily that he could not make sense of an end or beginning.

A garbled stream of hybridized Valyrian and common peppered his ears like a rain of arrows.

“There you are,” Jacaerys huffed, eyes ablaze with awe, “Issa lēkia.”

“ābrazȳrys…” he snarled, “mate…”

His body, so laden with pheromones only longed for one thing. To be claimed.

What power you wield, dear brother.

Jacaerys had tasted his blood once already. Surely he wanted more, needed more, needed to sink his teeth into Lucerys’ neck, where his bonding gland lay pristine and untouched.

“I, I need-”

“I shall give you what you need, wife.”

Pangs of longing littered his flesh, like ground glass in raw meat. He watched, mouth wet as Jacaerys’ cock swayed heavy and thick between well-muscled thighs.

It seemed impossibly large then; too large.

“Mm, b-brother… it won’t-”

“It will fit,” Jacaerys assured with a smile that Luke wanted terribly to believe, a brief kiss was pressed to Lucerys’ lips, “you were made for this,” another kiss, “you were made for me.”

Lucerys nodded, permitting his body to fall slack, tensionless, sedate with pheromones and supplicant for his Alpha.

The fattened head of his husband’s cock rubbed slowly along his quim, gathering nectar along the girth.

His stomach quivered as the glistening crown of Jacaerys’ manhood pressed obscenely large to Luke’s quim, puffy and pink.

“Shh,” Jacaerys soothed. His thumb toyed with Lucerys’ bud, rubbing tender little circles as the head applied a hint more pressure.

His legs spasmed as pleasure frothed in his belly.

He whined, the lips of his quim stretching to welcome the thick, drooling head.

His hips inched higher as Jacaerys’ eased lower. He envisioned the steel-tipped head of an arrow piercing the soft cushion of a straw-stuffed target.

The lips of his quim opened like a flower in bloom.

Jacaerys held himself painfully still as Lucerys mewled beneath him at the thin barrier of his maidenhead halting his brother’s path.

His brother kissed the salty spill of his tears; seeming to savor them as readily as he had Luke’s blood.

He awaited the agony that every maester and septa warned young Omegas of, for a geyser of blood to burst from between his thighs as his Alpha sank down to the bulb of his knot.

Yet, as Jacaerys finally slipped completely inside, it wasn’t at all as violent as Lucerys had imagined. It stretched the walls of his quim to what felt like its limits, certainly, but, the sensation did not inspire any pain. Rather, it felt like a wound being sewn shut, flesh knitted together, a sword in a sheath, a sense of completeness so profound that he wished to weep.

Oh.

“There you are,” Jace panted, a wry turn to his lips before his hips eased back.

A hand cradled his jaw as they laid, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Blood upon their skin, sharing the same dewy breath.

One flesh, one heart, one soul…

The motion of Jacaerys’ hips was fluid, they beat against him as wrathful as the gale upon the sea. Every wave threatened to drag him under. Devastatingly beautiful.

Lucerys gasped, mouth agape as his brother’s eyes stared into his. Jacaerys’ hips pumped, large cock pushing and pulling his insides; molding him anew.

There was a harmony to it, the creaking of the bed, the crackling of the logs, the wet rhythm of Jacaerys’ hips colliding with his. The blood-red canopy above the bed quivered like a razed kingdom behind his husband’s silver head.

He dug frantic nails into the muscle of his brother’s back. He felt power. True power rippling beneath his fingertips.

The broad tip of his brother’s manhood found the raised flesh tucked away within his walls upon every thrust; pleasure spiraled and screamed within him.

Jacaerys’ grip tightened around his jaw. He began to lose track of what limbs were his and which were not.

Barely-there breasts bounced with every thrust, grazing his brother’s muscled chest. His nipples pebbled stiff as they scraped against Jacaerys, the sensation worsening the tension that tangled in his belly.

His quim fluttered, each pulse yearned to draw his husband deeper.

Lucerys dug a heel into the flexing muscle of his husband’s buttocks, urging him faster.

He mewled. Beyond words. Thrashing to bare his neck; recalcitrant and desperate. That only made Jacaerys fuck him harder.

Bloated stones, swollen with seed, slapped against Lucerys’ milk-white bottom.

Jacaerys’ free hand dug into the pliant flesh of Lucerys’ soft little bottom, urging his narrow hips to meet every harrowing plunge of Jace’s cock.

The wet lips of his quim, stretched thin, kissed the bulbous swell of Jacaerys’ knot upon every perfect union of their hips.

He urged his hips down, guided by his brother’s hand, yearning in a primal mania to have that knot inside of him.

The head of his brother’s cock kissed his womb, caressing that soft pink channel on every deep thrust.

His insides felt molten, like the flesh may slough off his bones at any moment. Like every cant of his brother-husband’s hips urged a tongue of dragonfire to lap at that sacred place. The place he yearned to have filled.

Jacaerys offered the dripping length of his tongue and Lucerys suckled upon it readily, filled by him so completely.

He anchored himself to his husband, nails caught upon the rippling muscle of his back.

He has no words left to give, save for a garbled string of “please”. 

“Are you close, my love?”

Jacaerys asked, voice little more than a growl, his forehead pressed to Luke’s.

Lucerys thrashed at the delicious torment of his building release, tears streamed down his cheeks. He was close, horrendously so. 

His husband’s lips found his, drinking deeply of his anguish.

The cadence of his husband’s thrust had grown all the more ardent in response. The very bed seemed to quake. Yet all he could see was Jacaerys, the silver of his hair, the violet of his eyes, Lucerys’ own blood painted upon his skin…

“Please!” Lucerys cried out, drunk upon the scent of white oak and an open flame, burning with a longing writ in their shared blood upon his very bones. Stripped of all constraints and vanity, he was simply an Omega in dire need of his Alpha.

When he arched his neck, his husband hadn’t the will to refuse a second time. He mouthed at the spot that so dearly needed attention, he adored it with his lips and tongue.

Each thrust fucked him so deeply into the rich, sweat-soaked featherbed. He arched, yowling at the unbearable sensation of his husband’s broad head at his womb.

“Once more, wife,” Jacaerys panted, breath hot as dragonfire ghosted along his lips, “come for me, brother. Shower me in your love.”

His bud was found and assaulted with the unrelenting press of sword-callused fingers; Urging him and higher.

And in a moment, he was undone, his release snapped like their chord of blood-red and gold and his world shook like all of Dragonstone would fall apart around them. His release gushed from his stretched-wide quim, drenching his husband and the bedding further. Jacaerys growled a deeply pleased guttural sound, his hips continued to pump into the squelching mess of Lucerys’ dripping sex, the firm grip of his hand cradled Lucerys’ jaw, forbidding him from looking elsewhere, at anything but Jacaerys.

He could only watch as a trembling look of awe passed over his husband’s face.

Jace’s hips surged forward and Luke bowed off of the bed at the undeniable ache of his husband’s knot popping inside. The thick head pressed against the slender pink opening of Lucerys’ womb. His thighs shook. Teeth were at his neck, kissing then breaking the skin. The bite was clean and perfect and unifying. Lucerys cried out towards the blood-red canopy above them. In that moment he saw a burst of color behind his eyes: the endless rainbow of their combined dragonfire. A third sharp release was upon him; brief and blinding. His cocklet spurted weakly, his quim clenched, milking the fattened bulb of his Alpha’s knot. A desperate whine fell from his lips as he felt it begin to swell. They were tied now, irrefutably: in body and blood.

His unspooling mind retreated to their vows once more as his brother’s seed distended the concave of his belly —— one flesh, one heart, one soul.

A rumbling purr started in his chest and his fingers wound through Jacaerys’ silver hair of their own volition. It was an intrinsic need as primal as the ache to purr, was the need to touch his brother. His husband. His mate.

He became prey pinned beneath his Alpha. His toes curled in atavistic delight.

He felt unbearably whole like he had found his missing piece.

When his brother’s lips inevitably withdrew from the fresh site of Lucerys’ bondmark, he was overcome with the bone-deep urge to weep. Yet, Jacaerys soothed him with a low, nearly musical flange of his subvocals that said, ‘Rest easy, little brother. I am here.’ Lucerys felt the spike of pacifying pheromones filling his frantic hindbrain, putting him promptly at ease. He felt the press of an aquiline nose to his temple, gentle and familiar. He fought his body's need to fall slack and submissive, instead twisting stubbornly upon the bed if only to feel the tug of his Alpha’s knot keeping them tied. A satisfied prickle of overstimulated tears stung his eyes. A dutiful tongue lapped at the slow ooze of blood from the site upon his neck.

A tug persisted at the base of his skull. A nascent thing through which all flowed. Their bond.

There was no word so apt for his current state other than claimed. Even still, adrift within the overwhelming emotion of it all, Lucerys sought some semblance of assurance; some logic to the disorder Jacaerys had made of him.

His mind scrabbled for clarity, despite how his eyelids drooped and his limbs curled into the preternatural heat of his Alpha’s body, wrapped in the woodsy aroma of white oak and the bittersweet bite of an open flame.

He fell deeper still into a place so utterly content as an aquiline nose and warm lips nuzzled fondly at his hairline. It was not long until whisps of vanilla and browned butter roamed in fragrant curls from his sweat-slicked skin.

“I’ll be going soon,” Lucerys said amidst a yawn as firm fingers pressed warm divots into the underside of his thigh.

“Going where, precisely?” Jacaerys asked, indolent, but displeased. The emotion trickled over, like rainwater through a leaking roof. Lucerys frowned at the feeling.

He thought of propriety, of what he’d been taught of formal marriages such as theirs.

“To my own chambers, husband,” Lucerys informed, though he hadn’t the strength to lift his head while he spoke.

“I could use the rest,” he added sweetly, knowing an Alpha’s ego was utterly in want of stroking.

Jacaerys exhaled through his nose before Lucerys felt its straight bridge touch the upturned curl of his own.

“Mm,” his Alpha hummed, “then rest.”

Longing poured over as a hand settled at the dip in Lucerys’ waist where they lay.

“You are my wife now, Lucerys. My chambers are yours.”

Curious, he thought to himself.

It brought to mind a memory formerly lost to him…

“Let me in!” Lucerys demanded in a nasally whisper, lips pressed to the crack in the door.

“Jace-”

The door budged far enough for him to catch the gleam of his elder brother’s silver-gold hair and he felt a swell of victory.

“I can’t let you in, Luke. Mother will have my head-”

“She will not! Oh, Jace, she won’t catch us. She never does.”

Jacaerys’ face twisted in a conflicted expression, but in his heart, Lucerys knew he had won. The door swung open and Lucerys rushed inside. His hand clasping with his brother’s pulling him towards the bed.

“You mustn’t make a sound, hm?” Jacaerys warned, a finger held to Luke’s lips.

Lucerys nodded giddily.

“I won’t. I promise.”

As the memory faded, Lucerys found himself unbearably drowsy, his head pressed to a strong chest, his cold little feet tucked to the backs of warm knees, as familiar as the lines traversing his palms.

I had mastered you once brother, he thought to himself as he squirmed closer into the cage of his husband’s arms, I can do it again.

[certifiedskywalker]

She Keeps Me Warm - Rhaenyra Targaryen

nyrathecruel asked: Could I request Rhaenyra x handmaiden!reader where they’re drawn to each other from the moment they meet and bond over their mutual trust issues regarding losing loved ones while slowly falling in love on Dragonstone? Like Nyra is cold and distant with everyone else, hesitant to let anyone in, but she just clicks with reader and whenever they’re alone, Nyra just melts and goes all soft, all affectionate touches and sweet nicknames and tender looks? (Two of my fav nicknames she’d call reader are: my little one, and Perzītsos (little flame) Maybe even a bit of soft smut, though it doesn’t have to be smut if you’re not comfortable

Anonymous asked: Could you do a Rhaenyra x fem stark reader pls :)

A/N: I had TWO IDEAS for these requests! So stay tuned for another fic publishing soon!

They were not well-kept secrets, Daemon’s unsavory proclivities. So, in turn, Rhaenyra went to neither effort to hide her misery nor how you, a simple handmaiden from the North, seemed to be its only remedy. 

“Enter, perzītsos. He has gone.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the low sound of Rhaenyra’s voice and you pulled your ever-listening ear from the ironwood door. Your hand, fumbling with the wiry giddiness of a lightning bolt, found the cool handle and pushed with a turn. Tongues of yellow and orange greeted you with licks of diminished warmth along with the sight of Rhaenyra, bathed in the same glow. She sat, body spread and extended over the plush armchair before the fireplace.

“Apologies, my Princess, I did not wish to intrude on-”

“What have I told you?” 

Her voice was low still, her eyes still fixed on the dwindling flames, as she addressed you. Heat rushed up to your face and washed down like the tides of the Narrow Sea. Your mouth opened slightly before you closed it, your muscles suddenly all-too-alive. Luckily, the Princess of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne, clarified. 

“You must call me Rhaenyra,” she turned to you then, light eyes darkened by the colors of fire and smiling softly. “I will not have you hiding behind formality or dutiful, Northern niceties.”

“Apologies,” you echoed, swallowing hard. “I did not wish to intrude on your lawful husband…having you.” 

Rhaenyra’s smile faded, ebbed into a flatline of stone sternness you recognized from meetings with the maester. “He left before dusk on Caraxes, an hour or so before by which I told you to arrive. There was no having of any sort.”

She moved to her feet then, her shoes knocking against the heated stone floor of her chambers as she approached you like the Blood Wyrm in her crimson gown. Her eyes were squinted slightly, focused on you, your face, reading how your eyes slowly widened with her every careful step. It was the same manner in which she approached you the first time: calculated, a predator eyeing prey. The lightning returned again, sending you into a brewing storm that culminated in Rhaenyra’s lips.

When she stood full before you, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the column of your neck. Your breath hitched immediately, and trepidation caught in your throat.

“Princess,” you whispered, though it sounded more like a gasp. Rhaenyra immediately pulled away from your neck, revealing her furrowed brow and playful scowl. “I still do not understand.”

“My perzītsos, what more is there to understand?” Her hands raced up the bodice of your gown to your neck. Her hands were warm dancing along your most sensitive skin. 

“Prince Daemon-” “Is off sowing dragonseed,” Rhaenyra said, though the ease with which she used the term alarmed you. “Just as my court remains adrift gathering council. All men, all cold, making me colder and I will not have that. I will have you.”

Rhaenyra pressed her lips back against your neck, closer to your jaw. You shivered again, your body knocking against hers instinctively, careening into her warmth. The tip of her nose tickled your skin as her lips went lower, nipping at your collarbone. Your hands rose to her waist, the whaleboning of her corset bodice. Beneath the fabric, you could feel her breathing grow more erratic. Your own breathing grew shallow with excitement, so much so that you pushed the Princess gently away. 

She gave you a worried look, her hands caressing your flushed cheek. “Do you not wish to have me?”

White hot, dragon fire panic shot through your veins. “No, no, I-”

But Rhaenyra was recoiling despite your manic clarification, already reigning in herself, her want. She was cooling into her hardened self, the soul sent off to Dragonstone by the eyes of the critical court in King’s Landing. You had seen it too many times before. How practiced Rhaenyra was as holding parts of herself back.

You reached out, just as she had, with your lips finding her neck first and your hands on her gowned hips. She was stiff under your touch but for a moment until she quickly melted into you as your mouth moved up. You pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek before pulling away, eager to see her pleased, unworried; eager to see the Rhaenyra she only seemed to show you.

“I don’t understand what it means,” you breathed out, not entirely knowing what you yourself meant, only that whatever it was made your heart sing.

Rhaenyra seemed to reach and read the most clouded part of your mind, obscured to even you. Her smile returned in glorious full and you felt your heart tickle in your chest. In turn, you felt your own lips quirk upwards, ready to swallow the newness of it all.

“You mean perzītsos?”

You nodded, unsure at first, but, sure in how it made Rhaenyra smile.

“Perzītsos. Little flame. You burn in me. You keep me warm,” Rhaenyra softened, then, her smile ebbing ever-so-slightly. “In the darkest moments, you keep me alive.”

Without wasting another second lost in the storm, you barreled through and crashed your lips into Rhaenyra’s. It felt like you were falling until you actually were as Rhaenyra pulled you down onto the silken sheets of her bed, and the rest was warm.

[atiny-piratequeen]

Against the Tide: Eighteenth Dal Segno (Ch. 18 Pt. 2)

Pairing: Poly OT8

•❥ Rating: Explicit (18+)

•❥ Genres: Heavy Angst, Action, Romance, Fluff, Smut, Fantasy

•❥ Series AU Tags: Demon Pirates, Supernatural, Poly Relationship (mxm), Past and Modern Day AU, Mythology Au, Slow Burn, Slice of Life, College Au, Rock Band Au, Happy Ending Endgame

•❥ Chapter Tws: Migraines, Nosebleeds, Blood, Guilt, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Misunderstandings, Poison

•❥ Chapter Sws: Foursome, Consentacle Tentacles (lets go Whiro!), Temperature Play, Comfort Sex, Finger Sucking, Jacob's Ladder Piercing, Hair Pulling, Blowjob, Frottage, Bareback, Auralism, Scent Kink, Cum Swallowing, Biting, Dacryphilia

•❥ WC: 14.6k+ out of 25.5k

•❥ A/N: The blue hellsite's devs are full of shit and my chapter was too big to post all in one so now I have to break it up into two posts. It would be real lovely for my AtTiny enjoyers to make sure to reblog my work when they're finished :3 This was going to be the reveal chapter but it was already 25k so I decided to break it up. Which...was clearly the right option since tumblr's new posting limitations hates me and my big chapters lmao. Thank you for waiting and stay tuned :) Also, if you haven't yet, maybe check out my new universe Ataraxia while you wait for the next chapter?

•❥AO3 | Taglist Form (Please make sure your urls are updated and able to actually be tagged) | Commission Sheet𓆩⟡𓆪

•❥ ©atiny-piratequeen 2024. do not repost, translate, or use my works.

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✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤♖✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤✣

April 1st

7:34am

-220 Days Remain-

✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤♖✣✤✣✤✣✤✣✤✣

“Hold your head up. Keep your back straight. Slouching is unbecoming of a Prince.” 

Seonghwa opened his eyes, looking to his left, and spotting the form of his child self, staring at his old instructor. 

Ah, a dream. 

He watched his child self stand straighter, his grey eyes hardening as stared at his instructor, his jaw, as cherub as it may be, locking. 

“Yes, Teacher. I apologize.” 

“Perfect, Prince Seonghwa. Now, raise your sword. To be a leader, you must never show that you are tired. Never show weakness. Those who follow you will sense something is amiss and if their leader is weak, they will lose hope. Even if you know your back is against the wall, you musn’t show your subordinates. Always remember this.” 

Seonghwa’s child self gripped the practice sword tight, nodding as he once again began to swing at the dummy before him, keeping his posture perfect. 

The current Seonghwa watched his younger self before turning, exhaling gently and heading in the opposite direction. 

He walked through rustling trees and the scenery began to melt into something different. 

Intricate designs on the carpet beneath his feet, expensive paintings lining the walls of rulers before him. Beautiful vases full of freshly picked and tended to flowers. 

The hall stopped on two frames. 

One, burned to cinders, of his father. Through the ash and damage, Seonghwa almost could not recognize him. 

He, however, knew the hilt of that falcata well. 

The very one situated on his hip currently. 

Seonghwa grit his teeth and looked to the final frame in the hall of rulers. 

Staring back at him was an image of himself. Or, rather, his other self. 

Inky black hair, piercing ice blue eyes, the deep crimson streaks on his eyes and along his lips. A crown of ice sat atop his head. 

Seonghwa approached ‘himself’, staring into his own eyes. The painting smiled back at him, tilting its head slightly before leaning out of it and towards him. 

The ex prince did not shy away, even when ‘he’ reached out, grabbing his wrist and smearing paint all over Seonghwa’s it, right over his compass stone. 

Seonghwa glanced down before looking back at ‘himself’. 

Crimson lips opened. 

“Come. It is not these halls you wish to walk through, now is it?” 

Seonghwa opened his mouth to question ‘him’, but was yanked through the painting. 

He fell through the painting, careening downwards, eyes widening as the color began to fade around him. His ‘other’ self gripped his hand tight, a wild smile on his face as they fell. 

“Where are we going?” Seonghwa hadn’t opened his mouth, instead he heard his own voice echoing through the space they were falling through. The ‘other’ him glanced over his shoulder at Seonghwa before looking down. 

“The place we’ve been yearning. Even if its for a little bit.” 

Before Seonghwa could reply, the gray blur around him as he fell began to rapidly fill with color once more until it cradled him like a blanket. He could no longer feel ‘him’ holding his hand. 

Seonghwa did not know when he’d closed his eyes again, but when he opened him, he was…home. 

No, not the castle, not the house in Seoul…he was home. 

The scent of salt from the ocean filled his nose first, then the rhythmic sound of water splashing along the hull of The Utopia. 

Seonghwa felt his throat tighten as he looked around. 

“I’ve never cooked swordfish before, but I’m excited to try!” 

He turned his head, watching as Yeosang stood with his hands on his hips, admiring the giant swordfish Jongho and Whiro had hefted aboard. San and Wooyoung stood not too far off, with Wooyoung singing a song they’d picked up in the last port town, slowly forming a new set of knives for their beloved chef to hack apart the fish for easier transport down into the galley. 

“I don’t care what ya do with it, just make it good for all the damn effort it took for us to bring this big ass fish up here, yeah?”

“Don’t be so fucking rude when asking for something, jackass.” 

Yeosang smiled patiently as Whiro rose from Jongho’s skin, growling and starting another one of their usual arguments. 

“Thanks so much, Doc. I drank that concoction you gave me yesterday and I feel leagues better than I did before!” Sana cheered, slapping Yunho on the back before she rushed over to get to work, tying her hair back as she did. 

Yunho watched her go with a smile, muttering thanks to Geb as he checked his watch and startled. 

“Ah! I’m late! I have to feed Atlas.” He rushed past Seonghwa, smiling and waving at him before hurrying below the deck. Seonghwa waved back and continued walking, finding Mingi seated on a barrel, glasses balanced on his nose as he scanned whatever was on the report in his hands. 

Seonghwa felt his heart clench for a moment. 

He stopped in front of Mingi. His presence drew the boatswain’s attention in an instant, with Mingi peering up at him over the rim of his glasses. Once he realized who it was, he set the report down. 

The dark-haired man sent him a big, genuine smile. 

“Hey! We’re lookin’ good. I think I finally got the hang of the numbers Cap’n wants to keep while also being mindful of resourc-Oh!”Mingi stopped short when Seonghwa threw his arms around his frame. 

He looked at the First Mate with concern before closing his eyes and rubbing his back. 

“It’s not like you to slouch, Seonghwa.” 

“I just want to hold you again, it’s been so long. Please…please let me just hold you a little longer.” Seonghwa almost didn’t recognize his own voice as he pushed it out. Mingi hummed before looking towards the sky, exhaling a small, good-natured laugh. 

“You’ll hurt your back if you don’t stand up straight.” 

“To hell with my back. To hell with it all. I just want to fix this. I miss…I miss this. I miss us. All of us.” 

Mingi gently pulled him away, smiling at him and cocking his head. 

“I know you do. After all, if it were just him you cared about, wouldn’t you have run into him first?”

Seonghwa watched as Mingi hopped off of the barrel, standing taller than him and cupping his face. His rough thumbs wiped Seonghwa’s cheeks of tears that had yet to fall. 

“I need to get stronger.” 

“I agree with you.” 

Seonghwa stared at Mingi, his heart pounding as the boatswain leaned in. Instinctively, he closed his eyes, expecting to feel the phantom brush of lips against his own. 

Instead, Mingi placed his lips near the shell of his ear. 

“We are in the past, Seonghwa. Nothing is going to change that. You can only change the future.” 

Seonghwa exhaled shakily, holding Mingi tighter. He pulled the ex prince closer and set his chin on his shoulder. 

“Regardless of what has happened, what will happen. I want you to know something. Take it to heart, okay?” Mingi ran his fingers over the fabric of Seonghwa’s clothes, admiring it as he spoke. 

“What lies behind you and what lies in front of you…that all pales in comparison to what lies inside of you, Seonghwa. And this goes for all of us.” Mingi pulled away for the last time, stopping to steal a long awaited kiss from Seonghwa’s lips. He kept their heads together, staring into Seonghwa’s teary eyes before grabbing his report and turning. 

“Go on, you should see him before you wake up.” 

With that, he walked away from Seonghwa, leaving the ex prince there to collect himself. 

It took the blonde longer than he would like to admit, but once he did, he exhaled and turned on his heel, rushing through the bodies on the ship. 

He did not care for the fact that he ran through some figures, with them blurring into vague aberrations before returning to the familiar faces of his old crew members, going about their business as if they hadn’t been disturbed. 

He found him on the quarter-deck, his back to him as he checked the compass in his hand. 

Seonghwa flew over, hugging him tight, burying his face into his back and letting the tears he’d barely reeled in freefall from his eyes. 

The man grunted before he glanced back, chuckling softly and placing a hand on Seonghwa’s.

That laugh, that beautiful sound. 

“It’s not often I see ya cryin’. Can’t say I’m a fan of seein' ya all messed up like this when yer not feelin’ good.” Captain Hongjoong turned in his arms, kissing the top of Seonghwa’s head and then laughing when the prince pulled him into a desperate kiss with no fanfare. 

“Please, stay with me. All of you please don’t go again. I…I don’t want to wake up please just let me stay.” 

Hongjoong looked at him before he glanced off towards the sea. There was a pained look in his eyes, but it was gone a moment later, as he turned his attention back to Seonghwa. 

“I know it’s unfair, but I’m askin’ ya to stand up straight and be strong.”

Seonghwa felt pain in his chest as he stood up, watching as Hongjoong leaned over the monkey rail. He wanted to scramble to grab him, to yank him back into his arms, but the rational side of him knew if he panicked, he’d awaken from this much earlier than he was willing to risk. 

Not now. Please, not now. 

He just wanted to talk for a bit longer. Just to hear his lover’s voice. Seonghwa focused when Hongjoong’s voice carried over the sound of the splashing waves. 

“What do you think it means to be a Captain?”

Seonghwa stared at Hongjoong’s back for a long time, watching as he gazed down to the deck below. Occasionally, someone would look up, notice the man's watchful eye, and give him a respectful nod, a wave, a fist pat across their own chest in acknowledgment.

Seonghwa watched them silently. 

“I haven't the slightest clue, putois. I don’t…I don’t think I’ve done you any justice in your… absence.” Seonghwa cringed, glancing at the deck below his feet. 

Hongjoong laughed and leaned on the wooden rail, the wind sweeping his hair. A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. 

“Ah, after all of this time, you’re still thinkin' with that Princely mindset, eh?  C’mon, Seonghwa, think out of tha box!”

Seonghwa’s lip curled but he held back the tongue lashing he had for him, instead watching Hongjoong shift from foot to foot, humming. 

“To me,” he started. “Every breath I take is for my crew. I would do anything for them. No pain is too great. No injury too grave. As long as I can move, I will ensure my crew is protected.”

Seonghwa looked down at the men shuffling about, lips slightly pursed. He could see Daniel gently motioning in a direction, followed by half a dozen members trotting down below the deck in mismatched harmony, carefree smiles on their faces. 

His eyes drifted back to Hongjoong.

“And what about you?”

Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder.

“What about me? I have this gift now. And with it, I protect my crew. My ship. I can be cut to pieces, but the moment I mend myself back, I will come back. Better. Stronger. This is what a Captain does. At least to me. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much sleep I lose, I pledged to do right by my crew.”

Seonghwa hummed, closed his eyes, and let out a shaky exhale.

What it means to be a Captain, huh?

“I don’t think I have what it takes.” 

“I think that’s bullshit.” 

Seonghwa opened his eyes, and all seven of his lovers stood before him.  He looked around, his brows pinching together as his lip wobbled again. Hongjoong walked over to him, cupping his cheek. 

“I have to go, Seonghwa. It’s about that time, eh?” 

“No! No wait, please!”

“It’s going to be okay. I believe in you. I wouldn’t have trusted my crew with you if I didn’t. Don’t give up. Not when you’ve found me. Keep going.” 

“Hongjoong, I can’t, okay?! I’ve..I’ve ruined everything. Mingi hates me…you don’t remember us, please. Just…just let me stay-”

“It’s time to wake up, Seonghwa.” 

Seonghwa watched as the man before him changed, the shaggy chestnut mullet now a well trimmed and fluffy black and white nest of loose curls. Soft, honey brown eyes stared up at him and Seonghwa looked down at the image of the current Hongjoong. 

“I…I don’t want to wake up-”

The musician placed his hand on the center of Seonghwa’s chest. 

“Get up, Seonghwa.”

“No! No, no, no, just a bit longer-”

“It’s time to get up.”

Hongjoong pushed him, and Seonghwa found himself powerless to stop it, falling back with the image of his lovers staring back at him being the last thing he saw before he fell through the deck. 

Once again…the color around him began to fade to gray as the ship got further and further away.

And then-

“CHEESE WILL PERFORM LIFE SAVING MEASURES! EVERYONE STAND BACK!”

Seonghwa jolted up, the sensation of falling the second time triggering his instincts. In an instant, Cheese came storming towards him, knocking him out of his bed and onto the floor before pressing onto his chest. 

“Live, Master Captain Seonghwa!!! LIIIIIIVE!”

“C-Cheese, he’s immortal, he doesn’t need you to do chest compressions-” San frowned, brows furrowed. Whiro cackled from where he’d pulled himself up from Jongho’s skin. 

“No, no, please let him continue, this is fuckin’ hilarious.”

Jongho rolled his eyes and made his way over, picking Cheese up and frowning down at the oldest immortal. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

Seonghwa sat staring at the ceiling in shock for a moment before he pushed himself up into a sitting position. 

Jongho and Yunho stood closest to his bed, worried expressions on their faces. Wooyoung was not too far off, holding a bowl of cool water as Yeosang wrang out a rag, paused mid-way as he stared at Seonghwa, bewildered. San sighed, setting aside the smelling salts he had fished out of Yunho’s room, pursing his lips in concern. 

Mingi stood in the doorway, quietly observing. 

“You were…screaming and crying in your sleep. We couldn’t wake you at all. Are…are you alright?” Yeosang inquired, rushing over to place the rag on his head. Seonghwa momentarily forgot the nature of the very powers inside of him, instead relaxing the instant the cool rag touched his head. 

He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his eyes and throat stung, proof of the aforementioned screaming and crying episodes. Yunho ducked down and picked him up, setting him in his bed and holding a hand over his body. A faint green glow emitted from it as he seemed to check Seonghwa’s body with his powers. 

“Your vitals are good. It seems it was only a nightmare. However, I am detecting traces of-” Geb’s tender voice sounded from Yunho’s lips and Seonghwa shook his head, cutting him off. 

“I’m fine, Geb, please don’t worry.”

Yeosang clenched his fists.

“You’re doing it again. Why?”

Seonghwa’s gaze lifted to Yeosang, blinking in surprise.

“Doing…? What am I-”

“Did you know? Your scent changes when you lie. When you tell half truths, even. Everyone’s does.” Yeosang walked up, eyes blazing. Seonghwa stared up at him, pressing his lips together. There was a flash of something in his eyes, Mingi knew it well. The oldest of their group of immortals didn’t like to be challenged, and would usually respond accordingly. 

However, this time, as quickly as the look crossed his face, it was gone, replaced with a stone-esque poker face, albiet a bit too late for those who knew him well.

So…everyone in the room. 

“Yeosang, there is no need to be concerned.”

“Show me your side. Lift your shirt up, actually.”

“....”

“If there’s no need for concern, there’s no reason to not show me, right? My nose can just as easily be playing tricks, right?” He pointed to Seonghwa, eyes bleeding to crimson.

“Explain to me why I smell your blood, since there is no cause for concern, Park Seonghwa.”

A silence fell over the room that instantly made the air stifling. Seonghwa rubbed his tired eyes and let out an exhausted sigh before sending his lovers a smile that didn’t convince a single one of them he had pulled it together. 

“I…truly do not wish for any more fighting between us. I’ve been the reason for so much, already. They will heal. I’m sorry to disturb everyone so early. Thank you for checking on me. I…need to organize my thoughts and I will be alright.” He ran a hand through Cheese’s fur as he spoke to them. 

San looked down as he did. Seonghwa’s hand was trembling. 

“Seonghwa…” Yeosang realized his out of character outburst had made the man put up his walls again. A pang of guilt struck him hard and reached for him. Seonghwa caught his hand, turning it in one fluid movement and placing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” He spoke softly, a sense of finality in his tone. 

Drop it, please.

“We’re gonna get him back, Hwa.” San sat on the edge of the bed, putting his hand over Seonghwa’s free one. The ex prince let out a small exhale. He turned his hand up, taking San’s in his and raising it to his lips like he had done with Yeosang’s. San didn’t move, his expression softening as Seonghwa brushed his lips over his knuckles and pressed San’s palm to his cool cheek. 

“I…I know. I won’t stop until I do. I want…to be a man worthy of guiding and loving all of you.” His normally sure and bold voice came out as a mere whisper. 

Wooyoung came to his side quickly. 

“Of course you are!” 

Seonghwa could sense out of his peripheral that Mingi was still there, watching quietly. He had the hindsight not to glance in his direction and risk sending the wrong message. Instead, he closed his eyes, speaking clearly as he held San’s hand in place. 

“Do not misunderstand. I do not say these words because I wish for any of you to feel pity for me. I say them because I have made grave mistakes and I wish to atone for them. Until I do, how can I look any of you in the eyes and call myself a leader? How can I call myself an adequate lover when I have let you all down so tremendously?”

Jongho glanced at Yunho, who seemed to have a comment on the tip of his tongue but refrained. A guilty look settled on his face instead. 

‘I’ve pushed him too much, Geb.’

‘Perhaps.’

“My actions and…the harm they have caused are my own. It is on me to right these wrongs. My body will heal from these wounds in time. With that being said,” Seonghwa got out of his bed, looking around everyone in the room. 

“I wish to try that trial once more. But I don’t want anyone to feel rushed or pressured into doing it instantly like we had before.” he ran a hand through his hair and nodded. 

“I will be down for breakfast soon, I just…I would like to shower first, I'm covered in sweat. Thank you all for checking on me.” He stood, gently maneuvering around Cheese so the canine didn't fall. 

His remaining lovers exchanged concerned glances at one another before Jongho reached for him, catching his wrist and sending him a smile. 

“Mind if we join?”

Seonghwa’s lips parted, before he glanced down, finding a shadow subtly looped around his ring finger, tugging gently. 

The ex prince looked up, pressing his lips together to hide the small wobble. Gods, was he not done with the crying? Did it follow him into the waking world?

“C'mon.” Even Whiro regarded him with a tender tone, and Seonghwa found himself nodding, his feet slightly dragging along the cool floors. 

Mingi stepped out of the doorway as Jongho and Whiro ushered Seonghwa out.

“Seonghwa,”

The blonde perked, looking over his shoulder at Mingi. He rubbed his arm slightly, looking to the floor. Cheese had appeared at his side, rubbing against his leg before sitting at his feet.

“...Make sure to wash your face. It's…puffy. And, um. Drink water. So you don't get a headache. From the…crying and all.”

Seonghwa slow blinked at him before he let out a small exhale, the tears he'd been trying to force back down flowing from his face at the clear-albeit a bit awkwardly executed-words of concern.

“Thank you, Mingi. I'll be back soon.” Seonghwa’s voice somehow remained stable despite his tears (and the occasional laughs as he tried to wipe his face)

Jongho ducked down, looping his arm under the taller immortal's legs, picking him up.

“I got you. Just put your head on our shoulder and let us take it from here.” Jongho’s voice grew further from everyone as he carried Seonghwa down the hall.

Yeosang looked at the floor, guilt tearing at him. He quietly excused himself, cursing in several tongues as he maneuvered past his lovers. 

“I…I’ll make breakfast…”He trailed off, the usual excitement in his voice to do so gone as he jogged downstairs.

It wasn’t like him to lose his cool like that, but he could see the clear hurt on Seonghwa’s face and it was like watching a horrible accident in slow motion.

Still in the doorway, Mingi glanced into the room at the remaining occupants before ruffling Cheese's fur.

“Come on, let's go help Yeosang.” He nodded towards the stairs and Cheese happily trotted after him. 

In the bathroom, Seonghwa watched as Jongho and Whiro spoke back and forth to one another in Māori, moving about the room and grabbing different items. 

“Should we do a bath or shower?”

“Shower. I don't know if he's going to want to sit and be in his own head in a bath. Plus, foxy is making breakfast. It'd be rude to let it get cold by spending all day in the tub.”

Seonghwa couldn't understand a word they were saying, but he could tell they were working harmoniously, probably bouncing ideas off of one another.

“It's…nice seeing you two like this.” He softly spoke. Jongho perked for a moment before he extended his hand.

“We love you.” 

Seonghwa took his hand without hesitation, leaning into his space and holding his forearms gently. He pressed their foreheads together, staring into Jongho’s eyes. 

He noticed the right one had gone red, and his gentle smile grew as half of Jongho’s silken locks went blonde. 

“Couldn't wait your turn?” Seonghwa tried to jest but both of them cupped his face.

“I'm okay with sharing.”

“Just enjoy the pampering, pretty boy.”

Seonghwa ignored the latter response, closing his eyes and letting both tug him into a kiss. 

The two of them kissed him with a sense of gentleness foreign to Seonghwa. He was used to the demanding push and pull energies Whiro often put into his kisses, fighting without pause to control every aspect. 

Kissing Jongho was like approaching a newborn fawn in a way. He was far from the most delicate of the bunch. Still, Seonghwa always held in his subconscious the boundaries that the youngest had set in regards to his personal space and what did or didn't make him uncomfortable in moments in intimacy, even if he insisted on it being 'okay because it's you'.

Now, in this moment, Seonghwa felt he was being lead through the kiss. Their lips moved against his, and once he closed his eyes, he found he couldn't tell if it was Whiro or Jongho kissing him when the two had begun to switch off every now and again. 

A shadow wrapped around his hip, pulling him closer until Jongho wrapped a strong arm around his midsection, pulling him into the shower and pressing him against the wall under the overhead spray. 

Seonghwa cracked his eyes open, staring through a half lidded smolder. He was met one deep crimson eye and one dark brown one staring back at him, two toned silken locks clinging to Jongho/Whiro's body. 

"You two weren't kidding about sharing, huh? How long has it been since I've seen this?" Seonghwa spoke softly, a cool hand coming up to touch what was now Whiro's cheek as he kissed under Jongho's eye. 

"We'll take care of you. Don't worry ‘bout it." 

Seonghwa smiled softly and let the two pamper him, relaxing and giving himself up to them. 

For a little while, he’d just let his mind shut off. 

“Seonghwa, do you want to tell us what happened to cause these?” Jongho touched the purple splotches littering Seonghwa’s body, frowning at the wounds the ex-prince had been hiding underneath his clothes. 

“Training,” Seonghwa answered, cringing slightly as Jongho’s fingers brushed over some of them. He hissed slightly before avoiding the sharp gaze the Maori man (and Whiro) fixed him with. 

“Who did this to you?” Both of them growled out. Seonghwa shook his head and laced his fingers with theirs. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me? If that’s your intention, how about you make me forget instead?”

The two of them leveled him with a stare before they moved in for a kiss. 

“Consider it done.”

Down in the kitchen, Yeosang stirred his pot with a conflicted look on his face. 

Everything around him seemed to be caving in on itself and he still felt they were leagues away from actually being ‘on the same page’. And he’d hurt one of the loves of his life.

How much longer was he going to be a useless backdrop while everything happened around him? If he stood aside and let the others do all the heavy lifting, he was nothing but a bystander.

He should know, more than anyone, the harm that causes.

The kitsune grit his teeth and set the handle to his spoon on fire.

“Y-Yeosang?!” Mingi’s voice made him focus and he put the fire out in an instant. 

“Sorry, I just…” He let out a frustrated sigh and took the apron off, tossing it aside.

“Mingi, most of it is ready, you only need to stirr it in ten minutes and then let it simmer for another five and then you can all eat. Don’t wait for me.” 

He spoke with an authority they weren’t used to as he made his way upstairs. 

He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he had to do something. Had to say something. Seonghwa was doing it again, taking so much on his plate in order to take the chaos off of the others.

But he wasn’t making it any better, putting him on the spot, lashing out at him…it broke Yeosang’s heart watching those icy walls go up. 

‘Communication, Yeosang. By the gods, talk to each other’ 

How much longer was he going to sit on the sidelines passively, hoping a ‘positive attitude’ and his cooking would continue to put bandaids on the problem?

Gods, he could hear his sister laughing at him in back of his mind. 

“Look at you, a big crybaby with no backbone. This kingdom can’t be led with anyone like you.”

The kitsune marched directly up to the bathroom, opening the door abruptly and coming face to face with Seonghwa covering his mouth, stifling noises as Jongho and Whiro washed him probably a lot more thoroughly for it to be considered ‘innocent’. 

“Gods above and fucking below-What is it?” Whiro grunted, barely hiding his annoyance. Jongho was a lot more understanding, turning his head towards Yeosang. 

“What’s wrong? Do you need us?”

Seonghwa seemed to have been sobered out of his daze, body tensing despite the swearing from Whiro at the immediate reversal of what he and Jongho had tried to do. 

“I…” Yeosang’s ears got hot as he stared, losing track of what it was he exactly wanted to articulate. Whiro noticed and rolled his eye, picking Seonghwa up unceremoniously. 

“Fuck’s sake, Foxy. If you’re gonna interrupt when someone’s in the middle of somethin’, at least have your shit together. Come on.” he stopped in front of Yeosang and tossed him over Jongho’s other shoulder. 

He carried the two ex princes unceremoniously down the hall to his room and opened the door with a shadow, dropping them both to the bed. 

Both Seonghwa and Yeosang bounced and Yeosang opened his mouth to let out a flustered serious of noises before he caught sight of purple splotches all over Seonghwa’s body and slowly-healing wounds. 

“My gods they’re worse than I thought-”

Seonghwa looked at them before looking away. 

“They’re from training, I’ll heal back up. Really, it’s not that bad.”

“What the hell training are you doing that you haven’t healed up the next day? You heal faster than I do; if it were a simple cut, they’d be gone. Who did this to you?” He panicked, looking at the splotches. Seonghwa glanced away. 

It’d cause a lot of trouble if he said he’d been poisoned by Hongjoong’s brother, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want anyone getting mad at Yuta. As much of a little shit as he may have been, he still only fought Seonghwa at his request. 

“I’ll be alright, please do not worry. These are just healing slower.”

Yeosang cupped his face and forced their foreheads together, staring into his eyes. 

“Why won’t you lean on us? Why do you keep putting yourself through hell alone?” 

Seonghwa’s eyes widened before he sighed. 

“Yeosang-”

“I hate to interrupt, I really do, but Whiro and I were trying to get his mind off of things and I don’t want things to spiral back into that right now.” Jongho cut in, moving to grab some bandages and salves from his dresser. Geb and Yunho had made sure every room in the house had it stocked. 

It was polite, but the message was clear; 

Get out if you’re going to upset him again.

Yeosang looked at Seonghwa and pressed his lips into a line. 

“Give me the salve, I’ll help.”

Seonghwa blinked in surprise as Yeosang began gently rubbing the salve onto various parts of his body, his concern shining on his face. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.” Yeosang muttered, hand shaking as he looked at the wounds. 

Now that he was focusing, they were slashes caused by some sort of blade…the edges of the torn skin were glowing faintly, and Yeosang worried his lip between his teeth. 

“I…I’m sorry…I lashed out at you and that was not…even remotely appropriate.” He spoke softly. Seonghwa’s shoulders lost a bit of their tension and he hummed, only hissing slightly at the sting of the salve.

“I understand. I’m sorry for worrying you.” He hummed. Yeosang pressed his lips into a line, eyes bouncing from wound to wound.

Who the fuck did this? Who the hell had….what he assumed was poison strong enough to slow down an immortal’s healing? Seonghwa’s healing was a league of its own, coming only after Yunho, Jongho, and their Captain. 

“Raise your head, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa tilted his head back and let out a muffled noise of surprise when Jongho cupped his face, kissing him deep and slow. Yeosang’s ears twitched, glancing up a the men kissing above his head. Jongho held him firmly, tilting his head once and keeping Seonghwa locked in the intimate kiss without pause.

He could smell the way Seonghwa’s scent changed, sweetening subtly as he leaned into it a few moments after realizing Jongho was not giving him a mere peck.

Yearning. Need.

Yeosang liked this a lot more than the wilted scent that had clung to Seonghwa as of late. He’d…figure out what to do later in regards to easing the conflict in his partner’s heart. For now, he shifted his focus, wanting to match Jongho and Whiro’s energy when it came to distracting the blonde from his troubles, even if for a few moments.

His tails appeared and he curled one against Jongho’s waist, pulling him close before he leaned over to one of the gashes, pressing a warm kiss to Seonghwa’s chest. 

Each kiss left a lingering warm tingle to the ice prince’s body and he arched into both kisses, droplets of water rolling down his body. 

“S’pose we should dry him before moving on, hm?” Whiro reminded them, smiling devilishly at the dazed and needy look that had once again graced Seonghwa’s face. 

Yeosang waited until the Maori men moved away from Seonghwa’s lips before he leaned up, cupping his face and kissing him breathless, pushing him onto his back.

“Yeosa-mmff-” Seonghwa groaned, his hair clinging to his forehead and his neck as Yeosang poured all of his emotion into the kiss, tails stroking his arms, abdomen, and legs, leaving feather-like trails of warmth in their wake. 

“H-Hold on, wait-” Seonghwa blushed, cheeks ignting as he broke the kiss. Yeosang panted, holding his gaze, worry shining in his expression. 

“Did I hurt you?”

Seonghwa laughed gently, an alluring and sticky-sweet scent drifting off of him. 

“N-No.”

Yeosang tilted his head before a shadow worked its way between them, lifting him enough to get Seonghwa back in a sitting positon. 

“If that’s the mood you’re in, I’m happy to oblige. Let’s get you wrapped up, first.” Jongho’s voice cut in. Yeosang glanced down, his cheeks going beet red when he noticed Seonghwa had gotten aroused from the touches and kisses. 

“You don’t have to-”

“We want to, pretty boy. Trust me.”

Seonghwa’s lips parted in surprise before he looked down at Yeosang, a rare embarrassed expression crossing his face. Yeosang grabbed the bandages and began patching Seonghwa up, leaving kisses after each one. 

“I want to, as well. If you’ll have me.”

Jongho smiled and put his head on Yeosang’s shoulder.

“Now we’re on the same page.”

It took minutes before Seonghwa was splayed across Jongho’s lap, his chest rising and falling quickly as Jongho’s shadows stroked and caressed along his skin, tugging gently to leave him spread open for Yeosang to kiss and caress down his body. 

“Y-You don’t have to be so ge-gentle with me.”

“Really? Because you’re enjoying it just fine.” Whiro taunted, rising off of Jongho’s arms, taking his spot beside Yeosang between Seonghwa’s legs, kissing and biting at his thighs. 

Seonghwa let out a startled gasp before feeling Jongho’s fingers turn his head to kiss him, pressing flush against his back. 

“It’s okay. We got you.” Jongho muttered between his lips. Seonghwa whimpered before his hips jerked upwards, engulfed by the soft warmth of Yeosang’s mouth. 

Yeosang’s tails swayed and wagged gently, brushing along all three of the men. He kept his eyes up on Seonghwa, crimson eyes gleaming as he studied Seonghwa’s face. 

How long had it been since he’d seen this look?

The one the ex prince and First Mate wore well. The utterly ruined yet sultry expression that fit so well. His eyes rolling back, brows pinched together, tongue flicking out of his mouth-

Jongho reached around and tapped two of his fingers against Seonghwa’s lips, smiling in approval from behind him and kissing his shoulder as Seonghwa closed his lips around his fingers, licking and sucking as he spread his legs wider.

‘Gorgeous….’ Yeosang mused, swallowing around Seonghwa as he stared lovingly at the two. Whiro shifted from beside him, trailing rough fingers through his silken fur before he grabbed the base of them.

Yeosang jerked, nearly choking on Seonghwa’s cock as the deity turned his attention to him. 

“Stay focused, Foxy. Look at how good you’re doing.”

Yeosang shivered, feeling Whiro’s big hand tangle into his hair, guiding him up and down on Seonghwa’s length while holding him at an angle where he could see both Jongho and Seonghwa peering down at him. 

Yeosang felt himself throbbing before he moaned, sinking deeper and keening when he felt the head of Seonghwa’s cock brush against the back of his throat. 

“F-Fuhhh-”Seonghwa whimpered, drooling around Jongho’s fingers as he twitched. The shadows tightened around his thighs slightly before Whiro smirked, holding his head down for a few moments as he casually spoke to their blonde lover. 

“You’re making a mess, pretty boy. Been that long since you had something occupy your mouth?”

Seonghwa shuddered, body hyper sensitive. 

Gods, how long had it been?

“That’s not good. Knowing you, you haven’t even touched yourself, either?” Jongho sighed softly, biting and suckling his shoulder until a splotchy mark was left on the side of his neck. 

“H-Hadn’t crossed..nn..my mind. Been…occupied-”

“And that’s enough of that for now.” Jongho cut him off, using his free hand to come around and tease his nipple, making eye contact with Whiro across from then and tilting his head towards Yeosang.

Being connected like this had its perks and one of them was that they didn’t have to share their thoughts verbally. 

Yeosang hadn’t even realized Whiro’s hand was out of his hair until it returned to his tails, pushing them up and out of the way as he kissed and bit along the curve of his ass cheek.

Yeosang gasped and jerked, feeling those shadows tug his knees apart so he had better access. 

He glanced back at him, flushed and embarassed when the god spread him wide without hesitation. 

“Don’t worry about me, Darling. I’m just having breakfast. You focus on making our favorite blondie feel good.”

Yeosang’s tails flexed and trembled before curling around the three men in some way, shape, or form as Whiro’s tongue delved into him. 

Seonghwa cupped his jaw, sending him an adoring gaze as he moved his thumb lower, brushing his fingers over the slight bulge of Yeosang’s throat. 

“My darling fox. N-Ngh, thank you so much.” He praised him softly, thighs twitching and flexing in the shadows’ grip. Jongho smiled and moved his lips to his ear. 

“Your drooling all over yourself, Hwa.”

Seonghwa glanced over at him out of the corner of his eye, his teeth grazing along his fingers before sucking suggestively, curling his tongue around the calloused digits before sticking his tongue out between them, letting a bead of his saliva fall between them. 

Jongho narrowed his gaze at him, throbbing at the display. 

“I’m supposed to be gentle with you this morning, don’t make this harder on me.” 

Seonghwa’s lips quirked, challenging him with a subtle cock to his head. 

“I’m in your care.”

Yeosang’s voice drew their attention back between Seonghwa’s legs as he arched his back and let out a loud moan, trembling as Whiro’s tongue curled deep inside of him. 

‘Almost forgot how cute this one sounds’ Whiro’s voice echoed in Jongho’s head and he smiled, watching Yeosang’s eyes shine brighter, his tails twitching and wagging, going back and forth between clinging to them and jerking with each breathy and muffled gag and moan that came from his muffled lips.

“C-Close, hold on-” Seonghwa moved to reach for Yeosang’s head, trying to pull his hips back in a feeble attempt to still him so he didn’t cum down his throat. 

Two of Yeosang’s tails flew up the moment he did, grabbing his wrist and keeping him from stopping him as he looked up at him once more, holding his gaze as he sped his head up. 

“He’s doing his best to make you feel good, Seonghwa. You don’t have to hold back right now.” Jongho coaxed him, reaching down and cupping his balls, speaking into his ear once more. 

“Look at how desperate he looks, are you really going to keep it from him?” 

Seonghwa arched, body shuddering. Whiro rumbled from behind Yeosang, pulling away from the mess he’d made of his ass to lean over him, partially pinning him in place and grinning wildly up at Seonghwa as he took one of the kitsune’s ears between his teeth. 

“Don’t waste a drop, Foxy.”

Yeosang arched and swallowed hard the moment he felt Whiro’s canines clamp down on his fluffy ear. Everything was dizzying for the kitsune, the scent of arousal, need , and desperation along with everyone’s voices was driving him mad. 

Did none of them think about his poor heart? He could smell and hear everything tenfold because of what he was. 

If the deep, growling chuckle coming from the god currently pressing his cock against his ass as he suggestively caressed his throat where Seonghwa had made him bulge was anything to go by, he was sure they all knew exactly what the hell they were doing to him. 

The moment Yeosang and Seonghwa locked eyes again, the older of the two ex princes cried out in delight, arching his back as much as he could in Jongho’s strong grip, thick, sweet ropes of cum coating Yeosang’s throat. 

The smaller man let out a muffled moan, cumming messily onto the sheets below. Yeosang mewled, eyes fluttering momentarily as he swallowed each drop eagerly. It took a colossal effort for him to keep them open, but he wanted to drink in every expression on Seonghwa’s face. 

He slowly pulled off with a wet pop when he was sure Seonghwa had finished his first orgasm. 

The blonde sat there in a daze, panting with his legs spread wide by the shadows. Jongho kissed his shoulder, tracing patterns and symbols on his abs as he throbbed against the small of Seonghwa’s back. 

“Did that feel good? Your voice cracked for a moment.” He rumbled, leaving a biting kiss on the top of his shoulder. Seonghwa groaned and looked behind him. 

“You haven’t came yet. Don’t stop. Please,”

“We’re not done, Hwa. Far from it.”

While the two spoke and changed positions so Jongho could stretch him properly after getting lube, Yeosang felt a firm grip turn his head. 

He found himself staring deep into Whiro’s crimson eyes, and his breath caught for a moment. 

“Now, what’s a position fitting enough for the cute little cook that keeps all of us nice and fed mm?”

Yeosang shuddered and scanned his expression, lips parting before he closed them, shyness overtaking him. 

“Oh no no. You’re gonna tell me. Go on, tell me how you want it. I’ll do it, Yeosang.”

Yeosang would later reflect and curse himself at the way he’d gasped at Whiro calling his name. His eyes widened for a moment before he bit his lip and leaned close to his ear, shakily whispering to the god. 

In hindsight, he wasn’t sure why. The only one who couldn’t hear him would be Seonghwa. 

He was preoccupied with other matters, though, his cheeks going bright red when Whiro easily picked him up, setting him on top of Seonghwa with his knees at either side of Jongho’s hips.

The first thing both men realized with the new position was the temperature . 

Due to the nature of their powers, Seonghwa's skin and tongue always ran cold, while Yeosang was opposite of him. Both of them being chest to chest like this created an immediate back and forth between their body temperatures that made both of them writhe. 

Said writhing lead to both of their cocks rutting against one another. 

Both of them jolted again before Seonghwa reached out and grabbed Yeosang’s face, kissing him sloppily. Yeosang could tell he’d chilled his tongue on purpose and he responded in kind, raising the temperature of his own tongue slightly as he humped the older immortal. 

“Can’t have you forgettin’ about us, can we?” Whiro’s deep growling voice made Yeosang’s ear flick backwards, though he found himself unable to break the kiss. Instead, he subtly spread his knees wider, lifting his hips and raising his tails to present himself to the fractored deity. 

If the growl he was met with was anything to go by, his display was well appreciated. 

‘I’m going to fucking ruin him’ The god growled, still taking care to make sure he was properly lubricated. Jongho watched the two kiss on top of him and guided his own cock to Seonghwa’s prepped entrance, meeting Whiro’s gaze over both of their shoulders. 

There was a mutual understanding as they pushed into their respective princes at the same time. 

Yeosang groaned, nearly breaking the kiss if Seonghwa didn’t cup his cheeks, kissing him with renewed fervor as he clenched around Jongho’s cock. His eyes fluttered as each piercing rubbed against his rim before massaging along his walls once the ex gunner was fully settled inside. The kitsune rutting against him was equally delighted by the additional pleasure the piercings caused as Whiro’s cock mirrored Jongho’s, throbbing inside of Yeosang as he bit down on his ear again. 

“N-Ngh! S-Stop biting them, they’re sensitive-”

“That’s exactly why I’m gonna continue. Especially when you sound like that afterwards.” Whiro teased against the fur, grinding deep into him as he gripped the base of his tails. 

Yeosang’s eyes widened and he bucked, his cock drooling messily against Seonghwa’s as he swore in a different tongue. 

Jongho, on the other hand, reached around to hug Seonghwa’s midsection, keeping him from moving too much and possibly sliding his cock out. 

“You’re clenching me s-so tight. Mmm…fuck, I’m not going anywhere, Seonghwa, don’t worry. I’m right here.” He coaxed the ex prince into relaxing with his honeyed words, his hands roaming, calloused fingers mapping out Seonghwa’s body like it was the first time. 

Seonghwa finally broke the kiss, reaching behind Yeosang and fisting a handful of Whiro’s blonde locks, yanking him down roughly to kiss him as feverishly. 

Yeosang squirmed, effectively pinned between the god and the First Mate. His ears flicked, hearing every growl and groan directly beside his head as Seonghwa and Whiro bit and kissed at each other. 

“Y-Yeosangie~ Mmm-”

Jongho’s voice drew his attention and he looked down, finding the man had raised his chin, staring adoringly at him as he subtly puckered his lips. 

Yeosang didn’t hesitate, maneuvering around and eventually settling for pushing Seonghwa’s thighs up and folding him with his weight as he sought out Jongho’s lips.

Seonghwa’s moans rose an octave at the stretch, though his body was flexible enough to accommodate the new position, his heart pounding and his cock throbbing as he broke the kiss for air. 

Whiro growled, wrapping shadows around Seonghwa and Yeosang’s cocks, keeping them trapped together as he stroked them in time with his thrusts that began to steadily increase in speed until he was pounding the kitsune into the First Mate. 

“Yes! Yes yes please right there yES! ” Seonghwa had nearly began crying below them, his face screwed up in pleasure as different languages tumbled from his lips. Yeosang matched him, arching his back when he felt the shadows stroke them both faster. 

“L-Look at you two,” Jongho grit out, his grip on Seonghwa locking the taller man in place as he thrusted deeper and harder into him, searching for that sweet spot inside of him. 

“Pretty fuckin’ sight, yeah? Two pretty Princes moaning and makin’ a mess out of each other. And we get to see it from both sides~” Whiro’s voice was a deep, near feral purr as he tugged at the base of Yeosang’s tails, striking his prostate with one of his powerful thrusts. 

In an instant, Yeosang felt his vision go nearly white, arching his back sharply as a LOUD cry spilled from his lips, followed by him cumming all over himself, Seonghwa, and the shadows that kept their cocks together. 

Seonghwa’s eyes rolled, and he nearly arched and squirmed out of Jongho’s lap, had it not have been for the way the younger man tightened his grip, keeping him still as he rocked into him. 

“Don’t go anywhere, nn..right there, stay right there please please-”It wasn’t nearly as loud as the two (even three, Whiro was rather vocal with his growled out groans), but Jongho’s heated begging had shined through. Seonghwa’s hips bucked, thrusting against Yeosang’s as he clamped down on Jongho. 

“G-Give it to me, I’m here I won’t waste a drop c-cmon-” Seonghwa began babbling in his lust-drunk daze, grabbing Yeosang’s ass and keeping his cheeks spread for Whiro to see his own cock sliding in and out of the younger prince before he felt heat flood into him. 

Jongho bit down on his shoulder, eyes rolling as he came, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he felt it wash over him. 

Yeosang glanced down, watching the mess begin to coat Jongho’s cock. Whiro pressed against his back, the growl that left his lips vibrating through Yeosang’s very being as he chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, Foxy. I got somethin’ for you, too.”

Yeosang made the mistake of nearly questioning the got before he felt his prostate getting struck full force. He choked on his own breath for a moment, arching his back and crying out as Whiro looped his arms through Yeosang’s pulling them behind his back so he was arched and on display for Seonghwa and Jongho to see. 

Yeosang noticed this face and whimpered, his ass bouncing with every powerful thrust, unable to keep his eyes open as Whiro rocked up into him. 

“That’s it~ Mmm, such a pretty little fox for us, look at them, they’re practically drooling over themselves for ya~”

Yeosang still couldn’t open his eyes, drowning in the pleasure of each calculated thrust before he felt heat flood into him. His tails tensed, and he nearly passed out from the second sudden orgasm that slammed into him. 

It took a few moments…minutes…? For him to realize he had passed out momentarily from the pleasure. When he was able to focus again, he found Seonghwa was caressing his face lovingly, smiling at him. Yeosang stared up at him, panting as he cupped his hands over Seonghwa’s to keep him flush against him. 

“I love you.”

Seonghwa’s gaze softened and he leaned down to kiss him softly. 

“I love you too. Can you move or do you need a moment?”

Yeosang rose his head in confusion. 

“A moment?”

A slow, seductive smile crossed his face. 

“Darling, we’re not done.”

Downstairs, Yunho glanced up from his bowl, cheeks beet red. 

“Should I bring them some water…?” He muttered. Geb rumbled inside of him, considering making them some cucumber water or-

“We should let them have this time to themselves,” San spoke, washing his dishes. Wooyoung stood beside him drying them while Mingi ate quietly at Yunho’s side, eyes fixed on his plate, pushing around a piece of food. 

“You’re right.”/ ”We will need to see Seonghwa afterward, though. He may be convinced he will just power through, but I am concerned over the potency of the poison in his body.” 

The other three men in the room froze, eyes widening. 

“The what? ”

Upstairs, Seonghwa kissed the space between Yeosang’s shoulder blades as he held his hips, grinding deep into him at a near methodically slow pace. 

Jongho caressed the Kitsune’s face, his gaze soft and loving as he guided his head up and down his shaft, making sure he didn’t choke between his muffled moans. 

Whiro wasn’t too far off, claiming Seonghwa’s lips in a demanding kiss that made him lose his tempo several times before he’d reaffirmed his grip and continued. 

It had been…many moons since Seonghwa had been intimate with any of the loves of his life and Yeosang was quickly remembering that the taller prince was quite insatiable when he slipped into the waves of passion. 

Every mood was calculated, and every motion Seonghwa made when he was like this felt like a master chess move. 

He knew all of their limits and stamina, knew who could match his energy, who could surpass it, who may fall behind. Everything he did, it was to maximize their time together and leave them satisfied and honestly? Craving more. 

“Where is your mind, my love?” the chill of his breath fanned over Yeosang’s ear and he bucked, swallowing around Jongho in surprise. When had he and Whiro stopped kissing?

 Seonghwa chuckled, cold fingers roaming his body. 

“I can feel you tightening up, why don’t you let go for me? For us? We got you.” 

Yeosang had half a mind to remind the blonde that they were supposed to be doting on him , but all that came out was a pathetic whimper in need as he once again fell apart, sending a pleading look at Jongho that made him follow suit. 

Yeosang would be flustered to admit later that he’d lost track of how many different positions they’d shifted in and moved to before all three (or, rather, four) of them were satiated enough to collapse in a pile in the center of the bed. 

Yeosang panted, his hair unkempt, and bites covering his body. As he turned his ruby-eyed gaze to Seonghwa, he smiled, finding the man had actually been properly tired out and also was covered in the same bites (and scratches). 

Jongho ran a hand through his hair, looking at the two ex princes with a gentle look. He didn’t verbalize what was on his mind but Yeosang noticed the serious settle in his features as he idly ran his hand through both of their hair. 

Whiro returned to his skin, only after placing surprisingly tender kisses to each of them and holding a stare with them that was rife with words unsaid before he settled along their ex gunner’s skin. 

I love you

They knew the words well, even if the god hadn’t uttered it. It was in his eyes, it was in Jongho’s eyes as he continued to stare at them before he rolled his neck. 

“I should get Yunho and Geb in here. Have them get that poison out of your system.” He looked like he didn’t actually want to get up but he still did, stopping only when Seonghwa reached out to him. 

“Please….have him leave the marks be.” 

Jongho’s lips quirked for a moment. 

“I wouldn’t dream of telling him to get rid of them. If they’re healed in the process, We’ll just have to give you some more of them.” 

Seonghwa blushed before letting him go, closing his eyes and letting his eyes close. 

“Very well. Thank you.”

He left the two prince’s in the room to fetch the doctor. Yeosang gently rolled over, running his hand through Seonghwa’s damp hair and watching as he took a moment to open his eyes again, exhaustion clear on his features now that he wasn’t putting on the front of ‘everything being fine.’

“...I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to…be helpful. To try and walk beside you instead of behind you.”

Seonghwa’s tired expression began to sharpen, and he lifted his head. 

“Yeosang-”

“I won’t be walking behind any of you anymore. I swear.” Yeosang laced their fingers together and gave his hand a squeeze. 

“Standing on the sidelines being passive is everything I hated one of my sisters for. I…have done no better than her in that right. I will work harder to never, ever be that man again. So…let me take some of the burden, okay?” He gently caressed his knuckles. 

Seonghwa’s gaze softened, brows pulling up. 

“That goes the same for us.”

Seonghwa turned his gaze to the doorway, finding Yunho walking in quickly with Jongho in tow. Seonghwa moved to push himself out of bed, but Yunho placed his hand on his chest and pushed him back down, shaking his head. 

“Stay there. We’ll get the poison out of your system and heal the wounds your body has been trying to close.”

Seonghwa laid back down, watching as Yunho took a pair of bandage scissors to the wraps around his midsection, narrowing his gaze at the wounds. 

There was an unfamiliar noise that left the man’s lips has he stared at the wounds. He summoned a gerbera daisy and let it over over the wounds, his eyes trained on each one as the magic coming from the flower drew the poison out of each gash. 

They all watched as droplets of purple absorbed into the petals of the daisy. 

“It’s a poison that continues attacking. It’s no wonder your healing is slowed. It’s trying to attack even us through the flower.” Geb rumbled, looking over a the wilting petals of the daisy with a narrowed gaze. Seonghwa’s brows rose in surprise before he looked away from him the moment both the earth god and Yunho fixed im with a stern gaze. 

“When we find out who poisoned you-”

“That won’t be necessary, puppy. Truly.”

Yunho looked unsatisfied, lips pressed into a fine line as he stared at Seonghwa, drawing the last of the poison out and setting the daisy aside. 

He cupped Seonghwa’s cheeks and sighed, pressing their foreheads together. 

“You’re still doing things all on your own, you know.”

He lightly scolded him, though nothing but concern shone in his eyes for the blonde before him. Seonghwa stared back at him, his thumbs gently rubbing patterns in the blanket below him. He wouldn’t bother wasting his breath denying it, especially when they all knew it was true. 

Yunho heard Geb rumble in concern inside of his head and he sighed softly, pulling away from the blonde. 

“Seonghwa, I owe you an apology.”

Seonghwa’s brows furrowed. 

“Seriously, you all do not need to keep apologizing-”

“I told you you weren’t working hard enough and suddenly you’re out here doing reckless things, getting hurt all alone , keeping yourself awake for ungodly hours of time, all in the sake of ‘trying harder’, aren’t you? Is that not a direct result of me unfairly forcing my own inadequacies on you instead of acknowledging we all failed and we all need to try harder? Be better? I fucked up, and I’m sorry.” he pressed a kiss to Seonghwa’s head before pulling away, rubbing his thumbs over the man’s cheeks.

“We can…sit down and hash it all out a bit later. For now, you need rest. Between the poison and….your activities this morning, I imagine you’re exhausted, right?”

Seonghwa flexed his fingers, looking at his compass mark for a moment before he nodded, laying down and pressing his cheek to the pillow. 

“Then…if its all the same to you…I’ll rest a bit more. If you need me, please wake me.” He muttered, letting the threads of exhaustion and sleep finally lace into a net, pulling him into sleep not too longer after Yunho nodded at him with a tender smile. 

Once he was sure Seonghwa was asleep, his smile fell and he turned to the others. 

Yeosang looked equally exhausted, but he perked when he saw the frown cross his lover’s face. Jongho was alert and standing not too far off from the bed, a pair of sweatpants settled loose on his hips as he watched the three of them. 

“You all can rest. I…I’ll work on a plan-”

“Nah. How about we wait until we’re all up and about and make a proper plan of action this time?” Jongho and Whiro cut him off bluntly, finger tapping against one of Jongho’s biceps after he crossed his arms. 

Yunho paused for a moment before he looked down at the exhausted blonde sleeping soundly, his brow occasionally twitching every now and again. 

“....Yeah. Actually, that sounds like a better plan. I’ll leave you two to rest, as well. Do either of you want any food?” 

While the three of them chattered, San made his way down the hall in the opposite direction, slipping into Seonghwa’s room and glancing around. 

He probably should wait until the blonde was up and about to do all of this, but San knew the ex prince well enough to know they would continue to dance around everything if he did so. 

San tried not to make it a habit to revert back to his old behaviors from centuries ago when his street smarts and quick hands could get him into whatever locked box or door he needed them to.

Tried to , did not mean he was above doing so. 

San scanned the room carefully before he found a box with a few papers sticking out from it. He made his way over to it, scanning the contents inside before humming and grabbing the papers, laying them out and reading through them. 

His lips pressed into a fine line the more he read before his eyes widened. 

He glanced behind him at the door as if he could peer through it before having a seat at Seonghwa’s desk, reading everything with increasing amounts of worry settling in his being. 

Outside, Mingi passed by the First Mate’s door, casting a sidelong stare at it. Cheese perked, sniffing once, twice, before wagging his tail, seemingly unbothered. 

Mingi, however, stared at the handle for a long time before he let out the smallest scoff and continued his way down the hall. 

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2:30 pm

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“Can…I ask your advice on something?” 

Miyavi looked up, stopping mid guitar pluck to look at Hongjoong as he stood in the doorway to his and his wife’s room. 

He sat up in an instant, setting the guitar aside and nodding. 

“Of course, little one. C’mere. What’s up?”

Hongjoong plopped down across the foot of the bed, his legs dangling over the edge as he stared at the ceiling. Miyavi looked at him curiously, waiting for his son to gather his thoughts. 

“I…I’m confused.”

“Okay, about what?” 

Hongjoong paused again, worrying his lip between his teeth. He wanted to blurt out to his father that he’d been having dreams that feel like memories, about the fact that he’d seen at least two men with some form of supernatural powers, gods are real and one of them is inside of his boyfriend and-

-instead, something else tumbled from his lips. 

“I only just started dating Yunho but I also feel an attraction towards some of the others.”

Miyavi blinked. Hongjoong blinked. 

It took everything in him not to facepalm. 

“...It must be overwhelming, yeah? All of these new emotions so suddenly.”

Miyavi hummed quietly, reaching over to ruffle his son’s two toned hair. Hongjoong let him, nodding quietly. 

“I…don’t know what to do…”

“What does your heart want?”

“Yunho’s the only boyfriend…the only partner I’ve ever had. I can’t just go ‘hey, we’ve been dating for about a week but your boyfriends look fine too’, y’know? That’s just…”

Miyavi laughed, smiling down at his son and tilting his head. 

“So be honest with Yunho, but also take your time. You know where your heart is tugging you, but you’ve got a good enough head on your shoulders to know that Rome wasn’t built in a day. It takes time. But the first step is to make sure you’re clear and on equal footing and understanding. Misunderstandings and secrets are the downfall to any relationship.” He pressed his index finger lightly to Hongjoong’s forehead until the younger musician met his gaze, nodding with a small sigh.

“You’re right…”

“Yunho looks like an approachable man, just be honest with him and reassure him your gaze isn’t wandering…it’s simply…mm…expanding? Yes, that makes sense.” He chuckled having paused to find the words for his analogy.

Hongjoong laughed lightly before he looked at him. 

“You….don’t think it’s weird?”

“Polyamory? Not at all. I just care first and foremost that you are safe and happy . You’re my son, I’d give my world to make sure you and your siblings are smiling and happy. I’ll be with you every step of the way to make sure that happens.” He smiled and watched as Hongjoong sat up, fixing his hair before a bit of the tension he was holding in his body was lessened. 

“I….I have more I’d like to talk about but I….don’t know how to word it yet. It kind of makes my head hurt when I think about it.” Hongjoong rubbed his neck. 

It wasn’t a complete lie, but still. 

Miyavi watched him silently. He had a good hunch on what it was, but that would be a far more treacherous conversation to wade into than relationship advice on rekindled feelings. 

“Whenever you’re ready, your mother and I are here to listen. Just let us know.” Miyavi stood and rolled his shoulder before setting his guitar back in its case. 

“C’mon, let’s head out for a walk, it’s a beautiful day out.”

Hongjoong glanced outside, blinking in surprise at the sunshine that had begun to peek through the clouds. He could’ve sworn the forecast said it was supposed to be overcast all day. He stood and nodded, smiling at his father as they made their way to the door. 

“Let me get my shoes, then!” Hongjoong darted out and Miyavi laughed, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

“Slow down, we have time.”

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April 3rd

5:30am

-218 Days Remain-

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Seonghwa sat up, rubbing his neck and sighing. Today was the day. The scent of cinnamon off to his left nearly distracted him from his thoughts.

He had to go train with Jaemin and see if he could come up with a method to-

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes snapped to the corner of the room, landing on San as he smiled from ear to ear, his eyes crescents. 

“San…?”

“Good morning, handsome. Slept well?” 

Seonghwa’s brows furrowed as he looked to the man sitting at his desk, a bright smile on his face. 

“What…?”

San held up the papers, head tilting. 

“Planning to go train all on your lonesome today, hm? Do you even know what today is?” He inquired. Seonghwa’s lips pressed together, racking his brain. 

It didn’t bother him that the younger man had gone through his papers nearly as much as it did that he had missed something important. 

April, it was April, he’d been in his own head so much, had he missed someone’s anniversary or-

“CHEESE CANNOT WAIT ANY LONGER. HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAPTIAN PRINCE SEONGHWA MASTER SIR!!!!! CHEESE HAS COME WITH GIFTS!”

Seonghwa had a sense of dejavu as Cheese threw himself onto his bed once more, landing on his chest. A muffled groan came from his left and Seonghwa finally clued in to the others in the room. 

Yeosang was beside him, ears twitching as he rubbed his eye. The groan came from his left, as Yunho lifted his head, squinting into the room at the excited dog. 

“Cheese, its so early….”

“Why is everyone in my room?” Seonghwa inquired, sitting up more and spotting Wooyoung curled up in Yeosang’s arms, still asleep. 

“To make sure you don’t try and do something silly like go off fighting whoever it is you’re fighting on your birthday .” San set the papers down and sighed, leaning on the table.

“I’m sorry for snooping, but I don’t…like seeing you with these dark circles and slumping from exhaustion. You’re…working really hard, aren’t you? At least for a day, let’s all take some time and decompress. We can talk about your findings and train together, I’m still pissed I got my ass kicked so easily…but above all else, we need to do better to take care of each other.” He tapped his finger against the table and smiled at Seonghwa. 

“So, will you join us for the totally not at all planned birthday celebration?” 

Seonghwa laughed softly, petting Cheese and nodded. 

“Where’s Jongho and…?”He trailed off, leaving the tail end of his inquiry open ended. San’s smile faltered slightly, brow ticking in subtle annoyance before the look cleared up. 

Seonghwa caught it.

Ah, Mingi probably didn’t want to share a room with them, so Jongho stayed with him so he wouldn’t be alone.

He sighed, shoulders dropping before he was immediately distracted by Cheese thrusting his snout in his face.

“CHEESE HAS TRAVELED OVERNIGHT TO GET THIS.”  

Seonghwa tilted his head and watched as Cheese nudged his palm open. Once Seonghwa obliged him, he dropped a spear-tip shaped piece of ice into it, tail wagging. 

The ex prince cocked his head, looking at it in wonder. 

“There’s some kind of…power surging through this. What is this, Cheese?”

“CHEESE TOOK A TRIP TO THE LAND OF FROST GIANTS AND ASKED LADY SKADI IF CHEESE MAY HAVE SOME ICE! Cheese is friends with Kaldr so she said yes. She is a very nice lady.”

“I’m sorry, did you say the land of the frost gi-”

“ HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Seonghwa stared at the dog, aghast. He really needed to keep track of him when he went running off. In the meantime, he looked down at the shard, rolling it around in his palm. 

“....thank you, Cheese. You’re a very good boy.”

Cheese’s tail stopped wagging in an instant and he stared at Seonghwa for a while before pressing his head to Seonghwa’s. 

“Cheese…is not the smartest Cheese, but Cheese loves his masters very much and will do anything to make them happy. Happy birthday!”

Seonghwa laughed softly and made room for the dog to lie down on his chest. 

“Fine…if you insist, I’ll take the day off. We should sleep in.” He nuzzled the canine and San smiled, moving to lie beside Yunho. 

“That’s a lot more like it.”

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    10:30am

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“You look handsome.”

Seonghwa smiled softly, looking at himself in the mirror. Yunho, San, and Wooyoung had bought him a new outfit. 

Wooyoung adjusted the black turtleneck on the taller man, brushing his fingertips over Seonghwa’s jawline. There was a matching black thigh-length pea coat that was left open. His pants were form fitting-also black-, with shimmering chains dangling from his belt hoops and pockets. 

“You look like a model.” San nodded in approval and Yunho held his hand out, creating an ice blue flower to tuck into his chest pocket. 

Seonghwa smoothed his hands over the clothing, smiling. San had styled his hair, brushing his bangs out of his face before smiling and pointing to the seat. 

“Yeosang said he’d do your makeup, then we can get going.”

The blonde would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good, to be doted on by everyone. It reminded him of when he was a prince, the days he’d spend seated on a cushion between his mother’s legs as she gently combed and brushed his hair. 

“Mon bebe, such beautiful hair. Not a knot in sight. One day, you won’t need your mother to brush your hair.”

“No, Mother, I will always want you to…it feels nice and you always have this pretty smile when you do.”

Seonghwa felt himself tearing up, startled as Yeosang paused with a brush hovering over his cheek. 

“S-Seonghwa…?” He frowned, leaning away from him. Seonghwa blinked before straightening up. 

“Apologies. I was…thinking of my mother.” He smiled and sat down, pulling Yeosang into his lap. 

“I will sit still, continue.”

Yeosang straddled him, wiping his tears and carefully doing his makeup. He’d learned a lot in the time they’d spent with Hongjoong and his friends. 

Honestly, he was surprised Seonghwa agreed to let him do this for him. The older immortal held his hips and sat in silence, his eyes trained on Yeosang. 

“It's truly amazing.” 

Yeosang blinked down at him. 

“What is?”

“It’s been centuries, and my heart still flutters when I’m this close to you all.” He reached up and caressed Yeosang’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. 

“No matter how many moons have came and went, I still love the seven of you with my whole heart.”

Yeosang bit his lip, feeling his eyes get misty before he stole a kiss from Seonghwa. 

“D-Don’t make me cry, dammit. I’m trying to dote on you.”

Seonghwa chuckled and nodded, not saying much else as he stared at the kitsune.

When they were finished, Seonghwa walked downstairs, looking around subconsciously, counting the heads. 

He paused, eyes landing on Mingi, and he perked.

“Are you coming?”

Mingi cast a glance at San, arms crossed. San stared back, cocking a single brow at him.

‘Someone wouldn’t leave me alone until I did’./ “Yes. It is your birthday.” He answered, rubbing his ear and toying with the strap to his satchel.

Seonghwa fought back the way his smile nearly faltered from his face. Everything in his body language screamed that he didn’t really want to go out. 

He took a breath and pushed down any of those emotions and walked up to Mingi. 

“I appreciate you getting dressed. I…know you’re not very fond of me anymore, if you don’t want to come out, it’s alright. We can…reschedule? Or maybe I can break the day up so you’re not left alone?”

San bristled behind him and Jongho frowned, pushing himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against. 

“Hold on-”

“I’m not going to force him to come. I know Mingi has been hurt the most by me in these years, he has every right to not come with me.” Seonghwa spoke firmly, glancing at the others one by one before looking back to Mingi. 

Mingi held his gaze for a long while before sighing softly and rubbing his neck. He felt the gaze of everyone land on him and it immediately made him feel ill.

“I’m going. I…don’t have a gift for you, though. I’m sorry.”

Seonghwa’s smile softened. 

“Are you sure? I will not take offense if you don’t want to?”

“Staying cooped up in the house isn’t going to help me get out of my own head, either.” 

Seonghwa smiled wider, gently touching the back of Mingi’s hand for a brief moment. Mingi didn’t pull his hand away and Seonghwa took it as a small victory, turning to the others. 

“Alright, gentlemen, where are we going?”

Yunho placed his hand at the small of Mingi’s back, making sure he was truly alright before smiling at Seonghwa. 

“Let’s get in the car. We got an idea from Hongjoong and the others.”

One by one, the men walked out of the home with Cheese faithfully trotting beside them. 

San followed Mingi with his eyes, pressing his lips together in a frown before taking his place at Wooyoung’s side as they piled into the car.

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12:30 pm

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“Woo~ Well hello handsome~” Yeonjun whistled, their hands on their hips as the group of immortals walked up to their human friends. 

Seonghwa bowed in greeting, smiling at the others. 

“Oh, are you all going to enjoy this day with me?” 

“Of course, you’re our friend now!” Moa beamed, handing him a wrapped gift. 

“What is this?” He inquired. She smiled and put her hands on her hips. 

“It's a set of earrings! We all pooled together and had them made for you in a jiffy!” 

He opened the box, surprised by the green stones. He took a close look at the pattern in the snowflake-shaped stones and blinked in surprise.

They looked like feathers.

“It's a seraphinite stone. They bring out the color in your eyes.” Chungha told him, rocking on the balls of her feet. Seonghwa’s eyes softened as he put the earrings in. 

“Snowflakes, eh?” He smiled. 

“I suggested it.”

Seonghwa turned his attention towards the back of the group, watching as Hongjoong came up to him. His heart squeezed and he looked down as Hongjoong stopped in front of him. 

“Snowflakes. And why did you choose that shape?”

Hongjoong scratched his cheek, his free hand barely hiding a different bag from you. 

“Something about you just…reminds me of the night of a fresh snow. It’s cold, and for some people, it appears to not be very welcoming but it's actually one of the most beautiful gifts nature gives us. Ah, sorry, that sounds really cheesy-” He went beet red and handed him the bag, his ears burning in embarrassment. 

Seonghwa blushed, as well, looking down at the bag. 

Inside, bold red letters stared at him. 

“What is a…’Lego’?”

Chan looked at Hongjoong in confusion. 

“You got him a Lego set?”

Hongjoong blushed as Seonghwa pulled out one of two boxes. 

“I got him two, actually.”

Seonghwa stared at the first set. There were over 300 pieces to the set and a bunch of small little…animal mascots?? on it.

“This is…cute? I never expected something like this as a gift. Do I just assemble-”He choked on his own words as he looked at the second box.

Seonghwa’s hand shook subtly as he picked it up, staring at the second large Lego set. 

It was a pirate ship. 

“It…felt right. Sorry if its childish.” Hongjoong muttered. Seonghwa bit the inside of his cheek, his lips trembling as memories hit him like a brick. 

-”This ship is my pride an’ joy, Hwa. Everyone aboard it is essential to her smooth sailin’. Tha’s why a good Captian needs to take care of his crew like he does his ship.” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, listening to the short Captain once again boast about his ship to him. 

Seonghwa’s kingdom had more impressive ships, that much was for sure. He also found it interesting, a ship being ran by women fleeing their lives in lieu of one on the great blue sea. 

One misstep and they’d all be hunted down and destroyed, but oddly enough, Seonghwa had never seen a happier bunch. 

“Putois, you don’t need to sell me on this ship. I’ve already agreed to sail with you on it. I wouldn’t still be on it if I thought it would fall apart.”

Hongjoong laughed and leaned over the rail, the wind blowing his bangs wildly.

“Maybe, but I’ll keep singin’ her praises until you love her, Seonghwa.”

The blonde stared at him for a long time before coming to his side, arms brushing as he leaned against the rail.

“....I suppose she is quite beautiful, Captain.”-

Hongjoong let out a noise of surprise as Seonghwa pulled him into a strong hug, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. 

“It makes me very happy to know you got me gifts despite knowing me for such a short period of time. I will cherish them for the rest of my life.”

Yeonjun pouted from behind them and Changkyun cleared his throat. 

“We should go inside. We have a lot to see.”

Seonghwa looked up at the art museum and smiled. 

“Let’s go. Its been quite a while since I’ve been to a museum.” 

“We found one that will allow Cheese, too. Are you excited, little dude?” Felix inquired, petting Cheese. Cheese wagged his tail, walking directly beside Seonghwa, ears perked and alert. 

“THIS PLEASES CHEESE GREATLY, HUMAN.”

The boys bit back their laughs at the energetic hound and walked inside. 

Seonghwa found himself enjoying the pieces between scanning the crowd, making sure he had laid eyes on all of his loves and their friends. 

“You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself.” Wooyoung’s soft voice drew his attention as he stopped beside him, looking at a set of blown glass animals. Seonghwa looked down at it, humming. 

“I can’t help it. No matter where I go, I find myself looking for the seven of you.” He answered honestly. Wooyoung glanced over at him, gently taking Seonghwa’s free hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. 

“There’s always been something so…inspiring about the way you say things, Seonghwa.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, guiding Seonghwa and Cheese to the next painting. The three of them looked at the goofy art, with the card beside it explaining that it was made by the art director’s pet cat running across their paint and then the canvas. 

“There have been plenty of times, especially as of late, where I find myself at a loss for words or lacking the proper ones to say.” Seonghwa spoke honestly but Wooyoung shook his head once. 

“You still have this…unwavering determination I’m honestly jealous of. It takes me so long to get the words out for things I want to say and by time I’ve gathered the heart to do so, the words get caught in my throat.” 

Seonghwa put his arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders, pulling him closer. 

“If its about not speaking up when Mingi and I would argue, do know I do not hold it against you, or anyone. My behavior, the cause and effect they have created, are my own fault and its no one else’s fault but mine. If there’s anything our Captain has instilled in me, it’s an unwavering, bullheaded and sometimes idiotic determination to charge forward towards what you believe in.” Seonghwa ran his cool fingers over Wooyoung’s shoulder, putting his head above his. 

“Even if it hurts, even if I get tired, I won’t ever give up. You all are worth fighting for, and come Hell or high water, I’ll repair what was lost.”

Wooyoung looked up at him, lips parted, before he closed his mouth, standing on his tip toes to press a small kiss to the corner of Seonghwa’s lips. 

“I…have a lot to learn from you all. But I’ll get the courage and get on the same level as you one day.”

Seonghwa chuckled and guided him to the next one.

At some point, Hongjoong beckoned them over, pointing to a painting of a large wolf in a snow storm that was made entirely of different shades of blue.

Yeonjun stared at the painting in delight, chattering about different painting techniques to Chungha. Seonghwa stopped beside them, the art reminding him of the painting he had made for his beloved all those centuries ago.

“This one grabbed my interest,” Hongjoong explained, looking up at it with a gentle smile. Cheese carefully approached, nuzzling Hongjoong’s hand and wagging his tail when the pianist gently gave his head a pet. 

Seonghwa took in the brush strokes, staring into the eyes of the wolf for a long time before he nodded. 

“It is quite eye-catching, isn’t it? I wonder what kind of story it has to tell.”

“Cheese thinks Cheese is a more handsome doggo than the painting doggo. Though Cheese wonders if the blue doggo has blue toe beans.”

Seonghwa snorted quietly, looking down at the dog incredulously. Yeonjun perked, tilting their head. 

“Your dog is very chatty today. Isn’t that right?” They grinned, bending to pet Cheese. To them, it simply appeared to be gruff dog babbel. Cheese’s tail wagged and he licked Yeonjun’s face. 

“You have no idea! Cheese can talk faster than any doggo!”

Seonghwa smiled fondly at them before noticing Hongjoong’s hands, slightly wringing the bottom of his jacket as he stared at the painting. 

“Hm…would you like to go on a walk with me, Hongjoong? I’m a bit famished.” Seonghwa offered. 

Hongjoong perked and nodded, smiling. 

“Have you not eaten yet? C’mon, there’s a food court around here somewhere.” He looked towards Wooyoung and Yeonjun, but the former waved a hand kindly. 

“Go, go. I’ll bring Cheese over to the others so he can keep looking at exhibits.” He beamed. Yeonjun arched a brow at their friend, but Wooyoung hooked an arm under their arm, dragging them off before they could say a word. 

Seonghwa watched the trio go before turning his attention back to Hongjoong. 

“I’ll follow your lead.” 

Hongjoong walked through the art exhibit, only a few paces in front of Seonghwa. He slowed after a minute or two, rubbing his neck. 

“I…want to ask you something.”

“I figured you wanted to speak with me. What is it?” 

Hongjoong stopped, reaching and touching Seonghwa’s wrist over the compass mark he knew was there. 

“I…know you all, don’t I? Somehow…and you all know me.”

Seonghwa could see the frustration settle in his brow, and he knew the smaller man had probably been having the beginning pulses of a migraine. Seonghwa hummed, flipping his hand and taking Hongjoong’s. 

“I am learning a lot about you, yes. It’s very pleasant.” 

Hongjoong looked at him in confusion, staring at their hands. 

“But…That’s not what I mean. Not ‘me’ but-”

“It doesn’t matter much to me if I knew you before or if I’ve just met you now. My feelings are the same.” 

The two toned man’s eyes widened, staring at him in surprise as Seonghwa chuckled and brought his hand up to his cold cheek. 

“It’s my birthday, yes? May I be selfish and ask to enjoy this time with you without stress and worry? Even if its only for the day, whatever hard conversations may come, they can come on another.”

Hongjoong cleared his throat, feeling flustered as he moved his hand. 

“I’m going to get flustered if you talk like that.”

“Is it the worst thing if you do?” Seonghwa laughed gently and moved to the vendors selling food. Hongjoong watched him before he snapped back to reality and shuffled after him quickly. 

The two sat together, quietly people-watching as they ate some rather generously sized crepes. Hongjoong’s eyes were fixed on Seonghwa’s side profile more than the people around him, though. 

He really did look like a prince. His face was all sharp angles, yet they had a…soft quality to them that had the musician idly thinking he’d be a great idol.

“Did you do your makeup today?” He spoke without thinking and Seonghwa cut his steel gaze at him, humming as he licked creme from his lips. 

Hongjoong would admit to no one that he followed the motion like a hawk before looking back into his eyes. 

“Yeosang did. He’s learned a lot from Chungha, it seems. He was happy to try it on me so I let him. I’m not displeased.” 

“You look… really good.” 

Seonghwa chuckled and took another bite of his crepe, chewing thoughtfully. Hongjoong felt embarrassment creep into him once more. He’d asked Seonghwa to come with him, but now he was at a loss as to how to proceed now that Seonghwa had gently steered him away from prying on this whole…memory business.

Instead, he shoved a bite much too big to be considered polite into his mouth to keep himself from blurting out anything else in embarrassment. 

Seonghwa stared at him before he covered his mouth to keep himself from possibly spitting out any food as he laughed. 

“Dun lauf at meh!” Hongjoong struggled, cheeks round as his face went beet red. Seonghwa laughed harder still, joy shining in his eyes as he looked at the goofy two toned man in front of him. 

“Ah, apologies apologies. You just…you look very cute.” He smiled, one that reached his eyes as he put his head in his palm, staring at Hongjoong in a way that certainly didn’t help his flustered demeanor.  Seonghwa took in his appearance, cheeks rounded and his mismatched hair falling over his forehead as he tried to avoid his gaze.

"Küçük çizgili sincap~” 

Hongjoong blinked in confusion, swallowing his food before he squinted. He had recognized when Seonghwa had called him a small ferret before, but whatever he had said a moment ago went right over his head. 

“What did you say just now?” 

“Oh, nothing.” Seonghwa stood, a triumphant smile on his face as he turned away from him. 

“Shall we head back, küçük çizgili sincap ?”

“What are you calling me? Hey! Park Seonghwa-ya, wipe that smile off your face, what did you call me?!” Hongjoong complained, following close behind the blonde as he walked away. Seonghwa smiled, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, just something just for you.”

“What does that mean? Seonghwa? Hey, don’t speed up your paces! God, why are your legs so long- Seonghwa!!”

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Meanwhile…..

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“THAT ASSHOLE FORGOT ABOUT OUR ARRANGEMENT!”

Jeno watched as Jaemin cursed and swore up a storm, referring to the blonde ex prince. He glanced at Renjun and the man waved a hand, indicating he’d pay Jaemin’s ire no mind. 

“I’m sure there’s a good reason. Take the time to prepare.”

“I’m gonna wring their damn necks, wasting my damn time!”

Renjun rolled his eyes. 

“You’re the god of it. Just make more time.”

“Easy for you to say!”

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Taglist----

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[queereads-bracket]

Hiya! Love this as a thing, thanks for making it! I was wondering whether you had a complete list of submitted books anywhere, or if you'd be willing to make one? I would love to be able to add them all to my TBR and scrolling through the polls takes a bit of a while 😅 Thank you!

yes absolutely! helping people find fun new things to read is my Secret Nefarious True Purpose of this blog 😈

Below is a full list of all 68 entries to the Queer Fantasy Books bracket:

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley The Captive Prince series by C. S. Pacat Squad, written by Maggie Tokuda-Hall, illustrated by Lisa Sterle Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas The Tamir Triad series by Lynn Flewelling The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon Thousand Autumns: Qian Qiu by Meng Xi Shi The Tea Dragon Society by K. O’Neill The Nightrunner series by Lynn Flewelling Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard series by Rick Riordan Thirsty Mermaids by Kat Leyh A Dowry of Blood by S. T. Gibson Princess Princess Ever After by K. O’Neill The Raven Cycle series by Maggie Stiefvater The Dreamer Trilogy by Maggie Stiefvater The Elemental Logic series by Laurie J. Marks The Last Binding trilogy by Freya Marske The Witch Boy series by Molly Knox Ostertag Nimona by ND Stevenson The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez The Seraphina Duology (Seraphina, Shadow Scale) by Rachel Hartman The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw The Simon Snow series by Rainbow Rowell The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard Crier's War duology (Crier's War, Iron Heart) by Nina Varela The Burning Kingdoms series by Tasha Suri The Trials of Apollo series by Rick Riordan Crimson Sails series (Hunt on Dark Waters, Blood on the Tide) by Katee Robert House of Hollow by Krystal Sutherland The Machineries of Empire series by Yoon Ha Lee The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller The Dawnhounds by Sascha Stronach (The Endsong series) Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust The Rise of Kyoshi by F. C. Yee The Last Hours series by Cassandra Clare Salt Slow by Julia Armfield Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao Even Though I Knew the End by C. L. Polk The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb The Girl from the Sea by Molly Knox Ostertag The Masquerade Series by Seth Dickinson Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree Witchlight by Jessi Zabarsky Monstrous Regiment (Discworld) by Terry Pratchett The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie Six of Crows duology (Six of Crows, Crooked Kingdom) by Leigh Bardugo Infinity Alchemist by Kacen Callender (Infinity Alchemist series) Mooncakes, written by Suzanne Walker, illustrated by Wendy Xu Malice duology (Malice, Misrule) by Heather Walter The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow Snapdragon by Kat Leyh The Dark Artifices series by Cassandra Clare The Knight and the Necromancer series by A.H. Lee When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill The Left-Handed Booksellers of London series by Garth Nix The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern Taproot: A Story About a Gardener and a Ghost by Keezy Young The Radiant Emperor series by Shelley Parker-Chan Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare The Marble Queen, written by Anna Kopp, illustrated by Gabrielle Kari Saint Juniper's Folly by Alex Crespo The Cursed Heart by Derin Edala One Stormy Day in New Providence by E. Jade Lomax and K. Sundberg Godfell: The Complete Series by Christopher Sebela, Ben Hennessy (Illustrator)

[bohemian-nights]

What We May Mend (Chapter 5)

Word Count: ~15,898

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Laena Velaryon

Warnings ⚠️: Violence; minor smut

Description: In the year 126 AC Lady Laena Velaryon survives her difficult in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. With a second chance to mend their fractured marriage she and her husband Prince Daemon Targaryen return to Westeros with their children in tow as chaos unfolds around them🐉

AN: Sorry for the wait 🙏🏽 It’s a huge chapter again though 🌊

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 6

Laena did not know exactly how she made it out the doors to her chambers and down several rather steep flights of stairs and winding hallways to Hide Tide’s Great Hall. Hide Tide was not an especially large castle, but it was ostentatious. A beacon. Showcasing all that House Velaryon had become. Cementing the might and prestige of their noble and ancient house within the landscape of their new Andal homeland. Her father had overseen the construction of it himself. Next to she and Laenor it was his pride.                                                             

The pale stone castle could be a maze to those unfamiliar. The towers that jutted out made it difficult to get from the top It was easy enough to get lost in the grandeur of its halls if one did not know them well enough and they may very well be the halls of Laena’s childhood but she had been clear across the narrow sea for quite some time and in her present state, well really one had to wonder how she had not given into madness.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           She supposed her instincts had taken over. Her fears powered her as she rushed through the bustling corridors Aemon in her arms. He was the first thing she grabbed. The only thing she thought to grab in her distress. Having enough sense of mind in the frenzy of fear that had befallen over her to make sure he was not left alone with a serving boy in the hopes that he could find Beth or his wetnurse. Comforted by the fact That one of her children was tucked safely under her bosom.      

The mother guided her as she darted past her father. They themselves were past her father's servants who were running about the castle like someone's life depended upon it.

To and fro from the kitchen, up to Maester Crotons quarters; and back again to the Great Hall. Carrying with them gauze, dark bottles filled with ointments and tinctures from the Maesters stores, pots of boiling water, and porcelain bowls and linens stained with crimson. One had to wonder if stains would ever come out. If they would be the reminder of this nightmarish night. Forever inked in that deep viscus red. The only reminder. 

Laena tried not to look at them. It made her nauseous to even gaze upon that stomach-churning contrast. To imagine whose blood it might be. 

They had been injured. It might be their blood, but she did not want to think of it and give into despair before she had even caught sight of her girls.  

In the clamor, Laena had thankfully come across a frightened Beth. Someone must have sent for her, for she doubted the girl would have been aware of the fact that she had been needed, but the reasons for her need were unclear to her. 

In the time since she returned to her chamber, she had changed into her nightgown. It was not a very cold night, and the girl was from the thin robe for modesty’s sake. Her long dark hair was braided down into a single braid that rested down her back. 

The girl was ready for a much-needed respite. She too was exhausted from their journey and having to look after three restless children while Laena was bedridden and dead to the world and Daemon was too preoccupied with worrying over her mistresses' health. The dark circles under her eyelids were more pronounced in the low light of the hall and there was a grogginess in her tone, but all things considered, she was alert. 

“Take Aemon,” Laena had said as she handed her the babe who had become quite fussy. Not at all pleased from having been woken rather abruptly from his slumber and to be jostled about. “Go back to the nursery.” 

She should have offered her an explanation. The children got into some scuffle. The girls have been hurt, but there was no time in the rancor. She could barely think. She did not know what to think and likely neither did Beth. 

In fact, telling her might have done more harm than good. The girl would undoubtedly wish to find Aemon’s wet nurse so that she may join Laena. They didn't have the time, but her lack of effort did little to quell her curiosity. 

Beth had started to protest. She began running after her. Bouncing a very displeased red-faced Aemon to calm the babe while her short limbs tried yet failed to match the hurried pace she had set. 

Laena could recall that she had shouted out a What has happened my lady, until a gentle voice that sounded rather like Hazel Hearte, ushered her away from her pursuit. Back to the warmth and quietude of the nursery where the maid and child could rest. 

Bless her. She would not have been able to go on with a crying Aemon in her arms. He would have served only as a distraction. Another worry and she could not worry about two little ones much less three having no idea of what she was running into. 

The flock of ninnys reappeared and took to trailing after Laena once Beth had gone out of sight. However, she barely registered their various chidings.  

Be careful my lady, was shouted out by the plumper of the two when she almost tripped over her skirts and would have landed on her face had she lost her balance. 

Slow down my lady, the other had said when she had nearly run into a maid carrying a large bowl of water. 

Wait, my lady, they had chirped out simultaneously when she had turned a corner and left them behind. 

A buzzing had commenced in Laena's ear that made reason impossible, their chidings becoming white noise.

All of Hide Tide was aflutter, a den of life in what should be the quietness that would settle over the castle in the hour of the wolf, but that life was a shapeless blur under the shadow which had fallen over Laena. 

Baela and Rhaena. She had to get to Baela and Rhaena. She could not think of anything else. Their little faces flashed in her mind. Rhaena’s shy smile could light up a room. The way Baela would scrunch up her nose made her want to kiss it so that she too could see her joy. Even the way the two bickered over their dresses and toys or her attention, was music to her ears. They were the very air that she breathed. She would be lost without them. Cease to exist for what was she if not their mother? She had to get to them. 

Aemon had kept her sane, but now that he was out of her arms she felt nothing but cold which always seemed to lurk in the darkness waiting to overtake her seeping back in with every step she took. 

She was nearly delirious, dizzy with dread, by the time she reached the Great Hall. Laena pushed past the crowd of onlookers gawking at the growing spectacle formed on the outer edges of the chamber. One among them included Ser Vaemond who looked worried for mayhaps the first time in his life. He had zeroed in upon her under his hawk-like gaze. Grabbing her arm and speaking in a voice that she could not make out. Her ears were too clogged with the blood that had rushed to her head to make sense of the words he spoke.  

Despite the ringing in her ears, that pit of dread in her belly that ensnared her, and the weight of her fear dragging her down like an anchor tied to her ankle, it was the sight of him, with the clinking of his tongue as he made soundless ramblings, scrambled that had angered her the most. 

Oh, he no doubt meant to calm her, to placate her with whatever parable he thought would soothe a mother's woe, but what good were his words when her girls were hurt? Wanting her comfort as she wanted to comfort them. Useless that is what they were. Useless when all she wanted, all she needed was to see them, to see them safe. Damn him. No words of comfort could do that.  

Baela and Rhaena, she repeated. Heart pounding. She had to get to Baela and Rhaena. 

Laena brushed him off to make her way to her daughters who were standing at the center bloody and bruised with her mother who was trying her best to calm them though her attempts were well-meaning, affectionately coddling the girls, but ultimately inadequate when all they wished for was their mother.  She looked as relieved as Laena wanted to feel at the sight of her sprinting towards them in panic.

The Velaryon lady wasted no time as she scrambled to pull the pair of frightened girls into her arms. Not giving a second glance to the ghastly scene that she had walked into as she drew them close for her inspection. Scanning every inch of their persons for the culprit of their cries.  

The moment she had pulled her girls into her embrace Rhaena took to her with a vice-like grip, throwing her arms around her middle and burying her little brown face into the fabric of her robe, staining the silk with all manner and mordant, and more importantly making it impossible for Laena to inspect her properly. So she focused her gaze on her eldest first. She at least let her turn her about.

A tiny wave of relief flowed through her as she took her in that kept her from the onslaught of the panic that wished to overtake her. 

Baela was fine.      

Well, she sported a rather inky violet bruise on her arm that would worsen and spread marring her brown skin as the day went by, and a small cut right under her left brow. barely visible except if one was looking intently at her as her mother was. It would scab over in a day and be gone by the next. And it went without mentioning that she was covered in a cool layer of dirt, grime, and blood, but she was fine. 

She was shaking, her dark eyes wide and watery with her fright, but she had not been injured. 

To be sure, it was a chilling sight. No mother wanted to see her children with tears streaming down their faces or have them cling on to her like they were babes, but it was not the sight of Baela, however, who added to Laena’s panic. It was Rhaena.   

Where her sister's scraps were minor and the blood on her person was clearly not her own, nothing more than blood splatter for that cut upon her brow couldn’t produce that amount and it was the only one which could be found on her, the same unfortunately, couldn’t be said of the younger girl.  

Rhaena was on the verge of a fit. Shaking in her mother's hold to the point where her teeth clattered. Tears clouded her reddened eyes, only able to make out her mother's face as she babbled. “I did not think they were following us Mama. I did not know. I swear I did not. I swear it. I swear.” I swear. I swear. I swear, she cried over and over. Descending into gibberish. Clutching at her side as she repeated those words that made that pit of dread overflow. 

Sending a pang through her mothers chest that wracked through her entire being. Turning her to and fro in her arms as her mind spun with her and sent her in the throes of worry.

Blood, there was blood everywhere. Caked in her silver locs. Dyeing the ends red. Speckles of that same red across her face, on cheeks, dotted across her forehead, joining the freckles upon her nose, but that little teary brown face was spared from the worst of it. 

Her dress. It was Rhaena’s dress that took the brunt of whatever ill that had befallen over the girl who wore it. The white sleeve of her undershirt torn off, the left no longer white, and there was a tear across her abdomen. She should see a patch of honey skin peaking out beneath it, but all she could see was crimson. Whatever was there, fabric or flesh, was soaked through with blood.   

Laena was frantic in her movements in her search for the source of that blood. A frenzy guiding her as she pulled at the tear on the midriff of Rhaena’s dress.  Begging her to tell her where she was hurt. 

There had to be a gash slashed across her belly, piercing the delicate skin there and seeping her dress with her life blood. There was too much of it not to be from her. Too fresh. Too vivid. Too everywhere. It was everywhere and she needed to stop the bleeding. She needed someone to stop the bleeding. 

Where was Maester Croton? Why had no one attended to her? Why was her mother the only one concerned? Why was she the only one with them? Had no one listened to her? What were they all doing running around out there if they had not even taken the time to attend to her? Why was all of this fuss being made if not for her. Why was Rhaena still left in this grisly state?

She must have taken to  babbling herself for she saw Rhaena’s mouth moving to answer her in the haze of her mind. Making out the words I did not know. Four simple words stuck on an endless loop that made her wonder in anguish. It was in her wanderings that Laena even grew frustrated with herself.   

Why oh Gods, why could she not even find where her daughter was hurt? What would she do if she did not find it in time? There was so much blood. Why was there so much blood?  Why would it not just stop? She was pressing down on where she thought the wound was, but it would not stop. 

Why, why, why. A million questions for a million worry’s for a woman lost in her own grief. Like little stabs to an already broken heart. Making her forget all that was before. Who she had been with. What they had been speaking of. What made that figure with wild auburn curls and a look that mirrored her own dart out with her. She had forgotten even what the messenger had told her before speaking of her girls.  

Laena forgot every last bit of before. Rhaena and that blood that would not vanish was all there was. Her pain blotted out the rest.   

This was cruel. Far too cruel to inflict upon a child who had never harmed anyone. A child who was sweet and kind and inquisitive and all things good. She was brave in her own small way. She was a cherub. The very best of she and Daemon and no one seemed to care that she had been hurt. All they did was scream around her. 

Those voices. They were shouting her name. They had never stopped their cries of Laena, Laena, Laena. Stop Laena. Stop, but she did not hear them. She did not wish to hear them. Why should she when they had done nothing, but squawk at them?

She did not give them any mind as continued her frantic quest to find Rhaena’s wound. Lost in her dread.    

Laena would have gone on like that. Driving herself mad with Rhaena’s cries and senseless babble and her woe as she searched and searched in vain, asking the girl where had she been hurt, but recovering 

She would have gone mad had not her mother had enough sense grabbed her arm and yanked her into her hold. The older woman having to shake her to snap her out from her frenzy.    

“Laena. It is not her blood,” Laena could only imagine the look she must have given her. For she had gone wide eyed. A glint there from tears better contained than she herself had managed. Letting out her next words in one breath before she worked herself into another fit. “They are fine sweetling. Look.” 

She took her shaking hand in hers and wiped it across the abdomen of Rhaena’s dress with a single swipe. Smearing the blood round, adding new stains where there weren’t any to the dark garment ruined beyond repair, but there was no wound when the brown expanse of her stomach was at last revealed. 

No slash across her belly as Laena feared. Nothing  to indicate she had been harmed despite her bloody appearance. Not even a scratch. It was just blood.  

Not her blood. Not their blood. Just blood. Unknown. Unnamed, but nothing to concern her. Nothing to cause her heartache. 

“Maester Croton looked her over as well as Baela,” Her mother continued. Her voice lost some of that breathless urgency when she saw that Laena no longer looked as if she was going to give into her mindless riddles and anguish. A pair of brown eyes captured by a silver head. Baela nodded that head. 

“She is fine.” The jerk of her daughter's locs moving up and down hypnotized her. “They are both fine. It is not their blood.”  

Tis amazing what but a few simple words can do for a weary soul who had all but lost hope. Those last words ringing in her ear as the blood let out she looked between her girls. 

Bruised, scared out of her mind, but she was physically fine. Just like her elder sister. No one had hurt her. She more than likely fell. Tried. She was fine. Laena let that little bit of relief soak into her bones. Her heart no longer wishing to jump from her chest and crawl around on the ground looking for something to soothe it.       

“Where is Aemon?” Her mother asked. Forcing Laena’s eyes back onto her from where she was staring down through Baela lost in her thoughts.

Her arms still wrapped around her in that motherly fashion of hers. Rubbing circles into her back to soothe her as a set of hazel eyes scanned her face. 

She knew she didn’t mean anything by it. That she was not questioning her mothering. Just a need to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Anyone. A very specific little one who Laena hated to be parted from. Today or rather yesterday was the first time since she had awoken in a moon that she had done so. It had taken the better part of the morn to coax Aemon from her arms so that she could say her goodbyes to her brother. The babe was a fixture at her side. Twas odd seeing her without him and in such a state of agitation. 

“With Bess.” Her mother nodded. Her shoulders slumped releasing the tension she had held onto that she more than likely was unaware of. She gave her arm a squeeze and a small smile. There was something in that half-smile that did not reach where it should be that was not quite right. Something discomforting in it. 

Something was missing. No not something, someone was missing and she had not even noticed it in her fog. 

“Where is father?”

She knew Daemon was a lost cause as the hours grew long and her eyelids heavy with sleep. A part of her, beneath the madness, that small part of her that always expected more from him hoped that he’d be there. She would always hope. That he’d be there comforting their girl. Letting them cry into his shoulder. Bouncing them in his arms like when they were babes, just waiting for her, but he was not there. Instead, it was her mother. Only her mother. 

She had grown used to that. Could put aside her own disappointment for the sake of her girls. Had longed learned to stomach it with a smile or at least without her brow breaking out into a sweat, yet things should not have been.   

Her father should be here. He was not her husband. He had no reason not to be there at this late hour when they had all been aroused by the ruckus of the children's misdeeds. No reason not to be beside them in the chaos. Soothing them. Protecting them.  It was his duty as a father, as their grandsire, and he had not been one to neglect that duty. Not for something of this magnitude that had befallen within Hide Tides walls in the wee hours of the morn. It was his duty to be here. Why was he not here?  

Her mother meant to answer her, thin lips drawn and then a mouth opened, eyes darting to the archway as if Laena’s question could summon him, before turning them back to her, but they were interrupted by a drool voice.   

“The children should not have been out of bed Laena,” Daemion drawled from where he had plopped himself in an armchair. Admittedly Laena had not noticed her cousin who was making quite a show of himself gorging on a vine of grapes and Dornish red. How he had the stomach to do so with the scene that had played out in front of him Laena would not question. 

If anyone were able to, it would be Daeron Velaryon. One could not call him a malicious person, he did not inflict cruelties for the sake of it but he did take a great deal of pleasure in others' discomfort. Particularly in those who he had felt slighted him. 

A petty man he was. More so than his father. His slights bordered on irrationality.

Try as she might, Laena had never much cared for the elder of her cousins. Though she could take comfort in the fact that he cared for her as much as she did for him which was more than like the reason for his pleasure. In that moment she loathed the very sight of him.  

Sitting there with that smirk upon his face stuffing his mouth Laena could not help her own irritation and anything but familial sentiment towards him. It was a wonder how the Velaryon sea captain was not as big as an ox or how his rather large head had not been relieved from his body.  

“That is why they are in this state.” He waved a sandy hand around. A hand with a grape held between his thumb and pointer finger, before plopping it into his mouth. Voice muffled his infernal chewing. “You ought to have had that nurse-maid of yours check on them.” 

Loath him she did. Wished that it was his brother who had found them she did and he remained asleep in his chambers. However, as much as she wanted to say something that would quiet the insufferable man, he did have a point. 

“What were you and your sister doing out of bed?”  

She had directed her question at Baela with a voice shakier than she would have liked. Horse and low from her cries. Still lost somewhat in her ache.

The girl was sniffling, blowing her nose, and wiping her tears with the handkerchief her grandmother had given her, but she was much more coherent than her sister who had taken to hiding her silver head into Laena’s skirts crying her sorrow away, but surprisingly it was Rhaena herself who answered between sobs. Stilling herself enough to stop babbling.  

“No one was supposed to know Mama,” she began. Her bottom lip trembled as she lifted her head to meet her inquisition. Bloodshot brown shooting up to meet a matching pair.  

“I didn’t think anyone would know. Not until the morning. We would have told everyone in the morning. I promise. I didn’t know he had a knife. I tried—“ A hiccup had stopped but she soldiered on for a little while longer when Laena began rubbing circles into her back. “I tried to tell him not to. I did try. I promise. I tried mama. I did. No one was supposed to know. No one mama. No one.” She descended into babbles again. 

That brown face nuzzled itself back into the fabric of her robe, but just as one torment disappeared another took its place. Her daughter's disjointed tale sank in as a hand moved down absentmindedly to caress the back of Rhaena’s head as her daughter's rambles gnawed at her. Finally remembering fully what was in the past. 

The blood drained from her face just as quickly as it had returned.   

We. We would have told everyone in the morning. That we had not just been she and her sister. It could not have been just Rhaena and Baela. Blood did not materialize from nowhere nor did the knife which had found its target with such a fury. 

“Who had a knife?” The girl froze in her hold as the memories swarmed her. Dancing with what was around her. Everything flooded in all at once for she had blocked out everything except her girls and the reassurance that they were safe. Now it demanded its dues. Reality inescapable. 

“Rhaena who—” her question was answered before she could utter it twice.

“It will heal.” Spoke a soft voice from behind her. Twas not a voice she was familiar with, but the breathy cadence of a mother's pain was unmistakable. Broken by the sight of her child. Alicent’s voice. 

Aemond. That had been why the messenger boy had come in such a state scared to be on the receiving end of a mother's wrath.  

Rhaena and Baela had been injured, yes, but their injuries had been no more than soiled dresses and some minor scrap. It was Aemond who had truly hurt. Taking the brunt of the damage inflicted from their scuffle.  

It was not hard to who had been the true culprits of the attack judging by the king’s screams at his men and Aegon’s scowls at the sight of Jacaerys and Lucerys standing in the shadows who appeared no longer a shapeless blur in the corner of her sight but corporal beings bloody and clutching at each other it had been they who had been the perpetrators of such violence.  

The pair of pale boys with their red pudgy faces from their blood, and Aemond’s looked worse off than her girls, but their faces were only half the story. 

Laena did not wish to turn her head. She did not wish to know what exactly had happened to Alicent’s second son. 

There was so much blood. Too much blood. Whatever had happened to him was more than a scratch on his brow, the skin of a knee, a bruise, or even a broken bone. Whatever and she would not look. She could not look without fearing that she might break. 

He was not her child but she did not wish ill on him. He was a child. Her cousin albeit distantly. Her nephew by marriage, and he was Rhaena’s betrothed. Or he was about to become her betrothed. His health and well-being were of some importance to her. A fair amount of importance. For that, she would not be able to hold back her horror. 

“Will it not Maester?” She could hear the hope in Alicent’s query as if she had asked it herself. Clinging to the back of the queen's throat with so much longing, but that hope was extinguished by the Maesters declaration and she could not turn her head to that. 

His eye. The boy had lost his left eye. 

Lost to a foolish boy’s blade which should not have even been in his possession to begin with. Christening it with the intoxicating taste of first blood. He had not even acknowledged the gravity of it. Too lost in his own anger to recognize how he had robbed his uncle of half his sight. 

The reminder was permanent. Unlike the rest of the bloody mess, it had not been shuffled off by the score of maids and servants floating about the castle. Instead, the pale thing with its spiny tendril of nerves just sat lying there in a pool of its blood.   

Laena felt her stomach churn gazing at that bowl. She could not look away from it once she had. Brown eyes fixed on the organ. It was a miracle that the boy had not passed out from the pain or succumbed to it. 

“Where were you?” Alicent had rounded on her eldest. Hissing at the boy’s inebriated state with venom that made him stutter. His mumblings did little to calm the tide of his mother's torment. A slap could be heard over the crackling of the fire. Resounding around the somber chamber as the boy brought a pale hand up to his reddened cheek in shock. 

Laena could not imagine the torment Alicent felt, she prayed to the mother never was not even sure if he was deserving of it. Drunk he may be, but he seemed just as grief-stricken as his mother and his brother did not look as if he blamed him. Why should he? It was not he who blinded him. The children should have all been safely tucked into bed. Could he really have done much to prevent it?

 He was a determined boy and the call to a dragon was a hard thing to turn from for any Targaryen, much less a boy who felt. He has to have felt that. Aemond would not have waited until the cover of darkness if he felt otherwise. A desperate determination had taken hold of and his brother would have never been able to stop him. 

“Now I would not be too harsh on the boy. That one was being pummeled into the sand by Baela.” Alicent snapped her neck in her cousin’s direction. If he had wanted the queen's audience he had it, as well as bewildered Ser Otto, and the kings who looked more exasperated by the interruption. As if he had heard this tale quite a few times. Or at least some version of this story one time too many. 

Nevertheless, the man seemed pleased by the attention, Smirk growing ever wise by it before his gaze rolled to Baela. “Though it seems that their little quarrel was put to bed and our dear prince became the lookout. Eh, Baela?” The girl buried herself into her grandmother’s side, but he paid no mind to the glare he received from both the mother and his own father who had moved away from the outer crowd made up of guests, servants, and guards to join them.  

“You ought to be thanking the little one.” He gestured to Rhaena next.  

“She tried to turn her sleeve into a tourniquet for your boy, my queen.” He laughed before popping another piece of the sweet fruit into his mouth. This time right from the vine. She wished he had choked on it as he gabbed on and—he winked at her. Oh, that vile man. Her cousin had given Alicent a grin and then turned to wink at her. “Quite touching really. You would have been quite pleased. You both would have been.” 

Her cousin knew. He knew and he would not keep it to himself. Daeron had felt wronged by her. Gone for ten years and now shown up with an heir. A proper heir. One who he could not refute. Legitimacy unquestionable. 

Daeron would not keep her secrets. Especially not when he felt he could gain some favor from it. Foolish an idea as that may be.  

It was beyond foolish. The fact of the matter was that he would gain nothing from it if he had indeed told the king and he most certainly had him with those looks.

Oh her good-brother would of course thank him for his loyalty, and reassure him that his loyalty would not be in vain, but that would be the extent of it. 

Viserys had no great love for her father. Only a begrudging sense of duty towards him by way of slights and scores old but never felt forgotten. It was that duty that made him consider her for a bride. Why he had chosen Laenor for his daughter, Gods rest his soul, but there was nothing greater there.

He liked Vaemond even less and there was no obligation tying him to him. Barely a genial connection much less a familial one. 

There was a less than amicable association. Twas distant at best. No debt which to be paid that made the Velaryon knight at least tolerable. He was nothing more than a pest to him. 

Dare one say a thorn at his side for he had never been a quiet man nor one to go along with a poorly kept secret. The worst kept secret in the seven kingdoms. 

His opinions on that indiscretion did not go unknown through the years yesterday or even now for his eyes had flitted over to his grandnephews with that sneer of his, but he would not do more than that. Her uncle for the first time in ten years was content. 

He had his differences with her husband. Both were too opinionated of people unwilling to let their ideals and ambitions go unsaid for the sake of keeping the peace, but unlike with her good brother, they did not oppose one another. 

Daemon and Vaemond were singular in mind with their wants, recognition of course. In the way that all second sons wished to be recognized by their elders, but they had one above even the need to be seen or rather because of it.

Her father had always said that history remembers one’s name not blood, but blood carries names. If her father had believed that he would not have tried marrying her off to a man thirty years her senior or Laenor to a woman he could not even bed for a throne.   

When it is all said and done. A name is just a name. It dies with the one that holds it. They wanted more than just names. They had that now.  

Whether it would take Hazel Hearte another babe or two to achieve, her uncle just as Daemon and herself were sure that Aemon would inherit her father's throne that babe would sit beside him and bear. Blood is what carries on. 

Vaemond’s line was secure. He would not utter another word against her cousin. What did he care for the Iron Throne and who inherited it? Twas not the throne of his ancestor. Twas not his blood. 

So at last the king's pest was vanquished, yet his son had not been so easily pacified. 

Laena knew her cousin. Laenor had gone and she was almost sure that a not particularly small part of him had hoped she and Aemon would have gone with him. Discretion evaded him in his quest of some measure of recognition in his own right. 

He had turned to the king for it and while they might find some commonality on this issue. It was on the issue which the king truly cared for that he would be remembered by. Daeron would be lucky to receive so much as a mention of a need for a new commander of the royal fleet. 

Dangled like a carrot in front of him, but by the year's end, the seat would be occupied by some other lord who was much less. A Lannister mayhaps or a Redwyne. Laena remembered from her lessons that her good brother had a fondness for the old lord of the Arbor and his brother. 

“Where is Rhaenyra,” Alicent asked, turning back to her husband. Auburn brows raised as she held her head high. The inquiry was borne part from wanting and part to dare attention to Rhaenyra’s absence, dare Laena say the larger part wanting to distract her husband from what Daeron had just uttered, but there was no use they would find. 

“Where is Daemon?” Daeron drawled. Popping another grape in his mouth. For the second time, she wished that at the least he would choke on what he was stuffing himself with. Or mayhaps she should ring his neck. 

He was enjoying this fair too much. He was not even bothering with hiding. Her cousin viewed this as his entertainment. He took pleasure in her humiliation, but it met its end there. 

Where Laena had not been able to summon her father with a thought Daeron seemed to possess that ability. It seemed that Alicent Hightower did as well. 

Three figures sprinted into the great hall from the main archway. The creaking sound of the heavy door opening drew all eyes towards it. 

It was Baela who had noticed them first. “Kepa,” she shouted. Pulling out from her grandmother's hold who she had glued herself to after Laena’s inspection to run towards the tallest of the three. A silver blur buzzed past them towards him.  

The tall man caught her with ease. Scooping her up into his arms and bouncing her in his hold as she buried her teary face into his neck. 

The girl proceeded to speak in Valyrian. Loud enough for her mother to make out the constants and vowels of their ancestral tongue, but not enough indistinct to make out any words. 

Whatever she had spoken into her father’s ear turned the pale man stormy. Green eyes darkened as they darted between Rhaena still at her side, Aemon, and Aegon before he settled on the latter. The boy turned white under his uncle's stare, but Laena had not even noticed that at first glance. 

That piercing gaze found her for what could not have been more than a second or two across the hall. The corner of his eyes crinkled up with some mirth before he shifted his focus onto their eldest, but that was all she needed. 

Daemon was still in his black doublet from the days past. His silver strands were a bit mused, she could see something akin to dark circles underlining his eyes, but her father had been with him. In the same state. As if the two men had been simply drinking the night away and lost track of time. 

Making a mad dash to the Great Hall and only then happening upon her cousin who had walked in a mere foot ahead of them. Rhaenyra barely gave her half a glance. 

Done nothing but glare at her and then promptly shifted her focus onto her sons whom she rushed to with surprising speed and care for someone who had been seemingly too preoccupied with her efforts what seemed half a lifetime ago to notice the misdeeds of her children. 

Misdeeds paid in a pursuit well wasted for if she had truly won her husband, Laena would have received much more than that unkindness. 

A gloat dressed with a glimmer, pallid irises alight with victory. Something which to say cousin all is done or her hand would have been placed firmly in his, but that hand remained at her side those eyes contained nothing but her the bitter glow of poorly concealed disgust.    

In any case, her father would not have been hot on the Targaryen man’s heels, wearing yesterday’s clothes, with a questioning look thrown over her shoulders at her mother, and her husband would not have been able to meet her eyes, much less dedicate his focus towards their girls if anything had happened between the pair of dragons.

Daemon's indiscretions were never so silent an affair. In Pentos whenever he had taken he would avoid her til the afternoon. Be in his cups for half the day apologize with a drunken kiss to her temple and take Baela out for a ride the day after that. 

And now it was all so utterly ordinary. His concern for Baela and Rhaena. That smile he had gifted her, his eyes with their warmth upon her, they were all such little things but his very presence here with her made the suffocating mix of shame and doubt that she tried to keep tucked not so neatly away, always wishing to claw its way out where she placed it in the shadows, wither before her.  

She was so preoccupied with her elation that Laena had not noticed that Daemon was barreling towards her, or rather where Aegon and Aemond were standing until she could make out what Baela was saying. 

“He did not do it kepa.” It was spoken in the common tongue. Voice raising into something shrill. Pleading. Not in her usual way when she wanted something from him which had more often than not led to him being persuaded to take her out for a ride upon Caraxes. No, there was fear there. Enough panic in her voice to knock her mother out from her reverie to see why the girl was so upset. 

Her husband was making his way to Aegon. Thundering towards him with a face set to stone. Bickering had commenced between the king's wife and daughter, but it stopped at the sounds of Daemon’s heavy gait and Baela's protests.  

The boy to his credit had some merit. She had to give him that.  

He hadn’t cowered behind his mother in the face of his uncle's rage who had tried to pull him behind her, Bickering between herself and her good-daughter set aside at Baela’s cries. Anger long forgotten at her own son's less than admirable behavior as Daemon drew closer. 

Aegon grabbed the arm his mother meant to draw in front of him, but stayed. Holding his ground.

Apart from a slight twitch in his eye and a plaintive glance turned his father's way, who met him with indifference, he had barely even flinched. Of course, it was unlikely that Daemon was to hurt him. He still held Baela in his arms and Ser Criston matched his every move, but her husband was not a man to be tested.

If the boy said the wrong word, in the state Daemon was in, if he so much as stammered when he spoke, he would be upon him in seconds. 

Baela passed to her father who had continued to follow him, whispering something to him, yet he hadn't heard over his own choler or he pretended not to. A hand would wrap around his nephew's throat and pin him against the wall. It would take at least half a dozen knights and lords to pull him off Aegon. 

Twas best to end it now before anything rash were to happen. 

He was halfway to them when she decided to meet him there picking up Rhaena who had been still clinging to her middle. Though her cries had softened, the girl would not let her go. Barely noticing when she lifted her to bounce her upon her hip. Still too lost in her own little failure to pay attention to much around her. 

The maesters had been clear that lifting anything that weighed more than Aemon was out of the question, but she hadn’t the time to worry about it. She would not leave Rhaena alone. Not even with her mother across the hall.who trailed her. 

Hand her to me Laena. She is too heavy, she had said, but she batted her concerns away despite the strain of her weight she felt in her back. 

By the time she had reached Daemon, with some difficulty and a great deal of nagging his eyes were in flames.

“Daemon, they are fine.” She spoke with that same small voice she had used on their daughters when they were upset. Baela especially for she had her father's temperament when riled. 

Reaching out to place a hand upon his bicep. Stroking his sleeve when she saw he didn’t mind it. She did not know how else to reach out to him. Fearing words would simply not be adequate and neither had her touch been. 

He faced her, their eyes met again but it was as if he was looking right through her. His gaze moved down to the silver head buried into her neck with a grimace. She could practically see the steam coming off him as his vision landed upon a bruise on Rhaena’s temple that was not hidden by her curls.  

Laena had seen his anger; even in the midst of his melancholic moods, that fire in him was still there. Simmering just below the veil of it was not an uncommon sight, but it was never a pretty one either. Lesser men would be consumed by it, but he breathed its fires as if it was air rather than smoke wishing to render those caught in it blind and breathless. Stumbling through it until it cleared and one could see the destruction left in its wake.

He would not care. He would revel in it. He was itching for it. 

Her mother echoed what she said, calming her father, but it did nothing for him. Sword hand that had rubbing circles into Baela’s back twitching. She reminded herself that he was without Dark Sister. A small relief, but she knew that he could easily find something else in its place.  

A guard's dagger. Her father's great sword strapped to him. Daeron would surely sprout up from the comfort of his seat and with luxuries twisted between his tacky fingers to offer something to him. If nothing else to see what new mayhem might overtake the hall. 

She tried again. This time bringing a brown hand up to cup his face as she shook. “Our girls are fine. The blood is not theirs.” 

He leaned into her touch. Stubbled cheeks nuzzled into the flat of her palm. It must have been instinctual; it would have been sweet had the situation not been so dire. 

Daemon pulled away before she could say another word. His warmth left her as quickly as it came. The chill of the chamber's air reached her but a second after.

He did not even look at her as he spoke. Green eyes so dark that they might as well be called obsidian shifted to lock upon Aemond. Growing annoyed with Aegon’s refusal to bend under his glare. “And the bruises. I suppose they are not theirs either?”  

“Was it you boy?” He shouted over her head. Finally he set Baela down to stand at his side. Clutching at his arm she had completely given up trying to convince him against his accusations hurled at Alicent’s boys. One would have an easier time trying to coax a screeching cat to swim. 

Aemond turned his un-injured eye away from his father to glare at his uncle. his mother and Ser Criston tried to shield him from view, the boy had been through but her husband was a persistent man. He did not take kindly to being kept from his quarry. “Was this your doing? You half—”

“An accident,” She rushed out. Knowing that whatever he had to say was best left unsaid and would do more harm than good. His blood ran too hot to be rational. 

Her husband might’ve been without his sword, but his brothers' guards including Ser Criston who seemed more than protective of his king's second family, were not. 

The only thing seemingly standing in the way of the Dornish knight from confronting the man was Aemond and Alicent. Cobalt eyes upon Rhaena the injured boy had whispered something to his mother which made her place a hand on the kingsguard armor. Halting  Ser Criston in his tracks. The man was less than amused, but he followed his queen's silent commands 

Easily swayed from acts of vengeance where the Targaryen prince was not.

“It was an accident Daemon. He did not touch them.” Laena swiped her thumb across his brow in what she hoped was a soothing caress. Drawing circles into his skin to coax him to focus on her. It had its intended effect. For a spell.

Daemon had torn his gaze away from his nephews. Neck craned down to face her and she almost wished he hadn’t with the look he had given her.

“Did she tell you to say that?” He brought a pale hand up to stroke down her face. Despite the gentleness in his touch his words and that soft look in his eyes rimmed with ash had stung her. 

Cold, unfeeling they were. Gaze upon Alicent as he had said it. Those green eyes turned slits as he threw daggers at the Hightower woman who stood like a doe caught in between two hunters' crossfire or rather two dragons for Rhaenyra had as much venom for step-mother as her uncle did. 

“I would not lie to you.” Not about this. Never about this, Laena thought to herself. “Not for her.” Certainly not about their children. Not for anyone or anything. He had to believe her, but all he did was continue to stroke the back of her hand and give her that pitying look. 

She felt helpless. The situation was absolutely hopeless.  

He would not listen to her like this. He had gotten it in his head that his Alicent’s boys were guilty of malice upon their girls and that she in her naivety had been tricked by the woman herself into believing otherwise.

Mayhaps he was even right in thinking she was naive for she had almost missed his eyes flickering over to Otto Hightower.  

She had never seen Daemon look so disgusted. Pure hatred it was. Utterly hopeless it was. 

This was his reckoning. It was more than a bruised arm or a bump on their girl's heads from a fall or the vivid imaginations of Aemond or Aegon’s fists upon them. Pushing them into the dirt of the cave floor where the dragons nested. Standing over taunting them. Baseless imaginations fueled by his own hate. 

It did not matter what words she spoke or even the truth. The truth mattered least of all when he could get his reckoning upon Otto Hightower. 

Prideful man. He would not stop until he felt some form of justice was enacted and he’d be the one to do it. 

Laena had not noticed she had backed into her father. Having lost track of the man’s presence from the intensity of Daemon's hatred until she felt a hand on her arm when she had almost lost her balance from Rhaena’s shaking. 

 The girl had taken to rambling again, but her little voice was drowned out by the bards exchanged by Alicent and Rhaenyra who had renewed their accusations against one another to the king. The former had picked up where Daemon had left off with glee.

Aemond did not hurt. She repeated. He let me ride upon Seasmoke. It was not his fault I swear. Those entreaties would’ve warmed her heart if she had remembered. She should have been pleased that she would perhaps not be so miserable with the boy when the time came. That she might find some happiness where even she or her sister had or would not. 

It mattered not. Even if Rhaena had shouted the hall down, her father would have not paid it any mind regardless.

She would have to let him ride it out. Let him charge at their wounded nephew if he so pleased. He would never reach him and It would more than likely be the end of whatever agreement she had almost had. The deal was dead regardless. It was dead long before they stepped foot in this hall.   

Her good-brother had said nothing to Daeron’s goading, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Viserys and he would never allow the betrothals to take place and neither would Daemon or her cousin. 

Her cousin who would want her daughters for her boys. Her cousin who now demanded her half-brother, scarcely older than her own sons, sons who had maimed him over the truth, to be sharply questioned by her father's guards. His fathers too, but he was a father to one only. A brother to one only.  

Ser Otto may have wormed his way into the King's ear and his bed, but not into his heart. Alicent and her sons try as they might, they were not family. Not the family he would listen to. The family he would choose. 

That was the way of Targaryen’s. The way of her husband. Blood mattered, but everyone was blood. Blood demanded retribution for blood, but she was his blood. 

But she was Daemon's family. She was his wife. She was the mother of his children. His only children. They were his family and he would listen to them even if she had to force him away from her or make a spectacle of herself to do so.  

They were not in Pentos. She would not make a repeat of that here.      

“Take Rhaena.” She handed her sniffling girl to her mother who had remained thin-lipped at her side without sparing her a glance. Laena imagined if she were to look she’d see nothing apart from relief on her pale face, but that was inconsequential.

It was easy enough to pry him away from everyone. Prying Baela’s hand from his was a bit of an exercise in restraint. 

Their girl's head had turned up at her with doe eyes. Bottom lip sticking out in a pout. A look she had perfected that tugged at even Daemon’s blackened heart. 

It was the look she used when she wished for an hour more in the sitting perched upon her father's lap when Rhaena had already gone to bed. Adding a please kepa for good measure.

Laena thought she looked rather like her father when she did so, the cunningness of it was all him, but her husband disagreed.

She has your eyes. It’s hard to say no to her when she looks like that, he had said, offering nothing more.

Those eyes, her eyes stared back at her with that look, but once her mother had reached out to take her hand hers she went without complaint.

His eyes remained on the chaos as she drew him between the pillars that he had first entered through with her father, but she did not have to drag him behind them. His footsteps meticulously aligned with her own one after the other as he wordlessly followed her lead. 

It was dark there in that enclave. Quiet enough to where the voices of their family became a low hum in the background. 

Her husband's resistance remained at bay when she reached up to take his face between her hands. Without her boots she had to stand upon the tips of her toes to turn his head to face down. Away from the pale faces occupying the great hall and on her brown one instead.

It was at the first stroke down his cheek that he turned his gaze away from the scene that his brother's family had made. 

He did not look through her as she brought his head down to rest upon hers for half a breath. 

Laena let everything fade except the dark green of his irises and the feel of his skin underneath her fingertips. 

He was warm. So very warm. 

If he had been any warmer she would’ve thought he had come down with fever. but despite the warmness of his skin and that wild look in his eyes, it was nice to know that he was flesh. Living and breathing here with her. 

Soft. Laena had to remind herself to be soft and yet she could not falter. She could not give in and let him as he wished to do.

He could not sense any of her trepidation else he’d go back to stomping across the Great Hall leering at Alicent’s boys with murder in his eyes.   

“Rhaena would not lie to me,” Brown eyes widened as they locked onto each other. Trying not to falter under the heat of his gaze.

She had one goal. She could not get lost in anything else, but she could not look away either. “Neither would Baela lie to you. I would not lie to you,” Laena whispered the last words. There was not a need for more than that. 

“If I thought for a single moment Alicent Hightower or her sons had hurt our girls, I would have commanded my father's guards to fetch you Dark Sister.” It was not the complete truth. She would have never commanded such a thing, but the moment he had burst through those doors she would not have stopped him from ordering someone to do so. 

He knew that truth. He did not question her upon the lie in it once she had said it.

He brought his hands up from his sides to cup her face. If he hadn't been holding her. “They fell.” She nodded her head. She sent a prayer to the Gods when Laena saw the color slowly start to return to his irises. Giving into the hand that had was rubbing circles into the apple of her cheeks. 

She was exhausted as she leaned into his touch. Beyond exhausted. 

The Velaryon lady could not quite recall when she had last slept. Two nights ago. Sometime during the journey back. It was all a blur now. The excitement washing it away and leaving her cup empty. 

She should have gone to bed last night. Left Bess to watch over Aemon as she drifted off into the land of dreams. At least then she would’ve gotten some rest before some maid or serving boy had alerted her of her girls' trespasses in the night.  

She would have surely gone to bed now if it was up to her. Have the northern nurse-maid sent for to take the girls to their beds. Have the maids run a bath for her to calm her nerves. 

She should have had Daemon join her. Hold her. Stroke her silver curls while she let her head rest upon his shoulder. Tucking herself while she breathed in him. His hands caressing her and do more than that after. He would have done it. All it would take was a simple and she would have been whisked away without another thought given. 

Laena should've asked him to take her to bed before they were sucked into any more of it, but luck was no longer on her side in these walls. 

He had stopped his fighting. Stopped trying to get to them. Nodding his head as a hand went to cup her cheek and the other fell at his side. She felt exhausted as she let herself lean into Daemon, but her exhaustion had to wait.  

“He called us bastards.” Jace recounted. His voice was loud enough to flit over to where she had tucked them. 

Laena had never before heard the boy utter a word.  Laenor had not once visited them in self-imposed exile and neither had she in return.

Yesternoon was the first time she had ever laid her eyes upon any of her brother's children and that moon She had taken ill before she had the proper chance to speak to him.

It was an odd thing to listen to him. She tried to find that soothing cadence that had belonged to her brother when he had been the boy's age, but she found none of it. 

“Who did you hear it from?” The king's question boomed across the hall. Straining under an unfamiliar tone. 

He stood leaning upon his cane looming over Aemond. Bathing the boy in the shadows.

Laena had never known Viserys to be what she would call a jovial man, but he was not a cruel man. When one got down to it one would no sooner call him Maegor than they would call him Jaehaerys. Middling in every way. 

Her father was more kingly than he, but this was the closest he got to any of the old kings' might. 

“Aegon.” Aemond proclaimed without a waiver. His good eye unblinking at the towering ailing man.

A lie. Anyone would know that the younger prince had not learned it from his brother. A truth such as that did not come from a child no matter how feral that child was.

Aegon more than likely heard it from their own mother, or mayhaps even their grandsire,  but the boy thought it better to spin some tell some fib than the truth. A brother was a better sacrifice than their mother who clung to her younger son as much as he had clung to her. For even the king had his limits. 

Shades of brown blue and green turned to the prince.

His head was hung low. Lank strands curtaining his face, but Aegon did not miss a beat. Probably had been waiting to say so as his uncle had been with him himself. “Just look at them,” “Everyone knows it.”  

It was hard to decide whether his face or his voice held more repulsion. Defiance radiating from his very being. That defiance did not go unpunished. 

“Does your betrothed know as well?”  If someone had dropped a needle the sound of it hitting the stone floor then and there would fill the hall.

All traces of contemptuous arrogance were gone as Aegon stuttered. “Father?” 

“Come now. You've been truthful so far. Your cousin,” Viserys pointed to Baela standing between her parents. As if any needed an aid to who he meant. Their girls were the only cousins present and no one would think it was Rhaena between the two, but he had not wanted so much as a whiff of doubt. “Your betrothed does she know as well.” 

“She is not my betrothed.” The boy had screwed up his nose. Disgust still lining his sallow face. It was an act, but only partially so. Laena knew that unlike his brother Aegon was displeased by the circumstances. He made no move to restrain that displeasure, but. He had not ratted. 

It would’ve been a good act this part play. If one ignored the sweat upon his brow it would have been a very good act, except his father was not as senile as his appearance would have you believe.

“Do not lie to me, boy.” His voice boomed. Gaining a considerable amount of strength. Shocking Laena as Daemon had brought them closer to it. Diving head first back into the fray at the mention of their daughter.  “I have seen your mother's letters to Rhaenys.”

“Cousin—” Her mother tried to begin, her voice as light as a feather. When she but she silenced with a thump of the cane held in Viserys grasp. A heavy thing it was. Heavier than the man it supported.

That thud startled her where she stood. Her body involuntarily jumped from the sound reverberating around. She had not been the only one. Baela and Rhaena took to clinging onto her a little tighter. Her cousin choking upon those grapes of his, but recovered when his father thumped his back to clear his airway. 

“Not a word from you.” He rounded on her. “Not another word from any of you,” He remained standing. Leaning upon his cane for balance while he prowled. His gaze doing the traveling around the chamber where his legs could not. “You, Alicent, and your daughter have committed treason.” 

Laena closed her eyes when the teal of his met hers. Hiding behind her Daemon like Baela had not ten minutes past.

She knew she should not have. In doing so she had admitted her own guilt, but she could not face him when he wielded a sentence like that. She wished she could disappear into the floor. Melt into it or Vhagar would sense her distress and burst through the white stone walls of her father's keep.

Treason. She had not so much as thought of herself sitting upon the Driftwood throne while Laenor had been alive much less seating her girls on the Iron Throne til the past few days, and now she was accused of treason.  

Was it truly treasonous to seat the king's eldest son on his throne? Treasonous to want to marry Baela to Aegon? For her daughter to sit beside him. Rule beside him? 

She knew they did not want it, the king, Rhaenyra, her husband, but was a want treasonous? Was a want to see to see her girls safe treasonous?

Just because they would rather have a bastard boy seat upon that iron chair, who no one would recognize as a worthy heir apart from them, who would be dead before he could ever sit upon it, did not make it treasonous. 

Just because her mother had let them take what should have been hers. The throne. His crown. The kingdoms. It should have all been hers.

What would they have her to do? What did they expect from her?

She was supposed to let her daughters marry boys who would be dead before ever a crown was placed on their heads. To be mocked. Whispered about. Pitied. She was supposed to go along with it all with a smile and a thank you to the man who stole her mother's crown and the woman who wanted her husband for her own. Not say a thing and let them do as they please while she drowned in her unhappiness?

“Your wife was involved in the plotting?” Those eyes remained on her. “Were you not Laena?” 

Did he really expect her to answer that? She could not answer. Not when her throat felt as if she had swallowed sand. 

“Were you not Laena,” He tried again, patience wearing thin as his eyes narrowed. Words biting. If she had not been saved by her husband Laena was sure that she might have remained stuck there.

“Need I remind you brother my wife did not wake nor leave our bed even for my son's cries,” A hand was placed at her backside. Rubbing circles into the dimples of her lower back through her robe. Calming her as she had calmed him. “Unless she learned how to write in her sleep I can assure you she knew no more than I,” Daemon said with as much conviction as Aemond had and held just as much truth in it. The king did not miss that. 

“Your wife arrived with mine, brother.” He sneered. Pale eyes blazing as he stamped his cane. “She may not have known when you kept, but she most certainly was told by her as soon as she arrived.” 

“Your grace—” Her father had tried, but he too was cut off by Viserys. With a wave of his hand rather than the thump of that cane. 

“Oh, you needn't worry Corlys. I know my dear cousin did not tell you of her plots.” Viserys swiveled slowly in the direction of his hand. Adding to the suspense in an attempt to keep from dizziness.

 “Nor did your daughter tell you, Otto?” He smiled. Or at least she thought it was a smile. A poor attempt at one for his face was hardened into some mask-like figure. Whatever one called that, it did not reach his eyes. “You should congratulate her. She has managed to get your grandson closer to the throne in a fortnight than you have in five and ten years.”

The hand of the king remained mute. What was he to say? Lying would do no good and Laena doubted the man who had been so careful with his plots and schemes would want to admit to the fact that he had no knowledge of these proceedings. The plotters house in disarray. 

“That is why you have done this, correct?” If Viserys had wanted an answer from Alicent, he hadn’t waited for it. “You believe your son to be in danger. By my daughter. By my brother. So much so you thought to seek his own wife out to save them. Allow me to remedy that wife.” His face cracked. Making the sores upon his face bleed. Bursting through their scabs. 

Laena could see the spit flying out from the king’s mouth. As if the words were poison upon his tongue. 

“Father,” Rhaenyra’s dulcet tone rang beside her ear. The targaryen seized the opportunity to unwrap her arm around her. Linking them together in a stiff embrace that made her skin crawl.

Laena was beginning to learn that her cousin moved quickly when she wanted to. “I have made an offer to my uncle,” The wrong kind of offer, doubtless, but she added. “And my cousin as my offer to wed Jacaerys to Helaena stepmother still stands.” It was spoken so sweetly. 

Saccharine poured out from her lips, but that sweetness tasted far too sweet when her claws dug. “After the events of tonight-,” Rhaenyra, was cut off by the same hand raised at her father. 

“You worry about my brother sending assassins in the middle of the night to murder your sons. Is that right Alicent?” The queen opened her mouth to speak, but Viserys continued on. “Then your sons shall become his.” He waited not a second to turn his body to her husband. Scanning his eyes as he leaned on his cane. 

“She is a child,” Aegon cried. “I can not marry her!” His mouth was gaping enough that it could catch flies. Earning his uncle's attention once more. 

“You would be lucky enough to have her,” Fire returned to Daemon’s eyes, but he remained settled when she placed her over his round her back. 

“She will not be a child forever, boy,” Visery supplied. “What was it that your mother told you Laena when your father offered you to me?” Her mother turned as white as a sheet, but. 

All protest. “You will not have to bed her until she is four and ten. She will not  be a child then.” If Laena had thought her husband had wanted to throttle her uncle the day last she had not known the look. Daemon looked as if he wanted to kick his cane out from under him and toss the man into the fire he stood beside himself. 

“She will still be a child brother.” Laena shot her eyes to her husband's side. Finding his sword hand twitching. Daemon’s temper waning and waxing like the moon. 

his eyes on Aegon who found the beauty in silence, hand clasped in front of him, and a bended head. 

His mother would not come to his rescue. She could not look at him more than Laena could look at Baela now though it was not out of guilt that made her do so.  

The boy had dug his own grave while she had tried to save him. Tried to save all of them and he did not make it easy when they faced opposition at every angle.

“Would five and ten suit you better? Laena was that age  when you carted her off to Pentos without my consent or knowledge. Was she not Daemon?” She tensed, but Daemon did not let it rattle him. 

“She was not yours which to give me permission for, as Baela is not yours either to command.” Her husband challenged him with his brow raised. The older man bent his stare. Or at least he did not dissent. 

“They will need a keep of their own,” he gave her hand a squeeze. “Your throne will go to Rhaenyra as will Driftmark go to my son when the time comes.” Laena sucked in her breath. Waiting for someone to object to it.

Her mother was sure that she would be named heir now and, but apart from her father being the picture of mirth  when she had presented Aemon as the future Lord of the Tides, he had yet to say anything on the matter and Daemon could not be very fond of the idea of Aegon and Baela’s betrothal. 

A bluff. It had to be a bluff.

She went along with his throughout the years. A united front. That was their deal. She never questioned. Shut her mouth when he asked. Even on occasion he’d go alone with a minor fib or two, but this was more than that. This was their daughter's future and she had not even consulted him on it. As good as betrothed their girls to the grandson of his adversary  and yet he was going along with the proposition. 

“Dragonstone.” The word was clipped. Spoken as if it pained the man to say so.

If the Stranger himself had appeared before them and pulled back his cloak  to reveal the face of man she would not have been more surprised, but Daemon nodded his head in agreement. Letting out a grunt in agreement for good measure. 

“Then the deed is done,” Viserys turned on his heel. Not wanting to look upon his brother for longer than need be.  “None of you shall lose any sleep over it.”

“I will hear no more of this talk,” The king had begun to move again towards the dias. Eyes roving the crowd as he passed milky to umber hues of faces.  “No more talk of bastardy or of usurpation.”

“Jace shall marry Helaena,” His gaze traveled between the two standing parallel to him. Jace did not look as displeased as his uncle had with his betrothal and neither did Helaena. A pale silent thing she was standing near her brothers, but not displeased. Exchanging shy looks with the boy. 

Quite a contrast to her mother who looked anything but the solemn expression she wore was somewhat alleviated with her husband's next decree. 

 “Aegon shall marry Baela. That shall be your lot.” Not an objection was stated besides a sniffle from Rhaena when he reached Aemond. The boy himself glaring at his father.

The king bent to his eye level. Sneering at him. “You have something to say, Aemond? Think I have forgotten you?” He pointed to Rhaena regarding her as if she were some trinket before continuing on. “Your mother promised her to you and you want her?” Laena was taken back by his candor  when he bobbed his head. Still glaring at him. “You may have her if you so wish. Let no one say I have not been generous with you. With any of you.” He picked up his cane as he stood upon the dias. Thrice stamping the thing into the cobblestones. 

“I am your father. I am your husband and your brother, but most importantly I am your king and you will obey me!”  He looked every inch of it then. Laena imagined it was how the old king had looked. The man who convinced her mother to forfeit her own claim he was here in his grandson's shadow. A shiver went up her spine. The hall had fallen silent all apart from Alicent who still managed to keep a hold of her nerve.

“If you say another word, Alicent I will send for Daeron and have him brought here for my brother to keep. I already have half a mind to already. The Gods only know what poison your cousins have been whispering into his ears.” Viserys' pale eyes held no life in it as he commanded his wife’s silence as she shrank into herself. 

“You are blood and you are bound by it twice over. If you seek to destroy each other you will destroy yourselves and this house.” He thumped his cane. “Make your apologies and show goodwill.” He demanded it. 

Goodwill, blood, apologies. One had to see the sense in it. Twas not ideal, no party present had gotten exactly what they wished, least of all justice. Only half measures. The issue was far from resolved, but they would get no more than that from a stubborn man who was worn past his years. 

Mayhaps that would have been the end of it. At least for tonight. This morning. Whatever time it was now. They could have  all gone to bed. Laena very much would’ve liked to have gone to bed. Whatever had transpired could be dealt with when the sun came out, she told herself. Tugging on Daemon's sleeve and motioning her mother to bring their girls to them when Alicent interrupted her plans. 

Viserys called upon blood, but what did blood mean to this family? Blood meant so little when one was not willing to protect their own. When one did not protect those who needed it the most or played favorites. 

Blood was not enough and Alicent for her part would not be silenced in recognizing that. The matter was not finished for the mother of an injured boy. 

An eye. She wanted an eye. Demanded it from Luke or Jacerys. It did not matter. One eye would do. Cruel it may be, but justice for her boy had not been served.

“He is your son. Viserys.” Tears running down her face she begged her husband for some action. For recognition of Aemonds pain. Of their neglect. If she had gotten on her hands and knees it would not have been more disheartening but the man remained unmoved. 

It was eerie. The way the king looked at his wife. 

His eyes held no life. Not for Alicent. His words held no love for her or her children. 

Hissing at her as he ordered her to quit. Unbending. Unyielding. One would think she were a stranger. Not his children that shared half his blood, that inherited his eyes, his hair, his face were not his. 

“Do you understand?” That broke her, but Rhaenyra dealt the final blow. 

She had not gotten everything she had wished for. Lost the girls and very likely Daemon from a bad play, but she had fathers favor and she was keen on reminding at least one of her rivals that. 

“Thank you father.” The taste of victory had never looked so triumphant from another’s tongue. She did not look at her good-mother Rhaenyra’s conceit. It would drive anyone to madness. Crumble away at any last resolve one would have. 

Her cousin had acted swiftly. She knew later that it had all been calculated long ago. Moving closer to her and Daemon. Locking their arms together in some show of sisterly affection. Those words she spoke directed at Alicent. Taunting her. Baiting her. 

The crowd had done the rest for her. Separating she and Daemon from each other, but it had been her blunt determination that got her there. 

Laena had tried wringing out of her hold. Tried with all  graces and supplications. 

“Rhaenyra.” She did not move. “Rhaenyra,” she tried again, but she remained unmoved. Cousin. Her grip tightened. Any more and she’d feel her arm go numb. “Sister please,” She pleaded. She tried to keep her tears at bay, but she was not made of stone. She tasted the salt of her pain on her lips. “Please.” The last one had been answered with a steel

Rhaenyra’s mockery was redirected with a quirk of the corner of her thin lips. Blink and you would miss it.“I did warn my uncle.” Back straight she did not dare face her. Cause attention to what was out of place. 

Pale eyes firm upon the threat charging at them. Fear in her eyes, but that fear was not in her voice. One would think that she had asked Laena if she would like a chalice of wine.

Warn him. Warn him. Warn him. Alicent was a mere foot from them when Laena realized her meaning.

I need you uncle. Alicent will not see reason. They wish to swallow me whole. I can not see a way out. The letter that bloody letter she had done her hardest to put from her mind these past hours. 

Rhaenyra wanted him to see. She was no more content than her stepmother. This was her way out. Her way for Daemon Laena was the bait, but her realization came a mere foot too late. 

It had taken two heartbeats for Alicent to reach them. Laena could recall that detail when the maester had asked later because she had counted. Trying to calm  herself. 

The queen had not been deterred by her own presence. She was pinned against Rhaenyra as her good sister tried lunging for the Targaryen woman with her husband's blade.  

Duty, honor, sacrifice. Laena had heard her spit out those words. The order she could not say. All became mere noise when a blade was pointed at her eye. 

Rhaenyra did not stop her from backing into her, but she did little to calm the Hightower woman either. Goading her with her bark. 

“Now they see you.” It was the words that sent chills throughout Laena’s on spine. Words alone could not do so. 

It was her coldness. All the light left out from her. A statue made of pale marble. She imagined that it could rival the North and make the hardest of those men breed for snow fall victim to its bite.

Laena could not entirely blame the Hightower woman for her actions then. Just wished she had not been between them, facing the wrong end of catspaw. 

It was over quickly. There was relief in that. A single swipe carved down her arm. Cutting through skin and the silk of her robe. 

She had been too close for her aim to be precise. Too close for the knife to only meet Rhaenyra and not her. Alicent had only one shot and she had taken it.

It was impossible for Daemon to have broken free from the crowd to reach her before she hit the ground.  He would have had to be standing right beside her to do that.  Her knees had already given out when he had. 

Alicent had tried to reach her. Realizing as soon as she and not Rhaenyra had yelped from the bite of the blade digging into her arm. 

“Laena,” she sounded as petrified as she felt. Her brown eyes dangerously close to popping out of her skull with fright. 

“It’s okay,” she had said. She did not know if she had said it for herself or for Alicent. It’s okay. Looking at her own blood, so very vivid, she did not feel okay, quite dizzy. 

She was in her husband's arms before a proper apology could be made. An arm wrapping and another draped across her back as he glared at the Hightower woman into submission. She scampered back to Ser Criston. The knight hastily pulled her behind him. Sword in his other hand.

If he had not found her to be at the very edge of consciousness, the second time in just shy of two two moons, she knew he would have taken the sword strapped to her fathers belt, the closest weapon to him  not in an enemy's hands and given Alicent a scar to match.

Six and ten stitches. That was the exact number of neat sutures she had needed to close the wound Alicent had sliced into her arm. Six and teen stitches. 

Laena winced on the last one.  “Almost done my lady.” She recalled Maester Croton giving her a small smile as he tried to avoid her husband's glare. The main burning a hole into the side of the maesters head with the weight of it.

 She was lucky. Very lucky. If the dagger had moved an inch higher, a single inch, it would have struck something that could not be mended with six and ten stitches. 

He had not left her side. Not since he lifted her into his arms. Not even for her. 

A moth to an open flame Rhaenyra had trailed them. “She will not stop uncle.” Any other time Laena would’ve marveled at the speed her cousin followed them. Then of course if it had been any other time she would have rung her neck for what she had done or maybe it was because of it. Her pain was stroking her annoyance with her.  “Not with me. Or my sons. Or—”

“Or my wife,” her cousin went to nod her head like some halfwit. Seemingly oblivious to the rage in his tone. Her smile fading only with the next of his chastisements. “I wonder if you should help her with that. Or if you shall take it upon yourself to do so.” 

“Uncle I—“

“Listen to your father for once and go to bed, niece.” Someone had slammed the door of their chambers in her face. She wished she could have seen her face, but the sound of her stutter, the feel of her husband, and that door shutting was enough. 

Laena was almost sure it had been Vaemond. Picturing his dark face with a light  with a smile. A simple thing, but one that would have made him positively giddy. A perfect end to a perfect early morning and he had barely spoken more than a few words. 

They had gone back to talking amongst themselves soon enough. Bickering was more like it. 

Her parents, her uncle, even her cousins who had followed them all descended into making jabs at one another for what had transpired. 

Was that necessary? I ought to box your ears for that. You made a spectacle of yourself. Who else have you been sending letters to? It stops here! You ought to have been more careful. You should have come to us first. Not the king. Not Alicent Hightower. You ought to have told us. Told me!

Scoldings after scoldings handed out at the others like they were children, but those bickers gave way to whispers. Then nothing at all and something again. 

Maester Croton had long been gone by then as had Ser Vaemond and his sons. 

Laena tucked into bed. At some point she  had fallen asleep from the mixture of a lack of sleep and the pain in her arm. Awakening to the something. Her mothers voice breaking through her dreamless slumber. 

“Your brother is weak Daemon and a fool!” She snarled. Guttural sound it was. Laena hadn’t thought she had ever heard her father snarl much less her mother.

“If he were in a grandsire's place, our house would long be dead. Your brother is lucky to be Viserys I for he would have been the last” Bleary eyed, Laena could make out her mother pacing before her father grabbed her to settle her. 

“He thinks you are the only one who brings forth chaos, but you both are a disease. I have done what your two could not and I will not apologize for saving our house.”

“You have given our house over to vipers. You have saved no one cousin save your own damn pride.” His eyes were slits as he hissed at her yet he remained seated. By her side. Petting her hair with the gentleness of well with a gentleness that could rival the Mother. The juxtaposition was stark. 

“My pride!” She roared enough to cause Meleys to answer with one of her own in the distance. Much like Vhagar, the smaller red dragon had been making circles around the castle since the funeral.

At one point she had sent out a round of flames into the burgeoning sunrise. She imagined if her mother was able to, she would join her beast with a round of her own.

A dragon's fire could not be extinguished by another’s. Its intensity only growing when it meets the other flames. And her mother had the temperament of a Baratheon to contend with. They would go on like this trying to reduce the  other into a pile of ash but Laena would not withstand their bickering.

“I shall never sleep if you both keep shouting in my ear,” Three pairs of eyes turned to her, setting aside grievances to dote upon her. She endured their pettings for a half hour before her parents left them. Her father assured her once they knew she was in adequate health while her mother glared at Daemon. We shall let you rest, sweetlings.

“Were you with my father the entire time?” It felt the safest option as she sipped upon the glass of water Daemon handed her. Laena was almost sure she knew what his answer would be. They had come in together. There was no awkwardness between the two and they smelt of smoke and wine and not the smell of something which she would rather not think of.  

Her husband grabbed her hand with his free one. Bringing the back of it to his lips placing a kiss upon it before speaking. 

 Eyes gazing into hers as she scanned his face. “Yes.” A simple answer for a simple truth. 

She could have left it at that truth. Let him dote upon her some more. Arm still aching with a pain she would not soon forget and a want for sleep, or at least a want to stay in the bed until tomorrow, but what good was the truth when they did not have all of it? When they had to bleed for it? Almost paid for their life for it twice over? Simple was no longer adequate for her. 

Laena closed her eyes as she thought of more the pain she felt. “What would you have done if you had not reached me in time?” 

Now. A moon ago. It did not matter, it was all the same. Her end could have been met at any turn. Anything could have happened. 

She could hear Daemon placing the glass in his hand onto the end table before the bed dipped under his weight. She was wrapped in his arms in seconds  as he tried turning her mind from it.

“None of that my  sweet girl.” He shushed her as he rocked her. “Please Laena do not say that.” She could have listened to him. Accepted an answer for answer. He had not lied to her. He had given her what she wanted. 

Proved to her his faithfulness in his own way, but once one had a taste of the truth after going for so long without it they would always ask for more. 

“You would have been fine I think.” No point in thinking about it now. She was here. It was unlikely she would go anywhere or any one would get to her, anyone would get to them now, but she would always wonder. 

He would have been fine. Perfectly fine. He would grieve for a time, but Daemon Targaryen was not a man made for grieving. 

He would have lived. No comprises. No half measures. He would have had what he wanted. Done as he pleased. Even their girls would be fine. Finding their own way somehow, but he would hear none of it. No more truths left to tell. 

The past and a million what ifs dying before them. 

“I would be without you.”Tucking her head underneath his chin as he rained down kisses upon his temple. The fight had left her as quickly as it had come. Fights never lasted long when she was in his arms. 

 “You are where you are supposed to be. Here with me. I need you Laena. I do not wish for any one else in your place,”’He cradled her head between his hands. Lips enveloped hers with a whisper of my sweet Laena on them and she did not protest. Leaning into his touch. 

The kiss took her already strained breath away and yet she hungered for more. Whatever he would give to her.

The man before her did not go unaffected either. 

He only pulled away for breath. A pearly string of salvia connected them as he placed small pecks onto her lips before Daemon renewed the maddening extent of his efforts. This time trailing her neck. Taking a brown nipple between teeth to suckle upon. 

Applying just enough pressure to have her thread her fingers through his strands to pull him closer, but not pulling away to trail his kisses down her ribs so as not to draw any milk. 

His mouth never left her skin that had become feverish under his touch. 

She felt like she was on fire. Turning into a pile of something molten before him and he had barely touched her. 

He had reached her stomach when he had paused. Silver head resting on her lower belly. Dropping a kiss upon a freckle before lifting his gaze so their eyes would meet. Shades of fire in them. “I want another one.”   

He sounded so hopeful. He looked so hopeful and she wanted to join him in it. She wanted another too. Wanted half a dozen more. Wanted to ignore the warning  that the Maester had given her. That her own body told her with its aches and pains.

He didn’t give her much time to wallow in her inadequacies. It was the early days still. He reminded her of that fact with his petting. 

Her sopping heat called to him. Ensnaring his senses. Far too wet for what he had down, but he did not mind that tantalizing sight. The taste of her honey on his parched tongue. 

The only drink worth a damn in their exile, he had whispered one night. Breathe ghosting her fluttering heat after she had passed out from the pleasure. Walking up to find his head still buried into her cunt. She had to hide her heated cheeks into her pillow to keep from grinning and moaning like a mad woman.  

Laena had a feeling that he wished to make a repeat of that night before the sun would greet them. His lips making the unhurried descent down to the apex of her thighs. His hands grazed the outer lips of her womanhood. 

“I want you.” It was a silly thing to say when his face was close to her want and she had taken his hand at her thigh and placed it on her bare cunt, but the lack of air to her head made her forget the silliness of it. 

He didn’t chastise her for it. Make fun of the fact that he could smell her and see her arousal as if he had already buried herself into the sopping mess of her. 

“You have me Laena,” he breathed into the skin of her thigh and with that she was gone. 

He was slow. Unhurried. Like they had all the time in the world as he lapped at her folds. Mayhaps they did as he pulled from her peak after peak. 

Pushing his length into her when she trembled underneath him and told him she could not take anymore, but he gave her more still. Rocking into her until they were both a soaking mess of teeth, whines, limbs, and peaks stretched on and left them curling and clinging onto their lover. 

They were breathless lying in the afterglow. Forgetting everything apart from each other. 

“I love you,” he whispered before enveloping her in another kiss. For all that was, he was poured into that kiss. Breathing as much life into it as he did into her. I love you. For the first time, Laena believed him.

Ao3 Link:

[lavastories]

UPDATE!!!Everything I’m Currently Reading to Completed to Everything on my Interactive TBR!

LOL, brace yourself guys this is gonna be a pretty long list from all of my interactive platforms across the grid. This will be going by apps with list of stories.

What I completed reading will be in red crossed out. What I’m currently reading will be in green. What’s on my TBR will be in pink. And what I’m considering to read will be in orange. And what I’m unsure about will be in purple. And what I’ll drop reading will be in blue. And undecided will be in black.

Romance Club

1. And The Haze Will Take Us

2. 7 Brothers

3. Astrea’s Broken Heart

4. The One: Vol 2

5. Garden of Eden

6. Soulless

7. W: Time Catcher

8. Song of the Crimson Nile

9. Elite Tag

10. The Desert Rose

11. Vying for Versailles

12. Psi

13. The One: Vol 1

14. Hell and High Water

15. Theodora

16. The Flower from Tiamat’s Fire

17. Heart of Trespia

18. Gladiator Chrronicles

19. Seduced by the Rythum

20. Arcanum

21. Shadows of Sanitfour

22. Sophie’s Ten Wishes

23. Path of the Valkyrie

24. Love from Outer Space

25. Dracula. A Love Story

26. Legend of the Willow

27. Wave Patrol

28. Queen in 30 Days

29. Sails in the Fog

30. Heaven’s Secret- Requiem

31. Kali: Flame of Samsara

32. Love, Sin, & Evil: Vol 1

33. Chasing You 2

34. Heaven’s Secret 2 (Currently rereading for LI)

35. Kali: Call of Darkness

36. On Thin Ice

37. Sins of London

38. Rage of the Titans

39. Heaven’s Secret

40. Chasing You

41. My Hollywood Story

42. Moonborn

43. The Thunderstorms Saga

CHAPTERS (Keep in mind this app has SOOOO many books, so I’ll be putting the one’s I’ve started, all 27 books. I see to which ones I’ll be continuing, finished read, on my TBR, or not going to continue.)

1. Paying My Dues - Story by ME

2. Knocked Up By the Hockey Team

3. Bride of Anubis

4. Bad Boy Blues

5. Dangerous Guilty Pleasure - User Story

6. My Best Friend’s Baby

7. Having the Convict’s Baby

8. I Lost My Innocence to the Mafia Boss

9. Slashes In The Snow

10. Hot Hot Hate

11. Ruined

12. Pregnant by my Ex’s Dad

13. Addicted

14. My First Time - User Story

15. Our Story - User Story

16. The Darkest Kiss

17. Emergency Engagement

18. Night Prince 3: Bound by Flames

19. Love In the Deep End

20. COLE

21. Seven Day Fiancé

22. Burn for Me

23. The Dark Ones

24. Promise Me - User Story

25. Nico: A Mafia Romance

26. HALO

27. Waking up Pregnant

Choices (For the sake of the post, I’ll keep the books for this general and away from the VIP books. However, only will have the books of the VIP books that became wide release)

1. The Ghost of Us

2. BloodBound Series

3. The Royal Romance Series

4. The Nanny Affair Series

5. Rules of Engagement Series

6. Open Heart Series

7. Laws of Attraction Series

8. Roommates With Benefits

9. The Royal Masquerade

10. With Every Heartbeat

11. Rising Tides

12. Hot Shot

13. Alpha

14. Dirty Little Secrets

15. The Billionaire’s Baby

16. Surrender

17. Untameable

18. Shipwrecked

19. Kiss of Death

20. Wolf Bride

21. Witness: A Bodyguard Romance

22. Endless Summer Series

23. Hero

24. The Heist: Monaco

25. The Phantom Agent

26. Most Wanted

27. Across the Void

28. Ship of Dreams

29. Desire and Decorum Series

30. A Courtesan of Rome

31. Distant Shores

32. The Duchess Affair

33. Murder at Homecoming

34. High School Series

35. My Two First Loves

36. Ride-or-die: A Bad Boy Romance

37. The Elementalists Series

38. HSS: Class Act Series

39. Immortal Desires Series

40. Wake the Dead

41. It Lives Series

42. Nightbound

44. Haunting of Braidwood Manor

45. Perfect Match Series

46. Foreign Affairs

47. Mother of the Year

48. Bachelorette Party

49. Kindred

50. Blades of Light and Shadow Series

51. The Cursed Heart Series

52. The Crown & Flame Series

53. Guinevere

54. Baby Bump Series

55. First Comes Love

56. A Very Scandalous Proposal

57. LoveHacks Series

58. Passport to Romance

59. Along Came Treble

60. Red Carpet Diaries Series

61. America’s Most Eligible Series

62. Hot Couture

63. Platinum

64. Slow Burn

65. Queen B Series

66. The Freshman Series

67. Wishful Thinking

68. Getaway Girls

69. The Deadliest Series

70. Crimes of Passion Series

71. Veil of Secrets

72. The Unexpected Heriess

73. Big Sky Country Series

74. Ms. Match

75. Save the Date

76. The Princess Swap

77. Home for the Holidays

78. Guarded

79. Hearts on Fire Series

80: Open Heart Series

Episode (So just like Chapters, keeping it close to my history. Because there is so many books)

1. The Mafia Bride

2. Eat Me Up

3. Flirting with the Villian

4. Barely Mine

5. Rule Breaker

6. Tempting Devil

7. Playing Princess

8. Blood Lust

9. Pregnant by a Vampire: The Curse

10. The Gamer Girl

11. Love Life

12. It’ll Be Our Secret

13. Feel Me

14. VAMPS & HUMANS

15. Behind His Mask

16. Unexpectedly Expecting

17. Kidnapped by a Prince

Journeys (This app specifically is more like the more stories you read the more books you’ll have access to. So, I’ll list the ones I have so far.)

1. Linda Brown Series

2. Recipe of Love

3. Don’t Forget Me

4. Love Lessons

5. Vampyra

6. #3SUM

My Candy Love (This app is pretty much one story but progressing with the MC life, which I love!)

1. My Candy Love: High School

2. My Candy Love: College Life

3. My Candy Love: Adulting

5. My Candy Love: Alternate Life

6. My Candy Love: Next Gen

Another World’s History (Wasn’t long since I discovered this app. Fairly new to me like some others that will be in this post but it’s great.)

1. My Name Is Hope

2. Neoxites: Child of Light

3. Codex of Consistency

4. Speculum

5. Parallels

6. Chimera

Forbidden Fruit (This app is very new. They only have 4 books so far. And I haven’t gotten around to reading any of them. So they are all on my TBR)

1. The Legacy of Rosefield

2. Undermind

3. Ghostpice

4. Daughter of the North Wind

League of Dreamers (Discovered this app not too long ago.)

1. Laws of the Beast

2. Wondering Spirit

3. Lullaby of Witches

4. Tablet of Isis

5. The Seal of Nostradammus

6. Silence of the Sea

7. Blooming Garden

8. Chronicles of Ark Dryden

9. Gates of Samhain

YourStoryLand (Discovered this app just recently, and it’s also fairly new as well. Most of the books are on my TBR and my not sure list)

1. Rock Wave

2. Audrey’s Dairy

3. Blue Abuss

4. Behind The Wall

5. The Lily of the Sands

6. City of Nightmares

Real Love (This app freshly discovered with 4 books. Haven’t started any of the books yet. Most are on the TBR.)

1. Look Around

2. Lame

3. The Codex of a Chess Player

4. Empire of Shadows

Seven Hearts Stories (This app recently made 2 years with 8 books. I honestly do like this app and have started reading one book from this app.)

1. The Deadly Biome

2. Illusion of Fame

3. Legend of the Celestials

4. The Era of Fatum

5. The Villain’s Last Wish

6. Mission Fortune

7. The Heart of Atlantean

8. Bride for a Vampire

TWISTMAX! (This app I freashly discovered just last week. Already started one book from there. And I got most on my TBR.)

1. Billionaire’s Revenge

2. Happily Ever After

3. The Boy Next Desk

4. Love & Scandal

5. Ace!

6. My Prince

7. Princess Escape

8. Touched by Love

9. The Prince’s Consultant

10. Threads of Desire

11. Love to Hate

12. All His Secrets

13. About Last Night

14. The Price of Polanco

15. Surprise Husband

16. Tutoring the Football Star

17. Freshman Flirt

18. Living With Guys

19. Undercover Lover

20. Broadway Baby

21. Forbidden Island

22. His Melody

23. Hometown Hookup

24. Lone Star Lovers

25. Go Fur Gold

26. Blood Red Moon

27. Stuck in the Past

28. A Powerful Choice

29. Handcuff Him!

30. Sultry on Set

31. Seduce Me, Senator

32. Chef’s Kiss

33. Dirty Work

34. Cold Case Chemistry

Dream Zone (Also discovered this last week. Haven’t started a story from here yet. So wee will leave all of the stories undecided.)

1. Hostel Story Series

2. Singles in Your Area

3. Half Human Series

4. Wildest Dreams Series

5. Behind the Counter Series

6. Teaching Undercover Series

7. Going Places Series

8. Incognito Mode Series

9. The Impossible Game Series

10. Devil’s Deal Series

11. Project Prometheus Series

12. Rogue Gang Series

13. Man for Hirer Series

14. Ubers Series

15. Time and Time Again Series

16. Colorblind Series

17. My Bloody Classmates Series

18. The Lookalikes Series

19. Honeywood Series

20. Family Business Series

21. Therapy Sessions Series

And the rest of the stories I read are single story apps which are…

1. Havenless

2. Dangerous Fellows

3. Killing Kiss

4. Henri’s Secret

5. Uncoven

I do plan to keep this list and update it with time. But I am happy I have this list so I can update as I go and keep ya’ll up to date. But this is going to be hella fun. Feel free to have this list if you are also using the same app as myself.

[helpmeimblorboing]

So, I was thinking - it seems unfair that I just keep all info on my projects to myself up until release day, right ?

But also I can’t exactly start posting about all of them. That would be chaos

So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m gonna make a poll - where y’all can vote on which project I talk about first, or most

If there are any specific topics from my projects you would like to see info on, my inbox is open - plus, you can comment it below this post

And for those who don’t know, these are my projects -

1) Crimson Redux - a fully original story about a world where supernatural forces, dictated by the influences of three godlike (and mostly unknown) entities - Alexithymia, Dysthymia and Dysphoria. Follow James Barker, the son of a serial killer, as he tries his best to navigate his way through this world, dealing with love, loss and action as he does

2) Lion’s Mane (WIP title) - This is just a retelling of the story of Alexander the Great and his lover Hephaestion

3) Take My Heart - A modern AU, and supremely angsty Patrochilles fanfic where Achilles is the heir to a massive corporation dissatisfied with his life, and Patroclus is the indie musical artist whose videos he comes across one day

This is actually an excerpt from it

4) Tearing Tides - The story of an immortal, an ancient child of Scythia, blessed with immortality by the Gods, following him through the years as he meets with ancient historical figures and fellow demigods alike, until he makes his way to modern day. Technically a PJO fanfic

5) Avatar Crew - An AU of The Magnus Archives where Slaughter Avatar Melanie King, Spiral Avatar Michael Distortion, Desolation Avatar Tim Stoker, Eye Avatar Jonathan Sims, and Web Avatar Annabelle Cane all get together to form the one big Avatar family, each member helping the others to feed, with occasional intercessions from a similarly symbiotic Hunt Avatar Daisy Tonner and Flesh Avatar Jared Hopworth.

At least, right up until Jon has a change of heart and leaves the Crew for less bloodstained pastures, rooming with Lonely Avatar Martin Blackwood

6) Sunlit Prince (WIP title) - A VERY barebones project, but basically a retelling of the Iliad and the stories preceding it from the perspective of Hector of Troy

7) Vine-wrapped Gold (WIP title) - equally barebones project, but basically a retelling of the Epic of Gilgamesh

8) Silver-sheen Traitor (WIP title) - perhaps the most barebones out of them all, but a slightly modernized (and very gay) retelling of the Bible from Judas’ perspective

Now, I can’t in good faith offer to post about the last three projects (mostly because I’m still trying to figure out what to do with them, and if I should even try) so please don’t comment about them

[gyorklady]

So, I did a thing...

This was inspired by the finale of Candela Obscura: Crimson Mirror as well as the references to Tide and Bone made during the chapter courtesy of Mr. Liam "Heartbreak Prince" "Little Shit" O'Brien. Credit also needs to go to my fellow Grimm family/Tide and Bone stan @inconmess and the many conversations we had brainstorming ideas and connections between the members of Crimson Mirror and Tide and Bone.

There may be a second part to this, there may not.

Cosmo Grimm did not like Fourth Pharos. 

He wasn’t alone; there weren’t many Candela agents that could say they liked spending time in Candela’s vault for dangerous magickal items and phenomena, and most tried to avoid going there when they could.  Cosmo was no exception.  Whenever one of his Circles came across an artifact that needed to be locked up or studied, he would leave it to their Lightkeeper or another Circle member to deliver it to the vault.  And he always took care not to risk significant exposure to Bleed, lest he end up in one of Pharos’ isolation rooms.  It wasn’t because of the artifacts or phenomena that Candela kept locked in their vault (though some of those did unnerve Cosmo, truth be told).  It wasn’t even his fear of Oscar being imprisoned in the vault someday. 

It was the gods-be-damned hallway. 

Cosmo stopped for what seemed like the fourth or fifth time as he slowly made his way down the hall, head leaning against the wall, eyes closed, waiting for his head to stop spinning and his stomach to stop churning.  He had never been motion sick as a child, but since he’d joined Candela the hallway of Fourth Pharos always affected him like this.  The fact that he was one of a handful of Candela agents who were similarly affected was small consolation, as was the fact that their scientists were “looking into” ways of alleviating it.  If it hadn’t been for the summons from Lightkeeper Zora Manning, telling him that the matter was urgent, Cosmo wouldn’t have come at all.   

Taking a deep breath, Cosmo sat back up, only to feel his chair jolt slightly as someone took the handles and began pushing him forward. “It’s only me, Cosmo,” he heard Zora’s voice from behind him. “I’m sorry; my meeting with the council ran late, otherwise I would have been there to meet you.” 

“It’s all right, Zora,” Cosmo assured her, keeping his eyes shut.  The hallway was easier for him to manage if he couldn’t see it.  With a weak chuckle he added, “I do think I’m getting better; I didn’t need to stop as often as I had to the last time I was here.” 

“I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t have sent for you if I didn’t think you were needed,” she apologized. 

Dread pooled in Cosmo’s stomach now, instead of nausea.  In all his time with Candela, nothing good had ever followed those words.  He grabbed the wheels of his chair to stop it and, when Zora let go in surprise, turned around to face her. “What happened?” he asked. 

Zora’s face crumpled, as though she was going to burst into tears, but then she took a deep breath to compose herself. “The Circle of the Wyrm perished during their excavation of Calinus’ vault in the ruins of Oldfaire. The Circle of the Crimson Mirror was assigned to check on them after we lost communication; they neutralized the threat that killed Wyrm, but at the cost of two of their own,” she told him. 

“Oh, no.  Oh, Zora, I am so sorry, child.” Cosmo closed his eyes and bowed his head out of grief for the Circle and the Candela agents that were lost.  Looking back up at Zora he asked, “Who survived?” 

“Leo Amicus, and Grimoria,” Zora answered as she resumed pushing Cosmo down the hall, “which is why I called you here.  Leo’s wounds require him to remain in Pharos for a while longer, but Grimoria has been cleared to be released.  I’d rather she not be alone during this time, so I was hoping that you would agree to let her stay at your chapter house for a few days.  At least until Leo is well enough to leave.” 

Cosmo looked up, over his shoulder, at Zora. “What about her guardians?” he asked.  As a Candela agent and a dealer in antiquities himself, Cosmo was not a fan of Oliver and Cynthia Fogg.  He knew that the couple had claimed guardianship over Grimoria after she was orphaned just so that they could exploit her gifts.  There had been many times, before she joined to Crimson Mirror, that Grimoria had sought refuge at the Antiquarian when the Foggs’ treatment became too much. Unfortunately, Grimoria’s misplaced sense of loyalty to them made it difficult for her friends to convince her to move out and find lodging elsewhere. 

“They are…otherwise occupied at the moment,” the Lightkeeper replied, and the corners of her mouth twitched upward in a smile. “When Grimoria hadn’t returned home after several days, the Foggs had no choice but to file a missing person's report with the Periphery.  Unfortunately for them, the officer that came to take their statement happened to be there when a dissatisfied customer showed up, accusing the Foggs of selling counterfeit goods – a customer with ties to the Primacy.  Cynthia and Oliver were taken to the nearest Periphery Station for questioning, and the last I heard they were occupying separate cells while their business was being investigated.” 

“Oh, dear.  What a shame,” Cosmo said without an ounce of sincerity.  There was a stifled chuckle from Zora as she continued to push him along.  Finally, they stopped at one of the many doors that lined the hallway.  Zora reached out and put her hand on the knob, flexed her fingers for a second, waited for another two, then opened the door. 

It was one of Pharos’ standard hospital rooms rather than an isolation room, so there was no antechamber to separate them from the patient inside.  Grimoria sat on the edge of the single bed in the room, her gaze focused on her folded hands in her lap.  Zora knocked on the door as she opened it to announce herself. “Grimoria?” she called. 

Hearing her name, the young medium looked up. “Hello, Zora,” she greeted her Lightkeeper with a wan smile. “How’s Leo doing today?” 

“I’ve been assured that Leo’s recovery is progressing nicely, but Dr. Aguilar isn’t ready to release him yet,” Zora answered. “You, on the other hand, are being released today.  Unfortunately, your guardians have been…detained by the Periphery for the foreseeable future, so you won’t be able to return to them.” 

“Oh.” Grimoria blinked in surprise. “Well, Leo did say that I could stay with him for as long as I wanted to.  I guess I can go back to his apartment.” 

“Yes, well… Be that as it may, I’d rather you not be alone during this time,” said Zora. “I’ve made arrangements for you to stay at another chapter house, at least until Leo is back on his feet.” 

“Where?” 

Recognizing his cue, Cosmo wheeled himself into the room. “At the Antiquarian, with Oscar and I,” he said.  Grimoria’s eyes widened imperceptibly when she saw him. “Ms. Manning told me a little bit of what happened to your Circle, child, and the loss of Mr. Trills and Dr. Lycoris.  I am so terribly sorry.” Grimoria sniffled, then suddenly the girl flung herself at Cosmo, wrapping her arms around his neck before bursting into tears.  Zora moved to pry her off, but Cosmo held up a hand to stop her. 

Yes, Cosmo Grimm hated Fourth Pharos.  But, for now, he had a reason to stay. 

[chndelure]

i used to have a twitter for liveblogging about webcomics but twitter is dying so i deleted it a few months back. that said, i miss having a webcomic posting account so badly, so webcomic Tumblr Sideblog now

main is @asexualzoro and i read smth like 200 comics week to week because i am normal

some favorite comics are Lavender Jack, Eleceed, Your Throne, Castoff, and Broccoli Soup!, but i’m reading way more

longer list of comics i like below cut (not the full list of ones im reading). in alphabetical order, w some more favorites bolded

anything for you

ask white pearl and steven

a spell for a smith

artificisouls

aurora

baby tyrant

the beast of hadingley hill

the blind prince

the botanist

blood bound

brain in a jar

castle swimmer

circuits and veins

city of blank

the crimson lady

cursed princess club

the curse of pirate's bay

damselfish in distress

daughter of 1000 faces

the dark lord's confession

dark zone

daybreak

divorcing my tyrant husband

denounce

desert duo vigilante au

doom breaker

DPS only!

the dragon tutor

dungeon death dispatch

eaternal nocturnal

elf & warrior

encore!

EQUALIZE

fictional skin

the first night with the duke

forever after

forgotten

for my derelict favorite

four leaf

fox fires

from a knight to a lady

garden club detective squad

go away romeo

gourmet hound

grand ma

guaba

guide to the land of monsters

heir's game

heroes of thantopolis

high class homos

high spirits neoma

hooky

honbarian

how to be a dragon

the hunt for the holy pearl

hybrid

i abdicate my title of empress

icy copper

i'm the grim reaper

i'm the queen in this life

ingress adventuring company

inhibit

i want to be a cute anime girl

jupiter men

the last dimension

like wind on a dry branch

the lone necromancer

lorena immaculate

lovebot

love me to death

lucid memories

lumine

magical mom

magic words

makeup remover

marionetta

miracle simulator

muted

#muted

my husband changes every night

my in laws are obsessed with me

mythos redone

my sweet archenemy

nevermore (originals)

nevermore (canvas)

nobody's library

nomads

not so shoujo love story

not your typical reincarnation story

omniscient reader

parallel city

the peculiar compendium of victor van wolfe

phantomarine

phototaxis

plague muffins

the princess and the pirate

the princess plot

prism world

purple hyacinth

questless

rain girl

rectify

the red archer

the remarried empress

rose tide rising

sable curse

school bus graveyard

seasons of blossom

the second lead syndrome

the secret knots

the secrets of soulford

seed

see you in my 19th life

SEIS

señorita cometa

seven days in silverglen

shootaround

sleepless domain

soil that binds us

soleil

somminum theatre

soul food

space boy

space princess

the spark in your eyes

spellward bound

spontaneous world shifting

suitor armor

survival diary

surviving romance

susuhara is a demon!

sweet home

swimming lessons for a mermaid

tiger, tiger

to knight the faithless

to the stars i love

trash belongs in the trash can!

the tyrant wants to be good

the uncommons

villainess for hire

warrior executioner

when the third wheel strikes back

where the heart is

widdershins

wintercircle

the wizard of cedel

the wrath & the dawn

yuna and kawachan

[mysticstarlightduck]

🔮Precognition: If your OC could get a glimpse of what was to come, would they want to know? Would it do them any good?

Thank you so much for the ask, @illarian-rambling! I'll go with some of the cast of The Forgotten Ones, and Of Starlight and Beasts!

🔮Precognition: If your OC could get a glimpse of what was to come, would they want to know? Would it do them any good?

The Forgotten Ones:

Arzhel - Yes, also yes. He would surely want to know what the future holds for him and his little brother since they've been looking for their father (who went missing unwillingly) for years. Knowing what was to come would also have been used for him to evade capture by the Inquisition and not be separated from Gael, though I'm not sure he would have been able to escape the royal Inquisitors on time if he tried, given they had magic.

Elodie - Maybe (but would be very confused), and Yes. She probably wouldn't know why such a chance - to see the future! - is being offered to a street urchin and pickpocket like her, but would probably be too curious to turn down the offer. Seeing what was to come would also have given her a chance to realize her friends/adoptive siblings would be in danger and prevent their disappearance.

Daragh - No (he would consider it foolish and a slight to the Fates), and Maybe (it could save him from the horrors he'll endure or be even worse by making him terrified ahead of time). He wouldn't accept the offer as he wants to be focused on the present as a good Crown Prince and doesn't want to slight the tides of the Fates. However, knowing what was to come may have given him a chance to save his family from being betrayed and prevented his capture by the sadistic Magister Emmerick, a known torturer. Knowing the future would also have given him a chance to be less of an emotionally constipated mess and have healed his relationship with his estranged sister, Vivaldah, before being driven apart even more by the war.

Of Starlight and Beasts

Corah - YES, and Maybe. Yes to the first question because Corah is a very curious girl and is someone who will accept any advantages she can get in the face of the challenges ahead. Maybe because... well knowing that the person who will brutally betray her and her friends in the final act of the book is none other than her Mother, who has been absent for more than a decade - who abandoned Corah and her Father when Corah was only six years old and never came back - might make her fears and misbeliefs even worse and might even hurt her ability to fight against the Crimson Queen's plans.

Arammys - Yes, and Maybe. Arammys would definitely want to know what is in store for him in the future, especially if he will be able to regain his stolen memories or not. But finding out exactly what's in store for him in the future and exactly how big of a mess they'll be thrust into may make him even more insecure.

Eidan - Eh. He probably wouldn't care much to learn about the future. As he is already running from his past and the horrors that haunt him in it, I don't think he would be very interested in learning about his future. As for whether or not it would do him any good? I'm not sure, because so much happens to him throughout the story, and finding out would be pretty messy lmao.

[skxrbrand]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

The Days of Wargwroth are designated anniversaries of particularly Blood Battles that have taken place in the mortal realm, each drop of blood being spilled for the Blood Lord Khorne. Followers of Khorne do not have holy days that they observe and even the Wargwroth is not acknowledged by all Khornates.

Battle of the Blood River

The Battle of the Blood River was fought by the Gorehunt Tribe, a group of Northmen numbering less than one hundred strong. They resolved to dedicate skulls from far off lands to their master, Khorne, and found themselves in the sandy kingdoms of Araby. Despite being solidly outnumbered and eventually killed to a man, the Gorehunt Tribe reaped a startling tally and the literal Crimson River created in their wake persists to this day. It is said that every warrior from the Gorehunt Tribe was granted daemonhood at death; the chieftain as an infernal prince of chaos and each man and woman who fought under him as Bloodletters of Khorne.

The Crimson River is a common site of Pilgrimage for many Khornate Tribes, particularly those who claim descent from that now-extinct tribe of Norscans. It is a time of terror for the Arabyans, as Khornate Warriors bring bloody tributes of skulls and bodies to contribute to the red river.

The Schwarzmarsch

Schwarzmarsch ( "Black March" ) is the name given to another Khornate Pilgrimage undertaken by those tribes boasting of ancient ties to the legendary Schwarzvolf Norscans, once led by Valkia, consort of Khorne. It is also called the Volfweg ( "Wolf Walk" ) and involves the gifting of a Chaos Champion's skull ( ideally a Slaaneshi ) directly to Khorne by placing said trophy on the topmost step of his kingdom. This is a grueling expedition in which the leader and their chosen battle-brethren will have to fight monster, beastmen, daemons and anything else lurking in the Chaos Waste to eat them.

Eight of the tribe's strongest warriors are selected to acquire said skull and whoever returns first with the prize leads the quest. This is one noted area in which shield-maidens are given preference over male warriors (provided she has a child to replace her in the event of her death) and women are encouraged to participate. Commonly, it is a Shield-maiden who leads this expedition to the steps of Khorne's Kingdom.

Successful ventures are nearly always pyrrhic, but those stalwart souls who survive return with Khorne's blessing in the form of his mark and no few mutations. They enjoy great authority in their given tribe. Some survivors claim to have met the Gorequeen in person and bear her personal rune upon their armor, weapons, or very flesh.

Tzeen'knacht

Tzeen'knacht is the most widespread Day of Wargwroth, practiced by mortals and daemons. It is said to come straight from the bowels of Realm of Chaos itself, from Khorne's own Kingdom; a timeless tradition of hunting and killing sorcerers, particularly those who worship Tzeentch. Tzeen'nacht is the name given to the event that occured immediately after Khorne's decree against the use of cast magic. Those Khornates who were unwilling to adapt to a life of only blades, spears, and axes did glorious battle with those who were. Many defected to Tzeentch, the God of Liars and Turncoats happily accepting these Traitors into his legions.

Tzeen'nacht was not only the largest civil war in Khornate history, it was a concerted effort by Khorne's forces to hunt down the traitors from Khorne's army. In addition to his decree, the Blood God wrangled the Blood Wolves of his realm and from the first Flesh Hounds, bane of all wizards and sorcerors. These who loosed in a great tide of beasts through the Realm of Chaos and many such turncoats were dragged howling and screeching to the foot of his Brass Throne.

In the modern day, those cultists and daemons of Khorne open gates to the Realm of Chaos and call the Blood Hunt, murdering anything with arcane capabilities.