#queen of hearts burns king's landing to the ground

[english-history-trip]

Dan Meth is definitely the pen name you'd come up with on meth.

One of my favorite hobbies is thinking about the fucked up implications of this fantasy world map my parents got me for christmas

[Image ID: photo of a map. On the left side of the map is Middle Earth, with the Shire and Mordor labeled. To the direct right of Mordor is Whoville.]

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Will Never Leave You (Daemon x Reader)

I think this more a love letter to Rhaenyra than anything but I’m really proud of this one cause I adore writing characters like this, I hope you guys enjoy it

Rhaenyra adored her mother since she drew her first breath, yet the woman she admired the most and desperately seemed her nod of approval was her beloved aunt (y/n) Targaryen, the middle child of prince Baelon and princess Alyssa, the seat between the brothers suited her, (y/n) had the good heart and the bright mind of her older brother that went hand in hand with the wild spirit and the constant need to protect the ones she called her own that she passed down to Daemon.

(Y/n) had been by Rhaenyras side when she needed her the most, wrapping her arms around the shaking frame of the young princess burying her face at the crook of (y/n)s neck.

“Dracarys”

Even though the dragon was not (y/n)s, beautiful Syrax complied whilst Rhaenyra broke down at the arms of her aunt, (y/n) ran her fingers through Rhaenyras long hair to offer her comfort as she whispered the lullaby she would sing to her when she was little.

She had also been the one to almost harass her beloved brother and king to name Rhaenyra his heir.

“As much as I love my lord husband, he is not fit to lead, the weight of the realm will crush him until he bursts into flames, we can prevent this, you can prevent this”

“And name Rhaenyra my heir? A queen has not sat the iron throne”

“Why not name the princess your heir? She is the second born”

Otto had questioned, (y/n) side eyed the man before she looked down to collect her thoughts, the wound of her brothers digging their claws on that piece of metal had brought such mental combat between them, turning blood against one another, if she had taken a go at them then all efforts for a harmonious family would have gone to war ages ago.

“I am afraid it is too late for me to claim what could have been or some could argue “should have been” but the time is just right for my niece, Rhaenyra is the result of the love you shared with the late queen Aemma, you have already wronged her, do not turn your back on the only thing you have left of her”

(Y/n) and Daemon had wed a fortnight after Viserys and Aemma, their wedlock’s were as similar as the sun with the moon, Daemon and (y/n) mirrored one another, their fire burned bright and their thick skulls could cause the the strongest storm to lash, still at the end of the day they ended up in each others arms, holding each other tight and whispering words of love and admiration.

(Y/n) was the only one that could keep Daemon on a leash, staying by his side as he raged for the “disrespect” their brother had shown, in a delicate manner (y/n) would always grab his hand and bring it up to her cheek to ground him.

“I love you and your bravery, however I do despise when you let your rage overtake everything that’s good in you, let me fix this for you”

Daemon would always take her in his arms and kiss her lips with all the might he could master. (Y/n) was his life line, her eyes were like a much needed breath after a deep dive, her smile resembled the feeling of the brisk air on the early hours of a summer day, her hair was as soft as a birds feather as it brushed on his skin, and her touch, oh that touch of hers…like a soothing balm on Daemons wounded heart.

“What is the matter, my love?”

“We must fly to kings landing by the morrow”

“Has something happened?”

“Lucerys��s claim is at question by Vaemond, Lord Corlys has not even passed and they are already circling around Rhaenyra like crows”

(Y/n) half mumbled half explained whilst her fingers rubbed circles on her temples, (y/n) had never voiced it still a pang of guilt ate her soul as slow as the carnivores ate their dead prey whenever she exchanged letters with Rhaenyra, she gave up on her, she left her alone to fight against those Hightowers, withering away as the bastards started to tighten the rope around the heiress’s neck.

Daemon puffed out a breath, the conversation had always been the same, (y/n) would often bring up her concerns over Rhaenyras well being, asking Daemon if mayhaps they made a mistake by leaving her, fabricating elaborate scenarios of how things could have been different.

With caution Daemon approached his lady wife and once he reached her he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles on her aching shoulders as she slouched back and a grunt of pleasure left her, the flames from the fireplace licking her face in such a complimenting light, had he not touched her he could assume she was just an extremely accurate portrait from the hands of an exceptionally gifted artist.

“Rhaenyra is strong, she will overcome this”

“Rhaenyra is alone, our brother is barely able to make a sentence, she cannot stand alone at court”

“And what do you think our presence will do? We have been cast away for far too long, no one will pay attention to what we have to say on the matter, besides, driftmark is none of our responsibility”

After the birth of their first born daughter Enora Daemon and (y/n) decided to leave kings landing and reside in Pentos, granting protection with their dragons they were gifted with land and lived like the Targaryens only knew how to live.

“It is under the Targaryen rule, our closests bond to old Valyria”

“Dragons are our bond, which we have our own”

(Y/n) stood up from her chair to face her lord husband, fury that intertwined with confusion painted across her face as her eyebrows furrowed and her lips half open from the shock that his dismiss had caused.

Daemon resented when they fought, he did not enjoy his love being cross with him, though he loved a battle he would hang on dear life on anything and say whatever to make her curl up in his arms with content.

“You do not want to come with me” (y/n) stated

“I do not believe we will change anything”

“You believe that? Out of all I thought you would be the one to get on your dragon the fastest”

“You are with child, our other children are happy here, must we indulge in that mess?”

“That mess? Our brother has been crippled, our niece tortured by the Hightower and now she asks for our aid and you think I will just ignore it”

“You are emotional”

“I am, and proud of it, I will fly to kings landing with my children, you can choose to stay and hide behind our thick and tall walls of this castle. I will not leave our legacy, our blood, to slowly perish. It is your decision at the end of the day”

Daemon puffed out of breath before he reached for (y/n)s arms to which (y/n) stepped back to avoid, her eyes that spewed fire starring right into his soul.

(Y/n) was the diplomat out of the pair, one can imagine the surprise of her stubbornness when it came to this, which also revealed how important this was for (y/n).

“You mustn’t get upset in your condition”

“That is something you should remember, I was fine until I saw that the years turned you into a coward”

(Y/n) spat inches away from his face, with hurried and swift motions she intentionally bumped his shoulder as she made her exit of their chamber, Daemon did not catch a wink of sleep, (y/n) had never slept at another chamber separately since they had wed.

As the sun started to shyly make its descent (y/n) was assisting her three children on their dragons for their journey to kings landing.

“Hold on”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder to find her husband with his dragon walking towards them, she had to admit that leaving without him would have costed her a great deal, she wanted him by her side, to help her, to hold her, to have her.

“What made you change your mind?”

“My astonishing devotion to you and your stubbornness, I won’t leave you alone with the wolves”

Daemon reassured her before he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a smile making its way to (y/n)s lips as she gazed at him with love, that sparkle of joy was what kept Daemon alive, he would risk anything to see her well.

A giggle that came from their youngest children interrupted their sweet moment, Daemon and (y/n) looked up as the twins sat on their dragons, admiring the deep affection that oozed out of their parents, Daemon only winked at his children in response and turned back to his lady wife.

“Allow me dearest”

A shriek was heard when Daemon swiped the princess off her feet and lifted her up at her green dragon Zephyr. The family landed unexpectedly since they had not given any information to their visit, Otto and Alicent were fuming upon their arrival, the pair would stir the pot and cause chaos all in the princesses name, Otto was certain of it.

However no one could expect the ever defiant (y/n) holding Viserys by his right arm and the stoic prince Daemon holding the king by the left.

“King Viserys of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the andals, and the rhoynar and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, with princess (y/n) Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen”

Time stood still as they entered the throne room, (y/n) had persisted on visiting her brother, encouraging him to stand and back Rhaenyras claim, begging him to find his strength and sit on the iron throne.

“I will sit the throne today”

Viserys was able to say to Otto who only bowed his head and stepped aside. When (y/n) gently assisted her brother to sit comfortably his crown managed to move and fall, Daemon was the one that caught it and placed it back on Viserys head. As the pair took a step back (y/n) was the first to curtsy in front of him.

“My king”

She whispered before she smiled, Viserys managed to get a hold of her hand and bring it up to his deformed lips, as cold and slimy the weird texture of his lips left on her hand (y/n) looked back on that memory until the end of her days, as many times as they fought (y/n) held a spot for Viserys, one of loyalty and respect.

Daemon snaked his arm around her waist as they went down the steps and took their place next to a baffled and ecstatic Rhaenyra, (y/n) subtly nodded and side eyed Rhaenyra letting her know she is her for her.

As Viserys reaffirmed Lucerys claim and Rhaenys announced the betrothal of Baela and Rhaena (y/n) was ready to turn and hug her dear niece when Vaemond stepped in front of the king, interrupting the glorious moment.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir, don’t you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon, No, I will not allow it”

“Allow it? I do not think anyone hear asked for your opinion Ser…. Apologies I haven’t been at court in so long, what is your name?”

(Y/n)s words sliced through Vaemond like Valyrian steel and Rhaenyra struggled to hide her chuckle, Daemon stood proudly by her side though his grip tightened around her waist when Vaemonds eyes fell on her for a brief moment before he pointed to Lucerys.

“THAT! is no true Velaryon and certainly not a nephew of mine”

Rhaenyra as the mother that she is took a step forward to stand closer to Vaemond and in front of Lucerys, what no one had seen was an important question that (y/n) had whispered at her husband.

“Which side is your sword on today?”

“Go to your chambers, you’ve said enough”

“Lucerys is my true born grandson and you are no more than the second son of drift mark”

“You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine, my house survived the doom”

“To which you owe it to much greater men than you Vaemond, men that knew their place and played their part in history, something that you refuse to do”

“And you think that you can tell me what my place is? Your brother skipped over you and gave the name of heir to your niece, the gods know what you have done to make him skip over you and your… husband, my name survived and gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this”

“Say it, say it”

Daemon antagonised the man, (y/n) assumed her position and slipped away from Daemons grip, her hand gliding from his back all the way down to his sword, dark sister, and pulled it out the sound of metal brushing against its scabbard was enough to make (y/n) grind her teeth in annoyance, thankfully no one seemed to pay attention to what she was up to.

Except Daemon whom had already a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he internally thanked whoever blessed him to change his mind and was now going to be a witness on this wonderful event and as he viewed it “important milestone” in his lady wife’s life.

Vaemond was caught in his own fury and sense of entitlement to see his end coming, even if he had seen (y/n) with a sword he would pay her no mind, a man of such ignorance wouldn’t feel threaten by a woman with a swollen belly or any woman for that matter.

“Her children are BASTARDS and she.is.a.whore”

“I will have your tongue for that”

Daemon watched with pride as his wife lifted the sword and with one clean slice Vaemonds head was cut right above his tongue. Enora was taken aback by her mothers acts while her two siblings Alastor and Aelia hid behind their fathers legs to avoid witnessing the gruesome sight of the corpse at such a young age.

(Y/n) stood still as the sword touched the ground to support her, glaring down at the man that had so much to say, a man that thought himself as indestructible and yet he laid on the cold floor as his blood gushed out of him and pooled on the ground.

“He can keep his tongue, to explain his treachery to the gods”

“Disarm her”

Otto commanded as his voice boomed through the throne room like a proper king that would command his kings guards to obviously attack (y/n), though the real king -Viserys- had just opened his mouth to stop this when Daemon took only a step forward.

“Don’t you dare”

Daemon warned them, in a rather surprisingly composed way for the situation Daemon approached her and took the sword from her, wiping it away at his clothes lazily before he placed it back on its original spot, his hand brushed a few strands of hair that had moved and let it glide behind her shoulder, he preferred it when her hair was out of her face, so he can fully take in her beauty.

(Y/n) was seen smiling brightly, basking in her accomplishment that was so grotesque that some reported that a numerous ladies that had been witnesses had fainted or vomited at the sight.

“You must rest, my love”

“Before that”

(Y/n) proclaimed, she left her husbands side momentarily only to stand before Rhaenyra, her hands going up to cup her nieces cheeks and place a kiss on top of the heiress head, a gesture that held such affection and compassion, (y/n) had Rhaenyra in her heart and her mind as her own daughter, images of the princess running careless on the grass and finding refuge in (y/n)s hug flashed before (y/n)s eyes.

“My dear niece”

“(Y/n)” Rhaenyra breathed out

“I will never leave you, ever”

Requests are open!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Misunderstanding

Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, possessive / jealous Thorin, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, established relationship, table sex

Word Count: 1.5k

A misunderstanding gives Thorin cause to remind you that you're his.

A/N: For @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“My queen, how should we allocate these funds?”

You glance at the parchment and frown. With Erebor reclaimed, reconstruction has begun, but with it comes all sorts of complications and roadblocks. Most of Erebor needs serious repair and attention. The majority of the remaining population lives outside, something that Thorin is increasingly growing upset about. He wants his people back home, and that is admirable, but with Smaug previously making a home here, the structural integrity of some portions of Erebor are in question.

Sighing, you consider all the options before answering. “Let us focus on residential areas for these. When those spaces are suitable for habitation, we can begin moving people out of tents and into homes. That is priority.”

“Of course, my queen.” The aging dwarven men around you bow deeply, many of their long, gray beards brushing the ground.

As they straighten, the door to your private study bursts open. Thorin stands in the doorway. There is a fire in his gaze and his chest heaves as if he’s just run a mile. It’s startling. He’s upset, but you’re not sure why.

Everyone around you turns and bows toward their king.

Thorin’s gaze passes over each of them before landing on you. He strides into the room, purpose in every step.

“Leave us,” he commands, his voice ringing loud and clear in the room.

They all bow a second time before quickly collecting their things and making a swift exit. Thorin approaches, and you move toward him, reaching out once the last of them have closed the door behind them.

“Thorin—”

Your husband reaches for you, pulls you in by the waist until you’re pressed up against him. His hand is on the back of your neck, the small hairs catch in his fingers as Thorin slowly arches your throat.

The look of hunger in his eyes is different. He wants you—needs you, but there is something else swirling there, lingering in his heart, making you question this sudden intensity.

“I need to kiss you,” he says, and it’s almost a groan.

“My lips are right here,” you reply with a soft giggle. “You may always kiss me whenever you wish.”

Thorin shakes his head slowly. “I’m not talking about your mouth.” Thorin leans in, his lips almost brushing yours, but his free hand grabs at your upper thigh, indicating where Thorin is wanting to put this mouth.

“Oh,” is all you say in surprise.

The hand around your neck slides away, and then Thorin is gripping your hips, moving to the undersides of your thighs to lift you off the stone floor. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Thorin deposits you on a nearby table.

While he is careful with you, there is an underlying harshness you notice in his gaze. That fire from earlier is still there. It’s like Thorin needs to punish you, or consume you, make you bend to him until you’re nothing but a perfect, pliant thing under his hands. The idea of it warms you between your legs. Your thighs rub together and there is no hiding how slick you are.

Thorin pushes your legs apart and steps between them. He starts at your knees, then your thighs, hips, and up the sides of your body until his hands grip the front of your dress.

“I’m feeling impatient,” he says, before putting all his strength behind his next movement.

With two quick jerks, Thorin rips the front of your bodice open, tearing the dress cleanly in two. Before you can even utter a verbal protest, Thorin’s lips are pressing against yours in a demanding, hungry kiss.

“I’ll buy you more,” he murmurs before his hands return to your body, this time caressing bare thigh. His touch is a forge fire, and you burn, surrendering to him as you begin to fall back against the table, legs widening as he settles between them.

You moan as Thorin kisses his way up your leg and to the inside of your thigh. Every brush of his lips sends pulses of heat from his mouth to your pussy.

“Please,” you whimper as Thorin’s lips brush against the spot that’s aching for his touch. “Please.”

“Tell me,” he says, the pad of his thumb parting you. “Is this for me?”

“Yes,” you reply as you hear just how wet you are.

“Only me?”

“Yes,” you say again, voice nearly breaking as he strokes over you.

Thorin’s hands grip your hips and tug you closer to the edge of the table. Then he pushes your legs wide open until the insides of your thighs feel stretched. He drags his fingertips through your wetness.

Your soft moan becomes a strangled gasp as he licks a wide stripe up your sex. Mewling with pleasure, you grab at him, one hand tugging on the neckline of his tunic, the other digging against the table.

“Delicious,” he groans. The tip of his tongue circles your clit, and without thinking, you pull hard on him, ripping some of the fabric.

His hand snatches your wrist. Thorin guides it down to the side of your thigh. Then, he grabs the other one. Does the same. With one hand, Thorin keeps your hands from straying. His grip is unyielding, and while you tug a bit, you meet firm resistance.

Thorin shakes his head. Then his head dips back between your legs, and you’re completely lost to him. Your eyelids flutter shut as he sucks your clit and traces around your entrance with a free finger. Then he presses in, and you groan loudly.

“Mine?”

“Yours.”

Thorin is inserting a second finger, pumping them in and out of you as his tongue laps at your clit. The coiling tension within your core twists tighter with every drag of his fingers and each swipe of his tongue.

Thorin curls his fingers and your back arches off the table. You feel his grin, and then he stays the course, working you at that perfect pace until you fall apart around him, crying out his name, the sound echoing around the room.

Thorin retreats but he does not back away. Instead, his mouth is on your bare skin, biting and sucking, leaving marks behind as he trails up your body. They are harsh, demanding, possessive marks of ownership. Rarely is Thorin ever like this, but he does not stop until he makes it to your mouth, sliding his tongue inside so that you can taste yourself.

This lingering moment is short. The second Thorin breaks the kiss, he undoes the front of his buckle, and the two of you are desperately pushing it away.

When Thorin slides in, you both moan loudly. You fall back against the table, clinging to his arms as he sets a pounding, steady pace that rocks the table. Each thrust makes the wood vibrate at the legs scrape across the stone floor. This a frenzied mating. A dire need. Whatever has possessed Thorin makes him hungry for you in a way you’ve rarely seen him.

His next thrust hits deep, and the friction is intense, pulling the coil tighter again until you’re keening, leaning up from the table as your body squeezes around him. That orgasm breaks him. His resolve snaps, and then you’re trapped beneath him, your fingernails digging into his skin as Thorin takes for himself.

He groans, leans forward, forehead resting against your own as he finishes. You feel it pooling within you, threatening to escape the moment he pulls away.

“I heard that you spent most of the day with a man,” murmurs Thorin, his nose lightly brushing against yours.

The middle of your brow scrunches in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why would that upset you?”

“It was reported to me that the relationship seemed…close.”

Frowning, you think back to the events of the day. You consider every place you visited and everyone you talked to. As you shuffle through all the possibilities, you pause on one, and then laugh so hard you snort.

“What?” he asks, drawing back slightly.

“Did the person reporting on me mention that man was my older brother?”

The tops of Thorin’s cheeks turn a bright red. “They—no. They failed to mention that.”

While part of you is annoyed that Thorin would immediately gravitate toward the worst, you also know that he’s under immense stress, the kind that might tear away and chip at his own confidence.

“Next time, when someone tells you something like that again, what are going to do?”

“Talk to you first,” he replies, his cheeks growing even redder.

“Although, I did like this.” You emphasize your meaning by rolling your hips, moving along his softening length. “Perhaps I should be a little friendly with an actual stranger. What will that get me?” you tease.

Thorin drags you off the table and into his arms. “That’ll get you bent over the nearest surface.”

“Is that a promise, my king?”

“Willing to test me?”

You grin, knowing that you certainly will.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

I wanted to ask, what would it be like if Fischl had an S/O who not only plays along with her, but is just as much as a Chuunibyou as her? I'd kinda like to see her reaction to that. Maybe see what the other Mondstadt folks think as well? Oh, and bonus points if the S/O does the whole Shining Finger thing. from Gundam. That "this hand of mine glows with an awesome powerrr!" thing.

(Genshin Impact/Honkai: Star Rail)

Fischl, Ayaka, Rosaria, Eula, Furina, Shinobu, Bronya, and Seele with a very dramatic S/O

YOU ACTIVATED MY SLEEPER AGENT KEYWORDS, YOU MENTIONED GUNDAM, AND SPECIFICALLY G GUNDAM

Fischl's eyes seemed to gleam when she first realized that her S/O not only indulged her antics, but even joined her!

Their title was almost as impressive as her own, 'The King/Queen of Hearts'!

(Fischl) "Tell me dear, S/O, how can the fabled 'King/Queen of Hearts' measure up to the Prinzessin der Verurteilung?"

S/O clenched their fist and raised it in front of their chest triumphantly.

(S/O) "You may have your electric arrows, but I have these GOLDEN FINGERS!"

Oz on the other hand was completely suffering.

Well, at least he didn't have to translate for S/O, they were completely blunt and to the point, unlike his master.

Fischl did adore S/O for how brave and caring they were, but it was during a battle that made her heart first skip a beat.

(S/O) "HERE I GO!-"

S/O's pyro vision flared up as their fists began glowing a flaming gold, catching both Oz and Fischl by surprise.

(Fischl) "W-What?! S/O was serious with knowing an ultimate technique?!"

(Oz) "I thought they were in a similar boat to you, mein Fräulein-"

(S/O) "THIS HAND OF MINE IS BURNING RED! IT'S LOUD ROAR TELLS ME TO GRASP VICTORY!"

They rushed past Fischl and Oz, who could only watch in awe.

(S/O) "ERUPTING, BURNING...FIIINGEEEEERRRR!"

Their fist immediately crashed through a Ruin Guard (somehow), and lifted them off the ground with one arm.

(S/O) "AND NOW, HEAT END!"

The Ruin Guard exploded violently afterwards, with S/O's fist going back to normal.

(Oz) "Wow, really?"

(Fischl) THAT IS SO COOL! "...Ahem, a fine display, dear S/O."

Everyone in Mondstadt thought that Fischl had just found another roleplayer that took things way too seriously and were somewhat dreading talking to them.

Only to realize S/O wasn't doing a bit, despite the fact they were just as dramatic as her.

They were just insane.

Ayaka knew her S/O was a bit on the...flashy side, to put it gently.

They screamed all their attack names at the top of their lungs, yet she knew no one was better and hand to hand combat than they were. Especially when they began actually glowing red or ignited into flames.

All that did not matter terribly much to Ayaka. S/O was someone she loved, for their caring and valiant nature.

But, someone like S/O was something she had never expected to face, and they both drove her insane, and yet brought contrasting calmness to her life.

Nothing however would ever compare to meeting S/O's master for the first time.

Ayaka and S/O were travelling down the streets of Inazuma, until everyone, including the guards were watching someone coming down the street.

(Ayaka) "...Is...that person standing on their horse?"

Suddenly, S/O's eyes widened, and rushed through the crowd, unintentionally leaving Ayaka behind. She quickly followed behind and saw a man standing perfectly on the horse as it trotted along the streets of Inazuma, arms crossed and an expression that was razor focused.

(S/O) "MASTER!"

The man's head turned to S/O, and both of them exchanged a glance before Ayaka saw their master leap off the horse, extending a fist as they landed perfectly in front of them.

(Strange Man) "Answer me, S/O! THE SCHOOL OF THE UNDEFEATED OF THE EAST!"

S/O knelt down as they struck a dramatic pose, answering their master.

(S/O) "THE WINDS OF THE KING!"

In the middle of the city, they began exchanging rapid punches that traded perfectly blow for blow, so fast that even Ayaka struggled to keep track of.

(Strange Man) "ZENSHIN!"

(S/O) "KEIRETSU!"

(Both) "TEMPA KYOURAN!"

Both their fists collided before their other arms extended outwards in sync, screaming once again.

(Both) "LOOK! THE EAST, IS BUUUURRNING REEEED!"

Ayaka watched with a strange mixture of horror, second-hand embarrassment, admiration, and jealousy.

(Ayaka) ...I-Is it possible for S/O to teach me how to do that too...?

When Rosaria first met S/O, she thought they were going to be a troublemaker.

She was correct, but they fought to keep Mondstadt safe as much as she did.

But while she did it with subtlety, S/O grabbed subtlety with their literal shining golden fingers, and made it violently explode, all while screaming their attack.

The first time she had watched S/O perform their "Shining Finger" attack on a treasure hoarder, she stood there completely slackjawed.

(Rosaria) "...Oh my Bratabos, you're completely serious."

Rosaria thought S/O was doing some kind of bit like this 'Fischl' character she had heard about.

No, they were just that dramatic for no real apparent reason, and they had the strength to back their nonsense up.

She even doubted that herself could take S/O in a straight fight.

In a strange way, it attracted her to them. They were clearly not afraid of what anyone thought of them, only caring if the people they loved were safe. She had respect for that.

But...why were they like this?

They couldn't just defeat their enemies normally, no, they HAD to explode. Every single one of them.

Sometimes S/O's Vision wasn't even active, she would just see them explode after they had shouted "HEAT END!".

(Rosaria) "You are both the best and the worst person I know of to clean up a mess of bandits discreetly."

(S/O) "Hah! The King/Queen of Hearts doesn't need to fight discreetly! I only fight with my fists!"

Honestly, as strange as this was, she also found it to be the funniest thing in the world. Maybe there SHOULD be more people like S/O and Fischl after all.

Eula couldn't exactly call anyone out for being "flashy".

But her S/O took that word to a whole new level. Especially with their manner of speech.

It made Eula look polite in comparison. S/O appeared to be playing the bit of a mysterious, strong, and rude warrior who only thought with their fists.

She had seen them become soft and loving, hell they were a couple, she knows they can become serious.

But after watching them fight a few times, she's starting to believe that S/O wasn't doing a bit like herself, and she did not know how to feel about that.

Eula watched S/O pull out a sword made of pure flames from their hands, wielding it in both their palms.

(S/O) "THIS HAND OF MINE GLOWS WITH AN AWESOME POWER! IT'S BURNING GRIP TELLS ME TO DEFEAT YOU!"

S/O slashed apart the Ruin Hunter with every swing, scorching the grass ablaze with their passion.

(S/O) "TAKE THIS! MY LOVE, MY ANGER, AND ALL OF MY SORROW! SHINING FINGER SWOOOOOOORD!"

With one final slash, the Ruin Hunter was split in half, with S/O leaping back as their pyro vision died down slowly.

Honestly, Eula didn't know if she should be impressed, cringing, or not be thinking that was one of the coolest things she had ever seen.

Probably a mixture of all three.

Honestly? Furina kind of gets it.

You spend so long doing a bit, it kind of becomes a part of you.

That being said, Furina isn't entirely sure if S/O's behavior was entirely theatrics.

But that's fine! It's a part of them after all, not like she had any room to criticize.

Whenever S/O wasn't in the room, she would be clenching her fists and throwing punches in the air, mimicking their tone.

(Furina) "How did they say it...? Ah, right! This hand of mine glows with an awesome power!"

Furina giggled as she said it out loud before putting on a 'serious expression' frowning as she concentrated.

(Furina) "It's loud roar tells me to grasp victory! SHINING, FIINGEEER!" giggle

As she turned to face the door, she nearly leapt out of her skin to see S/O watching her with a highly unamused face.

(Furina) "GAH! S-S/O! How long were you-"

(S/O) "The School of Master Asia cannot be replicated by simply mimicking my actions, Furina. It comes from within!"

Furina pouted a little.

(Furina) "It doesn't look that different from theatre, S/O! You're as dramatic as I am!"

(S/O) "Dramatic? Don't be absurd, I'm completely-"

(Furina) "You are not telling me you can say all that with a straight face every single time!"

(S/O) "...Can you not?"

...Either S/O was the best actor, or they lacked the self awareness that she (kinda) had.

Oh good Archons, please no.

Shinobu already had to reign in Itto and the others, now her lover was adding fuel to the fire.

Or more like an explosion to it.

S/O had taught Itto and the other members of the Arataki gang their strange dances.

Now instead of dealing with one, she had to deal with seven other idiots shouting about Erupting Burning Fingers.

(Shinobu) "S/O, you're a terrible influence."

(S/O) "Huh? What are you-"

(Shinobu) "Sara had just told me that Itto and the others were making a ruckus in the public square."

(S/O) "What ruckus can the dances my master and I-"

(Shinobu) "They're trying to match the speed of you and Master Asia, but end up only punching themselves in the face."

(S/O) "Hah! Looks like I need to train them harder-"

(Shinobu) "S/O."

S/O sighed loudly, adjusting their red headband.

(S/O) "Fine. I'll reign them in myself."

Personally, she thinks their nature is...strange, to put it mildly.

She has no idea how S/O and their master became so eccentric, but they meant as well as she and the others did so...Not too much harm could be done?

And admittedly, she did find it really cool that S/O's vision could make things explode in such a spectacular fashion.

But why did so many people in her life have to have some kind of screw loose with them?

There was only one word that could come to Bronya's mind watching S/O in action.

(Bronya) "What?"

She had been trained all her life to be noble, courteous, and elegant.

And here came S/O with all the elegance of a cannon.

S/O fought inside a machine that mimicked their actions 1 to 1. While the suit itself was strong, it was S/O who made it surpass the limits.

Their knowledge on martial arts was unsurpassed by anyone she had ever known.

But in a strange way, it made Bronya admire them. They wore their heart on their sleeve, with no one telling them how to live. That was really admirable.

And secretly, she found herself quoting S/O many times as she was training with her weapons. Much to her amusement and horror.

But the first time she watched them in action could not compare to anything.

The machine's wings flared out and formed an energy halo, with S/O's hand becoming a blinding fiery light.

Their chest opened up and revealed a large glowing orb, with the symbol of the King/Queen of hearts flashing in front of it.

Before Bronya could even question what S/O was doing, she watched them fly past all the Silvermane guards and save them by driving their robotic fist into the enemy.

(S/O) "BURNING, FIIIIINGEEEER!"

On command, the creature exploded into a brilliant light, making everyone recoil as their enemies fled in terror.

S/O turned around, their machine crossing its arms and standing dramatically on top of a hill, staring down at everyone.

(S/O) "Behold, THE SCHOOL OF MASTER ASIA! THE UNDEFEATED SCHOOL OF THE EAST!"

(Silvermane Guard) "...O-Okay...?"

Bronya had much of the same reaction, but a slight blush overtook her cheeks.

(Bronya) "That was...incredible!"

(Silvermane Guard) "Ma'am?"

(Bronya) "A-AHEM! Men, we continue onwards! Remember our training, and show that we are not to be surpassed!"

It was completely stupid how S/O shouted their moves but...damn, if it wasn't effective.

Seele sighs whenever she watches S/O in action.

Their moves were completely unnecessary, way too flashy, and the thing that annoyed her the most?

They worked. Like, there was nothing to counter S/O's idiotic moves, nor anything that could actually survive them.

It worked, and she hated that it did.

Seele simply steps out the way of an incoming monster part that had exploded spectacularly.

(Seele) "I will never understand how that machine of yours makes everything it touches detonate. It's like everything's made out of Natasha's grenades to you."

(S/O) "HAH! You are just watching the King/Queen of Hearts in action, Seele! Try to keep up!"

Her eye twitched. Oh now it was ON!

She had a great deal of respect for her S/O, truthfully. But it was dwarfed by her annoyance of them as well.

They would go on about complete nonsense, and yet when they were together, S/O could be a surprisingly normal and honest person.

Then she would watch them in the fight club and watch S/O in their machine grab someone's head, ready to make it explode.

(S/O) "Article 1: A Unit whose head section has been destroyed is disqualified!"

(Man) "H-HEY! THAT'S MY ACTUAL HEAD!"

(S/O) "Then I have won this fight."

Seele had never heard about these articles, or schools on this planet. Maybe it was an offworld thing.

...God, she hoped that whoever trained S/O wouldn't meet Natasha or the kids.

[cherryblossombankai]

Undying Embers (Dragon!Endeavor x fem!princess!reader)

Summary: Enji Todoroki is an ancient dragon who went into hiding after the war between dragons and the kingdom of Wisteria. Decades later, the Princess of Wisteria wanders into his den. Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: fantasy au, fem!reader, oral sex (fem!receiving), penetration, unprotected sex, pregnancy Taglist: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @sweet-chocolate-sweet, @helloiamadrawer, @satorustar, @missmadness123, @keiva1000, @ita606, @copolite01

A young princess, preparing to one day be queen, was expected to be present for tutoring sessions and etiquette lessons. You couldn’t be bothered with any of that. You were a curious girl, eager to explore the deep forests and high mountains surrounding your kingdom. Every chance you could find to escape the stuffy castle, you took it. It had caused you to acquire quite a reputation among the castle staff for being troublesome. Your father, the king, would spend hours lecturing you about the dangers of running wild as you did.

After all, it had only been a decade or so since the war between your kingdom and the dragons of the mountain. Much of the land was still treacherous from the war. In some places, the fires still burn from the dragon’s blaze. Most of the dragons had been killed or driven into hiding, some even taking to the skies to find a new home. 

“The most dangerous of all…We don’t know what’s come of him. He could appear from the sky, and snap you right up,” your father warned you. 

Seeing a great dragon flying through the air only stirred your curiosity even more. His warnings were lost on you. 

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

It had been raining all morning. Your sisters fussed about their hair being frizzy and not being able to go outside because their gowns would get muddied. You, however, couldn’t be more thrilled. The maids would be busy cleaning up the mess, and your butler would have extra work as well. Your father’s knees always gave him trouble when it rained, and your mother wouldn’t be able to resist a cozy day by the fire reading her romance novels. 

It was the perfect time for you to slip away unnoticed. 

While your sisters helped each other brush and braid their hair, you snuck into your closet. You quickly stripped off your gown and pulled on a pair of trousers and a tunic. As you ran down the corridor, you pulled on your cape and pulled the hood over your head. 

You knew there’d be no escaping through the front door, so you slowed down and tiptoed downstairs and through the basement. You came out of a side door that had a path leading right to the forest. The muddy ground squishes underneath your feet as you run down the hill, fearing neither dark woods or rain. This was the chance you’d been waiting for to see how far you could make it into the forest before you hear the tell-tale ringing of the bells that meant the guards had been sent to find you. 

The deeper you wandered, the heavier the atmosphere became. The trees seemed to close in tighter around you, and there was a faint smell of burning pine tickling your nose. Your heart jumped at the idea of seeing the fire of a dragon, still burning as a memory of the war. 

As you continued your trek, you saw the woods begin to open up in the distance. From the canopy of the forest, you suddenly stepped into a wide clearing. The ground was littered with charred trees and wagons. Smoke was still rising from the ground, and in a few place orange embers glowed still. Even from yards away you could feel their heat. This heat was different. A dragon’s fire had burned so hot and deep in the ground it had not yet cooled down. You’re certain you’ve stumbled upon a long-forgotten battlefield. 

The great mountain was leering over you, and you spotted a cave opening towards the very top. You were certain you could make it if you started now, but then you heard the bells. The guards would be coming for you, and you didn’t want to leave a hint of where you’ve been going or else you’ll never be able to return. So you decide to meet them instead. 

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The days passed with the usual waning dullness filling your hours. Your father busied you with diplomacy and leadership lessons, and your mother with lessons in etiquette. A princess must be both a proper ruler and a proper lady, but never both at the same time. Both identities are to be juggled delicately, only stepping forward at the appropriate moment. A princess must have her voice heard but never raise it. You must be social, but never aggressive. A friend of the people, but also above them. It was an intricate dance you found yourself less interested in the steps of. 

It was the brief moments in between, where there was nothing but silence in the palace and your parents were too busy with their affairs, where you could truly live. You didn’t dare venture out into the forest again until you knew for sure that you could make it to the mountain. In the meantime, you would sneak into your father’s study to find everything you could about dragons. You even lucked out in finding an old journal of your father’s. 

It was there you first stumbled upon the dragon’s name, Todoroki, written in your father’s elegant cursive. 

‘The beast flies through the sky like a red blight upon my kingdom. The others fly in pairs to attack us, but the one called Todoroki comes alone. Always roaring first to announce his arrival, then drowning my troops in flames so hot it seems to melt their armor. They say he’s the one who killed my father and started this war,’ your father wrote. 

There was a sloppy sketch of a dragon on the corner of the page. You knew your father must have been quite young at the time if he was still imaginative enough to attempt a drawing. Dragons, however, are ageless beings. This Todoroki your father wrote of had likely not changed at all, if he wasn’t slain. 

Deeper into the journal you read another entry: 

‘We have either slain or driven away most of the dragons. Their castles and fortresses have once again been reclaimed for Wisteria. Even Todoroki has been driven away.’ 

You wonder how true that is. Has the dragon truly been driven away, or did he just go into hiding? 

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The fog rolled in thick sheets across the burning clearing. The sun had barely begun to rise over the mountain. Bright orange rays of sunlight shone through the trees but faded into the fog. You stood where your last trek had ended. This time you felt confident you’d make it to the top, and into the cave you can see over the cliffside. You’d finally see for yourself if the dragon was truly gone. 

You pulled your cloak tighter around your shoulders and began making your way up the side of the mountain. The chill in the air grows deeper as you climb higher. You looked back down to see how far you’ve come. The clearing seemed smaller from up there. 

“Dragon here I come,” you whispered softly. 

Bones and rotting animal carcasses litter the entrance of the cave. Rusted shields seem to be carefully hung up as though warning adventurers to stay away. You set your pack down and dig out the candle you’d packed up, then you light it. Once you stepped into the cave, you realized how futile your planning attempts were. The candle barely lit you path, but you continued anyway. 

You stopped when you heard a deep growl rumbling off the walls of the cave. You hold the candle out further in front of you, and the light bounces off the red scales of a dragon. 

“Todoroki,” you whispered in shock as the dragon stood up. 

He continued growling as he stalked towards you. There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t help feeling pity for. A deep pain within them. A large scar trailed down one of them. He nudged his snout against your stomach, pushing you backward. You realize he was trying to push you towards the exit of the cave. You realized he didn’t intend to kill you. 

“Wait, wait. I just want to talk,” you plead, but he continues pushing you away. 

You touch his snout gently, and he huffs at the contact. He pulled back with a soft growl, his eyes narrowing at your audacity. The dragon raised back on his haunches, glaring down at you. 

“I’m the princess of Wisteria,” you bowed as you introduced yourself, giving the dragon your name. 

“Why should I care?” he speaks, his voice deeper and graveled. The words seemed to be a struggle to get out. 

The question took you by surprise. Why should he care? You hadn’t thought of that. Although you liked to consider yourself unaffected by your title, usually throwing it out like that was enough for people to at least take note of your presence. You were so intent on finding the dragon. Your stubborn heart was so set on finding him, and yet you didn’t have a plan on what to do if you did. 

“Are you Todoroki?” you asked him. 

He nodded slowly and leaned down again to sniff you curiously. His large snout bumped against your stomach as he did so. 

“What do you want?” he growled. 

“I just…I just wanted to see you with my own eyes.” 

“And tell your soldiers where I’m hiding?”

“No! No, I wouldn’t!” 

And it’s not a lie. You wouldn’t dream of betraying his location. It was thrilling to know where a dragon lived and to keep that secret close. You carefully caressed his horns and smiled softly when you felt him purring. 

He stepped back and looked at you with a discerning gaze. He can recognize your features. Those eyes were just like your father’s, except instead of blazing hatred he sees bright curiosity. 

“You must be ancient,” you said as you took a seat on the ground, making yourself at home. 

“Don’t be cruel,” he scoffed and curled up in front of you. “But yes.” 

“Why didn’t you leave with the others?” 

“Because this is my home.” 

Simple. Direct. You enjoyed those qualities much more than the tiptoeing coyness you dealt with at the royal court. 

 “But you stopped fighting,” you point out. 

“Because I stopped being attacked.” 

Although his approach was fresh compared to what you usually deal with, it does fall short of your expectations. You’d hoped to be dazzled with tales straight from the mouth of an ancient dragon. 

“What more do you want to know?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“I’m not sure,” you admitted sheepishly.

“So, the little princess made the trip up the mountain for no reason?” 

“Am I being teased? By a dragon?” 

He seemed almost embarrassed by this. He huffed softly, then turned away from you. You watched as he began making his way to the opening of the cave. 

“Where are you going?” you asked as you scurried after him. 

“Hunting.” 

With that, he took off into the sky. He flew low enough as to not be noticed by the castle guards, but high enough to inspect the ground below. You stood at the cliff, watching him dive into the trees, then rise with a deer in his mouth. He ignored you as he swooped back to the cliffside, and carried his catch inside the save. When you followed him, you were greeted to the sight of him curled up in the corner while digging into his meal. 

“I don’t share,” he growled. 

“I wasn’t asking.” 

He watched you suspiciously before returning once more to his meal. You sat down on the ground, watching him curiously. He was strong. You could hear his jaws crunching through the bones as if it’s nothing at all. It was no wonder that your father feared him so, and even searched the skies for him. Even as peace fell over Wisteria your father remained restless with the thought of the dragon that was still roaming free. 

When the sun starts sinking over the horizon, you stood up finally. You brushed the dirt off your clothes before turning to him. He had his eyes closed, appearing to be dozed off. Somehow you could tell he wasn’t.

“I’ll come back,” you told him. 

He doesn’t respond, but when he heard your footsteps retreating he opens one eye to watch you walk away. 

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Days passed into weeks. As much as you wanted to make your way back to Enji’s cave, princess duties had to come first to keep your father from sussing you out. 

Enji tried to deny to himself that he was on the lookout for you. Every morning, he wandered out of his cave to look for signs that you were close by. His heart would break a little bit every time you didn’t show up, something he truly didn’t think was possible anymore after losing everything during the war.

Finally, years had passed. You came of an age where you were considered a proper lady, which afforded you more freedom. You slipped away one day and made your way back up the mountain, this time not knowing if you would ever come back down. Because you knew what awaited you, and you didn’t know if you would have the strength to leave him behind again. Somehow in the brief time you’d spent with Enji, he had found a place in your heart. 

He was standing just outside the cave, this time in his human form. His blue eyes searched the tree line for you as they had ever since your meeting years ago. When he saw you break through the brush, his heart leaped into his chest. Although, you couldn’t tell his excitement by looking at him. 

“Who are you?” you asked with a suspicious glance. The large man standing before you was a stranger until he bent down so you could see his eyes. 

“Who do you think, little princess?” he smirked. 

Your eyes widened, and you threw your arms around his neck. He gasped at the contact, your hug was tight.

“Enji,” you whispered. 

He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the ground slightly. It had been ages since anyone touched him at all, and yet there you were. In his arms as if you’d always belonged there. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” you said and looked up at him. “I wanted to, but my father was watching me all the time. I think he suspected I’d found you.” 

“Were you followed? Are you in danger?” he asked, cupping your cheeks as he looked down at you with deathly intensity. 

“No, no. It’s fine,” you smiled at him and leaned into his touch. 

“You should be careful, you don’t want to get hurt.” 

“Stop worrying so much.” 

He frowned at you but then leaned down to kiss your forehead. You were still trying to decipher what it meant when he released you, and he turned to walk into his cave. 

“Where are you going?” you whined as you followed him inside. 

“I want to show you something,” he answered. 

You had to jog to catch up with his long gait, and then you held onto his arm to force him to slow down. He takes you deeper into his den than you’d been before, where he has a small hoard of treasure. He bends down to pick up a fire opal ring and slides it onto your finger. 

“I’ve been saving that for you,” he said softly. 

“It’s beautiful,” you gasped as you admired the ring. You stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.” 

He looked away quickly so you wouldn’t see the deep red flush rising to his cheeks, “It’s nothing.” 

The two of you spent the entire day together, roaming the forest nearby. Enji admired you, often silently and from afar, as you leisurely strolled through the trees. He loved the curious way you’d kneel down to inspect mushrooms and flowers; and how you greeted the wild animals that crossed your path with a gentle ‘hello’. You were lovely in his eyes, and far too carefree to be locked away in a stuffy castle…Or a dragon’s den for that matter. 

As the afternoon sun began to sink past the mountains in the distance, he knew the day was coming to a close and that it might be impossible for you to come back to him. Still, he knew the pressures of royalty all too well. 

“You should leave before it gets dark out,” he said as you followed him back to the den. Silence followed until you were standing at the cliff edge together. 

“What if…I don’t go back?” you prod gently. 

“Then, they’ll send guards to look for you.” 

“But they’ll have a difficult time finding me.” 

“But they will. And they’ll find me too,” he reached down to hold your hand. “It would be too dangerous.” 

“Won’t you miss me?” you asked, trying not to cry. 

“Of course, I will, little one,” he cupped your cheeks and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “But I want you to be safe.” 

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Your trips into the forest became more frequent. Sometimes Enji was in his dragon form when you arrived, but other times he’d be in his human form. It was always a delight to see which version you were getting with every visit. Forehead kisses and snout nuzzles were equally adored by you. 

One day, you’re sitting together by the creek watching the water flow over the smooth rocks when you get up the nerve to lean in closer. You kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth. At first, he froze, unsure how to respond to the sudden soft affection. Then, he tilted his head to catch your mouth with his own. 

Tentative, gentle kisses became eager as you explored one another’s mouths. His big hands were warm on your waist, beckoning you closer until you were heart to racing heart. He knew he should stop this before it started, but it was far too late for that. It was too late the moment you’d shown up at his den years after your first meeting. Perhaps it was too late the second he laid eyes on you. 

A cracking branch pulls you away from one another, and smoke flares from his nostrils as he looks around to gauge the danger. A small bunny jumped out of the brush and then took off running when it saw you. You let out a small laugh, relieved that there wasn’t any danger. 

“Being with you makes me more on edge,” he said softly. 

“Why?” 

“Because I have something to protect…Something I could lose.” 

You kiss his cheek softly, “You’re not going to lose me, Enji.” 

He stood up and lifted you. You were light as a feather in his arms as he carried you to the den. He laid you down gently on a bed of furs and leaned down to kiss you. 

“I want to make you mine,” he whispered against your lips. 

Your eyes widened as you looked up to see his serious expression, and then you nodded. He captured your lip once more with his own, deepening the kiss until your tongues were rolling together in a sensual dance. His hands were warm and gentle on your body, although they were decidedly unpracticed in undoing the laces on your dress. You broke the kiss to help him, and he took the chance to shed his clothes as you did the same. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly as he caressed you. 

“So are you,” you smiled at him. Your hands were shaky and gentle dragging down his abdomen, following the trail of red hair to the base of his cock. When your fingertips brushed against it, he gasped. You took more, wrapping your hand around his thick shaft and stroking him. 

“I can’t remember the last time someone touched me,” he growled, his eyes now blazing with desire. You felt his body grow warmer against yours. 

“I’m flattered,” you giggled. 

He kissed you deeply, starting at your lips and then moving to your neck. His sharp fangs nipped at your skin, but not hard enough to break it. As much as he’d love to mark you, he knows the risks that would pose if someone saw. So he resists the urge…For now. He kissed down your body and spread your thighs. His nostrils flared as he took in the scent of your arousal. His nose nuzzled against your mound, then his tongue dragged along your folds. 

The den was quiet except for the sound of him slurping at your needy pussy and your moans, growing more fervent as he lavished attention on your clit. His fingers are inside of you, stretching you out so he won’t hurt you. Your hands tug on his hair, pushing him against your pussy even more. 

“Greedy little thing,” he growled. 

You wanted to come up with a witty comeback but all your mind can focus on is the heated arousal twisting like a coil in your core, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Enji,” you whined, hoping he won’t deny your release. 

He moaned against your pussy, encouraging you to let go. When you finally did, it was like a pleasant numbness washed over your being. Your vision went to static as you cried out his name in bliss. He lapped up your nectar, just as greedy as he’d accused you of being. He didn’t pull away until the throbbing of his cock drew his attention. 

“Do you want me?” he asked as he hovered above you. His eyes were darkened with need. 

“Y-yes,” you stuttered, your legs spreading for him. 

He grabs your thighs in his big hands and hooks your legs around his waist. They barely manages to lock at the ankles, but he doesn’t notice that right now. He’s too busy reaching for his cock and guiding himself into your warm embrace. He has to ease himself past the resistance, but he was gentle. He didn’t want you to feel any pain. 

“Are you okay?” he asked when he bottomed out. He looked down at your pussy, stretched and puffy around him. You nodded slowly, panting to catch your breath. He thumbed at your swollen clit and felt it twitch under his touch. 

He stayed still inside of you for a long time, then began a slow pace. You held onto him desperately, whining everytime his cock hit your walls. The hard ground scraped your back as he picked up the pace. You’d feel it later, but in the moment all you felt was his delicious girth. 

“I love you,” you whined. 

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He felt tears in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you sloppily. 

He could feel your walls twitching around him, signalling how close you are. He wanted to hold on longer, to make you come undone around him. Instead, his cock was throbbing and he was standing at the precipice. Even slowing down didn’t pull him from the edge. 

“Shit,” he growled and grabbed your hips. He drove himself into you harder again and again, then with a growl he spilled inside of you. He collapsed over you, his head on your chest as his cock throbbed with his release. 

You ran your fingers through his hair as you held onto him. He was a mess, panting and drooling on your chest. Sloppy kisses fell on your breasts. You looked outside, and noticed for the first time that night has fallen. Surely your father had sent guards, and they were likely scouring the forest for signs of you. 

“I need to go,” you whispered. 

“No,” he tightened his grip on you. “I can’t let you go again.” 

“I can’t watch them kill you.” 

“I’ll burn it all down, I don’t care. I just need you to stay,” he whispered. He raised his head from your chest. “You don’t belong there. You belong with me.” 

He pulled out of you then, and picked you up in his arms. You clinged to him, proving you didn’t want to part either. You nuzzled against him, your head resting in the curve of his neck. He took you deeper into the cave. 

The guards did not find you that night or any other nights they searched. It was months later when you returned to the castle. This time on the back of a great red dragon, your tummy swollen with child. 

[crimxonwrites]

Blood-painted kisses | Aemond Targaryen x female!OC | Chapter 4 ❝Cruel and Vile❞

☽➛ Summary: Nothing satietes Maehrys Velaryon's hunger as well as revenge. Growing up at the Red Keep as the bastard of Rhaenyra Targaryen did not come trouble-free. Her childhood consisted of bitter words and repulsive looks from nearly everybody in the castle. As she grew older, Maehrys grew meaner. Once the Velaryons return to King's Landing to defend Luke's claim as Lord of Driftmark, Maehrys decides that it is time for the people who hurt her in the past to pay.

☽➛ Warnings: swearing, bullying, mentions of blood, overall 18+!!!!

☽➛ Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x female!OC ( enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers again?? romance is a subplot)

A/N: Surprise!!!!!!! It's been a year and half, but I'm still writing. TRIGGER WARNING!!!! I will continue this series in 1st person, I feel like this is the only way I can continue it xoxoxo. As always, english is not my first language, feel free to correct me!<3

Masterlist

Chapter 5

My grip tightens around the wooden sword, wishing I held a real Valyrian steel blade in my hand. Aemond’s face remains expressionless as I begin circling him on the training ground. We are alone; almost everyone in the Red Keep has left for supper. Ser Criston took his disgusting assertions and left as well, giving me enough reason to act on my anger. Suddenly, I feel no pain in my shoulder and no shame from Criston’s defeat moments earlier. It is just me, Aemond, and my thirst for a good battle, nay, a good victory. The white-haired man raises a brow. In the dark of the night, I think of Daemon and how Aemond resembles him, just a little bit.

I prime my sword, waiting for him to pick his up. “We are late for supper.” Aemond turns around, and my heart starts galloping. He shall not dismiss me, he shall not underestimate me, he shall not turn his back on me. How dare he? He owes me a fair battle, especially after he attacked me in the library, and my shoulder is clearly still wounded. Wounded, like my pride in this moment.

As a loud, guttural growl escapes from my throat, I swing my sword at the silver-haired man. Aemond quickly turns and avoids my blow, taking me by surprise. Not ready to accept defeat, I swing again and again, my vision blurred and my mind fogged with anger. My blows quickly become useless as Aemond avoids me yet again. Why won’t he fight back? I notice his patience wearing thin and take the opportunity, hitting him in the shoulder as hard as I can. “Enough!” he yells, gripping the wooden sword and pulling it from my hands with so much force that I wince in pain, my palms burning from the harsh wood. “I shall not fight a child.” With those last words, Aemond walks away swiftly without looking back.

I am left alone. Child. That word makes my stomach turn. He thought me a child, yet he was the one aimlessly harassing me in the library moments earlier. How could he be such a hypocrite? When I am sure Aemond is truly gone, I allow my exhausted body to rest, falling to my knees and placing my burning palms on my sweaty forehead. If only I had a dragon.

-

The air is so tense in the supper chamber, I cannot stand it. Every breath I take, imaginary fumes come out of my nostrils. I feel restless, as Aemond had defeated me twice, along with Ser Criston Cole, whom I have begun to despise. It is not the same hatred I feel for Aemond. No, I feel repulsed by Ser Criston, disgusted even, and there’s something in my gut telling me I am right to feel that way.

Aemond’s piercing look catches my attention. My whole family, along with the three silver-haired children and Queen Alicent, are waiting for my grandsire, Viserys, to make an appearance. I grow restless as my stomach growls in hunger. The only thing I have in front of me is a chalice full of wine, and I think about downing it twice. I dismiss that thought quickly, as Aegon is already drunk as a dog. He made a fool of himself in front of everyone just moments earlier. I do not want to make a fool of myself.

The doors open with a loud creak as the doormen announce His Majesty’s name. The smell of death and decay thickens the air, and soon enough, I lose my appetite. Viserys takes a seat between Alicent and Rhaenyra and starts to talk. His words are muffled in my ears as I watch Aemond exchange dirty looks with my brothers. Once again, I hold my head in my aching palms, and I cannot help but feel like I am back on the training grounds, left alone and ashamed after losing to him again.

A few drinks later, the King is carried away to his chambers, as his health does not allow him to continue supper. My stomach is still empty, as is my cup. I signal Jace to pour some more wine as servants carry a pig and place it in front of Aemond. Luke chuckles at Aemond, and I feel something I hadn’t felt in a while: sympathy towards my uncle. We both shared a painful childhood. I glance at his eyepatch, and then glance at my scar. The wine must have done a number on me because Aemond slams the table, suddenly getting up and startling everyone except me.

“A final tribute.” He raises his cup, keeping his eye on Luke. “To the health of my nephews and niece.” He moves his cold gaze towards Jace. “Jace, Luke, Joffrey.” And finally, his eye moves swiftly to me and remains there. “And Maehrys.” I try as hard as I can to keep my face expressionless. “Each of them handsome, wise,” he continues, and I know what’s coming next “and strong.” Fucker.

“Aemond—” Alicent’s voice is full of worry and authority.

“Come, let us drain our cups for these four strong people,” Aemond continues.

“I dare you to say that again.” Jace rises from his chair and takes a step towards Aemond. Intoxicated, my first instinct is to get up and follow my brother. I smell a fight.

“Why? It was only a compliment,” Aemond says, and I recognize his tone. He is playing dirty, just as he had in the library and on the training field, every time he faces me or my brothers. “Do you not think of yourself as strong?”

Aemond is interrupted by a weak punch thrown by Jace. I grin, eager to join the fight, but before I can take a step, I feel my mother’s hand on mine. She shakes her head and I sit back down, reminding myself that I must not make a fool of myself.

“Your sister’s punch hurts more than yours.” Aemond shoves Jace and walks away.

“I am still so famished,” I announce, throwing a ripe grape into my mouth.

After supper, Rhaenyra sends word for me to join her in her chambers.

“Have you not had enough food? Should I call for the cook?” Rhaenyra asks, her tone growing worried.

“No, Mother, these grapes are splendid.” I sit on the divan. “Why am I here?” I ask, looking at Rhaenyra’s slightly disheveled appearance.

“You never really knew your grandsire,” Rhaenyra starts. “Yet you share so many of his passions.” Passions? I never knew King Viserys loved combat and hated his uncles. “History, for example. You share his passion for the histories of the Seven Kingdoms.” My cheeks burn in surprise and a bit of embarrassment. It is true, I do love to read about history, but dragon history in particular, and, on some occasions, Old Valyria. I doubt that my grandfather’s passion for reading came from a burning resentment because he did not claim a dragon. After all, he had Balerion the Black Dread, Aegon the Conqueror’s dragon.

“You are my dearest daughter,” Rhaenyra says, moving closer to me. “And I love you immensely.” Rhaenyra signals her handmaiden to grab something. The handmaiden hands me an old book. “Tomorrow is your name day, and your grandfather wished for you to have this.” She hands me the same book about Old Valyria that I already read when I was younger.

-

I do not have the heart to tell my mother that I have already read the book my grandsire gave me, so I thank her and decide to go back to my chambers. We are to leave for Dragonstone tomorrow, and I cannot be happier. As much as the Red Keep fills me with nostalgia, I have grown to hate it in these past few days. Before I can reach my chambers, I see Alicent walking down the hall, accompanied by Aemond.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” I grip the book harder as I bow.

"'Tis late indeed to be wandering these halls unaccompanied, Princess," she says, and I nod.

“I was just about to retire for the night.” I speak, making eye contact with her. “We depart for Dragonstone on the morrow."

“Very well,” she says and begins to leave, but Aemond does not move. “Aemond?”

“May I have a moment alone with my niece?” he asks, and Alicent continues walking, leaving us alone. I hate the way he speaks. My niece, as if I am property, and not a person.

I thank the Gods that the guards to my mother’s chamber are not far, because I am unarmed, exhausted, and slightly drunk.

“How old will you be on the morrow?” he asks, and I take a step back, putting some distance between us.

"I believe the hour is past midnight, so it is now my seventeenth name day." I frown. “Why are you asking?”

Aemond sighs. “And yet, you remain unwed.” He takes a step closer, and my heart begins galloping. His face is slightly lit by the torches, and I cannot read his expression well. The corners of his mouth are downturned, and his eye is dark. He does look a bit flushed, most likely from the wine he drank during supper. By the tone of his voice, he sounds annoyed.

“What is it you are implying?” I ask, dazed and confused. Aemond shakes his head, and I cannot help but notice how perfect he looks. Despite our fight, despite Jace’s punch, despite everything that happened today, he keeps his appearance as clean as a dragon’s fire. In this moment, I think I do not want to hit him.

“When the King dies,” he starts, his voice low and a bit desperate. “If your mother sits on the Iron Throne,” he continues, “my mother will want us to wed.” Aemond whispers the last few words, and my eyes widen.

“First, when my mother sits upon the Iron Throne.” I correct him, whispering. “Second, why would your mother even suggest such a thing?” I continue. “I do not feel anything but hate towards you.”

He sighs, again, and this time I can smell the wine on his hot breath. “It is not about feeling, stupid girl.” He grabs my shoulders, but it does not hurt, and I drop my book on the floor. “It’s about politics, and how we are both unwed.” Aemond speaks to me like I am a child again. “You must find a husband before that happens.” He continues, and I smell desperation in his voice. I gather every bit of strength that I have left for today and slap him so hard that his head turns to the right. For a moment, he appears taken aback, but as the seconds stretch, a grin slowly spreads across his face. “You hit harder than your brother, still.” He wipes the blood from his lower lip and looks down at me.

“My mother would never allow me to be wed to such a…” I stumble on my words, and I curse the wine that has clouded my tongue.

“Handsome man?” he interrupts me, and my heart quickens in pace. How can he jest in this moment?

“Cruel and vile man,” I say, finding my words at last. His gaze remains locked on mine, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"And yet, here we are," he taunts, his voice low and dripping with mockery. "Two souls bound by fate and disdain." Aemond must be drunker than I imagined.

I glare at him, my anger boiling over. "You think your arrogance and cruelty can sway me? You’re nothing but a wretched excuse for a man." Things are escalating swiftly.

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. "You’re no prize yourself, bastard."

The space between us feels electric, charged with a mix of hatred and something more. My pulse races, not just from the fury but from the undeniable tension in the air. I can almost taste the animosity between us.

Without warning, he grabs my shoulders yet again, pulling me sharply against him. The intensity of his touch catches me off guard. Our faces are mere inches apart, and for a heartbeat, time seems to freeze.

"Perhaps it is the very fire we share that ignites this conflict," he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin.

My breath hitches, and my heart beats fast as his lips hover dangerously close. “You’re insufferable,” I manage, though my voice is almost a whisper.

"Yet you cannot deny the truth of it," he replies, his gaze locked onto mine with intensity.

In a sudden, reckless moment, I close the distance between us. Our lips crash together, the kiss fierce and consuming. The anger that once defined us melds with an unexpected, scorching passion. The taste of blood and wine lingers as our mouths move in a heated, desperate dance, challenging the very essence of our loathing.

As we finally pull away, breathless and disheveled, the fire in our eyes is matched only by the shared, tumultuous resolve. The hatred remains, but now it burns alongside something darker, something neither of us can ignore.

Also read on: AO3

Taglist: @watermel0nsugarhigh @ondereleutheromania @literishdegree99

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (22)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Aemond's journey on Vhagar to Winterfell, which would take a week on horseback, took him two days. The North was like a white, glistening wilderness to him, once in a while small, grey villages and the strongholds of minor lords could be seen on the ground.

When he finally reached his destination he had to admit that Lord Stark's fortress impressed him − his great stone fortress floated among the snow-covered hills.

Vhagar's arrival led to panic and the local population fleeing away from her resting place − Aemond ordered her to stay where he thought that her large body would do the least damage, on a hill away from the stronghold.

He was welcomed by the guards, to whom he announced who he was and to whom he was coming.

He was received with honours and hospitality; the young lord, Cregan Stark, sat with his advisors behind a long wooden table, looking at him with concern.

Aemond knew that the Starks had never broken their promises, and his father had sworn allegiance to his whore-sister.

He had to change his mind.

"My Lord." He said lowly, nodding. Lord Stark also nodded in response.

"My Prince. I must admit I am surprised to see a messenger from the Red Keep in areas so far from King's Landing. Explain to me with what matter you come with." He said calmly, but also with a kind of suspicion that he did not like − he knew that he had to be careful with his words.

"I come on behalf of my brother-king, who has expressed his wish for you to pay him homage in King's Landing, along with the other lords." He said matter-of-factly, not taking his eye off him.

He, however, did not lower his gaze either; he furrowed his brow, surprised, glancing quickly at the maester, who whispered something in his ear. There was a commotion behind the table.

He found with amusement that the word of his brother's coronation had not reached Winterfell before he arrived.

He thought this was a good thing, as he had taken them by surprise and could press them.

Cregan Stark grunted loudly, looking at him uncertainly.

"What of your half-sister, the legitimate heir to the throne established by your father-king?" He asked, trying to hide his nervousness and stress, his hand clenched into fist on the table in front of him.

He pressed his lips together, wondering how much he could allow himself with him.

He figured that the boy was about Jace's age.

"My father, on his deathbed, decided that he would not go against the will of his ancestors, and that his first-born son should sit on the Iron Throne." He said with certainty and smirked, seeing the commotion behind the table again, the tentative conversation distracting the young lord.

"Silence!" He called out loudly, raising his hand, the men around him fell quiet. Lord Stark hid his face in his hands, letting the air out quietly. He wanted to say something, but didn't have time; a guard stepped inside, bowing low.

"My Lord, forgive my boldness, but a messenger from Dragonstone has arrived." He said quickly, his heart pounding fast in anticipation, a cold sweat run down his back.

He prayed it was Luke.

He pressed his lips together as Jace was led inside; the boy stopped abruptly, clearly frightened at the sight of him − he felt like laughing at this pathetic sight. Jace, however, pulled himself together and walked closer, still at a safe distance from him, bowing to the young lord.

"My Lord. I come by order of my queen-mother to remind you of your father's oath of allegiance to her years ago." He said in trembling voice, straightening up.

This was something that he had not anticipated.

Lord Stark stared at them with his mouth open, himself not knowing what to make of the situation, horrified and confused. He shook his head, pressing his fingers together between his furrowed brows, letting the air out with impatience.

"I'm lost. Do we have a King or a queen then?" He asked, clearly upset and frightened by the fact that a skirmish was about to take place in his court that completely did not concern him. He grinned mischievously at his question, looking at Jace with a satisfied expression on his face.

"My bastard nephew is flying around the kingdom, trying to steal my brother's throne." He said lightly. Jace lit up with a blush of shame and clenched his jaw, looking away, intertwining his hands behind his back in an attempt to calm himself.

"My uncle and his family have committed treason, planting a usurper, drunkard and rapist on the throne." Said Jace, looking at the young lord.

Cregan Stark laughed at their words, shaking his head, clearly disbelieving what was happening before his eyes − his advisors also seemed confused, looking at them uncertainly.

He thought with rage that it had become a spectacle.

"After your whore mother, who should sit on the Iron Throne? You, Lord Strong?" He asked tauntingly; Jace almost threw himself at him but the guards stopped him, catching him under the shoulders. He laughed out loud, shaking his head, furious and amused at the same time.

"Laugh, uncle. Unlike you, Lord Stark and the North know what honour and loyalty are. The North never forgets. Luke will remind your wife's father of that as well." He said with satisfaction, as if he thought that he had found his soft spot and made no mistake.

He tried to do his best to restrain his involuntary reaction but couldn't, his eye widened in shock, his brow furrowed in concern.

Luke will remind your wife's father of this as well.

Luke flew to Storm's End.

He no longer cared about Lord Stark's decision, whether he would support his brother or not − he felt like rushing out and flying on Vhagar straight to Lord Baratheon's stronghold.

"Enough of this childish pushing. My father supported the heir chosen by King Viserys and I will not question his decision. Is there any document confirming the King's change of will or am I merely to take your word for it, my Prince?" Lord Stark asked him, and he pressed his lips together, turning his head away impatiently.

He had nothing to back up his words, because he didn't believe them himself.

He saw Jace throw him a look full of satisfaction and thought that he would pierce his skull with his sword one day.

"If my words mean nothing to you, Lord Stark, so be it. However, be prepared that when me and Vhagar return, not even a stone will be left here."

He left the stronghold angry and bitter; he thought that until Jace arrived everything had gone according to plan and cursed loudly at the thought that he would have to return to King's Landing reporting his failure.

His brother ordered him to return to the Red Keep immediately after his conversation with Lord Stark, but he made a different decision.

He ordered Vhagar to fly to the skies and headed for Storm's End.

Through the storms and heavy rains, the journey took him longer than he had planned and he wondered if he would still find his wife there.

He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to arrive unannounced, but he was too desperate to wait for her to return to King's Landing.

He would go mad if he had to wait any longer.

When he arrived the weather was similar to when he had come to choose his future wife; all wet, he called out to the guards to lead him inside, and they immediately obeyed his command, recognising him.

It was the middle of the night, and his unannounced visit had brought everyone to their feet − Lord Baratheon was waiting for him in the throne room, dressed hastily in his daytime attire, clearly unhappy to be awakened from his peaceful sleep.

"Forgive me this intrusion, my Lord. I wish to see my wife." He said quickly, water dripping from his wet, white hair onto the stone floor − only now did he feel that he was trembling all over from the cold.

Borros sighed heavily and ordered his servants to take him to his daughter's chamber.

As he stepped inside, his wife jumped up, terrified, looking at him with her mouth parted, lightning and heavy, gusty rain outside the window − it seemed to him that she was not sure whether she was dreaming or not.

"Aemond?" She asked quietly, uncertainly, and for a moment he could not move.

He looked at her gentle face, her large eyes, her loose, shiny hair wonderfully framing her soft cheeks; he could see the outline of her girlish silhouette through the thin material of her nightgown, a body that belonged only to him.

He realised with pain how much he wanted her, the separation of a few days had made his cock pulsate painfully in his breeches.

"Did you speak to him?" He asked impassively, looking at her as if he wanted to devour her.

He felt like throwing himself at her, but he needed to hear it.

To hear that she had obeyed, that she had done what her husband would have wanted her to do.

He saw her press her lips together and tense up all over.

He did not like it.

He felt his heart pounding hard and stepped closer to her; she moved back, looking at him pleadingly, sitting down on her bed.

"We only exchanged a few words, I didn't expect him to come here." She said horrified, clearly noticing on his face how slowly rage began to pulse through his veins − he felt that he was so tense that something in his body was about to burst.

"What did you discuss, sweet wife?" He sneered, a malicious, poisonous threat in his mouth, evidence of the madness that lurked in his mind and heart.

He saw that she feared him now, that she could already see right through him.

"I told him to send my condolences to his mother for the death of her child." She whispered quietly, trembling all over, frightened, waiting anxiously for his reaction.

He felt that if he could, he would have breathed fire with rage.

What right did she have to meddle in these matters?

What right did she have to sympathise with his enemies, to speak to the bastard who had disfigured him for life?

He felt all his frustration, the failure of his mission in Winterfell, his failure as brother and son crush him under its own weight, the fire that burned within him was as black as his heart, consuming even its light, turning everything into a void.

His lips curved in a dangerous, animalistic grin.

"I'd rather you concentrated on giving an heir to me, instead of considering the offspring of others. You're not very successful at it so far, are you?"

He felt his own heart stop when he heard what he left his mouth and he regretted his words immediately.

He saw in her gaze that she didn't believe it either − her face took on an expression that he had never seen before; her eyebrows arched in pain, her eyes looking at him in disbelief as if he had just his her in the stomach with all his strength, her body trembling on the verge of sobbing.

He wanted her to say something.

For her to say that he was a fucking bastard.

For her to ask how dare he speak to her like that.

"Forgive me for being a disappointment to you, my Prince." She said so painfully calm that he couldn't get anything out.

My Prince.

Not my husband.

He stared at her, unable to move, having a complete blank in his mind − his wife lowered her gaze, letting the tears of humiliation and pain leave the corners of her eyes and run down her cheeks.

He wanted to approach her, to wipe them away, to place tender kisses full of devotion and longing on her sweet, soft face, to tell her that he didn't think so, that he had said it in rage only to hurt her.

He couldn't get the words out.

He lowered his gaze, swallowing loudly, horrified by what he had just done.

He had destroyed everything.

Everything they had built together.

He had crushed her, hit her most sensitive spot because she had dared to show compassion to his nephew.

Because she wasn't as cold and calculating as he was.

Because she was a better person.

He saw her turn over on the bed, laying with her back to him; he knew that she was crying, that he had hurt her, stabbed her in the back.

He wanted to approach her and had already taken a step towards her when he heard her voice.

"− please, don't touch me −" She mumbled and he felt the cold flowing through his body, the tightness in his chest from which his brow arched in pain.

"− return with me to King's Landing −" He choked out pleadingly, wishing only that she would forget what he had said.

That he could go back to the moment that he had walked into her chamber and begin all over again, just throw himself on top of her, panting with longing as he had desired.

"− no −"

He stood for a moment longer looking at her with a blank stare, then turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

He flew through the skies, screaming along with the lightning in the heavens, furious and distraught, pressing his face against his saddle.

He was a mere fool, a weak brat who destroys everything in his path.

He walked into the Red Keep furious, tired and discouraged, the thought of not seeing her for a few more days drove him mad.

He laid down on the bed in his chamber, trying to sleep, exhausted − however after moment his servant entered his chamber, saying that the King was expecting him.

He thought that in the state he was in now, without his wife being able to calm him down, he might have killed him.

Aegon welcomed him in his chamber, sitting at a large table, having just eaten his morning meal.

"Welcome, brother. Sit down and speak." He said lightly, taking a sip of wine, wasting no time since the morning.

He, however, just stood, looking at him indifferently, thinking on whether if he cut his throat now he would be able to throw it at one of his servants.

"Jace came to Winterfell right after me. Fucking honourable Starks don't forget their oaths." He said dispassionately − Aegon sighed heavily, stroking his chin.

"Grandfather will not be pleased." He said lightly, as if his younger borther had just broken a very valuable vase and was about to be punished for it − he chuckled under his breath at that thought.

"Of course. He's the one who actually wears the crown, not you." He hissed; Aegon looked at him warningly, and for a moment they stared at each other, tension hanging in the air between them. Finally, however, his brother grinned as if remembering something.

"I am sending you and Criston to Harrenhal." He said calmly, and he froze, looking at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"An uprising has broken out in support of our sister-whore. They've hanged our Lord Strong in his castle. You have to deal with it, because I don't think we want the other Lords to consider revolting as well?" He asked, plucking one grape from the bunch, taking it into his mouth with a loud crunch of juice.

He looked at him horrified and pale, unable to utter a word.

"For how long?" He asked uncertainly, and his brother laughed under his breath as if he found his question amusing.

"As long as you deal with it." He said softly, taking another grape in his hand. Aemond thought for a long time, looking at him.

"In this case, I'm taking my wife with me as soon as she returns from Storm's End." He said with emphasis, intertwining his hands behind his back, impatient.

He couldn't allow her to be left alone with his brother, much less after the way he had treated her.

He knew that he had to try to make it up to her, but he didn't know what could make her forget such hurtful words.

"You are to set off immediately." Said his brother in an unobjectionable tone, raising an impatient gaze at him. "Your wife will be safe here and will wait patiently for you."

He looked at him with his lips pressed together, his heart pounding like mad.

He was doing this on purpose.

He wanted to push him away from her, so that she would remain in the keep completely defenceless.

"No." He hissed low, squinting. "I will fly with my wife, or not at all."

Aegon stood up slowly, walking around the table, watching him closely. He smiled broadly.

"Be careful or I'll think you've fallen in love with her. Don't be silly. It wasn't a request. Do you want your wife to become a widow?" He asked lightly, raising an eyebrow, waiting for his answer.

He looked at him in disbelief, his lip parted slightly.

The power drove him completely mad.

He wondered what they had done, putting him on the throne, placing a crown on his empty head.

Aegon, seeing his lack of response, patted him on the shoulder, exactly like the day that he'd taken him to the brothel.

"Get that matter sorted out and go back to fuck your wife as much as you like, brother."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

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[starogeorgina]

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧

Warnings: Hints of violence, character death, swearing

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen × OC

1.11

As you stand atop the hill of Rhaenys, watching as the masses are hurled like cattle towards the red keep, you hear the distant roar of a dragon approaching. The sky darkens as Vhagar swoops in from above, her dark scales glistening in the sunlight. It was hard to believe that the she-dragon was once ridden by Queen Visenya Targaryen during Aegon’s conquest, and after she died of a sudden illness, Prince Baelon Targaryen was the legendary dragon's next rider, followed by the late lady Laena Velaryon. A war-hardened dragon such as Vhagar deserves better than to be ridden by a kinslayer.

As you witness the dragons finally land on top of another hill, a feeling of anger begins to burn inside of you. You think about all the lives lost, all the families torn apart, and all the destruction that has been wrought upon House Targaryen. Your heart aches with grief and rage, and you vow to do whatever it takes to protect your remaining children.

As the chaos around you subsides, you feel a wave of exhaustion and grief wash over you.

Aeron, Harys, Aegon, Lucerys.

The weight of the losses your family has suffered, including the destruction caused by your own brother—your husband—becomes almost too much to bear. You collapse to the ground, tears streaming down your face as you mourn for the lives lost and the damage done.

Aeron, Harys, Aegon, Lucerys.

You mount Dallax and fly closer to the keep. As you continue to witness the coronation about to start taking place in the carriage that Aemond would be in, your rage begins to consume you. You can no longer see reason or think clearly, and all you can focus on is your desire for revenge against Aemond, which overtakes all logic.

As you contemplate the weight of the news, a dark thought begins to take hold in your mind. The memory of your firstborn son, lover, and nephew being killed by your husband, the new ‘king’, floods your thoughts. He had taken everything from you, including the life of the only person who would truly understand your pain, the only person who would be able to reason with you.

Dallax circles the castle a few times, letting out deafening roars and belching plumes of fire that set the empty grounds below ablaze, and before your mind fully comprehends your next instructions, you direct Dallax towards the part of the castle where Aemond’s quarters are and utter the words no dragon rider should say so easily.

“Dracarys.”

—

You arrive at Dragonstone, where your sister's army is waiting outside, ready to sacrifice their lives fighting for their queen.

The silence is eerie, and the only sound you hear is the gasps of those who see you walking through the hallways with dirt, ash, and blood covering your clothes, face, hair, and body as you make your way towards the chambers of the painted table. Hopefully Rhaenyra would be there so you could confess the outrageous act of war you had just committed. When the wind begins to blow harshly, the smell of smoke and death fills your nostrils, making you gag. You try to push forward, continuing your search for Rhaenyra.

As you approach the door to the room, you see two knights guarding it, one of them being Ser Erryk. Soon as the knight notices you, he swings the door open and calls for Prince Daemon, announcing your arrival.

As you wander through the room, you start to notice that nobody standing around the painted table can make eye contact with you. Lords avoid you, and even Princess Rhaenyes and Lord Corlys seem to be shying away from you. You start to feel a sense of unease and wonder what has happened in your absence.

A lump forms in your throat, and your voice begins to crack as you try to speak. Tears flow down your face uncontrollably as you struggle to maintain your composure.

“Empty the room!” Daemon barks before coming to stand in front of you, "Theodora."

Your words turn to sobs as you explain everything that happened to the best of your ability. “It’s my fault they’re dead,” you croak. “I tried to save Lucerys; I did; I tried to reach him in time."

Overwhelmed by emotion, you fall to your knees and continue to cry. You feel a deep sense of despair and desperation; the only thing keeping you from completely losing your mind was the need to hold and comfort your daughters. Your body shakes with sobs, and you feel helpless and lost.

Daemon crouches down in front of you and tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “When word of what happened at Storm’s end reached Dragonstone, Rhaenyra immediately left to search for her son's body, but fishermen recovered a boy from the sea, a boy they swear they saw fall from the sky before his dragon crashed into the water.”

You can hardly believe what you're hearing. After all the devastation and loss, the news that your nephew may survive brings a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. But you know it’s nothing more than your mind playing tricks on you; Lucerys was dead. You saw him die.

“He unbuckled his belt and leaped from Arrax, but Lucerys has been unconscious since he was brought home. He still may not survive.”

Tears roll down your cheek. “He’s alive?”

Daemon nods slowly.

“My son? Is he alive?"

“He is, princess.”

You fall forward and let out a loud wail. Aeron was alive; you’d get to see your sweet boy again. “Thank the gods." You notice tears forming in Daemon’s eyes when you lean back again. “And Aegon?”

“Badly wounded, he used his body to shield—Aeron.”

You scramble to stand again, but the pain in your stomach prevents you from doing so. Daemon offers you his hand to help you stand. “How bad is it?”

“The maesters say it’s pretty severe on one side.”

You wipe your eyes, smudging the soot on your face. “I need to see Aeron and my girls. Where are they?”

“I think it would be best if you bathed first.”

Exhausted, you huff, “I do not care about my appearance, uncle; I just want to see—”

“And you will,” he says, cutting you off. Daemon calls two servants in, ordering them to prepare your bath and to summon the maester. “Trust me, you need to bathe and be seen by a maester first.”

“No, I need to see my children, then, Aegon.”

“Aegon is at high risk of infection; they won’t allow you to see him in this state." Although his tone is harsh, there’s a hidden pain behind Daemon's eyes. “Your children will be scared if they see you like this.”

“I need to see them before talking to Rhaenyra.”

Daemon steps closer to you, letting out a deep sigh. “You can explain setting parts of the red keep on fire once you’ve seen them and been checked by a maester.”

Reluctantly, you agree.

—

The prince consort grits his teeth as he stares at the table in front of him. How many of these houses would change their allegiance now that they knew what Aemond was capable of? The lords and ladies of Westeros would say whatever it took to save their people. Not that the prince blamed them; deep down, he knew he’d commit any sin or break any oath to protect his family.

“You didn’t tell her.”

Hearing the hints of a scalding tone in Princess Rhaenys’s voice, Daemon clicks his tongue. “No, I didn’t.”

“She will find out one way or another.”

“I am aware,” he says sharply.

Rhaenys has been the voice of reason many times during council meetings; however, the princess wasn’t shy about calling others out, and now wasn’t the correct time to approach the prince, not when he was trying to figure out the blacks next move.

“Why did she need a maester?”

Daemon turns to face her, the look on his face making it clear he was already disinterested in the conversation. “The princess—”

“The princess?” Rhaenys chuckles. “What was it called her before? An insufferable Hightower cunt, I believe?”

“That was before she sacrificed the life growing inside her to try and save Lucerys.” He looks over Rhaenys shoulder and watches as the sun dips below the horizon. “Theodora’s bump is gone, and as she doesn’t have the child with her, I'm presuming the babe died. So I thought it was best not to say anything until she’s seen by the maester.”

As Daemon’s words sink in, a fleeting smile forms on the older woman's lips. It's rare for anyone to see the prince's softer side, let alone in the midst of such turmoil and tragedy. But Daemon showing sympathy to a girl he once considered an enemy was a reminder that not all is lost. Although not for a second did she envy him, as shortly Prince Daemon would need to inform his young niece that her daughter and sister were dead.

[eurydycee]

Winter's Thorn: chapter 1 echoes of duty

⚘ cregan stark x tyrell!OC

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Synopsis: Caught in the political machinations of Westeros, Lady Euphemia Tyrell and her brother Adlyn, Lord Tyrell, Warden of the Reach navigate treacherous alliances to secure their house's future. Summoned to King's Landing, Adlyn strikes a desperate deal with Lord Cregan Stark, unknowingly sealing Euphemia's fate. As winter approaches, House Tyrell must balance duty, loyalty, and survival in a realm fraught with danger.

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format: series (ongoing) word count: ~ 2k warnings: hint of medieval sexism ( realistic ) a/n: hello! this is my very first fanfiction...i currently will only write these series but requests and criticism are always welcome if you want to be tagged comment!! I really hope you will enjoy it as much as I have (english is not even in my top 3 languages haha)

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“Lady Euphemia and her brother the Warden of the Reach, Lord Adlyn Tyrell”

The doors of the Small Council opened for the Tyrell siblings, who were summoned to justify their actions during the Dance of the Dragons.

“Good day to you, my lord, milady,” 

“Your Grace,” replied the pair, bowing with trembling hands. Both were on the cusp of adulthood, grieving their parents, now laid to rest.

“So, if I am correct, House Tyrell supported the claim of…”Cregan, The Hand started 

“Neither, my lord Hand,” interrupted Adlyn Tyrell. “We—”

“That’s all we needed. You forgot your oath to King Viserys and shall now stand trial, along with your sworn houses that also broke their oaths.”

Adlyn clutched his sister’s hand to encourage himself and addressed the young king.

“Your Grace, our father, and House Tyrell chose not to entangle themselves in the Great War out of fear for our lands being burned.”

“Your lands burned?” questioned a council member.

“Indeed, our lands that grow your food, feed the animals you feast upon, and produce the grapes for your wines,” Adlyn continued, his voice rising. “Our lands were kept safe to avoid devastation and ensure the kingdom’s sustenance-“The freshly orphaned young Lord with a heavily pregnant wife started, “-we command the largest population and most fertile ground, and with winter fast approaching, our neutrality was a necessity.”

“Your traitor papa did this for himself, foolish boy not for the harvest.” retorted a council member

“Your Grace, my lords, if I may,” Euphemia interjected softly, her voice melodic and calming. “While we did swear an oath to your late mother the Queen, we also swore a greater oath to The Conqueror when he made us Wardens of the Reach, which was not to interfere during such wars. My father’s decision was not out of selfishness but out of prospects. Winter is coming, my lords” she said, her gaze fixed on the Hand, her words sweet but her expression resolute.

“She is correct, my lord. The winter that is to come will be harsher than any we’ve faced before. Thanks to their neutrality, the Reach survived the Dance with minimal damage, and now we may endure this winter with less difficulty.” Confirmed the Maester 

“If you speak the truth, Lord Tyrell, then your king finds it in his heart to excuse you. However, I expect you to resolve the divisions among your houses. And what of the widows of Hightower?”

“We shall wed them, feed them, and care for them. As for the traitor houses, we will send the men in command to the Wall or they will face the death penalty. Their women will be wed to the opposing houses.”

The Hand leaned forward, eyes sharp

“Very well see that you fulfill these promises, Lord Tyrell. Neutrality in war is no excuse for negligence in peace. The king’s pardon is contingent upon your actions. Do not disappoint him again.

“Thank you, your Grace, my Lord Hand”

The siblings stood, hand in hand, bowed, and departed from the Tower of the Hand.

Outside the chamber, Adlyn stopped in his tracks and turned to his sister, gripping her face so tightly that he felt her earrings pierce his skin. After planting a firm kiss on her head, he said, “You did well, sister. Thank you. Without you, I fear that Lord Stark would have had my head on a spike decorating his very own chamber.”

“Brother, you know I wouldn’t allow such things to happen. Over my dead body would that barbarian touch a single lock of my pretty brother’s head,” Euphemia responded fiercely, twirling a golden curl around her finger.

She then grabbed her brother’s hands excitedly. “Now, shall we finally return home? How I miss Highgarden.”

“Not yet, Coral, we must stay for the king’s coronation and the festivals that follow. Besides a hasty departure might raise suspicion. In the meantime, keep your guard up,” he reminded her, giving her hand a firm squeeze back. “As the northerner said, the king’s pardon is contingent upon our actions.” He then turned and walked down the corridor.

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Cregan Stark’s cheek met the ground of the training field after being struck by a shield.

“Apologies, milord. Didn’t mean to hit ya that hard. Thought ya could dodge it,” his sparring partner said, extending a hand to help him up.

It wasn’t that Cregan couldn’t have avoided the blow. No, his mind was distracted by a sound—not the clang of metal or the cries of battle, but a sweet melody drifting down from the chambers above the training grounds.

“No worries… it’s just that all that singing is making me lose my concentration, friend,” Cregan grumbled as he took the offered hand and stood.

“Oh, you mean the Tyrell girl? Yeah, that pretty girl from the Reach with a pretty voice, pretty brother. She has been making many lose their minds lately,” his friend replied with a chuckle.

Cregan paused, brushing the dust from his clothes. “Lady Euphemia Tyrell, isn’t it? The one who sings?”

“Aye, that’s her. A voice like an angel, they say. She’s really got a way of making even the toughest men turn into fools,” his friend said, shaking his head with a grin.

Cregan frowned slightly, the melody still echoing in his mind. “What is she doing here in King’s Landing?”

“Probably still here with her brother, Lord Adlyn. They’ve been invited to the coronation, haven’t they? A lot of talk about them organizing a tourney in honor of the King,” the sparring partner replied.

Cregan nodded thoughtfully. “Of course, they’ll host the tourney… they come from the fairytale land with knights and pretty girls in sheer gowns. But that voice… it’s hard to stay focused with that drifting down.”

His friend laughed. “You sound smitten, my Lord. Maybe you should go introduce yourself.”

Cregan shook his head, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I have no time for such distractions. There are more pressing matters at hand.”

“Still, it wouldn't hurt to at least see her up close. You might catch a glimpse of what’s underneath that sheer gown ey,” his friend teased, clapping him on the shoulder.

Cregan shrugged his hand off and hung his spear on the rack before heading to his tower, ignoring his friend’s calls to stay and continue training.

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“My Lord Hand, Lord Tyrell wishes to speak with you,” announced a guard.

Cregan nodded, signaling the guard to let Lord Tyrell in.

“Lord Tyrell,” Cregan greeted him as the golden-blond youth entered the room.

“My Lord,” Adlyn Tyrell responded, both men acknowledging each other with a nod.

“I—I have come to ask a boon from you, my Lord,” Adlyn began, his voice tinged with nervousness.

“And what would that boon be?” Cregan inquired, leaning back in his chair, eyes sharp.

“Grant us forgiveness, and you shall have whatever you wish from me,” Adlyn offered, his words earnest but desperate.

“Forgiveness? So, you admit that you committed treason?” Cregan put down his pen, leaning back into his chair.

“Never, my Lord!… Let me rephrase,” Adlyn stammered. “Understand and sympathize with our actions, and you shall have whatever you want from me.”

Cregan considered this for a moment before replying, “I’ll grant your boon.”

“And… in return?” Adlyn asked, relief and anxiety mingling in his voice at how easily Cregan seemed to agree.

“The upcoming winter is harsh, as you said, and the North will endure one of the harshest winters in many years. I ask for more food from the Reach than is normally granted in exchange for this boon, and perhaps a little iron. The war has depleted your mines, has it not?” Cregan’s tone was matter-of-fact.

“Yes, it has,” Adlyn admitted.

“I have one last request… to close our deal,” Cregan continued.

“You mean a treaty?” Adlyn asked, eyebrows raised.

“Sort of. Tell me, is your sister’s maidenhead promised to anyone?” Cregan’s gaze was intense, piercing through Adlyn.

“Well… no, not officially, my Lord,” Adlyn replied hesitantly.

“Very well. All I ask is her hand. I will claim her for myself. Grant me Euphemia, and I’ll grant you your boon. I will treat her kindly and with honor. She’ll become Lady of Winterfell, and her children will be in line after my son, for Rickon, from my late wife, is already my heir,” Cregan stated, his voice firm.

“A hand for a head? Done,” Adlyn agreed, though his heart quivered for his sister. How would she feel being sold off to a man she did not choose, especially after being orphaned so recently? Would she see that her brother meant no harm to her?

Cregan watched Adlyn closely, noting the internal struggle. “You do what you must for your house. I understand that more than most. But rest assured, Euphemia will be treated with the respect she deserves,” he said, his voice softening slightly.

Adlyn nodded, his mind racing with thoughts of how to break the news to his sister. He hoped she would understand his intentions were for the survival and prosperity of their house.

———————————————————————------------------------- The twilight sky painted the gardens of the Red Keep in shades of purple and gold. Euphemia strolled along the flower-lined paths, her fingers lightly brushing the petals of blooming roses. Her brother, Adlyn, followed closely, his expression a mix of melancholy and determination.

“Adlyn, these gardens remind me so much of Highgarden,” Euphemia said, her voice tinged with wistfulness. “The way the flowers bloom, the scent of the roses... It feels like home.”

Adlyn nodded, his gaze distant. “Yes, it does. Highgarden’s beauty is unmatched, but this comes close.”

Euphemia turned to her brother, a soft smile on her lips. “Do you remember the summer festivals? Father would host grand feasts, and Mother would sing under the stars.”

Adlyn’s expression softened at the memory. “I do. Those were simpler times.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the evening air cool against their skin. Euphemia stopped by a fountain, watching the water trickle down the stone. “I miss it, Adlyn. I miss the laughter, the music, the sense of peace. I miss them,”

Adlyn swallowed hard, his heart heavy with the burden of what he had to say. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, the words catching in his throat. How could he tell her about the arrangement with Lord Stark? How could he look into her eyes and shatter her world?

Instead, he forced a smile and said, “Speaking of simpler times, are you looking forward to the tourney for the King’s coronation?”

Euphemia’s eyes lit up. “I do! I am sure it will be grander than any tourney in recent memory. Will we be presenting House Tyrell?”

Adlyn nodded, relieved by the change in topic. “Yes, we will. Our brother, Ser Crayn, will be participating. He’s been training tirelessly for a ’worthy’ tourney.”

Euphemia’s smile widened. “Crayn is a fine knight. He will do us proud.”

Adlyn couldn’t help but share in her enthusiasm. “And my wife wrote to me that she is due to give birth any day now. She wishes she could be here for the tourney, but she should remain in Highgarden.”

Euphemia’s eyes softened. “I’m sure she’s in good hands. And we’ll be back with her soon enough, with a new child to welcome.”

Adlyn nodded, though his heart ached with the weight of unspoken words when his sister mentioned their return… uninformed about her cruel fate“Yes, I hope so. The birth of our son will bring some much-needed joy to our house.”

Euphemia held his arm gently. “You’re going to be a wonderful father, Adlyn. Just like our father was to us.”

He looked at her, his heart full of love. “Thank you, Euphemia. That means a lot to me.”

As they continued their walk through the gardens, Adlyn’s thoughts drifted back to the conversation he couldn’t bring himself to have. He knew the moment would come when he would have to tell her, but for now, he cherished this moment of peace and the semblance of normalcy it brought. The serenity of the evening provided a temporary refuge from the storm that awaited them.

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don't repost, copy, or steal my work.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Rising of the moon and the revenant

Frollo x nuns! readers

warning : obsession, manipulation, drinking blood, murder happened (getting rid of a corpse), Frollo is a creep, no use of Y/n, fluff/comfort (as far as you can call it fluff)

Summary : The evening is over the night is here new prayers and the devil have laid on him. He wasn't punished he was promoted he got something he deserved for a long time. Her chaste heart doesn't know what shadow has fallen on her this night. Something that will become her dreadful nightmare.

info : The second chapter of the Frollo mini series i'm glad you liked the first part (thanks for any support) i had fun writing it and hope you enjoy reading it ;)

masterlist

Part.1, Part.3, Part.4, Part.5

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Faith makes you strong. Faith can mean many things: faith in oneself, in one's family and friends, faith in humanity, in the king and queen of the throne. Or faith goes into the writings of the great philosophers who changed the world with their words, the deeds of heroes who made the world hold its breath.

Or it was the belief in heaven and hell in which both God and the devil ruled and reigned. They were places of infinite redemption and infinite pain.

On the clouds dressed in pure white singing with the angels and being at peace or in hell burning in the stages of hell, bleeding and being torn apart by demons, devils and other creatures that overcame human understanding and knowledge. But faith gives and takes. It can give you strength by simply praying or faith can take everything away if you go against God's plans.

But while God seemed to be everywhere in every life he had created, even the earth itself, the devil was all the darker. In the shadows, in the sins, in the sins of the seventh death, in the bodies of whores and drunken men. In the shadows of the streets pervaded by murder and lust.

The cats, bats, wolves and rats dark creatures who obeyed him who obeyed his demons who obeyed a revenant.

Revenants, the once living humans who could not help it until a certain time when they let sin into their hearts. The bite of evil was enough to poison people's hearts and make them scratch the inside of the coffin after their death.

Scratching and screaming could be heard until the revenants were dug up and set free or, better still, left to rot in the ground. But there was always someone who could escape from their coffin, a creature, a monster, a creature that had to be wiped out, a revenant like the ones in the church books. But it was just such a creature that got free, which Paris chose as his hunting ground for a while.

For a world of decades and centuries he saw the construction, the wars, the royal families rise and fall. Until his time came and he grew tired of it all...but there was one last thing he wanted to do.

He wanted a successor, he wanted a monster, a creature that would carry on his deeds with even greater bloodlust. A bloodlust that he had found in someone who would not be more perfect.

The judge Claude Frollo, a man of power and duty for the entire city. But above all, it was a man who represented the other side of his coin. He was the side of the living and the monster was the side of the dead.

He had been given many names, but when he gave him the kiss of death, his teeth drew blood and the poison of his own blood spilled into his youth, it was done and the dark shadows continued to move across the lands.

But now he had it, Frollo had it all back, he had life, he had strength and he had power. More power than he could ever have.

This bite of his faith that had been his back then when he had taken Quasimodo in because he was in awe of God, of the holy ones and still had something on the word of the Archdeacon. But now, when he had tasted the blood after coming home, something was completely different.

It was more aromatic and more intense than any alcohol or food he had ever tasted. Everything seemed more intense, the creaking of the wooden floorboards of his house all the louder, the sounds of the night ringing in his ears and his own voice strange.

It was unusual, like waking up from a trance after satisfying his bloodlust. ,,What fascinating powers the devil can give," he murmured and wanted to look at himself in the mirror in his room to see if he looked like the creature himself, but instead he backed away.

The mirror, the large gilded mirror, didn't show him...or didn't seem to show an image. Putting his hand to the cool material he saw only what his eyes saw he could look down and see that he was not a mass of bats but perhaps it was time, the record of the revenants was old but he must still have it somewhere.

,,Like years before by the power of blood" he whispered his thoughts to himself as he saw how he didn't look the same as two decades ago but the traces of age seemed to fade slightly as he searched through the books in the private library.

His eyes flew over the pages at a speed that almost made him dizzy everything seemed different and yet pleasantly different. It was the gift of the devil, the demon who had heard his prayers and voices...he had heard his demands for her.

His beloved, his nun, his one and only, whom he had craved and wanted ever since he had laid his eyes on her. It was natural that someone so good as he had been doing his duties and his job as judge of the city for decades was rewarded with things beyond materialistic coins and other objects.

It was his reward from the god of the underworld, the hell that controlled everything dark and negative, who heard him because God was already in his heart. ,,He wants me to bring you to me, to ruin your sins," he wandered on with his thoughts, not realizing how he was almost effortlessly emerging into the shadows of his house without realizing it.

It was a power he had yet to realize, a power he had yet to harness, a power he had yet to use after he had gained it through work and his righteousness. He continued to teleport through the house in the dark until the cold smell hit his nose.

The stable boy. He had killed him just as the Judge saw it as he walked out of his house into the shadows still not quite sure what his power was but when he saw the bath the body parts scattered in the straw and the dark red looking black without the moonlight he wrinkled his nose at the smell of what he had done. Well, I'll take care of that later, he thought, but left Snowbald in the stable and let his hand wander over the animal.

The stallion was warm and full of life he listened to the quiet heartbeat even though Snowbaldd realized that something was wrong and nudged him which made Frollo smile, ,,You felt it, didn't you?" he asked the animal who just snorted and waited to see if an owner would come up. But why go up at night when he could do something much better, when he could do what he could only do during the day...he could finally get to her.

Turning away from his house, he looked around him, his neighborhood was a little further away from the common people anyway, from the rich only a few streets away, he was relatively alone. No one would see him, not even if he walked with the darkness, he knew exactly where he had to go. Where she lived. Where she slept.

Focusing on her location and a blink of an eye later he found her in the darkness neither it seemed like a simple shift but it was longer but before you realize it and the tingle appeared it was over. ,,Fascinating," he murmured and continued through the darkness, running and teleporting further and further, spared even by the light of the moon.

He was the darkness, he was the horror, he was now the evil Paris had to fear and he would use his new power to get it. His figure flitted through the night, sneaking from the streets to the alleys and houses until he arrived at the attic apartment below, where there was a flower store, pretty and colorful by day and dark by night. But he knew that she lived upstairs under the roof with the iron balcony that gave her a view of the cathedral.

Standing below, he concentrated on the balcony, knowing that he was coming up there. Concentrating again on the dark, he dissolved for a moment into the dark shadows and arrived at the top of the balcony. Looking behind him, he had to suppress a grin as he realized how strong he was, how good he would be, how powerful he was.

But his attention went to the room when he heard her heartbeat he was quiet she seemed to be sleeping maybe dreaming but most of all he didn't notice her when he went into her room and emerged from the darkness behind her curtains. ,,So innocent...blood-rich...heartfelt...so desired" Frollo mumbled as he saw her nun's robe folded on the chair but not the rosary that went to her bed a simple but sufficient for her he saw that she was holding something under the covers.

She was lying on her side, her eyes closed and her hair visible, which was usually hidden under the dark fabric. Feeling this newness in him, he wanted her even more than before, this time he wanted her completely from her body to her mind to her blood and her soul. He wanted her completely for himself.

Leaning over her, he placed his deathly cold hand on her cheek for the first time. He touched an angel for the first time, he seemed to feel the holy scripture, what he always wanted.

He had faith in his hand, the heaven he prayed for, he had her. Moving over her cheek he slowly traced the shape of her lips came closer to her his body moved to her bed quietly inaudible.

She slept in her sweet head, probably things were going on that would soon be filled by him. She smelled sweet not surrounded by incense or the scent of wax from the candles, no old beeb sides no she smelled sweet when she was not surrounded by the house of god. It was a sweet smell that radiated from her heart.

It was beguilingly captivating and he wanted it he seemed to want to hold it in his hands felt his fangs forming like when he had attacked the stable boy.

He could have her here and now, he could take her here and now, and yet as he came closer to her neck his hand held her even if she was asleep and didn't notice him, he wouldn't allow a disturbance. It would be easy to take her, to bite her, to drink the sweetness that attracted him next to her.

He came closer to her neck, his teeth scraping the skin, drawing blood slightly, but then he felt a sting. His hand, which had lifted the blanket, revealed her beautiful body adorned with a light white nightgown.

Her body so accessible he would have wanted to know when she was standing how she looked moving slightly back and forth in the moonlight when the wind blew around her.

But as beautiful as she was, the feel in his hand as he gripped her hand was real, it was something like it reminded him of his old life as if he had lived in this new existence forever.

Incredulous, he pulled himself back into the shadowed window and looked down at his hand in disbelief, a burn mark was visible but already healing. The rosary flashed through his mind as he approached her again and saw with a consumed smile that bared his sweet teeth that he was healing away from her.

In her hand was the rose cross, his gift of holiness before he engaged with the devil, it was pure irony. ,,You didn't know, dear?" he asked the sleeping woman and let his hands wander over her body once more, coming closer to her but shaking himself from the rosary, it was uncomfortable, it still seemed to burn slightly but it taught him lessons like a little boy, he had to start to understand it all.

Before he left her with a kiss on her lips, holding back his desire and unable to taste it, he would. He disappeared from her room, the street and the houses and went back to his own house.

He disappeared from the dark into his home again and spent the last hours of the night reading and writing things down in books and writings.

The hours went by and it seemed as if everything was passing all the more quickly, as if all life was passing all the more quickly. He was still lying in his room when the rooster's cry and the people's voices slowly became louder and more present.

,,The people are waking up again without knowing what has happened," he murmured as he looked out, his eyes having to adjust a little to the brightness, but as he held his hand in the light, not knowing whether it would burn or crumble to dust, it was extinguishable.

It was much warmer than usual on a late spring day but he could stand it as he didn't have to go outside that often. But something came to his mind when he saw the town guards patrolling and taking up their positions again, the stable boy.

The light one who happened to be lying brutally murdered with him, ,,It's a tragedy such a young life someone must be held responsible...search the wagons of the traveling people, search the bars and strengthen the guards in the poor parts of the city...I want honesty!" he told the commander of the city guard and saw that the blond felt sorry and uncomfortable as they stood in front of the judge's stable.

Froll had waited a few moments before running to the guard post, out of breath and shaken, he had told them what had happened, fearing for himself and his horse that someone was after him.

It was a simple matter for the guard to take the body and only a few hours later his stable looked like a new stable boy had been found and Phoebus was dealing with the case.

Once again his position of power proved to bring him more than just influence it was his control over the entire city. But he didn't have control over it much to his chagrin because after still having to deal with all the paperwork of his job he got on Snowball and rode to the church knowing she was gone knowing she came to the church from her job at the orphanage to help out where she could.

The church he called into his head on the stairs it was only hours ago was almost unbelievable if he didn't feel the bites himself. As he left Snowball and stepped into the church, a shudder came over him.

It was fear, discomfort and danger that told him he shouldn't be here it was completely different and yet....there she stood by the candles feeling them so that the people could mourn their dead.

He walked over to her, leaning on the benches and pillars every now and then when his body stopped in fear, the gazes of the angels and holy figures seemed to judge him. It was a shock, but she was his angel when he came to her, she revealed herself to him and came over to him.

But as soon as he came to him, he saw her wearing a second layer of fabric around her neck, ,,Good morning my dear, I hope you slept well...if I may, you look a little tired," he said and pointed to the bench to sit down, which she did, folding her hands in her lap.

He saw her pondering as her gaze went over the colors and finally to him, even though she always lowered her gaze, almost not noticing how formal and from she was.

Before she finally admitted, ,,Yes, I had a nightmare, nothing serious it seemed like shadows were plaguing me," she admitted and clasped her rosary that hung around her neck tighter around the expensive materials and prayed in silence.

It was the same tool that healed him from her and perhaps this was good for a moment, ,,I think the food at my place will give you a good night's sleep, can I expect you tonight?" he asked and slowly rose from the bench again, not only did he feel the fear leave him but his desire for his new food was gone and he had to strike again.

He saw the young nun stand up, let go of her rosary and move slightly, answering him with a ,,I'll be there at eight o'clock, Judge Frollo." She set a time that suited him, so he had plenty of time to prepare everything and feast on a new victim, blaming it on another accident or fugitive.

He turned away with a nod and said to her last, ,,Shadows are only shadows my dear they always surround us" before he left her back in the church and hurried out of the sacred building faster than he wanted to and was glad to be back with Snowbald on whom he mounted and took the reins.

The sun is getting too hot, he thought and ran his hand over his forehead as he looked up at the sky and steered his stallion back towards his house.

His new body had advantages, very good advantages, advantages that made him even more of what he was meant to be. The judge of the world a world full of sins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@oceansrose2002 , @aliensthegreat , @siwucha , @sweet-lil-truffla

[jacaela]

RHAENYRA AND SYRAX

She was bold as well, becoming a dragonrider at the age of seven when she took to the sky on the equally young dragon she had named Syrax, after an old Valyrian goddess.

Uncle and niece began to fly together almost daily, racing Syrax against Caraxes to Dragonstone and back.

With Driftmark and Dragonstone so close, Daemon and Laena oft visited with the princess, and her with them. Many a time they flew together on their dragons, and the princess’s she-dragon Syrax produced several clutches of eggs.

“That would leave King’s Landing naked and vulnerable. Nor will she risk Syrax, or that last sweet son of hers. Rhaenyra may call herself a queen, but she has a woman’s parts, a woman’s faint heart, and a mother’s fears.”

Six dragons remained in King’s Landing, but only one within the walls of the Red Keep: the queen’s own she-dragon, Syrax. A stable in the outer ward had been emptied of horses and given over for her use. Heavy chains bound her to the ground. Though long enough to allow her to move from stable to yard, the chains kept her from flying off riderless. Syrax had long grown accustomed to chains; exceedingly well-fed, she had not hunted for years.*

Syrax was the queen’s dragon. She had never known another rider.

The loss of both her dragon and her son left Rhaenyra Targaryen ashen and inconsolable, Mushroom tells us.

*Some complain that Syrax did not hunt and was fed. Completely forgetting that many Targaryen dragons were kept in a dragon pit/stables and were also fed.

In answer, King Jaehaerys descended the Iron Throne and bade Lord Rogar follow him. He led his lordship from the hall to the inner ward where Vermithor was being fed. A bull had been slaughtered for his morning meal and lay upon the stones charred and smoking, for dragons always burn their meat before consuming it.

"So he made certain they did not know, sliding from his bed at dawn whilst they still slept and stealing down to the outer yard where Vhagar and the other dragons were fed and stabled*. The prince had hoped to mount Vhagar in secrecy, but as he crept up to the dragon a boy’s voice rang out. “You stay away from her!”*

Rhaenys’s own she-dragon, Meleys the Red Queen, had grown lazy, but remained fearsome when roused.

[thevelaryons]

Something noteworthy about Addam is that he is always extra vigilant in regards to other people’s safety. There are several instances in the book which highlight this:

One by one the dragons made their descent. Sheepstealer lighted atop Visenya’s Hill, Silverwing and Vermithor on the Hill of Rhaenys, outside the Dragonpit. Prince Daemon circled the towers of the Red Keep before bringing Caraxes down in the outer ward. Only when he was certain that the defenders would offer him no harm did he signal for his wife the queen to descend upon Syrax. Addam Velaryon remained aloft, flying Seasmoke around the city walls, the beat of his dragon’s wide leathern wings a caution to those below that any defiance would be met with fire.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Alone of the four dragons on the field that day, Seasmoke had a rider. Ser Addam Velaryon had come to prove his loyalty by destroying the Two Betrayers and their dragons, and here was one beneath him, attacking the men who had joined him for this fight. He must have felt duty bound to protect them, though surely he knew in his heart that his Seasmoke could not match the older dragon.

This was no dance, but a fight to the death. Vermithor had been flying no more than twenty feet above the battle when Seasmoke slammed into him from above.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Despite the other dragonriders landing to safety in King’s Landing, Addam chooses to keep a watchful eye on them from above. When Addam & Seasmoke were locked in the midst of the battle with Tessarion in the sky, Addam was clearly keeping his attention on his men on the ground at the same time, so he immediately saw when Vermithor started attacking them and reacted accordingly.

I tend to think his heightened vigilance was the result of a previous incident in which he might not have been as careful as he later becomes.

When he stumbled from the dragon’s lair with his cloak aflame, only his brother’s swift action saved his life. Seasmoke drove the wild dragon off as Addam used his own cloak to beat out the flames. Alyn Velaryon would carry the scars of the encounter on his back and legs for the rest of his long life.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Addam did act quickly to save his brother’s life (and that he was able to act at all suggests that he was watching over Alyn during the Red Sowing) but Alyn was still injured in his attempt to claim a dragon. In this instance, Addam might have felt that if only he had been even more vigilant, he could have prevented Alyn getting burned altogether. This then results in Addam displaying a greater sense of vigilance as the story progresses.

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: A Requiem (End of the Fall, pre-war)

(A/N: A young Arya attends a very important event. This memory is eventually to be used in a future story series. I didn't reread this but I'll probably be doing edits over time.)

~~~

MODERN INHERITANCE: A REQUIEM

The sun was shining. For all things, it was a beautiful day. Golden beams lit the edges of floating forget-me-nots and set the throats of white lilies along the path burning with resplendent fire. 

But the birds did not sing. The insects that buzzed and hummed were silent. The only creature daring to bring noise to the forest was Blagden, a mournful, keening melody rising and falling as he perched atop the Menoa tree.

Mum’s hand was cold. Arya had to keep adjusting her grip, holding tight to limp fingers. She had already cried all she could, eyes wide and gritty despite washing her face three times. The tip of her nose and her cheeks felt raw from hours of trying to clear the tears, sniffling and gasping and hiccuping as the truth kept coming back.

“Evandar was felled on the Plains of Ilirea.” 

‘My Da is dead. He won’t wake up again. He won’t talk again. He won’t hug me again. My Da is dead….’ 

Mum had held her all night, almost too tightly to even breathe, silent, frighteningly silent. Never answering Arya’s sobbed questions of why, why, why.

Arya could not settle on if she preferred the hollow silence to the terrifying, ragged screams that came before. The wails of…of someone torn away. 

She had heard those sounds before. When others had been told. 

But Mum had never made those sounds. Mum had never…she had never needed to, Da was always back, he was always….

Arya looked up. Her mother’s face was white as the lilies. Her golden eyes no longer held the radiance of the sun, only the dim, feeble glow of an ember so dangerously close to sputtering out. 

She squeezed her fingers tighter, tried to rouse the woman walking beside her that felt so unlike the mother she knew. ‘Mum, be strong. Please. Please be strong. Da needs us to be strong, he needs us….’

They had all stopped now. Beneath the Menoa tree. A space between the towering roots, where all past kings and queens lay and gave their bodies to feed the greatest monarch of the forest. The casket holding Da slowed and gently settled to the needle strewn ground, the golden pinewood cradling his body as gentle as a mother with a newborn babe. Not even the clematis blooms draped and curling around the graceful engravings swayed, so soft was the care and reverence the gathered elves took with their fallen king.

He looked peaceful. Like the mornings Arya had crept into her parents quarters and clambered into bed with them, cuddled up to them as she remembered doing when so very small. Or the mornings that she bounced them both awake, proclaiming that the day begin with giggles and gentle bouts of wrestling with Da. A lion and his cub, a dragon with his hatchling. 

They had told her he would not wake. He was not sleeping. He was gone to the void, to the darkness that lies beyond. A few had told her his energy was now a part of the wider world. That he would still give to the forest with his flesh, would still be protecting her through that natural process to feed the Menoa tree, to give his lifeblood to the spells that protected their land. 

They had all told her she could not wake him, no matter how hard she tried.

It did not stop her from trying. It did not stop her from climbing over the curved lip of his funerary dais when no one was there.

She curled up against his side, and if she kept her eyes squeezed shut, her forehead pressed into his ribs, little fists bunched tight in the liquid smooth fabric of his most handsome tunic…she could pretend the crook of his arm was not limp against her back. Pretend that she could feel his heart beating. Could hear his voice as he crooned to her and rocked her to sleep. Pretend that he wasn’t cold, that his chest didn’t rise, that he didn’t move or speak or comfort her as tears leaked past scrunched lids.

Mother had been furious when she found her there. Arya did her best to not remember being yanked away from the deceptive pool of warmth her own body heat had created on her father’s skin, the collar of her tunic tight around her throat as she wailed in protest. Did her best to forget that her mother had screamed at her and shaken her and had dragged her away from the room where Da lay alone and cold before collapsing in the hall. 

Arya forced herself to remember only that Mum broke down in tears and pulled her close, cradled her in her lap as they both sobbed until Mum couldn’t any more. 

The singing was louder now. Sylvian voices rising and falling together through silent crying that streaked the faces all around them. Arya didn’t know the words. 

Blagden alighted upon the rim of the dais, white wings flared. He perched behind the crown of Da’s head, the white silver circlet with diamond and emerald and gold that once was the raven’s favorite thing to nibble and nip to bait his dear friend into focusing on his feathered companion now a reminder of loss. Blagden’s voice keened above them all, the sorrowful song of mourning constant since the battle’s end. 

Many words were said. Memories of her father from many people she did not know. Däthedr wept as he spoke, open and unabashed. So did the others. 

The entire time, Arya watched and listened to them all with wide, red rimmed eyes. So many people knew Da. She hadn’t realized just how many. He was just Da to Arya, not Evandar Könungr, just…Da. The one who tucked her in, taught her to skip stones, carried her on his shoulders, made flowers bloom at a single touch and caught her when she fell.

Then the talking was finished. 

Blagden took flight. The singing began again. 

For the first time that day, Islanzadí’s hand closed around Arya’s, her grip tight and fingers shaking. Arya looked up and saw the tears falling again, dropping to the needles at her mother’s feet as she joined the singing, a pain in her voice that Arya had only heard in her screams the days before. 

She could understand most of what they sang. An acknowledgement of loss, of an end, a new beginning for the elves, and, over all of it, a farewell.

This…this was goodbye? Already? Now?

The earth beneath the dais shifted, flowing away as a column of roots remained, supporting the casket above a gaping maw of darkness. The dais, Da’s body still ensconced so peacefully upon it, began to lower into the earth.

Arya knew he was gone. She knew, she knew that. That he was dead, Da was dead, he couldn’t talk to her anymore or hold her anymore or be him anymore but–

Mum was there, then. Kneeling, still singing her farewell, tears rolling down her cheeks. Hands on Arya’s shoulders, tight, stopping her from running forward. Before she could even suck in a breath to scream for her Da to not go. 

And yet, Islanzadí never looked at her. She kept her eyes fixed on her life-mate’s disappearing body, face white, tremors passing from her fingers to her child’s thin shoulders. 

The last piece he had left her. The only thing of Evandar truly left in this world.

The casket was even with the ground now. Arya saw her father’s face one last time. Peaceful. Cold. 

Arya squeezed her eyes shut. 

And when she opened them again, all that remained of her father was a bed of clematis flowers, lilies and forget-me-nots, sprawled out on the forest floor.

‘Goodbye, Da.’

[myfandomprompts]

To Risk It All | Chapter 1

Aemond x Dragonrider!OC

Summary: Daera arrives in King's Landing. Aemond remembers her vividly.

Tags: possessive!Aemond, angst, mature, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, slow burn, obsession, blood, canon divergence, king Aemond, smut and fluff, dragons, war, F&B spoilers. | Prologue - Masterlist

Though Daera had never stepped foot in King's Landing before, the Dragonpit was unmistakable as she glided down her dragon towards the sandy ground, the Dragonkeepers welcoming her as they once did with Laenor. The red towers of the castle were visible in the distance, the chaotic sound of the city rising in the air as well as the stench that came along with it. All of this was so new to her. Once in the carriage that would lead her to Aegon’s Hill, she wondered what her mother and cousins had planned upon their delayed arrival. Would they demand justice, revenge?

Leaving the Queen, she was led to her brother’s temporary chambers. Upon seeing him again, Daera did not hesitate to throw herself in his arms, holding him tightly as if she feared he would disappear. His purple eyes were red with exhaustion, his small figure pressing against her chest as she held him close. She asked about him, but Daemion only voiced a weak affirmation before diving back into a worrying silence.

“Mother and father’s cousins are on their way, they will be there soon. Then we will go home,” she assured him, stroking his silver curls fondly.

His silence endured and she could do nothing but respect it, basking in their shared embrace before they were led to the royal sept. She held her brother’s hand while she paid her respects to their father, trying to not care for the gruesome state of his head under the white linen while Daemion stared at the ground, speechless.

Daera could feel him trembling, so she squeezed his hand harder.

Soon nightfall came and Daemion had still not said a word to her and when they came back to their apartments within Maegor’s Holdfast. The ghost of their father floated around them like a cold breeze, icing their blood, making them feel so alone, so powerless.

She asked him if he was tempted by a nightly ride upon Seasmoke, hoping to spark something other than sorrow in his eyes, but he only dismissed her with a curt shake of the head. “Daemion… we must be strong. Carry on what he left behind for us, and for mother. You can cry in front of me, you don’t have to hold your tears.”

He finally looked at her, pain plaguing his expression, and she wanted to wipe it away, make it disappear forever.

“You don’t cry,” he remarked with watery eyes.

“I do. I only reserve my grief for the ones I love, and that is you and mother. Certainly not the court,” she answered with bitterness, thinking about those who had done nothing while Vaemond Velaryon was mercilessly slain before them.

Now all that she hoped was that one day, her brother would be able to overcome the trauma the Rogue Prince had inflicted upon him, upon her family. She would make it so, she promised.

Daemion didn’t say a word, instead wrapped her arms around her, flattening his face against her and her heart ached in affection. “Goodnight, sister.”

As she watched her brother close the door, she realised that she, on the other hand, could not bear to be alone. She was scared to be left with her thoughts in such an unfamiliar place and desired to return to what comforted her.

She glanced at each side of the corridor, trying to remember the location of the stairs that led to the main hall. She moved through the castle silently, her steps leading her through the red faded stoney walls until she reached the outyard, where the night had settled so deep she shivered under her cloak.

“I demand to be taken to the Dragonpit,” she called out to one of the guards standing at the main gate.

“It is the hour of the ghosts, my Lady.”

“And what of it?” Daera said, arching a brow high on her forehead. 

The guard looked at her with a repressed scoff. “So I cannot prepare a carriage only because you wish to see your dragon, I am afraid.”

Daera fumed inside, but was unwilling to give up. “Then find someone to escort me on foot.”

This time, the guard did not hide his snicker. “I do not think that a young Lady such as you should be strolling the streets at this hour.”

“Open the gates.”

Daera turned around to see the newcomer as the guard widened his eyes. She had to narrow hers in order to see properly amidst the shadows of the courtyard but she could recognise the silver hair around his face and the smug demeanour of the man that was now advancing toward them. He wore a long dark green cloak that enveloped his figure, boots scratching the floor.

“Yes, my Prince.”

The guard did as told, gesturing to his counterpart to help him move the heavy doors in order to allow the Prince passage. Once outside of the walls, he suddenly stopped in his tracks to look at her over his shoulders. “Are you coming or not?”

Daera almost jumped, startled to be addressed and scurried to follow him, earning an annoyed look from the guard that closed the gates behind them. The silver-haired man only smirked and resumed his walk, forcing her to catch up with him.

“You are the Velaryon girl. Daera, is it? The Winged Seahorse?” he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye while hastening his pace away from the castle’s gates. “You ride Seasmoke?”

“Yes.”

The way he behaved along with his unabashed confidence left little to no doubt about his identity, and Daera’s suspicions were confirmed when they came to a stop at a junction, now facing each other for the first time.

He looked at her, fully, and she could see the lilac eyes, the curly silver hair, the proud jawline and the redness under his eyes. She had not seen them in years, but it was easy to guess which out of the three children of Viserys Targaryen he was.

“Yes, my Prince. And you are Aegon Targaryen," she concluded, hinting that they had never been introduced properly.

“Indeed, we’ve met once before. But we both grew up since that time,” he said with poise before giving her a onceover. “And for the best, it would seem."

Daera stayed emotionless. “I suppose so. We must live up to our House’s name the best we can. Make them proud.” 

He looked at her for a little while, assessing her features and the way she spoke, trying to decide if the girl was not very quick witted or if she was just careful around him.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he finally said after his study, watching as her eyes turned grimmer at the mention of her father.

“Thank you."

She did not know what to say, and gazed at the paved stone. She had successfully managed to exit the castle grounds but from her position, she had no idea in what direction the Dragonpit was, the night sky hindering her vision.

But her curiosity was piqued by the unexpected encounter, making her momentarily forget about her destination. "May I ask where you are going at this hour, Prince Aegon?”

“The only place I can truly entertain myself,” he smirked. "I would have invited you to come along, but as I understood, you have a dragon to ride.” 

She only nodded, deciding that she did not want to drag a more precise answer out of him by the way he mysteriously looked at her.

“The Dragonpit is this way, you’ll have to cross Fleabottom,” he pointed vaguely to the street on the right. "Keep on and you’ll see the light of the dome from the plaza. I hope the Dragonkeepers are in a good mood,” he added. “For your sake.” 

He reached for his hood to put it over his hair, covering the very recognisable silver of it. “Oh… Thank you.”

“Have a nice flight, Daera.”  

As she watched him stride off southward, she felt jealous of his hood, feeling silly for not having brought one of her own to hide her silver head. Instead she was left to squeeze the fabric of her cloak around her and began walking, thoughts swirling around the oddity of the King’s son.

Were all of his children like this? Helaena? Aemond? Daeron?

She thought about Aemond, the boy she had met with two eyes before he lost one out of pure perseverance. She had seen neither him nor Helena since her arrival, and she knew Daeron to be in Oldtown. But now that she had met one of them, she found herself most curious about the others.

It was a shame that she was to leave as soon as her great cousins’ plea would be heard.

Aemond cursed under his breath when he saw that none of the adjacent streets he had taken were empty, his plan to remain unnoticed moot. His evening ride on Vhagar had been pleasant, a necessity after the dinner that had left him fuming, remembering the sufficient snort of Lucerys Velaryon as the roasted pig was served, and how Jacaerys Velaryon had thought he could provoke him. In fact, Aemond felt vengeful still, much of the ire accumulated within him since that fateful day on Driftmark demanding to be released, and he felt it more and more difficult to keep his rancour at bay. 

The noises of the night owls above and the drunks staggering on the main street steered him away from his murderous thoughts, noticing with relief that he was getting closer to the Red Keep as he walked further up Sour Belley Row. When he took a turn to a street he hoped to be empty, the thoughts invaded him once again.

If only he could challenge Lucerys Valeryon, challenge him in a fight, or even sneak into his room, unseen, and make him beg for him to stop when he would try to take his eye as wel-

A loud laugh echoed from one of the back alleys, and he instantly stopped in his tracks, his jaw clenching. "... the King passes away, head to the dark clear glowing flame that turns as green as the dawn…"

He looked under his hood to search for the source of the voice, only spotting two shadowy forms as another shrilling laugh echoed against the stone walls of the alley. From afar he recognised an old woman he knew blind, talking to a stranger whose back was turned to him. 

He sighed with annoyance; this woman was known to be some sort of seer, overlooked by some, adored by others, and decided to pay it no mind, rather walking away before earning more of her questionable predictions. It was easy for a charlatans like her to announce the death of his father when he had one foot in the tomb, and her sort only deserved his disdain.

But as he casted one last disapproving look to the old crone, he caught sight of the stranger’s silver hair facing her and stilled again.

It was a woman, a young woman that was wearing noble clothes, both blue and black, wrapped around a thick dark marine cloak. A Targaryen? One of Aegon’s bastards? No, she was far too old. An imitator perhaps? Not from her clothes and the way she stood herself. She then turned her face slightly, and curiosity took the better of him at once.

She was too beautiful not to be of noble blood, and there was only one person that possessed her characteristics and was currently in the capital: Daera Velaryon, the girl he had watched grieve Laena Velaryon all of those years ago on Driftmark, and had sometimes after claimed her brother’s dragon, following his own steps.

The one who had led him to the dune where Vhagar slept.

She had grown much, she was nothing like the girl he had met by the seaside. Before he could realise it, his feet had advanced toward the two women on their own, and as he stepped into the light, the white orbs of the seer snapped at him like she had suddenly recovered the ability to see. The Velaryon followed her gaze and took a hasty step back when she realised that he was right behind her, a jasmine fragrance filling the air as she moved.

He could not blame her for her reaction, knowing that he would look rather imposing to her as he beat her both in height and size and bore a hooded cloak that hid most of his face, keeping it in the shadows.

“Ha! There is the vision, the one you will cower under!” continued the old woman, drawing back both Aemond’s and the girl’s gaze on her. 

Then the young woman spoke, allowing him to finally hear her voice for the first time in years, memories coming back to him at the softness of her tone. “I… I don’t understand.”

The seer cackled again and began searching for Daera’s hands, reaching to her front and bringing them into her own. “The God of Flame and Shadow understands, my dear,” she said as she tapped her hand and grinned widely. "You, on the other hand, don't need to."

Aemond was almost certain that the woman had ‘looked’ straight at him as she said her last piece, but he had no time to react for she let out another cackle before letting go of Daera’s hands and proceeded to slowly limp away in the dark alley, holding on to the wall for direction.

Both him and Daera watched as she disappeared in the shadows before she turned to face him, making Aemond remember where he was and where he was going before he had stupidly lost himself in a dark alley. 

He could feel her gaze on him, scrutinising, the scent of jasmine spreading in the air.

“Who are you?” she asked, her eyes searching under the hood that covered his face.

He congratulated himself for letting his sapphire eye bare of leather for that particular occasion. No one could know he was away from the keep, even less recognise him.

“None of your concern, I’m afraid.”

His tone was cold, unforgiving. He wanted to turn away before she could ask any more compromising questions, but his body refused to move, as if it was detached from his brain.

“You smell of dragon.” 

He stopped himself in time from lifting his head completely in reaction, keeping his features safely tucked away in the shadows. Instead, he watched her intensely under his hood as she kept searching for his eye, gears visibly turning behind her violet ones. 

“It’s unwise to insult strangers away at such a late hour. Especially alone,” he answered with all the menacing tone he could muster.

She straightened at that, and if she hadn’t considered him dangerous before, she was now. Or was it prudence? 

“I didn't mean to insult you. I only… I just wanted to head to the Dragonpit by myself, but I got… distracted,” she gestured behind her where the woman had disappeared, staring at the now empty street deep in thought. “I wish to see the dragons for myself.”

“Hm,” he found himself muttering, wondering why in the seven hells he was still standing there instead of being on his way back already. Instead he found the want to goad her, to test her. “Maybe if you had stayed on the main street and avoided being lured by beggars and liars, you would have found it without difficulty.”

He saw her chin lift up at that, like a creature ready to strike, to defend itself. 

Like a dragon.

“Well, if I was lured so easily, like you put it, I wonder what you are doing here,” she said defiantly, “Fancy the words of a liar or do you just have a likeness for dark alleys? Or perhaps more discriminating endeavours?”

He considered her for a moment before letting out a scoff, surprising himself and earning a puzzled look from her. She had the grit of her father, he could give her that. Or was it the fire in her veins, the same that he possessed?

"See the dragons," she had said, instead of explaining that she wanted to ride hers. Just like he had.

Exactly as he had said all of those years ago.

He hummed again, scrutinising her. “Maybe you should ask someone else, there are much more informed people in those streets than old fortune tellers and strangers that smell of dragon. You would be better to take your chance with them.”

He allowed himself a short moment to see her expression shift from defensive to surprised, before turning his back to her swiftly and finally walking away, letting a smile creep at the corner of his mouth.

That was unexpected.

“You think you can protect him? Ha! He will fall, girl, you are powerless against their wits. Grief plagues you all, but so do teeth and claws. Maybe wings will cover his tomb?”

The blind woman's voice kept ringing in her ears as she walked down the main avenue. Protect him? Protect him from what? From who? Was it her brother, she had asked. Was it Daemion? But the woman had not answered her, only mocked her further.

"One candle burns as the King passes away, head to the dark clear glowing flame that turns as green as the dawn and see your heart within it, your future."

What had she meant?

Daera raised her head and exhaled in relief when she saw the enormous roof of the Dragonpit over a nearby building. She began walking again, carefully staying in the dark and avoiding every person she would cross paths with.

The seer had called to her, asked her to approach, but when Daera had said that she had nothing to offer, taking the woman for a beggar, she had seen the white of her eyes and felt compelled to go to her. The old woman had then passed her hand over her face before laughing and speaking mysterious words, taunting her. Should she even take her seriously? 

But against all odds, it was not the most peculiar encounter she had made this evening, and wondered if maybe, the night had more in store for her.

The hooded man that had inexplicably materialised behind her, listening in to the incomprehensible words that were spoken to her, had unsettled her and now occupied her thoughts as she climbed the steps to the Dragon Pit. He was tall and lean, from what she had seen. His voice was soft, but firm, and obviously rather cold as he spoke and she wondered if he always sounded so scathing.

She had only seen his jawline in the dark, the rest of his face hidden from her, but she found herself more intrigued by him than by the blind woman's words. And the smell, sandalwood mixed with smoke. But it was the distinctive scent of dragon that had her eagerly curious. It was the exact same smell as when Princess Rhaenys came back from a ride with Meleys, or as Laenor had once, or as Laena did. Was he a Dragonkeeper? Or maybe just a worker there? Maybe she had been wrong completely, and had mistaken the scent for another odour. But he had not denied it, rather had looked unphased when she had pointed it out. She might think of every possibility but her instincts already knew the truth.

She wondered what the odds were of meeting two Targaryen Princes in one night.

Chapter 2

Thank you @babyblue711 & @arcielee for beta.

Tag list: @knightprincess@baconturtle @witheredoffherwitch @lexwolfhale @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy (sorry I forgot to tag you in the prologue)

[al9ayf]

ᥫ᭡ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫 | trafalgar law x f!reader

✧ chapter 1 :: winged shadow

｡˚ summary: dragon queen reader decides to ally with trafalgar law and monkey d. luffy after the defeat of doflamingo, but you find yourself falling in love with the captain of the heart pirates.

(reader is "loosely" based off khaleesi from got)

law might be a little ooc just a litttleeeeeee

｡˚ word count: 3.4k

throughout all of the summer, the skies were blue—clear, blue skies. always shining, always hot. but today it was grey. so grey that the grass appeared to have no color. nothing had any color. it was all drained. even your face had been drained of all color. trees were drained of their vibrant greens, and birds of different colors all became dark and solemn. it felt empty—as if the earth was dying.

the funeral pyre burned with dragon fire as you stared into it with nothing but sadness in your eyes. you stared into nothingness, straight into that blazing fire. it crackled and spat bits of flame around. it was the only sound you paid attention to. yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to cry. you stood there with your hands intertwined, not moving one bit. this was your mourning. you were to not be disturbed until you made the first move.

after a violent battle between your husband and an enemy, he suffered an almost fatal attack to the heart. but in the final blow, he killed his attacker and later on suffered the consequences of the attacker's hit. and while he was dying you were giving birth. in the end, you lost both your husband and newborn on the same day. all forty thousand of his men stuck by you. you were their sole salvation.

finally, you turned around with tears welling in your eyes and a face that only showed mixed feelings. your trusted advisor and handmaiden, eira, walked up next to you and grabbed one of your hands. she was younger than you, a girl at the age of only eleven. she squeezed it tight which almost caused you to let loose of your tears and fall to the ground. eira noticed your slight change in demeanor and only came up closer to you to try and comfort you. as she comforted you, one of the men from the group came up to you; the commander of the warriors, lexer. you looked up at him, right into his dark eyes. he bent down in front of you on one knee, still looking right into your eyes.

“we will follow you until we no longer walk this earth,” he said in his thick accented voice. “there is no other leader we wish to follow. you belong on the throne, not your brother. you must take it. you are the true queen…”

he bowed his head, and so did every other man and woman that followed. you felt eira let go of your hand, and when you turned your head to look at her, she too was bending the knee to you. everybody was. your white gown blew in the wind (white being the traditional color for funerals in your culture), its cape flying in all different directions as you heard one of your dragons land behind you. it screeched loudly, almost as if it was agreeing with what your army said. you only managed to shut your eyes and allow tears to roll down your cheeks. they were right and you knew it. your brother, the king aenys, was “mad”. he was vile. you knew you were the only person who could take him down. so, you decided to do it. to take the throne and become the queen.

you were only fifteen.

—

four years have passed since that day. after you usurped your brother and executed him by burning him alive, your reign has been one of the best in the history of your family. you conquered even more islands and kingdoms than you could have ever imagined. you were one of the strongest people in the new world since you conquered and controlled a third of it. and your family history with the emperors of the sea only backed you up even more. you have strong allies, strong armies, strong terrains, and dragons. you were not to be fucked with. you were not to be betrayed.

you arrived in sabaody archipelago a few moments ago. they were holding an auction to sell slaves. for a while now, you wanted to stop it. they were to be freed not sold. and finally, you decided to do it. but it was the wrong timing. most, if not all, supernovas were present. they were fighting marines while the celestial dragons walked with their slaves chained behind them. you and your army hid well where nobody could see you. you turned to the commander of your queen’s guard, saxan. lexer stood beside him with his armor and helmet on. dragon wings on the helmet and the sigil of your house banner right in the middle of it. you looked at the army behind them after eyeing what they both were wearing.

“my warriors!” you yelled in your mother tongue, aegrean. “slay the masters, slay the marines, slay every man and woman who hold chains, but harm no child. strike the chains off every slave you see!”

you turned back to look at the two, giving them one last glance before walking away. you were in a remote area of the archipelago where nobody was in due to the chaos. it was perfect for hiding and planning an attack. you walked up to one of your dragons, drago. he was the one you rode ever since you were big enough to even ride a dragon. your two other dragons glaurung and morgul, his brother and sister, were already seeking your attention as they brought their noses up to you. you caressed the sides of it before getting on drago. he ran a few ways before setting off to fly. you grabbed on tight to the saddle and allowed yourself to be calmed by the strong winds.

dragons were faster than humans, so you arrived at the auction house in a matter of minutes. the screeching of your dragons caught the attention of the marines, supernovas, and other folk. when you were close enough to be able to see them right where you wanted them, you let out the word “nār” which meant fire in your mother tongue. drago fired down on them first and then along came the other two. you heard the screaming of everybody, including one of the supernovas especially. when drago flew over them to get to the auction house, you managed to get a closer look at the three. monkey d. luffy, eustass kid, and trafalgar law. the captain of the straw hats was of course the one screaming loudly and excitedly at the sight of dragons raining hellfire onto the marines. you scrunched your nose in annoyance and turned away. you disliked the supernovas.

drago flew over to the auction house and landed on top of it. you were now behind the pirate captains. drago screeched loudly and jumped down onto the ground, breaking the auction house with a whip of its tail. your army came running towards the auction house with their weapons and artillery.

“free the slaves! slay the masters! i shall burn all of this down!” you yelled in aegrean. your dragon screeched even louder as if he was ordering them as well. you looked up at the sky to see the other two dragons continuing to burn the rest of the marines. they would soon leave to burn their ships. there was going to be no means of escape for them. drago turned and looked at the three supernovas in front of him. he growled and yelled as he ran up to them. you watched their faces as drago snarled at them. kid and law seemed a bit freaked out, but luffy only screamed as stars erupted in his eyes.

“she has dragons!” he yelled. “she saved us with them! that is so cool!”

you looked down at him with a blank expression. he was annoying you because he ran around all excited yelling praises about your child. kid smacked him across the head and yelled at him for being annoying. “we didn’t need no saving, she was just getting rid of the remainders for us!”

“it didn’t seem like that!” luffy yelled back.

you turned your head to the third one. law had the faintest smirk spread across his lips as he looked from your dragon up to you. you locked eyes. golden eyes, slightly tanned skin, and dark hair. you admitted to yourself that he was handsome, but he was a pirate, nonetheless. not a warlord of the sea, not an emperor, just a supernova. he was below you. but something about him made you want to know more about him. but you resisted your urges and turned to look away from him.

“your majesty!” yelled saxan. he came up next to you which caught you off guard. you looked at him instead and allowed him to continue speaking.

“all slaves from the auction house have been freed,” he said. “no more warriors are left in there. it is empty—“

“good,” you cut him off and drago quickly turned around to burn it down. and once it was of no more, he ran past the supernovas and took off once again. you looked behind you to see the area one more time. all that was left was the fire. you looked away and continued to fly off into the horizon. there were more slaves to free. you had arrived later than you hoped, so, of course, a few were sold and were now walking with whoever. you needed to find them. you looked around to see anybody, but the streets were empty. there was nobody here. why wasn’t there anybody? you furrowed your eyebrows in distress. it was quiet too, too quiet.

then you heard it.

the sound of something whipping through the air and a bright light. drago cried out in pain as he suddenly started to fall from the sky. you groaned as you tried to keep a hold of him. and as you fell from the sky, you saw a pacifista come from the shadows. your eyes only widened in fear as it kept its hand extended to your child. drago was smart enough though, and amid his pain, he flew to a safer place and landed. you jumped off of him and ran to his side. whatever the pacifista did it didn’t harm him badly. all he needed was time to rest, and he was in too much pain to fly. your poor baby.

tears welled in your eyes as you rubbed your dragon's side, trying to comfort him and calm him down. the sound of his cries pained your ears but you had to stop yourself from crying. he needed your support.

“rest, my child,” you whispered in aegrean. “we will heal you when you can fly again.” but he only cried in pain even more.

that’s when you heard the stomping. you turned around to face the pacifista right as it stopped a few meters in front of you. your breathing became heavier and faster as it raised its hand. but drago whipped his head around and opened its mouth to breathe fire. right before he could though, a blue sphere surrounded you, the pacifista, and drago. next thing you knew the pacifista was cut in two, and it fell over dead. drago started to snarl at whoever was behind the goddamn cyborg.

law walked around it, revealing himself to you. you locked eyes again and he started walking up to you. you straightened your back and walked a couple of feet in front of your dragon. “hold it!” you yelled in the common tongue.

law stopped and stood right when you yelled. you looked him up and down, still breathing heavily from the encounter. “another step and he will turn you to ash,” you said. you turned around to calm drago down, and once he laid his head back down on the ground, you turned back to face the pirate captain.

“i must thank you for saving us,” you said. law walked right up to you and stood only a few inches away at this point. he was tall and had a good build.

“you got the marines off my ass and my crew’s,” he said. “i don’t want to be indebted to somebody, let alone you.”

you looked him up and down, then back into his eyes. “your debt is repaid then, so i don’t know why you’re still standing here.”

“your… dragon,” he pointed his sword at him. you narrowed your eyes at him. “i can help him.”

“you only want to help him so i can be indebted to you this time,” you said, stepping closer to him.

“maybe, maybe not. but a mother’s child is in pain…”

“how am i supposed to trust you?“

“you’re not.”

law moved past you and dropped his sword on the ground. he walked up to the wound with you following behind him. hesitantly, he placed both of his hands by the wound before turning his head to look at you. he saw the worry on your face.

“this won’t hurt him, right?” you asked, your voice almost breaking. law shook his head “no” and you then let him take over. you didn’t know how but assumed it was his devil fruit power, but in seconds drago’s wound started to heal. once law stepped away from him you let out a deep breath.

“thank you,” you said.

“i’m intrigued by dragons,” he said, going to grab his sword. “do not think of this as a debt to be repaid. i’ve always wanted to touch a dragon.”

you smiled, but once he turned around to look at you, you dropped it. you didn’t say anything else as you climbed back onto drago and took off. he screeched, and in return so did his siblings. you left the archipelago with the kindness of law in mind. you wouldn’t forget it.

—

two years have gone by since that ordeal. you forgot about it in all honesty, but sometimes when you are with drago your eyes go over to the small scar that was left behind by that pacifista. you think of the kindness once more and never again. until one day when your hand, eddard, came up to you to tell you that trafalgar law has docked at the port and wanted to meet with you. he was a warlord now and was more feared. what he wanted to speak about, you would never guess. you then think back to drago and wonder if his words were a lie.

you sat on your throne, patiently waiting for him. your eyes darted around the room in boredom. dragon carvings on the wall, dragon statues, large candle holders down the sides of the room, and small steps up to your throne in front of you. the skylight allowed the sun to shine through, but it never reached your feet. eira stood next to you but down the steps some, and so did eddard. a few of your soldiers and warriors were also in the room. you were very much protected.

when the doors to the throne room opened, trafalgar came walking in. by the looks of it, he seemed stronger. you wondered if his personality had changed or not. he stopped, and behind him followed a polar bear with an orange boiler suit. you almost raised an eyebrow but stopped yourself.

“you stand in the presence of queen y/n l/n. conqueror of the new world. queen of the new world. protector of the new world. the first dragon queen…” said eira

he only nodded his head and turned to look at the polar bear. he didn’t say anything. eira looked back at you with concern in her eyes. you gave her a look that she only understood, and decided to introduce him to you since he was uninterested in doing it himself. “this is trafalgar law. captain of the heart pirates. warlord of the sea. his bounty is at four-hundred forty million berries.”

“we’ve met before,” you said with a smile. “i hope the seas weren’t too rough.” you cupped your hands over your lap.

“the seas are never rough when you’re traveling by submarine,” he said. you only nodded.

“then what brings you to my kingdom?”

“an alliance.”

“alliance?” you questioned, raising a brow. “whatever for?”

“dressrosa is one of your kingdoms, is it not? doflamingo took control of it when your brother was still king. we both have a mutual hatred for the man and i think it would be best if we were to be allies in taking him down.”

eddard walked up the steps to get to you. you lingered your gaze from law and then to your hand right when he reached you. he gave his back to the pirate and pursed his lips at you. “your majesty, trafalgar has a long history with doflamingo. it would be best to let him take doflamingo down on his own. a reminder that kaidou—“

you cut him off. “i’m no fool, pirate,” you said, raising your voice. “there is more to this than what meets the eye. what is it that you truly want?”

law smirked. “i could never lie to a queen,” he said, taking a few steps toward you. your warriors moved forward though, causing him to stop. you raised your hand. “it’s alright,” you said in aegrean. they moved back and law walked up the first few steps but didn’t dare come closer to you.

“my main goal is to defeat kaidou,” he said.

you scoffed. “then you may leave this kingdom and my seas. when the time comes, i will fight doflamingo with my army and dragons. i will take back control over my kingdom by myself. but if you wish to get that out of the way for me on your own, then go ahead.”

“you cannot fight doflamingo on your own. you need my help.”

“i do not need the help of a pirate. you’re the one who needs my help,” you glared at him. “i will not betray an emperor of the sea. i don’t want any involvement in this plan.”

“kaidou is no ally of yours,” said law angrily. “an emperor of the sea, yes. but when the time comes, he will not hesitate to betray you and kill you. his only allies are pirates that would love to help him rebel against you.”

“and why do you think so?” you snapped.

“isn’t it obvious? you sit on the throne and control most of the new world. you have three dragons and two of the most powerful armies at your side. you are one of the most powerful people in the new world, and you ask why kaidou wouldn’t take the opportunity to kill you?” he asked. “once you are dead, he will only gain more power by eliminating a threat. he will take your throne.”

eddard moved away from you as you slowly got up from the throne. you were angry. you walked down to him but stayed two or three steps away from him. you wanted that leverage. you wanted to show him that there would never be a time when you would be defeated. you wanted your stance to intimidate him, but it only left you cowering under his piercing eyes.

“when the time comes, you will know when i have made a decision,” you said. he was going to speak up but you continued speaking. “because i will either burn you or burn my ally.”

you took one more step down to get at a leveled height with him. “but if you are wrong, trafalgar, you will be my enemy until you are no longer breathing.”

you eyed him and then turned around to sit back down on your throne. law looked at the window behind you, the gigantic triangular-shaped window, and saw as one of your dragons flew by. he will have you as an ally. and with one more look at you and your people, law turned around and beckoned for his crew mate to follow him out of the throne room, leaving you all alone to think about what he said.

you leaned toward where eddard was standing and called for him. he bent down next to you and leaned his ear close to your mouth. “keep an eye on him. i want updates on whatever he is doing. let me know immediately if what he says is true.”

eddard only nodded before leaving the throne room. and you continued sitting there playing with your old wedding band that now sat on your right ring finger. what would your husband have done? and what would your brother have done?

ch. 2 !

[olinblogin]

VALENTINES DAY HEADCANONS

LEGO MONKIE KID

MK (Qi Xiation)

Probably not the most extravagant date ever, he’ll but you chocolates, maybe a flower/bouquet if he has enough money. You two will likely have a little date in his room, watching Monkey King movies and eating junk food, also makes you little drawings or paper flowers.

Mei Dragon

Probs a nice ride around all these pretty places on her bike, good food, likely won’t go to her house though. She’s gonna buy you pretty things with her money, you two likely end up at the arcade.

Pigsy (platonic)

Teaching you how to make noodle dishes, he loves sharing his family recipes with people. Probably hit you over the head with a spoon.

Tang (platonic/romantic you decide)

He doesn’t do much, never really seen outside the noodle shop. He probably gets you a little rose and a card.

Sandy

Takes you to a cat cafe, rambles about the ingredients inside whatever tea he orders (he knows every single ingredient) and tells you about what breed cats are in the cafe.

Monkey King (Sun Wukong)

He took you on a cloud ride on his nimbus, wanted to be somewhere other than the Flower Fruit Mountain because he felt it would be too crowded with the other monkeys. Said “watch this” when he wanted to do a swan dive off his nimbus to impress you and face planted from 300ft in the air into the ground because he thought he’d land in the water.

Macaque

Simple little date in his Dojo, does little shadow-play’s for you and teaches you how to make shadow animals with your hands. You two ended up play fighting because he kept (playfully) insulting your shadow animal skills. Stargazing on the roof of his dojo.

Lady Bone Demon

She doesn’t celebrate it

The Mayor

Took you all around the city, he’s so hyperactive and likely stole things for you.

Demon Bull King/Princess Iron Fan (platonic)

Tried making you food and ended up burning it. Princess Iron Fan ended up having to remake the food for you after reprimanding her husband for nearly destroying the kitchen.

Redson

Very indecisive, overthinks things a lot. You two simply just made some noodles and had a little at home date instead of anything too extravagant.

Yin & Jin

One said a cafe date one said a stargazing date. These two were bickering like no tomorrow until you cut in and they settled on doing both, going to a cafe and stargazing.

Peng

He doesn’t give you a valentines.

YellowTusk (platonic)

Probably just spending quality time with you, nothing too big.

Azure Lion

Oh my god the gifts- probably would bombard you with so many chocolates. He spent so much time saying how much he appreciated you that you didn’t end up going on a date at all.

Spider Queen

Made the rest go off and get you gifts because she forgot it was Valentine’s Day, she praised You endlessly.

Syntax

He spammed your messages with little Valentine’s Day messages he’d find, you ended up getting over 200 messages that were valentines related.

Hunstman

You’d have to do the planning, he’s too stubborn and maybe a bit nervous to actually plan a date with you.

Strong Spider (Or Goliath)

Took you out to a little clearing in the forest for a picnic, nearly sobbed when you put a little flower in his hair.

Chang’e

She baked you a pretty heart cake and little heart cupcakes, all red velvet because she thinks it’s the most romantic flavor to make.

Nezha (platonic!!!)

He did not want to celebrate. After giving him some chocolates you managed to get him to say a begrudged “happy Valentine’s Day”