#r watches the blood of youth

[eohachu]

3 years of watching cdramas have led up to this very moment in which I correctly interpreted a poem about some guy's erectile dysfunction

[tytangfei]

a;sdklfdja i just realized that liu xueyi haven't had many main roles in dramas??? which is wild to me. he's been hot and psycho since love and redemption (2020), and he needs to be typecasted immediately for all roles like this, please and thanks

[romanoffsbish]

Seed of Romanoff

Dark!Natasha Romanoff x Innocent!FReader

Request | A redhead spotted you in a cafe, and nothing was gonna stand in her way of getting to you | WC: 3,376

Warnings: Non-Con (Trafficking — By parent) | Abusive Mom | Drugs | Toxic Natasha |

Smut: Non-Con | Daddy (N) | Little Dove (R) | Restraints | Unprotected Sex (P in V - Natasha has a penis) | Degrading | Forced Breeding | Belly-Bulge |

You were hesitant, hands sweating, and teeth grinding levels of nerves raced throughout your entire body as you finally entered your house with Wanda, your new classmate turned friend. The girl had made it clear that she liked you, and the truth was you thought you might like her too, but you needed others approval first.

Your mom was really easygoing, most would say neglectful, but you figured that would probably work in your favor. It was Natasha, her youthful wife's approval that you craved, and for some reason, you never got.

——

"Hey mom," you greeted her with a hopeful smile, "I have someone I want you to meet." This caught Natasha's attention immediately, she sprung up from the couch and met the lot of you in the kitchen. You were so engrossed in letting Wanda introduce herself to them to notice the way your mom winced at your step mothers touch, her grip vice-like on her hips.

"It's lovely to meet you Wendy," Natasha replied, a cordial hand extended her way. The brunette chuckled awkwardly, shaking her hand out of respect, but you could see the way her demeanor had changed. It made you sad to see Nat likely didn't approve, because you were honestly running out of options at this point.

"Wanda," you politely corrected your stepmom, then went on in the same breath, "and I will be going up to my room now. We have an exam to study for this Friday." The way you rushed off, with her hand in yours, in a fit of giggles made the redheads blood boil.

"It's time," was all she offered your mother, the spineless woman nodded then set off to her bedroom while Natasha watched you walk into your own with the live footage now pulled up on her phone.

You were just too cute for words honestly, the way you plopped onto your bed with a silly smile made her swoon. Then she felt her mood fall when Wanda sat next to you, the strawberry brunette's hand brazenly laid on your bare thigh, and the jealousy was back as if it'd never truly left. Because it didn't, anytime someone so much as looked at what was hers she fumed.

You didn't know, but you were hers, she ensured that ages ago when she met your mom in a nightclub and tricked her into believing she was interested in her.

Natasha was well off, and your mother poor. It was easy for her to convince your mom to give her you. Your father left her when you were just a tike, and she resented you for taking her youth. As if you'd asked to be born, but regardless of the circumstances you were dealt, you were just so good. The kindest creature Natasha had ever seen, an obvious innocence that stemmed from neglect radiated from you, it was what attracted the redhead to you in the first place. When she saw you smile for the first time she was hooked.

Natasha, who was much closer to your age than your mother's, caught sight of you on campus one day. You smiled warmly at the barista, and she felt a darkness envelope her heart since it wasn't directed at her. She took a photo of you, but remained out of your eye line as she ran your face through an algorithm. Confirming to her that you were a bit younger, and so damn cute, the naivety radiated off of your instagram account.

All she knew after you left the coffee shop with a hum was that she had to have you. It was her final year of her doctorate while it appeared to only be the third of your bachelors. She knew better than to just approach you alone, you were far too delicate for her gruff, relentless demeanor. So she set out to learn all about you, and the life that led you to where you were now.

Then one day, when your mom was desperate for a fix, Natasha struck a hell of a deal. It was illegal in every single sense, but your mom took it without even a second thought to your safety or happiness. An endless supply of drugs and a home in Miami in exchange for you, her only child. The concept was sinister, and sadly fit her well. It wasn't even her first time considering it.

Fortunately, you got Natasha instead of the sleaze that propositioned her months prior. In this case, you were at least going to experience love, even in a twisted way.

Everything was finally falling into place for Natasha, your mom didn't seem to want to call it off, not that she really cared if she had. Now she could only work out if she handled Wanda first. No way was she about to let that slut have her way with you, your virginity was the redheads. She quite literally paid for that and your child bearing abilities, your genetic predisposition to fertility a cherry on top of the perverse sundae.

Your mother had vacated her womb enough times to confirm to Natasha that was the case. Surprisingly though, the redhead would've been fine if you were only able to carry one. As much as she wanted to breed you endlessly, until your body forgot how to be barren, she also was fine with one heir and the trophy wife.

First though, before she could embark on her fantasy, came the removal of the obstacle. Wanda, the younger redhead, who shared characteristics with the elder that made her want to laugh. Even in your conquest for love elsewhere did you find someone who resembled her. Whether it be her green eyes or red hair, there hadn't been a time where you brought someone unlike her home. It was a perfect reminder of your looming fate.

"Hey! Open this door right now!" Natasha shouted as the side of her fist pummeled into your locked door, "No closed doors in my house!" The action shook the walls surrounding you and startled you out of the horny girls grasp. Wanda glared at the shaking door and you just sat there with a delicate frown. Natasha had never so much as shouted at you before, so the sound actually left you feeling like a wounded puppy.

Your precious Natty, the light in the darkness that was your previous life with your mom was someone you didn't recognize at all today. It hurt your heart, because she'd never had an issue with you closing the door when Peter was over before. Though deep down you knew Wanda was harmless, your body began to regard her as a threat since your stepmom, who you adored, had clearly despised her. The cycle continued on.

"You should probably go," you sadly spoke up, "I-I really do need to focus on my study guide."

Wanda frowned, but with one look into your eyes she realized your daunting predicament. It was clear you were the mouse that'd collect the cheese, and Natasha was setting her trap. If she thought she could help she would, but deep in your gaze she could see you contently fell prey. The woman reluctantly nodded, standing to collect her bag just as she heard an ominous sound of metal scraping just outside the door. You stood up, and opened the door first, walking out to meet the fuming woman. Your soft hand settled onto her arm, and she lowered the hopefully empty gun.

"Are you okay detka?" You kindly smiled up at her over the concern, appreciating it and failing to see the way that her lips were fighting to keep from amusedly lifting. "Did she take advantage of you my little dove?"

"No," you sighed, smile falling ever so slightly, "We were just talking, she is leaving though." Wanda put truth to your words as she passed by in a rush.

"I'm sorry," Natasha solemnly said after a moment of awkward silence (she wasn't), "I just need you to be more careful sweetheart." Her lips gently pressed to your temple, and you melted into her, no discomfort present even as her pistol pressed into your back. "You are too pure, you'll never know who has ill intentions."

Oh how right she was... You'd never know.

With your front flush to hers she felt her cock twitch with anticipation for the upcoming day that she finally got to claim you, in totality. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough. "I love you so much, my precious girl."

——

The following day you woke up to a knock, it was a simple two beats, so you lazily got up and once presentable headed downstairs to eat. However, instead of a table of delicious food you found your mom stood by the door with a suit case by her side.

"Mom?" The middle aged woman smiled, but it was weak as she opened her arms for a hug (a goodbye). It held an apology you didn't see; it was better that way.

"Hey kiddo, I'm headed off for a bit," she pinched your side and smiled, but her eyes looked sad as you met them. "Why? For how long?" She sighed, "A month."

"Natty too?" You cringed, you didn't mean for it to sound so obvious that you cared more about her, but it was always obvious. Charlotte never had the time of day for you, but Nat always did. Natasha found it hard not to laugh at your mom, whose face looked sad.

Natasha found the moment perfect, the way you were about to be all hers was beyond exhilarating. It was also a shameless way to check you out and disgust your vile mother. How dare she sell you... Like you were filthy trash... Fortunately you were left to Natasha, she'd never let you go, you were safest in her arms.

"Nope detka," Natasha sang from behind you, the sound of jingling keys followed her. "We're gonna take your mom to the airport, and then we'll get breakfast."

No one offered you more, not where your mom was going, nor the unsavory reasoning, and truthfully you didn't care to ask. Alone time with Nat was your favorite, every other time your mom left you alone with her you had the time of your life. This time would prove different though, you felt it when she kissed your lips as she entered the car after eating at the diner.

"Na-Natasha," you stuttered out her name, she found it amusing the way you were about to resist her advances even though your eyes had yet to flutter back open. "Don't worry detka, your mom is gone for good now, so we can finally be together. No more other people..."

"No, s-she said a month," you whimpered, both from the proposed betrayal and her hand on your thigh. "Your mother is a liar Y/N, you'll see that I'm not..."

The car ride home was quiet, except for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears as her hand settled on your thigh, her grip possessive, and confusing. It was just as quiet when she guided you back inside the house, but it didn't remain as such. Natasha pushed you up against the door, with a gentle force to show you she meant what she said before, and you believed it when her lips and hands began to roughly roam.

"You're married," you tried to deter her, but she only shrugged and continued to kiss down your jawline. "That wasn't real, I only married her to have you."

"What?" Natasha pulled back, lips upturned as she saw the fear in your eyes and hot spurts of white coated the tip of her cock and spread all over her boxers. It was apparent to her that you were going to resist some, so she threw you over her shoulder and tossed you onto the bed that she shared with your mother. "Don't worry dove, we never slept together, daddy's all yours."

You cringed outwardly, but much to your shock, you felt as your heart fluttered at the twisted truth, and your virgin cunt dampened with her chosen title.

"I'm doing this for your own good," she informed you as she tied your hands to the posts of her bed. "It would be a shame if you tried to fight destiny."

"Natty," you whimpered, feelings disgusted as your core pulsed in need. “I-I.” For a brief moment she softened. "This is wrong, y-you're my step mom."

"I'm your daddy actually," she chuckled darkly, "I'm here to turn you into a mommy, so get comfortable."

No words left you as you tried to understand your fate. It wasn't until you felt the chilled tip of a blade on your bare skin that you realized you were now naked. "My mom won't be happy, you are not supposed to do this."

Natasha ran her blade down the side of your neck, a whimper left you as you felt the blood trickle down your skin and into the sheets. "Oh, you are just as naive as your mom is a filthy deviant; she gave you to me."

"N-no," you cried, you didn't want to believe her, but it wasn't like you didn't know your mom was a disaster.

"Your mother wasn't worth a sack of shit," she gritted against the skin of your neck as her hands roughly caressed your concealed womb. "But you, I just know that you'll be everything our kids will ever need."

"Kids?" You gulped, her words were clear moments ago, but yet you seemed confused until now, and the redhead chuckled, "Mhm, gonna fill you up until you are begging for more Y/N, my personal cum dump.”

Natasha smirked as your walls clenched around nothing in direct contradiction with your pleading words and persistent attempts to shove her away as your lower body pitifully tried to thrust her off. You were torn between the pleasure you'd craved for years, and the strangely alluring promise of becoming her pretty little housewife to push hard enough. "I'm not sure I want to be a mom Natty," you finally whimpered loud enough and she just laughed in your face as she pushed her cock inside of you without preparation.

The sight of your eyes crossing and mouth opening had her prematurely ejaculating, truly sealing your fate.

"Don't worry my little dove," she coo'd while stilling her hips, reluctantly allowing your untouched body a chance to get used to her twitching intrusion. "You'll be nothing like her, I promise, you'll be the perfect mom."

"I don't want to be," you cried, hands pulling at the restraints, but your words of protest were negated as you moaned like a filthy whore with a simple jolt of her hips. “Daddy isn’t in the business of caring detka.” You whimpered, heart shattering at the coldness you were not expecting from the woman you’d adored, but in the same breath you were incredibly turned on by it all.

This idea of being her filthy whore; just a hole to fuck and a womb to fill, was exciting you greatly. “That’s right detka, let daddy do all the thinking for you.” Her speed picked up in response. Your faux display of disinterest only spurring her on to show you just how much you wanted this too. It was a dual need.

With every thrust you could feel her tip twitch, and a spurt of her essence would follow. It alarmed you the more real it became that she was genuine about breeding you. Desire as you might to be hers, you were still in the process of your final year in undergrad, and had every intention to start your masters child free.

“Natasha please,” you cried, legs trying to squeeze shut, and your cunt was slick enough that it nearly pushed her back out but she thrusted against you. Her hips forced yours back onto the bed, and the way in which her tip slammed into your cervix made your mind go blank, and pussy flutter uncontrollably.

"Nice try slut!" Her fingers caressed the bump protruding from your abdomen in awe, the outline of the tip of her cock clear as day. "Your walls are working overtime to suck me dry, don't you feel it detka?" She grinned wickedly as her hand pressed firmly into your abdomen. "The urge to be full of me? My perfect little whore to breed. You'll never be hollow again."

You sobbed, it was gut wrenching, but not to Natasha. This was just par for the course, you needed a minute to see that this was always how life was meant to be. Natasha was your soulmate, you didn’t need anyone else, and she knew with time you’d be okay with that.

“Shh, stress isn’t good for baby making detka,” she scolded you as she pulled her cock out and kissed your lips with a tenderness, giving you emotional whiplash. Natasha slid a plug inside of you, it was efficient in keeping her cum inside, but purposefully short enough that you couldn’t derive pleasure by humping it. Your fate was indeed sealed; Natasha was a lot of (terrible) things, but she was never a liar. Her seed painted your fertile insides white, and every day since she's done the same. Sex with you had become a fast addiction, it took you only a minute to accept the reality. You sorta loved it, your stretched hole ached for her cock the entire time she would be away, you'd become insatiable too.

She wondered if it was the pre-natals she'd been slipping you every morning in your special smoothies that increased your need, but she liked to believe it was just your natural, insatiable attraction to her. Either way, she indulged the both of your carnal desires.

Before work she'd wake you up with her cock between your tits, you no longer wore clothes to bed because you never woke up in them anyways. After giving her head just like she wanted, with your once virgin mouth, she'd allow you to get her to the edge, but she'd always make sure to save her release for your womb.

Never one to waste an opportunity to fill you.

On the weekends she'd bend you over the coffee table, fucking you raw from the back while she caught up on her favorite shows. It was a mindless means to ensure you were carrying her kin, but at night she'd give it to you with more passion than before. There was a new toy at her disposal every single time, you wondered if the tellers at Kiss-N-Tell knew her by name now.

Natasha was a multi-millionaire, no cost was too much if it meant she could see you writhing with a pleasure only she could offer you. The redhead succeeded in ruining you for anyone else, and there was never much hope for another anyway. Not only were you stupidly in love with the woman, but you knew your only hope at freedom was her wife—your mom, who was gone.

That doomed hope of yours fizzled out fast. The month had come and gone, but in the end the only mother present within the four walls of your house was you as you held the test between your shaky hands. Two red lines, prominent in nature, flashed right up at you.

Natasha, the cause, was at work while you were crying in the bathroom. Then you heard the alarm on your phone. The oven was ready... You set two prepped buns on the pan, and zoned out as the sliders warmed. How hilarious and ironic as the two lines weren't the only pair at play here... Soon enough you'd understand.

Your heart soon cracked as Natasha held your son, Xavier, while your daughter, Inez, laid on your bare chest after a successful feeding. It was almost domestic, especially when Natasha kissed your lips with an unfamiliar tenderness.

"I can't wait for our family to keep growing," she grinned against your lips, feeling the way they shook as you gulped down your fear.

What a silly girl you were to hope for love...

[sapphicmsmarvel]

the beginning of your life with Azriel

Tw: bad mental health mentioned. Mentioned r*pe and murder of said r*pist 

buckle in friends, we got a long one ahead of us. (long for me to write okay)

tropes: friends to lovers, taking care of future S/O, fluff to angst then back to fluff

When Azriel had met you, he had no idea just how important you would become to him. 

You were Feyre’s beautiful friend from the mortal world, a friend that was taken with her sisters. A friend that fought against Hybern every step of the way. A friend that drew blood from the High Lord of the Spring because he hurt Feyre and you knew the truth. You had smacked the shit out of Tamlin. 

So when your High Lady and High Lord asked you to be the Night Court’s Justice, you readily agreed. 

It was…nice to get that anger out on people that had harmed your loved ones. 

So you began training, you originally were training with just Cassian and Azriel, then when Nesta needed some outlet, you extended the offer to her. 

Well, it wasn’t really an offer. 

She was bitter towards you for it for the longest time. But she eventually, apologized to both you and Feyre for her bitter words, but you both obviously forgave her. 

You knew how bad shit had gotten when you were first turned. Bitter, angry, resentful. But instead you went to different coping mechanisms. You poured everything into helping others, to the point where you were neglecting yourself. Rhysand had pulled you out of it, but that’s a story for another day. 

(read about that here) 

Azriel saw the shift in you then, the day you killed your rapist and brought peace to the survivors. He watched as the pathetic man pleaded for forgiveness. 

Since then, as stated earlier, you began training so you’d be able to fight. When you became the night courts justice, you and him developed a partnership. You were work partners. You two only trusted each other completely unconditionally. It was a hard relationship to build. But after a year of countless missions where every single one was successful, it became pretty easy. 

Late nights eating in a dingy inn room. If you stayed in an inn room that had only one bed, he’d say he was going to take the floor but you eventually persuaded him to just climb into bed with you. 

You two never split up unless it was vital to the mission. You two trusted each other to do things on your own, but sometimes two was better than one. 

You learned the most intimate things about each other. How he doesn’t like when beds are too soft because it feels weird (from ya know sleeping on a dingy floor his whole youth). You can’t sleep unless you bathe every single day. You snore and talk in your sleep while he sleeps perfectly still like he’s laying in a casket. 

When you go on separate missions, he can’t sleep because he doesn’t know if you’re safe or not. You can’t sleep because you miss the brooding bat. 

You helped train the valkyries, hell, you were even taken to the blood rite. 

He had never been so nervous in his life during that time. You were his partner and he couldn’t be there to help you. Frankly, he’d call you his best friend. Rhysand and Cassian knew him extremely well, but you were something else to him entirely. 

The second he saw the four of you walk out, he was so relieved he nearly fell to the ground and thanked the mother. 

You guys had been close before the Rite, and now you were even closer. 

A lot of times, you tried to face your nightmares alone. However sometimes it was difficult so you’d walk to his room to sleep there. His body and shadows were so attuned to your movements that he never jumped when you crawled into the bed. He knew the second you opened the door that it was you. 

He can’t explain it, it was just a sixth sense. Like, you guys would be out and about and he would just know you were about to do some stupid shit with Cassian. 

He started realizing what he truly felt for you after the Blood Rite. How his heart felt lighter when you were in his sight. How he always chose to sit next to you, or be by you.

Cassian finally had enough, so did Feyre apparently because the both of them ambushed him one night, “so when are you finally asking Y/N out?” Cassian demanded.

Azriel looked like he got caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. “What?” 

“Feyre and I-”

“No, you dragged me here.” Feyre corrected her beloved brother in law. 

“Because you’re her best friend!” 

“Which means I shouldn’t be hearing this because I am legally obligated-”

“Legally?” Azriel questioned. “By Girl Law-“ She cut a look at Azriel who held his hands up in an “I surrender” position. She pointed at him. “This is shit I have to tell her if I hear it. So la la la la.” She plugged her ears and walked away.

Cassian shook his head at her retreating figure. “Crazy woman.” He looked back at his brother and smacked him on the chest. “You need to make a move!”

“What.” Az simply stated. 

“You. Need. To. Make. A. Move!” After each word, Cassian hit Azriel in the chest. 

Azriel swung at him to get him to stop. “Ack!” 

“She’s head over heels for you, idiot!” 

Azriel hesitated. “I don't think so.” 

“Dude, she literally smiles the biggest when she sees you come in the room. She always stays by your side, she constantly shares her food with you.” Cassian explained.

“She does that with everyone.”

“No! No she does not! I tried to take a roll from her yesterday and her fork almost impaled my hand.”

“Bread and butter is one of her favorite things. You’re an idiot for that.” Azriel deadpanned.

“See! Another thing, you two know each other as intimately as lovers.”

Eventually, he got Cassian to stop, but that night he just could not stop thinking about you. Your smile lights him up from the inside. Especially your genuine smile. The one where your gums are showing, your teeth, your nose scrunches and your eyes squint. 

He loves your laugh, it is the song his shadows dance to. You have variations that he memorizes as if they’re the chords to his favorite music. 

He groaned into his pillow, his shadows silently laughing at him as they saw their master lovelorn. 

Although, even they knew you had feelings for the shadow singer. Their master, while one of the deadliest in Prythian, was a moron. 

The feelings for each other didn’t get exposed until later. Much later. 

You two were on a deadly mission, one that even Rhys was worried to send you on. You had completed the task, but the cost? 

Your health. 

One of the arrows was poisoned. You couldn’t move a single muscle below your neck. You were tired. You just wanted a warm bath and snuggles with Azriel.

“Y/N, please stay awake.” Azriel clutched your cheeks. “The healer is on her way. She’s running to you, baby. Please stay awake.” 

You felt water drop onto your face, you looked up at the sky wondering when it had begun to rain. 

It hadn’t. Your friend, your partner, was crying. 

“I love the stars.” You whispered. “My favorite one is right in front of me.”

“Yeah? Which constellation is that?” His voice was gravelly. He sniffed.  He looked up then back at you, as if the idea of letting you out of his sight would seal your fate.

“You. You are my constellation. You are my galaxy.” You whispered. “If I'm going to die, I want you to know that.” 

“You’re not going to die.” 

“We don’t know that.” You said. “I wish I could move my hand, so I could touch you.” 

“I’m right here.” His hands were on your face. 

“No, I want to hold your hand.” You whimpered. 

He looked taken aback but abided by his dying love's wish. He held your hand tightly. 

“If I am your galaxy, you are my moon.” He put your foreheads together. All you could see was the hazel of his eyes. “You ground me. You keep me in rhythm. You are my constant companion. And I vow, you will survive this and we will be together, okay? You are my strength, my salvation and you will live.”

Your eyes slipped closed right as the healer reached you. 

——————-

When you awoke, you felt a presence next to you. You looked to the side through your groggy eyes and saw Azriel laying next to you. His hand was still intertwined with yours.  His shadows dancing around your bodies. They got visibly excited when you awoke. 

One shot towards your face as if to cradle it and your hand that wasn’t holding Azriels, shot up in reflex. It twirled around your fingertips. 

You could move again. 

Azriel’s eyes shot open, they were incredibly bloodshot. “Oh love.” He said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by all of Feyre’s abilities at once.” You groaned. “Throw Rhys in there too. And you and Cassian.” You sighed. “Frankly, it feels like everybody hit me with their full powers.”

“The Healer, Tatiana, said you’d feel that way.” He stroked your hand. “Completely normal for the dose of poison you received. She even threw in five bottles of the antidote and instructions for us to give to Madja, so our home healer has information.”

You sighed. “Anything for this pain?”

“No. Nothing will help. You just have to ride it out.” He looked depressed giving you that news.

But you couldn't hide how you felt. How much pain you were in. You were safe enough with Az to crumble your walls.

And that’s when your tears started. “It hurts so bad.” You whimpered. 

“I know.” He brushed them away. “Rhysand is sending a carriage to transport you back home. I was told not to risk winnowing or flying. It’ll be here tomorrow morning, I assumed that you’d want to go home as soon as possible.”

“What if I didn’t wake up now?”

“We still would’ve transported you. I want to keep you comfortable. Tatiana says there is little risk of your sutures opening from where you were shot. Plus, she says the effects of poison won’t flare up after 12 hours and we hit that about five hours ago. So you’re pretty much on track to recovery. We’re just taking a carriage to minimize the risk of you bleeding out or vomiting all over a city. Cause guess what? that’s a symptom too.”

“Fucking shit.” You said leaning against the pillow. “Where are we?”

“An Inn, Esther the inn owner found us in the woods and ran back to get a town healer. She won’t let me pay at all.” He seemed kind of pouty about that. “But I’m gonna try again tomorrow.”

He brushed your hair back. “Are you hungry?”

“Eh.” Was all you said, and then. “Bread and butter sounds nice right now.” 

He snorted and you cried indignantly. “Hey I am ill-“

“Oh relax. I’ve already prepared for this.” He squeezed your hand and got up. 

When he let go of your hand and you’d be damned if you showed how sad you were about that. 

You were pouting. 

He used a knife to slice open some rolls and put them by the lit fire. “I know you like warm bread and cold butter but you’ll have to settle for room temperature butter.” 

He brought you over a plate and glass of water. The bread was even spread with an unholy amount of butter. Just the way you like it. 

He got you set up against the headboard. You downed the glass of water and he quickly gave you a refill. After your belly was full and you felt a bit better, you looked over at him. 

“So you wanna talk about what I said when I was….” You trailed off. 

“Did you mean it?” He whispered. 

“Yes!” You whispered enthusiastically back. “Az, since the very first day I met you I have had a crush on you.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes!” You cried, your head hitting the headboard. “Gods, Cassian and Feyre wouldn’t let me breathe about it. Same with Nesta.” 

“I didn’t know.” Azriel said. 

“I know.” You sighed. “I’m sorry if me saying that stuff on my deathbed pressured you into saying anything.” “It didn’t.” He took a deep breath. “I have been infatuated with you for far longer than I ever knew.” He clutched your hand again. “I found you beautiful as a mortal, endearing. But when you were turned, it amazed me that you somehow became ethereal. You were so angry that you smacked Tamlin with your nails. You made him bleed. When he snarled at you, I was ready to jump in. But Feyre beat me to it.” He smiled, a bit sadly. 

“When you went to the Rite, I knew you could do it. Yet, I felt fear that I haven’t felt in a long time. When I saw you, I almost lost it right then. Confessed everything.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don't think I can handle your rejection.” He whispered. 

“I will never reject you, Az.” You clutched your joined hands. “You are everything I've ever wanted. Ever needed. I would be honored if you’d accept me-“

“I already have.” He whispered looking at you. 

You put your hand against his cheek and pulled him to you. Your lips met and it was everything you’d ever wanted. All your fears and love were put into that kiss. 

You knew you both would be okay, as long as you had each other. 

And right as you thought that, the mating bond snapped. 

——————————

[hyacinthusmemorial]

TW: Mentions of SA

In my works, and other places, people have been asking me my opinion on Achilles attacking Troilus. I would just preface I’m not an expert on the Trojan War. I was sick the week we did the Iliad in high school and they made me perform as Odysseus when we read the Odyssey and i had no clue what was happening, but I am in the process of reading it now.

I think if you are studying these events from the perspective of the god Apollo, then Achilles kind of loses his Brad Pitt appeal that the movie Troy (which I have never seen) gives him. So if Achilles is your guy, stop reading. I’m thought dumping.

There is something wicked and powerful about Achilles k*lling and r*ping Apollo’s own son on his own altar in his own temple. Because that is the implication of the iconography and artwork.

Achilles drags Troilus by his hair to the altar of his father and the story doesn’t say if Achilles r*pes him, but it is implied. For one it talks about Achilles being overcome with lust for Troilus, who is the image of Apollo in human form. A beautiful golden haired, youth.

Not only is Troilus the son of Hecuba, he’s Apollo’s image. Sources say he is the most beautiful of the Trojans and Greeks. But he has been designated a fate where he represents the city of Troy. Hence the name Troilus. If he reaches adulthood, the city survives. If he dies as a youth, the city will fall.

Athena leads Achilles to Troilus to ensure his death and thus Troy’s fall. She does not account for HOW Achilles kills Troilus.

He sees Troilus on his horse, and he is overcome with lust. I think he probably offers Troilus some sort of deal, come sleep with me and I will let you and your sister go, but Troilus refuses and runs away and hides in his father’s temple. He is a little kid running to his father for help. But, Achilles breaks in, finds Troilus, and enraged kills him either on or near the altar of Apollo.

Troilus is the image of Apollo. He is his son. He is a prince of Troy. I think this is a tipping point for everything—the point of no return.

This seals Troy’s fate, but I think the reason for that are because of Troilus’s death. I think before this point there is the possibility there will be peace. I think Big Bro Hector would have sent Helen back, I think peace would have been sued for and Troy would stand. But Fate has to be accomplished. This is the point where Troy no longer gives a damn—their prince has been m*rdered and r*ped on the altar of their chief god. Priam is upset because he loved Troilus as his own son, and he calls Achilles a child-slaughterer after that. Hecuba is besides herself, and Hector wants to kill Achilles. I think this is the point where they decide that, yes, they are going to die fighting this war, but they have a GOOD REASON to. It’s not about Paris and Helen and Aphrodite and a dumb apple. It’s about a boy being murdered.

But Apollo, Apollo is now vengeance. He is acting as an arm of fate. He’s already peeved at Achilles, who had killed another son Tenes. (A different story about Achilles r*ping someone)

I said this to one of my commenters—an altar is a god’s dinner table. Apollo’s hands are tied by something—either Fate or Thetis or his Father, and he cannot stop Achilles who is savagely attacking his own son on his own table. He has to watch, has to sit there and taste his own son’s blood in his mouth, watch him brutally die.

Achilles’s fate is sealed. Apollo is going to kill Achilles. It’s just nine years later.

In the art, Thetis, Athena, Apollo and Hermes are in the background of this event. Athena and Thetis as support of Achilles, but it makes me curious what Hermes is doing there. Is he holding Apollo back? Has Thetis begged Zeus for Achilles life? Athena regretfully watching as she accomplishes her plan only to realize WHY it worked?

I think in this way you can fashion the Trojan War as a direct conflict between Apollo and Achilles. Everything else is going on around it, but at the heart of it, is Apollo and Achilles. Apollo waiting for his father and the fates to give him the go ahead because Achilles will die, and Apollo is going to take away everything from him in the process. Briseis, Patroclus, and then he’s going to take his life.

Achilles is the villain in Apollo’s story. He’s invulnerable, he’s circumventing fate, he r*pes anything under his power, he disrespects the gods. He is a lesson in what men do when no one can stop them, and the most powerful thing is that the Father wins. He finds and kills his son’s murderer even after all the roadblocks in his way.

Troy is a revenge story, and if I ever get to writing it in my series, it’s going to be written like a revenge story.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

OH GOD YOUR REQS R OPEN, i would rlly like to request something, could you write an one shot of price with a little daugther reader? just like, him coming home and spending some time with his little girl, she tells him about her school, he tells her some funny stories that happened while he was at work, he cooks her favorite meal, just a big fluff, i love this man more than anything and i just need some paternal love LMAO, feel totally free to deny! do everything in your time and remember to take good care of urself!

Memories of Youth

Pairing: Father!John Price x F!Daughter!Reader

Synopsis: It was hard being away from his little girl, but warm mornings spent in each other's company were blessings - even if they were far and few in between. It didn't matter the form.

Word Count: 4.5k (short and sweet)

Warnings: Angst (just a little cuz I can't help myself), a lotta fluff, banter, just good platonic/paternal relationship in general, etc.

A/N: Didn't specify if the reader was adopted or blood-related, so that's really up to you! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He got the call at the halfway point of crossing the English Channel, Northern France behind him and Southern England just on the horizon line as the sun began to spread its orange glow over the waves. Sitting high above the water in a slick black Heli, John Price’s hand snaps to his side pocket, fingers deftly peeling back the layers as the overwhelming sound of helicopter blades shakes the hull. 

The rest of Task Force 141 watch with varying interest, only Gaz taking notice of the sudden frown that mars his Captain’s face; the furrowed brow, and the spark of concern in his eyes. A call was unusual. The Sargeant tries not to intrude, but can’t help the way his body lightly shifts so he can have a better view.

John doesn't bother to look at the contact when he takes the device out, rapidly pressing the answer button and slotting the phone at his ear, tilting his head so his opposite rests at the junction of his shoulder. It only stops a fraction of the noise, even so, it would have to do for now. But with how his ears were already straining to find a sound over the line, he may not need to force out the jarring racket after all. 

Inside his chest, John’s heart is racing – confusion laces his mind. This was abnormal. 

I told her only to call if it was an emergency. What could she have gotten herself into now? I said to stay out of trouble…

“Where are you?!” The Brit has to shout down the line, his familiar deep accent loud and guttural. 

His mind flies through every possibility. An intruder had broken into the house, you had broken your arm falling down the stairs again, or a fire had broken out in the kitchen. Fuck…he was too far away to help if anything bad had happened. John’s jaw clenches, eyes looking out over the water as the bucket hat on his head flops in the wind. It was only a product of his job that made him think like that; years of intuition and thinking on the fly leading to his mind making up the worst scenarios. 

Especially when you called on a secure line when he told you it was only appropriate for life-and-death situations. Especially when it was his little girl.

I told ‘er about the Pistol in my office, yeah? The Captain asks himself with a steel-like resolve. And gave her Laswell’s number?

John’s fingers tighten over the phone when he hears your breath over the line, a shuffling of clothes, and a deep exhale.

“Sunshine!” He tries again, sitting up straighter as his pulse gets faster. Why isn’t she answering me? “Where are you right–”

“We don’t have anything for breakfast.” Your voice is heavy with sleep; fatigue drowning the syllables and holding them under the very waves that rage under John only separated by thin sheets of metal. 

The Brit stops. His body freezes, and as the tense minutes go by his panic falls away and leaves a thick stain of annoyance resting behind his eyelids. Of course. John brings two fingers to his nose bridge, digging into the skin until tiny crescent moons are left behind; he has to take a deep breath before answering, but his tone leaves nothing to the imagination.

“...Breakfast…?”

“Yeah, Old Man, you need me to spell it for you? B-R-E-A-K-F-A–”

“Enough!” John barks stiffly and has to hold back his anger as you laugh from the other side. Ever the jokester – did you not realize how serious this was? How fast your father’s heart was racing with adrenaline? 

Fuck, he had just about been ready to radio the cockpit and force the pilots to fly faster.

Across the way, Ghost locks eyes with the man, and with a tilt of his head and a loud call he asks, “That the Mutt?”

The Captain’s eyes slip back into a firm blank slate.

“Affirm.” John tilts the phone away from his mouth, ignoring your sarcastic comments to catch his sanity for a moment and respond to his Lieutenant.

Simon blinks as Johnny perks up at his side, looking in from the view in favor of the Captain with newfound interest. A bright smile forms over his scruffy cheeks

“She all good?” The skeletal man asks, and Gaz smirks lazily tapping his fingers over his knee, immediately noticing your shenanigans and the way the Cap was so worked up. 

But anyone would be when they had a daughter thousands of miles away.

John simply nods once with an exasperated expression to Ghost. MacTavish snorts out a laugh, knowing the context of the situation without having to think hard.

“Is that Uncle Simon?” You ask, and with a scratch at his beard, your father hums in confirmation, letting the sound of your voice put him more at ease. She’s just fine. “Tell him I want him to come over and play Mario Cart with Gaz, Johnny, and me again! He wiped the floor with ‘em last time!” 

There’s a clinking of pots and pans as you move throughout the house. 

“Sweetheart,” Your father grumbles, sighing through the call. His voice takes on the authoritative tone that works for both soldiers and teenagers – but it rarely works on you, despite that fact. Took after your dad too much, is what John would say. Never listened until it was absolutely necessary. “What did I tell you about callin’ this phone when I’m away from the house?”

He hears your scoff and raises a warning eyebrow, though you can’t see it. You know your dad enough to know he’s doing it despite being separated. It was pretty common.  

“Not to, unless it’s an emergency…But I’d say food is a big enough reason, y’know? Unless you want me to eat the leftover cake for breakfast – which I haven’t thrown out as a possibility yet, honestly.”

“You’re not eatin’ bloody cake for breakfast. You’ll get sick.” Gaz snickers, turning his face away to hide the amusement at the comment. 

It hadn’t been a surprise that the Captain’s daughter was such a familiar creature – they saw traits reflected every time the two were together. Everyone had expected her to take after her old man in nearly everything, and when she had they had bumped fists and prayed for the brown-bearded man. But it was funny nonetheless, considering they got along better than most fathers and daughters; practically reading each other's minds when everyone was playing poker. Johnny was still pretty ticked off about that – he’s a good deal deep into the sweets debt he owes you because Price helps you win. But where they really shined was with the shared deadpan attitudes, bottom-of-the-barrel sarcasm, and knowing how to command a room without even trying. Safe to assume that the rest of the team would do anything for you.

“Will not.” You grumble in retaliation, and John’s lips threaten to tilt into a grumpy smile when he hears you put the cake plate back into the counter. 

Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, the brown-haired man takes a glance outside, watching the waves go bright orange as they lap and writhe like great sea serpents. 

“How long have you been up, eh? The sun’s barely risen. Thought Sunday was when you always slept in?” 

There’s a pause in what John believed were fingers digging through a cupboard, and he narrows his eyes in confusion as the silence grows long. He frowns when you speak again, words so quiet he has to place a hand over his other ear to hear properly. Having half a mind to go and tell the pilots to hurry up and go faster so he can just talk to his little girl in person, he refrains, knowing that’s not how this works. But something was wrong – it had been laced in your previous words, as tiny and unnoticeable as it may have been. Only a father would notice it.

“You said you were gonna be home last night. I stayed up.” It takes a moment of halted breathing before John’s eyes widen, blues full of realization.

Oh. 

…Damn it. He lets out the tense breath of air from his lips, shifting in his seat as the gear around his body weighs him down. His gun digs into his chest. 

He hadn't seen you for over a week – leaving you in the care of a close and trusted neighbor, Mrs. Lilly, just as he always had when he needed to leave for work on short notice. But seeing as you were older now, it became apparent that, with your learned independence, staying at the house by yourself was alright as long as you checked in with the neighbor every morning and night. You had been waiting for him to come home. All alone. In the dark. 

Fucken’ hell, John thinks in a deep layer of guilt as wrinkles overtake his forehead, I did tell her I’d be back yesterday. I forgot to call and tell ‘er. Shit! He didn’t want to imagine the stress that had been put on your shoulders. God, what’ve I done?

Not checking in was something he had never missed before – he always told you when he was about to come back. What had gone wrong this time? How had something that important just slipped his mind? Sure the Op had been tedious, but he was trained to handle it. It was no excuse. 

“Sweetheart,” John starts and then pauses the soft and gentle endearment, knowing that an apology didn’t fit into what you were looking for. You didn’t want an ‘I’m sorry’ right now, you wanted your father. Flattening his lips into a line, he continues, wishing he was with you more than ever so he can press a kiss to your forehead. “...I should be back before 1200. How about when I get back I’ll cook you up somethin’ myself, yeah? Or we can go to that Cafe you like down on Newman Street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“...When do you have to go back?” You don’t answer his question, and yours makes his heart hurt. 

John clears his throat.

“None of that, now. We’ll talk more when I get back, Darling, alright?” You don’t respond, but he hears you sigh and quietly scoff under your breath. “Alright?” He tries again, head tilting forward and eyebrows rising as if you could see him. Maybe you could.

“Fine. But you better make me pancakes. I don’t care if it’ll be noon.” 

“Pancakes it is.” The Captain looks up in time to see Johnny mouthing words to him, and with a blank face and stiff lip, your father mutters with a grunt, “Johnny says ‘hello.’” 

Your shocked snort makes him feel better, but a layer of guilt still stays. You were awake all night waiting for him, and he never showed up. Did you sleep on the couch? Damnit, he hoped you didn’t…but in his rattling chest knew you had. He found you like that every time he came back from a long stay away. Huddled under blankets, no pillow under your head. Sometimes you steal one of his shirts and hold it like a stuffed bear to your chest, shoving your face into it. 

How could I forget to fucken’ call her?

Your voice takes him out of his growing self-resentment. 

“Tell him to watch his back – I’m getting better at Rainbow Road. Soon enough I’ll be able to beat him in a 1V1!” John can’t help the slow chuckle that bounces in his throat, mind, for the moment, at ease as long as you continue to speak to him.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along. But, eh,” The Brit makes sure he speaks slowly, letting you hear every syllable of his next words. “Promise me you’ll stay at the house until I get there. No goin’ out with friends, yeah? You know how I worry.” John ignores the teasing look from Gaz and peeks out again to see how close they were to the mainland with narrowed lids. “‘Specially when I’m not there.”

Getting back to the Base wasn’t the problem, it was the damn reports coming in that would wring his neck before he could get out the door. But he’d push it off for however long he could; call in favors from Laswell to get him more time with his little girl so he can fix his mistake. As a dad, the only thing that counted was seeing his daughter after a seemingly unending Op that he didn’t want to relive. The hardest part wasn’t the blood or the guts – it was being away from you. Nothing would ever change that, even if he was the one on the ground gritting his teeth at the bite of a bullet.

“Scout’s honor, Old Man.” The happiness in your voice makes him smile to himself. 

“Stop calling me that, Muppet.” John grumbles affectionately, rolling his eyes, “I’ll give you a call when back I’m in town, Sunshine. Make sure the door’s locked–”

“--Locked, the windows too, plus, if someone knocks on the door I need to look through the peephole and if I don’t recognize them don’t open it…Am I missing anything?”

“Mind yourself, now you’re just being cheeky, you are.” John teases, scoffing, but proud that you remembered his rules. It made all of this just a bit more manageable.

“Who do you think I got it from?” You laugh, but it tapers off sullenly, “Just…get home safe, okay, Dad?”

John’s beard pulls back into a soft close-lipped grin, eyes crinkling as his heart warms. He so desperately wanted to ruffle your hair. 

“Of course, Hun. But, eh, take a nap. It’s still early, and I know you’ve got schoolwork to do later. You sound like you’re about to keel over where you stand.” You scoff before agreeing with a muttered grumble, most likely already stumbling to the living room couch, and then the line goes silent and is replaced once more by the whirring of the helicopter blades. 

The man peels back the phone and pockets it, hand unconsciously brushing his breast pouch where a picture of the two of you always sits. It was a baby picture, with your little form held in his grip delicately; looking down at you with soft eyes and an easy smile on his lips that always formed when he was with you. From under a soft blanket, your tiny hand reaches out to try and brush his stubbily cheek. 

It never failed to bring him ease when he realized the photo was there. A reminder that if everything else in his life went horribly wrong, you would still be looking up at him with those eyes of yours. At the very least, he had managed to do one thing right.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a good kid.” Gaz calls at him, and John spares him a glance out of the side of his eye with a raised brow.

“I know she is. I’m the one who raised her.”

—

You remember eating a piece of toast before you made your way over to the couch, throwing your phone to the coffee table haphazardly before tossing yourself onto the cushions. Still in your pajamas, you can’t find it in you to go and grab the homework in your backpack this early. The sun had only just risen, and the bags under your eyes reminded you how late you stayed up last night. 

But your father had never shown up.

Frantic was too light a word to describe the feeling you had when your eyelids had peeled back to the empty living room and the TV still playing. It had been second nature to snatch your phone and call the secure line – half of you had said it was better to call Laswell, just in case, but your adolescent brain had wanted nothing more than to hear your father’s voice.

He would make it better. But you needed to hear his voice. 

Dad, you remembered pleading to yourself as the sound of the dial tone echoed in your ear, please answer the phone. Please. Answer the fucking phone. 

Your heart was pounding; hands shaking. He never just didn’t show up when he said he was going to. Never. Your dad was punctual – always on time no matter what – and he had ingrained the same sentiment in you as well. 

When his deep voice finally bounced in your eardrums you nearly started to cry, missing the first hurried and concern-filled inquiry of where you were. Hearing his voice put you at ease, and after a week of missing your father’s strong presence and his warm hugs, it was hard not to take a shaky inhale when he seemed so close.

You just wanted him home; you wanted him to make you pancakes and help you with your schoolwork. You wanted him to read a book to you on this couch like you were a toddler again while his old record player was on in the background. 

It was childish, getting so worked up about it, but your dad meant the world to you. Not having him here felt wrong. 

Sighing, you rub at your eyes and revel in the darkness before letting out a strained yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it over your body. It didn’t take long before your eyes were flickering shut, a calm quiet settling over the house as cars passed by outside in the street. You pull the blanket closer and breathe, inhaling pine needles and ash. 

You don’t know how long you were there, twitching in your sleep before the scent woke you up – it makes your nose scrunch, eyelids blinking away fuzz. There was a pillow under your head, the blanket wrapped tight around your neck to keep out the London chill, and a clanking of pans in the kitchen. Scraping spatula over cast iron, you knew, the sizzling of batter. 

The haze of that in-between state, sleep and consciousness fighting in the back of your skull and under your hairline, stays even as you try to force it away. It was like a wave – it constantly pulled you under when you thought you were getting to the surface. Your eyes would blink open and closed; comforted back into sleep by the deep humming, the waver of an old record player. Feet over hardwood and the smell of fresh pancakes. 

Dad’s home. 

A delirious smile slides over your sleep-hot face. That was why you were so content. This was what home sounded and smelled like. 

Dad’s home. You repeat it once more, nuzzling farther into your father's travel pillow he brings to and from Base. Pine needles. Ash. Cigar smoke.

Dad’s home! Your eyes snap open wildly, your body shooting up from the cushions as the blanket falls to the floor. Angling your head to the separated kitchen, you swipe the drool from your mouth with a heavy hand and listen. 

Your dreams had tricked you before, but no. Not this time. 

He was humming along to some old tune under his breath that mirrored the record player behind the couch; the antique turned low so it wouldn’t wake you. Blinking in shock, your mouth morphs into a rich smile instantaneously. 

Throwing yourself off the couch, your feet slam to the floor, rushing and almost tripping over the blanket on the floor as your body slants forward. Giggling, you push on, righting yourself with no second thought other than welcoming your dad home the same as you always did. Zipping around the corner, a shadow is already turning your way, a plate of pancakes ready to be put on the table and devoured. 

“Dad!” You yell loudly and launch yourself at him, hearing his chest let out a grunt and his hands splay around you so he won’t drop breakfast food all over the floor. 

A velvety chuckle is wrung from his body, and his free digits go to rest heavily on your head as you shove yourself into his hold. Gripping his shirt tight between your fingers, you try not to cry when that scent that had been fading from the house comes back tenfold. Your eyes burn, but you only let one tear out when your dad’s finger begins stroking your hair just like he did when you were little.

You had been so worried. 

“There’s my girl,” His voice whispers out, “I’m here, Sunshine. Easy now.” 

“I thought you died,” You can’t help the helpless gasp that rips from you. Your father’s hand freezes; body going rigid around your smaller, desperately grasping frame. The atmosphere of the room flips. Digging into the fabric of his shirt the full flood of tears finally comes forward. “W-when I woke up and you weren’t here I… I thought you were never coming back home, and that I would have to go and live with the neighbors and I’d have to bury you in the cemetery. I don’t-don’t wanna have to put you in the ground.” You’re rambling, but you can’t stop the words. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone.” 

At some point, the plate of pancakes had been tossed to the counter without care for if the porcelain cracked from the force, and both of your father's arms hand scooped you into his hold effortlessly. Your breath was hiccuping violently, tears making his shirt wet and sticking to his skin. 

But John didn’t care. 

He wrapped his arms around you and curled his body in, taking you into a hold so warm and tight you couldn’t leave it even if you tried.

What’ve I done? The man feels his lips tense, blinking down at your shaking body with guilt as you sob. Oh, my Little Girl, I’m so sorry. What’ve I done to you? 

Had he never noticed the toll that this job was taking on you? John asked himself this in disgust as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words into your hair under his shaky breath. He hated when you cried because of him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Love, alright? Look at me.” You don’t move your bruising grip, face still held away from sight as you gasp down frantic breaths. John’s voice gets firmer, “Sweetheart, I need you to look at me, yeah?”

Your tight fingers stutter, and your head barely shifts to the side, one red eye peeking up as he looks down at you with all the love he can muster without looking incredibly broken. He never wanted to see you cry again but knew that would be an impossible feat to accomplish – but he’d do his damndest to try.

“There she is.” John’s hand goes to your cheek, brushing away the saltwater with a calloused thumb as you sniffle. “Just keep those eyes on me, Little One.”

“...M’ not little anymore.” You grumble out, your cheeks heating even as your pulse slows as you focus on your dad's eyes. So soft the edges were nearly liquid; water that held your attention as they lapped across your form. 

“To me, you’ll always be little. Can’t change that I’m afraid.” The man grunts out, tilting his head down at you and letting his eyes travel from concern to comfort. But that doesn’t change the present. 

“I’m so sorry, Love,” Your father mutters, eyes flickering away from yours in guilt so rarely shown to others. He always prided himself on being strong, you knew, bearing the brunt of the weight. Apologies weren’t often verbally said until it truly mattered. “I should have called you. That’s all on me, that is. Bloody stupid to forget about, knowin’ how you wait up for me.” 

Your lips thin to mimic your dad's, brows pulling close. But in your chest, your heart couldn’t be larger. You didn’t hold it against him, but you wished he could be here more often; not put himself in dangerous situations. Knowing as little as you did about your dad's actual job, you still knew it wasn’t entirely safe. 

Maybe the two of you protected each other from the things unseen. 

Your chest aches.

“...You’re funny lookin’ when you have to apologize. Like a kicked bear.” Pulling back your lips, a tiny smile lighting your face, and you look up at your dad with a sniffle in your nose. 

His visage snaps to yours, eyebrows going high on his head in surprise, and hooded blue eyes widening. It takes a moment, but a smirk pushes back his beard when he sees the tears have stopped falling. 

“Yeah?” John asks you, a grumble reverberating in his chest, “Now, y’know, that is just bloody rude, Sunshine. Thought I raised you better…And after I made you pancakes.” 

Laughing, you pull back, stomach rumbling and nose twitching at the prospect of the nearly forgotten food. Slithering past your father, you snatch the plate and fork before rushing into the living room. Jumping on the couch you begin to cut into the carbs, piling pieces into your mouth and smiling at the taste. No one else could make them as your dad could. 

The Brit comes not seconds later, a cup of tea held in his hand before he sits down next to you with a groan, stretching out and laying his socked feet on the coffee table next to your tossed phone from hours earlier. You giggle, suddenly leaning to his large frame and hearing him grunt in retaliation. 

“Tell me a funny story,” You demand, listening to him sip his drink in the mid-morning glow that spreads outside the house and leaks in through the opened curtains. Birds sing outside, heard from the street. 

Your dad hums, his beard tickling your scalp as he leans into you in turn, making you chuckle before he nuzzles against you kissing your head; leading to a larger exclamation of glee before you elbow his gut. 

He laughs and answers with a smile in his voice.

“Hm, did I tell you ‘bout the time Gaz fell out of the Heli?” 

You laugh, eating the rest of the pancake remnants; feeling incredibly happy and warm. There were many memories you loved of your dad and his recounting of stories fit many of them. He always kept out the gory bits – promising himself that he would never lead you down that path no matter what – and always opted for the many downright hilarious situations the rest of the 141 always seemed to get into.

“Yes, but tell me again. It’s funny, especially when you describe his face afterward! Like he–”

“Like he had shit his pants and didn’t want to tell me,” John chuckles, eyes squinted, looking down at you as you snuggle into his side. He wraps an arm over your shoulders, taking your empty plate with one hand and putting it on the side table before pulling you close and making sure his tea won’t spill. He feels your tiny, bird-like, heartbeat on his ribcage and knows that nothing could ever take you away from him. You would always be his little girl.  “Yeah, Love, I remember that one. Now, let me start from the beginning…”

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TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @antigonusyuki, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @lora21, @330bpm-whiplash, @michirulol, @john-pricee, @cl0wncxre, @jade-jax, @anna-banana27, @lothiriel9, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @bespectacledhuman, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @wolfyland07, @shoe1412, @jaimiespn

[twignotstick]

Broken Brothers (and How to Fix Them)

Part 3 💜 | Part 1 <- 🧡 | Part 2 <- 💙

Note: This story is based on @cupcakeslushie 's Empyrean Weeping au. These characters are not my own, and this story is in no way canon to the main story. I wrote this as my love letter to the story and the characters. Especially April :)

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Donnie & April, April & the Turtles, NOT MY CHARACTERS, Empyrean Weeping AU, recovery (hehehehehe), talking it out because we're adults, skating, social avoidance? idk how to tag that

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): yelling, some violent actions

Words: 2,065

Summary: April was able to figure out her first brother easily. Now, she gets three more, with a couple more issues to worry about.

----------------------

One brother was already a lot. He was sweet, if a little violent. April was content with one brother.

Then she found out he had two more. Lost in their youth, taken away, never to be seen again. Suddenly, one wasn't enough. April wanted three brothers.

So she got them. One by one, she welcomed her new brothers into their home. She helped them feel safe and welcomed. And, in turn, they helped her learn her place as a big sister.

Now, four? Four whole brothers? That was pushing it.

Donnie was a wild card. Some days, he'd bounce around madly, blabbering about whatever “improvements” he'd made in the lair (always putting Splinter on edge, yet he could never find any problems with whatever Donnie did, probably because his brothers did damage control before he could catch it). Other days, he'd literally hiss at April until she left. Not just left the lair; left the sewers.

This day was supposed to be one of those days. Donnie was visibly shaking with all the pent up energy in him. The brothers had apparently had an “intervention” with Donnie after the previous night, when he had almost broken a major support beam in the lair just so he could collapse it on April. Now, he wasn't allowed to show violence to April in any form for a whole week. In exchange, he'd be allowed to take a single blood sample from each of his brothers, which was the weirdest trade April had ever heard. But Donnie really wanted it.

And boy, was it hard for him.

“Did you see that?! Did you see? I totally landed that one!” Mikey yelped, shaking on his skateboard.

“Good job, big man.” Raph stepped up beside him, lightly touching Mikey's shoulder and making his eyes widen as he tried to maintain his balance.

Mikey had been wanting to practice his skate tricks, and Raph wanted to make sure he did it in a safe environment. The skate ramp in the lair was perfect. Even if they were just practicing kickflips at the bottom, it was safe and contributed to good vibes.

While Raph and Mikey stood at the bottom, April, Leo, and Donnie sat at the top with their legs dangling beneath them. Well, April and Leo's legs were dangling. Donnie was perched up like a frog, knees thrown out to the sides and his hands curled on the edge of the ramp. Leo, of course, was between him and his self proclaimed mortal enemy, absorbing as much murderous intent as he could. It was a lot, to put it nicely.

“Do you think he'll ever actually get to use the ramp?” Leo asked, enjoying the spectacle of his youngest brother getting properly babied by his oldest.

“Four is definitely tough enough to survive a fall from this height,” Donnie responded cheerily. “His shell is the best of all of us. A human, on the other hand, would likely get severely injured if they were to be shoved off the edge.” His face grew the slightest grin at the imaginary violence.

“Watch the language.” Leo raised a brow to Donnie. “And it's Mikey, remember? Not Four.”

“R-right!” Donnie stammered, patting his hands on the side of the ramp. “Four is Mikey.”

“No, Mikey is Mikey. His name isn't Four, and it never was. Just like my name isn't Two, Raph's name isn't One, and your name isn't Three. You're our brother. Donatello.”

Leo was getting slightly agitated, and Donnie- or maybe Three- was starting to fidget and rock back and forth. It was clear that Leo wanted Donnie to just give up all this number talk and act like their childhoods hadn't happened. But that was just an impossible task. April could tell that this situation would be quick to spiral.

“Hey, uh, Leo?” April asked, getting his attention.

“Yes?”

“Betcha can't do an ollie.”

Leo turned fully to face April. “A what?”

“I-it's a skateboard trick…” Donnie said, causing Leo's attention to whip around again. “F- Mikey showed me a couple days ago.”

“Oh.” Leo's brow ridges tightened as he whipped back to face April. “You think I can't pull some stupid skate trick? You are so on.” Leo slid down the ramp, using his carapace like a sled. “Mikey! Give me your board!”

Donnie watched him slide down with wide eyes. “Has he… ever skated before?” He asked, mildly concerned.

“Nope. Never even touched a board.” April smirked. “He's gonna be stuck down there for at least an hour.” She looked over at Donnie, who was gazing down at his brothers with a lost glaze over his eyes.

“You wanna go join them, Donnie?”

The softshell's neck popped as he snapped to glare at April. The murderous intent that had been building suddenly channeled into his face, and he growled before standing up and stomping away swiftly toward his recently decorated room.

April glanced down at the three brothers having fun, then pushed herself up to follow the one who wasn't.

“Wait, Donnie! What's wrong? I-”

“Stop.” The turtle hissed, not turning around to face her.

“Stop? Donnie, what did I-”

“I SAID STOP IT! STOP CALLING ME THAT!” He pressed the heels of his hands into the sides of his head.

“What do you mean? Just tell me what's-”

The turtle turned on his heel in the doorframe. “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I don't know how to put it in a way your STUPID HUMAN BRAIN WILL UNDERSTAND!” His face morphed into a manic grin. “Goodbye! So long! Sayonara! Toodaloo! GET OUT OF MY FACE!”

The door slammed shut, and April was left breathless.

----------------------

April came back the next day to a much quieter lair. The boys were keeping space from each other, whether consciously or not. Raph was wandering around, trying to act like everything was okay. Leo was training in the dojo. Mikey was spending more time around Splinter than he usually did.

The final brother was still locked in his room.

April decided to join Mikey to bring him his second meal of the day. The first one, a small plate of rice, was still outside the door, now cold and dry.

Mikey knocked lightly, barely tapping the door with his knuckles. “Donnie?” He whispered. “I've got more food for you. It's your favorite- flavorless mush! I tested it myself, no taste at all. I promise!”

The offer was met with silence.

Mikey sighed and let his shoulders slump, backing away from the door. “I just don't get it,” he muttered pathetically. “He hasn't even come out to pee, April. Do you think he's just peeing in a cup? Or a corner? Does Donnie have a pee corner that we don't know about?”

“Mikey, it's okay.” April grabbed his shoulder. “First of all, yes, he probably does, and that just means we get to bond over cleaning his room when this is over. Second, you shouldn't have to worry about this.”

“I'm so sorry, April.” Mikey looked down to his feet. “I don't know why he hates you so much. Maybe if we hadn't-”

“Don't apologize,” April interrupted. “If anyone needs to apologize, it's me.”

Mikey looked back up at his big sister with wide eyes. “Why?”

She sighed. “Because I did something wrong.” April took the food from Mikey's hands. “I'll get him to eat. I'll text you if things go super wrong, but otherwise, ignore any loud noises. I have a feeling this might get… violent.”

Mikey puffed his chest. “Roger, roger!” He saluted and rushed down the hall, supposedly to find Raph and warn him of April's plan before he could start panicking.

April stood next to the door. “Hey, bud,” she started. “It's April. I've got your food, and I'm not gonna leave until you let me in to give it to you.”

After about two minutes of just standing there and getting no response, April sat down. She would say something every few minutes, just to remind him she was still there.

48 minutes later, the lock clicked.

April opened the door slowly. Glancing around the room, she could see the state of disarray it was in. Clothes carpeted the floor, as well as abandoned scrap projects. The turtle was cloaked beneath blankets on his bed, only his bright eyes glaring out at the invader.

She left the door open and stood to the side, getting just close enough. She didn't want him to feel threatened or trapped. She placed the (well cold by now) food next to the growling blanket pile and backed away. Waiting a second, just until he proved he would actually start eating, she spoke.

“Why don't you want me to call you Donnie?”

The pile shifted. “You just… you just can't.”

“Why not?”

“...because Splinter gave me that name. It's my name as his son. As Raph, Leo, and Mikey's brother. Not yours.”

April was about to pose a question, but the softshell suddenly sat up and started showing his anger. In the action, he also revealed the red marks growing on his arms from squeezing them.

“Because I don't care how much time you spend around us. I don't care how much One likes you, or how much Four draws you, or how much stupid stuff you watch with Two! You aren't related to me. It's scientifically impossible. We don't share any genetic material. You aren't my brother!”

With frazzled eyes, he turned and grabbed April's collar, bringing the two face to face.

“And you are most definitely not my sister.”

He shoved April away and sulked back in his den. The girl decided to take the violent outburst as an invitation to get closer, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“...that's okay.”

She only got a sniff in response.

“I don't need to be your sister. Or your brother. All I want is to be your friend. And if that means I call you something else, that's okay. Just tell me what you want me to call you, and I'll do it. Maybe I can call you Purple like Splints has been. Or I'll call you Three, if you really want me to.”

The turtle, Donnie to some, showed his face, keeping the blankets wrapped around his shoulders. His fingers were digging into his upper arms.

“And I know you might not like me, but I'm not going anywhere. Your brothers like me, and they'll be upset if I go away.” When she saw the softshell's grip tighten, she quickly added, “And I know that if they had to choose, they'd pick you. But they don't have to. They don't want to.”

The turtle stared aimlessly in front of him. “...I don't… I…”

“I can just not call you anything if you can't decide. Y'know, just call you ‘dude’ and stuff.”

His shoulders lifted higher, touching the sides of his chin. “That… that works…”

April smiled wide. “Great.”

The two sat there, just accepting each other's company. Donnie's tight posture slowly loosened, and April focused on making sure his breathing was even.

This poor boy had never known true family. He had never known learning to trust people and taking them in. He had never been taken in. This concept, choosing family, was so foreign. Because to him, family wasn't something you could choose.

April would never allow that. Never again.

“...sooo, do you have a pee corner?”

“What?!”

April held her hands up defensively. “Mikey said you haven't come out to pee! I just wanted to know if you had a pee corner!”

“No?! Why would you automatically assume I have a pee corner?”

“Because you haven't come out of your room to pee! What, do you have a pee cup instead?!”

“No!”

“Then what have you been doing?!”

Donnie pointed to a spot in the room, and April looked over to see a very D.I.Y. toilet, made of scrap metal welded together. (She could recall that Donnie's welding materials had been taken from him weeks ago.) “I hooked it up to go straight into the tunnels,” Donnie boasted proudly. “I even dug the holes myself! Digged? Dug.”

“...yeeeah, we're getting rid of that,” April grimaced.

“WHAT?! WHY?!”

“YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHY.”

----------------------

[In time, Donnie would let April call him by his name. And, in time, he would learn that his name was his, and his alone.]

○●○●○●○

And that's it! Totally! April has started on her long journey to fixing all of her broken brothers! She has NO OTHER BROTHERS THAT HAVE ISSUES, why would you ever think that 🟥🐢

This part gave me quite a few problems. Knowing that the "Maps" comic is probably going to explore April and Donnie's relationship, I was a little scared about making assumptions. Also, you don't realize how difficult it is to write someone who isn't all there until you're actually trying to do it. Eventually I just said "screw it, if he's out of character, its fine". So now we're here :)

ALso, no one tells you how motivating and powerful the high you get when someone you look up to praises your work is, I thought this would take me WAY LONGER to finish 🤡

aanyway, congrats to all the tmnt au comp winners, again. Can't wait to see who moves on from here :D

Part 4 -> ❤️

[kckt88]

Wings of Departure.

Summary:

'I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone' - J. R R Tolkien

She simultaneously loved him and hated him in equal measure, but in the deep recesses of her mind, Vaena wondered if she could truly stand by and allow her husband to die, to stand there and watch as he was executed or worse to face him in the skies and fight to the death on dragon back.

It made her feel sick to her stomach-

But sooner or later she knew that she would have to make a choice.

Warning(s): Angst, Swearing, Family Drama, O.C Is Sick of Her Mother's B.S, Mild Violence, Referenced Character Deaths, Plots, Eavesdropping, Alicent Selling Out Her Own Sons, Dragons, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut, Kissing, Oral Sex (M & F Recieving), P in V.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 11K

A.N - Aemond and O.C say FUCK THIS SHIT!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Princess Vaena Targaryen stood by the Painted Table on Dragonstone, her fingers tracing the intricate details of the carved map.

The ancient table, depicting the entirety of Westeros, seemed to throb with a life of its own under the flickering torchlight. Beside her stood brother Jacaerys, his youthful face set in a determined scowl as he leaned forward, his hands planted firmly on the table's edge.

Their mother, Queen Rhaenyra, stood with her advisors in deep discussion. The room was thick with the weight of recent losses and grim prospects. Princess Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was, had fallen at Rook's Rest, her dragon Meleys dead alongside her.

The greens had suffered too; as Aegon lay grievously injured, and his dragon Sunfyre was unlikely to survive. Yet, the cost to Rhaenyra’s own cause had been steep, and the morale within Dragonstone had been shaken.

Jacaerys broke away from the table, his voice clear and insistent as he addressed their mother. "We must press our advantage now. Vhagar is no doubt injured from her fight with Meleys. She is vulnerable. We should take Cannibal, Syrax, and Vermax and descend on the hoary old bitch. She might be the largest dragon in the world, but not even she could withstand a combined attack from three dragons. Without Vhagar, the greens’ position would be greatly weakened."

Rhaenyra, her face pale and drawn, shook her head slowly. Her eyes, filled with sorrow and fatigue, met her son’s fiery gaze. "No, Jace. I do not wish to unleash the dragons on King's Landing. I do not wish to rule over ash and bone”

Vaena watched the exchange, feeling the tension in the room rise. The thought of further destruction, of turning King's Landing into a charred ruin, filled her with dread. Yet, she could see the logic in Jacaerys’ words.

"Mother-" Vaena said softly, stepping closer to Rhaenyra. "Jace has a point. Vhagar is a significant threat, and if we could neutralize her, it would tip the scales in our favour. We don't have to attack King's Landing directly. We can find Vhagar while she is weak and take her down."

“Vaena-” muttered Rhaenyra, her fingers moving across the edge of the painted table.

"Mother, your inaction is only going to end with more losses. You should have listened to Daemon when the greens first usurped the throne, but you chose not to act."

Rhaenyra's face tightened with a mix of sorrow and fatigue, but before she could respond, Vaena pressed on. "Look what's happened because of it! Luke is dead, Daemon is lost to Harrenhal, Rhaenys is dead, and we've lost Duskendale and Rook’s Rest to the greens. And now, when we have a chance to strike at Vhagar while she's vulnerable, you refuse to act again!"

The Queen’s eyes filled with pain, but she maintained her composure. "I do not wish to rule over ash and bone, Vaena. The cost of this war has already been too high."

Vaena's eyes flashed with anger and frustration. "And it will only get higher if you continue to hesitate”.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I understand your frustration, Vaena. However, since the claiming of Seasmoke-I am considering a plan to have anyone with Valyrian blood attempt to claim the riderless dragons that currently reside in the dragon mount”

“To what end?” asked Vaena pursing her lips.

“I’m hoping that having more dragons on my side may act as a deterrent-”

"-That’s ludicrous!" Vaena shouted. "How can you consider letting just anyone try to claim a dragon? It’s dangerous! Loyalty is fickle, and people can be easily swayed. We cannot risk the dragons falling into the wrong hands."

Rhaenyra's voice was firm but tinged with desperation. "I have no other option available to me”

“Surely my Cannibal is enough”

“As fearsome as your dragon is, Cannibal is but one dragon, we stand a better chance with Vermithor, Grey Ghost and Silver-” replied Rhaenyra.

Vaena's face flushed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides. "-You promised that when Aerion was old enough, he would be given the chance to claim Silverwing”

Rhaenyra's expression softened, but she did not waver. "I have not forgotten my promise. But we are in desperate times, and desperate measures are required”

Vaena’s anger surged, her amethyst eyes blazing with fury as she faced her mother. "You promised me that Aerion would have a chance to claim Silverwing when he was old enough. Now, you’re going back on your word. You say you mourn our losses, but I don’t believe you. You seem more bothered by Daemon’s involvement in the assassination of Jaehaerys than by the death of your own son”.

Rhaenyra's face darkened, her own anger flaring. "-It was your own husband that killed  Luke!"

The words hung in the air, sharp and painful. Vaena’s face flushed with rage, and she stepped closer to her mother, the anger and frustration boiling to the surface.

"All of this is your fault. Maybe if you had remained in King’s Landing and actually spent time solidifying your position as heir to the Iron Throne, then it wouldn’t have been so easy to usurp you. Maybe if you had bonded with your siblings instead of scorning them, our family be so divided. And maybe if you had made Luke apologize for slashing out Aemond’s eye, he might still be alive."

Rhaenyra’s eyes blazed with fury, but there was also a flicker of hurt in them. "You dare challenge my authority? Everything I’ve done has been for the sake of our family, for the Targaryen legacy. I have lost as much as you, Vaena. Do not presume to understand the burdens I carry."

Vaena’s voice was raw with emotion. "I do understand, Mother. I understand that your inaction has cost us dearly. I understand that your decisions—or lack thereof—have led to the deaths of our loved ones. And I understand that if we continue down this path, more will die."

Rhaenyra’s expression hardened, and she took a step back, her eyes narrowing. "You think you could do better? You think you could make the decisions that need to be made? This war is not as simple as you believe."

Vaena’s eyes met her mother’s, unyielding. "Maybe I could. Maybe someone needs to. Because right now, all I see is a Queen too afraid to act, and a realm falling apart because of it."

Rhaenyra's eyes blazed with fury, her voice sharp and commanding. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner? I am not only your mother, but your Queen!"

Vaena laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and mocking. "Daemon had the right idea—get as far away from you as possible."

Rhaenyra's face contorted with rage, her voice rising to a shout. "Get out of my sight! NOW!"

Vaena's eyes flashed with defiance as she turned on her heel. "Gladly”

She stormed towards the door, her steps quick and angry. Jace moved to intercept her, his face pleading. "Vaena, wait! Please, don't go-”

Vaena shook her head, her voice cold. "-If things carry on as they are, we’re all going to die."

With that, she pushed past him, and left the room, the echoes of her footsteps fading down the corridor.

Vaena stormed down the dimly lit corridors of Dragonstone, her mind a whirlwind of anger and frustration. She reached her chambers and pushed the door open with more force than she intended, startling the maid who was attending to her three-year-old son, Aerion.

"Leave us," Vaena said curtly, and the maid, sensing her mood, quickly curtsied and exited the room without a word.

As soon as the door shut, Vaena's gaze softened, shifting to Aerion, who was sitting on the floor surrounded by his toys. The little boy looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. "Mummy sad," he said, his voice filled with concern.

Vaena managed a slight nod, her heart aching at the purity of his concern. She moved to sit on the floor beside him, trying to push the tumultuous argument with her mother from her mind.

Aerion reached out with one of his toys, a small wooden dragon, and offered it to her. "Mummy play," he said, his face lighting up with a hopeful smile.

Vaena's lips curved into a tender smile as she took the toy from him. "Thank you, my sweet boy."

Aerion giggled, his joy infectious, and for a moment, Vaena felt the heavy weight of her anger and sorrow lift.

Vaena stood on the stone balcony of Dragonstone. Her gaze was fixed on the boats approaching the shore, each one carrying hopeful souls eager for the chance to claim a dragon.

Since the argument, Vaena had not spoken to her mother. They had taken to avoiding each other, a silence that was more painful than any confrontation.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Jace entering the room, his presence a welcome distraction. Aerion, who was playing with his toys on the floor, looked up with a bright smile.

"Jace!"

Jace grinned as he ruffled the boy’s silver hair affectionately. "Hello, little one," he said, his voice warm.

“Play dragons-”

“I’m a little busy at the moment-but I’ll play later” replied Jace.

“Ok-look Vhagar” exclaimed Aerion as he held up a wooden dragon figure.

“Very good” replied Jace softly.

“I miss daddy-” muttered Aerion sadly as he moved his dragon figurine through the air.

“I know you do sweet boy” said Vaena as she looked at Jace who ruffled Aerion’s hair again before standing up.

"Are you coming to witness the claiming of Vermithor?" asked Jace.

Vaena shook her head, her expression resolute. "No, I’m not."

Jace nodded, a shadow of understanding crossing his face. "Alright. I’ll see you later then."

As Jace moved towards the door, Vaena's voice stopped him. "It’s wrong. Letting common folk lay claim to the dragons—it weakens the Targaryen legacy."

Jace paused at the threshold, his hand on the door handle. He hesitated, looking back at her with a thoughtful expression. Then, with a nod, he opened the door and stepped out, leaving Vaena alone with Aerion.

A few hours later, the aftermath of the dragon claiming ceremony had left Dragonstone abuzz with a mixture of relief and tension. Vermithor had been claimed by Hugh Hammer, and Grey Ghost had found a new rider in Ulf.

Vaena had watched as Ulf, in his drunken stupor, had taken Grey Ghost on a flight towards King’s Landing.

Her heart had nearly stopped when Vhagar had appeared off the shore of Dragonstone, relentless in her pursuit.

Her husband was no doubt furious over the events that had transpired, the claiming of a dragon was supposed to be sacred, it was supposed to mean something. It was not something to be used at the whim of a drunken lout who didn’t know his arse from his elbow.

Seeing Vhagar and knowing Aemond was only a short distance away made her heart skip a beat, she was so angry with him, she was hurt and felt betrayed but part of her still longed for him.

Longed to hear his voice, to feel the warmth of his skin, the touch of his lips. To lay in the privacy of their chambers and shut the world out, where Aemond would whisper words of love as he sheathed his cock inside her, his grunts and groans of pleasure as he pounded inside her with deep measured thrusts.

But most of all she missed seeing him with Aerion, it was their duty to produce a child and Aemond was rather enthusiastic in that regard, as he would often spill his seed inside her, sometimes more than once a day, so it was no surprise really when she discovered that she was with child.

It was considered normal for men not to frequent the marriage bed once his wife was with child, but Aemond wasn’t most men-in fact seeing her grow round with his child made his sexual appetite grow ravenous.

When he wasn’t attending his regular duties, he was between her thighs endlessly worshipping her body, with his mouth, fingers and cock. Aegon would often tease him, saying that she was already with child, and he didn’t need to keep sticking it in her as often as he did.

But Vaena knew Aemond couldn’t help it, he was especially drawn to her rapidly growing breasts, he would press his face in between them and close his eye as she stroked his hair.

After she birthed their son, his attention to her breasts only increased. Especially when it was declared that she had healed from the birth and was ready to resume their physical intimacy.

Feeding their son often left her breasts swollen and sore and Aemond ever the attentive husband was willing and eager to help sooth her aches and pains, his lips wrapped around her rosy nipples as he suckled from her.

It was an unspoken level of intimacy between man and wife, one they never verbally recognised but knew that it was necessary.

She simultaneously loved him and hated him in equal measure, and in the deep recesses of her mind, Vaena wondered if she could truly stand by and allow her husband to die, to watch as he was executed or worse to face him in the skies and fight to the death on dragon back.

It made her feel sick to her stomach, and as she watched Aemond flee, she let out a relieved sigh, he would not meet the stranger today.

But sooner or later his days would be numbered, and she would have to make a choice.

Despite the discord between her and her mother, Vaena had been summoned to attend a dinner with the new dragon riders, as much as she wanted to refuse, the expectations of duty and the weight of family ties compelled her to attend.

She had dressed herself carefully, donning a gown of deep red, with black dragon scale patterns on the shoulders that shimmered in the low light. Her reflection in the looking glass was a mask of composed elegance, but beneath the surface, her emotions churned.

The dinner was to be held in one of Dragonstone’s grand halls, where the feast would mark the acceptance of the new dragon riders into their fold.

Before leaving, she turned to her young son, Aerion, who was playing quietly with Darna, her lady-in-waiting. The loyal maid had taken on the task of caring for Aerion with gentle efficiency, providing some measure of comfort to both mother and child.

“I’ll be back soon, Aerion,” Vaena said, kneeling to kiss her son’s forehead. “Darna will take good care of you while I’m away.”

Aerion looked up at her with innocent curiosity, his small hand reaching out to touch her cheek. “Mummy go?”

Vaena nodded, forcing a reassuring smile. “Yes, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.”

With one last, lingering look at her son, Vaena straightened and made her way to the hall. The corridors of Dragonstone seemed to stretch endlessly, each step echoing her apprehension.

As she approached the hall, Vaena braced herself for the evening ahead, her mind still swirling with the day’s events and the fractured relationship with her mother.

Vaena entered the grand dining hall, her steps echoing softly against the polished stone. The room was illuminated by flickering candlelight, casting long shadows across the walls and creating a warm, yet tense atmosphere. The long table was set with an array of sumptuous dishes, but the air was thick with unspoken tension.

She approached her mother, who was seated at the head of the table, and offered a slight bow. “Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra looked up, her expression a mix of weariness and strained courtesy. “Vaena, I’m glad you could join us. Allow me to introduce you to our new dragon riders.”

Vaena nodded as her mother gestured to the men seated at the table. “This is Hugh Hammer,” Rhaenyra said.

Hugh Hammer rose from his seat and gave a respectful bow. His presence was imposing, and he offered a curt nod in acknowledgment.

Next, Rhaenyra indicated Addam of Hull, who also rose and bowed graciously. His demeanour was more reserved.

Finally, Rhaenyra introduced Ulf, who was hunched over a plate, stuffing his face with food. He looked up with a surprised expression, hastily wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“Oh, one eye’s wife!” he declared loudly, a smirk playing on his lips.

Vaena's face tightened with anger at the derogatory nickname for her husband, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury.

She took her seat next to Jace, who reached under the table to squeeze her hand gently. The small gesture of comfort was a balm to her frayed nerves.

As the meal progressed, the conversation around the table was strained and awkward. Rhaenyra discussed potential plans to attack the Greens’ strongholds, including Old Town and Lannisport. The room buzzed with conflicting opinions.

Baela, her voice firm, questioned the morality of targeting innocent civilians. “Is it right to attack innocent people just to break our enemies' will?”

Jace, his expression resolute, replied, “It is difficult, but it must be done. We have to ensure that our enemies understand the cost of their defiance.”

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement. “We must break their will. Only then will we secure our future.”

“What of Aemond, he will not sit idle as you attack Oldtown” asked Vaena.

Ulf, who had been quietly eating, suddenly interrupted with a poorly timed joke. “You needn’t worry about one eye, too busy in the brothels he is”

Vaena's face turned a deep red with rage as she looked at Ulf “W-What?”

Ulf, oblivious to the weight of his words, leaned forward with a smirk, his hand grasping at her wrist  “I heard he was caught in a brothel on the streets of Silk, discovered by his own brother, naked in the madam’s arms.”

The room fell silent, the comment hanging like a heavy shroud. Vaena's anger erupted; she snatched her hand away from Ulf, her voice trembling with fury. “Do not presume to touch me again! I am not one of your common lickspittles!”

“Apologise Princess-but it’s only fair that you knew what the kinslayer was up too, not sparing you a single thought as he sought out the madam, it’s an insult-betraying you in such a manner”

“You-” snarled Vaena as she seized a handful of Ulf’s grey hair and slammed his head down on the table with a resounding thud.

Ulf, taken aback, tried to recover his composure but found himself struggling against Vaena’s vice-like grip.

“Let him go, Vaena!” Rhaenyra commanded, her voice laced with a mix of shock and authority.

Vaena’s glare was a storm of betrayal and hurt. She held Ulf’s head down for a moment longer before releasing him. He slumped back into his chair, stunned and humiliated.

Leaning closer, Vaena’s voice was cold and menacing. “You a stain on the Targaryen legacy and if you so much as look in my direction again, I will have you fed to my Cannibal.”

With that, Vaena turned on her heel and stormed out of the dining hall, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and tears. The weight of Ulf’s vile comments about Aemond had struck a raw nerve, and the sting of his words lingered as she fled down the corridor.

Vaena entered her chambers, the heavy door closing behind her with a quiet thud. The room was dimly lit by the flickering light of a few candles, casting long shadows across the walls. She moved with a weary grace to the bedside, where Aerion lay fast asleep.

The sight of him, so peaceful and innocent, offered a fleeting moment of solace amid the chaos.

Darna, who had been tending to Aerion, stood by the door, ready to leave. Vaena gave her a nod. “Thank you, Darna. You may go now.”

The maid curtsied and exited the room, closing the door softly behind her. Vaena stood alone, her gaze drifting to the sleeping form of her son. The room felt suddenly heavy with the weight of her memories and her current turmoil.

Her mind wandered back to the last time she had seen Aemond. The memory was as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday. They had argued fiercely about his decision to support the usurpation of the throne from her mother.

Aemond had been adamant that Aegon was the rightful king, citing his status as the first-born son. “Viserys’ wishes mean nothing,” Aemond had said, his voice cold and resolute. “Aegon is the one who should rule.”

Vaena had countered with equal fervour. “But Mother was named heir by King Viserys himself! He upheld her claim steadfastly. This isn’t about bloodlines; it’s about honour and duty!”

Their argument had escalated, and in a desperate move, Aemond had locked her and Aerion in his chambers, preventing her from intervening in the crowning of Aegon. Vaena remembered the fear and helplessness she felt as the reality of their situation set in.

Luckily, Ser Erryk had managed to aid her and Rhaegar in their escape, but the reprieve was short-lived. Mere days later, Aemond’s actions had culminated in the death of her brother Luke.

Vaena sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes tracing the contours of Aerion’s sleeping face.

In the early days of her marriage to Aemond, their relationship had been marked by awkwardness and uncertainty, his ire towards Luke for the loss of his eye lingered beneath the surface, not for the act itself but the lack of apology, and the fact his father seemed more bothered about insults levied against his favourite child’s sons than his own son who had been permanently maimed.

At first Aemond had been stoic and reserved, his attention to her minimal, even their intimate encounters at first were awkward and stilted.

The emotional distance between them had been palpable, and it had felt as though they were two strangers bound by duty rather than affection.

But slowly, as time passed, they had found common ground. They had bonded over their shared love of Valyrian history, spending hours reading ancient texts and discussing their interpretations.

Their conversations had started to bridge the gap that once separated them. They had taken to flying their dragons together, the freedom of the skies offering a sanctuary from the constraints of their royal lives.

Through these moments of connection, Aemond had begun to lower his mask. Vaena had discovered that beneath his reserved exterior was a man who yearned for love and acceptance. It hadn’t been hard to fall in love with him as he revealed more of himself—his vulnerabilities, his hopes, and his dreams.

The transformation had been even more profound with the birth of Aerion. Fatherhood had softened Aemond, revealing a side of him that was determined to be a better father than his own.

He had become attentive and loving, singing Valyrian lullabies to their son and whispering words of affection in the quiet of the night. Those moments of tenderness had forged a bond between them, a connection that was now a painful reminder of what they had lost.

Vaena’s heart raced as she summoned the courage to confront her mother. The weight of her conflicted feelings about Aemond and the looming possibility of battle were pressing heavily upon her.

She knew she needed to speak with her mother about her hesitancy in facing Aemond, even if their relationship was strained. With resolve, she pulled on a robe and ventured out of her chambers.

The night air was crisp, filled with the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore and the distant roars of dragons resting within Dragon mount. She approached her mother’s chambers and knocked gently on the door.

When there was no immediate response, Vaena hesitated, then slowly opened the door. To her surprise, the room was empty. She was about to turn away when she heard muffled voices coming from the corridor below. Curiosity and concern drove her to descend the steps quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the stone.

As she reached the lower level, she caught sight of her mother and Alicent Hightower engaged in a heated conversation. Vaena's heart sank as she ducked behind a large bookcase to listen discreetly. She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp of shock at the gravity of their discussion.

Alicent was speaking urgently. “I cannot bear the thought of losing Helaena and Jaehaera. I’m willing to offer Kings Landing to you-Aemond will soon leave for Harrenhal, in three days’ time you will come to Kings Landing, and I will have the guards throw down their weapons and you can take the Iron Throne without bloodshed”

Vaena’s breath caught in her throat. Alicent was negotiating her daughter’s and granddaughter’s lives, but not her sons.

Rhaenyra’s voice was cold and calculating. “What of Aegon? Does he not matter?”

Alicent’s voice trembled with emotion. “Aegon is broken beyond recognition. He lies in the dark, writhing in pain and terror. He is no longer fit to rule. If you want, I can make him bend the knee-”

Rhaenyra’s response was sharp. “-If I am to take the throne, then I must put an end to the opposition. I cannot afford to show mercy to him or Aemond. Their death’s must be public, I must take their heads for all to see. You must choose, Alicent. Will you remain on this course, or will you sacrifice your sons for the greater good?”

The room fell into a tense silence. Vaena’s heart pounded as she listened, horrified, to the weight of the decision being made. Alicent’s response was a reluctant acceptance. “I-I will m-make the sacrifice”

Vaena’s shock and revulsion were overwhelming. She could hardly believe what she had just heard. Her knees felt weak as she quietly retraced her steps, retreating from the scene.

The cold air of the night seemed to close in around her as she made her way back to her chambers, her mind reeling from the betrayal and the cruel choices being made.

Vaena was in a state of disbelief as she replayed the disturbing conversation she had just overheard. It was all wrong, a web of madness and betrayal that she could scarcely comprehend, a mother willingly sacrificing her own sons.

Then there was her own mother, again desperately clinging to her friendship with Alicent, a friendship that should no longer hold any meaning or significance.

They were on the precipice of war and these two were meeting up like lovers in the cover of darkness. Her mother was blind when it came to Alicent, and surely it would be their undoing.

Fire and Blood was sure to reign and still her mother stays her hand because her childhood companion pleads tearfully and whispers words of surrender.

They were all going to die, and Vaena would not subject her son to such horrors. No matter the cost, she had to protect him; there was no other choice. They had to leave, and they had to leave immediately.

After she had changed into her riding leathers she moved quickly, her heart pounding as she packed a small bag with essentials. The urgency of the situation pushed her to be efficient but thorough.

As she fastened the bag closed, she glanced at Aerion, still sound asleep in his bed. With a heavy heart, she gently woke him, pressing soft kisses to his forehead to soothe him from his slumber.

"We’re going flying, sweetheart," she whispered softly, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. Aerion, barely awake, clung to her instinctively as she lifted him into her arms, his little face pressing into her neck for comfort.

Vaena carefully opened the door to her chambers and peeked into the corridor. It was clear. She moved swiftly through the castle, her steps as quiet as possible, and descended into the Dragon mount.

As she passed the entrance to Silverwing’s cavern, she hesitated.

After the successfully claims of Vermithor and Grey Ghost, she knew her mother still intended to have others try and claim Silverwing but given that Vermithor had killed the majority of the people who came to try their luck, it was unknown as to when anymore hopefuls would arrive, but Vaena didn’t want to take the chance.

The thought of seeing Silverwing being claimed by someone else was unbearable. So, she held Aerion close, took a deep breath and entered the cavern.

Silverwing, the majestic dragon once belonging to the revered Queen Alysanne, lay curled beside a newly laid clutch of eggs. The dragon’s enormous eyes opened slowly at the sound of her approach.

Vaena, speaking in a soothing tone, said, “Lykirī!” (Calm).

Silverwing’s gentle nature shone through as she moved forward and nuzzled Vaena, her massive snout sniffing at Aerion with curiosity.

Aerion looked at the dragon with wide, amethyst eyes full of wonder.

“Dokimarvose Silverwing” Vaena urged softly (Focus).

Aerion placed his small hand on Silverwing’s snout, and the dragon responded with an affectionate coo.

“īlon issi naejot Sōvegon” Vaena said firmly, her voice carrying the weight of her resolve. (We are to fly).

Silverwing tilted her head to the side as she listened.

“Nyke gaomagon daor jaelagon naejot henujagon ao” She looked at Silverwing with a plea in her eyes. (I do not wish to leave you).

The gentle dragon moved forward and nudged Vaena slightly, expelling warm air from her nostrils.

“Māzigon rūsīr issa hāedar” (Come with me, girl).

Silverwing rumbled softly in response, her attention divided between Vaena and her eggs.

Vaena carefully lowered Aerion to the ground and moved toward the dragon’s nest. She picked up a sharp rock and used it to break open the hardened, gelatinous sack encasing three precious eggs.

One by one, she wrapped each egg in a piece of clothing and carefully placed them into her bag.

Aerion held out his hand to Silverwing, who nuzzled it tenderly. “Kostilus māzigon, gēlenka” whispered Aerion (Please come, Silver).

Silverwing cooed in acceptance, sensing the urgency, as the beginnings of a bond began to form between the dragon and the child.

Vaena lifted Aerion back into her arms, her voice resolute “Gūrogon naejot se jēdar īlon jāhor sōvegon hēnkirī” (Take to the sky; we will fly together).

She watched as Silverwing lumbered forward and left the cavern, the dragon’s powerful wings spreading in preparation for flight. Vaena’s heart raced with a mixture of relief and apprehension.

The last step in her plan was to reach her Cannibal.

Vaena took a deep breath as she entered the cavern that housed Cannibal. The immense space was cloaked in shadow, the air thick with the scent of ash and sulphur.

Aerion, clinging tightly to her hand, looked up with wide, apprehensive eyes as Vaena called out, "Naejot Māzīs Cannibal" (Come forward).

The ground beneath her feet trembled as Cannibal’s massive scarred black form emerged from the darkness. His low, rumbling growls of recognition echoed through the cavern, creating a rhythm of sound that seemed both ominous and reassuring.

Vaena approached her dragon with a mixture of awe and relief, placing her head on Cannibal’s scaled flank. His presence, despite the gravity of their situation, was a calming balm for her troubled heart.

Holding Aerion close, Vaena climbed the rope ladder that was affixed to Cannibal’s saddle. The dragon had never been particularly fond of being saddled. In the early days, his dislike had been so fierce that several dragon keepers had met grim fates.

But time had tempered his hostility, and though he still displayed his displeasure, he now accepted the saddle as a necessary part of his existence.

Once she and Aerion were securely fastened into the saddle, Vaena paused.

Where could they possibly go? They had no money, just three dragon eggs, two dragons, and a bag of clothes mostly belonging to Aerion.

Harrenhal was not an option, given her anger towards her father for his role in Jaehaerys' death. And seeking refuge with her mother's allies was equally out of the question, as her mother would undoubtedly pursue them and demand her return.

The only viable destination was one she knew she shouldn’t consider, but with few options remaining, it was her only choice. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

With a determined resolve, she gave Cannibal the command to fly. The massive dragon lumbered out of his cavern, his powerful wings unfurling with a great rustle of scales.

Cannibal’s roar was thunderous as he ascended into the night sky, his presence casting a large shadow over the landscape.

As they soared upward, Silverwing, flying alongside them, approached with caution. Known for his fearsome nature, Cannibal was not a common companion in the skies, and Silverwing, despite her gentleness, remained wary.

Vaena spoke softly to her dragon. "Lykirī" (Be calm).

Cannibal responded with a rumbling purr, and then propelled himself forward, Vaena wrapped her cloak tighter around Aerion, to keep him warm as the air became colder.

As Dragonstone began to fade into the distance, Vaena steeled herself. She knew that their destination was fraught with its own risks and complications, but it was the only option left.

"To Kings Landing."

Aemond sat in his chambers, the weight of his decisions pressing heavily upon him.

He yearned for his wife and the comfort of her embrace, he missed his son and his sweet little voice.

They were lost to him now, because of what he’d done.

It was his own fault, all his wife had ever done was love him, and he only caused her pain in return.

His own mother had turned on him, his brother was broken and burnt and now his sweet sister refused to look at him.

Manhandling her had been wrong, he knew that now. But he was just so desperate. Their lives were in peril, and he was the only one fighting to save them.

He didn’t know what to do, not anymore.

Then the quiet of the evening was interrupted by the sudden entrance of a guard, who rushed in, his expression one of urgency.

"Your Grace, two large dragons have been spotted flying towards King's Landing!"

Aemond stood abruptly, striding over to the balcony with quick, determined steps.

"Shall we arm the scorpions?" the guard asked, his voice tight with concern.

"No. Stand down," Aemond commanded firmly. His sharp gaze scanned the horizon, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized the familiar silhouette of Cannibal.

He would not have his wife's dragon shot out of the sky. "Send a number of guards to meet my wife and escort her to my chambers immediately."

The guard bowed deeply before hurrying off to carry out his orders. Aemond's eye remained fixed on the sky, watching as Cannibal and Silverwing circled the Red Keep, their roars echoing through the air before they descended to land where Vhagar was resting.

Aemond's mind raced with questions and emotions. Why had Vaena chosen to return and would Aerion be with her?

The last time they had seen each other, the memory of her angry, tear-streaked face haunted him. She had begged him not to go through with usurping the throne, struggling against him as he locked her and Aerion in his chambers.

Since her escape, Aemond had written countless letters, each one a blend of anger, desperation, and declarations of love, none of which he had the courage to send. Those letters now lay forgotten, stuffed in his desk drawer, mere relics of his turmoil.

As he waited for Vaena, Aemond began pacing his chambers, he was more nervous now than he had been on their wedding day and even the bedding.

But a lot had changed since then.

The sound of approaching footsteps and a knock on his door pulled Aemond from his reverie.

"Enter," he said, straightening up, his arms hanging by his sides.

The door opened, and Aemond was greeted with the sweetest of sounds. "Daddy!"

Aerion’s small figure rushed into the room; his little arms outstretched. Aemond caught his son in a tight embrace, lifting him up and holding him close.

"Aerion," Aemond whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he buried his face in his son's hair. The boy's familiar scent brought a rush of warmth and sorrow.

Vaena entered the room behind her son, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of the chasm that had grown between them. Aemond met her eyes, his heart aching with unspoken words.

"You've come back."

Vaena's eyes were wary, her expression a mix of relief and guardedness. "I had no other choice," she replied, her voice steady but laced with tension.

After a few precious moments of holding Aerion close, Aemond reluctantly pulled away. He summoned one of the maids, who appeared promptly at his door.

"Take care of him," Aemond instructed, his voice gentle yet firm. "Ensure that guards are posted inside the room and at the door to protect him."

Aerion looked up at his father, his small hand clutching Aemond's sleeve. "Do I have to go, Daddy?"

Aemond knelt down to his son's level, brushing a strand of silver hair from his face. "I promise, it won’t be for long-I just need to talk to your mother"

Aerion smiled, his reluctance easing. He allowed the maid to take his hand, and she led him into the room across from Aemond's chambers.

Aemond watched until the door shut behind them, his heart heavy.

Turning back to Vaena, he barely had time to register her movement before her fist collided with his nose.

He reeled backward, his hand instinctively going to his face to stem the flow of blood. "That was for Luke," she spat, her eyes blazing with fury.

Before he could recover, she punched him again, this time in the stomach.

Aemond doubled over, dropping to the floor as he wheezed in pain. "-And that was for Rhaenys," she declared, her voice cold and determined.

As he struggled to catch his breath, Vaena knelt in front of him, her expression softening. She took his face in her hands, her touch both tender and firm.

"This is for me," she whispered, before pressing her lips to his in a fierce, desperate kiss.

Aemond's mind swirled with the intensity of her actions, the pain of her blows mixing with the undeniable longing in her kiss. He responded, his hands reaching up to hold her, afraid she might slip away.

The kiss was a collision of anger, love, and regret, a tumultuous expression of the emotions that had built up between them.

When they finally pulled apart, Aemond looked into her eyes, his voice raw with emotion. "Vaena, I-" He struggled to find the words, the weight of his actions pressing heavily on his shoulders.

"Don't," she interrupted, her voice trembling. "Not yet-" tears glistened in her eyes.

Vaena helped Aemond to his feet, guiding him gently to sit on the bed. She inspected his nose with care, her touch both tender and clinical. "It's not broken," she declared, "but it will be sore for a while."

Aemond wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face into her chest and inhaling her familiar scent.

The comfort of her presence washed over him, and he closed his eye, savouring the moment. Vaena stroked his hair gently, but then she abruptly stopped and stepped away.

"Is it true?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Aemond opened his eye, confusion evident. "Is what true?"

Vaena's face contorted with anger and hurt. "Did you visit a brothel on the Streets of Silk?"

Aemond's heart sank. "How do you know about that?" he asked cautiously.

Vaena's eyes filled with tears. "So, it is true? You've bedded another woman? Betrayed our marriage vows?"

Aemond quickly shook his head. "I went to a brothel, yes. I sought comfort from the madam, but I was never intimate with her."

Vaena backed away, shaking her head as tears streamed down her face. Aemond got off the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close despite her resistance.

"Vaena, please," he pleaded. "I never laid with her in that way. After you left with Aerion, after what happened with Luke, I was desperate. My mother was furious with me; she couldn't even look at me. I had no one else to turn to. Going back to Sylvi was wrong, but I couldn't help it. I just wanted to be held by someone who didn't hate me."

Vaena's body trembled in his arms, her tears soaking into his shirt.

Aemond gently cupped Vaena's face, wiping away the remaining tears. "How did you find out?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with concern and curiosity.

Vaena's expression hardened. "Ulf told me."

"Who is Ulf?" Aemond inquired, his brow furrowing.

"He's one of the common folk who claimed Grey Ghost," Vaena replied, her tone dripping with disdain. "He's a wretched cur with no manners, and it disgusts me that my mother has defiled our birthright by allowing commoners to claim dragons."

Aemond's frown deepened. "Who claimed Vermithor?"

"A man named Hugh Hammer," Vaena said, shaking her head in frustration. "My mother was hoping that Silverwing would be claimed too, but Vermithor killed all of the other dragon seeds."

Aemond's eye widened with surprise. "Vermithor killed them?"

Vaena nodded. "Yes, and my mother still wishes for someone to claim Silverwing. But I couldn't allow it. She had promised to let Aerion try to claim her when he was old enough, but she broke that promise."

Aemond's grip tightened on her shoulders, a mixture of anger and determination flickering in his eye. "So, you brought Silverwing with you?"

Vaena nodded again, her expression resolute. "Yes. I convinced Silverwing to come with me to King's Landing. I couldn't let my mother's broken promises endanger Aerion' birthright."

Aemond's gaze softened as he looked at Vaena, a mixture of pride and admiration shining through his concern. "You did the right thing," he said quietly. "You protected our son and our legacy”

Vaena sighed, her tension easing slightly as she leaned into Aemond's embrace. "I just want us to be safe," she whispered. "To find a way to end this madness."

Aemond held her close, his heart swelling with a renewed sense of purpose. "We will find a way," he promised. "Together."

Vaena took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to say next. "There's something else I need to tell you," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Aemond looked at her, his eye narrowing with concern. "What is it?"

"Your mother-she's gone to Dragonstone."

Aemond's expression shifted from concern to anger and shock. "What?"

Vaena continued, her voice steady but filled with tension. "Alicent advocated for the lives of Helaena and Jaehaera in exchange for my mother successfully claiming the Iron Throne without bloodshed. She told her of your plan to travel to Harrenhal to meet Cole and his army. Alicent has arranged for my mother to come to King's Landing in three days. She will command the guards to lay down their weapons and open the gates."

Aemond went ballistic, his fury palpable as he paced the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. "My own mother-betraying us? How could she do this?" He stopped and turned to Vaena, his face twisted with rage. "Did she advocate for anyone else besides Helaena and Jaehaera?"

Vaena shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness. "No. She agreed my mother’s demand to have you and Aegon publicly executed, which will no doubt extend to Daeron as well"

Aemond's face contorted with a mixture of horror and fury. "She has sentenced not just one but all of her sons to death," he spat. "What madness possesses her?"

Vaena stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. "I don't know, Aemond. I was just as shocked as you when I heard it."

Aemond's eye blazed with anger. "She thinks she can protect Helaena and Jaehaera by sacrificing the rest of us? She's lost her mind."

Aemond's shoulders slumped as the weight of the revelations pressed down on him. "I'm alone," he said quietly, his voice filled with despair. "I thought what I was doing was right. It wasn't about the Iron Throne. It was about saving our lives. But after what I've just heard-what's the point? I give up. If my own mother won't even try, why should I? I've got nothing left."

Vaena stepped closer, placing her hands gently on his face, her eyes filled with love and determination. "You're not alone, Aemond. You have me and Aerion. We're your family, and we need you. We could leave Westeros, fly across the Narrow Sea, and get as far away from this war as possible. We could be happy, just the three of us. We could have more children, live in peace. We could be together."

“What if Rhaenyra comes after us?” asked Aemond.

“Then I will do what I must in order to save your life” replied Vaena.

Aemond looked at her, the hopelessness in his eye beginning to soften. "What of my mother-“

"Your mother has sold you and your brothers out," Vaena interrupted, her voice firm. "If my mother takes the Iron Throne, you will die. I don't want you to die, Aemond."

“I deserve it” muttered Aemond.

Vaena's voice broke, and she began to sob, clutching at him desperately. "Please don't leave me," she cried, her tears soaking his shirt. "I don't want you to die. Please, Aemond"

Aemond felt a pang of guilt and sorrow as he held her trembling form. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and burying his face in her hair. "Vaena, I won’t leave you," he whispered, his own voice choked with emotion.

She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "Then let's leave," she said, her voice trembling. "Let's leave all of this behind. We can find a place where we can be happy, where we can raise Aerion in peace. Please, Aemond. Let's go."

Aemond held Vaena close, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she sobbed against his chest. He hushed her gently, his mind reeling with a sudden, profound realization.

What was the point of everything he had done? He had lost his eye, transformed himself into a capable swordsman and dragon rider, studied relentlessly, and attended to his duties with unwavering dedication.

He had strived to be the perfect son, and yet it was all for nothing. Despite always being told that Rhaenyra was the enemy, his mother was now clinging to her skirts, begging for scraps and bending the knee at the cost of her sons' lives.

Vaena was the only one who had ever seen him for who he truly was. She loved him, blessed him with a son, and yet he had done nothing to earn it. He had killed her brother and her grandmother, attacked his own brother at Rook’s Rest, and burned down Sharp Point, watching from the cliffside as people writhed and screamed in agony.

He had done all that, and yet here she was, crying for him, begging for his life, and offering him everything he had ever wanted—a family.

Aemond took a deep breath and gently took Vaena's face in his hands, lifting her tear-streaked gaze to meet his.

"Let's go," he whispered, his voice steady and filled with a newfound determination. "Let's leave it all behind."

Vaena's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she searched his face as if trying to comprehend his words. "You mean it?" she asked, her voice trembling with hope and fear.

Aemond nodded, his grip on her tightening. "Yes, I mean it. We'll leave Westeros. We'll fly across the Narrow Sea and start a new life, just the three of us. We'll find peace and happiness away from this madness."

A sob of relief escaped Vaena's lips, and she threw her arms around his neck, holding him as if she would never let go. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank you, Aemond."

He kissed her forehead tenderly, a sense of calm settling over him. "We'll make it through this," he promised, his voice filled with conviction. "Together."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, Aemond felt a weightlifting from his shoulders. The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope.

They would leave Westeros and all its chaos behind. They would build a new life, far away from the shadows of their past, and they would find happiness together.

"Let's get Aerion-” Vaena said softly, pulling back to look into his eye. "Let's leave tonight."

Aemond nodded, a sense of urgency mingling with his newfound resolve. "Yes, we’ll leave tonight-" he agreed.

As Vaena turned to leave the room, Aemond took hold of her, and pulled her close, kissing her with a fervour that took her breath away

His hands tangled in her hair, and he whispered against her lips, "We will leave but I need you, Vaena. It's been too long since I last felt your touch."

Vaena looked up into his eye, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes," she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Yes, Aemond."

They began pulling at each other's clothes, their urgency growing with each passing second. Aemond's hands trembled as he undid the ties of her riding leathers, and Vaena's fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his tunic. The material fell away, piece by piece, until they stood before each other, bare and exposed.

Aemond's gaze roamed over her body, drinking in the sight of her. He backed her towards the bed, his hands never leaving her skin. "Gods, I've missed you," he murmured, his voice rough with longing.

Vaena reached up, her fingers brushing the scar over his eye, a reminder of the sacrifices they had both made. "I've missed you too," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

As they reached the bed, Aemond lowered her onto the soft sheets, his body covering hers. Their mouths met again in a searing kiss,

Vaena smiled slightly as she hooked her fingers around her own small clothes and slowly pulled them down, Aemond could feel himself salivating as he stared at her cunny.

“Come here-” growled Aemond, as he reached out and tugged Vaena back on the bed.

“Let me take care of you” muttered Vaena as she placed kisses along Aemond jaw and then down his neck, making sure to gently nip and suck his skin as she went.

She carried on moving down, pausing as she reached his chest, she grinned as she took one of his nipples into her mouth, her tongue teasing it before she bit down.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Does issa Jorrāelagon like that?” asked Vaena as she moved across and gave his other nipple the same attention, (My love).

“Oh. Gods” whimpered Aemond as she moved further down his body, her tongue and teeth grazing his pale skin.

When she reached the trail of hair from his belly button down to his cock, she pressed her nose against him and giggled when she felt the hair tickle her skin.

“Kostilus” begged Aemond (Please).

“Ao līs umbagon issa zaldrīzes” replied Vaena (You must wait, my dragon).

Aemond lost his senses the moment Vaena’s warm, wet mouth quickly wrapped around the head of his swollen cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Vaena!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through his wife’s silver hair.

Vaena ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl” moaned Aemond.

Aemond knew it would push the limits of his control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Vaena’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her perfect pink lips stretched around him.

“I’m not going to last if you carry on” Aemond admitted, though it pained him to do so.

Vaena smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth. 

“It feels so good-that’s it” groaned Aemond.

Vaena responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of her husband’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand cupped his stones.

“Shit-Vaena. I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

His wife took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Vaena’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking husband?” asked Vaena.

“Y-Yes. Now get up here and ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond.

“But your nose” whispered Vaena concerned.

“I don’t care-get up here-now” ordered Aemond, his cock already twitching with interest.

Vaena hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty cunny" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Vaena’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it Issa dōna. Let me hear you” (My sweet).

“YES. It feels so good” whimpered Vaena.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

“Ooooh A-Aemond-just like that” shrieked Vaena.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaena, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaena "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh" whimpered Vaena; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against him.

“That’s it, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond, his cock was so hard that it was boarding on painful.

Vaena was giving off a slew of loud swear words, moans, and pleas, that anyone passing his chambers would surely hear.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me baby, come for daddy” moaned Aemond.

Finally, he felt Vaena’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Vaena’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife’s centre as she came.

After a few minutes, Aemond gently urged his wife to move down, so she was hovering above his cock.

Her hand wrapped around him, running the head of his cock along her warm wet folds.

“Your such a tease” moaned Aemond as his hips jerked involuntarily.

“But it feels so good” replied Vaena as she slowly moved down on his cock, so only the tip of him was inside her.

“P-Please” whimpered Aemond.

“Uh-uh” said Vaena shaking her head from side to side.

After a few minutes Aemond couldn’t take it anymore and seized his wife’s hips, before surging up and ploughing his hard cock into her soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" screamed Vaena.

"Gods. You feel so good-missed you-" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Vaena, her tone bordering on desperate as she rolled her hips against his.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

“P-Please. Husband” whined Vaena as Aemond began teasing her pearl with his thumb.

“That’s it-take all of me”

“OH-MY-“ shrieked Vaena Aemond began to move.

"Faster, please" begged Vaena.

“Like this?” replied Aemond as he gave a quick deep thrust.

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Vaena.

Her hands ran along his arms, over his shoulders and down his chest, digging her nails into his pale skin.

“Gods, Vaena" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond" whispered Vaena "Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me, filling me up. Give me what I need. Give me your seed. I want it”.

Aemond knew exactly what Vaena was doing, and he couldn’t help himself.

Vaena wanted faster and he was going much faster now, his feet planted on the bed to give him more leverage and his pace increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips as he pounded into her.

“Aemond-I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaena; not caring if anyone could hear them.

Vaena always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her amethyst eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond then withdrew, ignoring Vaena’s whimper of protest as he rolled her onto her back and quickly sheathed himself inside her again.

She wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, drawing him closer as he began to thrust inside her, his cock reaching deep inside.

“I-I’m going to give you my seed-” moaned Aemond.

“Yes-oh don’t stop-please Aemond” whined Vaena.

“I’m going to put another babe in you-See you full of milk-”

“Y-Yes A-Aemond-I want another. Give it to me” whined Vaena.

That, combined with how glorious Vaena felt, pushed Aemond over the edge, the heat shooting across his abdomen.

“-I love you-love you so fucking much-my wife-don’t leave me again” babbled Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he spilled his seed inside his wife’s wet heat.

After they had got dressed Aemond and Vaena worked quickly, their movements synchronized as they made the necessary preparations to leave. The tension and urgency of their situation lent them a sense of purpose and determination.

As they packed, Vaena presented Aemond with the bag containing Silverwing’s eggs.

“What do you want to do with these?” she asked, her eyes reflecting both the gravity of their situation and the love she had for him.

Aemond took the bag and laughed softly. “You truly are something special,” he murmured, marvelling at her brazenness not only had she absconded with a dragon that wasn’t hers, but three eggs as well “They need to be kept warm and safe.”

Vaena nodded, carefully wrapping the eggs back up. “We’ll protect them,” she promised.

Aemond then mentioned his plan to raid the treasury. “Most of the crown’s wealth has been divided and hidden, but whatever is left should be more than enough for us,” he said.

He left for the treasury, returning a short while later with a sack full of coins, along with some of his mother’s jewellery he had managed to steal, and a necklace that was pressed into his hands by Helaena who bid him farewell, he apologised to her for how he acted, but she simply smiled and told him that the eye of the gods was closed to him now.

He packed his weapons and anything else of value from his chambers.

Their dragons were large enough to carry what they needed, and they prepared Aerion for the journey, making sure he had something to eat and was well wrapped up.

They told him they were going on an adventure, and his face lit up with excitement.

Aemond then left the guards with simple instructions: “Guard the Red Keep until the Dowager Queen returns.”

After gathering all their bags and ensuring the ancient sword Blackfyre was securely attached to his waist, Aemond took Aerion’s hand, and the three of them made their way to the dragons.

Aerion eagerly wanted to fly with his father, and as they strapped themselves into the saddles, Aemond took one last look at the Red Keep, its imposing towers silhouetted against the sky. The only home he’d ever known was now lost to him, instead of sadness he felt a strange sense of relief, that finally for the first time in a long time, he could choose his own path, he could forge his own destiny.

He checked one last time that Aerion was secured safely in front of him and then he took a deep breath.

“Sōvēs” he commanded Vhagar, his voice steady and resolute (Fly).

Vhagar spread her massive wings and ascended into the clouds. Moments later, she was joined by Cannibal and Silverwing. The three dragons soaring together, leaving King’s Landing and everything else behind.

Alicent returned to the Red Keep from her meeting with Rhaenyra, her heart heavy with the weight of her decisions. She felt overwhelmed and heartbroken. The image of Rhaenyra’s cold determination haunted her, and the reality of what she had agreed to gnawed at her soul.

In three days, she would open the gates, command the guards to lower their weapons, and surrender the city to Rhaenyra.

Sacrifices would need to be made to regain peace, but she would be steadfast and see an end to this ceaseless war.

Upon reaching her chambers, Alicent immediately poured herself a cup of wine. She downed its contents in one gulp, hoping the liquid courage would steel her for the days to come.

She needed to appear as she always had done—composed, resolute, unwavering. But the turmoil inside her was relentless.

As the wine settled in her stomach, Alicent allowed herself a brief moment of vulnerability. She sank into a chair, the enormity of her decision washing over her. She had betrayed her own sons for the sake of peace.

Aemond would shortly be leaving for Harrenhal, unaware of the treachery she had committed. Aegon was broken beyond recognition, and both were to be sacrificed for the greater good.

She had chosen the lives of her daughter Helaena and granddaughter Jaehaera over the rest of her family, and the weight of that choice threatened to crush her.

Alicent’s mind raced with thoughts of Aemond. He had always been her strongest, her most determined child. She had seen his ambition and his anger and now she was about to betray him.

The pain of it was almost too much to bear, but she knew she had to. She had to put an end to the bloodshed, to the war that had torn their family and the realm apart.

She stood up, straightening her spine, and took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to show weakness. She needed to be strong, for the sake of the realm, for the sake of those she loved. She brushed away the tears that threatened to fall and steeled herself for what she must now do.

Alicent walked to the looking glass and assessed her reflection. She adjusted her gown, smoothed her hair, and ensured her expression was one of calm determination.

She could not waver. The realm needed her to be strong, to be the Queen they had always known. With one final deep breath, she turned away and left her chambers, ready to face the consequences of her actions and the role she must play in the days to come.

She would not waver. She could not waver. The future of the realm depended on it.

Alicent approached Aemond's chambers, noticing with a sense of unease that there were no guards stationed outside. The absence was peculiar and unsettling.

She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. For a moment, she considered walking away, but a feeling of urgency pushed her to act. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, calling out to Aemond.

But only silence greeted her.

Stepping inside, she glanced around the room. The wardrobe door stood ajar, drawing her attention. She walked over to it, intending to close it, but stopped short when she saw that it was empty.

A sinking feeling grew in her stomach as she moved to the drawers, pulling them open one by one, each revealing the same emptiness.

As she stood there, her foot brushed against something small on the floor. Bending down, she picked up a wooden dragon figurine, instantly recognizing it as belonging to her grandson, Aerion.

Just then, a maid entered the room. Alicent turned to her, a mixture of desperation and anger in her eyes.

"Where is the Prince Regent?" she demanded.

The maid looked at her calmly and simply replied, "Gone."

Alicent's heart raced. "What do you mean, gone?"

The maid explained, "The Prince Regent left the Red Keep some time ago in the company of Princess Vaena and their son, Prince Aerion."

Alicent was baffled by the maid’s admission. Instead of questioning her further, she turned and swiftly left the room, her mind reeling. She needed answers, and she knew where to find them.

She hurried to the council chambers, hoping to find someone who could shed light on what was happening. As she entered, she found only Jasper Wylde and Maester Orwyle engaged in quiet discussion.

"Where is Aemond?" she demanded, her voice sharp with anxiety.

Both Jasper and Orwyle looked up, surprised by her sudden entrance.

"Your Grace, we have just received word that the Prince Regent has left the Red Keep. We were about to send for you."

"Left?" Alicent echoed, feeling a mix of relief and fear. "Where has he gone? Why?"

Jasper cleared his throat. "Princess Vaena arrived earlier today and spent several hours with the Prince Regent in his chambers. It seems that after their time together, they departed from the Red Keep with their son”.

“T-To Harrenhal?” asked Alicent.

“No. Your Grace. His dragon was last spotted flying over the Kings Wood”

Alicent's mind raced, trying to piece together the implications. She could have sworn she had seen Vaena lurking on Dragonstone.

Then a  thought struck her like a blow—what if Vaena had overheard her conversation with Rhaenyra and had immediately flown to the Red Keep to warn Aemond?

Without another word, Alicent left the council chambers and hurried to see Helaena. She found her daughter sitting quietly in her room, gazing out of the window.

"Helaena-" Alicent asked urgently, "Have you seen Aemond?"

Slowly Helaena turned to her mother; her expression serene. "He has gone and taken his heart with him"

Alicent felt a pang of despair “He cannot just leave. H-He has d-duties to attend”

“Duties which no longer hold meaning” whispered Helaena, as she held out a scrap of parchment.

“W-What is this”

“He asked me to give it to you” replied Helaena softly.

‘Alicent,

I know of your treachery and your willingness to sacrifice the lives of your sons in favour of the pretender. For years now, I have suffered the indignity of being the second son and have been unwavering in my duty, but it was never good enough for you or Father.

I tried my best to keep us alive, but it seems my efforts are all for nothing. I have abandoned the throne, just as you have abandoned your sons, and I will no longer fight to save the undeserving.

My wife and son are all that matter to me now, and my future lies with them. I hope your efforts to secure the throne for your beloved Rhaenyra are worth it. Maybe now you can mourn me, Mother. I lost you, but I have gained so much more in doing so. At last, I am finally free.

Aemond’

Alicent collapsed into a chair and sat staring into the flames, Aemond's note clutched tightly in her trembling hands. The weight of what she had done settled heavily on her shoulders.

She had made arrangements with Rhaenyra, hoping to secure a fragile peace by offering the lives of her sons.

But now, Aemond had abandoned King's Landing, and her carefully laid plans were in ruins.

What would happen now? Rhaenyra would come, as promised, to take King's Landing. She would discover that Aemond had fled, and would accuse Alicent of aiding in his escape.

Alicent's heart pounded as she considered the consequences. Aemond was responsible for the death of Rhaenyra's son, and there was no way she would allow him to live his life free from the consequences of his actions. Not with her own daughter, Vaena, standing by his side.

Alicent felt a surge of panic. She had underestimated Rhaenyra's resolve and overestimated her ability to control the situation. The absurdity of her plan now struck her with full force.

She had hoped to protect her family by betraying her sons, but in the end, she had driven Aemond away and left herself vulnerable to Rhaenyra's wrath.

She rose from the chair and began pacing the room, her mind racing. She needed to think, to find a way to salvage the situation.

But what could she do? Aemond was gone, Vaena and Aerion with him. She had no leverage, no cards left to play.

Her thoughts turned to Helaena and Jaehaera. She had advocated for their lives, hoping to secure their safety. But now, with Aemond's departure, would Rhaenyra honour that agreement? Or would she see it as another betrayal?

As she pondered her next move, a sense of resignation washed over her. She had fought for so long, schemed and plotted to keep her family safe. But now, she realized, there was no way to win. The game was over, and she had lost.

All she could do now was try to minimize the damage and hope that, somehow, her children would survive the storm that was about to descend upon them.

Epilogue.

[rushtoprove]

the things we do for love

summary: Aemma Velaryon is the daughter of the Princess Rhaenyra and betrothed to Aemond Targaryen. Their young love blinds them to the bitterness between their families, but slowly their fantasy begins to unravel with time. How did the purest of love turn into such bitter hatred?

4. the unravelling of our youth Aemma knew the final tie to her girlhood needed to be severed. She knew she had to leave Aemond in her past. 

word count: 4294

warnings: mention of gore and violence. the final chapter of young aemond and aemma.

masterlist

As Aemma watched Aemond getting carried quickly through the castle, her heart seized up. Her entire body was quivering in shock and her breath was caught in her throat, unable to escape. She did not know how the blade she clutched so feverishly in her hand ended up tearing through the tender flesh of her best friend but she definitely knew she would never forgive herself. The haunting sound of his wails seemed to echo as they rushed ahead and Aemma had to be half carried, half dragged along to follow. She was moaning Aemond’s name in a daze but no one had a chance to comfort the young princess as they needed to get to the maester quickly. 

“Aemma?” Luke was softly crying as he watched his big sister be tugged by a guard towards the central room of Driftmark’s most ancient castle. He could not bear to see the mess his sister was and the adrenaline and fear of the fight that had just taken placed weighed heavy on all the young children. He tried to reach for her but slipped on the blood coating the stone floors. It seemed Aemond’s wounded face would never stop bleeding. 

“Come Luke. It will be alright.” Jace tried to be strong for his brother but his face was also coated in a mixture of blood, sweat and tears. Baela and Rhaena clutched each other as they followed along, their uncontrollable sobs echoing of the walls. 

“Call for the King and Queen! The Princess and her husband too!” Lord Harrold ordered guards around the room as placed the young prince to sit on an empty chair. He let his hand leave Aemond’s face for the maester to view but Aemma, unhinged by the events that had taken place, screamed louder than any thought possible. 

“DO NOT MOVE!” She quickly shook herself free from whatever guard held her and stumbled forward. Tripping down, she knelt before her young love and cupped his face, desperate to keep everything where it was meant to be. 

“Princess Aemma he must be attended to.” They both tried to beg but she would let neither of the men near. 

“No! You have to hold it! His eye! It... I don’t want it to fall out!” Aemma could barely speak through her tears. Aemond, now almost dazed from the pain, reached out and pushed the hair from her eyes. He managed the smallest glimpse of a smile as he looked down at her tear-streaked face.  

“Let them look. Come and sit by myside.” He mumbled numbly and tugged her hand to the left. Now that she was on the ground, Aemma could not get up so she had to crawl to be beside him. Her sobbing did not stop once and when she gazed up, the sight of his torn eye socket made her sobs turn to wails. Aemond simply placed his hand on her head and closed his eyes.  

“The wound is deep. I will need to work fast” The maester muttered to Harrold before reaching into his bag. He pulled out a tiny vile of milk of the poppy and held it to Aemond’s cracked lips. “My lord this will ease the pain. Drink quick.”  

“So much pain.” Aemond moaned before letting his head fall back and both men quickly pulled him forward. The vile was forced down his throat before the work hurriedly began. Aemma could not bear to watch the needle sow him back together so instead she rested her head into his thigh and cried. 

“I’m sorry my love. I’m so sorry.” She repeated the words like a prayer but Aemond had long since disassociated, leaving her weeping to the audience of her siblings and cousins. It was all that was heard until Queen Alicent burst into the room. 

“My son!” She cried out as she ran across the room. It seemed a whole audience followed the King and Queen, including a confused Aegon who stumbled in hazily and Aemma’s grandparents Corlys and Rhaenys who instantly rushed to her cousin’s aid. Alicent only cared to be near her son and paid little attention as she ripped Aemma from Aemond’s side and threw her to the ground. The small girl was still dizzy from her smacking the stone wall during the fight and the sudden movement sent a wave of nausea over her.  

“Come niece.” She was grateful Aegon was gentle as he lifted her to stand, and he held her waist lightly to stop her from tipping over. Time seemed to slow, yet somehow move quicker, and it was not until Aemma’s lady mother burst through the door and swept her into a tight hug, that Aemma seemed to come back to her reality.  

“Mumma.” She wept into her Rhaenyra’s arms and hoped that the usual warmth from her mother’s hugs would wash away the cold chill that Aemma could not seem to shake. It was, however, unsuccessful and Aemma let her hands fall in despair. When her mother pulled back to find her brother’s and check over their injuries, she finally looked towards Aemond. 

Aemond who she had grown up with and planned her future with. Aemond who had chased her around the castle walls, and who had recited his favourite poems quietly under their special oak tree in the gardens. Aemond who had learnt the language of their ancestors so that he could whisper little jokes about those around them without their understanding. Aemond who had known every like and dislike that his best friend had. Aemond who had stolen her first kiss.  

Aemond who had his eye taken by his Aemma.   

He stared back at her.  

“Who did this!?” Alicent and Rhaenyra ordered at the same time.  

“They attacked me!” 

 “He attacked Baela!”  

“He broke Luke's nose!”  

“He stole my mother's dragon!” There were too many voices screaming at once making Aemma cradle her ears and force her eyes closed. Her mother pulled her towards her and cradled her tiny body as she continued to shout against Alicent. Aemma felt a comforting hand placed on her shoulder and turned to see her darling grandfather looking worriedly over her shaking body.  

“I need my father.” Aemma cried quietly and Corlys nodded in understanding. 

“I have sent for him little one. Do not worry.” 

“Who sliced his eye!?” Alicent screamed as the room fell to a sudden silence. The room was spinning as all the eyes turned to the young princess. Aemma turned desperately to her mother, shaking her head and silently begging her to understand. She did not mean to take his eye. She would never do that to Aemond. 

“She did not mean it.” Luke whispered, trying to defend his sister. She looked up to meet the eyes of the entire room. Then she turned to once again look at Aemond. He stared blankly at her face, as if he did not recognise her.  

She threw up down the front of her dress, sobbing through each retch.  

“She will never be anywhere my children again! Any thought of an engagement is ended.” Alicent looked at the girl in disgust as her mother tried to move her hair from the sick. She was delicate with her daughter, and was pained by the state of her. She had never seen someone look so fragile. 

“She is a child.” 

“AS IS HE! HE HAS LOST AN EYE AT THE HANDS OF YOUR DAUGHTER! SHE IS A SAVAGE!” Alicent screamed making Aemma sicker. She heard Aegon trying desperately to hold in his own vomit at the sight. 

“Gross!” He moaned, turning to face the fire. Alicent stared at her oldest son in hatred. Marching forward, she raised her hand and swiftly slapped the boy across the face. 

“Where were you?” She spat. Aegon stayed quiet and Aemma saw him sombrely try to fight back tears. 

“Aemond... I will have the truth of what happened! Now!” Viserys moved to the centre of the room as it yet again fell silent and Aemma cried as she tried to clean herself from her own sick. 

“What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed! Her son is responsible!” Alicent could not hide the disbelief she held as her husband seemed not to care for his mutilated son. Aemond did not seem interested in the unfolding scene and instead watched as Aemma stood helplessly in her own vomit. Even after everything, his heart ached at the sight of his best friend standing there so hopelessly.  

“It was a regrettable accident.” 

“Accident? The Princess Aemma brought a blade to the ambush. She meant to kill my son!” Aemma let out a cry of dispute but her mother pushed her daughter to stand behind her. 

“It was my children who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them.” Was that enough to warrant the loss of Aemond’s eye? Definitely not! Aemma cried at the argument and could not help but stumble forward, trying to get back to him. The arguing between their parents seemed to get more vicious, but Aemond simply held out his hand for Aemma to reach for.  

 “Do not more any further you wretched little creature! I shall have your eye in return! A debt is to be paid!” Alicent leapt forward and Aemma quickly jumped back with a cry. Aemond jumped to his feet and watched as Aemma stumbled and fell to the ground.  

“Mother!” He cried out but the Maester was quick to pull him back down into his chair. It was Aegon who slid forward and blocked his mother’s view from his niece. He tried not to focus on the betrayal sketched onto Alicent’s face. Instead, he reached down to pull Aemma up and gently shoved her into Corlys’s awaiting arms. He would always hold a soft spot for his little niece, who’s fierce but gentle nature was something Aegon desperately wished he could copy. 

“My dear wife.” Visery’s could not hide his shock at his wife’s cruel disciplinary tactic but Alicent was focused only on Aemma, who had never been more scared than she was in this very moment.  

“She can choose which eye to keep, a privilege she did not grant my son.” 

“Mother do not dare!” Aemond’s order was delivered with a great amount of conviction, it was a shame no one was listening.  

“Ser Criston... bring me the eye of Aemma Velaryon!” 

“You will do no such thing.” Rhaenyra was petrified for her daughter as she moved quickly to defend her first born. She could not bear the thought of anything happening to her little girl and she would not Alicent nor Criston get close. Daemon stood to the side of the room thinking the very same thing. 

“Stay your hand.”  

“No, you are sworn to me!” Alicent was broken now as she wept to her sworn shield. Her son had lost an eye and it seemed she was the only one to care for such a heinous crime. Her youngest son, her delight, the child she loved the most, she would defend him to the ends of the realm. Grabbing the handle of her husband’s dagger, Alicent only focused on little Aemma, and she felt a sickening delight at the cries of terror that left her little lungs. Perhaps they were just as loud as her son’s when his eye was torn from his face. 

Aemma felt her mother push her backwards as Corlys and Rhaenys both protectively pulled the small girl into their defensive bodies. Neither would let any harm befall their granddaughter and the mother would not let anything touch her daughter. Aemma wailed as she watched her mother wrestle Alicent, and when she saw the shine of the blade as it was sliced down upon her mother, Aemma fell completely silent. It was as if she was no longer in the room. No, she found herself back in the tunnels and all she could see was Aemond looking at her through his bloody face, weeping at the sight of her standing over his shaking body. 

“Come my love.” It wasn’t until her mother wrapped her tender fingers around Aemma’s shuddering hands that Aemma was back standing before the audience of her family. She quickly reached to cover her mother’s wound and they lay their foreheads against one another. 

“I am okay.” Turning to face the Queen, Aemma saw the entire room staring at Alicent. She couldn’t help but wonder what the older woman was thinking behind her horrified gaze and watched the blade fall from beneath her quivering fingers. 

“Do not mourn me, Mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... and my closest friend... but I gained a dragon.” Aemond slowly lifted himself so that he could cradle his broken mother, and stared blankly at Aemma. He tried to take her all in, but all he could see was her arm extended towards him and the glint of the knife in her hand. He shuddered at the thought. He could not, however, watch her cry any further because his heart seemed to be the most aching part of his broken body. 

  +++ 

Aemma had laid in bed but she could not find sleep. She knew the moment she closed her eyes she would relive the horror once again. Awake, she still could not shake the trauma. Her father Laenor had sat at the fire beside her bed trying to comfort her as she rested, but instead they had held onto one another’s hands tightly and cried. He mourned for his sister and wept for his daughter. Aemma ached for Aemond, prayed it all a horrible nightmare that she would wake up from. She yearned to awaken to find him waiting beneath her window, waving a book and pointing for her to meet him at the tree. 

“I wish I was a better father to you Aemma.” Laenor rested his head on the bed after he moved his chair to sit beside his distraught daughter. 

“You are the best father in this realm.” Aemma promised him. Their moments together throughout Aemma’s life were always fleeting, but the impact would be long-lasting on Aemma. Their quiet reminiscing on his sister and her best friend was quickly bought to an end when Rhaenyra and Daemon were announced into the room. Aemma tried to hide her head in her father’s hands, but she knew that this meeting was a moment in time that she could not turn away from. 

“I wish you rested more.” Her mother brushed Aemma’s tangled hair away from her pale face, and sighed at the dark circles beneath Aemma’s bright blue eyes. Daemon dragged a chair to sit beside Laenor and Aemma recognised the sadness in Laenor’s face. 

“What is it?” She whispered, holding tightly onto his hand. Taking in a deep breath, he squeezed and gazed defeatedly at his daughter. Because even though he knew Aemma was not of his blood, she was his darling daughter. 

“We... A plan has been made my child.” Her other hand was held by her mother and Aemma quickly sat to attention. She was sick of plans and schemes. She wanted to run. To flee this building and tug Aemond along with her. They were fools for not flying away when they visited their secret island. Aemma was the fool. Aemond was committed to leaving everything for her. 

Aemma did not think she had any tears to cry, but when she heard of the plan she wept like a baby. Her father, her darling Laenor, was to leave. He was to leave this family, this reality, and sail the oceans to live a life of anonymity. Aemma would have to fake her despair as news would come of his violent death. She would not witness his quick escape, but she would have to believe that he would make it to a tiny boat in disguise and row towards oblivion. She would never hear from her loving father again.  He was not strong enough to protect this family he had wept. He would see the world and he would leave Daemon to become the protector his children so desperately needed.  

“You must care for my parents Aemma. They will lose their only remaining child. They will be alone but they cannot know. My father will not understand me turning my back on duty. On his bloodline.” Aemma cradled Laenor when he wept for his parents. She wanted to curse him for abandoning her, but deep down, she knew the survival of her dear brothers, of her mother, of herself, were dependent on how these next twenty-four hours were executed.  

“I have made sure Laenor will survive Aemma. I promise you he will be safe.” Daemon held his heart as he swore the oath. Daemon looked at the girl with such passion and devotion to their cause that Aemma understood why the future union with her mother was to take place. He was the key to keeping everything intact. He would know no boundaries when it came to protecting this cause. 

“Why are you all telling me this? Have you told my brothers?” Aemma could not understand why the burden was on her shoulders. All she wanted was to be alone, not centralized in her family’s scheming. Her heart raced and she stared between each face.  

“You are my heir Aemma. You are a lady now and you are old enough to learn what it is to be in our position. After... Aemma after you maiming Aemond, you have brought the wrath of the Hightower’s on yourself. I need you to understand so you are safer from their threat. I need you to be strong during this time. Your life is about to become a tough battle, and you will realise that you can trust no one. No one but us. We need to keep together. We are safest when we are together. Nothing will tear us down.” Rhaenyra had held her daughter in comfort but Aemma understood clearly. Her days of girlhood were gone. She had no choice but to grow up. She was to become the heir to everything. She was to be coached and shaped into a leader. It was a journey she would have to take alone. 

Aemma would do it. For her family. But she had one condition. 

“I want to stay with Lord Corlys and Lady Rhaenys. If they think you have plotted my father’s murder, they will turn on you. Leave me here to be by their side. Let me keep them on our side. Corlys can train me in the way he leads his armies. He can teach me how to stand tall in front of my people.” She loved her grandparents, and she was happy to stay, but Aemma was running. They were not the reason she wanted to stay. She was running from the one person she knew she could no longer love.  

“You will not see Aemond for a very long time.” Laenor patted down her hair and Aemma slowly nodded in understanding. 

“And he must never know our secrets Aemma.” Her mother had added. She nodded again. No words were left in her body. She understood. 

 It was her family against his. 

+++ 

After Laenor’s corpse was bought forward, and after Aemma had comforted her grandparents while weeping for the loss of her father, she climbed the stairs. Aemond had been too delicate to transport but it was his final day before his family flew back to King’s Landing. The two families had avoided one another like the plague, but Aemma knew that if she did not say goodbye, she would regret it for eternity. It was a struggle to sneak around the guards posted at his door, and she was not entirely sure how she managed it, but Aemond had watched in disbelief as she slid into his chamber’s. He had just been praying to see her face once more. His mother had made him promise to stay away from her, but he needed to see her one last time. 

“You.” He was at a loss for words and by the looks of her downwards gaze, so was she. 

“Prince Aemond.” She curtsied. A long silence took over as they simply stared at one another in longing. They had both ached to be together again, but both had been lectured by their families on what their future held, and the importance of keeping their kin safe. 

“I hear the cuckold Laenor Velayron is dead. Now you are a bastard and father less.” Aemond sneered. Aemma simply bowed her head and simply nodded. 

“My dear father was murdered yes. Probably by some brutes your mother hired I don’t doubt.” Aemma knew it vital to play along in this game of charades. She knew she had to mourn Laenor, and she was, for he would never return to her again. 

“First Harwin Strong and now Laenor! I fear for my Uncle Daemon, who knows what will come of him getting so close to your bitch of a mother.” 

“Such big words for a child bedridden at the hands of a little girl.” Aemma scoffed. Aemond was stumped by her words. He was so used to her defending him against others, and it pained him that she was now the one to insult him.  

“I am leaving soon. Why have you come to pester me? You gloat of your wretchedness? You are proud of what you have done to me?” 

“I have come to bid you farewell.” Aemma moved to sit beside Aemond and he automatically reached for her arm. She squeezed his hand in comfort. It would be hard for the two children to overcome their habits. But it was necessary.  

“I shall be forced to see you in our dragon riding lessons in but two days. Then I shall show you all the true nature of riding a dragon.” He was prideful and Aemma felt her heart lurch. She would miss that. 

“I do not think Vhagar shall fit in the Dragonpit Aemond.”  

“She won’t. But I will find a way to join you. You shall be shadowed by the largest dragon in the realm. 

“Aegon will.” Aemma nodded as she stared at his bruised hands. She ran her thumb over the swelling, then placed pressure, making him flinch. “But I will not.” 

“What do you mean?” He growled. He wanted her to know he was angry. That he was betrayed. That the loss of his eyes was nothing compared to the hurt of having his dearest love turn on him so quickly. But Aemond, deep down, was scared. He was frightened because he knew what Aemma was about to say and the prospect of her leaving his side was nothing short of his worst nightmare. 

“I am to stay in Driftmark with my grandparents. I am to learn how to command fleets, and run armies. I am to train for when it is my time to take the Iron Throne. And you shall go back to your dull castle, riddled with liars and backstabbers, and you are going to play pretend. Your family are going to convince the realm that when the time comes, you shall be the undefeated. But none of you shall have seen conflict. Nor will you have seen the reality of what it costs. But I shall be prepared, dear Aemond. I shall be prepared and I shall take pleasure in destroying your family.” Every word felt like acid in her mouth, but Aemma knew what needed to be done. She knew the final tie to her girlhood needed to be severed. She knew she had to leave Aemond in her past. 

“You will leave me?” It is all he managed to say. He wanted to threaten her back, to defend his family, but he was helpless at the idea of losing the most important thing in the world. 

“Yes, dear Aemond, and I do not know how I shall survive being without you.” Aemma cupped his cheek and sadly smiled. “I have spent so long by your side. I do not know who I shall be without you.” Aemond felt the exact same way. 

“Then do not abandon me! Fuck our families! Let us...” Aemond wanted to say flea but the vivid flash of his mother using all her strength to defend him stopped the betrayal to her. He would never leave his mother’s side now that he saw the protection she gave. He owed her a debt, and he intended to fill it. 

Aemma placed her lips to his cheek, understanding the conflict that was drowning him. It was drowning her too. 

“Goodbye sweet Aemond. I shall listen for news of you. I shall... I shall miss the love I once had for you.” Have. 

“If you walk out that door Aemma I shall never forgive you. I will never want to see you again. If you leave me, I will spend the rest of my days hating you! I will curse you until the day I die! I will take your eye! I will make sure your debt is paid!” He sat up as he watched his friend move to the door and felt hope as her hand hovered over the handle. The tidal waves of emotions made him sick. He was so angry, but he was desperate for his friend. If Aemma turned back, he would know she could not leave him. He would know she could be convinced to join his family. She would not leave him. 

“If I see you again Aemond, and you pose any threat to my family, I shall tear out your other eye with my bare hands.” 

taglist: @solacestyles @lugiastark @ramielll @curiouser-an-curiouser @takemetotheweirdness @imoticon @ladymoon666

so crazy i have a taglist it's nice to know people are interested! thank you!!

[eohachu]

writers will ask "whose death would be devastating yet still somehow acceptable within the narrative" and directly point at my favourite guy

[sfaghetti]

oh just finished bara no konrei and I think this is how the plot goes ? do correct me if I'm wrong with anything I'm just trying to put together my thoughts here. anyways plot summarized/explained:

btw I'll use she/her for Mana's character for easier distinction since all characters other than Cecil r men and Mana's can be interpreted as either a man or a woman, so. also Dracula is played by Yu~ki.

Klaha and Cecil are engaged and due to marry in a week but Dracula sends Klaha a letter saying he wants to purchase a manor and is asking for advice, Klaha agrees to go visit him and has to postpone the wedding by another week making Cecil very upset, but she agrees as long as he does arrive in time like he promised. while he's at Dracula's mansion, she has dreams of a vampire coming for her and her staying with him. she goes to church to confess her dreams to the nun who is Mana and Mana tells her to pray.

meanwhile at the mansion, Klaha sees a painting of a woman that sticks out to him due to her resemblance to Cecil, Dracula realizes that he's looking at the painting and says that it's his late wife. later, during dinner, Dracula sees Klaha's locket with a picture of Cecil. after they dine he sends Klaha off to his room to sleep and here is where Klaha dreams of women (who seem to be other vampires) who touch him all over while he's tied to a cross.

while Klaha sleeps Közi, who is a vampire, keeps drinking the blood out of human women, until he arrives to Cecil's room where he is stopped by Mana who tells him that he cannot touch Cecil for she's meant to be Dracula's virgin bride. Közi asks her why she's doing all this for Dracula, she says that it's because Dracula saved her life and then it goes to a flashback where we can see Mana inside the church then all of the sudden Közi opens the door and warns her that they're coming for her, a crowd appears and they forcibly take Mana while holding Közi back.

the crowd brings Mana to the stake and burns her while Közi can only watch, for what it seems she didn't truly die at the stake and got saved by Dracula by being turned into a vampire as well. we're back to the present and Közi asks her why she's still living as undead when her revenge has been fulfilled and she says that it's to keep the faith of those who believe in God, this could probably mean that despite being a living dead she's still catholic? since she seemingly stays with her role of a nun. Közi leaves and then she sits on Cecil's bed.

while this was going on Klaha wakes up and realizes he's been asleep for far too long, he walks out of the room and sees that now the painting of Dracula's late wife has "Cecil" written over it. he rushes out to go back home.

by this time Dracula was on his way to where Cecil lives. before arriving Dracula went on drinking the blood of the people that Mana brought to him to regain his youth. at the same time, Cecil receives another letter, which wasn't written by Klaha, telling her that he's gonna take another week because he'll have to teach Dracula the customs of the people that live there.

Dracula and Cecil finally meet up and after their first meeting he goes to her room and turns her into a vampire. Klaha arrives and finds Cecil already turned, and he arranges for an exorcism to be performed to save her.

during the exorcism Dracula arrives and breaks the ropes that were holding back Cecil, he kills everyone in the room except Cecil and Klaha, embracing her once he's done. Klaha picks up a knife/dagger to stab him but Dracula disappears with Cecil before he's able to.

after Dracula disappears Közi manifests himself in the same room and tells Klaha that he's not here to hurt him but to help him. he tells Klaha where he can find Dracula and asks him if he believes in god, as to which Klaha says he does. Közi tells him that it's harder to kill a vampire the more religious you are. maybe a reference back to Mana staying religious despite being a vampire/being devoted to one? Klaha asks him why he's helping him and Közi says that it's to defend his territory, Klaha thanks him and leaves.

next we see Cecil being laid on a table with Mana and Dracula at her side. Dracula slits his own wrist so that Cecil can drink from him and this is when Klaha arrives. he tries to engage in a fight with Dracula but Dracula quickly overpowers him. when Dracula is about to kill him Közi arrives and saves him and gets into a fight with Dracula. by the end of the fight Közi kills himself for some reason? might have been because he realized he couldn't defeat Dracula and he'd rather go out on his own. he doesn't fully succeed in his suicide and while bleeding out he asks Klaha to finish him, which he does.

Klaha goes to Cecil, but then she opens her mouth and he realizes that she's a vampire now. Mana (who had also gotten in the middle of the fight between Közi and Dracula) tells Klaha that Cecil must die then she falls to the ground. Klaha tries to stab Cecil but Dracula gets between them protecting her. Dracula offers her his blood to drink and while she's drinking Klaha takes this chance to stab him and finally kill him. after he's done with Dracula he stabs her also and she falls to the ground. he's about to finish her off but instead he slits his hand to feed her and she holds him close. next shot is of them waking up together with wedding clothes on, he picks her up and they walk out together.

did they both die and it was them in the afterlife? did they both become vampires? was it just a near-death hallucination? not sure but either way it was really enjoyable

would love to have seen it in black and white though

[queer-ragnelle]

So, regarding your novels, what made you write backwards? I'm so curious about it.

TL;DR I started writing in Mordred and Galahad perspective. I then became possessed by the "older" characters and went "back" in the timeline to write their origins (starting with parentified Agravaine). I did this several times until I ended up with Ragnelle/Gawain as book 1, "the beginning," of what turned into an Epic many books long.

Let me give you a timeline...

1900s: I am born and develop Arthurian brain worms.

21st century: The worms declare Ragnelle/Gawain are my favorites and I write their Wedding multiple times for fun based off what can be gleaned from Wikipedia and retellings as I have no medieval resources at my disposal.

February 2020: I think Mordred and Galahad would make neat narrative foils and write a short story about them playing chess.

March 2020: The plague. I'm furloughed from my job. Writing becomes my full-time focus. I write 60,000 words in Mordred and Galahad perspective, plotting their story to be a trilogy.

June 2020: I'm back to work but I'm still writing. With money and curiosity at my disposal, I begin hoarding Arthurian books. Local quirky secondhand bookstore owner had an Arthurian fixation in his youth—I clear his shelves. He asks if I'm a medievalist major and I have to break it to him I'm just a High School drop out at the mercy of the Tell-Tale knights chattering in my head. I learn more lore. I splurge to buy the Vulgate cycle. I'm forever changed.

Late 2020: Reading medlit and retellings and watching all the movies super charged the brain worms. The Vulgate especially. I develop an obsession with circumventing the Orkneys/Welshmen blood feud with the power of gay sex. (Joan Wolf did it first in her 1988 book The Road to Avalon with Agravaine/Lamorak.)

January 2021: Historical research shows that Islam didn't exist yet during the 5th/6th century I'd been writing in. I order Zoroastrianism by Mary Boyce to make sure I'm depicting Ragnelle and Gromer's religion properly. But it's nbd their page time is minimal as background characters right? ....right?

2021 continued: The Agravaine/Lamorak brain worms take on a life of their own as I'm hospitalized and bedridden. Chronic pain and isolation become my themes. I write endlessly on my phone from bed. 2/3 novels are completed and readable straight through with a third book in pieces. These are currently at a combined total of nearly 140,000 words. (Plus the notes file with scenes I haven't moved yet...whoa.)

Late 2021: I rediscover old Ragnelle/Gawain stuff and decide to write about their wedding. Again. But this time with legit sources. Except Ragnelle isn't some ambiguous character of color, she's now very specifically Persian [Iranian] Zoroastrian. So the whole thing takes place in Persia and research goes crazy. Someone gives me their college log in so I can download and hoard essays and textbook PDFs. I do beta-read trades with people in facebook groups (bad bad idea) and yet...

End of 2021: I get sample edits from various editors including one guy who insulted my "lack of education" and said emulating J. R. R. Tolkien's old style didn't work anymore and I should take inspiration from The Hunger Games....for my queer romance in Persia. Right. Anyway I pay the $100 for the pages edited so he'll go away and continue searching for my unicorn editor....

2022: Ultimately facebook group scouting finally yields results as I stumble upon a fellow Ragnelle/Gawain enthusiast who would become my editor!! Editor says I have to cut the giant book into thirds, so what is now book 1 ends up chopped.

2023: I'm still revising book 1, now titled The Moonlit Knight, with my editor. All the while I'm drafting book 2, sporadically cheating to write in other books including an Elaine and Perceval book that appeared out of no where, and scouting out beta readers. One beta reader came via a tumblr mutual who connected me through instagram. A second beta reader discovered in a discord server. Another beta reader from a different discord server. So on and so forth.

Early 2024: Beta reading continues, until I have readers for every angle I require; queer people of all flavors, Zoroastrians, Arthurian enthusiasts, Jewish readers, people with DID knowledge etc! Slowly but surely I work through revising the book with all these wonderful people to a final 95,000 words!

Mid 2024: But now...it needed a cover. I commission a tumblr mutual and work for weeks with them on that, still editing/revising and having betas read book 2, Sunshine's Lady, which is currently almost 132,000 words long and half edited/beta read.

September 2024: I still haven't published. lol. But the process takes a long time and has a lot of moving parts!

So why do I actually recommend this method? Well, this has been hugely helpful to write foreshadowing. Forgetting for a second the blueprint drawn from Arthurian Legend itself, I know how my story with my version of the characters is going to go, so I can set all of that up way in advance. It's all well and good to know (spoiler) Arthur dies at the end, but it's never been about the conclusion so much as the journey there and the unique perspective of whichever character the author has chosen to focus on. I mean, Godfrey Turton's The Emperor Arthur is Pelleas point of view. He's instrumental at the battle of Camlann. It's the same with Bernard Cornwell's Warlord Chronicles and our one-handed friend Derfel, the reasoning for which isn't revealed until book 3. The world is your oyster! Fixate on your special character and set that shit up and pay it off!!!

Knowing what you're writing toward is extremely helpful during the drafting process. Even if it's only vaguely shaped it'll develop detail as you revise. Other than Derfel's missing hand, the best example of this I can think of is in Realm of the Elderlings series by Robin Hobb. It has a huge fanbase on tumblr for a reason, it's just an insane amount of set up you're not even aware of until the impact slams into you many books later and you're left going, "Whoa.....it was there the whole time." Mind blowing. I want have half as much narrative resonance as that.

Another thing that came of this is, since I wrote Agravaine/Lamorak first, and I'm obscenely Ragnelle obsessed, she pops up in their pov as a hag, only for them to not realize she's one and the same as Gawain's bombshell wife they "meet" later. I wrote this as the lads first, but it's extra funny now that, actually, the reader will experience Ragnelle's perspective first. Hottie uncursed Ragnelle does know she met them before, but feigns otherwise. So it's very fun to see the same encounters happen a second time a few books later. Agravaine is like, "Okay granny whatever. Bye... :^/" and Lamorak is like, "That granny was weird but I like her! :^)" meanwhile the reader is like, "AHHHHH! I KNOW HER!!! YOU FOOLS DON'T KNOW HOW IMPORTANT SHE'LL BE AHHH!!!" At least, that has been the beta reader reaction, which is gratifying. Even better, the books can be read out of order, so actually if you read Agravaine/Lamorak before Ragnelle/Gawain, it works in reverse, too. So if the reader knows who Agravaine is from reading his perspective, when Ragnelle or Gawain runs into him, the reader will realize who he is before it clicks for the point of view character. I had a lot of fun developing all of this across the series for multiple characters, it certainly happens more than once.

Wow that was long but I hope it makes sense and gives you an idea how it all went down. Thanks for taking an interest and I hope you enjoy my books when they're out. Take care! :^)

[ageofevermore]

PETER LOSING WENDY

SUMMARY — she was a shadow for so many years, but eventually she found her way back home to you. only, it wasn’t as easy to leave dreykov behind as she expected

WARNINGS — mentions of abuse, mentions of the red room, a complicated hurt/comfort situation but lots of love for yelena

AUTHORS NOTE — no gender or specific pronouns are used for r, so image what you’d like!

After a while, the people we love who we lose begin to feel like shadows. They begin to feel like sunshine on a spring morning. They begin to feel like maybe, just maybe, they were never really there to begin with.

The person she wanted to be lives inside of you. The innocence and the childhood that was stolen from between her fingers like loose threads in a friendship bracelet lived vibrantly across the streets of Ohio. In your home, in your art, in your life, you carried those two sisters around with you like they were shadows stitched to your soul, like Peter Pan in Wendy’s window, like a night of flight across London to an island of eternal youth. Like a shadow, you knew she was there, but you couldn’t touch her, you couldn’t feel her, you couldn’t climb the fence that separated your backyards and watch her nose scrunch in a mischievous grin. All you could do was remember her. Remember macaroni and cheese, remember backbends and swing sets, remember bioluminescence. You never forgot her.

When she knocked on your door, dirt smeared across her cheeks, hair falling into her face and out of the braid that met the middle of her back, rips in her pants, blood on her hands… oh, you’ll never forget the sight of her. It was almost cinematic, flashes of the girl she was and the woman she is now; back and forth the two images crossed over your vision, reminding you that for twenty years she was a shadow. She must’ve been on your front steps for minutes, nervously picking at her cuticles, waiting for you to let her inside– to let her back into your life.

Weeks had passed, and Yelena was only slowly beginning to become acclimated to the world without mind control and abuse. She was timid, silly, a sarcastic wrench in your side at all times. She was so different, but exactly the same in all your favorite ways. She still loved macaroni and cheese, she still loved fireflies and comedy movies. The four year old girl you knew still lived inside her, but there was somebody else to get to know too; somebody else who was just a shadow stitched to Yelena’s side.

You were in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of dinner when Yelena came barreling in, dripping wet from the shower she’d taken minutes prior. Her blonde hair had gotten longer since she’d been here– been home, and you wished you could say it suited her well, but even she would disagree. The little girl who had loved her hair, who twisted it into braids and ponytails and colored it with sidewalk chalk to be like her older sister, was now a woman who hide herself in it, who hated braids, and hated ponytails, and cried into your chest about everything that had poisoned the well since her capture.

“Cut my hair.” She didn’t give you anytime to process what she’d requested, turning back to the bathroom where she waited. You threw the rag onto the counter, dragging your damp hands down your pants.

You found her in the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat, staring down a pair of scissors in her hands. She looked to be deep in thought, too far away in her thoughts to hear you approach, so you watched her from the doorway. Leaning against the wooden frame, you crossed your arms over your chest. She was still just a shadow. All the progress she had made, leaps and bounds, had still only resulted in a few moments of clarity. Your poor girl was lost in trying to separate her past and present.

“Lena?” You knocked softly when you watched her wipe a tear from her cheek. She sniffled, standing up from the toilet and offering you the scissors. She avoided your gaze, she avoided your touch. She was sinking deeper and deeper into herself. “You want me to cut it.”

“It makes you beautiful.” She muttered so harshly, her voice didn’t sound like her own. You’d never heard this amount of venom drip from her words, so sharp it felt like a slash against your weakest spot. “It makes you his. It makes you HIS! So he can drag you! So he can- so he can take everything away from you! We are all the same! The same braids, the same clothes! He took everything from me! He took everything!” She collapsed in on herself, crumbling to the floor, but not before you slammed the scissors onto the counter and pulled her into your chest.

“Hey, hey, honey. Honey. Yelena. Look at me. Look at me, there you go.” You ease her into your arms, pressing your back against the cabinets beneath the sink, not bothering to shift away from the handles digging into your back. “Your hair is yours, Yelena. It belongs to you. You belong to you. Do you hear me? Do you hear me, honey?” Your heart was breaking into millions of tiny pieces on the floor of your bathroom, tears falling down your cheeks and tickling your lips but you paid it no attention. The only thing you cared about was Yelena. The only thing you could think about was how she didn’t see herself the way you saw her. Despite it all, she needed you now, she had been strong for so long, for so many cold and lonely months and years. She didn;t need to be strong anymore. You could be strong for her, for as long as she needed. The childhood she never had, the compassion and empathy, the kindness and comfort, you would give it all to her in a heartbeat. You would be the one to finally allow Yelena to be human. To let her have bad days and hard nights, and not let it define her further. “You wanna cut your hair? We can do that. We can do that. But, we can do it for you. We can do it because you have the choice to choose. You have the freedom to do whatever you want.”

“I don’t want to feel his hands on me anymore. I don’t want to remember all of the lives I took.” She wept like a child and you let her. You held her on that bathroom floor for hours, you walked her to bed that night and held her all the way through, you didn’t let her go once. For once, somebody let her be human. For once, you think she saw herself as something more than a Widow.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||The Misadventures of the Phoenix and the Shadow Chimera Sorcerers Part 11-Little adventure of Yuji and Taz||

Hi dears,. This is Part 11 of this Drabble series I'm writing with my amazing friend. It seems we have another adventure this time so lets see what is going on today. To see where we are now, the chapters are down below.

---- Previous Parts -----

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

((Your reading part 11))

---Drabble Summary ---

It seems another adventure is going on with the students of Jujutsu High. However, it involves watching over little Taz and Little Yuji. However, when Sukuna and Kinie went to get some snacks, it was up to the others to watch them or would they? Curious to what happened, read to find out.

||Warning||

~Worried students

~Missing toddlers but they were fine

~Two very angry parents

||Muses in this drabble||

Taz Hellion, Kinie, , Daichi/Eito belongs to my friend and amazing rp partner@chunibyo-x-sorcerer that is a side blog owned by @demon-blood-youths

Ryomen Sukuna, Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Maki Zenin, and Nobara Kugisaki belong to Jujtusu Kaisen but also to me due to rping them as muses

((Note: This drabble will have heavy grammar mistakes and errors but this was written for fun. I hope you understand but also enjoy please.))

"Your going where?" Daichi, Megumi, Nobara asked seeing Sukuna and Kinie standing in front of the three while hearing little Yuji laughing while gently booping little Taz's nose who smiled blushing.

"You heard us. Me and Kinie are going into town to get some new stuffed toys for the little ones. I'm getting a tiger for little Yuji.." he said.

"And I'm getting a panda for little taz. Though, I already got her a quoll one but I'm getting another one......" Kinie said. Both the king and his princess were wearing some regular clothing and it seems they would do some shopping.

"So we are asking you to watch over the little ones for a few hours. We shouldn't take too long to get what we need and come back." she said.

"Ohhh so you want us to baby sit them? Sure, we can do that!" Nobara said smiling with Megumi and Daichi nodding. They wouldn't mind watching them. Even seeing the two playing.

"Good. We should be back real soon while heading into town." she said to them. As the two were getting ready to head out.

"Don't worry you guys, we will watch over Yuji and Taz till you come back!" Daichi smiled happy to the two but Kinie remembers something.

"Oh, and one thing.." she said.

"Uhhh yeah?" Daichi asked seeing Kinie looking to them.

"You guys better be sure to keep a good eye on them. You are responsible to being sure little Taz and little Yuji stay safe and don't get hurt..." she glares at Daichi but only looks to them as they tense.

"She's right. We don't want anything happening to the little ones so just be sure you keep a good eye on them. Because if we find out anything happens to them or if a single hair is missing on their heads." Sukuna grabs Daichi's shirt and lifts him up to look dead in his eyes seeing red eyes. Kinie even had her dark spear showing while glaring at them.

"You all will regret it." they said in a deadly tone scaring Daichi and them.

"U..Uhhh r..r...right! Of course, you both don't have to worry. We'll be sure they are safe." Daichi said that Sukuna looks to him but drops him as he falls on his butt.

"OW!"

"Anyway, you can contact us with these phones Gojo gave us. Just keep a eye on them...we will see you soon." he said but saw little Taz and Yuji playing as they waddle over to Kinie and Sukuna who picked them both up.

"Papa! Papa! P...Pway?" Taz coos smiling at him while holding his cheeks.

"Pway Pway!" Yuji smiled nuzzling Kinie's cheek.

"Oh you two. We have to go out for a little bit but we will be back to play with you. You and your brother be good little ones okay. And Yuji, keep a eye on your little sister okay?" Kinie said but he blinks only to nod. "Good boy."

"And Taz, be sure you listen to your little brother okay?" Sukuna said but she blinks to nod, gigging while hugging him. The group blink seeing how cute they were! They really were the only ones that can calm Kinie and Sukuna down. Seeing this, both Kinie kisses Yuji's cheek and Sukuna kissing Taz's cheek before setting them both down.

"We'll be back. Be good you two." They said smiling while they giggle waving to them. The curses smiled waving to the little ones but they glared at the others to insure they would be safe. However, they stood up to head out and close the door to see Daichi sigh.

"Yeah...still scary." Nobara said but seeing little Yuji stand up but helps little Taz stand too so they can go and play with Miko and Yuria seeing how adorable they were.

"Alright guys, lets just be sure Taz and Yuji are taking care of. Lets just do our best!" Daichi said.

"We'll be fine, Daichi. Though, lets be sure they have what they can while Sukuna and KInie are gone. With that, the group goes to babysit Taz and Yuji. For a while, they already fed them, cleaned them, and made sure they were safe and protected. Even Eito was watching over the two while they were being gentle while petting and hugging the spirit. Eito chirps nuzzling against the two.

"Awwwwww, so cute!" Gojo said taking more pictures.

"Again with the pictures.." Nanami sighed looking at him but Daichi, Megumi, and Nobara sighed. Well, since they became kids, he was enjoying this. Though, so far they already were alright and told Kinie and Sukuna the two were okay.

So far so good. It was not like anything could go wrong right? Well....after a few hours, the group was resting up while making sure the two were safe.

"I'm telling you. If you just add a theme song it's fine! It'll make you look cooler-"

"I told you a thousand times Kisho, I'm NOT adding a theme song!" Megumi argues with the girls going to get some blankets for Taz and Yuji to take their nap. The two were playing in the room with Yuji giggling to pet his sister's head again. All she did was giggle and smiles.

"But why not!? You'll be cool just like me! X3"

"NO!" he shouted at him as the two argued now. This made little Yuji blink confused to why they were arguing now. He didn't know why but he was looking only to keep by his sister. As for Taz, she was giggling hugging her quoll plush before the two hear a soft baaa from somewhere.

"???" They looked around before seeing the cursed spirit Willson? What could he want? He looks to the kids but thought they were cute! He even smiled to see the little ones eyes sparkling seeing the goat ghost.

"I TOLD YOU I'M NOT DOING THAT!" Megumi said.

"OH COME ON, IT'S COOL! YOU'LL EVEN GET NOTICED BY MANY PEOPLE EVEN OUR CLASSMATES- "

"I SAID NO!!"

He and Denji kept arguing back but didn't know the little ones were now following after Willson who was letting them. He was happy while the two kids laughing softly reaching for him. This is when the girls came back to the room.

"Hey guys, were back with the blankets. Taz and Yuji should be ready for their na-" As Nobara speaks she stops seeing the two arguing. Miko and Yuria blinks confused.

"Uhhh.."

"WHY ARE YOU TWO ARGUING!?" Nobara shouted seeing them stop to look but Megumi sighed.

"Nothing. This idiot was suggesting I should get a theme song but I said no." he Megumi said.

"He has no taste!" Daichi said with the girls sighing.

"Uh huh. Come on, we need to put the little ones down for a nap." Nobara said. "So where are they?" she asked.

"They should on the play mat." Megumi said pointing so the girls go to do that but when entering the room they stop.

"........"

"What?" Daichi asked.

"Megumi?....Daichi?...their not in here." Nobara said as the two blink to get up heading over.

"What are you talking about? They are in there. Are you trying to-" As Megumi looks he tenses seeing the play room was empty. Daichi saw but his eyes widen.

"W...what?!? But they were here! We know it!" Daichi said rushing in. "Taz!? Yuji!?" DAichi said looking around for them as the girls did and Megumi too. As they were panicking, Willson was happily playing with the little ones while he was leading the two to a play area but he would keep them safe while Taz and Yuji was happily following him.

~~~Back inside~~~~

"Oh no, oh no no no no NO!" Daichi was sweating now looking like he was going to be sick. "I can't believe this! WE LOST TAZ AND YUJI!! SUKUNA AND KINIE ARE GOING TO FUCKING KILL US!" he said crying.

"Calm down! I'm sure they are around somewhere. They couldn't have gone far." Megumi said.

"You two were to watch them while we went to get the blankets for them! How could you lose them!?" Nobara shouted to bonk the two as Megumi winces.

"It wasn't my fault! Daichi started the stupid argument so it's his fault!"

"NO! I was just trying to tell you a theme song would make you look-"

"G..GUYS! This is not the time! We have to find them before Sukuna and KInie get back! Who knows what they will do if they find out!" Yuria said worried.

"I think I might know what he might do and It won't be pretty." DAichi said shaking.

"Look, lets tell everyone in school to keep a eye out for the two. They have to be around here somewhere. We can find them before-" As he said this, Daichi's phone rings as he looks to see who it was. His face pales showing it was Sukuna and Kinie.

"What's wrong?"

"I..I..It's them! Sukuna and Kinie is calling! What do I do!?" he said.

"Just answer the phone!" Megumi said but DAichi whines not wanting to but gulps to calm down and picks up. "Uhhhh Hello?"

'Hey brat. It's me. Were just calling to check on the pups. Are they alright?'

"Yeah, of course! Their fine. We ummm...just put them down for a nap." Daichi said but he was scared.

'I see. Well, I'm just calling to say we should be back in a little bit. Kinie is looking for some new bows for Taz but I got Yuji some hats. It should be another two hours before we come back.'

"Right. Thanks for the heads up! We'll be sure to do that!" he said loudly but Sukuna blinks.

'Why are you being so loud? Your shouting...'

"S..Sorry, just ummm.....excited. Anyway, we'll see you two later!" he said to hang up.

~~~~~~~

Sukuna blinks to lower the phone. "Weird." he said but heard Kinie laughing. He looks seeing her holding some cute little bows for Taz.

"Did you find something princess." Sukuna said even if other women blushed seeing how hot Sukuna looked! He looked pretty built for a guy.

"I did! Taz would look cute with this!" she said showing them. Sukuna looks but smiled.

"I think she would be three times cuter than she is." he said to Kinie who smiled being adorable. He chuckled to pet her head while KInie smiled. "Oh, I forgot. How are the pups?"

"They are taking their naps. I think by the time we get back, they should wake up. So, we should hurry up and head back." he said.

"Of course my king." she said happily finishing up as he follows her. Though, he was helping with holding the things in a basket.

~~~~Back at Jujutsu High~~~~~

Everyone is on high alert trying to find the little ones. They have looked in all the classrooms, outside, teacher's lounge, hidden spots, even other locations and no luck. Where could they be!?

"Ohhhh their going to kill us. Their going to kill us!!" Daichi cries looking cared. "What are we going to do?! What are we gonna tell them!?" he said.

"Stop panicking. The little ones have to still be in school. We just have to keep looking." Megumi said.

"But how long!? Sukuna and Kinie will be back soon! They will destroy the school if they find out!" he said but Megumi sighed. He saw the girls running over worried but tired. "Any luck?"

"No. We looked in the cafeteria but nothing." Nobara said.

"We checked the classrooms with the second grade and nothing." Miko said worried.

"Were still looking around but..what if they walked off the school grounds!?" Yuria said that made Daichi twitch but slowly think.

"O..O..Out..o..o..of s...s..school grounds?" he meeps but his eyes became dizzy and falls back to faint. Yeah, they were going to kill him. Megumi sighed to see that.

"Great.......Come on, lets keep looking." Megumi said while they just keep looking. The groups were scattered all over but they had no idea Willson was watching them. Even carrying them on his back to give them little rides. And yes, they are still on school grounds. Little Yuji laughed having fun but held onto his sister Taz who was making silly noises riding his back even petting his head.

"Goooo....f..fun!" she smiled.

"Baaaaa...sooo cute!" he said happily to reach and nuzzle the two who smile and hug him back. Yeah, they were having fun with him. Not knowing the chaos going on right now. They looked everywhere for the last few hours till it was later in the afternoon. Megumi was tired but was upset seeing they didn't find them.

Nobara was worried hoping they were alright. Daichi did wake up but he was pacing left and right. They didn't find the two and it was already getting dark.

"I don't get it. They should be around but no! Where could they be!?" Daichi said but Megumi looks to him.

"I don't know. We should have watched them better then they wouldn't be missing. All because you wanted to argue about stupid theme songs."

"Theme songs are NOT dumb!" he said.

"Guys not now! I just hope the others are having better luck..." Yuria said but they might have to tell Sukuna and Kinie they lost the pups. They were not going to be happy.

"So..h..how should we tell them?" Daichi said worried as the group thinks but it's when they heard the door open making him tense.

"Guys! were back!"

Sukuna and Kinie returned.

'Oh on..' Daichi said.

"Sorry we were late. We had to get some other things for the little ones but we hope they were good." Kinie said showing the bag with Sukuna doing the same. However, the two blink seeing the group tired or something.

"What is wrong? Did the pups tire you all out? That's a shame. They are pretty quick for little pups." Kinie smiled. "So, are they still taking their nap?"

"...."

"Is something wrong?" Sukuna asked but Megumi sighed to look at them.

"Sukuna..Kinie...we have something to tell you.." he said.

"Tell us? What is it?" She asked but Sukuna wonders too that Daichi looks scared but sighed.

"W..we......we sorta lost them?" Daichi said nervous but the king and his princess blinks.

"Lost them? What are you talking about?" KInie asked.

"...Lost as in we...lost Yuji and Taz.." Megumi said but Sukuna was shocked that Kinie drops the bag seeing the bows and stuff doll of a panda fall out. She quickly rushes into the play room to check.

"But don't be angry. We been looking for them all day! We are having the others help us try to find them-"

"....WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FUCKING LOST THEM!? AS IN THEY BEEN GONE SINCE I CALLED!?" Sukuna shouted to make the others wince. He was pissed.

"Y..Yes but please! We didn't mean to-"

"WE GAVE YOU ONE JOB TO DO AND YOU FUCKING LOSE THEM! HOW THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT!?" He shouted.

"It wasn't our fault! It's just me and Megumi got into some argument about him having a theme song and-"

"YOU LOST THE PUPS BECAUSE OF SOME DAMN ARGUMENT!!!" he shouted but Kinie looks to come back but she was quiet. The girls saw her upper face hidden but their was tears? Wait, was she crying?

"........You..YOU IDIOTS!" Kinie barked that her cursed energy shows up in deadly waves but she walks over showing a spear ready to hunt them all down. "HOW COULD YOU LOSE THEM! WHAT IF SOMETHING BAD HAPPENED TO THEM!" she said now crying angry.

"KINIE CALM DOWN! WE DIDN'T MEAN TO-"

"SILENCE! DO YOU KNOW THEY COULD HAVE WANDERED OFF FROM SCHOOL GROUNDS! WHAT IF ANOTHER CURSE GOT THEM!? WHAT IF THEY GOT HURT!? WHAT IF THEY......WHAT IF THEY GOT KILLED!?" she said now tightening the grip on her spear but she looks up to scare them. Her eyes were glowing but the tears were seen. Even Sukuna was worried. He's never seen his princess cry like this.

"KINIE PLEASE-"

"I SHOULD FUCKING KILL ALL OF YOU FOR LOSING HER! AND YUJI TOO! I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR LOSING THE LITTLE ONES!" she shouted.

"KINIE CALM DOWN!" Megumi said but she had her kinfolk surround everyone ready to attack them. "YOU FOOLS DARE LOSE THEM! I WILL BE SURE YOU REGRET THIS! I WILL BE SURE TO MAKE YOU ALL-" As she speaks, someone pulls her back only to be held. She looks up but saw Sukuna quiet.

"Enough princess........please calm down." he said but she was quiet only to cry more that she hid her face sobbing loudly in his chest. Sukuna held her but he looks to the others.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't curse you all for losing the pups. And it better be a good damn one." he said.

"........W..we don't know we just..the girls were getting blankets for them but...after they did we lost track and...." Megumi couldn't explain knowing even from now, Sukuna was pissed off. He held a crying Kinie to him but he slowly held his other hand like he was going to destroy the room with them in it.

"W..wait Sukuna please! We'll keep looking for them! Please we are sorry!" Daichi said crying.

"......You should be. Though, I'm sure we will make you all suffer for losing them." he said in a dark tone as everyone was ready to defend themselves from a angry Sukuna. His cursed energy was showing around him. However, before he could....

A familiar baaaa was heard to make him blink. The others did too seeing from the window of Willson happily floating over.

"What the..."

"Oh great. What does the damn goat want? I"m not in the mood to deal with you right now!" Sukuna shouted at Willson. However, the goat keeps coming to the window before he floats in but was carrying two little bundles of blankets.

"????"

"Sorry evil king...baaaaaa I was having so much fun with the little pupppssss today. They got tired out after following me to play."

Wait what!?

Kinie's eyes widen to turn and see the blanket. Willson lowers down to set them on a big pillow showing little Yuji asleep with a smile but hugging little Taz to him. It was the pups!

"Ehh!?!" Willson had them all this time!?

"Hold on, how long have you had them!?" Megumi said but the goat looks.

"Huh? Alllllll day. They followed me outside but I kept a watch on them. I was trying to take them back but they wanted to stay. Why, did I miss something?" he asked.

Right away, Kinie goes to the two but she falls on her knees still crying. They were safe. They were back safe and alive. Reaching with a shaky hand, she touches Taz and Yuji's little cheeks as they sleep peacefully happy. Though, they knew it was her to yawn but nuzzle against her hand holding it.

"......." Kinie said nothing but sobs gently reaching to pick them up in her arms to kiss their foreheads.

"Oh thank god your both safe...I was so worry.." she sobs holding them but Sukuna calms down to gently go and hold Kinie with the little ones. He was happy they were safe too. He did look to Willson to say,

"Thank you for watching over them. We heard the others lost them...but thank you for keeping them safe." Sukuna said.

"Your welcome.....I didn't want anything happening to them. But they are alright...I even got them some food from the cafeteria so they were fed too. Even so, I'm going to go sleep now..it was fun playing with them. NIght night.." with that, Willson disappears to do that. Sukuna sees him gone but now looks to Kinie crying but nuzzling the two.

"....Sooooo...were not in trouble are we?" Daichi said.

".......No, your still in trouble....we told you guys to watch them...so your lucky you won't die this night. I think we'll keep a eye on them from now on.." Sukuna said but he picks Kinie up in his arms along with the bags they got for them and leaves to set them down to rest. The others remain in the living room but falls on the ground after the scare.

"...Daichi?"

"Y..Yeah Megumi?" he said.

"The next time or if we get the chance to watch them again..no more talk of theme songs...ever." Megumi said.

"...Deal." he said. Nobara shook her head but she'll write this in for a side mission. Though, she was happy that the two were safe. Meanwhile in a room they were given. Sukuna was holding Kinie who went to sleep but she was holding Yuji and Taz in her arms. He finds it cute to see this almost like he and her had a family. Gently kissing her forehead, he was happy to know the pups were safe.

[suchaspookyginger]

we're not thinking too hard about this, have some italkit!soul word vomit

________

he's watching maka practice japanese with tsubaki, tongue still too heavy on the japanese r, yet still trying so hard to cling to her mother's homeland, when he's suddenly reminded of his grandmother.

____

nonna bianchi, her hair as white as soul's and the fairest blonde before that to match wes's; eyes richer than molasses that glowed almost carmine in twilight. she carried herself with grace and dignity always, her back straight and her head high, making those surrounding her forget that she never quite reached five feet. she was born, like so few in her time, in america to judeo-italian immigrants.

(refugees, soul thinks to this day. they fled their community in venice to brooklyn before the pope had even denounced the rise in antisemitism during the fascist period. immigration, nonna said, because we were smart; we left when other italian jews were supporting mussolini's rise. refugees, wes agreed with soul, because we saw the smoke for what it was, because our blood and our bones remember fleeing sicily, remember fleeing spain, remember fleeing, fleeing, fleeing, if only to survive one more day. immigration, nonna said, because we still have our pride.)

nonna bianchi, whose first language was a pidgin hybrid of italian, ladino and english, yet spoke each individually with perfect clarity. nonna bianchi, who later collected languages like soul collects records, like maka collects books, was always careful with her company when speaking italian to soul ("they didn't care that i was born american, solomon," she said, steely gaze in the middle distance. "they only cared that my family's homeland was an enemy."). she was always careful with her company when teaching him hebrew, too ("these american goyim are our friends now, but their fathers and grandfathers supported hitler before american involvement in the war, and their children and grandchildren may support the next one. always be alert, son.").

nonna bianchi, whose first love was her culture, her second russian opera, instilled the love and drive for music in her children and grandchildren while also drilling in the holiness of shabbat, the importance of community, the yearning for their culture.

nonna bianchi, whose love for her grandchildren overflowed like wine during passover, yet overwhelmed them with her strive for perfection in judaism, perfection in performance, perfection in academics, to the point where soul just snapped. he broke and he broke down and he fled like his ancestors before him the second he had an out, the blades erupting from his arms providing him a lifeline away from the deep waters of his childhood home and expectations. (he never could worship lord death as the god he was, but he could work for him, work under him, work as a tool to keep this world safe. it took maka the better part of a year to understand why he didn't turn any lights on on saturdays and fasted every few months, his devotion to his people sporadic yet second nature. on an early mission to los angeles, he stumbled upon a small judaica shop, feeling a longing he hadn't realized ate away at him until that moment. he left with one mezuzah not dissimilar to the one on nonna's front door and a simple black kippah with red stitching. he only kisses the mezuzah on shabbat and holidays, and he has never worn the skullcap, but it sits in his drawer for a day he may need it. it brings him comfort regardless.)

nonna bianchi, whom soul called for the first time days after kidd made his auguration speech, calling for a new time with witches as allies and soul as the last death scythe.

"are you ready to come home, solomon?" nonna asked in italian as they reached the natural conclusion of their conversation, catching up on lost time, her voice slightly gruffer with age that soul missed over the last half-decade gone, the dulcet tones that brought her fame in her youth still in the under layers.

"i am home," he replied, his hebrew stiff but there - barely touched in his time away save for the high holidays and the occasional shabbat. he looks out from his spot on the couch in their living room, into the kitchen where maka is prepping dinner, "i found my music out here."

"and your judaism?" nonna asked. "surely working for a minor deity has caused issues."

"it's probably not how you'd hoped for me. death city is wanting for any jewish life, and i can't make it to my shul in vegas more than once a month for the most part. but maka, and everyone else, too, they do shabbat with me. we do tzedakah and hold seders and maka listens to me when i need to remember." soul paused, searching for the words - in english, italian, hebrew, it didn't matter, "it's not - sometimes it's lonely. i needed to leave, but it didn't stop me from missing wes, or mom and dad, or you. i didn't realize how much judaism, and being italian, was a part of me until i was no longer immersed in it."

"but you won't return."

"no, nonna. i'll visit, soon, but this is - maka, she's - i'm home here, in a way that i hadn't felt in new york, maybe ever."

"bring this girl with you," nonna said, "when you come visit. she sounds like a hell of a woman."

"she is, nonna."

"good," she chuckled, "maybe we can make a jew out of her yet."

soul spluttered, heat rising in his face. maka looked over at him in confusion when she heard him yell out, "nonna! not in english!"

____

soul's still watching maka and tsubaki talk from his spot on the couch. they've taken over the kitchen table, a few japanese workbooks meant for late elementary-aged children open to help maka practice her kana, sitting just as ignored as their cups half-full of tea as maka's face flushes pink. he can't tell if it's from concentration or their topic of discussion, but he smiles soft at her expression regardless.

soul is no expert in japanese, truly he doesn't understand a lick of it, but he can guess that their conversation has strayed to him by the number of times they say "sōru," the sound of his name a borrowed word all the more evident when tsubaki catches his eye and smirks. maka shoots her a sharp look and says something to her, lips careful yet clumsy as they form words still unfamiliar in her mouth, inflection at the end implying a question. tsubaki laughs, sugary sweet, as she obliges what is now clearly a subject change.

maka looks over at him after a while, smile soft and uncharacteristically shy, and a need washes over soul. he gets up, strides the short walk to where maka sits, and stands behind her, his face lightly buried in her hair.

"soul?" maka's voice is light, inquisitive. tsubaki raises an eyebrow, silent as she picks up her now surely cold tea and delicately sips at it.

he decides on hebrew. just because he needs to say it to her face doesn't mean he's not still terrified out of his mind. italian and ladino are too similar to spanish, and they're in close enough proximity to a few hispanic communities to hear spanish casually, and even maka knows enough to be able to figure out what he's saying without needing to actually know either language. hebrew doesn't have a distinction in the way that volere and amore are distinct, but his voice raw when ohev comes out of his mouth and he worries that she'll know regardless.

the whine that comes out of his mouth when she replies with her own "ohevet" is covered by her giggle, bright and musical as ever.

[thiefofcrows]

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 !!

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑(𝐒): Maroon, magenta, purple.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑(𝐒): Pumpkin and banana flavored things are my absolute favorite.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂: I really love alternative rock / alternative metal, R&B, and various pop genres ( especially the darker ones ). Some of my favorite artists are I Prevail, Linkin Park, Twenty-One Pilots, Nine Inch Nails and Billie Eilish.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄(𝐒): The Lion King, Encanto, Inglorious Bastards, Godzilla: King Of The Monsters, Jurassic Park and Peter Pan ( 2003 ). To Name A Few lol.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: Shadow & Bone, Person Of Interest, Elementary, Lost, The Good Place, Lucifer, Legally Romance ( 才不要和老板谈恋爱 ) and Schitt's Creek.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍: Drafts and a starter I owe ofc and learning German on Duolingo.

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: Stay open by Z.TAO, Diplo, MØ … bc it's my notification ringtone 😂

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: I'm watching several at once with @feilien, so … Person Of Interest, 99.9%, My Precious and Hot Blooded Youth.

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄: Pretty sure it was Guns Akimbo, again with @feilien lmao.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆: The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo and The Wicked King by Holly Black.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆: Nothing right this moment, but in general ... same answer as "Last series".

TAGGED BY: @shieldagentnatasharomanoff

TAGGING: @cruelprincae, @veitsia, @draconisa, @noblehcart ... and anyone else who's so inclined, feel free to tag me 😊