#second prince of the flowing sand

[mehiwilldoitlater]

"Get your dirty hands off me! LET GO OF ME!"

"Listen Brother! We must act with respect! We have a lady in our hands!"

The two yaoguais kept on laughing while they were dragging you somewhere, far away from your friend and protector.

Everything happened so fast that you couldn't register the events: the Destined One, and you had to head to the location of the second relic, which you knew was in this desert. It seems easy at first; you thought that you just needed to be as careful as the last time, but something went wrong!

How could you not notice those scouts?! Maybe they were more used to the state of the place; maybe the dust covered the smell for your friend; what you know Is that in a couple of minutes your monkey was now on the ground, his chest puerced with arrows, agonizing yes, but still alive? You tried to help him; take the gourd that you carried with you with your healing wine, but before that, those rats had already captured you. You kept on struggling and fighting as much as you could, but instead they have other plans for you.

"Our second prince will love this snack! I heard that this one is a really good catch."

"Ah! Please! Maybe he'll give us a bite!"

They were planning to give you fkr lunch to their prince. 

If it was them or him, you didn't care; what you did care was to survive and help your monkey out of that mess.

You were so focused on trying to break free from care where they were dragging you, but you started to think that it must have been an indoor when the scorching sun wasn't burning your head anymore.

It looked like a cave, maybe a temple inside the mountain based on the carvings on the walls. Columns made of pure stone, stalagmites, and stalactites decorated with sacred figures and prayers, commemorative candles near statues of Buddha and his disciples.

The ones that built the city must have used the caves in order to obtain more spaces, maybe?

You didn't get enough chance to ask since the two rats didn't show any kindness when they literally threw you on the ground.

"Shouldn't we... I don't know...cook her or something?"

"Ah! The prince and the king live their food fresh and squirmy! Now let's go; he doesn't like being seen while he eats."

And while you were Just pick up yourself from the ground, you Heard their soft and fast footsteps, leaving you in this new side of the cave. There were objects, quite a lot even, all of them around, like some small mountains of trinckets and stuff.

Furniture was around, but those were so damaged and old that you questioned if someone could even use it like that. On the walls of the cave, someone had put some decoration—canvases that had almost lost all of their colors, rusted weapons that were long lost—lost the care that they used to, for the exception of a scary giant Chui that was resting on the ground, ready to be picked.

Whoever was able to hold it must have been a quite herculean creature.

There was such a short source of light, coming from one hole in the ceiling of the wall and...from the way they took you in! There was no door, no bars, nothing! 

You didn't want to waste anymore time, and so you sprinted in the same direction that the two rats had left you, until a rumble on your feet almost tripped you for the second time.

There was another, then another one. 

Footstep, something big was walking towards you.

Two giant feet, covered in fur and some claws that you swear could rip apart your flesh, incased you. The armor was old and marred but still held some remembrance of his rank and position in his kingdom.

A large and long tail and a pointy mout... it was a rat, but it was grotesquely big. His yellow eyes scrutinized you, while his nose was sniffing the air in your direction.

Without thinking twice, you bolted so fast to escape from that thing, but you didn't get enough time since he was fast enough to grab you from your ankle and raise you up like an old ragged doll. You tried to kick it, scratch it, and try to punch it, but he didn't budge a little; it was like a mosquito bite for him.

"LET ME GO! STOP!"

Despite your plea, he just stood there, looking at you and sniffing more closely. A few of your hair sucked in his nostrils, and so I kept it up for a few more seconds. You couldn't see it, but it seemed... curious. He decided to change your position, holding you by your waist, trying to see you better from another angle.

You were beyond terrorized; from near, he was even worse! AND THAT SMELL! You shivered in his grasp, too afraid to move another punch or kick while he studied you. He finally stopped moving when your face hit a direct ray of sunlight from the hole in the ceiling. You gasped, tried to cover yourself, and then...the ground. 

He didn't tossed you at all; he just putted you down. It was incredible to notice that you didn't even feel any pain in your abdomen from where he had grasped you. At that point, he just started to emit something that reminded you of some kind of giggle, a few snorts, and he looked...excited? He trotted to one of the small trinkets stacked near the bed that you assumed was his own. starting to move things around.

He was distracted. That was your chance! You slowly start to pick it up from where you left it to get out from there, when you felt again his enormous hand on your back, grasping the back of your shirt from behind, rising you up again like a kitten.

"Stop it! I don't-"

And then, again, you were seated...in front of what once was maybe a nice tea set. His throat was emitting a strange sound while he started a small fire and put a big iron pot of water on it. He was...humming...while making tea? And there were two pairs of small cups, old and dusty, and one was for you?

You didn't muttered a word, preferring to stare at that strange creature that was now putting some dried herbs; you wondered if it was even tea in the pot, still very small for something of his size.

"Wha...what are...you doing?"

"Making tea...for the guest!"

Okay, now it was a really good moment to freak out; he thought you were a guest?! HIS GUEST?! 

"I thought you were supposed to..."

You held your tongue, reminding him about the fact that you were lunch for him; it may be quite a problem. You tried another time to move away, but suddlenly got back in place when some kind of conckut was versed in your cup. A few big drops spilled; he wasn't so versatile in this.

And then he looked at you. No, staring. He was there, staring at you, waiting for a response, and you looked at the staff in your cup. Imagine the food infection that it would cause. You kept on staring at it, trying to come up with every possible excuse to avoid the ingestion of the brooth, but three meters Yaogauis don't leave room for so many options. You gulped the content of the cup, trying to hold the near vomit coniate.

",..Gee...thanks...that was...so nice! .....Thanks..."

Oh was... please, like a lot. He started to clap, happy, drinking directly from the pot.

After that, he started again to act strangely. But this time it wasn't about taking care of the guest, but just...pile up staff...on you.

He made sure that you were comfortable, as much as you were, but his actions reminded you of a child that is showing you staff. At some point he even tried to put a necklace around your neck, but your sudden shriek made him desist, only for him to put the garmet in your hand. It was an old and broken jade pearl necklace; maybe there was a pendant in the middle since the space, but it was long gone. The small gems were broken or ruined, but it seemed to be once a really nice piece of jewelry.

At some point, your fear just became boredom and hassle, especially when he kept on showing you staff. At some point, what really caught your eye was a rectangular piece of wood that had previously fallen from one of the piles next to you. Covered in dust and mud, it must have seen better time, but, on the front, something was still visible: it was a piece of paper plastered with something on the wood, and, on it, three figures standing, one sitting in the center of it. The three standing figures seemed young, each of them with something to distinguish them from each other, the one sitting on a small chair wearing instead some regal robes.

"Ah, a painting...why did you keep it with you? Do you like drawing?"

The rat suddenly stopped, pointing his finger towards you and the draw.

"Me! Me and brothers! And my papa too! You found it, so good."

He seemed delighted, clapping his hands and making again those strange sounds. You, instead, cannot stop looking at the drawing confused. Him? Wait...one of them had a Chui next to him, and some traits, by using a lot of imagination, made him similar to your gaoler.

"Wait...this is you? You are him?!"

You pointed the figure, and he just...nodded, vigurusly.

"But," you continued, "how?! How it happened?! You were a man! How did you become a... Yaoguai?"

You said, avoiding using the word rat, opting to not make remarks on his looks further. 

"Master!" He just chirped "Master! He did it! Everyone rats now! Little brother left, searching for help for turning in rats...still missing...older brother...not so good...he acts violent...daddy like master! So I follow too! ....But not like, like, daddy."

"Master?...what master?"

"Sage! Wind sage!"

"Hold on, the...the yellow wind sage did this to you?" He kept on nodding; this time it was slower than before; maybe it was something that he wasn't proud of?

"Did it hurt you? I mean,. you didn't have a tail before. It was painful. I'm...sorry..." Your tone was softer this time, wondering how much pain that poor creature must have endured all this time. He seemed to be remembering his old life as a man; maybe, by having you in, he tried to recreate some old habits of him? Did you remind him of someone that he had lost? He didn't even try to eat you at all; he was just being nice.

He kept on looking at you, sensing the change in the room after this knowledge, and he just...poke you. You looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Was he trying to cheer you up?

"Even rat, help Daddy! Master will be back, Daddy happy, and finally Daddy will notice my work! Me protect people from tigers! Not many thanks, but still do!"

And now you felt worse! How could someone say so casually that their father doesn't give them enough credits?! He was just a big guy. Yaogaus truly were strange, from some friendly horses to a rat prince.

"I'm sorry to know that you have to endure all of this... But, you know, me and my friend, we're searching for AH!"

Trying to understand this creature, trying to get a chance to flee, and trying to not faint for fear made you forget the first reason why you were there in the first place. You rose from your spot, causing him to back away in surprise.

"The relic! The wind sage...MONKEY!"

You put down the cup; how could you stay here taking tea while your friend was somewhere pierced by who knows how many arrows?! You started to move away from there, trying not to fall from the various junk that he had put around you.

"I'm sorry! I need to leave! My friend needs me; I need to help him! I AGH!"

When he grabbed you, this time he was more scared and aprehensive, trying to stop you from your exit.

"No! You must stay! Other kill and eat, I protect and care! You too, nice! You stay!"

The fight that you left before restarted again, this time with much more vigor from you. You won't have let your friend die in that dump place!

"Put me down! I don't want to stay here with you! LET ME GO!"

His attempt to keep you in place resulted in both his giant hands holding you and trying to keep your kicking feet away from his face. He was starting to panic. Why did you have to leave?!

The struggle continued, and both of you did not notice a figure approaching fastly in your direction until you just heard a huge STOMP. The rat started to move around like a drunk man, then collapsed in a huge cloud of dust and sand. This time, you didn't have to taste the ground since two strong arms were ready to capture your fall.

"You look like you were in need of assistance, my Bián huá!"

"...Monkey!"

His furry face welcomed you once you opened your eyes from the fall with a smile and, instinctively, you launched your arms around his neck for an hug. But you remembered his wounds at the last moment.

"AH! I'm sorry! Your wounds!"

"I'm fine! See? Not a scratch!"

He showed you his chest, untouched and without trace of any wounds or arrows.

"But I saw it... Did the healing wine help you?"

"Not exactely. I've found a helping hand that...

Will let you lose your head!"

"...it's strangely specific."

He just laughed it off but regained his seriousness once he heard some moan of pain from the rat Yaogaui in front of him. He let you down, then took back his staff. 

"Wait!" He looked at you surprised. "Let's just leave him. You gave him a concussion already. I don't think he'll be a problem soon."

"All right, I don't know what happened here, but you look like you had a blast. Let's move now; more rats will come after the commotion!"

You nodded, but you still looked back at the prince with the same sorry expression from before.

"I'm sorry. It's an urgent matter. I promise to apologize better when we'll take the relic. Thank you!"

And so you and the Destined One left hand in hand the cave, noticing in a rush moment the look of pain in the prince's eyes. You wondered if the pain was for his head or something else.

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a/n : WAAAHHH another event organised by @queenpiranhadon THE QUEEN HERSELF !! this sm fun, hope yall enjoy !! lovely banner was also made by @queenpiranhadon IS THERE ANYTHING SHE CANT DO OMG.

modern au, fem reader, merman shoto, maybe ooc shoto but ehh were havin fun, shoto is very touchy, mute shoto for plot, shoto iq too handsome for his own good, shotos a prince, shoto is very inlove w reader but its all inoccent, shoto n reader are both in their 20's, reader has a dog ! fluffy fluff fluff, sorta cliffhanger, theres a lot of stuff not mentioned bc i like romance and nothing else, little hints of soulmates, falling in love quickly the events don't play out exactly like the fairytale but it's inspired !

walking on the beach is supposed to be relaxing. and usually, it is. there’s nothing you enjoy more than the sounds of the waves crashing and the wind howling in your ears. inhaling the sea air as max digs into the sand, barking out happily at every new big stick he’d found.

except this time, it’s not a big stick. but a big..person.

a human. person. unconscious you hope, you pray, sprawled out in the sand with clothes absolutely torn to shreds.

so yeah, not very relaxing.

it's been a few minutes since your dog had barked for your attention a little further down the beach. you'd happily giggled at first, thinking your dog might've an extra long stick for you to throw him only for you to see what looked like hair from your field of vision. and then an arm, a leg and now here you were.

anyone's first instinct should be to call an ambulance, of course he could be injured ! so with a start, you grab max by his collar to prevent him from licking off the handsome--you feel a little bad for gazing at him while he's unconscious/dead but you have to be honest--stranger's face off, and pull out your phone to call emergencies.

you look back down to check on him one last time only for him to be wide awake.

"oh, shit !" you squeal with a start, landing right on your ass from your crouched position over him. the man is unmoving at first, but gets up with a light groan. you want to help him, you really do, but you feel like someone's glued your butt to the floor.

this man you thought was dead seconds ago, about to call the ambulance for, has awoken. looking around aimlessly before his eyes land on you. he looks almost..entranced by you.

yet all you can think about is how gorgeous he is. a part of you still feels bad about it.

then he's a hair away from you and you can't breathe. you squeak embarrassingly loud, shooting up to your knees.

"um !" you gasp "hello..?" you back up a bit but he pays it no further mind continuing to blink at you. "are you okay? um--do you need medical assistance ?" from what you can see he doesn't look injured, so you're relieved, but you still want verbal confirmation.

except all he does is open his mouth a couple times before immediately closing it again. you blink at him and he blinks back at you.

"do-are you..okay ?" you ask tentatively, the man is unresponsive and you're seriously getting freaked out. "i- it's okay, we'll get you some help, lemme just.." you readjust to finally move and call emergencies, but something stops you.

a very cold hand is wrapped around your arm. you squeal at the chill, dropping onto your ass in front of the man. again. you don't want this to become a recurring thing at all.

finally the man gives you a response..sort of. he graces you with a shake of his head. his hair flows around softly and some water droplets fly off at the movement. he doesn't want you getting him help ?

"no ?" your eyebrows furrow "you..don't want help ?" he shakes his head again. you can tell he's trying to convey something but he can't seem to get it out. you wonder why he won't speak, and then you realise: he must be mute.

and now it's starting to make a bit more sense. you still wonder why he doesn't want paramedics involved. and you're mind races again, maybe he's a criminal on the run ?!

you blink, being brought back to reality by the handsome man who's sopping wet, freezing cold yet it barely seems to faze him with his grip still on his wrist. freezing to the touch yet you barely feel it with his eyes on you like this. he points to himself, then raises his thumb up. you're so lost in his eyes it takes you a moment to realise what he's saying.

i'm okay.

somehow, the man ended up staying at your house.

you know nothing about him, not his name, his age, though he looks about your age. you don't know where he's from or why he was in the state he was in but somehow he's ended up coming into your home.

you let him look around your house to his hearts content. this man is the epitome of strange, he seemed curious of everything in your house, even the dry clothes and the shower you offered him.

after explaining to him how your shower works, and he'd changed into fresh new clothes, the biggest tracksuit you could find, you find yourself currently looking at him watching tv, seemingly entranced. you've got half a mind to warn him about sitting too close to the tv since he's sitting right in front of it on the floor, but you decide against it

you know nothing about him, but he seems not to know anything..at all.

you don't know sign language, you have no idea how to communicate with him, you wrack your brain, scratching at your head with a huff. the sound seems to alarm him and he turns to you with a cute tilt of his head, you can somehow guess he's trying to ask you what's wrong, his eyes seem to be clouded with worry. you feel your skin heat up.

"i'm alright, thanks." he seems to understand. he nods, it seems his attentions gone from the tv to you as he keeps inspecting you. his sudden rising from the floor causes you to jump a little, eyes wide as he sits down next to you and softly bounces on the couch. he seems surprised by the softness of it as he bounces a couple more times and that does manage to get a giggle out of you.

he looks up at the sound and his eyes are fixed to yours again "nice huh ? i bought that when i first moved here." he nods, focused. it gives you the confidence to continue even though his intense gaze makes you a little anxious. "i slept on this for a while before i was able to actually buy myself a bed." you giggle, suddenly overcome with nostalgia. you'd moved to your small town about a year and a half ago, you were still young, freshly graduated when you decided to leave it all behind. your big bustling town, you're family and everything that you knew. you thought it was time for a new start, as big as your hometown was it felt extremely suffocating. you needed something new.

the first few months were a struggle, something to get used to. but you'd managed. you'd found a yourself a nice job with a nice pay. some nice neighbours and nice coworkers and the sweetest little (?)english sheepdog. said dog had gotten quickly attached to your unexpected guest, excitedly jumping all over and licking him. your guest though startled at first didn't seem to mind. even placing his hand on top of max's head as if to pet him and being surprised by the softness of his fur. he seemed to like soft things.

you shake your head, deciding to focus on your guest. who's eyes have not left yours. you don't know if you can get used to that. "so um..where are you from ?" he perks up at your question. grabbing your wrist so he could softly pull you over your window to point outside where you'd found him. his skin is considerably warmer now that he's not drenched, it makes your cheeks tingle how easily he grabs at you.

"uh, no that's not what i meant," you chuckle nervously, but he's adamant. shaking his head and pointing outside again. towards the sea. the sea ?

"the sea ?" you ask incredulously "you came from..the sea ?" he nods, almost excited that you'd figured it out..the sea ?

okay, there could be a rational explanation for that..maybe his boat got lost at sea..sure it was plausible, but that's never happened in your quiet little town. everything about this man was unusual.

at your doubt, the man's eyes widen just a bit. and it looks like he gets an idea because he starts pulling you over to your bathroom. you're trying to reason with him and get him to slow down, but he seems intent and set on getting to your bathroom.

"hey, what're you--ah !" you cover your eyes quickly when you notice him taking off his clothes, heart speeding up as you squeak "wha-what the hell are you doin' ?!" then the water starts running, and then nothing. you're curiosity peeked, you glance at him through your fingers and don't see what you'd expected. instead you see..scales? and a tail ?

and then your hands fall from over your eyes, and you fully see it. the mix of white and red scales, they shine underneath the light of your bathroom.

a tail.

the man you rescued from the beach has a tail and isn't a man at all.

you've got a merman in your house.

shoto is running late.

usually he's on time, but it seems the universe was against him today. his father had held him back with an endless lecture that seemed to drag on. he'd been more on edge, so to speak, since his son's coronation was approaching, a day he was absolutely dreading and everybody seemed to be on his back about it.

his sister had also held him back earlier. just for a chat she'd claimed, except shouto could tell it was a clumsy attempt to try and get some type of answer out of him, of why he's been sneaking off so often. she had lamented to him about her worries with his fascination of humans and their strange inventions. fuyumi was the only one he'd confided into about his collection of strange objects from the human world. tossed into the sea or scavenged from shipwrecked boats if he was feeling a little risky. however, what had started off as an innocent interest started becoming dangerous, in his sisters eyes, as he slowly started rising up to shore. closer and closer to humans.

she'd warned him to be careful, that humans were dangerous. shouto knew of the tales that were told about humans since he was young, of the unspeakable things they did to his kind. of course he did, but he just had a feeling not all humans could be like what he was told. as usual, he waves her off with the promise that he'd be vigilant as he swims off again.

he hopes he makes it in time.

someone calls for him suddenly and he stops in his tracks, the voice sounds familiar and he recognizes his fluffy haired friend izuku swimming up to him, shoto is tempted to ignore him. but it'd be mean, and unbecoming of a future king of the seas, so he waits for him to catch up. izuku midoriya was his one and only real confidant, his family had worked for his ever since they were both young and even if he was technically his servant, he could confidently call him his friend.

"hello, izuku." shoto greets simply, izuku quickly returns the greeting, before looking around to make sure they wouldn't be heard.

"were you going up to shore again ?" he asks nervously. shoto hums, nodding softly "i am." izuku stiffens, his fins flicker nervously.

"i-i don't know if that's the best idea.. i mean, your coronation is coming up and your father is even more on edge than usual-"

"what he doesn't know won't hurt him. which is why i'm expecting you not to tell him anything."

"of course not ! but his majesty is..." izuku cuts himself off, looking off to the side "i fear he's getting suspicious of your..activities?" he explains, wording it as best he can. shoto holds back the groan bubbling up in his throat: so many worries piling up and so little time.

it's unbecoming of a future king, but shoto decides he'll worry later.

"i'll think about him later." the disdain in his voice is palpable, but izuku being used to it doesn't react. he knows the relationship between the king and his son has been more than strained ever since the queen disappeared. some say she simply vanished, or left of her own volition, while other whispers claim she was instead captured by humans.

but after her disappearance the queen was never mentioned again, neither was the princes older brother, touya, when he disappeared not long before his mother did. the mere mention of them was forbidden, it was wiser to act is if they never existed in the first place.

izuku shakes his head and quickly swims up to follow the dual haired prince, who'd started swimming off in front of him.

both men finally rise up to shore. izuku hides besides a rock protruding from the sea floor while shoto decides to be a little bolder, peeking up to his chest from where he's perched up on the rock as well.

"ah ! shoto, you shouldn't !" izuku warns, but he simply shakes his head "it's fine, no one's here at this time of day." his eyes never leaving the sand in front of them, surveying the area like a hawk. he purses his lips. maybe he had been too late after all. he'd have to wait until tomorrow.

until he spots a mass of fluffy grey and white hairs. both he and izuku shrink back at the sound of a loud booming bark, shoto not as far sunk as izuku. then his gaze locks on to someone walking along with the furry beast.

a human.

the green haired merman has half a mind to warn his friend they should make their leave, however the young man is unmoving, seemingly entranced.

shoto breathes a sigh of relief, you've shown up at last.

it's usually at this hour that you walk along the beach with your companion. shoto's been watching you for a little while now and he's determined a routine. some days you stay longer than usual, but he's content to see you anytime, all the time. you're fascinating, the way you move around with those..legs of yours is something he can't his eyes off of. and you're breathtakingly beautiful to him, though is his father were to see you he's sure he'd think otherwise. he'd been told humans were hideous beasts, but he's never seen anything in all of the seas as beautiful as you in his years of living.

izuku snaps him out of his trance, urging him saying they should be on their way back lest the king get even more suspicious of both their absences. he wants to keep looking at you, forever if he could. part of him even wishes he could walk along the sand with you.

but he retreats after a final look to you, and dives back down towards his home, so far away from you.

he wished he'd never went back home though, when his father had decided to get on his last nerve yet again. constantly nagging, constantly berating him like he knew any better. lecturing him about how his behaviour was unacceptable for a future king.

he knows that, he's heard it all before. as he swims further and further away from home he wishes it could all just stop. this future king talk, the coronation. he wishes it could all just fucking cease.

and he wishes he could be with you above all else. you'd understand, you wouldn't nag him about his duties. hell, you wouldn't even have to know, you'd just see him for him. and that's all he wants.

if only, he wishes.

until he's being lured away by some sea creatures who for sure mean trouble, but they've intrigued him with promises of making his wishes come true. when he's suddenly faced with the sea witch, he knows he should get away and fast, making a deal with her was not advised if you cared for your own life.

..and yet, she says she can give him what he truly desires. and what he desires is a life where he doesn't have to gaze at you from afar. where he can only dream and wish for if only's.

and he can't turn back now.

it takes a lot longer to get used to the fact that you have a merman in your house. you've been glued to the tv in shock for an hour, not processing anything happening on it while the merman in question casually watches, munching on some candy you'd offered him when you'd first made it home.

it's funny, if you think about it a little bit. you're friendly with your coworkers yet not a single one of them has ever been to your house before. and now you've got a fucking mythical sea creature in sitting on your couch eating watermelon candies.

truly hilarious.

you catch a peek at him from the corner of your eye, you're surprised by how easily he's entertained, especially since he's only looking at an informercial but you think you can understand why now. why he seemed so confused, and maybe this was also why he can't talk ? but he could understand you perfectly.

god, your head hurt.

there's a weight against your skull and when you look up from your lap, the merman has his head pressed to yours. you hold back a squeal, because you are beyond tired of embarrassing yourself in front of him, a harsh intake of breath leaves you. he tilts his head at you, you've gotten good at de-cyphering what he means in the two hours you've known him. you sigh.

"i-i'm alright..thanks" you speak sincerely, his shoulders relax but he doesn't lean very far away from you, visibly comfortable being so close to you. "i'm just..in shock..i had no idea mermaids even existed..!" you chuckle, then quickly cover your mouth "merman, sorry !" he doesn't seem to mind, shaking his head with a barely there smile. it's a faint pull of his lips that could've been missed but you'd caught it and your heart hammers in your chest--were all mermen this pretty ?!

"well..um, i bet seeing a human up close like this is pretty surprising too ?" he nods and you laugh. "is it what you expected at least ?" he nods again, but it feels..softer, more personal. like it was directed at you and you only, for some reason. the close proximity between you both seems familiar.

you're everything he expected and more.

"do you..have a name ? ah !" you catch yourself quickly, running off to your room, not before telling him you'd be right back, you barely see him nod with widened eyes. you pull out a random book you left unfinished for..you don't remember how long now.

if he understood you speaking, maybe he could understand how to read ?

it's a possibility and you lose nothing by trying.

you're back next to him and place the book between you both, he leans in closer, inspecting the words on the page with an unreadable expression.

you tell him your name, and start spelling it out with the letters on the page. you hope it works, that'd make it a whole lote easier if it does, so you ask him for his name.

it takes him a second, but soon the dots start connecting, and he slowly points to five different letters

s-h-o-t-o

"shoto.." you sound out, you look back up at him. his face is soft and the small smile on your face makes you smile too "shoto ?" and he nods happily "it's nice, i like it." you admit, his eyes shine brightly and he points to you and nods. you think he's saying he likes your name too, so you thank him with a giggle and your hunch his confirmed when he smiles just a little wider, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

seriously are all mermen this pretty ? it's a little unfair that more mermen don't show up in town.

but you think even if they were to suddenly appear, you'd like shoto the best.

shoto seems to have superhuman abilities, besides the not being human part..

in only a week, he's learned how to write and you've been communicating by passing notes and using a white board you'd gotten him while you were out shopping, you figured it'd be easier and a little less confusing.

he's been here for two weeks now, and it's been fun. so fun in fact you forget he's not human with how easy he's adapted into your life. he goes shopping for and with you sometimes, he loves watching and he likes to take walks with max, the both of them being inseparable. you'd be a little jealous if it wasn't so damn adorable. you're still enjoying your break from work and shoto makes it much more enjoyable, it's nice to have someone else around for a change.

you've..talked, about a lot of stuff with shoto, but one thing he will not talk about is himself, and you've decided not to pry. especially because you hate seeing the conflicted, sad look on his face. he talks to you about his kind, and his friends, but never too much about himself. you don't pry, but it surprises you that even mermaids have baggage.

"is there anything you wanna do today, shoto ?" you wonder if he ever gets bored, he doesn't say anything about it, but you know you're not all that entertaining..maybe you'll take him go kart racing.

shoto stops petting max to grab at his white boards, quickly scratching something down.

can i watch a movie with you ?

your heart stutters. every time you suggest an activity for him to do he always adds you in it. it's stupidly endearing and makes him cuter than he already is.

"but don't you wanna do anything else ? " he tilts your head for you to continue "like..aren't you bored ? i know i don't do anything interesting...you don't wanna do something more exciting ?"

he blinks, and writes down something on his white board that has your mouth go dry.

i like doing anything because you do it with me.

"o-oh.." you mutter, fiddling with the texture of your couch, picking at it softly "that's nice.."

after a moment of quiet he presses his head to yours, as affectionate as ever to get your attention, you blink up at him holding up his whiteboard and a smile forms onto your face.

movie ?

you let him pick this time.

"if you want to be able to live with your beloved.. you must manage to do one thing.."

a kiss. a true love's kiss.

shoto has seen a lot of kisses in the few weeks he's been with you. he remembers the first kiss he'd received was when your elderly neighbour had knocked at your door thinking you were home while you were at the grocery store. she must've thought he was your mate, because she'd congratulated him and told him to treat you nice because you're a very sweet and pretty girl, which he'd intensely nodded at. she'd grabbed him by the shoulder and softly pressed both her cheeks to him, and you'd explained to him that she had kissed him as a sign of politeness. a common human courtesy.

he'd seen kisses on tv, kisses on the street, but none of them compared to the description of a true love's kiss. none of them felt fitting enough.

something on tv catches his eye. the movie has gotten to the climactic scene, a new term he'd learned. and the main love interests are desperately clinging to each other. their lips are touching, but it doesn't look like the kisses he's seen before..strange.

it confuses him, so he taps your shoulder and writes his thoughts down.

what are they doing ?

you clear your throat, your eyes widen. your eyes are so pretty. "they're kissing, shoto.. we've seen that before right ?"

but it looks different.

you hum in thought "well, i guess i can put it like.." you purse your lips in thought, you look so cute when you're deep in thought. "they love each other a lot, so being away from each other made them..um, do that. it's 'cus they care about each other alot..i think."

love..

have you done that before ?

you splutter as your eyes fly across the whiteboard, shoto shuffles so he can sit closer to you. you don't move away, you smell so nice.

"n-no..i don't think i've loved someone enough to.." you whisper, gaze flying from him to the small space between you both.

the sound of the white board dropping to the floor doesn't alarm you, neither does the way his hands slowly reach towards your cheeks. he does nothing but run his hands across your cheeks for a while, simply gazing at you. he presses his forehead to yours and you feel his breath his your face, your eyelashes flutter as his head softly bumps against yours. his nose nuzzles against yours, you're so soft.

you don't have to read anything to know what his eyes are asking you silently, you nod anyways.

shoto doesn't exactly know what love means by humans standards, but by his standards and the little he knows he thinks this might be it as he presses his lips to yours. it's not as desperate and dramatic as on tv, and there's no melodramatic music playing in the background.

but he loves this, he loves you.

you pull away when he presses you back against the couch, and suddenly something feels different. your chest feels warm. you feel loved.

"that..was nice..woah." you breathe, and shoto nods, mirroring the smile growing on your face. what you don't expect is for him to open his mouth and speak.

"it was.." he hums, your eyes are the size of saucers and he huffs out a light laugh "do you think..i could do that again with you ?"

you nod, in a trance, but as he leans in you grip his shoulders. he blinks up at you

"..wait, how long were you able to talk ?" you're unblinking, and it makes him chuckle lightly.

"just now." he answers simply, before you can ask more questions he stops you "i will explain later, i promise." he nuzzles his nose to yours "but for now.." he kisses your cheek "i'd like to learn about this..love feeling.with you." he kisses your other cheek, always adding you in "will you let me ? "

you're willing to let him do anything as long as he does it with you, as long as he keeps adding you in like you're the only one that matters, you want to keep mattering to him. and you want to learn more about your feelings too.

so you laugh, and with a smile, you pull him back into you.

a/n : eeeee i loved participating to this event theheheh ! tumblr quit deleting my drafts but i still had tons of fun ! hope yall enjoy reading MUAH MUAH !!

taglist ! : @queenpiranhadon @starieq @lovelyiida @lady-ashfade @angels-fantasy

@seonne @sweetnans @vexis-world @2melamoo2 @tootiecakes234

@4evapika

[barbieaemond]

The order of things

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: mild angst, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), grinding

Word count: 3k

Taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee @credulouskhaleesi @bunbunbl0gs @alphard-hydraes-blog

MASTERLIST

There is a raven that flies towards the rookery as soon as the sun is high enough to bathe the Keep in orange. It always comes at the same split minute, Aemond sees it every day, because it is the same split minute in which his training ends. Sometimes he even manages to get the better of the bird, then looks up as he sheathes his sword and awaits him. As soon as it crosses the sky he leaves the courtyard.

His day is like a prayer, devoutly tenacious and unchanging. A bath, breakfast, a flight on dragonback, a book. A visit to Helaena and the twins if the reading bores him.

Someone might say that even his walk is always the same. Rigour and order, to be everything Aegon is not.

This time, he disarms Ser Criston well in advance, so much that the raven has yet to show itself, and when it does, Aemond will be blind to his passing.

"Mother," he says curtly as the Queen passes by. She goes to pray as she does every morning, always at the same time. She too is a creature devoted to rigour, and duty; she has seized her days and clutched them in her fist to prevent them from floating through her.

She pauses to greet him, her voice as mellifluous as ever and her eyes just as warm, and then suddenly, he turns to look at her as if he is looking at a stranger, as if she is speaking a language he does not know. "I wanted to tell you that I'm going to see some girls today, to choose your new maid."

"What's wrong with my maid?"

"Well, I figured she might ask for a leave as the wedding approaches."

He blinks, he stalls, he bogs, unnaturally, the sand stops in the hourglass. The raven glides over the towers, unnoticed.

"Yes, of course." he says, sheathing his sword, and the sand flows again, grain by grain; the funnel shrunk.

Everything in his life is part of that rigour, even people, even her.

She has been in his service long enough to know without asking when the scar pulls to the point of requiring medication. She has been in his service long enough to know that a slight frown in his eyebrows is enough to make her close the curtains and prevent the light from worsening the pain in his head, to know that he likes his venison rather raw, that he hates that doublet because the sleeves are puffed and he feels like a court jester. And she tacitly made it disappear.

She does everything without uttering a word. She doesn't need to ask, she moves when he moves, she has adapted to him like a second skin, and she doesn't seem harmed by the edges.

Yet he is harmed by something, as she pulls off his boots in front of the fireplace. He sees a flat sea where he would like to see a storm. He sees grains flowing and wishes to crash the glass.

"Do you need anything else my Prince?" she has a seraphic expression on her face, and he sees deception. She speaks in a firm, devoted voice, and he hears betrayal.

He stares at her with the eye that looks like a needle, feels like it, then shifts his gaze to the fire and says "I will be in need of your assistance tomorrow, for the whole day."

"The whole day?"

"Yes. Why? Do you have something better to do than the duties you are paid for?"

She is no novice to his bitter tongue; somehow, stupidly, naively and recklessly, she is able to imbue it with treacle when it enters her head. It doesn't matter anyway, her foolishness will end as soon as she takes her vows.

"No. Of course not. I'll be at your service, my Prince."

"Hmm, until?"

"Until?"

"You should be the one to tell me. When is the wedding due?"

Her eyes widen like two large moons and she seems to crumple in on herself, on the floor she is kneeling on, under the Prince's unwavering, iron eye. She feels her throat tighten and yet his hands are steady along the armrests. She feels her lungs crackle against her ribcage. "I—"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Why didn't she?

"My prince, I thought your Grace should not be bothered with such trivial matters."

"I decide what to be bothered about." He says in an imperative tone. "When would you have bothered to inform me? Is this how you show loyalty to your prince? Keeping things from me?"

She glues her eyes to the floor, she cannot hold the Prince's gaze, not when he is like this, even though he has never been like this. He looks angry, he looks outraged? As if he has been wronged. That look makes her blood run cold, and then it melts in red down her cheeks and neck. It would be too easy to blame the chimney behind her back, easy but necessary, to keep things in order. Prince and servant, nothing more. What else is there?

There are heavy sighs falling in the dark, stranded between the sheets as his bones boil and tense at the climax, desire spilled, wasted. But that's fine. To not be all that Aegon is. This too has become rigour, part of the order of things.

It is the order of things to watch her kneel at his feet and wish to spill his desire into her mouth. As is seeing her nails always neat and tidy scratching the floor as her back arches against him, as is seeing the blood reddening her cheeks and neck, and wanting to lick it as far as it goes. 

Someone else will do it. An ordinary man of no consequence in the order of things, the real one.

"You may go." he says coldly, hoping the frost of his tongue will cool the feverish blood under his skin.

She rises from the floor with a bowed, desolate head. "I bid you good night, my Prince."

The next morning he asks her to change the sheets, and he turns his back on her, ashamed, as if she knows she is in those sheets.

He takes a bath while she does her chores, finishing exactly when he does, because she moves when he moves. She helps him put on a dark green robe, unperturbed by his nudity, because that is her duty and it no longer makes her blush.

There's never been clumsiness in her hands, but there is today. Aemond feels her hands heavy as boulders when she prepares the ointment for his eye, when she leans over him to remove his eyepatch. She doesn't speak to him as she always does, oozing that glimmer of amusement when she brings up the servants' petty feuds and wars.

"You're rather quiet today." He asserts later, as she buttons his doublet "Has the armistice been reached in the kitchens?"

She opens in a brief smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I don't know, Your Grace. I find myself spending a lot more time outside the Keep these days."

"Is that so?” He retorts, narrowing his eye “Hmm, is that why my books are still on the desk?"

She finishes her buttoning and ties her hands on her modest skirt. "I am sorry, Your Grace. I will see to it that they are put in order at once."

"I have no use for your apology. Why didn't you do it when I told you to?"

"Your mother gave me a leave for a few hours yesterday."

"And why did you ask my mother and not me? You are in my service, not hers."

She keeps looking down like a suspect on trial and swallows. "I went to Flea Bottom to buy some fabric for my wedding dress. I was ashamed to ask you for a leave for something so frivolous. As a woman, I thought your mother would understand."

"You will do no such thing in the future. Hide things from me and leave the Keep without my permission, or I'll have you punished. Am I being clear?"

"Your Grace, I…” she pauses, she looks down, she swallows, but it’s now or never. “You should know that I will no longer be here after the wedding. I am going to formally resign my position. Your Mother has already-"

His eye goes wide, and wild, and he breathes loudly until he is snarling. "Are you deaf or dense? Did you not hear me? You will not leave my service."

The moons in her eyes are full now. She looks at him, begging him to let her go, because that is the natural course of things. She will marry a common man, give him a couple of children and live a quiet life in the country, where her groom has a smallholding of land, their only source of wealth if they do not want a life of misery in Flea Bottom. And she is fine with that. She has accepted it. She is like any other common girl, she cannot dream, her blood is only red, there's no castle nor crown waiting for her.

She has accepted her fate with the calmness of a stream that lets itself be carried along by its current. She is happy like this, because as far as she could, in that silly way in which all ordinary girls dream, she dreamed, even though her dream is made of flesh and blood.

She had shivered when he had leaned over her when he taught her to read. She had breathed in deeply to know what he smelled like. She had felt ice in her stomach under his gaze when she read a few pages to him. And that is more than dreaming.

She cannot remain in his service, because she is an ordinary girl and more than dream, she cannot want.

"Your Grace..." she begs, going down to the floor "I beg you. Let me go my way. I believe I have always served you to the best of my ability and if I’ve ever failed you in something, name it. I will do anything to make it right."

Aemond bogs again, but in something far more paralysing and at the same time overwhelming than all his rigour. Perhaps it is the sight of her on her knees again, her head bowed and devoted, and the fact that he wants to touch that devotion, wants to taste it and swallow it.

Slowly, he lifts her chin with two fingers, eye blind to everything else; his thumb moves over her lower lip as if to know its edges, as if he has wanted to do this all his life.

"Anything?" he asks in the voice of another, the one stranded in the sheets.

She nods slowly, and the movement rubs his thumb against her teeth for a moment, forcing him to swallow, to give himself control, not to push his finger in. He is not Aegon, He is not Aegon, he is not Aegon.

"Would you be willing to please me?" he asks, and his question reaches some remote place in her, that place where a girl can dream and want freely. In that place, if he had asked once, twice, a hundred times, she would have bent to his will, not to the duty of the servant who must please her lord. Sure, that too. But first of all to her will. It is a question that need not be asked, for there is but one answer.

"Yes..."

Blood flows into her cheeks, breathing out fire from her lips. "How...? How do you want me to please you, my Prince?"

"With this..." he replies, pushing his thumb over her lip.

Her hands move fluidly over the belt and buttons of his breechers as if she had done this countless times before. She helps him dress, she knows his body even though she has never touched him. She has never touched a man in her life, not like this. Aemond reads the embarrassment on her cheeks and he basks in it with a glimmer of pride, because he will be the first.

Gently, he places a hand behind her head, tilting it a little, and looks at her with his heavy, clouded eye, enthralled. "Open your mouth..."

He knows she's never done this before, but the hot alcove of her mouth is enough to make him open his mouth and let out air in a broken cadence. She raises her eyes as if to ask if she is doing something wrong, and the sight, real and not the outcome of some delusion hidden in the dark, smothers his breath. He begins to thrust into her mouth slowly, hardening quickly as she continues to look at him and welcome him into her mouth with the devotion with which one kneels to the Seven.

"Gevie..." he pants hoarsely, brushing his fingers through her hair "You look more beautiful than I thought like this..."

His hand in her hair never tightens, though his hips move faster and the wet sound is the only one that keeps his panting company.

"Your cheeks..." he instructs her "Hollow your cheeks..."

And just as when he was teaching her to read, she listens , sucking agonisingly slowly. “Fuck—” he curses, threading his long fingers through her hair and pulling at the roots; he thrusts faster so that she has to grip his waist with her hands but when he senses she can’t breathe, he lets of her head and slips out of her scorching lips, hissing at feeling the cold air of the room.

She’s panting hard, with her mouth open and slick with him. But she has little time to catch a puff of air. He thrashes her on the carpet, with a rough kiss full of teeth and growls, and his hands move like talons, pulling her modest skirts up to her waist.

“No—My Prince—” she muffles on his mouth, pleading but desperate all together “We can’t—”

“I won’t ruin you, I promise.” he says rummaging through her garments “Just let me feel you this once—”

He finds her core with his large hand, hot and slick, and she whimpers loudly in his open mouth. “Do you get this wet for your groom, hmm? Or just for your Prince?” 

She unconsciously bucks her hips against his hand and he smiles, delightfully, against her neck, licking a stripe down her throat. “I’m in need of an answer, my sweet girl…” he says raising his head, the leather piece is about to fall behind his disheveled hair. “Have you touched yourself thinking of me?”

Shame washes over her as well as pride does him. “You did, didn’t you?”

His retrieves his hand and licks her off his fingers as if he was waiting for nothing else, staring at her with his eye pitch black.

“Do it.”

“M-my Prince?”

“Touch yourself. Now.”

She looks away, reddening even more, but he grasps her chin and forces her to look at him. “Do you want that permission to leave my service?”

It takes her a minute to swallow her shame, and then her hands is slipping between them. He pulls himself up on one arm to give her space to spread her legs some more, to watch closely as she starts to move her little hand on her bundle of nerves. “Look at me.” He commands, and she flutters her eyes with a bit of prudery before obliging.

Her breathing becomes heavy, just as his, slowly touching himself to mimic her, as he has done countless of times before but this is different. This is like the first time. He can watch her chasing her pleasure because of him, with him. He can watch the sweat beading her neck, her lip trembling. He can hear the sweet lewd sounds she makes for him.

She grows more desperate by the moment, swaying her hips on the carpet, grabbing his shoulder and neck until he falls on her. He groans upon feeling her cunt against his cock and by now they’re both too close to need hands anymore. He starts to grind against her, his hard flesh slicking ever so easily on her wetness, swallowing her whimpers and moans as he pants and rasps on her lips “Go on, sweet one. Come for me, hm?”

She does so, gripping his shoulders until digging her nails on the fabric, moaning with her mouth slack open.

He keeps grinding against her, frantic, panting, the eyepatch is somewhere on the ground and she watches him in the stupor of pleasure, like she’s experiencing a vivid dream, but the weight of the prince on her is real, his cock rubbing against her core making it twitch for more, his coarse voice as he rasps “Gods—‘M so close…” and then the jolt of warm seed on her belly.

He falls on her breathing hard, making her wince, but she can't find the strength to slip away, to pull down her skirt or move the long silvery lock that has gone into her mouth. She must leave everything as it is, and then leave it to be the ordinary girl without dreams.

For two days, her presence around the Keep is rather scarce, barely traceable in the Prince’s chambers. But his breakfast is always ready on his desk, his clothes always clean and well folded on the chair.

Aemond does not send for her nor does he seem to care where she is. He returns to his rigour, to his books, to his training as soon as dawn breaks.

One of the Kingsguard shows up in the courtyard and stands there to watch, waiting for the Prince to finish his duel.

"My Prince, I've done some research after our last conversation."

"Well?"

"Just as you said, your Grace. A modest cottage and a piece of land near Duskendale."

"Good." He says, sheathing his sword and glancing up upon hearing a distant caw. "I want you to send two city guards there, and burn it all down."

The guard blinks, widening his eyes. "My Prince?"

"You heard me."

The guard leaves and Aemond hears cawing again, closer this time. He glances up and the raven greets him, flapping his wings in the newborn sun.

Everything is in order.

[queers-gambit]

The Battle Above the God’s Eye

part one: Sands of Time

prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.

"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."

You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."

"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."

"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."

The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.

You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"

You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.

Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.

Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.

Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.

You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?

Soon, you found scat. For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.

So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.

You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.

Or perhaps even a distant one!

You'd take any sign!

It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.

How did the krill and shrimp season fair? What weddings happened this past spring? How was the irrigation system holding up?

Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.

Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.

And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.

You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.

A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.

Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.

You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.

The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.

Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.

Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.

Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.

"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"

"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"

"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"

"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"

Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."

"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."

"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."

"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."

"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."

You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"

"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."

Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "

"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."

"I see."

"He needs your help."

"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."

"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.

You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.

"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"

You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"

"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"

You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "

"I am telling you - "

"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.

In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.

On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...

Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.

"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.

You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.

You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.

The trip was draining.

It was grueling on you both.

Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.

Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.

With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.

The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.

"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.

"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"

"Harrenhal?"

She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"

"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."

You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"

"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."

"And if he was another Maegor?"

"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."

You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"

"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"

"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."

You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.

It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.

"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.

The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.

It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.

You were so close, yet felt so far.

The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.

The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.

You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.

As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.

Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.

Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.

Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.

You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.

"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"

You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."

Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.

"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."

"How? How is - how can this be?"

"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"

He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.

You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.

"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."

"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."

"Tell me what your flames say."

"Now you trust my flames?"

"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."

You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."

"And now?"

"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."

He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."

"We have."

"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."

Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"

"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."

You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"

The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.

She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.

Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.

You knew what he saw.

When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.

The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.

"Where will we go now?"

"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"

"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."

You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.

"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."

"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.

"How?"

"Nettles."

"What?"

"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."

"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "

"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."

"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."

"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."

"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "

"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."

He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"

"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."

"Why were you there?"

"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."

He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.

"Of what?"

"Your life since the Stepstones?"

"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."

"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"

This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.

When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.

"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."

"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."

"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "

"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."

"But I knew..."

"You knew what?"

"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."

"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "

"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."

"Now it's time to heal," you told him.

"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "

"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."

Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.

The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.

"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.

"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."

He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"

"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."

"Morning, Mistress!"

"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."

"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"

You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"

"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."

Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."

"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"

"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.

"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.

"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."

"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."

"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"

"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.

"Well, how about I introduce my family?"

"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.

"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.

"How?" You asked simply.

"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."

"Whores," the husband smiled.

"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"

"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "

"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"

"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."

"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.

And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

[mountkennedie]

Siren

Prince Caspian x mermaid!reader

Summary: Caspian goes on a late night stroll and gets intercepted by a mermaid

warnings: none

The reader has long hair, other than that, there aren't any character descriptions

A.N. I have been thinking about this so much over the past few months omg

Being a prince, Caspian had many responsibilities. But being a human, he needs to escape from those duties from time to time. What seemed to calm his mind the best was a late night stroll of the coast of Cair Paravel.

Due to the full moon, the sands glitter in a way no gem could ever replicate. He thought the only thing that could compliment the beauty of the sparkling sands was the illuminated water. Just standing there, Caspian felt the stress lifting off his body. The salty sea air was always something he was a fan of. The feeling of its breeze through his hair only made the entire scene that much better.

There were some rocks along the coastline. He would normally not pay them any mind. However, when an unusual sound emitted from them, his head whipped around. His eyes scanned to find a pair looking back at him.

He drew his sword immediately, pointing it at the creature. "Who are you," he questioned. All sorts of things can exist in the lands of Narnia, and anything that would be out at such an hour is one of suspicion. Especially one that already had its eyes set on him.

The creature shied behind the rock. From a different angle, she peered back at him. The moonlight glazed her skin in an ethereal glow, and before the prince realized, he had taken a few steps towards her. "Call me, Y/n."

Her voice was smooth and soft. He felt himself begin to drift away in it. He took yet another step closer, now only a yard or two from the rock she hid behind. With grace and caution, she climbed the large stone until she reached the top. She rested on her forearms, now at eye level with the prince.

Caspian's eyes took in the new view of her. She wore nothing on her upper half, relying solely on her flowing hair to cover her frame. His breath began to shallow, never in his life had the prince seen a woman in such an ease of wardrobe. He used his extensive self-control to bring his focus back to her eyes. And her eyes were another pool to fall into. Everything about this mysterious woman was holding him captive, and he could not figure out why. Nor did he want to put up any resistance.

"And yours?" She spoke once again in a voice of velvet. He almost didn't register that she said anything at all.

"Hmm?" He hummed. In any other context, he knew it would be rude to simply hum instead of coming up with the words to say what he meant. But in this moment, his brain was taking on more and more fog with every second he was near her. He was not focused on being the well-mannered prince as he always was.

The woman smiled, "Your name, dear sailor."

"Oh, yes," his voice was breathy. The smile she provided him only worsened his condition. The fog in his mind had crept to the rest of his body. He hadn't even realized he was up against her rock. "Caspian. And I'm not a sailor, I'm a prince." Every word that he could conjure came spilling from his lips. He wanted her to speak again, smile again, anything. It was astonishing how quickly she had gotten him under her finger.

"A prince." She maintained her smile as she reached a hand out and touched his chest. "I would have thought as much. You wear the finest of leathers." Her hand stayed on his chest. And he made no effort to remove it.

He hummed again in response. He wore a smile on his face that proved how removed he was from sanity. She moved her hand up over his heart, his hand came and met her there. The warmth of his palm sealed her to him.

"Would you like to see the rest of me, dear prince?" She spoke in a whisper. He only nodded in response. She smiled once again and lifted her tail out of the water. She allowed herself to wrap a bit around the rock to make sure the moon made her scales shimmer.

He gasped, and she looked back at him. At first, I was nervous that she had scared him off. But he only stared. His eyes soon traveled back up to hers, and his pupils were completely blown. She knew she had him.

"You are most beautiful," his voice was airy. His breath steadied, and his eyes were trained on hers. With her other hand, she placed it on the right side of his face. He leaned into the touch and, for a moment, allowed his eyes to shut.

"As are you, dear prince."

How it happened was simple. She held onto him as she descended the rock. Held his hand from the shallow water, deeper and deeper. Until the water was too high for his feet to hit the bottom. And before she dragged him to the depths, an idea of mercy came to mind. He was a prince and a handsome one at that. Maybe something could brew between them. So she kissed him and filled his lungs with the new ability to no longer rely on air. Then, drug him down underneath the waves.

[the-broken-truth]

The Prince's Precious Brother [1] - Leona Kingscholar [Platonic Yandere] [Male Yuu]

Summary: Sixteen years ago, Leona experienced a tragic loss that changed him forever. His newborn brother, Feore Kingscholar, was taken away and declared dead, causing him immense pain that he carried with him throughout his entire life. However, everything changed when he arrived at Night Raven College and met Yuu Arisugawa - The Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm. During Crewel's Class, a secret was revealed, and Leona decided to reclaim what was rightfully his. He was determined to do it at any cost, and no one would be able to stop him without facing the consequences.

[Savanaclaw Dormitory - Leona's Dorm - Before Classes]

The sound of a crying infant, yelling voices, and horses going wild, along with hooves faded into the distance in Leona's ears causing them to lay flat on the surface of his head as his fists gripped the blanket covering his body, his eyes tight as the vivid images appeared under his closed eyelids, his eyebrows twitched with every single negative emotion that filled his heart as a cold sweat stained his dark skin; his teeth were locked in a snarl as a growling whimper escaped through his locked teeth, tears leaking through the small cracks of his eyes as he twitched and turned his head against his pillow as his body attempted to get comfortable.

"No... No... Don't do this... Don't leave me... Don't take him away from me!" Leona whimpered as the tears flowed down his face, his heart was pounding against his chest as a vivid image flashed in his subconscious: 2 Horses running along the desert of the Afterglow Savana with 2 cloaked figures riding upon their backs, one of the figures carrying a small bundle wrapped in a white blanket; the bundle crying its lungs out as it faded away into the desert night. A small hand reached out for the horse but they were too far away and getting further with every passing second.

"Don't leave me!" His 4-year-old voice cried out as tears flowed from his green eyes as they mixed into the sand of his homeland. "DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!!! YOU'RE ALL I HAVE!!! COME BACK...!"

"FEORE!!!" Leona roared out in sorrow as his eyes shot open and his hands shot up toward the ceiling as if he were back at that moment in time; the tears finally leaking upon the pillow under his head as the slow realization of what was going on slowly started to become clear.

A Dream.

Just a dream.

Leona lowered his hand and placed it on his chest as he attempted to calm his panicked heart; memories could hold some of the best moments in your lives and you would want to relive them as much as you can, however, there are also the moments were the worse pains that scar your brain. This was the case for Leona Kingscholar - The Second Prince of the Sunset Savana. He turned his head to look at the calendar on his wall, the date caused his heart to break once again.

June 7th

'No wonder these memories are starting to plague me now... It's his birthday and the day he was taken away from me.' Leona thought as he placed his hand over his face, he sat up in his bed while looking through the cracks of his fingers, 'What happened to you, My Darling Brother?' Leona closed his eyes as the memories flowed through his mind back to that moment in his life: On this day 16 years ago - the day the Second Prince's Heart Grew Cold.

A 4-year-old Leona Kingscholar stood in the doorway with his elder brother, Falena, while their father spoke to their mother, who was currently sitting on her bed with a small bundle in her arms as she and her husband smiled at it. The mother looked in the direction of the boys and gestured for them to come into the room, Leona was the first to enter and looked at the bundle in his mother's arms: The child looked just like Leona did when he was younger but the tips of his hair had white tips; The King once told Leona and Falena that one of the past kings possessed a vast amount of magi and could use it without a wand had a head of snow white hair with blue tips. Leona looked down at the infant and wondered if his new brother would have the same amount of vast power his ancestor possessed; the thought of the two of them fighting together to protect their kingdom filled him with joy.

However, that happiness and joy were shattered throughout the kingdom when the shadows consumed the land and the full moon rose.

Leona was finding it hard to sleep, he was too happy; he was an elder brother, and he finally had someone to look up to him, someone who would see his worth better than his brother, parents, or kingdom ever could. He wanted to be near Feore and left his room before walking down the hall to reach Feore's Nursery when the cries of the infant caused him to pick up his pace until he opened the door to his brother's room, his heart froze and anger filled his veins at the sight before him.

There were 2 figures, sporting all-black garments and concealed by masks, and the larger of the figures was holding the crying 3rd Prince in his large hands.

"Get your hands off my brother!" The 4-year-old prince roared as he pulled his dagger from behind his back and charged at the men who held his brother captive. He pounced on the smaller figure and started jabbing his dagger downward but the figure was using his arm to protect his face; Leona only managed to cut his arm and left a few deep wounds that would later become scars before the larger man used his free hand, grabbed Leona by the back of his nightshirt and flung him across the room until he crashed into Feore's Dresser by the door. Leona groaned as pain radiated throughout his back while the men attempted to leave through the window with the small child, however, Leona wasn't gonna let them get away with what belonged to him.

Leona rose to his feet just as the guards entered the room to see the men jumping over the ledge with Feore, Leona roared the order to find them and get Feore back while he ran in the same direction and went over the ledge in hot pursuit; he didn't care about the fall damage, all he wanted was his brother back.

Leona ran after them until they reached the gates of the kingdom where two horses were waiting for them, they mounted the horses and attempted to ride away but Leona lunged at the larger man and started clawing at his face in order to get his mask off, but it wasn't coming off, then he tried to reach for his crying brother but was grabbed by the man's large hand and pushed away from the infant. Leona hissed in anger as he was thrown off of the moving horse and landed in the sand as the horses got further and further away.

Feore got further and further away.

Leona tried to get up and follow them but the fall twisted his angle, all he could do was kneel there and hold his hand out with tears in his eyes as the horse and men who had his brother disappeared into the darkness; never to be seen again.

The King of the Sunset Savana declared Feore Kingscholar, 3rd Prince of the Sunset Savana, dead one week after the search parties failed to find anything about his whereabouts or anything regarding the man who took him; all they had was the blood on Leona's Dagger and that was little to no help at all. Leona wasn't the same after his father declared his younger brother dead so easily and his heart grew cold and distant. When he wasn't studying or training, he was in Feore's Nursery until his father had the servants toss out everything in the room to free up the space; the only thing Leona was able to save was a small lion plushie that he had gifted his brother on the day of his birth - it was the only thing he had of Feore.

Leona looked at the small plushie in his massive hand before placing a small kiss on its forehead; wishing his younger brother a happy birthday wherever he might be; he knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep, so he decided to go to his classes. I knew he had Crewel's Class with the Herbivore and his friends; something interesting might happen that would take his mind off of everything. He placed the plushie on his bed before getting up and getting dressed before Ruggie decided to burst into his room and brother him; he was not in the mood for the Hyena's Antics this morning.

[In Crewel's Class]

Leona couldn't be any more uninterested in the things the teacher was talking about; he thought coming here would help him take his mind off his brother but it was only making it harder to stay away. Leona's keen hearing picked up on the sound of the Herbivore grunting in pain and irritation while the cat who went by the name Grim scratched at the boy's right side of his upper back. The boy was clearly trying to be quiet with it but Crewel picked upon it.

"Mr. Arisugawa! Is there a reason you are scratching your back like a pup with fleas while I am attempting to teach my class?" Crewel asked, causing everyone to look in Yuu's Direction.

"Please, forgive me, Mr. Crewel; I'm not trying to be a disturbance but I cannot help it, my birthmark is giving me a very hard time on this day." Yuu said.

"Your birthmark is giving you a hard time? What are you talking about, Puppy?" Crewell asked.

"It has been itching and burning ever since I woke up this morning; which is strange because it never bothered me this much before. It literally feels like it's on fire right now and I can't get it to stop no matter what I do." Yuu explained.

"Show me this birthmark of yours, Puppy." Crewel said.

Yuu rose from his seat and walked over to Crewel before turning his back to him and lifting the back of his shirt to show his teacher the marking on his back; the teacher looked confused before a small smirk appeared on his face.

"I see your issue, Puppy; this is not a birthmark, this is a containment seal." Crewel said, causing everyone in the class to look interested.

"What is a Containment Seal, sir?" Yuu asked.

"A Containment Seal - also known as a Concealment Seal - is a marking that is used to hide something about the person it is imprinted on; it could be used to seal someone's magic or true appearance away, those are the two most common ways they are used. From the looks of the glow, whatever is within this seal is trying to force its way out and that is what is causing your aggravation." Crewel explained.

"Does this mean there is a possibility that Yuu is actually from this world and possesses magic of his own?" Riddle asked from his seat; this caused Leona to raise an eyebrow with interest. There was more to his Herbivore than he knew?

"There could be a possibility but I must know something, Mr. Arisugawa. You claimed this seal hasn't been bothering you, it only started today and it was giving you pain; is there anything special about today that would cause this?" Crewel asked Yuu, who thought for a while before answering.

"Well, today happens to be my birthday." Yuu answered & Leona's ears perked up at the sound of this: This Herbivore had the same birthday as Feore and could have magic sealed away in his body. What the hell was going on?

"Happy Birthday, Puppy. Now, we need to undo this seal and see what is under it if we want to stop your pain. Remove your shirt and sit on the stool while I get a Reveal Elixir." Crewel said as he walked over to his cabinet and searched through his potions until he came back with a small vial containing a glowing blue liquid; Yuu removed his shirt and sat on one of the high stools with his back turned to the class. "Now, there is a chance this will burn even more but I need you to be a brave puppy for me and bear with me for a moment."

"Yes, Sir." Yuu said before he placed his hands on his knees and closed his eyes. Crewel opened the vial and poured the liquid directly on the seal and the effect was instantaneous. Yuu roared in pain as the seal started to melt into the ink that was used to craft it and flowed down his back but the pain was coming from within as a white magical aura surrounded him and he fell to his knees as the magic started taking over him. Soon enough, the magi swirled around him to the point he was no longer visible; everyone covered their faces as the winds coming from the magic attempted to blow them all away before the magic died down and flowed away and Yuu stood up, completely different.

He was no longer human. He was a Beastman - A Lion Beastman! What was more, he looked just like Leona, just shorter with shorter hair and blue eyes; not to mention the white tips on his hair. Yuu looked at his new form as his fingers were ignited with white magical family; everyone started asking questions as to what the hell was going on but Leona slowly stood from his chair and walked over to Yuu, looking at the boy with tear-filled green eyes.

"Senpai? Are you alright?" Yuu asked; he didn't get an instant answer but an answer nonethelss as Loena lunged at him and wrapped his arms around him, shocking everyone in the room, "Leona-senpai, what are you doing?!"

"It's you... It's really you... Everyone thought you were killed that night, but I knew better; I knew that I was going to find you one day and now I finally have. It's been so long and we've been apart for so long but all of that is going to change; Big Brother is here for you now, Feore." Leona sobbed, causing the students, Crewel, and Yuu to have the same reaction.

"WHAT?! I'M/YUU'S/MR. ARISUGAWA IS A KINGSCHOLAR?!!!"

[tightjeansjavi]

From Eden | AU Pirate! Joel Miller x Mermaid f! Reader

A/N: at long last, we have arrived. This fic was totally self indulgent for me as mermaid lore and pirates has always been a huge interest for me ever since I was a child (I blame pirates of the Caribbean) this is my first time dipping my toe in fantasy writing, but I am so excited to share this with you all. 🏴‍☠️🖤

~word count: 6.6k~

Summary: a prince with a desire for a new life, endures on a journey he’ll never forget. A journey that ends with you by his side always.

Warnings: angst, swearing, implicit smut, ambiguous ending that leads the reader to decide what has become of Joel, mentions of drinking, mild violence, awful mothers/fathers, arranged marriages, pirate talk, death, grief, magic, fantasy, mermaid lore, old English (that may or may not be historically accurate) reader has no physical description, no use of y/n minors dni! (+18)

The sea calls to me, mother. It beckons me. The salty breeze whispers my name. Do not fret where I have ventured. Tis be only in vain. Mourn me not for my departure. I will not live a life I wish not to live. I desire adventure and friendship. I do not wish to be pacified by marriage, and the duties forthcoming with it. I disdain the thought of growing old and grayed without discovering what the world has to offer. I will bear you no grandchildren, and our lineage will wash away with the tide. Pity me not, for I pity you. Leave thou tears unshed, for I will not shed my own in the thought of you.

-J.M 1721

On the eve of Joel’s wedding, under the flickering soft glow of candlelight, the husband-to-be dipped his feather quill lightly into the ink reservoir. He pondered what words would flow onto the parchment resting below his palm. The seconds ticked by as he sealed his destiny in ebony ink. Annabeth would find better. Someone more suitable for her mundane needs. Joel would not be her husband, she would not become his wife.

“My lady, does your mind ever drift and dream of faraway adventure? Does your heart not shriek in the darkest of night for more than these measly castle walls have to offer?” He gingerly took her hand in his own, fighting the bile that rose in his throat as his eyes drifted down to the ring presently shimmering on her finger. The ringer he dutifully betrothed her with.

“My prince, my only wish is to be your dutiful wife and bless you with as many sons and daughters my body can carry. Tomorrow brings new beginnings. In the evening light we shall be married, and you will bed me as you please. Is this no longer what you desire? My prince, what has become of thee?” The backside of her dainty hand rested upon his forehead for she was afraid he had come down with a delirious fever.

“Annabeth, my flower, I wish to see the world. I wish to know what lies beyond the steady horizon. To taste the sea upon my lips, to clench the sand beneath my palms. You speak of me as your prince, but I wish to not be addressed as one. I do not wish to bed thee.”

“Thou speaks evil upon thy tongue. My prince, oh how you wound me so. I wish not to be in a loveless marriage with a man who yearns for the caress of the sea. Why must your heart and mind wander? Why must you disobey your mother’s wishes? Have I not devoted myself to thee?”

A heavy sigh through the evening breeze. Joel’s forehead came to rest upon her bosom as his lashes fluttered shut. “Dearest Annabeth, thou hast not lived in happiness. Thou has lived by her mothers law since thou was just a babe. How cruel that you are expected to marry not out of love, but for status. Dost thou truly want to live a life imprisoned by marriage?”

She wept silent tears for she did not want to be married to a man that did not love her. She did not want to bear his children. She had dreams of a life far richer. Far away from silver platters, incessant lectures, and garments far too tight to breathe in. Her chin fell to rest upon his head as salty tears rolled down her cheekbones.

“My prince, I have always dreamed of becoming a poet. Mother disapproves. She believes that women cannot be anything but wives and mothers. I do not wish to bear children. It is expected of me, but I loathe it.”

Joel chuckled, pressing a kiss to the soft skin between the valley of her breasts where a smooth silver pendant lay. “Thou mother is an impudent cunt.” She giggled softly at his quick tongue.

her fingers threaded themselves through his hair, twisting ringlets mindlessly. “Mother would have thy tongue for use of such foul language.”

He snorted. “Dost thou disagree? Annabeth, it is just you and I in the gardens this evening. No one shall reprimand thee for speaking the truth.”

“My mother is a foul, loathsome, impudent cunt.”

“Recite it again, my flower.”

“My mother is a cunt.”

“Encore” he hummed.

“My mother is a cunt. I detest this all-too tight dress, and I do not desire to marry thee.”

“Bien joué, ma fleur”

“My prince, I thought thou despised French studies?” She pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“Oui, mon chéri.”

She sighed, soft and gentle as she laid back into the soft cooling grass, gazing up at the glittering sky above. Joel followed her body, resting the side of his head in the lap of her flowy fabric dress.

“My prince, where will thou venture?”

“Tortuga, my flower. There I will be a prince no more. My lineage will fall as my mother weeps, and I shall step into piracy, and sail the high seas just as I have always dreamed.”

“Thou wishes to become a pirate?” She queried.

“Indeed. Tis true, my flower.”

“Thou shall make a handsome pirate.” She softly giggled, gently stroking his soft curls that she would admittedly miss terribly when he would depart.

“Just as thou shall make a brilliant minded poet.” He assured her.

Dark maroon wax dripped languidly along the pale parchment. Joel sealed the letter with a practice hand. His heart raced within the depths of his ribcage as the realization set in that he would be a prince no more. No more pretentious royals, no more stingy small talk, no more ballroom dances, no more lectures.

Joel Miller was to be a free man for the first time in his 17 years of life. The dying candle along his desk was blown out as the smoke curled and lingered. Below his window and past the looming castle walls, Joel could hear the sea whisper his name. In a giddy haste he packed his necessities in a leather bag. He took one last gaze over his room before departing into the ominous night.

His midnight black steed was steady under the saddle as the moonlight guided their way to the port docks. They rode swiftly and silently through the cobblestone city streets. Moving through the shadows with a soft squeeze of his inside leg to spur Hendrix forward. Joel’s horse was one of his prized possessions. A jet black colt with a tiny star being his only white marking. He would be saddened to never see his hooved companion again.

He could taste the salty sea air along his taste buds as the crescendo of crashing waves neared. With a soft tug on the reins, Hendrix slowed to a steady walk along the dock. He was so close to freedom. It was there, in his grasp as he discarded the hood of his cloak around his shoulders. Joel had studied many books on ships and how to maneuver one. It was frowned upon by his mother, so for this reason he’d sneak out late at night and find himself enriched in the library on the east end of the castle. It was now or never for him to put his knowledge learned under a real test. So much for trial and error.

“My prince?” The old sailor hobbled from the shadows of the creaky dock. A lantern trembling in his weathered grip. A quizzical expression crossed his sagging features as he watched Joel dismount from his steed.

“Thou shalt not speak of what thy has seen. I offer my horse in trade for your ship. Hurry please, my fellow. Before they become aware of my untimely departure. I have gold to offer thee as well. My horse can carry you wherever thy desires to wander.” Joel uttered, urgency stricken in his tone.

“My prince..is thee not set to be married in the morn? What use do you have for my ship lad?”

“Good fellow, I simply wish to leave the life I once knew and explore the world and all she has to offer.” He pulled out a sack of gold coins from under his cloak. “All I ask of thee is to speak to no one. Take care of my horse. He’s a good steed, and I shall miss him dearly.”

“Aye, adventure calls thy name?” The sailor pocketed the gold and grasped the smooth leather reins in his palm. “Best be on your way then, laddie. Your steed will be in good hands.”

“Bless you, sir. I wish you good fortune in your days to come.” He gently patted Hendrix along his silky smooth neck. “I shall miss you, my dear friend.”

Just like that, Joel Miller was no longer a prince. His name held a title no more. The tide pulled him out further, and further as he let out a sound filled with glee. A ship of his own to sail the high seas, what a pirate's life f’me.

In the far off distance, Joel could faintly hear the panicked bells ring. The prince was found to be missing from his bed chambers. Where had he gone? No one except Annabeth and an old sailor knew the truth of the prince’s disappearance.

Being a pirate was not all it cracked out to be. Well, in the first few years of entering piracy. His hair had grown longer, longer than it had ever been. It was speckled with sea salt and curled at the nape of his neck. The curls were unruly both from the sea, and maidens that enjoyed tugging on the strands with slender fingers. His once clean shaven face had grown into a patchy beard. The whores he bed didn’t seem to mind how it would scratch the apex of their thighs as he went to town on their pulsing cunts. He felt far more like that of a man with his facial hair. Oh the horror his mother would feel if she were to know of how her once proper, budding son became a frequent customer at one of Tortuga’s many brothels.

He always paid in gold handsomely. It drew the eyes of company that he did not wish to partake in. He was strong, sure and able to fight without breaking a sweat but as soon as a pistol was pulled and he had yet to obtain one, he quickly realized he would not be coming out of this altercation unscathed. He did however get a few good punches in before ultimately handing over the gold coins he kept on his person.

He thought he had the opposing pirates out-fooled by keeping a stash of his gold back at the inn room he inhabited..until he returned later that evening to find his room ransacked and his gold stolen. So be it, he thought. At least they didn’t take the rum.

That’s how he presently found himself in a drunken stupor, wandering the streets, getting into more fights than he could count until a fellow pirate took pity upon him one early morning…

A swift kick to his gut from a heavy boot sent Joel coughing up the rum that was still sloshing in his stomach. He groaned, reaching for his pistol but it was knocked from his grasp and landed a few feet away.

“Get yer ass up laddie.” A gruff voice spoke above him.

“Who the fuck are you—”

Another swift kick had Joel scrambling to sit up as he finally grasped his pistol and cocked it at the intruder. “I suggest ye fuck off back to wherever ye came from.” He growled under his breath.

“Yer drunk, matey. Ain’t gonna get a clear shot even if ya tried.” The older pirate crouched down to his level with a low chortle.

“What’s it to ya?” Joel snarked back.

“Ye got a ship lad? A crew?”

“Aye. I have a ship..I do not possess a crew. Do ye not have a ship? What kind of pirate doesn’t have his own ship?”

“Lost ‘er at sea I’m afraid. Ye have a ship, but be needin’ a crew. I can provide the crew if ye provide the ship, savvy?”

Joel was weary of the older pirate’s offer. He had preferred to sail the seas alone but considering his current state..what more did he truly have to lose?

“Ye have a deal.” He nodded in agreement.

“Smart lad ye be.” He helped the younger pirate to his feet, clapping him on the back stiffly.

Joel had become a seasoned pirate in a short period of time under the guidance of the older pirate. When he passed of old age, Joel became the captain. His ship and crew echoed through the Mediterranean channel. He felt that he had become unstoppable. Driven with greed and the desire for more, he led his crew to their watery grave too soon.

“Captain! She’ll never fit through! You’re goin’ to kill us all!” His secondhand warned him as they steadfastly approached shipwreck cove.

“Aye, she’ll fit! Have I ever let thee down?” His grip along the helm was steady and true.

“No sir, thee have not!”

“Hold ‘er steady boys!” Joel’s confidence wavered when he faced the cold hard truth that his ship would not fit through the rocky channel. He turned the helm sharply to avoid a collision but he was too late, the bow struck true.

“Abandon ship! Abandon ship—” his men yelled in a panic.

a deafening boom

flames

blood curdling screams of his frightened men being dragged down to Davy Jones Locker.

blood oozed from a gash along Joel’s eyebrow as he struggled to pull himself up to his feet. His ears were ringing as he took in the sight before him. Everything in his sight was burning. The wood creaked and groaned as the growing flames licked at his skin. This was the first in many moons that Joel truly felt terrified. He dove into the depths below, using the strength he had left to swim to the nearest shore.

He swore through the murky waters that he caught sight of shimmery scales..a swishing fin. Or perhaps it was his deluded mind playing a trick on him. Mermaids were just old wives tales after all. Creatures of the depths that woo men to their watery graves with alluring songs and seductive beauty.

He struggled to breach the surface as exhaustion seeped into his veins. His lungs screamed for air as he fought against the strong current with everything he had left in him. Suddenly, everything went black.

As a young mermaid you were taught to fear men, whether their ships carried white sails, or black. All men were to be feared. Your father forbade you and your sisters from ever making yourselves known to the surface world. It was too risky especially with the uprising of pirates. Your sisters like to toy with lone sailors lost at sea. They used their beauty and their natural talents of song to lure their victims to the depths.

Their song was melodious, angelic, and addictive; it was almost as if the men were under a trance and unable to escape your sister's snares. It was all a game to your sister’s of course. When your father caught wind of what your sister’s were doing in the pitch black of the night, he encouraged it.

You had no interest in drowning men. You had no reason to cause harm to another being that had inflicted no harm to you. Why couldn’t men and mermaids live in peace?

You spotted the ship crash into the rocky channel from afar. You saw frightened men jump into the sea, thinking that they would survive to see another sunrise..till your sisters dragged them to where the sunlight never reaches. Ripping them limb from limb to become mere fish food.

You witnessed the last body to hit the water from the safety of a looming sponge coral. You watched his arms struggle to pull himself to the surface, desperately clawing for air. When he gave in to what he believed to be his fate, and his body began to sink like deadweight, you made the split second decision to save this man. You swam as fast as you could, gliding through the water as you wrapped your arms around his torso and swam towards the light.

He was heavier in the water, but you were strong willed, and determined to save his life. When you breached the surface the man in your steady grip made no signs of life as you swam to the shore and hauled his body along the wet sand. You discovered that he was quite handsome, with hair that fell in ringlets, and soft pillowy lips that paired with a strong aquiline nose.

This man, pirate or not, was stunning.

Your hand gently came to rest along his cheek, feeling the stubble along his patchy beard lightly prick your skin like a sea urchin. You checked his body for injuries in a haste. Your fingers gently pushed back his hair to find the gash along his forehead. It ran fairly deep into his brow line, while crimson blood continued to trickle down his face only to be washed away by the gentle waves along the shoreline. The sea had healing properties as you knew, and the many plants that dwell below the surface were rich in nutrients, and could heal even the deepest of wounds.

You worked quickly as your fear of the man waking up was becoming prevalent when you observed his dark lashes fluttering and his body twitch. You gathered up a bit of seaweed that was used to heal open lacerations on the skin's surface. You delicately lay a strand of seaweed across his dripping brow. The blood clotted as the miracle plant adhered to his broken skin like glue. Magic, or science? The world may never know.

Your eyes zoned in on the pooling of blood through the once white linen of his shirt. There was a stray fragment of splintered wood sticking out from his side. The intrusion went fairly deep and it would require a little more work.

“Oh, fiddlesticks. I’m deeply sorry, sir. If you can hear me, I’m afraid this is going to hurt a tad.”

Am I dreaming..or is that a maiden's voice?

I must be dead, for I have never heard a voice tis so soft and sweet sounding.

With a small huff you grasped the end of the jagged wood and gave it a firm yank.

Your jolly sailor bold let out a deep gravelly wheeze as his hand subconsciously went to clutch at his side. More seaweed was gently laid upon his open wound and when you were satisfied that beautiful man would not bleed out upon the sand, you turned your body to head back to the sea.

With a flip of your shimmery tail you disappeared under the waves surface, and back to the depths of your home. You didn’t wander far as your own curiosity got the best of you. You hoped that your jolly sailor bold would awake to see another day. Perhaps your sisters and father wouldn’t send a search party for you. Perhaps they would believe you to be crushed by the bow of the ship. For now, you waded in the coral reefs below the surface to patiently wait.

Joel awoke suddenly in a disarray to his surroundings. All he could remember was his prized ship crashing into the rocky channel, his men’s frightened screams, and then everything went to black. How did he end up on the shoreline? Did he swim?..The current was far too dangerous to tread. The waves would knock him down..did someone save him? Or, was it something?

He slowly rose to a sitting position as he tried to rack his brain for any missing important details. His head turned to the side as he glanced down at the apparent indentation along the wet sand. Someone was with him. An Angel? No, it could not be. Joel wasn’t a religious man by any means. Besides, why would an Angel help a pirate such as he?

“‘Must be dreamin’”, he concluded. “Or I’m really dead. Dead as a man can ever be. Forever lost at sea.” His fingers reached up to brush his hairline where he felt a dull pain. He expected to feel the coolness of blood on his skin instead he was met with a strange slimy, yet soft texture. His hand reached down to his side where the splintered wood had been wrenched from and he was met with the same feeling.

“Blimey. What Devil’s work be this?” He twisted his body to get a better look at the wound on his side. His eyes widened the slightest when he saw the seaweed adhered to his skin. Upon closer inspection, the plant was very much still alive, and he could see the tendrils weaving together slowly acting as a suture.

Confused, and ridden in exhaustion, his body flopped back down along the sand with a soft thump. He was unsure how many hours he had slept under the gentle sway of palm trees, and the steady sea kissing at his feet. When he awoke it was due to a voice he had heard. A whisper through the thick vegetation that lay a few yards behind him. It was the same soft voice from earlier. A woman’s voice; the most beautiful voice had ever touched his undeserving ears.

Struggling to his feet, he staggered towards the voice, and used the sturdy bases of the palm trees to balance him. His body was still fairly weak, but he’d be damned if he didn’t meet the maiden that possessed such a sweet sounding tune.

As he drew nearer, the voice became clearer and easily detectable. Oh, it was so beautiful. Chillingly beautiful. It would be fairly easy for a man to be driven into madness from hearing a song so saccharine.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal

My happiness attend him wherever he may go

From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I'll wander, weep and moan

All for my jolly sailor, until he sails home

He followed your voice till he was greeted by the lagoon tucked away in the jungle. The water was crystal clear and below there were all kinds of coral and sea life thriving. What he was first to take notice of was the fair maiden that laid basking along a smooth damp rock. He could only see your upper torso that appeared to be covered by shimmering silk that wrapped around your breasts like drifting seaweed. His lips parted in surprise as he had never laid his eyes upon a maiden so stunning in his lifetime.

A twig snapped under the weight of his boot as he crept closer. You had not caught wind of your jolly sailor bold till your keen ears detected the sound of a twig snapping. It was enough to send your mind in a fury of panic as you dove below the surface. Your tail flapped as you slipped off the rock, it created a wild splash from the movement.

“Wait! I do not mean to frighten thee! Please, don’t go. Are you the maiden that saved me? I awoke on the sand..confused how I came to rest there. Please, need not to be afraid. I promise I will not harm thee.” He slowly approached the entryway to the lagoon, crouching down onto his knees.

You slowly peeked around the corner of the rock you had previously been sunbathing on. “I am the one to save you sir, but I am no maiden.”

“What are thee then? You appear to be a maiden, one that I now owe my very life to. I will forever be in your debt.”

“I am one with the sea..one of her many children that dwell in the depths below. You do not owe your life to me sir. I only wished to do a good deed.”

“One with..the sea? Is this a riddle? My head hurts far too much for any riddles, my dear. Do ye have a name?”

“Tis not a riddle, sir. For I am a mermaid. The sea is my home. I cannot utter my name to thee as it is forbidden.”

“A mermaid? Poppycock. Mermaids are just silly wives tales. I do not believe in such stories.” He swallowed a scoff that crawled up his throat.

Your tail suddenly swished above the surface as Joel clambered back, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

“By god, I must be dreamin!’ How can it be? Body of a woman, tail of a fish. Are the tales true?” He asked in disbelief.

“‘You are not dreaming, sir. I am as true as can be. Do I frighten thee?”

“No, no. I am simply just awestruck. A real life mermaid. I have never been confronted with such beauty to behold.”

You cautiously swam closer. You couldn’t help but to be drawn to the thrill of danger, even when every fiber in your scaled being was screaming at you to not draw nearer. Your arms slowly rose from the surface and came to rest along the rocky shore as you looked up at him through soft lashes. “And you, are you my jolly sailor bold?” You asked softly, tilting your chin to rest upon the top of your wrist.

Joel’s cheeks inflamed. Never had he felt so flustered by another being. His hand reached up and nervously scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never been pressured with such forward questions. Are your kind allowed to dwell with pirates?”

“For a pirate such as thee, you are quite sweet, and charming. Are all pirates like you?”

“I’m afraid not, my jewel. Most of us are quite brutish in nature. I come from Royal blood, and no matter how many years I have been away from my old life, my manners always find a way to sneak through. My men—” he paused rather suddenly. “My crew..were they saved? Please, tell me that they’re alive and not forever lost at sea.”

“Your men..didn’t survive. I’m so sorry, sir. My sisters are not as kind as I. They dragged them to the depths..ripped them limb from limb. Father would have a heart attack if he saw me conversing with you.”

“Fuck.” He whispered as he fell back onto his haunches and buried his face in his hands. “It’s all my fault. I am the cause of their deaths. If only I had listened..if only my ego did not shroud my judgment, they would still be alive.”

Your hand gently came to rest upon his arm. It caused you great distress to see another being in pain. Physical, or the mental kind, you felt it through and through. “You cannot beat yourself up over what has already been done. Not when you are still breathing air into your lungs, and tasting the sea along thy tongue. Do not weep for the dead, sir. You will see them when the time comes.”

Joel flinched at the soft contact, as it had been many moons since he felt the touch of a woman on his skin. “Joel.” He whispered. “My name is Joel, and I wish for you to whisper it as softly as thou sings.”

“Joel..I like the way it falls from thy tongue. Where doth thou wander from?..how did thou turn to piracy?”

“I like the way it sounds rolling past thy lips. I ran away from home, many years ago. I traded my trusted steed for a sailors ship. I was set to be married and live a life that I did not wish to live. My wife to-be was the only person to understand me, and my dreams. For you see, the sea has always beckoned me, and I finally answered it.”

“You ran away? That sounds awfully exhilarating. I’ve always wanted to leave my father and home behind. I suppose in a way I have, now that I am here with you.”

“Oh, it was. I still remember the rush through my veins when the sea carried me far away. All my life I had been searching for a purpose, and once I finally had it in my grasp, I could not forfeit what I always dreamed of. My jewel, why did thee choose to save me?”

“Your actions are very admirable, Joel. I struggle deeply with allowing other beings to be in pain. It goes against my nature. That is why I have never partook in my sister’s ploys. I never desired to drag lonesome sailors to a watery grave. Your life is just as special as the next. I could not bear to see thee perish.”

Your words touched a place inside Joel that no woman had dared to try and reach. It wasn’t that he was closed off to affection, he just simply didn’t have the heart for it. He bed women for an evening and he’d return to the sea the following morning. It was like clockwork. He only had felt for Annabeth, and even then he felt that it was platonic over romantic. He loved her, but not in the way that made his heart race and his palms sweat.

“I appreciate thee for saving my life. I do not feel that I am deserving to live while my men have died in a brutal fashion, but perhaps I shall take thee as a blessing.”

“Joel, every living being is deserving of life. Your woes shall burden you no longer. Doth thou wish to be happy, and at peace?”

“I wish for that, yes. How do I live with the grief in my bones?”

“You learn to forgive, and forget. You see the world for its simple pleasures of beauty, and grace.”

“Such as thee?” He boldly asked.

“If you wish it.” Your palm gently rested upon his own as you coaxed his hand from his face. “I have never thought pirates to be so..handsome.”

He leaned into your gentle cradled touch along stubble covered cheek. “How do you find such beauty in danger? I’ve killed many men. I’ve played the fool, and the instigator. I’ve made honorable decisions, and piss-planned mistakes. I am that of a scoundrel.”

“No, my jolly sailor bold. If thee were to be that of a scoundrel, you would have brought harm upon me. You are gentle at the core.” Your hand slowly drifted down to his exposed chest, feeling his heart skip a beat under your palm.

“You speak of that as a poet. I’d fancy to hear more of your honeyed voice.”

“Only if thou tells me tales of being a pirate.”

“Deal, my jewel.”

For many suns and moons, you and your jolly sailboat were engrossed in one another’s stories. He’d steal glances at your lips every few sentences as your fingers were gently toying with his soft ringlets. He’d recite to you stories of his past life, and present. Stories of adventure and thrills above the surface.

He craned his head to catch a glimpse of your shimmering tail below the surface. He was fascinated, as much as he was enamored. “Do you ever wish that thou had legs?” He softly asked as you twirled a curl gently.

“Sometimes I do wish for it. The sea has so much life and color to offer..but the surface land does spark my curiosity from time to time. I’ve seen ladies in fancy dresses upon ships with white sails. They always look so beautiful.”

“My dear, those ladies may look beautiful in their garments, they however can hardly breathe in them. You would be miserable in that life. Unless you somehow found your way to freedom.”

“Oh, would I be expected to marry for status? Not for love? I had no inclination to believe that their garments were suffocating, how dreadful.”

“Yes, your parents would have picked out a husband for you, before you’d properly experienced a childhood. You’d be forced into incessant lectures, proper etiquette, training and how to be a functioning member in society. Did I fail to mention you’d be forced to attend fancy parties and engage in mindless small talk? Life above the surface as a royal was draining at best.”

“My father has already picked a husband out for me. He is a fine merman, he just..doesn’t make my heart sing. Oh, how I’d love to dance under the moonlight. To hear a live orchestra..or an opera singer..”

Joel turned his nose up when you stated that you already had a husband picked out by the hand of your father. “I see.. Well, you did run away, did you not? You no longer have to marry. Not when you’re here with me. If you wish so terribly to dance, then we shall. All you have to do is wish for it, my jewel.”

“Joel, how are we to dance when you have legs. and I possess fins..” your lips curved in a soft pout.

“My love, in the crystal water you dwell in of course. Do you trust me?” He slowly sat up to rest upon his strong elbow.

“Of course I trust you. You have given me no reason to not trust you. Do you wish to dance with me under the moonlight, my jolly sailor bold?”

“I do, my jewel.” His words whispered against your skin like a soft warm breeze.

Just like that, Joel had stripped himself of his belongings, his holster that held his pistol and sword were discarded to the side as he struggled to unlace his boots. He had the ghost of a boyish grin across the shadow of his jawline. He truly was that of beauty.

You slowly swam backwards, wading in the gentle water as he swung his legs over the ledge and slipped in. His body was fully healed by now and only a scar along his browline and side were visible.

“Promise not to laugh..I am not the strongest of swimmers.” He chuckled as he swam towards you.

Under the pale moonlight and stars above, you were captivated by his golden tanned skin that was now speckled with water droplets. The gold that hung around his neck shimmered like your scales and the rings that encased his fingers.

“I’d only ever laugh in good fun at thee.”

“I never knew a mermaid could hold such humor.” He winked coyly.

“I never knew a pirate could be so..cheeky.” Your arms slowly looped around his neck as his gentle hands rested upon your scaly waist.

You slowly began to move your bodies under the water, mimicking that of a man and woman dancing to the sweet sound of a violin. The water rippled as the crickets chirped along the shore.

Joel Miller had never been in love; he decided now that his heart belonged to you, a mermaid that he believed was brought to him by fate alone. How blessed he was to be given a second chance at a fruitful life. He didn’t need a ship, or a crew. All he needed was you.

“Joel..” you whispered through the calm evening air.

“Yes, my jewel?”

“Do you believe that it’s ever too soon to tell someone you love them?”

“No, my love. I do not believe that there is ever a time too soon, or too sudden to confess your love for someone.”

“Then if that is to be true, I love you.”

“I love you, my sea.” His forehead gently came to rest upon your own as his hands slowly and delicately slid up your body. He stroked your hair, your cheekbones as his thumb dragged across your lower lip. “I wish to kiss thee. Do you wish it?”

You leaned into his gentle touch as your fingers threaded through his sea-salt speckled curls. “I wish to feel thy lips upon my own.”

He turned his head to the side, nose gently brushing against your own as his lips met yours. His hands were now gently cradling your face with the utmost care as he kissed you like a lover does for the first time. Your lips moved in synchronized harmony, you and your jolly sailor bold.

Upon one summer's morning, when the sea was at her angriest and the wind howled a ghostly tune as the skies above darkened to pitch black, Joel had decided that a life above the surface was a life he no longer wanted to live. He wished to be with you, forever.

“My jewel!” He yelled for you as he raced for the lagoon that had become yours and his personal oasis.

You swam up from the surface of the lagoon, his voice was like that of a beacon. “My Joel, you shouldn’t be out here. You must find shelter. The storm is picking up and I am frightened that you will be caught up in her fury.” Your tone was urgent as he crouched along the edge of the lagoon.

“My Jewel, my light, please. Please listen to the words I speak. The storm does not frighten me. I have no desire to seek out shelter when I am safe here. I wish for you to take me to the depths. I wish for you to take me to your Eden. Please, my heart aches terribly that I can not be with you fully. The surface world has become my prison. I don’t wish to dwell in it any longer.”

Your face fell upon his confession. Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head vigorously, grasping his hands in your own. “No, my jolly sailor bold. Do not wish such a thing. You are not suited to dwell in the depths of the sea. I forbade it.”

“Please. Please, I am begging you. I have given thee my heart, my soul, take me all; for I am yours.”

“Joel..my heart breaks for thee. You will never return to land if you make this choice.” His hand gently cradled your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

“It is a choice I am willing to make. I wish to be with you for the rest of eternity. Till the sun rises in the west, and sets in the east. Till mountains crumble, and the sea dries, and the earth cracks and shatters to dust. I wish to be with you, always.” He murmured softly.

“Take my hand, and never let go.”

“Never, my jewel. I will never let go.” He promised to you.

He grasped your hand bravely in his own. He kissed you swiftly, holding your face as close to his as possible. He could taste the salt dripping from your tears mixing in with his own. He took his final lungful of air, before you dragged him below the surface.

Joel Miller, once a prince turned a pirate; Was never seen by the surface world again. Some say he was driven mad by the loneliness, and grief that he took his own life and drowned in the sea's treacherous depths. Others say the sea always called his name, beckoned him to return home, and so he did. The sea claimed him, and he her, just as it had been written.

Tagging people I think will enjoy: @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @sinsofsummers @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tessa-quayle @saradika @chaotic-mystery @kirsteng42 @korynnekorynne @amanitacowboy @last-girl @lovers-liability @pedrostories

Banners made by the lovely @saradika

[kaynanarie]

JourneyTober! Day 9 - Wound/Scar

            Sand. Sand everywhere. Even with a flowing creek present, the land was dry and barren. Dead trees and craggy cliffs made up the empty wasteland. All covered in more sand.

            “My clothes are going to be itchy forever,” Jen grimaced, shaking loose grit from her tunic. Monkey scratched at his fur in agreement.

            The sun bore down from a cloudless sky, scorching the ground they walked on. Everything was bright, hot, and dry. Not even a building or living tree for shade and the water was starting to run low.

            Jen squinted at the horizon, the heat haze blurring where earth met sky. “Are you sure there’s even anything out here?”

            Monkey scanned the desert himself. After a moment, he shrugged.

            “What? Seriously!? Don’t tell me we’ve been wandering around this dustbowl for nothing!”

            Over her ramblings, Monkey could hear distant scurrying and disturbed stones. He paused to tilt his head, listening to the movements on the surrounding cliffs. Barely there shifts in the shadows darted too fast and too many to count.

            “I would give anything for a glace of ice water right–” Jen snapped her mouth shut when Monkey’s arm blocked her path. His other hand was readying his staff. “What is it?” she whispered, feeling the tension of the canyon settled over them.

            Something whistled past and stuck into the sand; an arrow had barely missed Monkey. Jen yelped when a second came flying at her head before Monkey’s staff knocked it away. Then came a full barrage of countless arrows aimed from all directions. He kept Jen at his back, rotating around her for the best protection. The spin of his staff deflected any arrows that came too close, others kicking up sand in their wake.

            But in a reaction half a second too slow, an archer landed a lucky shot.

            The wind was knocked out of Monkey when an arrow stabbed into his chest. A second and third followed before he could recover, hitting his side and shoulder. Jen’s scream snapped him out of his shock. The instant she moved to help, his tail wrapping around her and pinned her to his back, keeping her shielded behind him. Another flurry of arrows flew towards him; three blocked, one piercing a lung. Breathing became more difficult and pain radiated through his body. As his movements grew sluggish, more arrows found their mark.

            By the time the attack had ceased, Monkey had more than a dozen arrows riddling his torso. He was shaking from exertion and pain, vision swimming as he fought to stay standing. Jen was still behind pressed to his back, trembling and clutching his robes in fear. When he turned to check on her, the dizzying movement collapsed him to his knees.

            “Monkey!” Jen’s grip on his arm slowed his fall, keeping him upright. Her wide eyes brimmed with tears as they took in his injuries. Shaky hands hover nervously over the arrows, too afraid to touch. “What do I do?”

            Grabbing her shoulder, Monkey gave her a gentle push and pointed back the way they had come.

            “What? No!” she snapped, refusing to move even when a second, weaker shove tried to hurry her escape. “I’m not leaving you!”

            From the canyon walls, archer yaoguai appeared and slowly surrounded them. As they drew closer, Monkey recognized the gnashed teeth and beady eyes of the rat demons. Dread flooded his body at their approach. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t even stand, and he had a human to protect; a human the rats had taken a leering interest in.

            “You’re far from home, little monkey,” the largest rat spoke. “You shouldn’t have come here. As payment for trespassing, we’ll take your little human friend. They’ll make a fine treat for our prince.”

            Panic boiled to rage. In a last burst of strength, Monkey pulled Jen behind him, shielding her from the rats. He growled in warning, eyes narrowed and sharp fangs bared in a snarl.

            The leader only chuckled at the display. “I won’t waste anymore arrows on you.” To fast for Monkey’s bleary eyes to follow, the rat had lifted his robes and tossed him against a boulder. A new wave of pain tore through his body as the arrows were jostled. In his dazed state, he recognized Jen rushing to his side, terror in her eyes.

            One of the rat guards was suddenly next to her, grabbing onto her. Jen fought against his grip as he yanked her away. Monkey reached out to latch onto her arm but his grip was weak and his strength was fading. As his hold on her slipped, his claws desperately clung to her sleeve only for it give way, leaving a torn cloth in his grasp.

            Monkey struggled to move, struggled to breathe, struggled to focus as darkness closed in on his vision. The last thing he heard before passing out was the desperate cries of his friend being taken away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------(This one is set right before the start of Ch 2 in Black Myth Wukong. A bit intense and I wrote this half asleep so I might fix it up later. Huge thanks to everyone reading these! Hope they've been as much fun for you as they have for me!)

[tohakumaru]

one last stop. a boring but necessary trope.

the impossible nomad lightly moves across the desert, feet dancing. the bells on its cloak joyously sing. above, the sky is churning, stars flicker and die and are instantaneously reborn as currents of darkness twist and turn. cosmic movements in jest, like an amnesiac on a tuesday night.

a needle at the horizon, closer, closer, until it grows into a monolith in the sand - a column of dazzling white stone with not so much as a hairline crack on its veneer, sharp edges coming to a point, its erectness against the dark night like a stab into the eyes of its onlookers. but, this does not bothers the nomad, who approaches the structure with deliberate steps. it stops at a respectable distant and kneels. with lowered eyes and deft hands, it removes the corpse and the moth from its back and set them down, side by side. the nomad folds its arms and bows, beak almost touching the sand. its throat emits a low, rhythmic vibration, that perhaps could have formed words, but very much unintelligible to the ears, like sing-songs prayers behind closed doors accross the hall, a chagrinned madness.

after several minutes, or hours? one really cannot tell in this place, something stirs in the stillness of the air, and picks up in a current of cold winds, smelling like the soil after torrential rains. a sound materialises in the distance, faint at first then solidifies into a cacophanous wall of noises as if forebearing the arrival of an army, with bugles and horns and copper bells the size of rooftops on elephant-backs. whirlwinds picking up masses of sand and tosses them hither tither around the monolith, creating a strange monition of monstrous claws from the heavens twisting around this impossible thorn stuck square in the world.

and then it calms. the nomad raises its head. its eyes meet with that of the most beautiful creature the cosmos has ever birthed. The Moth Prince, his long arms and legs elegantly perched on the monolith, intricate wings and embellished cloaks fan out in a sight as majestic as a supernova. his eyes, which glow with startling flecks of lights, but betrays no malice, are fixed on the nomad.

the bird-thing, much dwarfed in size and plain in look yet not at all frightful, rather showing a reverent familarity one would hold for a long lost friend, gestures at the ill-fated pair laid out on the sand. The Prince gazes inquiringly, then slowly nods in understanding. he retrieves from his belt a wooden flute and holds it to his mouth with his upper pair of arms. the second pair clasps close to his chest. his lower legs hold steadfast to the monolith, as he plays a tune, shorter than a lullabye but forming a complete melody. the airy sound of the flute flows like silk from the prince's lungs, weaving an ethereal veil in the air that falls from the height of the monolith, blanketing the ground below with phantom sweetness. when the veil lifts, a red thread has formed around the corpse and the moth, a perfect knot tying them together.

The Prince waves his finger. the thread unwinds itself, but keeps the knot intact, and floats towards him. when it lands onto his palm, it turns to a small mount of red dust, which he rubs into the fuzzy fur of his left wing.

when all is done, The Moth Prince once again nods his beautiful head at the nomad, and departs from the monolith.

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 10

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.

(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)

masterlist for this series

Chapter Ten: King of the Narrow Sea

The battle proved to be one worthy of songs. Daemon fought alongside the Velaryons armed with nothing but his wits and beloved Dark Sister. He was beautiful in the prickling heat - glowing with Valryian prowess. 

“You intend to use my dragon, my prince?” Laenor shifted uncomfortably, but it was a plan that would happen nonetheless. “I was sent here to end the war, and end the war I will do.” the prince responded coldly, his mind somewhere else. He worried about his Saera - how scared she must be. 

—

Daemon was vengeful - easy to anger and slow to forgive. He sits atop the small boat - rowing in small circles, seeing the island on the horizon. He rowed his boat in a steady rhythm - mind placed upon the people he was fighting this war for; Saera, his baby niece and one true love. Viserys, his brother who didn’t believe him and Aemma - his sister. 

The Triarchy will know no god - none other than him and the inferno he was about to bring. He smiles, hearing his dragon roar in the distance. The Stranger knows him by name - the Father prays for his death, and the Smith tries to mend the bonds he’s broken. The Seven were afraid of him. 

He could see the muddied ground and yellow sand in-front of him. Death was the only thing in his mind. He takes the Dark Sister - wobbling as he adjusted to gravity - he fantasizes the look of blood on his blonde hair, bodies limp around him while he brings honor to the realm. 

“I’ve come to surrender,” he screams, waiting for a few seconds to scan his surroundings - they were cautious, he had to give that to them. He places the Dark Sister on his palms, kneeling in he surrender. The Crabfeeder comes out, and starts walking towards him with a smug grin. 

He could feel the man’s body standing hovering over him, watching him with the thought of victory. Daemon lowers his head, feeling uneasy at the look of a Greyscaled man. The Crabfeeder reaches for his darling sword, and hell breaks loose - like a swift horse, the prince leaps - slicing the man in half. 

Wounds and bruises went from blue, red and black - but Daemon could only see red. Red like the blood that would flow like the rivers. Red like the massacre he’ll bring unto those that threaten to defeat him. 

The man was dead. He knew that. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. 

His hands hold unto his sword tightly - even tighter than before. He impales the man with his dark sister, smiling to himself. To his allies, his existence was a sigh of relief - but to his enemies it was a warning. This was the dragon that they needed to be scared of. The madness that was warned. 

Daemon always got what he wanted. 

His baby niece wasn’t an exception. 

—

“Prince Daemon has reclaimed the Stepstones.” Larys announced while sitting beside his future sister. He was a cautious little thing - always glancing to his side in order to see the reactions of other people. He’s good at manipulation - at contorting his fellow nobles into following his cause - but Saera was a tough shell to crack. She never seemed to care about anything other than her and her uncle. Saera’s ears perked up at the sound of Daemon’s victory.

“Really?” she turned her body towards him - prompting him to elaborate upon his announcement. “He is crowned as King of the Narrow Sea - he will return here tonight.” Larys added with a tilt of brow. He’s found the Princess’ weakness - and he will exploit it greatly. 

“He is a wonderful knight, don’t you think? He’s ended a war without the help of the King - it is surely an impressive feat.” he complimented, still staring at her face and waiting for a reaction. Her purple eyes light up - like she was the one being complimented. “Truly - the King should hold a feast in his honor.” she smiled, thinking about his return. 

His warm embrace - his smug stare, and pink lips. 

She missed him. 

“He’s wonderful isn’t he?” he paused. 

“Of course.” she answered frankly.

“Everyone adores and loves him,” his eyes twinkled. 

“He is a prince, my lord.” she nodded.

“ - some more than others.” he settled on that thought, and her cheeks turned scarlet at the notion. Her gaze trails away from the view and into Larys Strong. “What are you insinuating, my lord?” she inquires, feigning innocence. 

She wasn’t ashamed of having rumors swirling around about them - but she didn’t want it used against her. She loved him - and didn’t want that used to another’s gain. “A little bird has told me about a rumor.” he hummed, moving his body closer to hers. “I pray that the rumor is maintained a rumor.” her eyes narrowed, trying to analyze his every move. 

Her uncle warned him about enemies - that they would try to manipulate her, but she needed to be strong. She needed to be his strong little girl. 

“You don’t even know the rumor yet, my princess.” Larys chuckled, taking a bite of his lemon cake. “Then, pray tell.” she took a deep breath - preparing an alibi that would convince the toughest of men. “I will need something in return,” his eyes darkened anticipating her begging. 

Instead, she scoffs loudly - mocking him. 

“I’ve changed my mind, Lord Larys. I am in no need of your little birds - I inform you that this conversation will reach the ears of your sweet brother.” she lifted herself off the chair, dusting her gown with annoyance. “- and perhaps next time, you will do a greater job in attempting to sway me to your whim.” she rolled her eyes, walking away from him - leaving Larys in shock. 

The lords of this realm undersold the Princess’ wit. 

Saera wasn’t a loss - there were still other vulnerable nobles at court. Larys leans on his chair - eyes trailing to the shadow of Alicent’s figure. 

She will make do. 

—

Saera mumbles strings of Valyrian curses. 

She wanted to kill Larys for trying to manipulate her. Did he really think that she was that stupid? It insulted her - unnerved her that they all believed that she was dumb. “Cunts.” she cursed while searching for her room. 

She wanted to stay there forever - so that she’ll never see another person again. She was just about to enter the West Wing, but Lancel Hightower pulled her to the side. “Princess.” the man tightened his grip on her forearm. 

“Lord Hightower?” her eyebrows bumped into each other. “Is there anything that requires my attention?” she asked and he let her forearm go. “I’m afraid that your wedding with Ser Harwin will happen today, as the nobles who will attend your father’s wedding have already arrived.” Lancel announced and her heart dropped to her stomach. 

“They can wait, my lord.” she rolled her eyes, attempting to walk away but a guard stopped her. “Your father told me that you’d be saying that. You do not have a choice, my princess. None but to follow the grace of our kind king. The wedding will pull through today.” The man takes a deep breath, turning his body to the direction of the Great Hall - Saera has no choice but to follow him. 

“Can we not wait for my uncle? He’s a few hours away. It is important to me that he attends.” she reasoned, and the man kept walking. Lancel smirked, satisfied with the descent of his enemy. 

He stops walking - not speaking to command the full attention of the Princess. 

“He will be there for the bedding ceremony.” he retorted, before walking once more. Lancel was happy - if it was ever possible for a man like him to feel that emotion. He’s content with the idea of his enemy’s lover falling into the wrong hands - the hands that wouldn’t be able to love her properly. 

next chapter>>

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[mehiwilldoitlater]

I felt so sorry for the prince rat. It's like, little baby needs to be protected at all costs and urgently needs a friend. 😭😭🤲❤️

Wouldn't it be a bother to continue? I just want to see a happy ending for the rat prince (I'm not pressuring you!).

"Came on, everybody! Togethere!"

"HEAVE-OH!"

A big number of small monkeys, cubs, and youngster were frolicking the old well at the edge of the forest. With the help of the rope, they were trying to take up the water. Or, better say, something in the water.

You were on your way back to the mountain; being the only human gave you free access to the mortal village, holding one Bing Tanghulu in your hand and another in your mouth, already half eaten, and it was there that you noticed the crawd of monkeys, busy in that activity. The well was used by them, and the small basket of water wasn't such an issue to rise up, so something was on there.

"Hi little ones! What are you planning this time?"

"Miss y/n! You're back from town!"

"We're trying to get the funny thing out of the well!" Said one of the smallest ones in the group, holding the rope rather than pulling with its brothers and sisters.

"Trying to get the funny thing out of the well, uh?" You poked your face near the edge of the rock structure. "Well, that's one I never heard before!"

And, as you ended that sentence, a low moan escaped from the same well, letting you loose the grip of the candy from your hand.

"OH GOD, THERE'S SOMEONE DOWN THERE?!"

Without another request, you grabbed the rope, helping the monkeys to rise whoever was so unlucky to fall in a well. Finally, a silhouette started to appear from the shadow, and... Two pairs of yellow irises, an old and rattled prestigious armor, a furry face with some rodent features.

There, face to face, you were dragging out the same rat prince that you met at Yellow Wind Ridge. 

His eyes suddenly got bigger, fueled with refound glimps.

"FRIENDY!"

You screamed, alongside the children, loosing the grasp on the rope and letting the giant creature fall back in the well.

//////

"Ok everyone, ready for everything!"

Now, the youngest were replaced by the oldest ones, stronger and ready to attack the intruder of their land. Yuán Fèn, the destined one, was covering you with himself, his staff ready to strike at every chance of danger for you, while you were trembling, wondering how that creature was able to follow you two to Mount Huagou.

The group was able to rise the Yaoguai like before, but this time. Once out, the creature searched for something, and, once he had laid his eyes on you, he found it.

"FRIENDY!" He freed himself from the ropes, fell ungraciously on the ground, and started to move with that same level of agility towards you.

You gasped while your monkey friend was ready to point his weapon at the unwanted guest, making him stop in his tracks.

"Not another step! You seem to remember my staff, so you better keep your distance!"

The gargantuan rodenmt seemed concerned by the warning of the simian but kept on moving, hoping to get a glance at you, while you were still shielded by Yuán Fèn and garded in distance by others, all of them armed with their own staff.

"How the heck did he find this place?! How was he able to follow us?!"

"Maybe he followed your smell, Y/N; you stayed in that cave for some time, and he must have memorized!"

"Hihi, rats have the best smell! But they're not big as this one here!" The children, mischievous as always, didn't fled like the second time and watched from the trees the scene in front of them. Since they were used to normal kinds of rats, a Yaoguai one like that must have been news for them; that's why they were calling him the funny thing when they were recovering earlier. You, on the other hand, were less enthusiastic about his presence since your last encounter.

"My, oh my...our Bián huá had cought quite the catch, um?" An old and calm voice emerged from the small corwd; the elder monkey appeared, laughing a little, observing the scene that was unfolding.

"I swear! It wasn't my intention! He just...followed me here!" You pleaded, hoping to not have endangered the monkeys.

"Oh, he's not something to be bothered about. I was most interested in how this distinctive creature had followed you two."

You both explained the happening: the destined one falling in an ambush, you being captured, and this Prince behavior. The eldest, listening, had sniockered a few times, mostly for your ignorance on the rat's intention, but kept shut.

"Clearly," Yuán Fèn said, "he can't stay here. This is not a place for him, and his people still need him, especially since his older brother and his father abscence."

"I believe," the elder continued, "that he won't go away even on his own." He gestured towards another attempt of the prince to grab you or touch you with his tail, always prevented by a move from you or from Yuán Fèn.

"And I REALLY don't want to set another foot at Yellow Wind Ridge; they'll believe we have abducted him or something!" You said again, finally deciding to scoff away the tail with a small kick.

"Um, if he can't go back...and we can't accompany him...someone has to come and fetch him, don't you think?" The leder seems to have someone in mind; he has been always kept informed of all of your adventures and meetings, and he must have already had someone in mind.

"The third prince, maybe?" Yuán Fèn suggested, remembering the man that you two met at the Pagoda realm.

"Oh! You right!" you suddenly gleemed again. "We can inform him! He's his brother; he's his responsibility after all! And, besides, it could be a good way to get his family together, no?"

It seemed like a reasonable idea! Even if you were a little afraid of the possibility of the third prince tò refusing.

"In that case," the elders keep it on. "Why don't send him a message about it?" In the mean time..." He took a little pause; that reminded you more of a dramatic pause. "Y/N, why don't you help him around?"

"ME?!"

Yuán Fèn instantly got beat the elders; even he didn't like that idea. It was one case if it was having a Yaoguai running around and making a mess; another was all of these things and having him following you like a shadow!

"Old One, this is impossible! He clearly doesn't have good intentions; leaving him with the Bián huá is a danger to us and the mission!"

"Or," he stopped the younger, "he'll behave...and act properly...as the same Bián huá asked." No?"

He looked at you, arching on of his hairy eyebrown. 

You looked at the rat; you know he had understood everything all of you had said; in fact, he was... It was a puppy face? He was making a puppy face to convince you?! You let a sigh escape from you; there's no way out of that.

"I guess... I can try to make him eat any monkey...

The elders smiled, patting your shoulder with a satisfied voice.

"Let's send the letter right away then."

And so, without if or but, you were stuck... with him. It wasn't easy for Yuán Fèn either, with all his brothers and sister snickering at the idea of the prince stealing his girl.

/////

"No! This is my room; you can't get in!"

Fighting with a giant rat that is trying to bring an entire plum tree in a small crevice into another one is quite hard, especially if you're just a human.

For the last week, you've been the only caretaker of the big fella. And oh boy, your entire adventure and task seemed like a nice walk in the park.

Hua and Fang, the two female monkeys who occupied the room with you, were utterly scared by this creature trying to get inside, only causing more ruckus from the other females.

"Present! Nice flowers for friendy!"

"You can put them outside! Stop! I'm coming, okay?! Cut it out already!"

You apologized to the two and tried to get the prince far away from the sleeping area. From a branch, observing with some worry, Yuán Fèn couldn't shake the idea that you've been far too soft on him. This wasn't the first time that he had crossed a line; man, the worst was when he started to follow you and the other female to the bathing zone. At least he and the other males were ready to stop him with some food, a second thing that could help them to get you some free time. From the rest, he seemed like there was zero chance to get you alone.

You took him away from the place that you helped him, with the assistance of the others, to make him a surrogated house for that time, a simple fabric, some sticks, and an old mattress for him. You had to stop up on a rock to look at him in the eyes.

"Listen up, big guy," he seated down, understanding the seriousness of your tone. "You can just keep doing this! Bursting into everyone's room, my room! Oh, and don't let me start with the bath story; I know everything! Have you any idea how many mess you caused? And how many of them do I have to clean?!"

You massaged your temples; he seemed hurt, but it was unclear if the message cut through.

"I know you just want to be nice; bring gifts and what you catch in the woods, but...listen, I just want some time for me!"

There was a moment of silence where you thought that he didn't get a thing of what you said; he always heard what he wanted to hear. But maybe he got that you felt frustrated, and he started to shake the tree, still in his grasp, gently over your head. A soft and gentle rain made of petals started to fall over you, the sunset only making the colors shine more. After some seconds, you giggled, covering your mouth.

"Is that a way to say sorry?"

He didn't hear a thing; as usual, he was only there, admiring your smile.

//////

Despite his attempts to take you out of the water, every time you just shove him away. Everyone was supposed to help the community, and today you were supposed to catch some fish.

He seemed agitated, like a dog that can't reach his owner, and kept on crying and howling to get him back.

"He's going to scare away all of the fish like this!" Fu, the young male, was right. You both were there for more than an hour and didn't get anything. Sooner or later, you both have to return to the village and confess your unluckiness since your guest didn't like the idea of you in the water.

"Prince, please, I'm fine! Let us catch the fish in piece, then we can go back!" 

Here some silence, finally! The two of you started to come back to your duty when a huge splash and a thunderous blast made both of you lose your balance and fall.

"WHAT THE F-" another blast, more splashing water.

The prince must have thought that, by helping you get more fish, you would have finished sooner and came back with him! So he started to use a huge log to hit the water, causing the fish to be hurt by the wave from it. Soon, the net was full of very much dead fish.

"Well, look at that! We're full for the day!" said Fu, with a frefound joy.

You laughed, and when he got closer, you hugged the prince's arm.

"You see?! You're amazing! Good job!"

//////

The moonlit was coloring the dark skies. Sitting in the grass, his tail tried to warm you up while you were too connected to look at the stars, maybe searching for a deity that wandered too far from the celestial court.

"I wonder if people are missing me at home." You finally spoke, ending the silence. "I've been away from home. I hope they're all okay."

A moan made you change your gaze from the sky to the prince. He had never looked at the sky once, to be fair.

"And you? Don't miss home a tiny bit." He just shoked his head. "I guess they miss you instead. You cared for them, and they do it too. They're just rodents, I guess."

You sighed; they seemed to care, so they wanted to feed him with you. It has passed an entire week now, and still no response from his younger brother. You started to worry that they had forgotten him, or worse.

His finger poked your face, worried from your expression.

"Home away," he spoke. "You here now. Me happy. You here. Very happy."

You smiled again, touched by his words, unaware of a bird coming to the village.

/////

The next day, Yuán Fèn seemed to be pondering, a little in his own world and not too far connected to his surroundings. That was an easy catch to let get away.

"BOO!" While almost trip from the stone, you laughed holding your stomach.

"Ha ha, laugh as much as you want. I'll take my time next time a Yaoguai tries to eat you."

"We both know that you would never do that." You sat next to him, holding him a khaki. "And I'm here with GREAT knews! The third prince responded to our letter and is coming here!"

"Oh! How long till he reach Mount Huagou?"

"He said he'd be on his way immediately, so I guess he'd just be near! Your vacancy away from me is almost over; savor the last days!"

"You hurt me!" he laughs, putting an arm around your shoulders. "I do enjoy our time together! I would like to not prepare for your way back home even."

"Hehe, I know, I know, I keep forgetting that I have to go back sooner or later. In that case, I'll savor these moments with you!"

And while the two of you shared a nice moment, a pair of eyes watched with jealousy, and some ears listened with grief.

////

That morning, when you woke up, you thought to find your new friend around, waiting for you to follow you around like every day by now; instead, no one was there. Did he decide to leave you alone? Strangely, every demand had passed through his ears.

"Hey," you stopped An, another of the youngest monkeys. "Did you see the Rat Prince?" He's usually here at this time."

She pondered a little rather than remembering.

"I heard him going to the training ground!"

Oh, so he wanted to train a little? Not exactely.

In that moment, Yuán Fèn was taking care of his duty by helping the youngers to train with their weapons, like mostly of his days there on the mountain, and heard the giant footstep of the rat. Despite their past, in these days he tried to be as gentle as you with him, even if he met only some poorly manners towards him, but he passed every one of them.

"Ah, look who's showed up here! Are you here for?" Before he could finish his sentence, a powerful blow from the prince Chui hit him with a direct blow that threw him away. The other monkey started to scream, showing teeth and trying to get closer, but the prince had nothing but his prey in mind.

Before he could have struck another blow, Yuán Fèn was fast enough to summon his staff and stop him in a stall. A small blood drop escaped from the simian mouth, trying to match the strength of the prince with his own.

"Did you lose your mind?! What are you doing?!"

"We settle! Me fight you! If I win, I take Y/N away! She won't leave; she stays with me! You disappear!"

So that's what he wanted?! A fight over you?! He knew you wanted to go home, that the mission needed you, and you wanted to help. What all of this against your wishes?! Yuán Fèn was enraged, not for the fight itself but because everything was born from the egoistical desire of that monster.

"As you wish!" And so the fight began. The two, under the watchful eyes of everyone, fought with surch brutality that they feared for the worst. That rat had proven to his people that he was strong, but he had never fought the destined one. He wasn't just strong; he was capable of many tricks and faster. No matter how many blows he received, he was ready to get back on his feet.

More blows were shared, more avoided, and some not, but the fight wasn't made to last.

"PRINCE!"

Your voice echoed, and the Rat stopped his last shot, allowing Yuán Fèn to get more space between himself and his opponent. You were there, at the entrance of the training ground, looking at the scene in disbelief.

"What...what are you doing?! Why are you fighting Yuán Fèn?!"

"Me settle! So we can stay together! Home, with me!"

"...W-what?" You looked at him confused, giving him the chance to get closer. Now, his enraged expression was more soft.

"You don't need to leave; you stay forever with me! We stand at the village; we are happy!"

"But... I don't... I don't want to..."

His look changed again; something hurt this time. 

"I want to go back home, I told you! ...I need to stay and help the Destined one!"

"But I want you with me; we can be happy together!" He reached his hand towards you, one that you smacked away, offended by his words.

"I said I stay! I don't want to follow you!"

He looked at his hand. You had never smacked away like that. He grabbed your arm again, pulling it with violence. The sudden move was the last straw for Yuán Fèn; he had heard the clear sound of something broking and your scream. Before the prince could loosen his grip on you, the staff of the Destined one launched a last strike that launched the rat away, and he immediately took you in his own arms.

"You...VILE BEAST! Enough is enough! We had let you stay, we had fed you, and we allowed you this because of her, and you are repaying us with this?! HURTING HER?! I swear, if I even see your mutt at the entrance of the village, I'll kill you!"

Your pained scream echoed while Yuán Fèn rushed you to the elder monkey, aware that now he looked more like a rabid animal than the one that had vowed to protect you. 

The prince, stuck in his tracks, could only see the crow disappear.

////

In the follow days, just once the prince tried to get near you. He was spared because you begged Yuán Fèn, and that was the last time.

He didn't show up, not even in his small house. He seemed disappered.

You were cured; the healing wine was able to fix your arm, but it still hurt a bit, and your Yuán Fèn never left your side while you were anguishing in your pain. He should have known that that could have happened; it was clear that the prince planned something with you, but he never thought that he could go as far as attacking him or hurting you. Maybe your case was an accident, but he didn't care, not at all.

Finally, the day of the third prince's arrival came, and you had to tell him everything. Everyone wanted to greet him with nicety and some fun; instead, he arived with relief, knowing that he would have brought away his brother.

"I truly apologize; I cannot shake the fact that it's also my own fault. If I had never left my kingdom, nothing would have happened."

"It was meant to happen," said Yuán Fèn, "and we know you'll do what is necessary for him."

He hummed, worried more about your silence than all.

"Y/n, it's something bothering you?"

"I wish we could say goodbye properly." Yuán Fèn looked at you shocked. "I just want things to not end like this! I endulged him; it's also my fault!"

The destine done sighed, looking at the third prince for some assistance. He nodded a little, knowing that maybe you and his brother needed that.

You founded him not far from the village, enough to see you all, or better you, but not enough to get beaten to death by the other monkeys. It was something about you and him, but even in that case, the third prince and Yuán Fèn stayed in close reach to avoid another accident like the last one.

The rat stayed there, too focused on breaking some sticks, unaware even of the presence of his own blood. When he saw you near, he seemed surprised, excited, or even afraid for something.

"Today is the last day; your brother is here." He didn't say anything, just staring at you, meddling with the sticks. "I know that you mean well; I know that you had suffered for a long time, but... the things you offer are not what I want. You must respect that, do you understand?"

He did; this time he did listen to you. But it was painful to him.

"I still want to be your friend. Do you still want to be mine?"

You smiled at him. You graced him again with that gentle smile that could break his heart every time you wanted. He wanted more, but it wasn't what you wanted after all. He toked the hand that you had offered him, holding it gently. It was so small compared to his own, soft and warm. He wanted to be the one to hold it. But it was set there that you belonged already to someone else.

At the end of the day, the two princes and some of their followers left Mount Huagou, leaving the monkeys behind, so they could keep back their daily lives. The second prince left, with a broken heart but a healing friendhip.

"He really did want to keep you with him." Yuán Fèn spoke, watching with you the group merging in the forest, "But I don't think he treasured you enough to know what you really wanted."

"And you?" your eyes met. "Do you treasure me enough?"

The young one decided to not speak, deciding to just hold your hand and squish it.

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[141wh0re]

Teaser

Tw: 18+ MDNI | un-aliving | weapons| violence| blood| angst if you squint.

Word Count: 2059

A/N: After weeks of trying not to think about this and get through my last semester, we are finally here! I can't wait to rot your brains with this AU. I can't wait to see what you all think of this - Skelly xx

12th Century A.D. - in the desert of Al Mazafin, along the Red Sea.

Prince Kyle Garrick kneels before the sacred fountain, performing his mid-day prayer.

A singular speck of dried blood stains the low ledge of the fountain's pool, taunting the prince for his loss. The same fountain his father - King Jeremiah Garrick- was murdered near. He was found lying face-down in the small pool of the sacred waters, his own blood tainting it. Murdered when he least expected it; praying for his family and the safety of their kingdom's people. Wishing them to be blessed and protected.

The inky, black and red, aged speck stares back at him as he glares at it, allowing it to invade his thoughts, tainting his own mind with the darker thoughts. Wanting revenge for his beloved father. To damn the person who bestowed such responsibility upon him so soon, by taking his father's life.

Kyle wasn't ready to be king. All he knew was war. As his father's second right hand, it was Kyle's duty to bring honor to their family name, fighting in his father's army, invading kingdoms who threaten to bring harm to their beloved city of Al-Mazafin. He was curated into a man used to bloodshed and battle.

He'd learned much of what his father had passed onto him, yet he felt as if he wasn't prepared enough. He knew the day would come. He knew he'd be crowned the successor of his father's throne. But it wasn't supposed to be this soon.

He glared at the fountain, losing focus on his mid-day prayer, due to the incessant pestering from that singular speck of his father's blood. A single drop of blood that caused such a ripple within his mind, disturbing the calmness of his thoughts. It opened him up to the grief and anger that took residence in his heart and in his bones, taunting his darker parts, begging for them to be unleashed. To feel the weight of a dagger sliding into another man's chest, or the sharp pinch of the bow string snapping between his fingertips as he propels an arrow into his enemy, atop the back of his horse.

But what he couldn't fathom was the silken dagger pouch that seemed to hum and buzz with endless energy. Or the faint glow of purple it emitted when sand entered the pouch. And the strange haze it seemed to pull his enemies into when he threw the sand in their eyes, blinding them momentarily in a fit of desperation, to bid him time to maneuver a counter-attack.

It was left for him, by his father, attached with a singular note scrawled in his father's writing. One sentence. "Use it well, and you shall always know the truth."

His mother's voice sounds from behind him, disrupting the chaos of his mind.

"Kyle? Alright, love?" she asked tenderly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He rises from his position of kneeling, his warm, chocolate eyes flickering towards her warm gaze.

"Fine, mother." he replied in a strained voice, fighting the guilt threatening to consume him for lying to his mother.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"He would be proud of you... of how you're handling everything since his passing." Queen Cyra offered in a gentle tone.

Her kinky, black curls rested along her back, stopping just below her slender shoulder blades. The same curls her son inherited - though Kyle never allowed his to grow out. White Persian silk flowed from her slender frame, delicate patterns with purple and gold embroidery adorned the capped sleeves of her gown, and a large, golden sun pendant lay flush to her smooth, brown skin.

Queen Cyra was the epitome of elegance and poised sophistication, ever the diplomatic woman, she commanded respect in the same manner, her late husband, King Jeremiah did.

"Yeah.. I'm sure." Kyle replied, not entirely believing his mother's words.

Cyra's eyes softened on her son, giving him a sympathetic look.

"Why don't you get out of the palace for a bit? Wander the streets of the city and enjoy some fresh air," his mother suggested, sensing the weariness of her son's mind.

"It'll do you some good to wander a bit. Ease your mind." she added in her caring tone.

Kyle pondered her idea thoughtfully. It wasn't a bad idea at all. He'd been cooped up within the palace for the last few days, ever since returning from a particularly horrendous journey to another kingdom, in search of a another noble to wed.

"Yeah. I think I will." Kyle finally agreed, flashing his mother a quick smile that hadn't quite reached his eyes.

She smiled in return before pressing a warm kiss on his smooth brown cheek.

"Take Gaz with you." his mother advised, referring to his 2 year old guard dog, a South African Boerboel - a gift from an ally in the southern region of the continent.

He whistled at the large, sandy, short-haired mastiff who was standing dutifully at the pointed cinquefoil archway, keeping watch. Gaz snapped his attention from the archway and padded towards Kyle. "You heard the queen." Kyle spoke to the dog with a humorous lilt in his tone and a sly smirk adorning his full lips.

"I'll see you at dinner, mother." Kyle said as he pecked his mother's soft cheek, earning a warm smile.

Live music floated about the town square where the townspeople hustled and bustled around the streets and the bazaar, in a dance of selling and buying goods.

The delicious smells of freshly made foods wafted throughout the marketplace: Malfuf Mahshi, rice and noodles, Bamia, Koshari, and Molokhia.

Kyle adjusted his white keffiyeh, ensuring his face was protected from the sun, sand, and the townspeople, simply so he could observe and blend in as a commoner to avoid being disrupted. Including ditching his palace robes for a lightweight, beige tunic and salwar pants to combat the dry, desert heat.

Gaz strolled beside Kyle, keeping on high alert while protecting his human. Though his nose would briefly drift when passing carts of various cuts of meat, yet he followed the prince with unwavering focus.

Kyle leaned against the corner of a clay-plastered wall of an alleyway, studying his city's people, and watched as they milled about. Children of all ages darted throughout the bazaar, gawking over jewels, silks, and weaponry. The prince's heart swelled with pride upon seeing the people happy and healthy. Trade was booming, and there were very few people that seemed to be struggling to make a day's wage.

He lowered his keffiyeh from his jaw to allow himself the pleasure of divulging in freshly baked, Egyptian flat-bread - aish baladi. Gaz sat at the prince's feet, in the shade, keeping a keen eye on the various people passing by.

Kyle cast a glance at his loyal companion, a gentle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He broke apart a piece of bread and held it discreetly in front of Gaz's snout, to which the pup happily accepted the offering.

A commotion broke out in the distance, pulling both Kyle and Gaz's attention away from the market, redirecting their attention on a quaint building where thin tendrils of white smoke curled out of the geometric lattice - a shisha cafe.

Kyle adjusted his keffiyeh once more, shielding his face, before casually strolling towards the commotion.

As he approached the red-clay, colored building, he was met with the sight of the cafe owner -an older, pudgy man with tanned skin and white, balding hair- forcibly removing a woman from his place of business.

The owner's large palm wrapped firmly around the woman's bicep before harshly shoving her into the dirt of the street where she landed with a thud on her side.

"Your kind isn't welcome here! And if I catch you in here thieving from my clients again, it's to the palace where you'll have your hand removed!" the owner shouted angrily as he chucked her bag at her feet.

A woman thieving in the city? Curious.

Kyle waited until the owner ducked back inside his cafe before nearing the scorned young woman.

She begrudgingly pushed herself up to rest on her hip as she snagged her bag from the dirt and dusted it off.

Kyle extended his hand towards the supposed thief, wanting to help her to her feet.

From behind her jeweled veil, the woman glared up at him with fierce, green eyes, reluctantly taking Kyle's hand.

"Thanks," she grumbled in a hint of annoyance, though he could feel it wasn't directed at him.

"A thief, huh?" Kyle inquired with a cocked brow. He watched as she dusted her salwars, trying to rid them of the sand from the street.

"No. Not entirely." the woman replied in a melodic voice.

Kyle took a moment to take in her appearance. Black, thick and wavy tendrils cascaded down her back, stopping at the middle of her back. An hour glass figure with a soft tummy on display in her off-the-shoulder bandeau, and ample hips adorned her frame, standing a head shorter than the prince.

He tried to get a better glimpse of her features under the red, organza material of her veil, supple lips, and a slender nose are all he could make out. But he had to admit he was enthralled by her appearance.

What was a beauty like her doing thieving? Don't you know how dangerous that is, dove?

"So what was that all about then?" Kyle asked with piqued interest, observing the attractive woman before him.

"Nothing to concern yourself with." she quipped with a sharp finality in her tone. "I must be off to work, seeing as my other plan didn't work." she muttered lowly, letting out an exasperated sigh as she turned on the heel of her worn moccasins.

Kyle couldn't help but admire her no-bullshit personality. This was one of the thrills he received when roaming the town in disguise. He was treated as another dweller, and not some righteous soon-to-be king.

"Ah, so getting kicked out of the cafe wasn't the intended plan?" Kyle remarked with a humorous lilt in his deep, velvety timbre.

The woman stopped in her tracks with tensed shoulders, her fists clenched at her sides in irritation.

Ohh. We're a bit spirited, aren't we, dove?

She whipped her head around to face the disguised prince, "Why're you so nosy? What do you want, anyway?" Her eyes drifted away from him when she caught sight of a well-dressed, middle-aged-man passing them by on the street, three gold bracelets donning each wrist.

"If you'll excuse me." She dismissed herself before gracefully weaving through the crowd, like a black widow about to trap a fly in her webs.

Kyle was left reeling from the interaction. The mistress had already left such an impression on him from such a quick interaction. But his curiosity didn't stop him from trailing her.

He set off after her, bobbing and weaving through the crowded marketplace until he caught sight of her red veil once more, disappearing down a lesser-crowded alleyway.

Kyle hid behind a crate at the end of the alleyway, peering around it to watch as the woman leaned herself against the wall and ran her hand over the man's chest in a seductive lure. The man is so focused on her eyes and her words, he doesn't even notice her collecting the expensive-looking gold bracelets from his wrists. As if in a trance, the man careens his head towards her neck, speaking in a hushed voice as she nabs his bracelets, one by one. She keeps up her allure by running her freehand in his hair, pressing her supple body closer to him.

"What on earth are you doing, dove?" Kyle mumbled to himself. He kept his eyes trained on the young woman, unable to tear his gaze away.

His eyes darted towards the purple glint of the jewels on her veil, nearly the same purple the dagger pouch made when in contact with sand.

But weren't they red before?

"Seems you have many secrets, little dove." Kyle quietly mused with a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lip under the lightweight material of his keffiyeh. "Who are you?" he wondered quietly to himself.

Taglist: @pale-ghost-girl /@v1naco/ @starsofang

[mousy-nona]

All of God's Angels p. 2

I think you will like His newest creation, Gabriel mused. I’ve foreseen a challenge for you. An equal. A partner, tall and beautiful and terrible, and crowned in red. // Or Lucifer tries his damned best to ignore Gabriel's prophecy, then finds Alastor after Extermination Day.

All parts up on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53800450/chapters/136173307

Lucifer was Not Impressed by his supposed perfect match. 

As he watched Alastor toss a few grunts into his mouth with a glee that Lucifer could only describe as satanic, he broke his resolution to never pray again for the second time in a row and sent a quick message up to Heaven.

Dear Father, he beseeched – nay, begged – Dear Father, for the love of all that is unholy, please let it be someone else.  

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was another false alarm, like Lilith had been. Hell was full of red-faced bastards, and as much as he hated to admit it (and as Alastor had so smugly reminded him), most of them were taller than he was. Not Alastor tall, of course, but Gabriel had never specified ye verily, thy fated companion shall be approximately seven feet high, if thou art judging by the imperial system. 

(Curse that stuffy excuse for a messenger pigeon! If he hadn’t been so annoyingly vague, Lucifer wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!) 

But there was something about the demon that made him think this time – this time would be the one that stuck. 

Maybe it was the way the demon seemed to have an uncanny sixth sense for knowing exactly how to get under his skin. He’d picked on his height, which was a low (ha!) blow, but then he’d honed in on his one true weakness with a swift, savage efficiency even Lucifer had to admire. Within less than a minute, he’d focused all his witty one liners on his relationship with Charlie – or lack thereof. 

Maybe it was the thrill that crept up his back as they fired insults at each other – “that’s why they call it the ‘Has-Been Hotel’!” “It was actually my idea!” – and Alastor didn’t once miss a beat. He returned each one of Lucifer’s barbs with a grace and silky condescension that made his own retorts look clumsy by comparison. He was excited in a way he hadn’t in years, filled with an electricity that could have been hate or delight or anything in between. 

Most importantly, he felt alive . Awake and alert. And when he placed his hand on the apple topping his staff, he felt it vibrate the way it had that first morning, and his mouth filled with the crisp, clean sparkle of potential.

It almost tasted like static. 

It was all too much for one day and Lucifer – the Prince of Darkness, the Morning Star, the Light Bringer – retreated. In front of a former human. 

Time flowed differently for a being that had existed since before the creation of the world. A blink of an eye could last a decade, or it could last a heartbeat of a second. He’d forced himself to get better at keeping track after Charlie’s birth, knowing time didn’t misbehave for her like it did for him. Being a father meant not wanting to miss a single moment – a lesson he’d learned the hard way. 

It was a mark of how badly Alastor had shaken him that he forgot all of his self-imposed rituals. He didn’t set the alarm at night. He didn’t mark off the days on the calendar. He didn’t even bother to darken and brighten the room to match the cycles of Hell. In the half-submerged gloom of his circus tent, surrounded on all sides by mountains of fire-breathing duckies, he could freak out in peace and quiet as the hours slid by like endless grains of sand.

That was why he didn’t realize what day it was until it was almost too late. 

If it wasn’t for the half-dead angel that crashed through the main hall, he might have missed the whole thing altogether. For the first time in days, his mind was strong and clear as he stared at the cherubim twitching on his floor. 

Extermination Day.

Charlie.

It was as if he’d mainlined a lightning bolt straight into his veins. He didn’t bother with a portal. He didn’t even bother to think. His six great wings unfurled and carried him towards the hotel faster than sound itself. And perhaps he hadn’t fallen out of favor after all, because he got there just in time to whisk Charlie out of harm’s way. Adam’s beady little eyes widened when he saw who it was.

Lucifer was so giddy with relief that he couldn’t resist a few jabs as he flew circles around the First Man. Adam fought to keep up, stuttering and spitting out profanities as he struggled to come up with a single clever comeback. 

“You’ve really let yourself go since Eden,” Lucifer couldn’t help but remark, rather sadly. What a shame – even after a millennia, Adam still possessed the conversational skills of a rock. What the Hell were they teaching the humans up there? Less than a few minutes had passed, and he was already growing bored of this exchange. He found his attention drifting to a far more enjoyable battle of wits from a few days ago…

Speaking of which, where was Alastor? 

He was distracted by Charlie, always Charlie, who transformed into a form he’d never seen before to stop Adam’s charge with one hand. An almighty rage that had lain dormant in him since the Fall reared its ugly head, and for a moment, all other thoughts were wiped from his mind. 

He dares? This pathetic, empty excuse for a human being dares threaten my Charlie? 

It was only later, after the battle, when there was time to talk and mourn for the fallen, that he heard Alastor hadn’t been seen since his battle with Adam. 

Alastor…fallen to Adam? It made logical sense, of course – as powerful as Alastor was, he was only an Overlord, and a young one to boot. Adam had had the entirety of human history to strengthen his power, and the angels had afforded him special abilities due to his status as the first human to enter Heaven. But still his mind struggled to comprehend it. It was like trying to understand how a Neanderthal had beaten an elegant war machine. 

A Neanderthal with a huge angelic blaster gun, he groused as he magicked a wall of timber into being. It was a good thing he hadn’t seen Alastor fall — he didn’t think he would have been able to stop himself from gutting Adam with his two bare hands if he had.

But at the same time, his limbs were suffused with a strange sense of relief. If Alastor had been taken out so easily, there was no way he was his fated companion. This was a good thing. A blessed turn of events. His equal match was still out there somewhere, and with any luck they would be free of unsightly defects like pointy teeth and cannibalistic tastes and a predilection for sadism. He was free! 

(So why was his chest aching so much?)

Then Alastor deigned to show his face, his smile as sharp as ever, his suit impeccably pressed, and Lucifer felt his heart beat again. Charlie and the rest of the hotel (except for Husk – strange, that) pressed in to touch him, to hug him, to bask in his strange enigmatic presence. To the untrained eye, he looked as good as new, as if he’d risen from a restful nap instead of a grueling battle. 

But Lucifer had spent the past few days agonizing over this demon. Going over every last detail in his mind until his features were firmly etched into his memory. And he knew, he knew something was wrong. There wasn’t any outward sign that gave it away – Alastor was even better at hiding pain than handing it out – but there was something in the careful way he slipped out of Charlie’s overenthusiastic embrace, the millisecond twitch of his shadow, the grin that was a shade too large that set Lucifer’s teeth on edge.

He’d ignored signs before. He’d tinkered on ducks and stupid useless things as Lilith had disappeared into the ether. He’d missed half of Charlie’s teenage years on projects that he couldn’t even remember. He wasn’t going to repeat the same mistakes again.

He ushered Charlie and Vaggie up to bed, insisting they take the master, brushing away their worried suggestions – “but we should help you get unpacked!” and “are you sure you’ll be able to find your room okay?”

He slipped Cherri a twenty to make herself scarce, and he made pointed suggestions to Husk and Angel Dust about where they could find some of the truly good booze back at his palace. His heart warmed a little as he watched Angel Dust slip a not-so-sneaky arm around Husk’s shoulders and bring him in close. Husk’s hard facade cracked a bit, his lips quirking up a bit as he pretended not to notice it. 

He couldn’t find Niffty or figure out where the odd creature slept at nights (did she even have a room?), but he figured she knew Alastor well enough by this point to leave him alone. 

Preparations complete, Lucifer ascended the staircase. At the top floor, instead of going left, towards his rooms, he took a deep breath and turned right. The hall got progressively darker as he closed in on the menacing radio tower. The shadows were deep here. They breathed and pulsed, as if he’d stepped into the maw of some giant beast. The air was humid, heavy with old mud and the ghostly aroma of a thousand dead bodies. 

It felt like Alastor was all around him, pressing against his bare skin, invading his lungs. A thrill went down his back as he raised his hand and knocked, just once. It sounded muffled in the damp and the dark. 

“Yes?” The radio static was so heavy he could hardly hear Alastor under it. He got as close to the door as possible.

“It’s me.” He didn’t say who it was. Alastor knew. 

There was a pause. “And what does the King of Hell want with a lowly facility manager at this late hour?”

Again, the tone of his voice crackled and popped, as if it was going in and out of signal. It sounded…weaker this time. Suddenly gripped with concern, Lucifer wrapped his hand around the knob and –

“DON’T.” 

The high frequency static ripped through the air like a sonic blast. He winced as a ringing in his ears momentarily knocked him off balance. Something wet dripped onto his shoulder. He swept his finger across it, surprised when it came up red. Alastor had burst his eardrums. 

That nasty, annoying, hard headed–!

“Okay, no more Mr. Nice Demon,” he muttered under his breath. Louder, so Alastor could hear him, he announced, “I’m coming in!”

He threw the door open. Or tried to, at least. Neon green threads made it impossible to open it more than a crack. He could slice them open, of course, but he didn’t really want to strain Alastor any further. 

“Are you serious?” He exclaimed, just a few seconds away from stomping his foot like a little kid. He wouldn’t let Alastor get the satisfaction of pushing him to such depths. “Something’s going on with you, don’t try to deny it. I can help. So let me in.” 

“Why?” The static had abated a bit, enough so that Lucifer could hear Alastor’s true voice. It sounded tired, as if their little exchange had exhausted him.

Because I might have been waiting for you since Creation Day. Ha! That would scare him off for good. Besides, it wasn’t like he was sure Gabriel had been talking about Alastor. No reason irritating them both before he was sure of it. 

“For Charlie,” he said simply. It was half-true. He might have been willing to help the irritating demon for his daughter’s sake even without this accursed prophecy. Maybe. 

To his surprise, the glowing green threads fell away, and the door swung open. The room was darker even than the hallway. He couldn’t see a thing. He stepped inside, flinching when the static washed over him again, as sharp as a slap. 

“Stop there.” 

“How am I supposed to do anything from here?” He asked, frustrated at the unbending wall of darkness in front of him. 

“Look. But do not touch.” 

A swarm of fireflies blinked into being, and Lucifer raged. 

[ikeromantic]

Burdens of the Belle

A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 2900 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 13-14 of the main route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 13 of a series.

First: Bravery Becomes Her

Previous: Reading, Interrupted

Chevalier was up most of the night preparing a report for his brothers at the round table. Such work should be beneath him, but he wanted to make it clear to them where Rhodolite stood. The stakes were too high this time to allow doubt and misgivings to derail. 

When it was time to speak, he laid out the facts and his case the way a bricklayer built a home. Laying his foundation in shared understanding and fact, things he knew his brothers were aware of and in agreement with. And from that, he laid out his findings, suppositions, and finally, his solution. By the time he finished, his throat felt dry, but he gave no sign of discomfort. Any hint of weakness in such a setting was unacceptable. 

He kept his eyes from the Belle’s face, where her reactions might distract him. He was aware of her presence in a way he did not want to be. Like a bit of sand against the skin. Yet he was glad she was there, even if he could not acknowledge it. Chev wanted her to understand what was at stake as much as he wanted his brothers to agree.

“That concludes my report.” Chevalier frowned over the circle of tense faces. No one said anything into the silence as they all grappled with the information he’d given them. He wasn’t going to let them sit paralyzed with their thoughts though. “We need to hold an immediate joint council with Jade and Benitoite to form an expeditionary force.”

Black gave a reluctant nod. “Obviously this new weapon type is a problem we can’t turn a blind eye to. If we do, we’ll have an even bigger threat on our hands. But . . .” Leon took a breath, “Invading Obsidian prematurely brings its own set of problems. For one, the anti-war faction. Just the rumor of a war with Obsidian is enough to expand their influence. And if they go on the attack, we’ll be in a civil war.”

Chev raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t something we can sit on and twiddle our thumbs over. Right now, Obsidian is at war on their northwestern border. It is a perfect opportunity to attack, while they are too busy to notice troop movements on their border with us, Jade, and Benitoite.”

“Even if that’s accurate, Obsidian splitting their forces between their borders is no guarantee of victory. I don’t want to lose lives and have nothing to show for it.” Leon’s scowl deepened. “If we carry out your plan, we will have casualties from battle with Obsidian and death in our borders from civil war. I just can’t accept that cost.”

Chevalier met his glare calmly. “There is no peace without sacrifice. Don’t give me that nonsense now, when you know what will come for us if we do not act.”

“Nonsense? You can’t expect us to go to war knowing the mass casualties that will result!” Leon’s voice rose, impassioned and full of a barely contained fury. 

Despite himself, Chev could not help but glance at the Belle. She was doing well so far it seemed, watching them with intent and making little notes for herself. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was writing, what she saw when she looked at them. 

Jin broke the tension between the second and fourth prince with a sigh. “Well. I’m at a loss. At this rate, we’ll never come to a decision.”

This seemed to loosen shoulders - and tongues - around the table. 

“By all rights, it’s a matter the king should decide on.” Yves spoke up, his usual haughty demeanor fractured by worry. He turned to Sariel. “What does the regent think?”

Sariel’s thin smile was pale, his lips pressed too tight for blood flow. “I’m purely a proxy. The future of the kingdom is something all of you must determine.”

Luke sat back hard, rocking his chair. His arms were crossed defensively over his chest. “Fine! So what do we do?”

Clavis shrugged. “We could decide it with the roll of the dice. Or a coin toss!”

“I hope that was a joke,” Licht replied sternly.

Chev suppressed his annoyance. No one wanted to bear the weight of this choice, it seemed. And he was not yet king, so he could not take the burden alone.

Then the Clown spoke up. “I’ve got a great idea.” He sounded too cheerful for this discussion, as if solving the choice of desserts and not the fate of a nation in peril. 

Yves snorted. “When a frivolous man thinks he has a great idea, you can be sure it’s quite stupid.”

Nokto grinned across the table at him. “Awww, don’t be like that!” With every eye turned balefully toward him, the Clown went on. “I was just thinking, it’s like you said. “This is a decision the king should make. But the regent is just a regent, and he bowed out. That leaves just us bickering princes. Except . . .” His gaze fell on Emma. “We have the Belle here. I think she should decide. Afterall, she gets to pick the king, so why not?”

Emma nearly dropped her pen. “Wait. What?” She looked like a rabbit staring down a pack of rabid hounds, frozen with terror. 

“It makes sense, right? Because we’ll accept her choice for king.” Nokto nodded as if this was the most sage advice. “When you think about it like that, the question of who will be king is pretty much the same as whether we will focus on internal or external policy.”

“I see,” Luke nodded.

Emma shook her head, bursting from her state of frozen fear. “Well I don’t!”

Nokto gave her a patronizing smile. “Now now, don’t get upset. Just tell us, for reference, which side you support.”

Chevalier felt a flicker of annoyance at the way his brother was putting the Belle on the spot. She had not made her choice yet, but she really didn’t need to. He knew he would be king and his choice was already clear. And such a decision, with the cost so clearly high, should not rest on her gentle heart. “That’s enough Clown. The Belle is a commoner, not royalty. Why are you trying to force her opinion? There is no point to hearing it.”

Reprimanded, Nokto bowed his head. “I know. I was just . . . kidding.” His mischievous smile did not fade despite his words, and as usual, his meaning was opaque to most. He looked up again, garnet eyes bright. “King Highness, it seems that Leon’s group is going to be difficult. Do you still want to continue with this fruitless meeting?”

“No. I have no intention of continuing something I know is pointless.” Though the outcome was expected, it still tasted bitter in his mouth. Chev stood and swept his cloak behind him. 

Leon’s brows shot up. “Hey! Are you leaving? We’re not done here!”

“We’ll regroup some other time. You can take this as an opportunity to reflect on your choice.” 

“Back at you,” Leon snapped. His jaw was clenched tight, and the muscles in his shoulders tense. 

Chevalier’s lips curled up at the attempted clever comeback. Black would never have the wit and cruelty to manage a truly cutting remark. Not that it mattered. Regardless of the reply, the outcome was the same. War was coming to Rhodolite and with every passing day there were fewer options open. 

He left. There was nothing here for him to do. 

***

The next evening, the Belle found him ensconced on the couch in her room, the only spot in the palace he could steal a moment of peace. Another book lay open on his lap as he studied more accounts of prior battles with Obsidian. She came in carefully balancing a tray of tea and light snacks, as if she were a servant. 

Chev watched her, wondering why she put herself through this again and again. Reaching out to him the way she did, with her kind gestures and understanding gaze. He was rude to her, cold, cruel even. Nothing good could come of his presence. Yet she still sought his company. As if . . .

“Would you like some tea?” Her smile was genuine, as much in her eyes as the line of her lips. 

“No sugar or milk.”

The Belle nodded. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She set the tray down and poured him a cup. “Here you are.” Her hands didn’t tremble at all as she held the delicate porcelain saucer and tea cup out to him, though she moved more slowly than usual.

He pretended to ignore her as she held it there a moment, waiting. She sighed and reached across him to set it on the table next to his seat. Emma was so close he could smell the light, sweet scent of her perfume. She was lovely as always, but there was something off today. A nervousness about her that he could sense more than see. 

Chevalier grabbed her hand as she drew back and pulled her closer. 

Emma gasped in surprise, but did not struggle. She watched him as he studied her, more curious than afraid of what he might do.

She was clearly tired, he thought, noticing the slight shadow under her eyes. A steady tension thrummed just under her skin, at odds with her pulse. Which sped up at his touch. Chevalier’s lips curled up just at the edges in a knowing smile. “You look terrible today.”

“Excuse me?” She drew up in an offended huff, her glare as hot as the summer sun.

“I would say you only got about an hour of sleep last night.” He knew he was right, no matter that she’d tried to hide it. 

Her brows lifted and her lips made an adorable ‘o’. 

Chev continued, certain now of his discernment. “You are feeling overwhelmed now that you realize what a heavy burden it is to choose a king.” He almost felt bad for her, having to act as Belle in these troubled times. But it was better to choose in the moment of crisis than to name a king in a time of peace, untested and unknown. 

He studied her a moment more, then let go and reached for his tea. She had that look on her face, the one that hovered between awe and anxiety. The one that meant she was trying to figure out how he’d guessed. Chevalier took a sip of tea and shrugged. “You’re just that easy to read.”

“Stop having conversations with my thoughts.” Emma rubbed her wrist, her expressive features shifting again to a cute pout.

Chev hoped that he hadn’t gripped her too hard. He meted out his strength where needed, and harming her would be a waste. That was surely the only reason for the twinge of concern. “I will stop when you stop showing every thought so plainly on your face.” He leaned back. “I didn’t need to read that in your expression though. I knew you were lying when you said you understood your position.”

The Belle took a nervous, shuffling step. “What are you talking about?”

“It was a few days ago now.” He waited for her to remember, continuing as comprehension lit her eyes. “The Belle has never been an important position. There is no point to worrying about the future of the kingdom. You must know your place.” He raised an eyebrow, wondering if she understood what he meant. She should not lose sleep over the inevitable change coming to Rhodolite. 

Emma seemed to deflate for a moment. Collapsing in on herself as her shoulders fell and her chin dropped low. Then, with a breath, she mustered herself and straightened her back again. “That may be, but the fact that I am choosing the next king has not changed.” 

Chev felt a flash of minor annoyance. She didn’t grasp what he meant. Why was it always so hard to speak in terms others could grasp? Facts were comforting. Emotional blather was a waste of breath. He wanted her to understand so badly, but all he could do was press on. “Such a trivial task is not worth worrying about. Once you choose a king, you are not responsible for his actions.” 

“What?”

He set his teacup back on the saucer before responding. “The responsibility for what happens after will not lie on you. It is the burden of the royals.” Chevalier waited for this to sink in, pleased when the Belle let out a breathy ‘oh!’. 

“Suppose you chose a king who then ran the kingdom into the ground with incompetence?” He reached out and took her hands in his. She felt so small and delicate to him, too fragile for whatever imagined burden she was trying to carry. “That would be purely the fault of the royals.” 

Emma nodded mutely. Her pulse raced under his fingertips as she stood there, listening. 

Chevalier ignored the way his own heart rebelled against his icy calm, thumping wildly and in all contradiction of sense. As if the warm pleasure of seeing her absorb the comfort he offered in the only way he knew how loosened all the bonds he’d placed around that traitor organ. “Responsibility for the future of this kingdom does not lie solely with the king. Rather it is shared across the whole royal family.” 

The tension beneath her skin ebbed away as his words took hold. Her shins brushed against his bent legs as she leaned forward.

“Neither I nor the other princes are such housebroken beasts that we would quietly follow a foolish king.” Chev’s voice was soft now, almost gentle. He did not notice the change. “It would be ridiculous to think such a burden would rest with a commoner.” Even one as uncommon as you. “Royalty must bear these heavy responsibilities alone.” 

She studied him for a moment as if unsure what to say. Then her smile returned, shyly, hiding at the soft edges of her lips. “Thank you.” 

Chevalier snorted. “You are such a soft-hearted one.” He could see the start of tears at the corner of her eyes. He let go of her hands and gave her forehead a gentle poke. 

“Ow!” She backed away and rubbed at her face. “Stop that!”

“Yes, that’s more like you. Brazenly barking at me.” He laughed as he saw her outrage erase the vestiges of her worry. Chev looked back at his book though he could still feel her eyes on him. There was a flicker of warmth in her gaze, a heat that had nothing to do with annoyance. She looked as if she might speak, but a loud knock interrupted whatever she might have said.

The Belle glanced at the door and back, then when Chevalier didn’t react, she went to open it. Rather than beckon the visitor in, she stepped outside and closed the door behind her. 

Chevalier could hear Clavis outside, his playful tone making its way past the heavy door.

“Belle, have you seen Chev?”

“Well . . . no. I - I haven’t seen him around. I’m sorry.” Emma’s reply made Chevalier smile. So she’d listened. 

Clavis sounded surprised, though whether he believed the Belle was anyone’s guess. “Really? Well if you do see him, please ask him to come by the office.”

Chevalier heard Emma lean back against the door. “Sure. Of course but . . . did something happen?”

“Oh yes.” There was laughter in the prince’s reply. “I heard something that Chev would find quite amusing.” 

“What would that be exactly?” Emma pressed her question, clearly worried about her decision to abide by Chev’s wishes. 

Clavis laughed. “Oh, I think I’ll just save that for his ears alone. Unless . . . do you think he is listening right now?”

“No.” Emma cleared her throat. “I’ll tell him to speak with you. If I see him.”

“If.” Clavis laughed again and then his footsteps receded. 

After a moment, the Belle returned. “Prince Chevalier -”

“Quiet.” Chev was sure Clavis had some juicy tidbit to share. He suspected he knew what it was, but there would be time to address it later. Right now he wanted to drink his tea and to relax. Emma’s presence made him feel . . . calm and tense at the same time. A pleasant sort of tightness that ran along his nerves and up his back. 

The Belle gave him a pouty look, but didn’t argue. She sat down next to him and pulled a slim book from a skirt pocket. Then she settled in to read. 

Chevalier pretended to be unaware of her, but the light pressure against his leg and the sound of her steady breath drew his interest away from the book in his lap. He’d read it before anyway. The laboriously detailed text layed out the supply lines, troop numbers, daily accounting, and other tedious specifics of running a war.

When he finally allowed himself to glance up, her breathing had steadied into the rhythm of slumber. Her chin rested on her chest, the book gripped in one hand, askew on her lap. Chev shifted a little closer and carefully draped his arm over her shoulders. 

She sighed and snuggled into his side, resting her head on his chest. 

The coldness in his eyes abated as he gazed at the Belle’s sleeping face. Chevalier couldn’t see his soft smile, nor how gently he brushed the hair back from her face. If he had, he might not have recognized himself in that moment, with his shield of ice lowered. 

He would put her to bed, he thought. She needed the rest. But first . . . he should wait. Because otherwise she would wake and protest. If he gave her a bit of time to fall more deeply asleep, Emma wouldn’t even notice being picked up. That was the reason he had to just sit here with her pressed tight to his side. Feeling her heart beat in time with his own. No other reason. None at all.

Next: Distance

[stormsfell]

𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥,  𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘵,  𝘂𝗻𝗯𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗻.

˚  ❛  oktay  cubuk  ,  nonbinary  &  he/him  ,  twenty  -  eight  —  the  king  had  summoned  NADIR  MARTELL  of  HOUSE  MARTELL,  PRINCE  of  SUNSPEAR  to  be  judged  upon  their  BRAZEN  and  APATHETIC  nature,  under  his  justice  as  the  ruler  of  the  seven  kingdoms  and  protector  of  the  realm.  while  they  are  notably  EQUABLE  and  INTUITIVE,  many  at  court  are  at  odds  when  it  comes  to  their  true  nature  and  place  in  king’s  landing,  especially  as  they  remind  them  of  SHARP  EYES  GLITTERING  IN  SUNLIGHT  &  A  NEEDLE  THAT  WON’T  ALIGN  ;  A  COMPASS  ALREADY  BROKEN.  in  another  universe,  far  beyond  the  realms  of  the  red  keep,  they  would  have  been  comparable  to  NIKOLAI  LANTSOV  (  grishaverse  )  &  TARTAGLIA  (  genshin  impact  ),  of  whom  they  share  an  almost  uncanny  resemblance  to.  as  their  true  loyalty  lies  to  HOUSE  MARTELL,  when  told  of  robert’s  first  rebellion,  it  was  unsurprising  how  they  were  IMPARTIAL  WITH  the  insurgence  against  the  crown.  with  the  tides  rapidly  shifting  throughout  the  realm,  there  is  no  telling  what  fates  have  in  store  for  them,  as  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones,  you  live,  or  you  die  —  (  k,  any  pronouns,  twenty6,  aest.  )

i.  chronicles.

some  say  that  king  trystane  and  queen  ornella  martell  lifted  their  second  child  out  of  the  ocean  itself,  right  between  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tides,  just  after  the  sea  spat  him  out  and  before  the  waves  swallowed  him  again.  all  legends  have  some  semblance  of  truth  to  them.  the  water  beat  against  the  shoreline  just  outside  the  tower  of  the  sun  the  night  you  were  born  —  prince  nadir  nymeros  martell,  welcomed  by  your  father,  mother,  and  the  sea.

you  never  understood  why  it  was  only  many  moons  ago  since  the  sea  last  was  a  friend  to  the  forces  at  sunspear.  growing  up,  as  your  family  looked  inward  to  the  great  lands  of  dorne  and  the  rest  of  westeros  beyond  it,  you  turned  to  the  shore  and  never  looked  back.  your  toes  first  sunk  into  the  sand,  then  the  water  came  ankle-deep,  and  then  you  go  under  —  you  drown  in  it,  in  the  tender  embrace  of  the  violent  waves.

the  call  of  the  sea  was  to  thank  for  what  you  became:  brutal,  strong,  almost  wild.  but  make  no  mistake,  you  were  born  a  child  of  the  great  desert  of  dorne.  the  sun  you  wear  well,  eyes  glittering  and  white  teeth  gleaming  under  its  rays  even  as  you  march  north  past  the  red  mountains  to  see  the  rest  of  the  kingdom  of  westeros.  the  shore  says,  you  may  part  with  us,  for  the  sun  will  follow  no  matter  where  you  lead.  with  it  beating  at  your  back,  you  are  free.

this  far  away  from  the  imposing  towers  of  the  red  keep  and  the  iron  throne,  the  targaryen  crown  feels  nothing  more  than  a  mere  trinket,  a  story  of  fire  and  blood  and  dragons  with  three  heads.  it  is  only  now,  when  the  whispers  of  the  ravens  have  reached  even  the  farthest  corner  of  sunspear,  that  you  turn  your  head  and  look.  there  is  a  storm  brewing  on  the  horizon,  and  you  cannot  run�� to  the  sea  forever,  no  matter  how  endless  it  looks  from  shore.

so  you  reminisce  of  the  first  time  you  fell  into  its  embrace  and  you  turn  to  it  once  more.  be  my  friend,  you  say.  be  my  lover.  at  sunspear  you  seek  those  who  wish  to  live  a  life  out  at  sea,  and  together  you  build.  a  fishing  boat,  a  ship,  a  naval  battalion  —  who  can  say?  all  you  know  is  that  it  is  time  for  house  martell  to  remember  their  roots  in  the  ten  thousand  ships.

ii.  headcanons.

nadir  has  a  small  ship,  one  not  nearly  enough  to  lead  a  naval  battalion,  but  it  is  his  all  the  same.  it  is  aptly  named  nameless.

he  is  not  shy  of  making  his  distaste  for  most  westerosi  fashion  known.  even  far  from  the  desert  lands  of  dorne,  he  will  only  wear  dresses  in  the  style  of  his  homeland.

iii.   links.

pinterest  board.

[biconickyoshi]

Random dark Zukaang thoughts for your au: Zuko getting taken by sand benders instead of Appa. A fire nation prince would get a more heafty price than an animal. Aangs freak out than when he finds the sandbenders who took zuko and sold him.

Ooooo yeah that would be pretty dark, I hadn’t even considered going that route but it definitely would make sense! I already have an outline for how I would like for the second half of the Earth Kingdom arc to go, but usually when I start actually writing my chapters I end up changing things as I go depending on how well I feel they fit the flow of the story.

Thanks for sharing, I love to hear y’all’s predictions about where the story is gonna go! :)