#so sorry this took me so so long queen but i had to craft a world

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

I know everyone has done different circumstances of birth but I raise u one more

One where all of the humans r sent back to earth (including norm and max sorry guys) AND THEN they find spider

The opportunities r endless - in this universe jake sully has no choice but to adopt him because he's the only one who knows anything about humans (though this is pre neteyam so he still has no idea about baby's) neytiri and her acceptance is up in the air atm, I like to think she'd be a good step mum if not an actual mum to him - at least until the humans come back and she drifts from him

Ugh!!! The angst potential of him maybe still getting kidnapped, 2ould they still run away, how would he reac to being around all these humans (he really would be full navi) i need this in my soul

OH I LIKE THIS, I am very sad about Norm and Max tho cause I am a HUGE Norm Spellman stan, the man is truly an icon.

HOWEVER.

Making sure he had the technology to survive would be crazy. It would really have to be one of those fucking blessed by Eywa fics because why would the humans have left supplies laying around, and there aren't masks that are baby sized? So if he's not blessed then Neytiri, Jake, and Mo'at are taking turns living in Hells Gate to watch Spider until he can wear a mask. Spider and his daily guardian fucking around in the empty shell of Hell's Gate is such a bittersweet idea. I think he's the clans baby tho, especially if he's blessed. We'll focus on him being blessed, because it's easier.

He's Mo'at's little helper particularly, because before Neteyam Jake and Neytiri were really busy rebuilding and working, so Mo'at is just working with Spider just strapped to her chest or playing by her feet. He's a comforting little presence by her side. She didn't usually have someone with her all the time after Sylwanin died, Eytukan was always busy and Neytiri was never good at sitting still. But Spider gives her focus, and she knows he is a gift from Eywa to them all. For her, he is Sylwanin's warmth beside her learning to heal. To Jake, he is a reminder of his past and a vision of his future. For Neytiri, he is a chance to let go of immense pain.

If you come to get help from the tsahík you tell her what's wrong while holding the baby. Emotional support Spider, he's got a tiny tiny hand on your cheek and then the cut on your arm doesn't hurt as much. All the children that survived the war are obsessed with him, because he did too. He's a miracle, proof that you can get through anything (sometimes with a little help from Eywa), and I think it gives them a little comfort.

Neytiri takes a long time to warm up to him. She helps Jake and Mo'at care for him because she can see how much it helps them, how much he means to them. She likes him, he is cute and sweet and she sees how positively he affects her mate and her mother. But she can't look him in the eyes for almost a year. I think when she does, and she Sees him, it's after Neteyam is born and she sees the way Spider pats his cheek or cries when Neteyam is taken away from him. She remembers being upset when Sylwanin was gone when she was younger. I think after that she's ride or die for him, because Neteyam has a sibling, and that means the world.

Maybe they don't know who his father is, or his real name. Without Norm and Max and the other humans, Jake wouldn't know shit about how to check lol. Jake named him Spider because when they found him he had crawled out of the makeshift crib he'd been hidden in. Maybe they find out when the humans return, and Neytiri finds herself unable to look at Spider again. She's devastated, because he's been her SON for so long. She thought she was past this. She tries to hide it from him, talks to her mother and to Jake, but Spider notices. He spends the night with Mo'at and she cries to Jake thinking he hates her but he actually just didn't want her to have to see him, it's very emotional. Lo'ak tries to get his mind off of it by taking them to visit the old shack, to learn more about his real dad. Boom capture. Devastating, truly. They try to go after Spider but he's already at Bridgehead, and Jake comes to the horrible realization that going after him would mean more casualties than recoveries.

Spider in capture thinking his family hates him now and he's stuck with the man who caused it all, Neytiri in Awa'atlu thinking Spider hates her and she caused her family to be torn apart. Ultimate angst everyone.

[farmerstarter]

eeee i love your work! could you do something with a fem (or gn that’s fine) reader with haley? maybe having a girls night? thank you so much! have a lovely day or night!!! :) 🩷🩷

ʚ📸ɞ ˚ · . A Girl's Night with Haley :

Tags: Haley from SDV x fem!reader

I'm so sorry this took so long anon! I got lazy for the past few days and didn't want to do any requests ^^; but I hope you like this, despite its lateness. If you have any requests then feel free to send me an ask!

🎀You and Haley didn't start off on the right foot so it's surreal to be in her room for a one-on-one girls night. If you told your past self you were sitting on her vanity, looking at the little red boats of her beach wallpaper and having Haley comb through your hair, she'd laugh in your face. But you were here, doing exactly that. Haley sent you a letter earlier that morning, inviting you to her room to spend the night. It was delicate, carefully crafted than the usual letter you'd get from your parents or Lewis. It smelled like Haley's perfume, a sweet undertone of cocoa. Even had a lipstick kiss mark at the end to seal the deal. You hardly dress up. The fanciest dress you've ever worn was for the Flower Dance, which you spent standing on the sidelines, totally not staring at Haley while she spun around. It's not that you like her (you totally do), but you decided to put on your better pairs of boots for the occasion. You're sure Haley would like the gesture and from her looking you up and down with a smile, it worked. But the boots weren't the reason why she was smiling.

🎀Haley baked cookies for you. They're in the shape of chickens. Well, as close to chickens as they could get. There were white ones, brown ones, blue ones, and one black one for the void chicken that's in your coop. There were as many cookies as chickens that you have. You could tell which cookie was which chicken. It surprised you. You've only shown Haley your coop once and you thought she was too busy making sure she didn't ruin her shoes. The cookies were your favorite flavor.

🎀It was spring, so the only thing that Haley has been thinking about was the Flower Dance. She insisted you help her practice her dance moves. She wanted to be Flower Queen for the sixth time in a row. You and her danced in the middle of her bedroom, your hands intertwined together. The two of you would take turns twirling each other, both of you moving closer after each spin. You and Haley ended up slow dancing in each others arms. She asked you to be her dance partner right then and there. You happily accepted. She later joked that she wouldn't mind as much if you won Flower Queen instead of her.

🎀You had sunflowers for Haley, your go-to gift for her. Literally the only reason why you started growing them on your farm. And as she always does, she fawns over it and says her thanks. You soon found out that she keeps your sunflowers in a vase in her bedroom. And for the sunflowers that were about to wilt, she told you that she turned them into bookmarks with Emily's help. She later told you her plan to make you and her flower crowns for the Flower Dance out of the sunflowers you give her 🥺

🎀It didn't take long for Haley to take out her camera. You two had a makeshift photoshoot, using all the hats, scarves and accessories in Haley's closet as props. Haley set her camera up on a tripod, and she would run to you to pose before the timer would run and snap a photo. The photos are an amalgamation of faces, some overly serious, most were just big smiles and blushing cheeks. Haley's favorite photo is of her kissing your cheek, the two of you dressed up in Haley's winter clothes. You decided it's your favorite as well. Haley keeps that picture framed on her bedside table.

🎀You've watched "The Brave Little Sapling", both of you wearing pajamas, and huddled together on Haley's bed with her head resting on your shoulder and cappuccino mousse cake on both your laps.

🎀The two of you baked pink cake in the kitchen, trying to be quiet because it was 1 in the morning. The two of you got that idea after finding a recipe for it in one of the many magazines that Haley has. It turned out great, a bit lopsided but that didn't stop Haley from taking pictures of your creation. It had little heart candies sprinkled on top of it. Haley broke her spring diet to eat a slice with you.

🎀You left the next morning with leftover cookies, one of Haley's hats ("It's yours now, I don't want my (y/n) getting sunburnt), and a heart shaped locket with a picture of Haley. Haley's got one for her too, one with your picture in it. She gave it to you the moment you were about to leave for home. She was descreet about it, making sure Emily was out of sight. She slipped it in your front pocket, blushing. And of course, she said good bye with a quick peck on the cheek.

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

The Dragon and the Wolf

Chapter 4

Heyyyyyyy sorry for the delay everyone! I’ve been busy with work and setting up my bearded dragon’s enclosure (his name is Caraxes). But here is chapter 4, I hope you enjoy!

Trigger Warnings: non con acts, I used the google translate equivalent for High Valyrian so hopefully it’s right but who knows tbh, black mail (kinda), mean Aemond, and vouyerism kind of?

Divider by @zaldritzosrose

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly after your brother’s match with Aemond. He went on to fight a few more rounds before getting knocked off his horse by Prince Daemon. Jacaerys also lasted a bit longer before losing a match against the Baratheon lord.

Aemond did end up reappearing for another match or so, but he too was bested by the Rogue Prince who ended up being this tourney’s winner. Aemond never once looked in your direction.

While the men fought below you, you found plenty of time to converse with the two princesses and even with the Queen. You found out that Princess Helaena enjoyed insects and embroidery and while you were not particularly fond of bugs you did enjoy the same craft. Princess Rhaenyra spoke to you about her dragon, Syrax and you listened intently as she described what it was like to fly across the skies.

When the festivities ended, you found yourself walking besides Helaena through the Keep. “I particularly enjoy the gardens.” Helaena answered when you asked her where she preferred to spend her time.

“Then you will have to show them to me tomorrow!” You chirped with a smile. The Green Princess was a kind soul and you found that you enjoyed her presence. “Will you be attending your father’s feast tonight?”

The princess shrugged slightly. “I’ve never been very good with that many people. I only plan to stay as long as I need to.”

You nodded as the two of you stopped in front of your door. “Of course. In any case I look forward to seeing you again, my princess.” You gave her a small curtsy that caused her to blush slightly.

“Oh there’s no need for that, please just call me Helaena.” She shook her head and tried to pull you back up.

You nodded again. “Well then I will see you soon Helaena.”

The Princess nodded excitedly before hurrying away to her own chambers. You heaved an exhausted sigh thinking about the night ahead of you.

Adianna and Ursa worked as quickly as a winter storm to prepare you for the feast that was in a few short hours. You were grinning from ear to ear as your hair was elegantly pinned up and you were helped into a beautiful white gown that had flared sleeves and a gray belted chain.

After the two women left you twirled impulsively in front of the massive floor length mirror in your room. You felt pretty. You weren’t usually a fan of the Southern style, opting instead for the traditional furs that the northerners were known for but twirling in this dress made you rethink your sense of style.

When you met up with Cregan, you gleefully took his arm before heading to the main throne room. The once intimidating room had been transformed into a welcoming dining hall with extra lit candles and rich decorations lining rows of tables. In between the rows in the middle of the room there was a wide space where many of the lords and ladies were mingling together to the soothing melody played by a nearby group of musicians.

Craning your neck slightly, you were able to find Helaena at the front of the room seated near her husband who seemed like he had already begun indulging in the available wines. She gave you a sweet smile before her attention was pulled away by her mother.

On the other side of the table you noticed Rhaenyra and her children all seated besides each other. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as Jacaerys flashed you a quick grin.

You felt even more at ease when you were unable to find Prince Aemond in the crowd.

“You really like him. Don’t you?” Cregan followed your gaze back to Princess Rhaenyra’s oldest son who had risen from his chair and attempted to pass through the crowd.

“I do. I think.” You shrugged, red in the face. “From what I’ve seen of him he is kind and honorable. Someone father would have approved of.” You squeezed Cregan’s hand reassuringly as the Prince got closer.

“I agree.” Cregan nodded solemnly, saying nothing else as the Prince appeared before you two.

“Lord Stark, lady Stark.” The two of you bowed slightly to him as he continued. “I’m so glad to run into you here. I was hoping to ask your sister for a dance.” He gave your brother a hopeful smile.

“Of course.” Cregan released your hand from his side returning the reassuring squeeze you had just given him. “My sister loves to dance.”

“Well I must confess I’m not the most skilled on the dance floor so you may have to lead the way, my lady.” You giggled quietly before taking his outstretched hand.

As he led you through the crowd a lively song started and you soon found the two of you swirling around the floor along other couplings. “My brother doesn’t respond well to being lied to, my prince.” You laughed as the two of you performed a particularly skilled twirl.

“Whatever do you mean?” Jacaerys gently grasped one of your hands before placing his own hand on the small of your back. A teasing smile graced his face as he led you into a slower dance as the song changed.

“You are a wonderful dancer. Something my toes are very grateful for.” The two of you swayed softly to the rhythm, forgetting everyone around you as you finally had a chance to get to know each other.

“My late father, Prince Laenor, was an exceptional dancer.” He said softly. “He taught me the basics when I was younger. We would dance in front of the hearth before bed and my mother would scold him for riling us up but smiled as she did so.”

“He sounds like he was a wonderful man.”

“He was.” Jacaerys replied. “He would have liked you. I know that’s completely strange to say, we barely know each other and yet successful marriages have been made on less.” He gave you a hopeful look and you nodded excitedly. “What I’m trying to say is-“

“Nephew.” You recognized the low voice as Aemond appeared behind you. “My lady Stark.” You gave him a polite bow while Jacaerys glared at him.

“Prince Aemond.” You came crashing back to reality as he held out his hand.

“I hope you do not mind if I steal the lady away for a dance.”

Jacaerys rolled his eyes at the statement. “The lady Stark and I were actually in the middle of-“

“Wonderful.” Aemond grabbed your hand tightly before pulling you away from the brown haired prince.

The taller man finally stopped on the other end of the floor before placing his hand in yours and the other on your hip. Similar to what Jacaerys had done but lower than the first man. “As much as I appreciate the invitation to dance, my prince, Prince Jacaerys was-“

“Your brother fights well.” He said, sharply interrupting you before you could protest. The two of you went through the motions in a waltz-like dance as he spoke.

“Thank you, my prince. You fought valiantly as well.” You found it interesting how the man in front of you only had one eye and yet you could still feel his stare boring into you as if there were two.

“I was told you are a fan of the histories.” Aemond continued, turning you so your back was to him.

“Indeed I am.” You didn’t know where this stilted conversation was going and hoped that Aemond would also see this and finish the dance in silence. Unfortunately the man continued on.

��It’s interesting.” Aemond scoffed as you caught another glance of Jace during a twirl. “I was under the impression that the Starks of all people would be the least likely to wed themselves off to a bastard.” You blinked at his treasonous words and huffed at his sudden switch in demeanor.

“You are lucky that no one heard that.” You whispered harshly. “A man lost his head today for saying such a thing.”

Aemond grinned at you as you finally seemed to take interest in his conversation.

“Well I had no other option seeing as you avoid any other conversation topic. Tell me were you always this closed off or is it my eye that turns you away?”

You rolled your eyes at him incredulously. Of course he would blame your disinterest in him on his eye. But to be honest, you didn’t find his handicap disgusting or revolting, it was more the personality behind it that soured your opinion of the blonde prince.

“I’m disappointed that you think so little of me, my prince.” You wondered how long this song would last and prayed that it would end soon so that you could return to the brown haired prince. “It is not your scar that sours my opinion of you or any other superficial attribute, it is what’s behind that scar I do not like.”

Aemond flinched slightly but you continued before he could speak. “I have only met you twice counting this dance here and now and both times you have been selfish and arrogant. I should not be surprised, you are a prince so perhaps you have never been kept from something you wanted, never told no. Well, allow me to be your first.” The song ended and you stepped back from him, shock showing in his eye.

You shook your head slightly before making your way towards the exit. ‘I just need some air.’ You thought to yourself trying to ignore the anger rising within you.

Keeping your face relatively neutral so as to not attract the attention of the other partygoers, you forced your way out into the cool night air. Perhaps you would check out the gardens that Helaena had spoken so much about.

As your feet carried you further and further away from the revelry, you paused slightly hearing several heavy footsteps behind you.

You tried to turn around, but gasped as your head hit the wall with a dull thud and you found yourself eye to eye with an angry Aemond Targaryen. “Our business is not yet concluded, lady Stark.” He grinned at you as you blinked at him in shock.

“My prince-“

Aemond shushed you quietly, keeping a firm grip on your upper arms as he pushed you further into the stone wall. “I would be more quiet, lady Stark.” One of his hands snaked across your body before grabbing the skirt of your dress and beginning to pull it up. “We wouldn’t want anyone to stumble across us in such an… improper position.”

“Aemond please… I’m- I’m a lady I can’t-“ You whispered harshly. You tried not to focus on the feeling of your skirts being shoved up by his long fingers and prayed to any god that would listen that he would stop.

“I know I know.” He cooed softly pulling your small clothes to the side. “I won’t take your maidenhead tonight. I just want a taste for now.” His fake sympathetic tone made you start to shake as he brushed his fingers lightly over your mound. He said he wouldn’t fuck you tonight, but his promise for the future made fat tears roll down your cheeks. You regretted ever opening your mouth as his touch invaded all of your senses.

“Gods you’re divine.” He buried his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply as he rubbed your clit in a way that made your legs start to buckle.

You didn’t feel pretty anymore, you didn’t feel as hopeful as you had been when you entered the feast. All you felt was disgust as your core became slicker.

“Good girl.” He soothingly whispered in your ear as his fingers slipped into your heat and you fought to stay quiet. “Ñuha sȳz riña.” (My good girl) The High Valyrian rolled off of his tongue easily but you had no clue what the man had said, only hoping that it wasn’t as cruel as the act he was performing now.

You moaned involuntarily and felt him smile against your neck as he twisted his fingers deeper inside hitting a spongey spot that made you see stars. “Gōntan ao really pendagon i’d ivestragī bona nādrēsy emagon mirre hen bisa?” (Did you really think I’d let that bastard have all of this?)

“W-what are you-“ Your eyes were half lidded as you heard him whisper into your neck before peppering it with small kisses. He shushed you again and the dam you had built finally broke.

You let out a breathy moan as evidence of your arousal coated the Prince’s fingers.

“Good work Ñuha zoklītsos.” (My little wolf). You gasped as he removed his fingers from your core and pulled them from under your skirts to reveal his glistening fingers. “I will let my mother know that you have accepted my proposal of marriage.”

“What?” You sputtered out, breaking out of the stupor he had placed you under. “I have done no such thing!” You took a deep breath to keep yourself from yelling. “You assaulted my virtue, I would never marry you.” You cringed as Aemond shrugged before sucking your spend off of his fingers.

“Then you will have to explain to your brother and any potential suitors why we were seen together performing martial acts.” He dried his fingers in a crease of your gown before grabbing your chin tightly and angling it upwards. You felt ice spread through your veins as you made eye contact with Lady Redwyne, a lady even you knew as a gossip. The older woman paled before raising a hand to her mouth and running back into the ballroom.

“It is interesting, really. For someone so adept in social situations that Lady Redwyne always steals away to that very balcony a few hours into the feasts.” He released your chin and patted you softly on the cheek. Before walking towards the main room.

“You set me up.” You whispered brokenly. Feeling more tears fall as you realize that everyone would know about this by the morning. House Stark would be disgraced. Your brother would be disgraced and it was all your fault. You wished you had tried harder.

“I did. You left me no other choice.” Aemond paused and gave you another searing look. “Of course the Lady may be persuaded to keep this particular piece of information to herself if the Queen were to ask and provide compensation. Something that I would be all to happy to arrange for my future bride.” He gave you an expectant look, waiting for you to crumble.

Your hands trembled and you shoved them behind you, trying to appear braver than you were. “Fine.” You conceded with a defeated sigh. “Please make this go away.”

You didn’t look up from the floor, didn’t want to see his smug face but you could hear it in his voice. “As you wish Ñuha zoklītsos.” (My little wolf.)

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tag list 🏷️

@dixie-elocin

@shari-berri

@ka1afbr

@sepherinaspoppies

@gorlillaglue25

@indycaelumskywalker

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Eighteen

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Sorry for blue balling you for the past two weeks, but we're finally at the long-awaited feast for Aegon's 20th birthday! I hope my kitty meow meow gets everything he wishes for. Thank you so much for sticking with me through 18 chapters and counting! Y'all have no idea how much it means to me when I see every comment, note, or notification regarding this story. It always makes me so happy. :)

Chapter Warnings: Ableism, implied sex slavery.

"scream 

so that one day a

hundred years from now

another sister will not have to dry her tears 

wondering where in history 

she lost her voice."

- Jasmin Kaur

You were in the guest chambers, readying for the feast that concluded this week-long celebration. The days had been daunting, anxiety and hardship looming over you like a cloud covering the morning sun. You hoped the future held a more effortless and less taxing light, but your sense made you believe otherwise.

Fiora and Dyana took to bathing you, assuring your flesh had no speckle of dirt or sebum, inspecting each limb, then scrubbing with a floral soap imported from Yi Ti. They changed the typical lavender body oil you wore to a sweet and uplifting scent of Port Wine Magnolia for the special occasion, the candy-smelling flowers that were one of the many planted in Aegon the Conqueror's Garden. Jeyne sorted your attire, holding pieces of different golden jewelry to the sparkling cider of embroidered fabric that was your dress.

It was not your usual color choice, finding comfort with your family's statement reds and blacks. But tonight was not about Houses and the game of thrones you constantly played. It was only an evening meant for you to unwind, perhaps indulge more in food and wine, and dance until your feet bled.

You were drained from the daytime already, desiring to crawl under your refreshing cotton blankets and sleep until your servants woke you in the morn.

Jeyne hardened your struggle with consciousness as her gentle movements in your hair made you relax further, leaving your black tresses in the same underlying style from before but braiding it elegantly and sticking twinkling Aurelian pins to hold the thickness together.

The three ladies ushered you out to the Great Hall, escorting you until you heard the waves of laughter and the hum of music. The tall oak and bronze doors were left open for the many entering and exiting guests, chuckling in their expensive and different-colored outfits, each aiming to display their wealth to those around them. Two guards stood on each side of the frame, hands hanging stiffly at their sides.

The fare had yet to be served, but the small group of musicians in the corner played a spirited tune for the people dancing and clapping between the rows of long tables, a substantial pile of gifts just out of view. You wondered if Aegon was asked for input on this. You were sure if he was that there would be much fewer male servants working tonight and more women as you took an open seat closer to the royal family.

You assumed that you would be given a place at the high tableland with them since you were also a royal, but every chair was taken though there was plenty of room to fit more. No doubt a detail Queen Alicent enforced to slight your faction of uninvited Targaryens and further plant the seeds of their secession in the court's mind. Everything with the Hightowers was carefully planned and crafted to the final minute detail. You were zany to think tonight would be any different.

A male orderly walking with a silver tray in his palm caught your attention, signaling him to ask for a drink while you waited for the celebration to begin with the arrival of the King.

From Aegon's elevated off-centered place at the royal table, he could see all who came and left, sizing each noblewoman on who would be the easiest to bed. He was drowning in his cups before you entered, his blurry vision creating an almost ethereal glow to your silhouette in the gilded room.

You looked stunning, utterly unaware of the Prince's gaze. Aegon nearly lost his grip on his chalice filled with his favorite wine as he saw your sandy dress, dragons of the same color sewn into the bodice, reminding him of Sunfyre.

Did you pick that shade specifically for him, knowing it was his favorite? Had you stood in your bed chambers in your thin chemise, nipples pert from the cold air as you stared between your plethora of gowns and, by chance, settled with something he adored? No. You were a pragmatic woman, meticulously determining your and your opponent's next ten moves. You choose this for him.

Aegon knew you weren't upset after last night, a sentiment of relief settling in his gut along with the wine. It was just the loss of your post-coupling bliss that allowed doubt to fester. His little dragon was finally experiencing the emotions and urges that came with eros and didn't know how to cope appropriately. He remembered when he first encountered it. That insatiable itch. Having been exposed to sex at such a young age, Aegon understood what to do and how to handle it, placing his fist on his more petite cock during youth and pumping it until ecstasy.

You had grown in many ways, but with regards to fucking, you were still that same little girl from Flea Bottom with those peculiar, searching eyes, looking to him for guidance as you asked for the knowledge of pleasure.

The band finished playing their last melody as the King entered, the dancers parting like the sea to make room for his chair as they carried him to the middle of the high table. There was a small bandage on his cheek that had not been there earlier, and it made you smile, knowing that someone took your words seriously. Viserys stood from his wooden throne, using the table for support as he raised his brass goblet to the room.

"A toast," he wheezed, gazing at nothing imparticular, "in celebration of this joyous occasion. My eldest son, Prince Aegon, is now a youthful twenty, married to his beautiful Lady Wife with two healthy children." You noticed Helaena fidgeting in her olive green dress, looking down at her empty silver plate. "Let us drain our cups to the children of the House of The Dragon! May they live long and prosperous lives..."

Viserys trailed off with a cough but was drowned out by the roars of people shouting "hear! hear!" to his toast, vibrating the high narrow windows as the musicians started another upbeat tune.

Servants dressed in red emerged from the oak and bronze doors, carrying plates and trays of different food. Scores of delicacies were served before you. They brought pigs, mutton, goose, venison, and enough hearty sides to feed the entirety of Flea Bottom into the Great Hall. The smell was enough to make your mouth water, waiting to be served after the royal family as you took a swig of your wine, your rings clinking against the cup.

Through the flurry of servants and maids, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. An uneasy feeling washed over you as a woman set a platter of meat on the table, blocking your vision for a moment but then revealing the fierce look of Dalton Greyjoy across the room. You had the urge to give him an annoyed expression for staring but thought better of it as you remembered his importance and position. Instead, you extended a smile, nodding your head as you began to plate heapings of food.

The eldest Prince was too engrossed with the arrangements of sweets in front of his mother to notice the exchange, sneaking a hand to snatch a sugar-coated puff pastry before the Queen could stop him.

Soon you had your full, eating in silence as the nobleman next to you was not one for conversation, no matter how you tried to start one. You could still feel Dalton's watchful brown eyes on you, attempting to ignore him as he observed every sip of wine and swallow of food you took. With the screech of Ser Otto Hightower's chair, he announced that the gift ceremony could commence, snapping Aegon out of his dessert-induced trance.

You were apprehensive about the present you got him, a simple, tiny box tucked into your skirt pocket. It was commissioned before what happened last night when you were in a happier and more sentimental mood. You regretted it sorely as you saw the different Lords and Ladies kneel before Aegon sat in a carved wooden chair before his family.

They bestowed him with countless grandiose and superficial gifts of swords, pelts, jewels, and a diamond-encrusted wine decanter. At one point, a Lord from Pentos came strolling in with two caramel-skinned women, all clad in turquoise and bronze. They were so beautiful and exotic-looking that they would shame the most gorgeous women in Westeros.

"A gift to you, my Prince," the man bowed, gesturing the women forward as their metal jewelry jingled. "My pick of the most beautiful desert flowers. May they serve you well in whatever way you desire."

The Queen bowed her head in embarrassment as her son eagerly rose from his seat, gathering the women under his arms as he thanked the man most graciously. Aemond placed a comforting hand on Helaena's back as she looked forward, not entirely seeing what was happening. Your expression mirrored Alicent's, looking away with downturned lips as Aegon stole a glance as he returned to his honorary throne.

You felt like a fool for getting him something so plain, the box it resided in burning through the palms of your hands. It would have been best had trusted your gut when walking into the local jewelsmith. At first, your present was meant to be an insult, knowing his desire for extravagant things and only getting something plain, but after the moment you shared in the Godswood, you decided to make an ordinary object into something special.

Your lip was nearly raw from your incessant chewing, feeling the thin liquid of blood pool into your mouth as you ripped a thin piece of skin.

After the line of people dwindled to only a few, you gained the courage to step in with the rest of the noble people, shifting your weight on the soles of your feet in anxiety. It also didn't help as you felt Ser Dalton stare at the side of your face, the urge to unsheath the dagger from your calve and plunge it into each of his annoyingly observant brown eyes. Life would be better without men in the world, you thought to yourself.

Soon you were only a meter away from Aegon and his two desert flowers leaning over his form, whispering words you did not want to hear as they trailed their fingers along his skin. He quickly swatted them away once he saw you standing before him. You inwardly scoffed as you bowed into a deep curtsy, your breasts nearly spilling out of your bodice, much to the Prince's delight.

He could now see you in all your beauty. The way your dress sparkled in the candle-lit room, watching your decorated chest rise with unsteady breaths. Aegon hadn't noticed the half-golden wreath of flowers on the back of your head, contrasting wildly from your silky black hair with rings of the same metal on your blanched fingers tightly gripping a small box. You were a picture of the Maiden with your radiant youth and innocence, and despite his best efforts, he felt his heart beat faster as he watched your painted lips move.

"Lady Targaryen, daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen," you introduced, even though Aegon knew who you were.

"Come now, sweet cousin! No need for formalities; we are kin!" He said jubilantly, his voice echoing in the cavernous hall. Aegon signaled a serving maid for another glass of wine, downing the entire contents of it and placing it back on the tray. "Now, what have you gotten me, cousin?"

You unfurled your grip, walking closer to Aegon before a steward came to have you gave the present to him. The Prince waved dismissively, rising from his chair as he met you at the foot of the stone stairs.

Opening the tightly sealed case, you took a breath.

"A ring for the eldest Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, crafted by the finest jewelsmith in King's Landing. Black garnet mined from the Dothraki Sea is the main centerpiece, and Rubies from our land in Westeros are embedded in the solid gold band," you paused a moment, steeling yourself for the consequences of your past actions as you angled the ring in the yellow light. "And here, a personalized message for His Grace."

As Aegon studied his nameday gift, you bowed your head, retreating a few paces. You saw his pupils dilate as he read it, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

'For my sweet boy, Aegon.'

He left you to stand in uncomfortable silence, beginning to gnaw on your lower lip once more as he slipped the gift onto his left pinky, admiring it in the glow of the candles. Aegon met your gaze when finished, filling the gap you made with his tall but stocky body. You could smell the sticky scent of Arbor Red wafting off him, his lips stained.

Fear coursed within you at that moment, the memory of how he forced himself upon you the night prior flashing through your mind's eye, but you steeled yourself. Clenching your soft jaw and digging your nails into your palm until you were sure they broke the calloused flesh.

Aegon opened his arms, signaling he wanted to embrace in thanks for your present. You hesitated but leaned forward as you saw the hundreds of eyes watching you. He squeezed you harshly, nearly suffocating you as he brought his mouth to your ear, inhaling your candied scent before he whispered.

"You are too good to me, little one. I know you are frightened by what happened last night, but there is no need to be. Any uncertainties you have, your sweet boy will help you."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, your knees nearly buckling as he pulled away and kissed both cheeks. You stood there for a beat too long, your head reeling at losing his warmth and the haunting things he promised. You swiftly curtsied again as you saw him plop down into his seat, a smirk on his rosy lips, and returned to your own.

You stayed there as the rest of the Lords and Ladies gave their gifts to Aegon, staring down at the food scraps on your plate, your appetite never returning, not even for dessert. When the sounds of stomping boots vibrated the stone floor, you still refused to look up, lost inside a blank yet cluttered mind.

You should be relieved that Aegon was not upset with you for abandoning him and that your plan could continue. You should be smiling, knowing that everything was falling into place, but you weren't. You were terrified. Terrified of what you had gotten yourself into. This was the only way to assure Aegon never ascended the throne, but the cost was almost too much to bear.

Your family.

Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jace, Luke, Joffrey, and even little Aegon and Viserys. You had to think of them. This was for them. Everything you did was for them. Selling yourself to Aegon and giving in to his depraved desires would save them all from a fate that could break the Targaryen dynasty forever. A small price to pay for the sake of those you loved, you told yourself.

"Cousin?" A soft angelic voice startled you from your stupor. "Would you care for a dance?" Helaena asked, her palm facing upwards as you stared at the serval vein-like wrinkles expanding across it.

You gave her a polite smile, though it did not reach your eyes, nodding as you wiped your hands on the green cloth napkin on your lap. Keep your mind off the impending future for a moment.

"It has been quite some years since I last shared a dance with you Princess," you said as her delicate fist wrapped around yours. "I am much more skilled at the art now."

Helaena giggled, leading you out to the ocean of people. "I seem to recall us never needing any guidance on it before. 'Tis more fun to sway to your own beat." Her grin reached her ears, crinkling the creamy skin around her eyes as she spun you in a dizzying circle.

Neither of you paid attention to the other's rehearsed moves, creating your own as you jumped, clapped, and spun. It felt like you were both girls again, laughing as she linked her slender arm with yours, skipping back and forth, your skirts in your free limb. The momentum of your movements continued as you grabbed her hands, lifting one arm to twirl her underneath you, her golden hair tickling your chin.

Helaena was always a beacon of light in the darkness, the embodiment of the lantern the Crone used to guide those in her wisdom. Her laugh was like the first breath of spring after a seemingly never-ending winter, her voice as gentle as the early morning rain in summer. She was all heart and kindness and too good for this world, too gracious to deserve the hand she dealt with.

Helaena loved her family and was one of the few who treated your brothers with the same politeness as if they were anyone else. She had a deep bond with her brother Aemond, a bond that only blood could give. The type you could only dream of with yours. And despite the man she was forced to marry, she still loved Aegon. Not the way a wife would love a husband, but the love of siblings who were forced into something they had no choice in, pushed into the confines of duty.

You felt guilt for what you did with Aegon, the disrespect and shame you would bring upon her if anyone found out. You knew she would not feel scorn the way a partner would, though that did little to ease your conscience. While it was a relief not to hurt Helaena like that, she would still have that same sense of betrayal she did when Aegon went out to the Silk Streets.

You resolved your thoughts. Helaena would have to understand why you did what you did unless she desired to see the casualties of war.

Pushing those feelings down, you brought another smile to your lips, your cousin placing her hands on your waist and spinning you until your steps faltered, nearly tripping over your skirts. Helaena steadied you, closing the space as she grabbed your biceps with a guffaw. She moved a strand of hair that had fallen over your shoulder in your promenade, smoothing it down your head as she rested her palm against the base of your neck. You watched her with a curious but joyful expression as her other hand moved to grip the side of your face.

To anyone observing from the outside, it appeared as if she was about to kiss you, but if they saw the look within her amethyst eyes, glazed over, looking at you. No. Looking through you, they would see she was not in the moment.

"Hand turns loom; spools of green, spools of black; dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread," she whispered against your face, your noses nearly touching. You grasped Helaena's wrists, trying to pull her away as her touch became painful. "Beneath the boards, rats bite; their teeth burn, a sacrifice of her blood, peace reborn."

Her words covered you in a blanket of dread, cold and unwelcoming, as her nails dug into your skin. A whimper escaped your throat, wriggling uncomfortably at the sting and confusion.

The guests around you continued dancing, unaware of the agony piercing into your flesh, Helaena repeating her words with urgency.

"A sacrifice of her blood, peace reborn. A sacrifice of her blood, a sacrifice of her blood, her blood, her blood, her blood."

"Sister," a baritone voice cut through the air. Helaena suddenly released you with trembling fists, stumbling backward into her brother, clad in black leather.

"Aemond," she gasped, grabbing him by his forearms. "A sacrifice of her blood," she heatedly whispered as you placed a comforting palm on her shoulder.

You glanced at Aemond worriedly, but his eyes were trained on his younger sibling.

"Sister," Aemond repeated, this time softer. "Mother requests your presence at the table."

Helaena nodded absentmindedly, ridding her mind of her trance as her brother's one-piercing eye trailed after her retreating form. You continued to stare at Aemond, your mouth opening to speak before he interrupted.

"Pay no mind to Helaena; she sees and understands things in ways we could never comprehend."

You wished to ask for more but knew you would only receive what Aemond allowed. He was so protective over his sister, and you understood why. In spite of having a fearsome dragon of her own and having done the difficult task of birth while still a child, she was not hardened, nor did she need to be. She was just Helaena, meant to be guarded and cared for, and that was enough.

You started into a curtsy to bid Aemond farewell, assuming he had only come to rescue his sister, but instead stopped you with the wave of his hand and outstretched it, an invitation to dance. Raising a quizzical brow, you stared, eyes flickering from his chiseled face to wrinkled palm. Perhaps he felt obligated to offer it after Helaena had frightened you, but you still hesitated as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"My Prince, I know you have never cared for me or my brothers, so do not insult me with this farce of chivalry," you said unabashedly, crossing your arms.

You expected Aemond to give you a sneer, storming away and back to the high table with the rest of his family, but he did neither. On the contrary, he laughed wickedly and unwrapped your arms as the music changed to a darker ballad, the minor chords sending tremors up your spine.

As the One-Eyed Prince led you into song, you focused anywhere but on him, your lips pursed and your body stiff, attempting to put as much space between your linked elbows.

You continued your silent dance, refusing to be the proper lady your Septa taught you to be as Aemond lifted you into the air by your hips at the swell of the tune, forcing you to seek purchase on his slender shoulders. An arrogant smirk laced his lips as he brought you to the ground, your digits burying into his leather tunic for balance. He didn't give a moment to recover as he took your hands in his, pulling you close to his chest before unwinding you into a subtle push movement as you struggled to become centered.

Before you could think to protest his nauseated action, he brought you back in, twirling your arms so your back was pressed against his front, a position that was hardly proper for the duty-bound Prince.

"Have you found yourself well to be back in King's Landing?" Aemond purred darkly into your ear. You swallowed a lump that had formed in your throat, trying to turn your head to face him.

"It has been a rather eventful occasion, though it hardly looks of the Red Keep I know. If I were not any brighter, I would think this is the seat of House Hightower, not Targaryen," you replied coolly, voice neutral to not expel your beliefs.

He hummed in response, releasing you from his harsh embrace as you proceeded to the next step in the choreography. "It gladens me to hear you are in good spirits. I could not say the same if I wore your shoes."

You snuffed the instinct to sneer at the arrogant man. Tilting your head, you peered at him from your lower height as you began to circle one another, like a fox to a rabbit. Which one you were you did not know.

"Oh? And why would that be, your Grace?" you asked with feigned interest.

"If I were summoned to a place which held such harrowing memories, I would be aching to return home, not taking a permanent position on the Small Council," Aemond answered in a grandiloquent tone.

You had to resist the urge to bite at his jabs, nearly snarling your teeth before you took a calming breath, plastering your political costume that was a smile. You were keen to the art of backhanded courtly discussion and realized the second son was trying to get a rise out of you, tormenting the bastard princess when he could not do the princes.

"Time heals all wounds," you quipped shortly. "I've made peace with what happened to my family. They broke the law, and our honorable Lord Hand served justice." The Prince replied with a grunt to your lies, following with the other nobles in dance as they jumped and clapped on the beat. "Tell me, Prince Aemond, have you returned to Driftmark since that fateful night?"

You saw him stiffen as you repeated the movement from before on his other side, only to be stopped by an iron grip. "Do not presume to speak freely before me. I am a true-born prince of the realm, not a bastard to the Lord of Flea Bottom."

That had you smiling genuinely, rising to the tops of your feet as you met his one piercing eye with your two, brimming with barely controlled ire.

"A true-born second son, but not good enough to be the spare. A crippled boy whose eye was taken out by a child half his junior." Your words poured out like the molten steel of a sword, searing into Aemond's essence as the ballad ended.

Yanking your arm out of the Prince's grasp, you backed away; chin held high in triumph. He took significant bounding strides in your direction in response as you prepared to defend yourself just as Lucerys had. Perhaps you could carve out his working eye and offer it to the younger boy? He had told you of his fear regarding Aemond, the hatred he held in his heart for the loss of sight.

By the grace of the Seven, a loud shriek was heard from the head of the Great Hall, momentarily distracting Aemond as you scampered into the crowd of people, making your way to your seat. Luckily there was no danger to be found at the royal table, only Prince Aegon diving under the skirts of one of his desert flowers as men cheered and women turned away in shame. You ignored the disgust that came as you saw him lift her on his shoulders, his head hidden underneath the sheer layers of her dress.

***

The hour of ghosts was upon you, but the feast still raged, no signs of anyone retiring soon. The wine and mead had settled in everyone's stomachs, making for an ear-deafening obnoxious roar of laughter and cheers.

You, too, had begun to feel the effects of alcohol but had not ventured out to the dance floor since the interaction with Aemond. You were right to be cautious when he offered you his hand. It was only a ploy for him to gain superiority over someone he deemed less than him, but ultimately it failed, turning it around for him to become the victim of his own game. Life was cruel, but it was good not to be on the receiving end of it for once.

You rested your chin on your knuckles as you watched the twirling fools before you, yawning. You realized it was time to retire as you felt your fist slip out from under you, nearly slamming your face on the now-empty wooden table. Releasing a heavy sigh, you stretched your upper body, quietly groaning as you downed the last few drops of your drink.

"Surely, my Lady Targaryen, you are not retiring so soon," a familiar gravelly voice asked.

"I am, Ser Greyjoy. The hour grows late, and there is much to tend to on the morrow," you answered unhurriedly.

"I had hoped to steal you for a dance or two, but much of tonight, you were already preoccupied."

You scoffed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "Not by choice, I am afraid. I would not have denied you had you asked," you replied truthfully, standing from your seat with another stretch.

"Well, if you'd allow me to escort you to your rooms, I'm sure we could make for lost time," he offered with the bend of his elbow.

You were exhausted from the facade required to put on for appearances and slouched as you took his offer without resistance.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of violet eyes had followed the whole night, observing his little dragon but never moving to mount. He hadn't felt the need to until the squid boy hooked himself on you, a problem Aegon knew he would have to remedy but was unsure of how as he fidgeted with the new ring on his finger.

Aegon watched you exit the Great Hall with Ser Dalton, a frown tugging on his crimson-stained lips as he took another swig of his Arbor Red. The girls beside him noticed his sudden change in mood, one tracing an extended slim index along his jawline to capture his attention, the other whispering something he did not care to hear. He saw the squid lord link arms out of the corner of his eye before one of the women brought a full cup to his mouth, your glimmering golden dress a distant memory in his drunken mind.

"I must say, my Lady Targaryen, you looked ravishing tonight. The whole court could not take their eyes off you. I was afraid I might have to defend your honor," Ser Dalton chortled, following your lead down one of the many corridors that led to the guest wing.

"That must have been why I felt like I was being stalked like a doe in the woods," you snipped with your nose in the air.

Dalton turned, his lengthy Dragonglass colored hair falling over his slim shoulders as he laughed, his canines glistening in the yellow torchlight. His teeth were so white, so sharp. It looked as if they could pierce flesh with a single bite.

The exhaustion, combined with the half a dozen glasses of wine you had drunk, lowered your inhibitions and made your lips loose. "I had half a mind to gouge out your eyes and feed them to my dragon," you joked.

Dalton stopped his long strides at this, causing you to jerk and do the same, stumbling around to face him. Suddenly, your world was a blur of colors, your head struggling to keep up with the fast movements of the Red Kraken as he led you to an untraveled hallway.

"Lord Greyjoy!" you shouted in protest, groaning as the abruptness made you sick.

"You speak lots of threats for a lady of your stature," he taunted, his toned arms caging you in.

It took you a moment longer than expected to process what was happening, but you were in no state of alarm despite the nonconsensual circumstances. You didn't feel the same rush of fear you had with Aegon, only raising one unamused brow as you gave Ser Dalton a lofty stare, almost daring him to try something as you released a huff.

"And what, prey tell, are you implying, Lord Reaper?" you questioned with a lazy tilt of your head.

Dalton laughed lightly, raising his arm to toy with a strand of your hair as he leaned closer. "Only, my Bastard Princess, that you have the fire of a true dragon born of pure Valryian blood, not something muddled with common folk."

"You think our people are beneath us?" you asked pointedly, arching your back to reach his slumped form. "What would happen if your armies raised their swords against you, hmm? Our people let us rule."

Lord Dalton dropped the hair he was toying with, running his digits through the rest until he reached your waist, pulling you flush with his. Your eyes widened in surprise as you felt his manhood press against your stomach, freezing for a moment as your mind went blank.

"With a dragon, no one could stand in my way. We could burn all who dare test the power of House Greyjoy and Targaryen. We do not sow. We will reap through fire and blood." Dalton leaned closer to you, his spine hunched like a startled cat from the height difference. "There was no mistake in my intention yesterday. You will become my wife."

Your head finally started working again; instincts pounded in from years of training controlling your movements. Wrapping your leg around Dalton's hips, you brought him closer, angling your body so that your skirt rose above your ankle. You snaked your fingers down his back, nails scraping his maroon woolen tunic, unsheathing the hidden dagger your father gifted and pointing at his chest.

The Lord Reaper of Pyke's brown eyes briefly flashed with terror but swiftly smoothed into their dark expression, a taunting grin on his lips.

"Ser Dalton of House Greyjoy," you chortled. "I have heard many rumors about you." You pushed the blade tip further into his chest, where his heart would be. "Of you emerging from battle, drenched in blood from a thousands cuts on your body. Claiming a Valyrian Steel sword in victory. Of your countless salt wives who would rather throw themselves into the sea than bed you?" Dalton's pupils dilated as he watched your mouth move, nails digging into the plush skin of your waist. "You get bored of women too easily, and I do not intend to move from one forgotten position to another."

You clenched your leg, cinching him to you in a vice-like grip.

"Tell me, Red Kraken, will you bleed the same as I when you tear my maidenhead?" You slid the dagger tip dangerously up his chest, resting just below the notch in his throat and causing it to bob uncomfortably.

You observed Dalton licking his lips, hands sliding to the plump flesh of your arse as he ground his manhood into your heat. Both stared, willing the other to break it and lose the unspoken challenge. The many ways you could quickly kill him popped into your head with a sly smile, continuing to size him up as you saw the faint trickle of blood down his neck.

A chorus of giggles caused you both to default, the contest ending in a draw as you saw the two desert flowers from earlier walk in your direction. They draped over Aegon's sides; all smiles as he led them to what you could only assume were his bed chambers. You felt sick at the sight, unraveling your limbs from Lord Greyjoy and placing your dagger back in its holder. His hands moved to a more appropriate place on your body as you both turned to acknowledge the Prince's presence.

The searing emotion of betrayal coursed through your veins as bile burned your throat. How could Aegon whisper such intoxicating and mind-numbing things about your time together but, in a fell swoop, go whoring with two women he did not know? Anger tugged on your heart, inhaling a raging breath as you both bowed to the eldest Prince, his purple eyes bypassing you and Dalton.

A part of you wished for him to notice the Lord's improper hold on you, for Aegon to become filled with the same scornful rage he created within you, but you swallowed the thought down, turning to your escort to continue the journey to your rooms.

It was silent from then on, your wrath simmering just below the edge. You were certain Ser Dalton could sense it.

Once you arrived at the Guest Wing, you turned to him, swiftly ordering the guard at the door to walk to the other end of the hall so he could not overhear your words.

"If you wish so ardently to marry, Lord Dalton, I suggest you do it correctly," you commanded sternly. "You will court me properly as any other man would, then when the time is right, you will contact my father, informing him of your intentions. Just because I was born of sin and impropriety does not mean I want to live it myself." You raised your black eyebrows at him, waiting for a response.

"I understand, my Lady," he confirmed solemnly. "You will be given the respect you deserve and I hope you can accept my sincerest regrets for my actions prior."

You rolled your eyes, slightly probing your hip out as you stared at him, unbelieving. "Do not apologize," you said bluntly, "I know you do not regret it. Had you did then, that would have never happened."

You saw a slight smile grow on his thin pink lips.

"I expect a letter from you upon your return to Castle Pyke. We will converse and learn about one another until the time is right." You moved away from him, pulling the handle to your chamber door, and bid him goodnight. "Sleep well, Ser Dalton. I await your letter should you decide to write me."

As you enter your chambers, you couldn't deny your hope that you were just another one of his female conquest he would tire of, calling for your maids with a bell. You wanted to stick to your plan, and Dalton would be another obstacle in securing Rhaenyra's throne.

The same exhaustion from before crept through your bones as you slumped over your vanity, your servants arriving a few moments later to undress you.

Today had been fruitful, and you prayed to the Seven that everything would fall into place as time passed. You knew this would be difficult and had prepared yourself accordingly, though you sensed that something would happen to topple that self-perseverance as things tended to do, but shoved it away with the rest of your many doubts and worries.

As you drifted into a peaceful slumber, you dreamed of a time filled with less duty and more freedom, a distant memory of long ago filled with laughs and love that had now been forgotten.

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I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Aegon really needs to work on his drinking habits because he literally walked right past his girl with another man! He becomes a different person when he's under the influence of alcohol. If Aegon was only a bit tipsy, you know that man would've beat the fuck out of Dalton even though he is severely outmatched. I also want to mention that I purposefully don't have Aegon speak in High Valyrian when calling the reader "little dragon" because I remember Tom Glenn Carney saying something along the lines of Aegon hating the traditionalism of the Targaryen and being that rebel child, but at the same time he uses that God complex whenever he sees it as an advantage. Idk. Just a little peek behind the curtain of my writing lol. Thank you for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn , @malfoytargaryen , @targaryencore , @justasmallbean , @alexandra-001 , @omgsuperstarg , @sommornyte , @silverslive , @unclecrunkle , @prettykinkysoul , @duesobabe , @djlexi , @ynbutbetter , @honestlykat , @graykageyama , @legolas017 , @iiamthehybrid , @brezzybfan , @dd122004dd , @ladybug0095 , @millies0bsimp , @kalfild , @sheislonelyalways , @tempt-ress , @bellameshipper , @minttea07 , @trikigirl271 , @esposadomd , @buckylahey , @justarandomflowerchildofthenight , @partypoison00 , @please-buckme , @pastelorangeskies , @joliettes , @existential-echo , @priyajoyy , @valaenatargaryensdragon , @merovingianprincess , @rachelnicolee , @candy12110 , @w3ird11 , @ruhjkie , @somemydayy , @ariana-dumbledore8 , @marikkjj , @zillahvathek , @sunfyresrider , @sunny-boy-06 , @heavenly1927 , @prettylittlelady

[asexualbookbird]

Top 5 craft projects you made?

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER!

We have Beeby, the Minecraft Bee! It was announced and I KNEW I had to make one haha I made each minecraft pixel one centimeter I think? And used that as a guide. There's a felted heart inside too :)

THE MOMOFUKU MILK BAR BIRTHDAY CAKE, for my sisters birthday in 2020. So no I didn't even get to taste it. It took me like three days. It was fun and very impressive and it looks VERY COOL!

HOT OFF THE PRESSES WE HAVE TINY BOUND BOOK EARRINGS (LOCKED TOMB STYLE) This was a gift and the reason this ask has been sitting in my inbox. The recipient has opened them , gift has been GIVEN! lots of fun! I couldn't find hi res images of the entire cover spread so I scanned them myself! Got my math wrong and had to trim the book parts after they were bound! Used silver plated earring because nickel allergies are no joke. Would do again!

Someone on instagram is making these giant piped flower pieces and it looked so fun I tried it myself. This was my first (and so far only lol) attempt and I think it came out cool! It was a lot of fun and I DO want to do it again, but I've never so much as piped a flower in frosting so it's a new skill I have to learn. I'm still looking for one of those. Stick things. That cake artists use to make frosting flowers. The only place I've found one is Hobby Lobby and well :/ I'd really like to make a larger piece of lilies for my mom!

AND FINALLY! MY FIRST BIG CROCHET PROJECT! THE RADIANCE BLANKET! This was in a mart maxim magazine that was sent to our house and I said WOW I WANNA DO THAT so my mom bought me the pattern and about ten rows in I was struggling and noticed. Oh. This is an Intermediate pattern. I'd only ever made amigurumi at the time, so all I knew was single crochet and slip stitches LOL it was an ambitious first project but I learned a lot! This is on my moms large queen sized bed so its BIG! Took me about a year to finish, with a long break over the summer because it was too hot to work on it.

THANKS FOR ASKING SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY!

[zepskies]

Hey Zep! So I was working on a little something today doing some brainstorming and got thinking, for your stories, where do you draw inspiration from that's not music or directly from the "show" you're working with since those are big ones I think a lot of us writers use? Books? Movies? Other shows? Real life? Something completely random? Happy Friday night!

@luci-in-trenchcoats Hey Michelle! 💕 Lovely Friday night/Sat. wee morning we're having lol.

Oooh happy brainstorming! I hope it was a good sesh. But thank you for this question!! It's a really good one, and it took me some time to contemplate...

In general, I would say all of the above! The music actually comes after for me. I typically find the music/vibe when I'm outlining.

So when it comes to ideas that spark my imagination, I'm a big advocate of:

"Write what you know."

"Write what you can research."

"Write what you're interested in."

If it falls within these 3 categories for me, that's what I'll write about. But sometimes, my ideas come from want I would want to read myself.

For Break Me Down, for example, I developed that series from the initial idea that I wanted to see a plausible, romantic redemptive story for Soldier Boy. (I love redemptive storytelling, and Soldier Boy was a unique challenge. 😅) The rest spun out from the loose concept I had in Checkerboard.

For the Midnight Espresso series, the initial concept stemmed from a thought I had of: What if Dean had a Latina girlfriend?

She would shower that man with so much doting affection, he wouldn't know what to do with it, or himself. But she'd also keep him on his toes lol.

That concept turned into, well, what if I explored my heritage and ethnicity, and combine it with my personal experience of being plus-sized?

Maybe my fellow plus-sized queens would like to read about that, while my Latina lovelies would get to see themselves represented in some way. Not all Hispanic/Latin cultures are alike. In fact, they're often very proud to be different lol. But the truth is, we all have some similarities.

But still, I tried to make it so everyone would find something to enjoy throughout that series, not just Latinas or plus-sized lovelies.

Using one more example, for Smoke Eater, I drew inspiration from a lot of places. The initial idea came from just reading an awesome firefighter!Dean AU called Hold On I’m Coming by @ravengirl94. It made me want to write my own!

I had never written a full AU before, but I drew from my deep and abiding love of Chicago Fire, Law & Order, Chicago Med, and other procedurals. It turned into this overarching murder mystery that tied in all the characters.

But there was also a plotline with the reader's grandfather that was very personal to me. I didn't realize it when I was writing it, but it actually helped me work through some of my own personal grief there. (Those who've read it know what I'm talking about, as I included it in the AN on certain chapters.)

There was also another plotline in SE that helped me craft Nick, one of the main antagonists (dealing with sexual harassment). And that came about from stories my close friends had told me, and I was so deeply affected by them that I felt I had to write about it.

I'm sorry that was such a long-winded answer (as usual with me lol), but those 3 points are where the essence of my ideas usually come from. And that 3rd one also includes, "things I've never tried to write before but secretly want to." 🤣

[throneofsapphics]

Ho ho ho,

Step aside spooky season, it’s Santa’s time to shine now! ✨

I hope you had a wonderful Halloween, and are looking forward to the week ahead.

In answer to your question for me about my favourite books - Santa is a sucker for anything romantic but especially romantasy (hence the ACOTAR) obsession. I recently read and loved Quicksilver by Callie Hart and I’ve just started Powerless by Lauren Roberts which I’m enjoy so far.

An update for your gift - Chapter one is well under way and I am having such a fun time crafting some Morlain goodness for you! I honestly can’t wait to share this fic 💕

A few questions for today:

❣️Aside from Mor and Elain who are some of your favourite characters in ACOTAR?

❣️Do you have any morlain headcanons?

❣️Are there any songs that remind you of Morlain?

Oh and one more thing… myself and Rudolph put together a little mood board for the fic and its general vibes below:

https://www.instagram.com/p/DB56wtTIDOx/?igsh=MTcwMTFlbXZ2aHUzdA==

I hope that you like it and that you have a wonderful week!

Santa x

Hi Santa!!

Thank you so much, sorry this took so long, I'm just getting back on Tumblr now! I thought powerless was fun and I hope you're enjoying it! I still need to read the sequels to it. I'm checking my library for Quicksilver immediately!

Aside from Mor and Elain, some of my favorite ACOTAR characters are Nesta and Rhys.

I hope this counts as a head canon, but I picture Mor and Elain as fixer-uppers/ home renovations queens, I think they'd have a blast re-doing their future home, and want to do it by themselves.

As for songs for Morlain, if we're going an angsty route I could see them as DYWTYLM by Sleep Token or Casual by Chappell Roan or Blood Sport by Sleep Token (I'm sorry all my music is angsty or metal)

THAT MOODBOARD IS BEAUTIFUL!!! OH MY GOD I'M SO (EXPLETIVE) EXCITED FOR THIS STORY AND YOUR MAGIC! I may have stared at that for several minutes.

Hope you're having an amazing week!

[sonorousabyss]

Sup! I was wondering if I could request a Star Wars matchup :]

Alrighty so, I’m a 5’5 Biromantic (masc leaning) asexual guy. I have medium long black and purple hair with raccoon tails. I’m really into punk and metal culture, and I love picking up scrap and making it into clothes and accessories. I’m also autistic and I have adhd, so I differ a lot between how social and talkative I am. I play guitar, play board games, sew and draw in my spare time

Have a good day 🫶

A/N: Sorry this took so long Anon, I just couldn't decide how I wanted to do the banner for this one! I hope that this is to your tastes!

I am thoroughly convinced that you both would get along disturbingly well.

Your style and your unique hobbies are certainly what drew him to you. It isn't often that you encounter someone with long black and purple hair- let alone with that and raccoon tails. And turning scrap into accessories? Well, that was just icing on the cake.

Don't get me wrong- Anakin has been around the likes of Padme during her queen and senator days, so he's no stranger to unique and unorthodox hairdos, but the color and length certainly intrigued him, forgoing the style.

Given how frequently he's out in the field? Unless you went out on missions with him regularly, your initial interactions with him would have been once every blue moon or so. Of course, this meant that there were some occasions where he attempted to hang with you on your less social days- something I don't imagine going too well.

The differences in how social you were may have bewildered him at first, but it's more than likely if you didn't tell him about your social battery? Kenobi, Ahsoka, or Rex would have caught on to some degree and let him know that it probably wasn't because he'd done something wrong.

Even though it's known to be against regulations to nab keepsakes from the battlefield (or at the very least it is for clones), I get the feeling he's made a habit of grabbing you scrap metal from the battlefield on missions where he's had time.

More often than not this metal consists of severed droid parts that almost certainly have lightsaber cuts and blaster residue all over them, but hey- it's the thought that counts right?

He'd keep his eye out the following days, weeks, etc. after giving you one of his unique "gifts" to see if he could spot something you may have crafted it into.

He and the 501st make a game of guessing what you might turn his scrap into, and they absolutely keep score of who's gotten it right the most times.

As you got closer and your relationship developed further he 100% would step up his game in the scrap department. And by that I mean he somehow finds stranger and stranger shit to bring back for you.

A motivator, the head of a B1, droid fingers, paneling from destroyed droid carriers- hell, even random pieces of downed starships. His goal is to make sure you never know what he's gonna bring back next, if only so he can see the delighted (or perplexed) look you'll end up giving him as a result.

Of course, if you needed something specific and let him know about it, he'd see to it that he gets it if possible.

It's also a game between his padawan, himself, and the clones to see who can get the desired part first. Because what's a good battle without some friendly competition amirite?

On quiet days while you don't feel like talking so much, he'll hang out with you and listen to your favorite music with you. Furthermore, if you want to show him any drawings or clothes you've made, or even play him a song on your guitar he's absolutely game. Most of the time neither of you will even have to talk, just bask in each other's presence.

On days where you feel more like listening than talking, he'll tell elaborate tales of his self-proclaimed "best moments" on the battlefield and catch you up on what he's been doing while you've been separated. He's also got a stash of amusing tales at Obi-wan, Ahsoka, and the 501st's expense to cheer you up whenever you're feeling down.

Somehow he always finds a way to boost his own ego in the process, but something tells me that you're more than enough to keep Anakin balanced in that regard.

If you make him something you bet he's bragging to his padawan and his men that his significant other made a gift specifically for him and no one else.

Anakin is 100% guilty of messing up your hair or lifting things just out of reach to tease you as you are shorter than him, but he's made up for it in some regards by fetching things for you as well. Namely stuff way too high for you to get without putting yourself in a precarious position.

Talk to him about anything you're interested in and he's over the moon- even if he doesn't quite understand it. You trust him enough to share it with him and that makes it all the more precious.

Anything too out of pocket and you might catch him and Kenobi having a hushed conversation just out of earshot where he's checking with his master to see if he at least knows what you're talking about.

If you call him out on this he'll deny it, and if you catch him in the act he'll try to play it off... and fail spectacularly. Meanwhile, Obi-wan is watching him trip over himself in amusement as he tries to find a half-truth you'll buy to spare him the embarrassment.

He sticks to holovids after that. Can't trust his jedi master as far as he can throw him, apparently.

Ahsoka teases him relentlessly over this.

Anakin doesn't really seem the type to get bent out of shape over anyone being asexual, adhd, or autistic. He's a really chill guy, and to be honest he just takes it all in stride and embraces it as much as physically possible. You're his boyfriend after all, why wouldn't he?

Learns about any and/or all of the above to figure out how to better support you and makes sure your boundaries are laid out and respected.

If you want a funny sight to commit to memory? Have him help you with your hair maintenance. He'd somehow find a way to make dying, bleaching, trimming it, etc. absolutely hilarious. Just him in the bathroom with you on a chair in front of a mirror, desperately trying to figure out what toner is, why certain hair products can and cannot be used shortly after dying, etc. It's fucking brilliant.

He's absolutely tried to con you into dying at least a strand of your hair blue to match him and his squad at least once.

....Okay. More than once. But can you blame him? That'd be bloody adorable.

Just don't dye it orange in response to mess with him, he might cry.

AN: Ah yes, the image of Anakin fumbling with hair dye will forever be ingrained in my brain. For those who got this far, I hope you enjoyed! May the force be with you, and may your day be as pleasant as the ocean's abyss is deep! For those who are new here, I take requests. You can find my rules here.

[an-abyss-of-stars]

He saw her at daybreak - Part 6

Summary: Rhaena is now five if not six moons along with her pregnancy and she's beginning to feel the weight of it all. She's hungry all of the time, she's craving odd things, she's irritable and easily upset, incredibly horny and Aemond has begun to become a touch too overprotective…

Warnings: SMUTTTT SMUTTY SMUT! This series is explicit fr tho.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3.1 | Part 3.2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Ao3

Tag list: @minim236 , @bohemian-nights , @neocil , @nettysnest , @avidreader73 , @jordanjanellejoyy , @azaleapotterblack , @yourlittlehoe , @partypoison00 , (feel free to tell me if you want to be on the taglist or not)

P.S. I have returned!!! (Yet again!! I'm so sorry!!)

This is the "world-building" chapter, and I want to say that's why this took so long for me to finish/post it. But I'm also going to blame the next upcoming chapter for that! LMAO look out everyone, I've finished writing ch.7 and it's literally 30k in length, fucking hell.

But for now, enjoy this cute little "day in the life of preggo Rhaena" chapter!!

-

☾

THREE MOONS LATER 

It was a grey rainy morning, but it was there that Rhaena found herself tucked safely in Aemond's tight heated embrace. With her back pressed against his warm solid chest, his firm strong arms wrapped around her with his large hands splayed across her now rounded belly. How he managed to keep such a protective hold over her even while he was soundly asleep would never cease to amaze her. 

It was in this protective hold, where she felt the most at home. Always relishing in his closeness, the strong security he always provided for her. Especially now that Rhaena was five…if not six moons along, her belly had grown immensely in that time and several other things had changed as well. 

Three moons ago, Rhaena and her husband were officially crowned the Princess and Prince of Dragonstone . 

They were given a true ceremony, where the whole of their family was present, as well as an audience of all the noble Lords and Ladies of the realm. With Rhaena's mother, Rhaenyra, sitting upon the Iron Throne. Rhaena's father, Daemon had stood steadfast by her side as he always did. Both Rhaena and Aemond had knelt before them, before the Queen of the seven kingdoms. And Rhaena was happy to do so of course, but she'd known then that it still must've been an odd position for Aemond to willingly submit himself to. 

Though he'd made his choice long ago, the night he chose Rhaena to be his bride…was the night he solidified the side he wished to be on. And so on that day, he knelt before his eldest sister, his Queen, right alongside Rhaena, his wife. 

There Queen Rhaenyra spoke grandly, letting the spoken vow be known to all, before Aemond repeated the words as did Rhaena herself after him. 

Once they had, Aemond had been presented with the legendary Blood Moon , the Valyrian steel sword that once belonged to Daenys the Dreamer . It was an impressive long sword, the black blade held a dark reddish glint seen only in the moonlight or sunlight, it had razored ridges all along the sides down to the tip. While down the center of the blade lay shimmering engraved Valryian runes that read: Valyria may burn, yet, the blood of the Dragon shall walk through the flames . The hilt was curved and crafted like the wing of a dragon, gold and steel, the handle was black leather bound. And finally, there was one rounded ruby embedded dead center on the hilt, surrounded by a row of obsidian gems. 

Truly a blade made for her beloved dragon. 

It was just as dark and gleaming as he was, if not a tad overly jewelled for his liking, but either or, Rhaena knew Aemond would come to love the blade no matter what. She couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips then, the look on Aemond's face had been priceless. The pure awe that shone in his eye and on his face entirely, she knew it meant the world to him to finally be in possession of such a blessed and historical Targaryen artifact. Much more than that, he finally had a true Targaryen sword , a real Valyrian steel blade that had been passed down from ancestor to ancestor. 

That day had meant so much to him. 

Just as well, it made her heart soar to witness it with him. 

After he was handed his sword, Rhaenyra had slowly placed a crown upon Rhaena's head. Rhaena had recognized it immediately, from the deep dark pure red rubies which encrusted the golden crown along its spiked edges to the dotting shards of the purest obsidian which graced the peaks of the crown. It was archaic and ruthless in its beauty, sharpened like the fangs of a dragon, but graceful in its sway as it was made for a Queen . This was the crown of the great Conquering Queen Rhaenys . 

Yet another incredibly prized symbol of the House of the Dragon.   

With the fondest look on Rhaenyra's face, Rhaena had felt her mother's warm pride wash over her. And with a glance to her father, she could see a very similar look on his face as well. 

In part, she liked to believe her birth mother, her true muña , Lady Laena, was looking down on her with pride as well. For while she knew her mother spent the rest of her eternity flying amongst the ancestors in Balerion’s beautiful fated realm…it still only felt right to imagine that she was allowed to bear witness to the important things in her life. Such as her Valyrian wedding and now this ceremony…and soon enough, Rhaena hoped her muña would bear witness to the birth of her first child.

In the end, once the vows and blessings were bestowed, both Rhaena and Aemond were told to rise, proclaiming to the audience of nobles and family alike, that Prince Aemond Targaryen had now become the Prince Of Dragonstone and that Princess Rhaena Targaryen had now become the Princess Of Dragonstone . Sworn to the crown, sworn to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and King Daemon Targaryen, rulers and protectors of the Seven Kingdoms and the realm.

They now guarded and Lorded over the ancestral home of House Targaryen. They held authority over the keeping of the legendary Valyrian military post known as Hell's Edge , home to specially trained warriors subservient to the crown known as the Hell's Legion . 

They would also rule over the two ancient towns that rested on the island's lower region. The bustling port town, Dracaena and the quiet farming village, Tegun Skrykos.

They'd be the main ruling authority over hearings and petitions made by the towns’ common folk, small isle folk and the complaints of minor Lords of lesser importance, even major Lords with complaints that could be handled without meeting with the Queen herself. Depending on the severity of criminal cases, and attacks on the crown, they'd also have the authority to commit executions and or pardons. 

A part of the job Rhaena knew her husband would relish for certain…the execution part of things at least. 

And now that they were three moons into their position, Rhaena could say with certainty, Aemond most certainly loved a good execution. 

Any execution really, but that was besides the point. 

Dragonstone was a functioning castle and court once again. And while Aemond might bask in his new found authority here, Rhaena basked in ruling over the court here. 

But in the mornings, she mainly let herself melt into the warmth her husband provided for her. Still tangled up together in one another's arms and overall coziness, the previous night had been an eventful one. If Rhaena ever doubted that her husband would find her just as appealing as he had previously…compared to now, as she grew rounder with his child…well all such doubts evaporated day by day. 

If anything, Rhaena dared to think his arousal for her had only increased ever since her belly had begun to grow larger. 

She knew for certain that her own needs had increased tenfold. If she felt ravenous for him before, she found herself even more starved for him. Just yesterday alone she'd pulled Aemond into several partially secluded alcoves, obscure archways in the depths of the gardens, Gods she'd even managed to pounce on him in-between scheduled hearings. All solely to satisfy her ever growing needs, her body ached for satisfaction during the days, and she knew her dragon was the only one who could deliver such pleasure to her.

And he did, happily so. 

It never took anything more than a look, a curve of her lips, something in her eyes must've told him what she needed. And he was always ready to oblige her. 

This morning had been no different. 

It was pouring outside, harsh and windy, the droplets battering against the windows of their chambers. The greyish light of the early dawn had already begun to bleed into their rooms, faintly illuminating the surfaces, creating a slightly gloomy if not still cozy, hazy ambiance. 

Soft as she could, Rhaena tried to turn herself around without jolting her husband awake. 

Yes, she craved his love and attention at this very moment, but she still had her sense about her. She wanted to wake him gradually, she knew he was a very light sleeper, and the slightest touch could and most likely would wake him. But whenever she could, she still liked to see him in the mornings. Aemond never looked as blissful as he did when he was fast asleep. He'd say he was at his most vulnerable whenever he wasn't wearing his sapphire, but Rhaena would say he seemed far more vulnerable when he was relaxed and resting. 

Slowly, she tried …

"Mmm...are you trying to escape me, zaldrītsos ," little dragon , his voice rasped in a low sleepy grumble as his hold around her tightened. 

Her dragon was clearly an incredibly light sleeper, she'd barely nudged him and he'd awoken, she would've never succeeded in turning over completely to face him.

Smiling softly, Rhaena tried to glance back at him, but he was only snuggling himself closer to her, breathing lightly her voice lilted, "of course not, my love. I was only going to turn over," her own voice was still a tad bit groggier than she'd thought it'd be. 

"What for," Aemond hummed as his lips softly trailed a heated path along her neck, his hands caressing her stomach lovingly so. Slipping up to tenderly hold and squeeze her swelling breasts, they were slightly tender but Rhaena couldn't deny the sensation his hands gave her. She was also quite sure she could feel the great length of his extremely hard cock pressing against her plush bottom, making it rather obvious what he was after this morning. 

Thank the Gods, for she was desperate for it as well. 

Reaching her hand back behind herself, she carded her fingers through his silky hair, closing her eyes as she melted into his affectionate hold, "because...you look so peaceful when you're asleep, and I just wished to see your face," truly his face looked beautiful and rather adorable when he was asleep, but she'd never be able to tell him that so boldly…at least not at this moment. So she simply bit back a smile, noticing how he stilled against her for only a moment. 

She'd caught him off guard yet again...small moments Rhaena had found she truly relished. 

Though it did not last long, soon enough he was growling against her, his large hands sliding down from her breasts over her curves and down to her hips. Causing soft mewls to fall from her lips as he began to lightly grind his hips against her bottom, a wordless prodding question, his body already clearly begging for her to give into him. 

Rhaena wouldn't bother fighting against it; she wanted what he was offering. Though she supposed sometimes she liked to let him think it was his idea initially. 

Each warm kiss he peppered along her neck then shoulder just made her body shiver with the burning desire for him to enter her. 

"Mmmm Aemond, surely you don't plan to tease me so early," the words had slipped in a half moan half groan, her hand slipping from his hair and moving along his jaw. She felt the moment his clenching jaw softened at her touch, how he slipped a kiss to the palm of her hand as he pulled his hips back enough to guide his tip towards her entrance. 

Just like she wanted. 

Thankfully no begging was needed.  

Though Rhaena could wager Aemond wouldn't possess any such willpower when he'd only just awoken as she had. His primal urge would win, and thank the Gods because her own primal urges wanted him desperately. 

As the cool morning light bathed their room, he slowly thrusted into her from behind, deep and perfectly placed. Rhaena's teeth were still biting into her lower lip when the sweet sensation of his thick cock pulsed within her, coaxing a breathy moan to force its way from her throat. 

Gods, he felt so good, all thick and lengthy, stretching her already soaked cunt so perfectly. 

There might have been words she wanted to say but her mind was melting too much by the second. 

Paired with the searing feeling of his teeth grazing and biting her neck, he licked and kissed the areas making semi-permanent marks for his possessive enjoyment. And she loved every second of it, but the calming pace at which he thrusted into her was driving her mad. Her legs were squirming and itching to kick as her hips rocked in sync with his. 

All the while she only felt Aemond's lips spread into a knowing smirk against her neck, "so impatient, my sweet little wife," he chuckled against her skin. As one of his hands slipped under neck, reaching around her, sliding between her breasts and clutching one of them. Holding her flush against him as his other hand slid up and over her hip, then down between her thighs and towards her wet center. 

She knew what he was going to do before he did it, the moment his index and middle finger began rubbing crucial circles against her clit was the moment Rhaena's entire body began to hum and tingle. She was sobbing sweet moans every time his thrusts moved in sync with the friction his fingers caused her. Rhaena's hands were desperate to find some sort of purchase, one hand gripping onto his elbow as the other slid behind her and gripped onto his hip, her nails biting into his skin making him groan lowly right by her ear. 

"Dōna byka ābrazȳrys...ōregon ñuha riña isse aōha iemny," sweet little wife...carrying my child in your belly , his warm breath trailed along her skin, his voice sounded like smooth silk, "gūrogon ñuha orvorta sīr sȳrī...rual nyke naejot leghagon ao...qogralbar aōha ȳrda byka orvorta...mirre ñuhon," taking my cock so well...allowing me to fill you...fuck your tight little cunt...all mine. 

It wouldn't have mattered what language he said those words in, but the added fact that he'd chosen High Valyrian made her body feel like it was prime to blow, spontaneous combustion felt imminent. Rhaena couldn't manage anything beyond moaning his name, each lick of his cock only made her hips rock faster, her slurring moans begged him to fuck her with more intensity.

And thank the Gods he did.

Rhaena was trapped in a haze, early morning couplings always felt like the sweetest of dreams. As if she was in a daze yet somehow still wide awake, her mind was clouded with the overwhelming level of immense pleasure she was experiencing but even still her dragon's blood felt like it was calling to his. The ravenous beast that only he could unleash within her. His words only spurred her on, his praise always made her feel so complete, so wanted. 

Within the momentum, Aemond had managed to prop himself up on his elbow, leaving enough room for Rhaena to back just enough to see him leaning over her. Just as she always thought, he always looked like absolute perfection in the mornings. A glistening Valyrian God of Old, his long pale hair seemed to shimmer even more in the muted grey light of this morning. His indigo eye was a vibrant thing of beauty, while seeing his vacant socket gave her body an added surge of heat. Such sculpted cheekbones and full inviting lips…it was instinctual, her need to reach for his chin, to pull his lips down to meet her own. Her need to taste him most fervently, to breathe him in, to feel him with all of her senses as he continued to ram his cock into her.

When that all encompassing spark finally ran through her, her pleasure bursting over the horizon nearly in time with his. Rhaena felt herself slumping back, collapsing back against their bed in a sea of bliss of burning satisfaction. All the while, Aemond lowered himself back down, scooping her back up into his arms as he sweetly whispered her name, his teeth grazing her neck as his fingers circled her sensitive little bud in time with her moans. He rode her orgasm just as his came through for him, spilling his heated seed comfortably into her. 

He'd moaned her name with such a divine rasping baritone.

"Mmmm, I think this is proving to be a very good morning already," Rhaena sighed contentedly, quivering slightly as she felt Aemond's cock still twitch within her. She'd since let her hand reach back into his hair, caressing the unruly strands away from face as his arms tightened around her once more. 

With a low hum, he nodded against her neck, whispering back, "a perfect morning," allowing her body to turn just slightly towards him, while he stayed within her. Enough for her to turn her head just enough to reach his lips once again, capturing them completely, roving her tongue possessively over his. 

She'd wanted to taste him from the moment she'd woken herself this morning, and now she was truly soaking it in, and it made her feel whole again. 

Pulling back just a bit, Rhaena let her lips brush along his, smiling as his lips chased hers, "sadly, we can't lay here all morning-" 

He'd caught her lips before she could finish her sentence, his hand sliding between her legs once again, toying with her clit just enough to draw soft moans. He'd swallowed the sounds happily, smirking against her lips, "and why can't we. We, Lord over this castle now, I don't think anyone would dare interrupt us, especially not a Princely Lord spending time with his pregnant Princess of a wife. I'm in no mood to move now and I don't want you to move from this spot either." 

The sentiment was endearing, but if Rhaena knew Dragonstone and she did, there was far too much to do, far too many tasks to leave unattended. Surely there were several petitions to hear from, hearings to sit through, ceremonies to bless, livestock to bless and or reimburse…Sheepstealer was always causing some sort of trouble. 

As far as she knew it, her husband shouldn't have been too bogged down with duties today.  

But she'd have to double check with their Wardeness, Aelaera, as she kept a daily schedule, account, and management of their, well more specifically Rhaena's, full activities and duties. In the case of Aemond, Maester Varion, the current Head Maester of Dragonstone as Maester Gerardys had been appointed to King's Landing to serve the crown truly. In his stead here, Maester Varion was just as qualified and capable, and took to his new position seamlessly. He kept his logs and accounts, scheduling efficiently of every duty Aemond was to complete daily. 

Both Maester Varion and Wardeness Aelaera would usually brief Aemond and Rhaena in the mornings either before or after breakfast, and then the two would go off to do their duties.

Rhaena felt that after three moons of working together in these daily tasks that kept this castle and this island as a whole running properly…she dared to say they were doing a wonderful job. Her mother and father wrote to them constantly, mostly addressed to Rhaena, but Aemond was always mentioned heavily in those missives. And while some of the courtiers and town folk found Aemond to be a frightening Lording Prince, they did find him to be dutiful and proficient. As well as their growing adoration for Princess Rhaena herself, those parts of the missives never truly surprised her, as she'd only continued to do what she'd always done.

Treat people kindly and listen intently to their issues no matter how large or small they may seem. 

And it seemed the people appreciated that. 

But for the moment, Rhaena wasn't exactly against allowing her husband to lavish her in their bed this morning. The attention felt lovely, and so she'd happily soak it all in. 

The grey morning light made telling the specific time of morning rather indiscernible, it was something about the way the hard island rain rattled against the glass of the windows and stone walls of the castle. The sound was both calming and numbing, it only made one wish to waste the day away even more. 

"All of this love and attention so early in the morning, is it solely for me or it is because of the babe in my belly," Rhaena teased as his lips trailed heat along her jaw, kissing her favoured spots purposely as he slowly pulled his cock from her. Allowing her to lay flat on her back as he lay on his side, leaning over her just slightly. 

Aemond's deep Indigo eye cut through her so hypnotically, she might have nearly missed the way his jaw had tightened at her jest, "ñuha prūmia," my heart , his low voice stilled her jesting mood almost instantly. As his hand warmly caressed the growing curve of her belly, slowing and holding her possessively there, "my love and attention is made for both of you."

Rhaena felt her throat run dry for just a moment, swallowing thickly as she let the incredibly sultry tone in his voice float through her. It shouldn't have been this easy for her to find herself so aroused all over again. 

Slowly she slipped hand up to caress his scarred cheek, gazing comfortably into his vacant socket, as his sapphire was left on her bedside table. She sighed a sweet contented smile, her thumb tracing his scar with fine familiarity before she allowed her fingers to dip through his incredibly soft hair in her own possessive gesture. 

God's, mornings like these…Rhaena was certain life had never felt so perfect. 

Well…aside from the babe inside of her pushing down on her bladder, making her desperately need to relieve herself suddenly. 

Thankfully it seemed he could tell from the shifting blissful look on her face that now sunk into pure discomfort, he removed his hand from her stomach and instead cupped her cheek. He drew her in, softly pressing his lips to her forehead, "I see our child has decided to spoil our mood once again," she could hear the smile in his tone.  

"Oh, my love. I'm incredibly close to changing my term of endearment for this babe," Rhaena grimaced as she dared to rub her belly gently, "our little one seems intent on souring my mood whenever possible, I'm nearly certain I'm growing a little gremlin," 

She hadn't intended on pouting then, but her lips had done the gesture all on their own. 

Making Aemond chuckle in earnest as he began to pull himself from her. She certainly mourned the loss of his heat, but she casually enjoyed the sight of her bare naked, toned dragon walking across their chambers. Happily watching as the muscles on his back stretched and flowed as he reached for a pair of breeches and the sleek way he bent over to pull them on. 

What a lovely thing it was to know that this being was all hers. 

And hers alone. 

Soon enough he made his way back to her, taking her hands and arms, as he gently helped her out of bed. As she stood against him, her hands slid from his hands, to his forearms, to his biceps, to finally landing sturdy on his shoulders. 

But GOD'S how she needed the toilets. 

She'd squeezed her eyes shut by then, wincing and whining as the pressure within her pressed harder against her bladder. 

Thank the Flames, her loving husband was here to help her waddle over, allowing her to lean all of her weight against him as he guided her to their bathing ensuite of their chambers. The moment she sat upon the marble stoned toilet fixture, Rhaena was sure there was no sweeter release than loosening the pent up pressure from her bladder.  

All the all while, Aemond only leaned against the door frame, watching her fondly with a knowing smile. 

Once she no longer felt as if she were primed to explode, Rhaena rolled her eyes and smiled back, "what is it now, my dragon?" 

"Oh nothing," he smirked, crossing his arms casually, "I only wonder if there will be any clues or signs as to whether our little gremlin is a boy or girl."  

Rhaena couldn't help but giggle at the sound of him using the humorous term she'd referred to their babe as just moments ago. 

"Boy or girl I couldn't be certain, but either way I'm beginning to think they have far too much of you in them already," she smiled, wiping herself clean with a soft clean cloth. She then pulled herself to her feet, washing her hands in the basin before Aemond helped her into one of her crimson red silk robes. 

Somewhere in-between he'd managed to steal a soft beaming kiss from her, grinning against her lips, "well surely you should have expected that, sweet girl." 

Rhaena wanted to bat him away, but her heart was swelling far too happily to let her complete the motion with any real force. Instead she'd end up looping her arms around his neck, leaning her forehead warmly against his. Breathing him in for a just moment before she sighed, "hmm, I suppose so. I also suppose you should summon my chambermaids and ladies maids, we do have to officially start the day." 

"If we must," he smirked, guiding her back to sit on the edge of her bed. 

Reluctantly, yes, it was indeed time to start the day. 

☾

Rhaena's days usually started the same way, similar to most, but there were variations. 

She supposed it usually depended on how Aemond's morning started. For the most part, she could count on her husband's tendency to rise early in the morning. He seemed to always rise with the sun, something Rhaena could never really be counted on to do on purpose. On days like those, he'd awaken early, slip from their bed and head down to the training yard. Intensively training his body, until his muscles burned from the strain, he was always aiming to improve his skills and his techniques. 

He'd explained it to her before. 

And while Rhaena could say that she somewhat understood what he'd meant...she did wonder why he felt it so necessary to work his body so brutally. They had their own guards now, ones they specifically chose themselves. They weren't Gold Cloaks or former King's guards or rejected Queen's guards. 

As was historically customary, Rhaena and Aemond had chosen several knights from the Hell's Legion themselves. The age-old military post that had been established by Aegon the Conqueror and his conquering sister wives Rhaenys and Visenya. To weaponize the land of Hell's Edge, inhabitable as their ancestors once thought it to be, it was the conquering Queen Visenya who saw its potential and fortified it into its full potential. Creating an army full of Valyrian soldiers who were subservient to the crown and to the true blood of the dragon, house Targaryen. 

Every initiate had to have a recognizable amount of Valryian blood within them to be welcomed, bastards and dragonseeds were all welcome to join this noble outpost, even certain Targaryen Princes of the past had chosen the noble right to serve this ancestral post. 

Every six months dozens of initiates were welcome, and for three months those initiates would be trained brutally. Extensively pushing their bodies to limit, testing their resolve, their loyalties, their integrity. Quests and tests of all varieties were tasked upon these initiates, any who died during these tests were deemed to not have been worthy to begin with...and any who survived only had one final test to pass to truly be welcomed into the fold.

The dragon test. 

The final initiates would be brought to the castle to be introduced to the ruling Prince of Dragonstone. There they would all stand before Prince's bonded mount, upon the sacred Dragon Mound. This was deemed a blessed ceremony of sorts, to stand before a Dragon Prince and his beast, there to be deemed worthy of entry or to be destroyed. The Prince would ask one thing of his dragon, to determine who was truly the blood of Old Valyria. If the dragon deemed them worthy, deemed their Valyrian blood to be enough, then the knight would survive...if not...the Prince would not stand in the way of allowing his mount to burn and devour the unworthy initiate. 

Hell's Edge could only accept the best of the best. For the Knights who passed this final test would be knighted truly by the Prince of Dragonstone, finally welcomed to the Legion. Those knights would then be given the rights to learn age-old techniques and magics, alchemy and healing. They'd be taught by surviving Maesters and scholars, within the posting, their libraries full of tomes and archives on all manner of specialized practices in those fields. With hidden  secrets and relics to defeat any creature, beast or otherwise

In all honesty it was fair to say a lot of what Rhaena had known of that place had been read in texts and scrolls, if not told to her and explained to her by her father. Daemon was a relic of Old Valyria himself in a sense, and it was not unsurprising to raise a question of any sort on the topic to her father, for he usually had the answer and knowledge on it. 

What she knew of the Legion, was what mattered most. 

They were ruthless and their loyalty could not and would not stray.

When a King or Queen of old declared war, they called upon that army, they would unleash the “Hell's Legion” as they themselves rode upon their dragons and reigned fire down upon their enemies. 

It was always the custom for both the ruling King and Queen to appoint their King's Guards from this legion. Rhaena’s uncle Viserys had not done so...and unfortunately he somewhat paid the price for hiring Knights who were not succinctly loyal to him and his family above all else. 

Rhaenyra had not made this mistake. Yes she kept Rhaena’s kepa's Gold Cloaks close, but she'd made sure to appoint her chosen Queen's Guards from the Hell's Legion as was always the custom to. 

Just as Rhaena and Aemond had here. 

A knight of the Hell's Legion was easy to spot, while not all of them carried the tell-tale Valryian pale hair or specifically varying purple or unnaturally bright blue eyes...it was always a variation of these features that graced these knights. Their armour was solid black, dragon-esque in its design, with engravings and ridges made and designed for close-range combat should a soldier ever lose their sword or weapon. They wore either solid black capes, for Dragonstone, or black capes that bled into deep Targaryen red at the tips as members of the Queen's Guard. 

Their center emblem is the three headed Targaryen Dragon, but the whole chest plate and armour is  welded and molded to look like the chest ridges of a dragon. 

While they all wielded dark blades, made from the volcanic rock of the Dragon Mount, and forged with the heat of the volcano. Very powerful and durably made steel, it was not quite Valyrian steel, for they are not forged with dragons' fire...but they were still superior to the average steel made elsewhere. 

They rode to war on armoured black horses, like a true legion from the depths of hell themselves. 

Was it any wonder they were one of, if not, the most feared army of all probably next to the truly formidable Dothraki hordes. 

Suffice to say, here in the Dragonstone castle, they had nearly fifty knights posted to serve and protect the grounds. With six personal Prince and Princess Guards who guarded Aemond and Rhaena...well mostly Rhaena, especially now in her pregnant state. 

If it was up to Aemond he wouldn't have any of the six personal knights guard him at all, initially he wanted all six just to guard Rhaena...a matter on which she was quite adamant that her husband was being a touch too over protective. She needed guarding, sure...she did not, however, need all of their guards to guard her though. 

She tried to reason that he should at least keep two with him throughout the days, especially when they were apart. 

He'd agreed in the beginning...and then he tried to narrow that number down to one. Though, most days, Rhaena managed to convince two to stay by side, leaving four guards to walk the grounds behind her during her daily tasks. 

The only time Aemond was everkeen to keep two knights with him was when he wished to train. He'd purposely face off against and train with either one, if not, more often now, two at once. If he was feeling bold he'd enlist a third or fourth knight to train with him. 

He never wanted them to hold back against him, he wanted their best, and if they bested him, that only meant that he'd spend the next day training even harder...and harder. 

The amount of mornings in which her husband would return to their chambers, return to her, all battered and bruised. It ached her greatly, but he always seemed the better for it. Energized and excitable, there was usually an equal chance that he'd most likely return to bed to take her eagerly or more calmly he'd summon a bath for them and bathe with her. 

In their bathing chambers here as the ruling Lords of this castle, their large tub was a stationary one, white and gold made of smoothed marble stones. 

Those baths were always Rhaena's favourite, leaning back against her dragon, allowing him to gently care for her. As, ever since her belly had started to show, he'd become increasingly more and more protective of her. Wanting to have her to himself as much as he possibly could, he barely wanted Rhaena's chosen chambermaids to attend to her some days. Bathing with her, so that he could hold her himself, he'd even learned of the method in which she used to wash and care for her curls just so he could do that for her as well. And Rhaena could admit, being lavished with such care by one's husband held a far sweeter flavour to her mornings then the usual methodical approach of one's chambermaids. 

But unfortunately, this wasn't that sort of morning. Aemond had opted to stay abed with her this morning, waking to her nice and slowly. That choice alone meant he'd have to alter his schedule to fit his training in afterwards, meaning...this would have to be one of those mornings where she bathed alone. 

It wasn't all bad, Rhaena had liked her chambermaids. In fact she liked the vast majority of her staff here, she'd been given such free range, to interview and appoint her own inner circle. From her chambermaids to her ladies maids, and even her four new companions, four specifically chosen Ladies-in-waiting. 

But everyday started with her chambermaids, three girls, Kiera, Allyria and Cass, who were from common if not impoverished backgrounds who were tasked with preparing Rhaena in her bathing chambers. 

Kiera, who was from the free city of Braavos, had arrived with her elder sister Myria for positions in a royal household. Escaping the lowly choices available to them there, they were hoping Westeros had more to offer them...and they were right. Kiera would be chosen as a chambermaid, as she already had experience in the area, while Myria had been positioned as a ladies maid, where her skills were suited better. 

They both had rich brown sepia-toned skin, dark brown eyes, and thick dark chocolatey brown curls that formed a more fro-like shape, like some of Rhaena's more Velaryon featured cousins. They looked quite alike, but Myria's face was indeed slightly slimmer, her cheekbones slightly more pronounced as well as the fact that she wore more piercings than her sister. A fashion the Free Cities seemed to appreciate. One above her left eyebrow, and several teal studs upon her ears. Kiera for her part, had slightly darker hair, and her face held a softer, rounder appearance. 

Allyria, was a bastard-born girl from the Riverlands. With pale peach-toned ivory skin, and soft facial features. Wavy reddish pale brown hair and pale blue eyes. Her mother had operated out of a whorehouse in Riverrun, and by all likelihood, she was probably a bastard child of either house Tully or house Greyjoy, but she could prove neither. And so, the majority of her life she'd spent on her back at the mercy of men, good or cruel, so long as they had good coin to pay her...to pay the whorehouse at large. It wasn't a life she thrived in, so she made her escape...heard of the crowning of Princess Rhaena of Dragonstone...and made it her mission to secure a position. As she had succeeded in doing. 

Finally, Cass, a lowborn daughter of the Vale. She had warm ivory skin, which contrasted greatly with her pin-straight dark brown, nearly black hair. Cut short to her neck, with thin veiled bangs, her face held sharper features. A pointed jaw and chin, but her cheeks and eyes were soft. Greyish hazel eyes that spoke of wisdom beyond her years. She was incredibly intelligent and pragmatic, and in truth Rhaena alternated her position with other ladies maids quite often, as Cass was great company, truly. She was well read, and quite knowledgeable on most things. If anything, Rhaena had her as her chambermaid solely to start her day with good conversation most of the time. 

As Rhaena soaked herself in the steaming hot water of her bath, all three girls entered her bathing chamber, announcing themselves duly before entering. They curtsied and bowed before Rhaena, before they took their positions, Cass knelt to Rhaena's right, Allyria to her left, while Kiera knelt behind her. Cass and Allyria would scrub and bathe Rhaena while Kiera washed and cared for Rhaena's hair. 

It was a team effort, befitting the station of a ruling Princess. 

But Rhaena could admit that some days it felt like far too much pampering. 

Some days she'd dismiss the girls just to have the freedom of bathing herself. But it wasn't something she did often, she knew these girls were only doing their job, and if she dismissed them too often, it would make it seem as if their jobs were not needed...and they'd be let go. Which was not an outcome Rhaena wished to cause. 

Besides that, as the moons rolled on, Rhaena's pregnant body was working against her. The aches and soreness, along with the added weight the babe gave her...and had her put on, it wasn't as easy to lift herself in and out of the tub anymore. She already spent her days waddling from place to place, she was beginning to realize she'd have to accept a great deal of the help offered to her.  

"Tell me, Cass," Rhaena spoke casually, leaning back as the nimble fingers of Kiera worked their way along Rhaena's scalp and through her long silvery-white curls, "it seems today we shall have a great deal of stormy weather, do you still believe the same amount dignitaries shall come?" 

Yesterday, Rhaena's Wardeness, Aelaera, made mention that there was a great possibility that Prince of Volantis might make the journey to Dragonstone. He had no interest in joining the realm of Westeros as a whole, but it seems his wife had recently birthed him a son, and he was looking to secure a future Valyrian bride for his child. 

As Baela had birthed a son herself, the Volantis' Prince's hopes were dashed to marry into the Targaryen family. 

That was...until Rhaena's own pregnancy was announced to the realm. 

As the moons had passed, they'd received many a letter of possible marriage pacts for their child...even though none of these Lords knew the sex of their child just yet. No one did, the babe wouldn't be born for another 2 or 3 moons.

Aemond had become quite irritated with the letters, he cared very little for these offers, both because their child had yet to enter this world yet...and more than likely, he dismissed most of these offers because they were not Valyrian offers. 

If Rhaena knew her Valyrian purist husband well, and she did, she knew he'd want their children to marry Valyrian. Which unless he intended to marry all of their children to either Volantis, or the Celtigars or the Rogares...he'd have to square up to the fact that their children might marry some of their cousins. 

Either Jace or Luke's children to be, a fact that overjoyed Rhaena, and made it entirely comical whenever she mentioned it to Aemond. He still grimaced at the acceptance of that fact. 

"Well, my Princess, I've yet to see Aelaera this morn, so I could not be certain," Cass began, her slightly scratchy voice flowed softly, "but I'd assume the Prince of Volantis would not miss a chance to greet and dine with both you and Prince Aemond. Any royal family or Lording House would wish to create a marriage pact with House Targaryen, or course." 

Of course. 

Cass did spend a great deal of time with Aelaera, almost as if to be a Wardeness in training . Sadly, Cass held no Valryian blood, so she could not hold such a position here, even if Rhaena's mother was implored by Rhaena to make it so. 

Tradition ruled against it.

But, that didn't mean that Cass couldn't work alongside with Aelaera. 

It posed a great question for later. 

She'd broach the topic with Cass on her own, promote the girl to a newly created assistant role for Aelaera to divvy her lesser duties for Cass to handle. 

And then Rhaena would simply fill this chambermaid position with another. 

Yes, perfect.  

"Your Grace," Allyria's kind voice broke through Rhaena's train of thought, "the Harvest Festival is take place in two days time..." 

"Oh yes!" Rhaena smiled brightly, her body warming at the thought of all there was to do and prepare. But as Rhaena glanced over at her docile maid, she realized the look on the girl's face was far more sullen than she expected, prompting her to ask, "oh...is there something the matter with the Harvest Festival?" 

"I just...all staff are meant to accompany you that day, or so I've heard...but I'm not very fond of blood...or the sacrifices..." Allyria stumbled her way through her explanation, squinting her eyes and flinching as if she expected to be berated or hit. 

It was something Rhaena had noticed before, a reflex the girl must've picked up from a previously abusive position she must've held in another Lord's home or so. 

With a soft sigh, Rhaena gently took Allyria's hand and smiled, "there is no worry, Allyria. Contrary to how it may be in other households, you needn't accompany me throughout the entire day. The ceremony at the Temple of Elaena, is only attended by the royal family. Aemond and I shall go there by carriage and meet with the Priestesses there ourselves to bless the harvest. You shall not have to witness any sacrifices." 

The Temple of Elaena was an age-old sacred temple that lay in the old farming town , Tegun Skrykos , which translated to  'Land Of Shrykos' or 'Shrykos' Land' , both translations had always been accepted. This town is located on the western side of the island, in the lower regions, where due to years of volcanic shakes and previous eruptions, the land is slightly separated there. 

"Thank you, your Grace," Allyria breathed happily, accepting Rhaena's gentle hold. 

"What if I wished to attend," Kiera grinned, breaking the tensions of the room, "I should like to see a true Valyrian ceremony and sacrifice from up close. I've read about them before." 

Rhaena smirked at the comment, jokingly batting her hand at her, "shush Kiera, you cannot be so bloodthirsty this early in the morn," 

Once her bathing was complete, Rhaena was assisted out of the tub and patted dry with the softest of cotton wraps. Afterwards, she'd have Kiera add the finishing touches to her hair. Lathering in, massaging into the roots of her hair, slicked down the tips, was a white thickening mousse like cream popularly used by Pentoshi women with curls like Rhaena's own. Its rich syrupy sweet scent was one Rhaena was incredibly fond of, as well, she enjoyed just how much the sweet scent drove Aemond mad. Like a pheromone that attracted a bee to honey, on the days Rhaena washed her hair, it was usually quite hard to keep Aemond at bay. 

The mousse would be rinsed, and then a golden coloured moistening oil would be dripped into her roots. Kiera would skillfully massage and scrunch Rhaena's curls to hold the oil thoroughly. Once the process was completed, and her hair had dried, her silvery-white curls would be full and defined, beautiful, silky and bouncy ringlets. Ready to be styled up by one of her Ladiesmaids. 

While all of that was happening, Allyria would be tasked with moisturizing Rhaena's body, with a thick cocoa based butter-like creme that left Rhaena's skin smooth and gleaming. 

It was around this time that Rhaena would have liked to have her Wardeness summoned to her, knowing that by the time both girls had finished with Rhaena's hair and her skin, she'd be ready for her Ladiesmaids to dress and style her. And in that state of being partially dressed, it was the perfect time for Aelaera to inform Rhaena of her tasks for the day. 

So Rhaena sent Cass to retrieve Aelaera for her, and just as she planned, by the time they returned, Rhaena had already donned her undergarments as she stood in her bed chambers with her Ladiesmaids. Myria, Layna and Samantha. 

Layna, a pretty girl who sadly seemed to have a very similar past and upbringing as Allyria had. A former whore, who did as she had to, not as she wished to. A past Rhaena cared not to hold against any woman. Her skin held a similarly pale peach-tone to Allyria's, but her features had a far more Dornish...if not Velaryon quality to them. With shapely lips and a slightly flatter bridged nose. Her hair was pale brown, borderline blonde, with thick long bouncy curls and mischievous green eyes. She was a comical girl, and whatever her experiences were... she'd seemed to take them in stride. Never looking back, only looking forward. 

Samantha or Sam as she prefers to be called, was a kindly girl who actually used to work in the capital as a ladies maid. She used to serve Helaena, and by proxy had a slightly frisky consensual relationship with Aegon for a couple of years. It wasn't a matter or an issue, Helaena and Aegon may remain married on the face of things, but the whole family knows that they don't treat their private lives as such. Aegon has his mistresses, a fact Helaena has given full consent to, while Helaena keeps to her own private vices. Sam only wished to leave because as her relationship with Aegon came to mutual end, she wished to separate herself from him...in a perfect opportunity, Helaena suggested Rhaena take her on. As Sam was both skilled and experienced in this line of work. 

She had long straight raven black hair, pale porcelain skin and misty hazel eyes. Plump cheeks and plush lips, she claimed to be from the Stormlands, but there was something about her facial features that at least spoke to some sort of Free Cities' mixture. 

Like a swap of a shift, Allyria and Kiera tended to cleaning the bathing chamber, emptying the used bath water, cleaning the tub and putting away the various utensils. All while Cass tended to another errand Rhaena sent her on. 

But now that Aelaera was here, Rhaena prepared herself to hear of her activities for the day. 

Aelaera was an older woman, older than Rhaena's mother Rhaenyra, but most likely a bit younger than grandmother Rhaenys. Aelaera on the whole actually reminded Rhaena of her Lady grandmother a great deal, perhaps that is why she felt so comfortable with the woman. She held the same sort of stoic dutiful demeanor, with very Valyrian features, pale ivory skin and pale blondish-white hair. She held bright Valyrian blue eyes, and as Rhaena knew it she was most likely a lower born member of the Celtigar house. She'd fostered here with Dragonstone Maesters for the majority of her life however, so she was beyond skilled and experienced for this position...hence why Rhaenyra had appointed her. 

As Rhaena chose the pale lavender silk gown she wished to wear, Sam and Layna began to loosely work Rhaena into her underskirt, then her corset, tied lightly so as not to constrict the babe or cause discomfort. Myria tended to Rhaena's hair, as Rhaena had given her maid free reign on the styling she wished to do. She watched as her maid skillfully wrapped and beautifully piled her curls atop her head in a graceful style. Leaving tendrils of curls down to frame her face, braiding the ones by her ears in a specifically Valyrian style of braid. 

"My Princess," Aelaera greeted Rhaena properly, standing off by her right, keeping perfect contact, "on the list for this morn, you have decorations and menu items to approve of for the Harvest feast. Suggestions and ideas have already been listed down for you, your final say and or direct changes are needed to be finalized for today. There is a due rest break for you, then you have petitions and disputes from Dracaena and Tegun Skrykos. Dracaena has two port Labour law disputes to settle, while Tegun Skrykos has a neighborly disagreement settlement and Sheepstealer has once again devoured the livestock of another farmer…" 

At first, Rhaena was nodding and humming along, keeping a mental note of each activity and task. 

But then the petitions and disputes portion began and Rhaena had begun to notice a pattern that had befallen her yet again. It happened yesterday...and the day before that...and the day before that...

"Wardeness," Rhaena cut Aelaera off just as she began mentioning the late afternoon portion of blessing new born babes, "where are my hearings? For the past...week now, I haven't had a single hearing to attend to. Am I not meant to attend them with my husband? The Prince and Princess are meant to both preside over the hearings, for true impartiality." 

She said impartiality , but what she really meant was she knew she needed to be present so that her husband wouldn't simply get annoyed with a man's tone of voice and decide he was guilty because of it. Rhaena's goal was always to keep her husband's murderous rage at bay, but if she wasn't there to do that...who would? 

When Aelaera didn't answer in her usual timely manner, Rhaena found herself glancing over at the older woman. A slightly worried emotion flashed over her face before it returned to its usual steel-like resonance. 

This was not inspiring confidence. 

"Aelaera," Rhaena prodded more directly, "what is it? What is going on? This isn't just a coincidence is it," 

"No, Princess, it is not," Aelaera sighed, her eyes watching carefully as the Ladiesmaids finished lacing Rhaena into her gown. Applying the final touches, Rhaena's amethyst earrings, her Valyrian steel sapphire and amethyst necklace, as well as her varying sapphire and moonstone rings. 

Rhaena could see this was a topic Aelaera wished to broach with privacy, true privacy . 

Once Rhaena was certain she was presentable and ready, she dismissed her maids and gave her full attention to her Wardeness. 

"Princess, your...Prince Aemond doesn't seem to want you to attend any serious hearings in your current... condition ," Aelaera's surprisingly apprehensive tone told Rhaena that Aemond probably told this to her personally himself. Accompanied with a very serious death threat, if she knew her dragon well. 

With a heavy sigh, Rhaena worked to suppress her growing annoyance at the situation. 

He was doing it again. 

"What's brought this on? My listening and sitting through hearings is of no danger to the babe," Rhaena replied, stepping off her cushioned fitting platform, "I know he means well, but this is surely an unnecessary overstep." 

Aelaera's face gave nothing away, as she eyed Rhaena, "Princess, I would not blame him entirely. Maesters are incredibly over zealous at the worst of times. He's most likely been advised that any stressful activity or situation could harm your babe, and he's taken that to the literal extreme." 

Rhaena huffed at that, for even if Aemond had been instructed as such, he'd taken this advice to the extreme now. If, according to him, she was no longer able to handle hearings, soon enough he'd take petitions off of her plate as well. He already ensured her guards keep an even closer watch over, had insisted she minimize her steps around the castle, let maids fetch and do more for her...the other night he was incredibly close to suggesting one of her maids or guards should double as her official taste tester . 

It was becoming a lot. 

And yes, she loved him for caring as much as he clearly did. 

But she did not need this much pampering. 

No, she'd settle this now. 

And she would succeed with this, she wouldn't cow to his sultry voice or affectionate touches, she could get over his intense levelled gazes. She'd push through the overall inticing nature of her husband and get him to yield to her wants. 

She wanted her duties back. 

She did not need him to handle them for her. 

She could do this. 

"Aelaera, my husband, where is he," Rhaena started, making her way towards her bed chamber doors. She knew where Aemond most likely was, more likely than not, he was still training, but it didn't hurt to be certain. 

Her Wardeness was quick to follow, "in the training yard, Princess. But I would advise against this, surely the Prince only has the best intentions for why-" 

"I mean no disrespect, Aelaera, but I care not for advice on this matter," Rhaena smoothly replied as she opened her main chamber doors. Making her way down the corridor, her four knights immediately moved after she did. She waited a minute, for their usual formation to take hold. Two knights walked five paces ahead of her while two knights walked five paces behind her. 

Aelaera had hurried to keep herself in pace with Rhaena, for surely this was the fastest she'd moved since her belly had grown as large as it had. 

"Princess, with the lessened steps the Prince wishes for you to have during the day," the Wardeness spoke with slight gasp of air, she certainly wasn't used to walking at this speed with Rhaena, "surely this would exceed them, to walk down to the training yard and then to have to return up the number of stairs and steps again. Shall I not just summon him to come to you?" 

Rhaena was barely registering the idea, she didn't want him summoned to her, that would only prove his point. That she needed to be wrapped up and protected, catered to, when now more than ever, she wanted tasks to occupy her time. 

"No," Rhaena simply replied, "Aemond responds to shows of force. I need to meet him where he is, so he might take my complaint seriously," 

Now, Rhaena could understand Aelaera's apprehension. Most Lord husbands, when they made a decision or proclamation, their Lady wives' were meant to simply obey them. To take what they were given without question, without recourse or rebuttal. 

Even some Targaryen marriages could be seen with such a dynamic. 

But Aelaera should also know, that while some Targaryen wives may have been content to follow their husbands word and rule without question. 

Most Targaryen would not. 

The blood of the dragon bit out in various ways and forms. 

For as docile and sweet as Rhaena was by nature, she was not and had never been afraid to face Aemond when she needed to. Even now, as she'd been married to her wedded husband for a grand total five moons now. If she didn't agree with him, if she needed to confront him, depending on the situation she may have had her own level of apprehension. 

But she'd always find a way to confront him. 

To face him. 

Aelaera would not make a fuss over it, once she was sure Rhaena wasn't going to take her advice anyhow, she simply walked with her. Accompanying her down to the training yard. 

They passed the guards standing guard by the entrance to the Dragon's hold. Making their way into the more common areas of the castle. Where they passed by several courtiers who now resided within these castle walls as a sign for a more unified realm, building furthering relationships with the next generation of Lords and Ladies. 

Rhaena would only faintly greet each noble she passed, smiling softly with nods of recognition, as she followed her guards down the main grand staircase. The main level of the castle was a lot more lively, the hustle and bustle of the many maids and servants shuffling to reach their posts to complete their own tasks. More nobles making their rounds as they strolled the halls and hoped to greet their Lording Prince or Princess. 

Rhaena kept her persona as crisp as she always did, for whatever emotions she saw fit to share with her trusted Wardeness...the collective courtiers of the castle could not be privy to it. 

Once they rounded their way towards the southern exit, Rhaena motioned for another maid to follow with a tall rain repellent covering to hold over Rhaena and Aelaera as they stepped outside. For while the rain had lightened, it still drizzled and spittled down from the heavens. 

As they grew closer to the training yard, the sound of clashing steel and whirling sharp blades echoed out. 

Every step was drawing slightly more trepidation from Rhaena, as she'd initially moved to argue with her husband on pure impulse...and as she walked passed the beautiful southern garden her father had once commissioned be up kept for her mother, one part of a vast lovely garden that covered the grounds...a garden Rhaena now took comfort it having kept nicely. She'd watched as all the green plants and previously blooming flowers slowly died due the time of year,, the ninth moon of the year, wilting stems and fallen petals and leaves, all soaked and watered with the rain. 

All the while...she grew closer to the training yard. 

With the dawning realization that she hadn't exactly planned ahead of time what she wished to say to her husband. 

She couldn't let Aemond have the upper hand in this, so she'd just have to rely on her gut instinct yet again- 

Without a word, her knights halted...and then so did the three knights her husband was training with. 

The movement was so perfect and precise, but their body language must've been the give away her husband needed. As he only chuckled and twirled his sword in his hand, without even turning around to face her, it seemed he already knew. 

Aemond's pale hair was tied back into a low ponytail, although it was all damp and drenched along with his back breeches, all due to the rain. He remained shirtless, his pale back completely exposing the faint scars he had along his flexing muscles. 

Rhaena took this time to step past Aelaera and two guards who stood in front of her. Slowly stepping forward with her maid holding the repellent cover still overhead. 

Rhaena watched as Aemond barely turned back, from the side of his face, she could already see his signature smirk forming, "mmm, skoros maghagon ao naejot nyke, byka ābrazȳrys," mmm, what brings you to me, little wife?

High Valyrian was meant to be their intimate choice for private conversations, but in moments like these, where they had Valyrian taught guards and servants present. It really served less of a point if everyone present could, for the most part, understood what they were speaking of. Surely their royal dialect of true High Valyrian would keep their guards and servants at bay, they most likely spoke and understood a lower dialect of it…but Aelaera was as good as any Maester, she would know. 

Although, Rhaena supposed, it wasn't really about that. 

It was about the intimacy, it was the fact that Aemond surely knew what this did to her. How hearing his low smooth voice speak their ancestral tongue so perfectly...how it made her body tingle and shiver, how her blood sang at the sound of it. 

"Jaelan ñuha valzȳrys naejot ivestragon nyke skoro syt issa meddling lēda ñuha tubis," I want my husband to tell me why he is meddling with my day, Rhaena swallowed, her throat drying...there was a problem growing on the horizon. Her body was beginning to ache for something else. 

Food . 

She hadn't had a morsel to eat all morning, and the babe wanted nourishing...she could feel it. Her stomach was primed to growl at any moment now, so she needed to speed this conversation along. 

Aemond handed his training sword to one of the Knights to put away, walking over to the slightly shedded weapons area where he snatched a clean dry cloth to wipe his face with. 

His leather patch looked damp now as well...ugh... FOCUS. 

Urging her maid to follow her as she moved towards Aemond, Rhaena crossed her arms overtop her belly as she eyed her husband. 

His smirk grew larger, as if her clear annoyance was just harmless entertainment for him. Which, surely it was, but that was not the effect Rhaena wanted to have right now. 

"Ivestragon nyke pār, skorkydoso emagon nyke gaomagon sīr," tell me then, how have I done so, he tossed the cloth to the side, crossing his own arms loosely, casually leaning back on his leg as he eyed carefully. 

His eye held both great amusement with a slight tinge of concern, Rhaena could see the gears turning in his head, he was beginning to think there was something wrong with her or the babe. 

"Ao-," you , Rhaena paused and decided she was in fact too annoyed and hungry to play this back and forth game with him, so she switched to the common tongue, "you took away my hearings! You've just unilaterally decided I'm no longer able to handle them? Without me? You didn't want to consult me on that decision? I noticed days ago...and I thought it was maybe a coincidence that I had something happening that day that conflicted with the times of the hearings...but no, you've specifically made that choice for me." 

There, his smirk faded as he exhaled heavily from his nose. 

"Rhaena, it's for the best," his tone wasn't harsh or sharp, but it was a solid low tone that spoke of a cemented decision he wouldn't budge on.  

That wouldn't do.

Rhaena took several steps closer to him, a dangerously close position, for this was we're she could be most susceptible to his charm. A charm she used to be able to work against, but ever since this babe started growing within her, a simple look from him made her want to tackle him and take him almost anywhere. Caution to the wind, she'd melt, she'd keen, she'd grapple and tear into him. 

No...she just needed to remain focused. 

*Growl* 

Oh, Gods. 

Her body was once again working against her, her stomach growling something fierce now. 

Which only brought Aemond's smirk back, as whatever worry he had...it seemed he now settled on the fact that the babe was likely fine, his wife was just hungry. 

"Ignore my stomach," Rhaena nearly pouted, growing annoyed with herself that she couldn't find it in herself to focus at all. She wanted him and she wanted food...and she wanted a drink, she was terribly thirsty now. Her feet felt slightly achy now, fuck, maybe Aelaera had been right about the amount of steps. 

But if Aelaera was right, then that would make Aemond right...and Rhaena didn't want to admit to that. 

"I can handle the hearings, Aemond," Rhaena pushed through, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to will away the feelings of hunger she had, "they're not too stressful for me, I am capable," 

Oh, please little babe, I'll feed you soon enough. Can't you work with your mama for once, instead of always working against me?

"Last week, a man from Dracaena was tried for killing a shopkeeper and stealing his products," Aemond replied matter-of-factly, stepping the final few steps in front of her, with ease he slipped his hands on her waist and pulled her close, "he was sentenced to death, a fair punishment for his crimes. And you burst into tears." 

Mmm...okay...yes, she had done that. 

The memory of it was coming back to her.  

Rolling her eyes slightly, she bit her lip, "yes...I recall that," 

"Mmm, a few days ago a farmer's hand was brought to trial for assaulting a farmer's daughter," Aemond started, and sadly she knew where this memory was going, "he was to be jailed, his bits severed from him...you cried."

Surely this wasn't a viable excuse as to why-

"Yesterday, a kitchen maid was caught trying to steal jewelry from our very rooms, and you told me to 'give her a second chance' as if she shouldn't have been jailed and fired at the very least, hands severed from her body automatically," Aemond's expression spoke of a man who felt he had no need to explain his thoughts on the matter for any longer. 

This wasn't fair. 

She wasn't choosing to be overly emotional about these matters, she'd handled them before.. .

"Ñuha jorrāelagon," my love , Aemond's tone had softened for her, as he drew a hand up to caress her cheek, "I'm sure it's due to the babe, but these hearings...they're making you emotional-" 

"Do say that again, please, I’m very much in the mood to run you through myself right now," Rhaena squinted her eyes up at him, sadly her challenging tone only made him chuckle. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as his thumb stroked her cheek affectionately. 

"I know you dislike this, but I've only removed the most stressful part of your day," his indigo eye searched hers for a nonverbal cue, an understanding that proved she understood him and agreed with him.

She did not. 

Or...she didn't want to. 

But it wasn't as if she could prove that she wouldn't feel emotional during the next hearing. 

In the end, Rhaena did her best to stand firm...and Aemond sighed in return, "do you really wish to fight me on this now? When, instead, you could be eating breakfast." 

Rhaena twisted her jaw at that, her lips folding as she pursed them. 

Fuck. 

He could see right through her. 

With a charming grin, he simply added, "I'm sure both you and our little gremlin is in need of nourishing." 

"It's not fair," Rhaena finally groaned as her stomach growled yet again. 

Reluctantly so, she finally relinquished. Letting her husband tip her chin up as he stole a kiss, before he began guiding her back towards the castle. With their guards in tow behind them, she knew she'd have to brace this topic with her husband again...another time.

When she was well fed. 

Maybe then her babe would let her win something. 

☾

'I know you dislike this, but I've only removed the most stressful part of your day,'

The arrogance of him.

How could he?

Well... mayhaps it wasn't strictly arrogance , clearly he did care. Maybe Rhaena was strictly ignoring the obvious fact that perhaps...in this specific case...he may...be...

... correct.

Ugh .

No.

It ached her to even think it, to even relinquish this victory to him mentally, was upsetting.

But even so, she'd allowed him to escort her back to their private dining hall, where a rather delightful spread was already prepared for them. A vast variety of mostly Rhaena's favourite breakfast foods. 

"Ipradagon," eat , her dragon's voice had been firm and direct, as if he knew she'd fight him on this as well...and she might have wanted to, "nyke'll sagon arlī isse iā moment," I'll return in a moment.

As he left with only one guard tailing him, Rhaena was left with the five remaining guards. Three standing guard outside of the doors, and two standing inside with her. 

It would be a slightly lonely breakfast if she had to wait for Aemond to finish bathing and readying himself before he joined her. They usually had their meals together, save for midday tea-times or lunch, it wasn't uncommon for Rhaena to share those moments with her Ladies-in-waiting. 

*Growl*  

In this case, it wouldn't be possible for Rhaena to wait. Her stomach felt as if it was caving in on itself, her babe must've been furious with her for eating nearly an hour later than her usual timing. 

So, Rhaena hoped to remedy that. Quickly filling her plate with bits and pieces of the abundance laid upon the table. Berries, and pastries, sausages and bacon, poached eggs. The greasier foods would fill her faster, and hopefully reach her babe and satisfy the little one. The pastries and the fruits slightly more for herself, but she was certain her little gremlin liked raspberries. 

It came as a shock though, as Rhaena had begun scarfing down her eggs and salted meats…it had tasted bland . Not unseasoned…just…not salty enough. 

She wanted more salt. 

It came across as a feeling, biting into her custard tart, it tasted perfect…sweet and creamy, just like heaven.

Then she bit a piece of her bacon…and it tasted…savoury…but bland . 

She wanted it saltier.

Why she couldn't say. 

But it was a feeling in her gut. 

So she reached across the table and practically battered her meat in salt…and then her eggs as well.

She was dangerously close to sprinkling salt over her bowl of berries when one of her guards spoke. 

Ser Garin Tanner, a young, commonly handsome looking knight. With curly walnut brown hair, nearly Valryian blue eyes and a sharply angled jaw. He usually guarded Rhaena closely, he was only a couple years her senior, he reminded her fondly of Jace in some ways. 

"My Princess, is the meal not to your liking? Should I have a maid send for something else?" Ser Garin questioned, his boyish tone quirked in the question, he was clearly concerned as to why his pregnant charge was pouring salt all over everything. 

Honestly…Rhaena was beginning to question herself as to why just as well. 

Slowly, Rhaena gulped down the salty mouthful she had in her mouth, locking eyes with her knight, "I am…no! No, all is well. Everything is…fine." 

That wasn't very reassuring. 

Another knight, Ser Drako Maar, who looked like the picture of Valyrian blood. With pale golden blonde curls that swooned by his neck, a playful smirk, a strong jaw and icy blue eyes. He was believed to be one of the best from Hell's Edge, hence why Aemond appointed Ser Drako to be one of Rhaena's personal guards. 

"But Princess, you've added a great deal of salt to everything, surely it's not been seasoned to your liking," Ser Drako let a slow smile grow upon his lips, Rhaena knew her staff was far more comfortable to be themselves in her presence than they were in with Aemond around. 

Sipping her spiced Lyseni tea, Rhaena only batted her lashes, "at ease boys, I am well. The babe craves salt, what am I to do for it." 

Ser Garin's lips twitched for only a second, before he folded them over in an effort to remain neutral. 

"It's not funny, Ser Garin," Rhaena nearly giggled, herself, before she pulled herself together, "shush, the both of you, I am trying to eat." 

"As you wish, Princess," Ser Drako, smiled with a shallow bow. One that Ser Garin mimicked immediately before returning to his impeccably straight solid posture. 

If they didn't have these modes of immature brotherly behaviour, she'd have thought them solid stone-like beings. A state they could remain in, and one Aemond always expected them to remain in. 

But Rhaena liked conversing with them in a far more relaxed sense. 

They were her guards, here to serve and protect her, yes. 

But they were kind, respectful, dutiful men, and it was nice to treat them as such on occasion. 

Soon enough, the dining hall doors were pulled in as Aemond sauntered in with purpose. Freshly groomed, dressed in his signature all black attire, his hair neatly combed as always, the silky sheen catching the grey morning light.  

He made his way to the empty end seat of the table, which was of course right next to her seat. Both knights nodded towards his entrance and took his presence as their signal to step out into the hall. 

Once the doors closed behind them, Aemond gazed over Rhaena, eyeing her plate as she'd managed to nearly inhale the majority of the contents. 

"Emagon ao geptot mirros syt nyke," have you left anything for me, his brow quirked playfully as his lips curved up, "Īlva rūs ēdruta emagon issare merbugon," our babe must have been hungry.

Rhaena bit back a smile, trying to remind herself that she was in fact still annoyed with him, "Īlva rūs ēza issare kreni," our babe has been satisfied.  

He hummed at her response, filling his own plate with salted meats and crisp fruits, "se skorkydoso iksis ñuha ābrazȳrys, iksis ziry kreni?" and how is my wife, is she satisfied?

Rhaena took another bite of her now incredibly salted eggs, the bitter tang soothing something within which cried for it. For several beats, she just let the silence hang in the air, not for dramatic effect…but solely because she wasn't sure how to word things. 

Outside in the training yard…she'd managed to fumble the situation, she'd gone to him, with what she thought was the upper hand. 

And yet…Aemond had managed to thwart her point with such decisive ease. 

So now, she was certain that she needed to be precise…she was no longer starving, so perhaps her mind could remain focused on the task at hand. 

Swallowing thickly, Rhaena ran her tongue along her lower lip, tucking a dainty braid behind her ear…as her eyes trailed up Aemond's chest, then pale neck…curving jaw and defined cheekbones. His silky hair clouded her mind yet again, she was in the mood to touch it…he hadn't braided it today. He'd done his old usual look of having it be half up and half down. 

But Rhaena wanted to braid it- 

For fucksake, the hearings! Focus on the hearings!  

He was looking at her now, another faintly stoic concerned eyebrow raise. 

"Jaelan ao naejot…Nyke jorrāelagon ao naejot…" I want you to…I need you to… ,Rhaena found her voice trailing off, she wasn't sure how she was meant to ask for this very same thing over again. How she intended to prove that she could handle the hearings without becoming overly emotional. There was heat brewing in her chest, rising with each breath she took. It was weighted, like a stone…and it made her heart hurt…made her cheeks burn. 

Am I going to cry? 

Now!?

Quickly, Rhaena bit her lip in an attempt to hold the emotional barrage at bay. This was such a simple question…he'd asked such a simple question. And the answer itself shouldn't have been difficult either. 

"Rhaena…" his smooth voice had struck her heart, maybe it was the hardened concern on his face, the emotion was obvious and clear…and then…he slid his hand over hers. 

Her fork had been trembling in her hand and she hadn't even realized. 

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

The internal screaming only grew louder as her throat grew sore and her body grew cold, her lower lip had begun to tremble, and then…

Her eyes began to fill with tears. 

"Did one of the guards say or do something?" Aemond's voice had hollowed out and hardened, his immediate reaction to seeing her in any sort of pain he couldn't explain, was to be on the offensive. Ready to pounce, maim, or slay anything or anyone who might have caused her pain. 

But what was upsetting could not be explained so easily. 

"No…no…the knights were fine, they didn't do anything," Rhaena slowly breathed, desperate to clear their names before Aemond thought to have any of them executed, "I can't explain it…"

It wasn't really about the hearings…deep down Rhaena knew it wasn't. 

She was more than likely, six moons along…in another three moons this babe would be ready to enter the world. She'd have to submit to the will of the Gods, to the fates, to nature…for…her birth mother did not survive the birthing bed on her third attempt. Baela and Rhaena, herself, had been her muña’s only successful births. 

How many Targaryen women failed to birth their babes and instead parished alongside them. 

Maybe it wasn't that at all either. 

Maybe it was just the grievances of growing a little dragon within her. How angry, annoyed…tired and achy she felt. Her mind was always a-scatter these days, her stomach always aching for more food…for odd foods. 

This time last moon, she'd only wanted sweet things. And now, all she reached for was bitter and salty.

She wanted to hit something, she wanted to return to bed. 

More than anything her lower regions raged for attention, attention she wasn't even sure could be satisfied like it normally was. 

How was it possible that she wished to fight her husband nearly as much as she wished for him to simply push his seat back so that she could climb atop him. 

A heavy sigh broke her concentration, Aemond had indeed moved from his seat, instead, opting to kneel down beside her. A gesture that drew him closer to her as he turned her seat to face him properly, making sure her direct line of sight could easily gaze down towards him. In the soft quiet of the moment, he reached up to brush away her tears with the smooth pad of his thumb, "ivestragon nyke," tell me.

Rhaena huffed, sniffling softly as she shook her head, "Nyke kostagon daor, nyke ȳdra daor know-" I can't, I don't know-

"Sylugon naejot," try to, he'd cut her off before she could flounder her sentence any further. With his hands sliding over and rubbing soothing caressing strokes along her thighs, Rhaena found her body had begun to warm again, her blood had calmed with his direct touch. 

"I feel like I'm going mad," she mumbled softly, her voice trembling as she closed her eyes, "I'm upset about everything. About the hearings…and about how I only wish to eat salty things now, and I think that custard tart I just had is making me feel ill. But I love custard tarts, and now the babe no longer wants me to eat them. And I hate how tired I get even though I only spend the majority of my days sitting in throne rooms, listening to other people talk and complain. I hate Lord Celtigar's perfume, I only passed by him this morn but it was so strong and pungent it made me feel ill…and Lady Vance gave me flowers the other day that were meant to smell of honeysuckle, but this morning the colour of them bothered me for some reason and the scent just made me feel sick. Most of all…I hate how upset I'm getting over all of this, which is nothing…all of it is all so inconsequential. Normally, I'd never cry over something so ridiculous. But you're right. You were right earlier, all I do is cry now and I don't know how to stop it…" 

More tears had fallen down her cheeks as she'd all but sobbed out a list of incoherent complaints. 

To his credit, Aemond hadn't arisen from his position. 

In fact, he actually chuckled. 

Might've been more of a genuine laugh really, when Rhaena peaked her eyes open to gaze down at him. He rubbed his eye delightedly, with that sweet honest smile on his lips, the one that made his cheeks form faint dimples, that only a rare few were ever privileged enough to see. 

Even so, his beautiful smile aside, Rhaena found it all confusing. 

She knew pregnancy brought on a great many emotions. 

But she couldn't recall it being all of this…or maybe her sister and her mothers' had just done a better job of keeping these overwhelming feelings hidden than she was currently able to. 

"What is so funny?" Rhaena's voice had slightly cracked in her query, while eyeing her husband closely, hoping to catch any minute detail she might've missed earlier when she'd been sobbing with her eyes closed. 

Instead, his smile stayed etched on his face as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her swelling belly, the warmth of the gesture spread throughout her as she watched him slowly rise up to his feet. Tipping her chin to look up to him, he gently wiped her tears, "it's not funny per se …but it is amusing…" 

She'd glared at him just slightly.

And he chuckled as he amended his sentence, "you're not going mad, sweet girl. Helaena had moments like this as well. I'm sure Baela did too." 

So he says…but for some reason while Rhaena could remember her sister being irritable…she was sure it was not this irritable. 

This was surely different.

Maybe …or maybe her mind was just being selective now that she was experiencing it for herself. 

"Well…either way…what am I meant to do? I can't sit and do nothing, I need to keep busy or I'll dwell on things," she pouted, leaning her head against his stomach. She knew exactly which type of things she'd begin to dwell on, and she was still far too frightened to let those fears seep into her fully.

Soon it would become unavoidable. 

But until then, she'd soak in her husband's reassurance. For, Aemond hadn't hesitated to rub soothing circles along her back. 

As if he was thinking deeply or just as equally relishing in their quiet moment here before he'd have to leave her for the day so that they could both complete their duties. 

"I maintain that hearings would be far too stressful if not emotionally taxing on you," he sighed softly, leaning down, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, "but the rest is simple enough. Sit through as much work as you wish to, and when you're tired, leave the rest to me or your Wardeness, she is capable of temporarily covering your position. If the Lord Celtigar's perfume offends you, I'll order that he change it. If all you want is salty foods, then that's what you'll have. And if next week you only wish to eat lemons or honeycombs…I will ensure that you have as many and as much as you could want for." 

At that she gazed up at him properly, somehow still in awe with the extents he'd go to for her when it mattered. 

Rhaena never doubted that she'd married the right man…but little moments like these certainly cemented the fact that she had, for her. 

"Avy jorrāelan," I love you, Rhaena sniffled as she smiled up at him. 

"Sȳz," good , Aemond smirked, leaning himself down enough to kiss her sweetly, "avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes," I love you, my dragoness. 

☾

The problem with having a lack of hearings filtered within her daily schedule...was that it made the day go by incredibly fast. 

Planning for the harvest festival and the harvest feast, settling petitions and settlements. Sure, it used up the majority of her day, but by late afternoon, Rhaena had collectively managed to power through all of her duties. Now she sat lazing in the gardens, her favourite place to be in her in-between lulls of the day.

For all this free-time granted to her only gave Rhaena a great deal of time to think about the things moving and going on in her life. 

With the Harvest Festival only two days away, it was customary to have the celebration in the capital, in King's Landing at the Red Keep. But it was also entirely customary for the ruling Prince of Dragonstone to host festivities on the island. For the townspeople here, of both Dracaena and Tegun Skrykos, would never make the voyage to King's Landing. 

For all the towns and cities across the realm, many Lords who did not frequent the capital or Dragonstone at this time, saw fit to host their own fetes and festivals. 

There was to be a grand feast on the day of, when the moon aligned with the sun in the night... creating a bloody red, orange-like glow upon the great harvest moon.

To the beliefs of the Flames, this was meant to be an incredibly powerful time of year for the Fourteen Flames. The Gods energy surged, the stars grew closer in the night, as if the Gods had filtered down onto the ground of their children...now waiting and ready to bless and bear witness. 

Many towns folk and commoners who still believed in the Gods of old would make their pilgrimages to the sacred Temple of Elaena. This pilgrimage was widely inclusive, people travelled a long way to visit, pray and make sacrifices at this temple. People sailed in from Braavos, Lorath, Norvos, Qohor, Pentos, Myr, Tyrosh and Lys. 

The Temple of Elaena being one of the first Valyrian temples created in Westeros after Great Valyria burned . 

There was meant to be another. 

The Hall of Daenys . 

Supposedly it existed beneath Dragonstone, within the volcanic rock, beneath the castle. Rhaena's father had spent many years looking and searching for it, but in the ten years they'd lived here as a family...Daemon had never found it. 

One day...Rhaena hoped, perhaps she and Aemond might uncover it's whereabouts, before they declare it to simply be a myth or a tale.

In either case, the Hall of Daenys would not have been a temple open to the public. Most likely it was a truly holy, sacred temple for the Targaryen family only. 

While the Temple of Elaena was open to all who believed. The Gods would recognize anyone whose blood hailed from old Valyria. This was a time of year when the Gods were most accepting of prayers, it was why there must be a great sacrifice. In the days of old, a blessed individual would be free to offer themselves as a human sacrifice, to be given to the Gods along with a horrid despicable criminal. 

A sacrifice willingly given and a sacrifice forcibly taken. 

It was the duality of Old Valyria. 

Such violence could not be justified now. 

Though in the cases of horrid despicable criminals who were already sentenced to death...their deaths could be made as offerings to the Gods. Along with offering livestock.  

On the day of the harvest moon, things will be different, the pilgrimages cease the day before. For on the true harvest moon, the temple shall be closed to the public, only open to the royal family. That is when Rhaena and Aemond will make their way to meet with the Fourteen Priestesses, one who serves each of the Fourteen Flames specifically. The sacrifices will be made along with a prick or a cut from both Rhaena and Aemond. 

And then they would be permitted to ask the Gods for whatever they wanted.

In that time, they will bless the harvest. 

And then they will both be able to ask for anything, and Rhaena was sure she knew what they'd both want most of all. 

To ask for the safe and healthy birth of their babe. 

Once their prayers were complete, they'd be free to return to the castle. To ride through the city of Tegun Skrykos, and as Rhaena remembered it from her childhood days. The city would be draped in red and black silks, streams of yellow and gold, with beautiful torches lit, as music claimed the air. People would run through the streets, dancing and singing, screams and laughter. The air would be magnificent, electric. 

She was sure Dracaena would be very much the same way by that time of night. 

Once they'd return to the castle, the ruling Prince or Princess of Dragonstone would mount their dragons and fly into the night sky. Let their bonded beasts breathe bright flames, illuminating the darkness, a glorious spectacle for their subjects, while also showing the might and the power of house Targaryen. 

That part of the evening was not a must, it was as much a spectacle as it was anything else. 

But there were four festivals of this nature, the Blooming Harvest Festival for the spring moons, which took place during the third moon of the year. The Summer Nights festivals during the hot summer moons, which took place during the sixth moon of the year. The harvest festival for the chilling of autumn, which took place now, during the ninth moon of the year. And finally, the ice winter festivals for the cool moons, which took place during the twelfth and final moon of the year. 

Although the harvest festival would always reign supreme in Rhaena's mind, it had always been her favourite celebration. 

"Princess?" The voice was instantly recognizable as that of Lady Lelia Lannister, one of her key Ladies-in-waiting. She'd quietly interrupted Rhaena's peaceful thoughts, by now Rhaena had taken to laying out on a soft quilt upon the smooth grassy knoll of the eastern gardens. The rain had truly subsided, and the weather was not too cool or too warm, perfect for sitting...or laying outside. 

The sun had finally burst through, warming Rhaena's skin and body. In the clean fresh air, with the sea breeze that rose up flowed along the garden's edge. 

What a peaceful tranquil place, only Dragonstone's gardens could give such an aura. 

Rhaena didn't peek her eyes open just yet, assuming that if Lady Lelia had come to join her, then most likely, her three other Ladies-in-waiting must have done so as well. 

Lady Lelia was much like an elder sister, at the age of five and twenty, she was eldest of Rhaena's Ladies as well as being the eldest daughter of Lord Jason Lannister and his wife the Lady Johanna Lannister. 

She was a beauty, in the conventional sense and all, she was the sort of Lady any man with eyes would want for... barring they could not have a Targaryen Princess. With pale ivory skin, long wispy bright blonde hair, sky-blue eyes that would normally would have hypnotized the strongest of men with a playful almost flirty smile always gracing her lips. Tall, radiant and slimly curved. All this and yet...she could not seem to marry. 

She had the terrible misfortune of becoming a widow at the age of twenty when her husband, a respectable if not still inconsequential knight, died of sudden causes . It's been long since rumoured that she apparently murdered the man, with poison or black magic. It had earned her the moniker "The Black Widow Lioness" . 

Even though ever since she'd become Rhaena's Lady-in-waiting, the truth of the matter was that her husband only choked on his morning breakfast, eggs and dry toast. It had made all of the girls laugh when she told them. But it seemed her parents never cared to announce that fact, they failed her by letting the wrong rumours spread, and now no matter how many horrible matches they tried to set up for her...Lord or knight, they were always far too apprehensive to trust her. 

To wed her. 

Lord and Lady Lannister had all by begged Rhaena take their most beautiful daughter into her court before she was labeled a true "spinster" . Their hope was that if their daughter could gain Rhaena's own favour, along with the royal family on the whole...then maybe she'd be lucky enough to find a good match. 

Truthfully the Lannisters had gone to Baela first, and there, Rhaena's sister had no problem choosing to spite the Lord Lannister for his plots of near betrayal and near treason. 

Rhaena on the other hand, might have wanted to spite Jason Lannister...but once again, in the most unlikely of people, she found Lady Lelia to be a kindred spirit of sorts, and accepted her into Dragonstone. 

"Lelia, I know what you intend to ask me, and so I shall answer before you ask it. I am well," Rhaena sighed wistfully, because she was fine. She wasn't uncomfortable, or hungry, or sore, or in any sort of pain. 

There was an ache within her...but she couldn't name it...so she wouldn't. 

It was in an instant, but she felt a weight join her on the quilt beside her. Laying down soundly with a waft of mildly scented peonies. 

Lady Ellyn Baratheon, another of Rhaena's close and personally chosen Ladies-in-waiting. 

Lady Ellyn Baratheon had been another odd choice, mainly because there was a time when Rhaena's husband was quite close to being forced into a marriage with Ellyn's younger sister, Floris, Lord Borros Baratheon's favourite daughter. When the war was avoided, he'd asked Rhaena to allow Floris a spot in her court, as one of her Ladies-in-waiting.

Rhaena... might have blamed her hormones at the time, because just hearing the name Floris had enraged her. She knew it wasn't the girl's fault, but even so they idea of having Aemond's "almost wife" here in the castle made her jealous, annoyed, and quite irritated above all else. Besides it all, the girl was only four and ten, what need did Rhaena have for a companion so young. 

Or so she reasoned with herself. 

Aemond could have cared less for allowing either a Lannister or a Baratheon to be a part of their court, much less as Rhaena's personal own Ladies. But he reasoned the choice was hers, and so Rhaena opted for the cynical, sarcastic, articulate elder sister, Ellyn Baratheon instead. 

She had no real basis for her choice in this case, politically it would do well to have a Baratheon in her court, Rhaena knew that. 

For a house so rooted in Valryian ancestry, with Lord Borros' own great-ancestor having been the great Lord Orys Baratheon, while his grandmother had been Lady Alyssa Velaryon. 

It was obvious that it would benefit Rhaenyra's reign to keep this fickle Baratheon Lord in good spirits. 

But that never meant bowing to his demands entirely, he was only a Lord. Not a member of the royal household, so Rhaena chose who she wanted. 

And in the end her choice had been the right one, Lady Ellyn was an interesting woman. One and twenty years of age, she was an often overlooked third daughter. 

But as far as Rhaena was concerned, Ellyn was every bit as lovely as Floris was, maybe even more so due to the way her faint Valryian genes had struck her so. Her eyes may have been a remarkably common grey shade, but her chestnut brown hair was streaked with pale Valryian silver strands. Starting from the roots, it gave her a most interesting appearance. Her pale olive-toned skin glowed more than her sisters, and her face held such lovely regal features. She was about Rhaena's own height, only slightly more toned, as Ellyn was an avid horse rider. 

"Princess, if the lack of attending hearings bothers you so, why not ask the Prince to reconsider?" Lady Ellyn softly nudged Rhaena's arm, playfully begging her to engage with them. The girls must've been greatly worried in order to do so. 

"Exactly!" Lady Victaria chimed in, kneeling down on the other side of Rhaena's quilt, "Prince Aemond treats you as if you were a moon Goddess herself, I know I've not seen another man more in love with his wife...save for your father, the King with the Queen. Bat your lashes a bit and the Prince shall be putty in your hands. No one else could command him so," 

Lady Victaria Greyjoy, a girl of twenty years of age. She might've been Rhaena's favourite amongst her new companions, probably because she always had the nerve to just say whatever it was she was thinking. She reminded Rhaena of her sister, Baela, at the best of times.

Victaria was Dalton Greyjoy's younger sister, rumoured to be his bastard sister, but the claims were never proven to be true. Their father, Lord Greyjoy, and subsequently Dalton himself, had always claimed her to be legitimate...and so she was. Although, like Rhaena's own brown-haired brothers, it was Victaria's features that gave way to suspicion. Deep and dark nearly ruby red auburn curls, with peachy nearly deep beige skin, plush shapely lips and a structured rounded nose. She was a toned yet curvy girl, with an incredibly narrow waistline and wide hips, thicker thighs and a full chest...she, alongside Lady Lelia were two Ladies Rhaena was certain would find husbands soon enough.

But all the same, her features spoke of the possibility of having a Dornish mother...or possibly from another Free City.

A speculation Rhaena would never voice, for she knew how it was to have people constantly guess and whisper about one's parentage. She'd watched it happen to Jace, Luke and Joff whenever they were not in the presence of just family, especially once they had returned to King's Landing. Rhaena would never subject Victaria to such ridicule. 

Instead, she was happy to welcome such a bright outspoken girl to her court, Aemond had not been as enthused when Dalton arrived with his sister...but Rhaena was able to curb that conversation in her favour

"Maybe so, Victaria," Rhaena giggled lightly at the choice of words the Greyjoy girl had chosen to go with, "but even my Princely husband has his limits. Besides, I've already attempted to have him reconsider. And by it all now... I've come to think he may have been right in his original decision. I'm far too emotional to sit and preside over weighted hearings such as those. To remain impartial and calm...it is impossible with this babe inside of me." 

Saying the words, it weighed on her chest all the same to admit that she had to forfeit this part of her duties due to the little one within her. 

But all the same, she found herself fondly gazing down at her rounded belly, softly caressing the curve, as if she thought her words too harsh and wished to apologize to her unborn babe. It wasn't her child's fault...not really. 

"Then there must be something else we can do? Find another way to fill your time and cheer you, Princess," Lady Kyra quietly added, she hadn't moved from her seat on white stone bench that faced the gardens. But she had placed her novel down beside her, her eyes wide with concern. 

Lady Kyra Tarly was the youngest amongst them, only recently turned six and ten, she was a rather neglected fourth born daughter. Supposedly deemed "unattractive and dumpy" by her parents, solely due to her rather plump curvier body shape. She was a quiet, awkward, bookish girl who did not exude the appearance of "dainty sophistication" as most noblewomen were meant to. But these were not faults in Rhaena's eyes, when Kyra’s mother, the former Lady Tarly, brought her four daughters to Dragonstone in hopes that Rhaena would choose her one of her elder, supposedly more conventionally handsome daughters. 

Rhaena sought to do the opposite. 

She had no need for Ladies who'd discuss vapid empty topics with her, Rhaena dealt with enough of those women regularly. No she wanted companions, women she could truly hold personal if not interesting conversations with, women she could grow to trust and count as true confidants. 

And Lady Kyra held such a personality in Rhaena's eyes.

Besides it all, Rhaena supposed there was something soft and sweet about the girl that made Rhaena want to protect her. She hadn't liked the way Kyra's elder sisters or mother spoke to her, berated her. Her soft featured face, with faint reddish freckles splattered across rosy beige skin. She had big pale green eyes and rather unruly pale copper red curls. 

She felt like a little sister, adorable, soft and caring, so of course Rhaena was happy to take her in...just her though, the other three Tarly daughters could turn elsewhere for positions in court. 

"Well, dear Kyra, I am all ears to any suggestions you may have, any of you, really," Rhaena smiled, settling herself back against Ellyn. 

She could hear soft hums, followed by the tranquil silence of the gardens. Birds fluttering about through the flower beds and hedge bushes. 

It was clear, none of these girls had an idea between them.

It wouldn't really matter, as in the end, she wouldn't actually need their help. Her mind had been plaguing her with the same vague thought all day long now. Ever since her slight meltdown at breakfast, the feeling had only grown more intense. With each passing hour, it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore. 

Her body hungered for her dragon Prince. 

It was such an odd thing, one Rhaena had noticed gradually. The stark differences...they seemed to be ever-changing. The way Rhaena hungered for her husband now as opposed to before. When they'd been engaged, when he was only her betrothed , sex had been new and exciting, all-consuming and enriching. She wanted him as often as her body would allow her to, in every possible location they could steal away to. 

Then once they were wed, she thought she'd grasped a handle on it, a happy medium, where as ravenous as she may have felt for her husband. There was a level of control... slight...level of control. To be honest they were still sneaking around corners and abandoned hallways, secret passages and tunnels just to spend a moment pleasing one another. 

But this was different now. 

Last moon had unlocked something within, something volatile and urging. As if there was no way of fully satisfying the beast within her that craved his attention and his body. A moon ago, she'd all but stormed into a settlement hearing, dismissed everyone else and lowered herself to her knees for him. He might've questioned her for only a moment, before he leaned back and allowed her to undo his breeches. Desperate to taste him then, she'd let her tongue run along the length of him before she happily took his thick member into the heat of her mouth. 

She'd been sated then. 

But it wasn't the last time she returned to him that day. 

Or that week...or moon. 

Rhaena thought she might have needed to reign these feelings in, surely it couldn't have been healthy to seek so much... lovemaking ...from one's husband. 

And she would've kept a better handle on things today. 

But even now, here on the ground in the gardens, she couldn't help but think of his silky hair yet again. The arousing way his adams apple drew her in, the ghosting feel of his lips trailing down her throat. She wanted to feel his hands roaming her body, her breasts, her bottom. She wanted to feel the heat of his breath on her neck and the hard wanting of his cock. She wanted to feel him inside of her, stretching her deeply, fucking her soundly.

Rhaena didn't care where they did it or who saw them, heard them. Whether they managed to return to their chambers, for simply fucked in the dining hall... maybe even the council room...one of the throne rooms.

She cared not, so long as he wasn't gentle. 

He'd been sweet and loving this morning in bed, and she'd loved it then. But now she was desperate and hungry for him, she couldn't handle his usual teasing or his recent displays of wholesome lovemaking. 

She'd climb atop him as he sat the throne if she must. For Rhaena was aching, a needy heat pooling in her lower regions. She needed him to please her as only he could. 

Her mind could picture him so clearly, she knew where he'd be, listening to hearings in the eastern throne room...he wasn't far. One flight of stairs and a few steps and she'd be with him. 

And if she knew her husband, as much as he meant to shield her from anything that might stress her, he didn't much enjoy listening to people plead their cases to him. If it was up to him he'd simply execute the vast majority of people who vexed him. 

So by now he'd be in want of a distraction...one she was sure he'd welcome since it was coming from his wife. 

This was it, this was how she'd spend her time today. 

She'd go to him. 

And if anything, this was his fault to begin with.  

He'd been the one to plant this babe within her. And now because of it, she wanted for things at such an extreme rate. 

Besides, he'd also all but told her this morning that he planned to indulge her. Whatever she felt, whatever upset her would be banished and whatever she craved for would be fulfilled. Rhaena could reason such things would not just stop with food cravings and Lords' colognes.

As Rhaena continued to caress her belly, the soft motions only solidified her feelings. Surely it felt just a tad bit odd vividly imagining scenarios in which her husband might fuck her roughly out here in the gardens with her Ladies. 

But what could she do? At this very moment she craved her husband and nothing or no one else would do in his place. 

If she could, she'd want Aemond to lay here with her, to hold her...to caress her...to touch her...wreck her right here, right now. 

As opposed to this morning, where Rhaena could remember just how sweet and warm their lovemaking had felt. She wasn't sure if she wanted that exact feeling right at this moment, but she wanted him in some sort of capacity. 

So, abruptly, Rhaena began to push herself up and off of her quilt. She wouldn't wait any longer, she'd take what she wanted. It was what dragons did best, and Rhaena was a dragon in her own right. So she let her present maid, Allyria, who'd joined her outside, help her to her feet. Followed by her four personal guards, Rhaena made her way back towards the castle. Without really glancing back at her Ladies, Rhaena called back, "it is fine if you don't come up with anything, I think I shall just go and see my husband." 

"Shall you need backup? Moral support of a kind?" Lady Kyra innocently responded. 

Rhaena held back her own laughter at the thought of her Ladies rushing behind her, following her all the way only to realize their Princess wished to engage in very private explicit activities with her husband. She smiled warmly at her young Lady Kyra's innocence. 

And it seemed she wasn't the only one who found it amusing, as Rhaena made her way towards the castle, she could hear the other three girls giggling as Lady Lelia's delighted voice replied, "oh sweet one, I don't think she'll want any help with this particular encounter." 

It had made Rhaena's smile widen, as it seemed all of the older Ladies knew exactly what Rhaena was after, other than poor Kyra. 

The look of determination must have been a clear one. 

From the moment Rhaena stepped into the castle, nobles and servants made way for her to reach her destination expeditiously. Gliding through the exquisite stoney halls, the floors smooth and marbled as were many of the surfaces here on Dragonstone. The afternoon sun poured in through the many high placed massive arched windows. 

Draping the castle with a crisp classic yet ethereal White glow. 

In formation, Rhaena's four guards Ser Garin, Ser Drako, Ser Miklaz and Ser Moredo walked with her through the halls. She'd let Allyria return to whatever task she saw fit to continue or enjoy some free time for the moment. 

Ser Miklaz Rhonoq was a Myrish knight, with faintly visible Valyrian features and possibly Summer Islander ancestry as well. With dusky Blondish/pale brown curls, pale-cinnamon brown skin and pale blue eyes. He was stoic but kind-hearted, handsome yet far more humble about it than Ser Drako. 

While Ser Moredo Sand was a Dornish bastard-born knight, his Valyrian ancestry was far less visible than the others. But he did in fact look quite Tyroshi, nearly sandy-brown complexion, with dusty copper-ish brown hair and green-ish hazel eyes. He remained a quiet dutiful knight, rarely breaking his stoic duty to even just converse freely with his sworn royal charges. 

The eastern throne room was close enough, just up the grand steps, down a couple of turns and straight ahead. 

Close...but not close enough. 

The Eastern throne room was essentially the main throne for the ruling Prince or Princess of Dragonstone, it was where Aemond sat for most of his duties. Whether they be hearings, vital petitions, or larger settlements, this throne room is where this business was to be held. It was where Aegon the Conqueror once sat before he and his sister wives began to plan and plot how they'd conquer the whole of Westeros. The room was crafted with black stone, for the walls, the floors and the ceiling, the throne itself seemingly carved directly from black obsidian stone. It had the appearance of being melted and formed with dragons' fire,  four pillars spiked, with an oozing melted look to it, it would shimmer in the light...if such light was permitted. 

But this room was made to be dark and intimidating. Foreboding for all who were not of the blood of the dragon. There were eight windows in that room which allowed daylight, but by ceremonial principle, four were to have curtains drawn over them. Allowing for the room to need candle light, to keep the Dragon Lord in control of the emotional state of the room. 

Or so it is to be believed. 

Daylight calms people... daylight invites the idea that one is safe, safe to make claims and voice their opinions. But in the darkness, one might remember to remain humble...to fear the dragon that sits before you. 

Ambience and all aside, Rhaena was certain Aemond Targaryen needed no such help to exude such a feeling to his subjects. 

But she digressed. 

In Rhaena's own case, she essentially had her own throne room as well. The Northern throne room, was as its name suggested, in the Northern part of the castle. Far less dreary than its Eastern counterpart, its eight windows were allowed to be open. Encouraged in fact, to illuminate the white stoned room, a bright encouraging environment. The throne in that room mimicked the melting stone appearance of the Eastern one, only it was glossier with white marbling stone, it shimmered with iridescent beauty when any natural light shone against it. 

Once belonging to Rhaenys the Conqueror, she was the brightest, the most vivid in her beauty in comparison to her two other trueborn siblings. And so her throne room was meant to be a place where subjects could freely voice their concerns and opinions to the lovely counterpart of their Dragonlord. For Rhaena's own tastes, she might have added a great many green plants and boldly colourful flowers to the decor of the room. Adding colour and life to the place she was meant to think of as her daily setting. 

Harkening back to the days in which Rhaena would fill her own chambers with plants and floral vines, an extension of her personality that always made her feel at home no matter the place. 

There was also a third throne room...the Western throne room, in the western wing of the castle. It had once belonged to Visenya the Conqueror, but Rhaena had yet to have need for it. So she hadn't ventured to it as of yet, though she was sure Aemond must have already by now. Much like Aegon's former throne...she imagined the room to be a dark foreboding place...possibly far more blood red than dark and black. 

But who was to say. 

As Rhaena arrived at the doors of the Eastern throne room, she simply nodded towards the two Knights guarding the doors. 

Familiar choices for their castle wide guards...but as neither were amongst Rhaena's personal six...she couldn't say she'd remembered their names all too well as of yet. 

One knight deigned to speak to her, "you Grace, the Prince Aemond it currently presiding over a matter with Lord Celtigar and-" 

Her eyes lowered and rolled at the robotic regurgitated words the man seemed to think necessary in repeating to her. She already knew what her husband was doing, and was largely unsurprised with the fact that his hearing should be with the young Lord Celtigar. 

As per Dragonstone's court, they were not the Capital, whereas in King's Landing, the Red Keep may host the direct Lord and Lady of each house should they need to. Here in Dragonstone, they were hosts to direct heirs of a great few houses, soon-to-be young Lords and Ladies. From House Celtigar, Rogare, Darry, Vypren, Rowan and Vance. These Lords were insurance policies, direct lines to their Lord fathers' who could and would communicate with their heirs to make deals and alliances with the crown directly when they themselves could not make the journey. 

This idea went just as well with the many Valyrian based Free Cities. Although, as many of those cities had monarchies of their own, or elected officials, instead of heirs...they sent dignitaries. So Dragonstone played host to dignitaries from Lys, Volantis, Tyrosh, Pentos, Qohor, Norvos and Lorath. 

Hence the rather boisterous court Dragonstone held within its walls. 

In the case of House Celtigar, they'd been stalling on a rather important response to which Aemond was indeed tired of waiting for. 

Even through the closed heavy oak doors, Rhaena could hear the temperature rising from within the throne room. 

"For fucksake, Clement, I tire of your rambling! That old fuck of a grouchy father you have has managed to evade decisions long enough. Send a raven, sail to him if you must, grab him by the shoulders and get a fucking clear answer from the man. Before I think to send a 'message' of my own to him," Aemond's rough voice had seethed something dark by the end, he was making threats once again. 

Oh, by the Gods.

THIS was why Rhaena's presence for hearings such as these were necessary. 

Her husband was one snap away from drawing his sword on the hapless young Lord. 

She could hear the poor man of stammer through a muffled response, "m-my Prince, my father refuses to see reason, n-no matter what word I send to him-" 

"Would he see reason if I sent back his only son to him bit by bit, as severed limbs and pieces all stuffed and crammed into ornamental chest-box," Aemond growled loudly, "or maybe your dear wife would be a better a threat, or your children perhaps-"

OKAY...that was enough. 

He was clearly enraged, and now he was threatening the lives of this one man's entire family. 

With a pointed regal glare that spoke of the superiority and power she held in this castle, she burned her sight down onto the guard that dared to block her entrance. Adding on a sweet little smile as she said, "now, shall we make this easy, open this door. Before the head of Lord Celtigar is resting on your conscious. For I assure you, my parents, the Queen and King of Westeros, will not be pleased if you stood in my way when I could've just as easily stopped this. It would call for a very easy, very swift execution for you my good Ser."

She couldn't have been sure if it was her own glare that won the knight over, or if possibly the four knights behind her had joined in on her intimidation tactic. But either way, both guarding knights opened the doors for her in one synchronized motion, letting her glide inside with pristine grace considering the ravenous state her body was in just moments prior. 

Once inside, it was just as she feared, Lord Clement Celtigar stepping back apprehensively with his own valet and representatives from House Celtigar. All critically and fearfully watching as Aemond rose from his seat in a flash, drawing his dark red gleaming sword from its sheath. 

"I'm certain Blood Moon thirsts for noble blood," he snarled cruelly as he advanced upon the unprepared Lord, Clement Celtigar's own sword still sheathed and untouched. 

"Konir sagon mirre, valzȳrys, " that is enough, husband, Rhaena calmly stated as she fearlessly walker closer to the unfolding tension filled room, "lo ao ossēnagon zirȳla, īlon iēdrosa kessa daor emagon se udligon jaeli," If you kill him, we still will not have the answer we want. 

It was best to approach her irate dragon with a calm tone, speaking with that calm tone in Valyrian also helped to snap him out of his red vision just as quickly. She'd seen him in far worse states than this, it was nothing she could not handle. 

Even if her guarding knights seemed ready and willing to draw their swords to protect her should they need to. 

But she only glanced back at them, smiled sweetly with a gentle nod, to show them she was fine and did not need their assistance. 

Not here, not for this, and certainly not for her husband. 

She may not have had a true bonded dragon...but that didn't mean that she did not understand how to calm and tame the most wild amongst them. 

Rhaena watched as Aemond reluctantly halted, his shoulders rising and lowering, his heavy intakes with each breath he took. 

But his sword was still drawn, so unpredictability was still a possibility. She'd have to secure Lord Celtigar's safety in this moment with something more concrete. 

"Gīda ñuha zaldrīzes," calm my dragon , Rhaena softly spoke, sweetening her tone as she slowly walked towards him, acting as if there was no one else in the throne room, "rughagon zȳhon ānogar kessa daor mazverdagon se uēpa āeksio celtigar paktot lēda se pāletilla," spilling his blood will not make the old Lord Celtigar side with the crown.

Finally she watched as he growled, sighing heavily as he sheathed his sword again. Grinding his teeth as he took viciously precise steps back to his throne, with that Rhaena subtly ignored the soft whispers of gratitude Lord Celtigar and his team whispered to her. Instead she took her seat beside him, an ornate red with black floral throne chair that existed solely for their shared hearings. 

Aemond hadn't met her eye, not from the moment she walked in …and not even now. But he had clearly heard her, he'd instantly stopped and listened to her. He was just opting to be grumpy and petty about it all because she hadn't allowed him to kill the Lord. 

Rhaena could see Aemond's left foot vigorously tapping as he waited...and for a moment, Rhaena wondered what he was waiting for. 

But then it dawned on her, she'd essentially waltzed in and stolen the breath of the room, leaking all of the tension out and away. Aemond had no interest in this situation anymore, so much so, he didn't even care to end it properly. 

So Rhaena would, with a light sigh, she looked over directly towards the Lord, "Lord Celtigar," she started with a warm smile, grabbing his attention to solely focus on her, "my husband, Prince Aemond is correct. In that, you should reach out to your father once more. At your own digression, you may decide what would be a more efficient method, whether another raven would suffice or if you yourself must greet him in person. But this matter must be settled before the next moon ends. The crown needs to know if House Celtigar intends to stand with them, and by extension House Targaryen in this endeavor with the Stepstones." 

Breathing soundly, she watched as Lord Celtigar breathed a sigh of relief, dealing with the calm approach of the dragon Princess as opposed to the hostile nature of the Lording dragon Prince. 

With a bow he quickly replied, "yes of course, Princess...Prince. Ravens' have not sufficed, so it is probably best that I make the journey personally. I know how important securing and solidifying the Stepstones is to her and his Majesty." 

"Good, make your preparations, and inform us of the specifics of this trip," Rhaena gave a simple nod, "you are now dismissed." 

Rhaena patiently waited for Lord and his posse to exit the throne room, only truly breathing once they had left the room vacant with only servants and guards. 

"Nyke gōntan daor jorrāelagon ao naejot interfere, ēdan ziry gō control," I did not need you to interfere, I had it under control, Aemond finally grumbled after a beat of silence. 

Rhaena huffed a laugh at that statement, pulling herself up to her feet and stepping right in front of him. She placed her hands directly onto his wrists, pressing them down on the arm rests of the stone throne, leaning over him just enough to force his attention.

For his gaze could not remain on the floor forever. 

The moment his dark indigo eye locked onto her pale violet eyes, she felt a lovely heated shiver run through her body. There was something so dark and dangerous in his eye, inviting a threat…a command…a wanting of sorts. 

She couldn't claim to be sure of what this expression on his face truly read to be, but she was happy to risk the outcome. 

"Ao ivestretan nyke īlen se hakotan mēre, se yet, ao jeldan naejot gūrogon ānogar sīr nāqopsir ," you told me I was the emotional one, and yet, you wished to draw blood so easily, Rhaena breathed, a soft alluring sound wrapped itself around the pronunciation of each Valyrian word. 

From that his only response formed itself as a devious smirk that grew on his lips, an expression that only worked to entice her further. 

"Mmm, udligon nyke bisa," mmm, answer me this, his voice sounded so velvety smooth, nearly enchanting her to abandon all thought of decorum and-, "skoros emagon ao māzigon syt, byka ābrazȳrys?" what have you come for, little wife?

That alone might have been enough- 

But in that moment, Aemond hadn't waited for her response. With a swift sleight of hand trick, he'd managed to pull his wrists free whilst grabbing ahold of hers. Pulling her closer, inviting her to climb atop him. And as her lust for him began to cloud her mind once again, she allowed it. From the moment he released her wrists in favour of securing her waist in his hands. Rhaena made the comfortable choice to rest her hands upon his broad shoulders, her knees slipping into the space around his hips, straddling him truly before she seated herself down atop his lap.

Once she was seated upon his warm sturdy thighs she felt her blood tingle and shiver, her heart hammering soundly at a speed only he caused within her. 

"Nyke missed ñuha zaldrīzes iksis mirre," I missed my dragon is all, Rhaena softly hummed, pressing herself closer, finally drowning in that calming clean citrusy scent of his. Mixed with that cedarwood undertone that made her head feel light and dizzy, she found her arms wrapping tighter around him. Her fingers sweetly combing the smooth length of his hair as her nose reached and nuzzled against his. 

She could feel his previous hostility towards Lord Celtigar slowly dissipate and fade, however tense his body might've been moments ago, it was now open and inviting her to him. 

"Kessa nyke remedy bona pār," shall I remedy that then, were the last words he'd said before his lips claimed hers. It was as if she were swallowing flames, the instant heat that spread from her lips, down her throat and coursed its way through her entire body. The shivering satisfaction of feeling his tongue entangle with hers, tasting every last part of the molten heat of his mouth. She let herself melt against him, letting the dream-like feel of his large hands roaming her hips, her waist, her lower back and then round her bottom. 

So comfortably free of formality, both of them knowing exactly who they belonged to, who had claimed them, forever and always. 

In the melting frenzy of her wanting, Rhaena's hips had already begun to slowly grind themselves against his, already feeling the peaked hard rod of his cock buried within his breeches. 

And she knew she was making it worse for him, purposely teasing him with what she herself was already in desperate need to have. In that desperation, she held him tighter, kissed him harder…rougher, her teeth grazing his lips as she all but bit and possessed him. She was moaning so sweetly for him, she'd completely forgotten about any and every servant or guard who might've still been present in the throne room.   

For, indeed the word, ravenous , was most certainly the best word to describe her need at the moment. 

All the while, it seemed Aemond had happily embraced this vigor of hers. Pulling her just as tightly against him, smiling and chuckling as he groaned against her, "you should have told me you were starving for me, I would have come to you sooner." 

"I was just trying to put it off…" she panted heavily, kissing him soundly just as quickly. 

As he lifted her closer, his grip purposely squeezing and gliding along her bottom, he grinned, "never put me off, I'd rather this sort of distraction over anything else." 

Such a simple response had made her body electrify in an instant, making her already soaked cunt quiver at the sound of her husband's demand. Her hips only rolled more intensely against him, her desperation and want for him only growing, burning brighter. 

Gods, how she wanted him…she wanted him inside of her that very instant. 

She couldn't say what it was about this dimly lit setting that had only added to her arousal. A room that was meant to convey fear and foreboding…now only made her want to ride her husband till completion. 

And she would.  

Although it seemed they couldn't have pulled apart for the decency of relieving their staff, and oddly enough, Rhaena might not have cared to do so at that moment either. The quiet audience that probably wished to exit but were simultaneously compelled to stay, unsure of what their next move could possibly be for so long as they didn't infuriate their Targaryen Lord and Lady they would be fine. 

They would be safe. 

But that also meant no one could truly interrupt them either. 

Whatever shared looks and glances they may have been sharing, throats clearing in an attempt to draw either Rhaena or Aemond's attention long enough for them to be dismissed…all went unheard and unseen. 

For both Rhaena and her dragon were far too occupied with one another to care for anything or anyone else. 

With those sets of multiple eyes somewhat made to witness them, it all made Rhaena's body feel like it was transcending, so much so that she'd barely missed a beat when her fingers nimbly began to unlace Aemond's breeches. Pulling his hard cock free to the sound of a raspy groan from her husband, she wasted no time shuffling beneath her skirts, shifting her underclothes just enough to guide his thick throbbing member to her drenched opening. 

She'd felt the deep sultry whine that bubbled in the recesses of her throat before it threatened to burst out and echo into the throne room. Before the entire sound could resonate, she'd managed to catch Aemond's lips. Allowing him to swallow the sound, just as she swallowed his reverberating moan as she sank down onto his length. 

"Oh my Gods," Rhaena had whimpered against him, the words had simply slipped away from her and there was no returning them. 

Only matched by Aemond's own smirk at her sentiments, "fuck, you were already so wet for me…how long have you been missing me," 

"Since breakfast-" she moaned just as he thrusted his cock deep within her, stretching her cunt for his own thick size to snugly occupy. 

It was then that the doors to the throne room had been opened, it sounded so faint, so way off in the distance. But by the resounding sigh of recognition, she could just barely comprehend that it must've been Maester Varion. A man who'd had the apparent displeasure of catching Rhaena and Aemond in the act several times before. 

He never spoke of it afterwards, never acted the slightest bit surprised or cross when he came face to face with their actions. 

He only ever did their staff the courtesy of dismissing them from the room. Just as he did now, he must've quickly and quietly motioned for all, including Rhaena's and Aemond's personal guards, to leave the room.

Rhaena only knew it to be true, once her growing pleasure rose to an unmatched peak, the fire stoked within her, her blood trilling and singing to the synchronized bliss of fucking ones dragon mate. She'd pulled her lips away from his, enough to quickly glance around the room before letting her hands grip into his hair as she pulled tightly. Relishing the strangled husky groans and wincing that fell from Aemond's lips.  

"I don't care, whenever you feel you need me…whenever you wish for me to take you… please you…fuck you senseless," he panted as his forehead rested against hers, "you find me…send for me…and I will come."

God's he looked like absolute perfection in this golden light. The orange candlelight paired with the faint daylight that peered through the windows. His striking curvilinear features, on display just for her. 

Oh how she tried to focus on his words, the most important being, if she wanted him then he'd come to her . 

So she'd keep that in mind. 

But for now, she purposely fought the urge to tuck her face in the crook of his neck, no she wished to see him when she came. Each perfectly timed stroke made her feel drunk and frazzled, her own movements had become erratic, burning with the speed in which her hips snapped against his. In her heat for him, she'd snatched his leather patch off. They were all alone now and she wanted to see everything, moaning simply because she'd realized he hadn't worn his sapphire today. The sweet bliss of truly seeing the real him at this very moment, when she was already so close. 

"Harder, ñuha dōna zaldrīzes ," my sweet dragon , Rhaena begged in a mixture of languages, her back already arching so nicely for him in his hold, "I need you to hurt me," 

It was all the command he needed, as his hand reached under her skirts solely so he could feel the heated smooth skin of her bare thighs and hips. Gripping violently hard into her skin, with the clear intention to bruise her, to give his hand a rougher purchase on her body. While his other hand under her arm and around to the back of her neck, squeezing her tightly, holding her rigidly. She barely winced at the recognizable sweet ache, only focusing on the delicious pleasure it gave way to as he thrusted into her even harder…deeper. 

"Qogralbar, dōna riña," fuck, sweet girl, Aemond groaned roughly as he thrusted so deeply into her that her cunt clenched tightly around his cock, "ñuha gevie byka ābrazȳrys," my beautiful little wife. 

Gods…how she loved him. 

He had to know how the sound of his voice…how his gravelly Valyrian seeped into her skin and roused her entire body. 

So much so that Rhaena couldn't even bear to think of a response, her mind had long since melted and turned to mush. 

She couldn't control her body anymore, as she threw her head, arching back as she writhed viciously. It made her own grip tighten in his hair, as one of her hands gripped so hard against the cotton silk of the shirt beneath his doublet, against his shoulder where she let her nails dig in and bury themselves against his skin. By then Aemond had leaned down over by her neck, his teeth grazing and the soft tender skin of her throat, probably breaking the skin if only slightly as he soothed the burn with his tongue. 

It was in that space, the place between immense pleasure and pain, where Rhaena felt that electric fire build and build until it peaked over a near ethereal horizon. 

In the dark bliss of perfection, she felt her dragon merely thrust twice more before he joined her in groaning aloud their shared pleasure…and now satisfaction. 

As he spilled his heated seed within her, Rhaena felt her body go limp as she collapsed against him. Resting her head on his shoulder as her chest heaved with every deep panting breath she took. A sense of calm clarity washed over her as she loosened her grip in his hair, lowering her hand to caress his chest before she gently raised her hand up to cup his scarred cheek. Nuzzling her nose against his neck, breathing in that savory citrusy spiced cedarwood scent of his that both calmed her and aroused her, as she let her thumb trace over the scar that travelled down his left cheek. 

"I never thought a throne room would lend itself to such a pleasure," Rhaena breathed, smiling softly, content in the bliss of this quiet moment, "we should convene here more often." 

Aemond had chuckled warmly and she soaked in the lovely sound, "I'm certain I've invited you to use this room before," 

"Surely not," she playfully disagreed. 

"Definitely have…but it matters not. Should I be trapped here again," he grinned, kissing the crown of her head with such warmth and love, "then do me the honour of interrupting me… distracting me…" 

Rhaena smiled at that, humming sweetly as she nodded her head, "as you wish, my love."

-

P.S. I hope this was a fun little smutty one!

LOOL I had fun with this one, the idea of Aemond being overprotective but also being right, but also being wrong (because he was not handling things well with Lord Celtigar near the end there).

Expect more of that in the next chapter! The main "issue/conflict" for the next chapter really hinges on them both being as equally right as they are wrong, I think so at least LOOL

I'm also trying to keep track of the kinks I'm checking off as I go, this chapter definitely had horny Preggo Rhaena and a bit of their exhibition kink!

Ch.7 will have a bit of the food kink/whip cream kink as well as a bit of bondage. Ch.8 is where the Lactation kink will finally come into play! As well as an anal scene!!

Shit's ramping uppppppp…and baby #1 is so close to getting here, in ch. 9 as far as my notes are concerned!!

[flockrest]

mun(day) questions / @sentinaels, @vigilantdesert, & @stygicniron

thank you lots for these! ♡ very fun to think about and answer! all under the cut because it's a doozy. i am not a concise person, what can i say :'D

when did you first start writing?

in the roleplaying context, ten years ago ( half of which i took a hiatus for aslfkjsdl )! core memory, no joke, i can still very keenly remember weird details of the day it all started. as a hobby, this started way back before i even hit secondary school! i was not an objectively good writer, but no tween really is. i had lots of fun and all the cringefail phases i've gone through since have helped me get to where i am now in my writing development — i can at least say i'm happy with where i'm at with that! and i'm still having fun! ♡

in what language did you start writing?

online? english....my beloathed. very ironic, i know aslkfjdsl

if your mother tongue is not the language you write now, what caused you to switch languages?

quite honestly for the engagement! then simply because i feel i got better at writing in english than i could in vietnamese — my education for both differed, especially in my adolescent years, and i've practiced literacy in this context more for english than i have for viet.

i am still very insecure about my grasp of english in online spaces though ( my writing process involves a lot of me searching up even the simplest words to ensure their meaning and that they will convey what i want you to feel, i still forget words or mix phrases up — sorry to my dm buddies when this happens btw — and my editing is so time-consuming because i have to often cut things or rephrase them to avoid being redundant ), which is why i have that it's my second language disclaimer alfjslfk

what was the first muse that you’ve written?

my first ever muse was my lovely queen zelda from twilight princess! she saw me through a lot of my roleplaying firsts, honestly. she still holds such a special place in my heart because of all the experiences writing her allowed me to make, as well as all the wonderful people i befriended through her that i still haven't forgotten about to this day!

( i always find myself missing one in particular when the mood hits, because we were years-long mains during what felt like the peak of the zelda rpc prime and she was as close to an exclusive affiliate i'd ever get. i hope you've been doing super well out there, my liege!! if we ever somehow get to writing again, y'all will just not be ready for my unhinged status over her link, and my zelda, and the midzelink we've crafted entire worlds over, and that is a promise aflkjdsj )

do you still write your first muse?

unfortunately, no! i have dipped in and out with her before, but i don't know if i'll ever return to her now when i've got so many others wrangling for my time and energy...i think i would like to if i got the opportunity to regularly write with twilight princess muses again :) zelda was a more character-contained muse, in that i studied less of the world-lore around her and more of her, her dynamics, and her relationships, so activity would be very slow and pretty contingent on level of interest from others aslkfdjf

what caused you to start writing? what was your key point?

okay. don't laugh at me please. i'm pretty sure this is a connecting point for a few of us. but for fanfic purposes, of course asflkjds i started reading fics before i started writing any, and only began doing so because there was such a dearth of the stories that catered specifically to my niche whims and wants that past ray was like "FINE. i'll do it myself"

now, fr, you gotta promise to not laugh at me. the want for a more interactive experience didn't really hit until i discovered tumblr ask blogs, wherein i wanted to have a try at running one myself! then that evolved into more writing than art...then i just leaned into roleplaying wholeheartedly asflkjdf everybody say thank you to artists for inspiring artists!

have you ever written a canon muse that you first thought of ‘meh’ when they appeared in their canon show/movie/book?

not that i can think of, no! i don't tend to pick up muses i don't feel super invested in. if it's meh in the more oh this character SUCKS sense, then i guess. rauru? like i love that funky fellow, or at least huge parts of him that i'll steal from nintendo because man what the fuck were they doing with him, but he seems to be my most polarising muse in terms of audience reception aflksjdla this isn't a dig at anyone for that btw!!

how far do you go with divergencies when it comes to your canon muse?

as far as it'll take for me to be satisfied with them! this ofc differs with every muse, but i try to keep general characterisations unchanged — or at least the parts of them that stand out to me and feel crucial to who my muses are.

e.g. i ignored the entirety of the hidden world when it came to writing toothless from httyd, because its depiction of his behaviour ( and hence, implicated thoughts ) was so extremely Bad Tier, i was flabbergasted that it came from the same writer as httyd2. there was, imo, such a huge gap between the toothless of httyd2 and the toothless of the hidden world in terms of characterisation and character development ( ESPECIALLY with what it did to his bond with hiccup. i'm still infuriated about that ) that i had an entire rewrite where things might've ended the same way, but it would've taken a different road for berk to get there in the works.

that's when canon has disappointed me to the extreme, though aflkdslj i have misgivings about totk, yes, but i doubt you'll be seeing unprompted >2.5k words essays from me regarding my birdies or even rauru ( if only because nintendo didn't give us enough about him to make me feel like they fucked up beyond words ) anytime soon.

with rauru, anyway, it's more of a..."i am construing him differently; you couldn't make him palatable despite clearly wanting to do so, so i'm making him 'palatable' ( in the HE AND HIS FAULTS ARE SO INTERESTING I WANT TO EXPLORE THEM IN A WAY THAT DOESN'T HAVE ME GAGGING sense ); also i think you make him way too important without actually committing to the bit, so i'm gonna give him so many complexes about it" case.

[yellobb]

Op, I hope this is okay, but I was inspired.

Edit: I JUST NOTICED THE SNAKE CRAWLED ONTO AZIRAPHALE SO I HAVE UPDATED ACCORDINGLY

—————

“Angel, just shut up and get in the car!” Crowley shouted, practically throwing the door to the Bentley open and shoving Aziraphale inside before he could protest. He barely spared a glance at the other being that the angel had returned with.

“You can come too, but if you’re not in the car when I get in then I’m leaving without you.”

“I think I’d rather take my chances with you,” Jesus said hurriedly and maneuvered himself into the back seat. He barely got the door shut before Crowley was already speeding through central London.

“Crowley! Be careful! We cannot afford disincorporation right now, my dear boy.”

“I’m not your dear boy,” Crowley snarled.

The car went silent aside from the ever-present sound of Queen.

Under pressure, that brings a building down

Splits a family in two

Puts people on streets

Jesus fidgeted awkwardly with the hem of the button-up Aziraphale had given him.

“Crowley, I know you’re hurting….”

“Aziraphale. We can talk about this now or I can save all our arses and stop bloody Armageddon from happening again!”

Aziraphale bit his lip and furrowed his brows. He’d known Crowley had been miserable since he returned to Heaven, but seeing the tense line of his normally so relaxed shoulders and his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel in person made it feel much more real. He glanced back at Jesus who just shrugged in return.

Aziraphale had thought of thousands of ways to apologize and reassure his demon that he was cherished beyond measure. He’d come up with a carefully crafted speech in the long, endless hours sat alone at his desk. He knew what he wanted to say, and yet…

“I love you.”

The Bentley swerved to avoid a pedestrian and Crowley’s head whipped to the side. “Wot?!”

Aziraphale was a bit mortified that he’d failed so spectacularly in saying what he wanted to say. (Not that he didn’t want to say this too, of course, but he did have tact). (Or, at least, he’d read Pride and Prejudice enough times to know what a lack of it looked like). Nevertheless, he squared his shoulders and tipped his chin up indignantly, meeting Crowley’s gaze through his sunglasses.

“I love you, Crowley, and I’m sorry I left you. I know you don’t fully understand why I did it, but I need you to know that it was not because of you. It was for you. I wanted to try to make Heaven into the place you once believed it to be—the place you deserved. I know I went about it in all the wrong ways, as I tend to. You know how much of an old silly I can be. I absolutely adore you and I promise never to leave you agai— Mmph!”

Aziraphale’s monologue was abruptly cut off by Crowley lunging at him and giving him a bruising kiss. Aziraphale immediately melted with relief, wrapping his arms around the demon and pulling him close. All that was on his mind was just Crowley, Crowley, Crowley.

Crowley abruptly pulled away, one hand still tangled in Aziraphale’s hair. Aziraphale was so dazed that it took him a moment to register what was wrong.

The Bentley was not playing Queen.

Jesus, take the wheel

Take it from my hands

‘Cause I can’t do this on my own

In the heat of the moment, Aziraphale had completely forgotten that Crowley was supposed to be driving. Luckily, it seemed that their other passenger had not.

“Listen, I’m happy for you, but really?” Jesus asked, arching an eyebrow as he kept his eyes firmly on the road. He was halfway out of his seat in the back and clutching the steering wheel.

Aziraphale blushed and felt something wriggle on his cheek. He blinked and reached a hand up to touch it. He felt the wriggling move down his finger

“Oi, shut it! It’s not too late for me to kick you out, you know.”

Jesus’ eyebrow rose even higher and he gestured with his free hand to the steering wheel. “Do you want to take over or would you rather keep making out with the angel you’ve been pining over for at least 2,000 years now?”

Crowley grumbled at that, but his face reddened. Aziraphale couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. He giggled even harder when he realized the wiggling creature had been Crowley’s snake tattoo. It must have migrated to his face while they were kissing. It warmed Aziraphale’s heart like no cup of tea or cocoa ever could.

Don’t stop me now!

I’m having such a good time

I’m having a ball

“Yeah, fine. Whatever. My own car isn’t even on my side anymore.”

“Our.”

“Hm?” Crowley looked back at Aziraphale. Aziraphale dearly wished he could take of Crowley’s sunglasses, but he knew that now was not the time.

“Our car,” he said firmly, giving Crowley a squeeze. “Our side.” He brushed Crowley’s hair back, taking a moment to linger on where the snake tattoo usually sat by his ear. The little snake slithered back to its rightful place. “Our.” He gave the snake tattoo a peck, fighting a smile.

“Ngk, mm, yeah. Our. Got it.” Crowley stumbled out, face now almost as fiery as his hair.

Aziraphale smiled softly at him. “Well then, I believe we have a bit more time to work things out, thanks to our dear old friend.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jesus called back sarcastically.

“So,” Aziraphale continued, “why don’t we continue where we left off? After all, I’ve missed you so fervently these past few months.”

He didn’t need to say anything more before Crowley was on him again like a man starved.

Piece I made for Easter based on the popular meme!

Jesus is risen and takes the wheel: I imagine a heated discussion, the Bentley calming things down with a romantic song and…vawoom!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Valentina 🇮🇹 (@valesya_art)

[aajjks]

TC!Junngkook

Oh shit! Jungkook, you scared me nearly to death! What are you doing up? Hey… Calm down baby, I’m okay. Breathe baby, Jungkook breath. I was just worried about you. You have been acting stranger ever since you received that letter this morning and since you have refused to tell me what it said, I can to find out for myself. I couldn’t find it but I was about to come back to you. I’m sorry for scaring you baby. I thought I would have had enough time to come and find the letter before you woke up. We can talk in the morning, let’s just go to back to bed. I promise I won’t leave your side without telling you. I’ll never do it again. Please don’t be mad at me for worrying about you. I’ve never had this much fear over losing you. Normally you’re always in control or at least always could at pretending everything is okay, this time you’re not. It’s obvious something serious was said to you but I’m not use to being this worried. I’ll make it up to you- I swear. Yes, let’s go back to our chamber now.

*As Yn and Jungkook make their way back to their chamber, lighting struck one of its brightest strikes of the night. If only the little lamb and her protector had stayed behind long enough to witness the outline of a man behind the Kings office curtains. Right next to the long forgotten empty closet. The couple arrive at their chambers and craw into bed. This time the King makes sure his Queen is asleep before shutting his eyes. This time though, he’s unable to fall asleep. He couldn’t shake the fear of Yn being taken right from under him. Heart still beating from the fear and adrenaline. Between thinking about the man harming his wife and the fact that he, himself almost harmed her… He couldn’t sleep. He wonders if this is the hurt the man wrote about. Is he playing mind games? Does he want the Jungkook to go insane? Or is he trying to make him so paranoid he is the who hurts Yn? By the time morning comes, the King is still wide awake. Knowing he needs to get up and figure out a way to catch this bastard he gets up and gets ready to start the man hunt. But not before waking the Queen up. She will remain by his side every second of everyday until they catch this man. Maybe even long after aswell. The King and Queen arrive down to the kitchen to retrieve their breakfast before their meeting with Dace about the patrols of last night. Normally the King skips on it since he wakes up so early and begins work immediately but for his Queen, she must eat her meals and take care of herself. He checks daily to make sure she’s ate her food down to how much water she drinks. She has always been his number one priority. Jungkook and Yn have assigned plates that were hand crafted just for the two, as a way for everyone to know who gets fed first and in case the royal leaders want something special made just for themselves. Jungkook took his normal jet black plate with scrabbled eggs and toast and some apple juice. Yn grabs her pastel pink plate with pancakes and cut up bananas along with her milk. They decide to eat their garden away from everyone else.*

I really am sorry about last night Jungkook. I didn’t mean for you to become that scared.You’re the one he’s after and I just wanted to know why. The guards didn’t tell you were I had went did they? Well actually, I didn’t tell them where I was going. I don’t think I did at least. Well, what’s your plan? These pancakes are so good. I think they’re a new flavor. Here baby, try some. Do you have a way to track him down? Jin and Yoongi said he stayed down by the bakery right? The cooks. I love them, I cook with them all the time. But back to what I was saying, they saw him right? Or at least who they were suspicious of? Well, there’s something I have to tell you about last night… Uhm… Hold on… I just… I can’t breathe- Right now… This milk- It takes different… I think-…

*Queen falls unconscious dude to the lack of oxygen. Unknowingly, the milk she just drank was hazelnut milk. Hazelnut is banned from the palace from how badly the Queen is allergic to it.*

It’s a new day so Jungkook doesn’t really feel like bringing up the events that took place last night, it shouldn’t have happened, but he apologized for it and like the good girl you always are for him we just went back to sleep.

Yeah, he might’ve stayed awake to make sure that you did but it was worth it. Whenever he’s near you, he feels like he can breathe. And especially ever since someone has threatened to hurt him in the worst way possible and the only way to do that is to hurt you..

He knows that threat was for you.

And right now he feels a little calm because you are both in the garden, eating pancakes, and the flavor is delicious but he doesn’t really feel that hungry, he will not calm down- not unless he catches that bastard.

“Oh yn sweetheart I’m so full I can’t eat anymore- yeah what is it that you wanted to tell me though? Ahh… umm wait is everything OK? YN?!!” he calls out your name but you just lose your consciousness but before you could hit the ground, he catches your head and now you’re laying in his lap while he’s freaking the fuck out screaming out his lungs

Jungkook calls for the physician and the guard guards, but soon he takes away the glass of milk from your hand and suddenly everything clicks, so to confirm his doubts he sniffs it.

“GUARDS!! who the fuck brought this milk to her-“ he is screaming and he knows how much you hate him when he does that but right now you’re literally unconscious and it’s like his worst nightmare is coming to life.

Jungkook is running with you in his arms like a maniac, his guards are following after him, and one has gone to fetch the physician

“WHO THE FUCK gave Hazel nut milk to the queen and when everyone of you knows that the queen is allergic to it?! WHO DID?! I WANT THEIR HEAD!”

[nitewrighter]

Smoky Tea

Now this could be a very disappointing followup to Cindy but people have expressed interest in some King and Queen focused stuff and these two have been rotting my brain since I answered that ask a while back so!! Here we are.

This is really a one-shot but it’s a little fun to dig into the Cindy-matic Universe a little further. 

-----

The fire in the fort’s captain’s quarters crackled as she poked at it. It was clear the lord of the fort had kept it as a cheap, low and long burning pile of embers to keep the room at a tolerable but not comfortable temperature, but she had heaped logs on it until it blazed, warm and cozy. The warmth was heavenly after two weeks shivering in a cell.

“I know I said ‘Do you want to get out of here,’” she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“It’s fine,” he sat a bit primly in one of the buckskin armchairs flanking the fireplace, 

“It’s just-- this room is more easily defensible than open air--and I do have an exit route if...” she trailed off.

“How high are the odds of that?” he asked, getting up from his seat and fiddling with the kettle crane, taking a pitcher of water from a small side table and filling the kettle.

“What are you doing?” she glanced over at him. They were basically shoulder to shoulder at the fire.

“I thought I’d put some tea on.”

“...tea,” she repeated.

“I could smell it. He has a stash. Smoky stuff. Hard to get in my country,” he tried to sound casual but his voice was somewhat distant. Longing. There was a moment of repulsion in her, like, ‘Jesus fucking christ we could still fucking die and he wants fucking tea.’ But there was something about the way he carried himself. It wasn’t impractical--the fear was definitely there, but there was a clear sense of, ‘Well if you’ve thrown all these logs on the fire, there’s no reason why we can’t get a little more comfortable.’

“You said these people were threatening to cut off your fingers, and now you’re making... tea,” she said as if she was trying to explain his own thought processes to him.

“If I can find it. I bet I can find it before the kettle starts whistling--” he was already walking out of the room.

“What are you?” she spoke after him.

“Sorry--we’re getting off track. You said something about an exit route?” he called from the other room.

 She drew her mouth to a thin line then. “One of my men found a hatch. Trapdoor. Leads right out. If I had looked harder I could have found him sooner--”

The kettle had a low, steady ‘whoooo’ of a whistle then, and she just heard a bright, “Found it!” from the other room, and in came the former prisoner with a tray laden with a well-used, but well-crafted and well-loved tea set. “And he had currant jam, too!” he said with a conspiratorial grin.

Her eyes crinkled with incredulity. 

“...you take your tea with jam here, right? That’s what my ambassador told me...” he trailed off. The way he looked at her triggered in a fury in her like ‘No, you do not get to fucking set up your little fucking picnic here. That’s not how this works.’ 

Her lips pulled back from her teeth from a few moments in disbelief. “You now, any prince with any survival instinct would be calling to his father to burn this hellhole down.” 

“It’s not a hellhole,” his voice was a bit distant but his eye contact is unsettlingly steady.

“You don’t know that! You don’t live here!” she snapped.

“No--I don’t--but the point of any diplomatic mission is to assume good faith so--” his mouth pinched up, “So that faith is in you, my lady. You are my rescuer. You are the representative of your country.”

“It’s hardly a country--” she muttered.

“Hardly indeed, but you saved me, so I... I ought to assume you’re the best of it.” 

The kettle was shrilly whistling then, and he briskly stepped over to it and swung it off the fire. Not breaking eye contact with her, he set the tea tray on the small table between the two buckskin chairs, took the kettle full of boiling water, and poured it into the teapot. There was a sort of ‘See? I can look after myself attitude’ of it, and she maintained an equally steely eye contact in turn, a look that said, ‘I doubt you’ve had to dig your own latrines.’

“How strong do you like your tea?” he asked, completely seriously, still maintaining that look.

“...I don’t have a particular preference,” she responded tersely.

“Very well then,” he said, as if she had resigned herself to a firing squad.

The tea steeped for about three and a half minutes of complete agonizing silence before he took the infuser out and poured them both cups, stirring a small spoonful of jam into each. He slid her tea saucer over to her. They both exchanged a steely glare before taking a sip and--

Everything melted away.

Sweetness and woodsy-floral smokiness and warmth hit her like the blast of a blunderbuss, spreading from her tongue to the roof of her mouth to the crown o her head to her throat to her chest to her whole body and she took a sharp inhale just to center herself amidst the sensation.

“Oh fuck me--that’s good,” she blurted out after a sip and a half.

He choked on his tea at the words. She snorted in turn.

“You said it first,” she said with a wry smile.

“So clearly you’re a corrupting influence,” he gave a short waggle of his eyebrows, “Miss...” his voice trailed off.

“Mynah,” she said the name like it was something small and shameful, like an extra toe or a tail--The king’s father actually had a tail, an ugly bald little thing about a thumb’s length, but he figured right then was not the best moment to bring it up.

“Like the bird,” he said instead.

“Plain, ugly things which move in flocks and blight the land,” she murmured.

“I never thought that about them,” he said quietly.

She was running her fingers through her hair. Greasy. Too long since any last decent bath. She felt his eyes on her and quickly flinched her fingers back around her cup.

“The way they move in dusk light it’s....” he trailed off.

She gave him that half-lidded, half-furrowed brow look again. 

“It’s beautiful,” he said finally, “It’s nothing any human would be able to improvise. It’s a ready reaction to every unseen shift in wind and light, but en masse, and reacting to the motion of your neighbors.” 

Her eyes crinkled at that. “...you just... had that ready?” she murmured.

“I quite enjoy bird-watching back home.”

A short huff left her nostrils before she sipped her own tea again. “...are you certain your father wasn’t trying to kill you by sending you here?”

She asked the question out of her own sense of gallows humor, but there definitely was a vein of sincerity to it, and the horrified look he gave her told her that that wasn’t a thing they worried about over in his country. “Is that a thing you have to worry about with your parents here?” he blurted out, almost exactly in time with her recognition of the fact, and she just pinched her mouth a little.

“It’s just... it’s not like you wouldn’t know how bad things have gotten--” she muttered half into her cup.

“Well there was a rough idea...” he murmured before settling his teacup in its saucer, “My father sent me here because he trusts my observation and judgment--it would hardly be appropriate to send troops in if we didn’t have a full understanding of the situation. And it’s not as if we make a habit of butting our nose into what isn’t our business! Just... some marauding bands had started making their way into our borderlands so this was first and foremost a diplomatic mission to see... what might be done about that. Collaboratively, you know.”

“Collaboratively,” she repeated.

“Well there’s a difference between helping someone and throwing fuel on a fire that really doesn’t need it,” he shrugged, “Granted, the two aren’t mutually exclusive but...” he raised his teacup in resignation, “I suppose that’s diplomacy for you.”

“...I’m sorry,” her voice came stilted and stiff to her.

He glanced up at her, breaking his lips away from the teacup.

“...you came here on a diplomatic mission, and you were chained up and bodily threatened--Is that right?”

“‘Threatened with bodily harm’ is the more legal terminology of it in my country,” he shrugged.

“And--and that is not--that is--it should not be the way of my people. And I apologize with regard to the attacks in our borderlands. I can assure you my men had no part in it, but we should be keeping our conflict within our borders.”

“Well...” he gave a resigned loll of his head, “At this point I’m not complaining.”

She snorted. “I’m complaining. A lot. Shit’s been going to shit since well before I had any idea of what’s going on and I don’t know if trying to make it better is making it worse.” 

He was giving her that slightly perplexed smile again and she broke eye contact with him, sipping her tea. 

“...what?” she said, before catching herself, “The swearing--I’m sorry--I’m used to talking to my men--”

“No just... the way you said that reminded me a bit of my father,” he itched behind his ear, “He always talked about, well, when one has power, there are a few ways one goes about it--there’s the bad way, holding onto it for its own sake, for the sake of securing one’s own comforts, punishing those you hate and all that...” he glanced down into his own teacup a bit ashamedly, “Then there’s... attempting to use power to right wrongs and whatnot, and then finding that your own power has so distorted your own perspective that you aren’t doing good at all... there are all these extremes one can go to when one has power, you understand.”

“...I think I do?” her nose scrunched up, “It’s... always been reactive for me. Not really about not thinking, but if you overthink it, you aren’t able to react properly, because circumstances are always changing--but then when everything’s reaction---” Her mouth pinched as well. “I feel stupid talking about this with you--can we talk about something else?”

“I don’t think you’ve said anything stupid,” he said--and he said it so offhandedly and unthinkingly, and yet the warmth and brightness that burned in her chest right then made her feel just as foolish. She had gotten as far as she had by not giving a shit what so many stupid men had thought, and here was mister tea-and-jam making her... think about how she... thought about things??? “I mean, back in my country everyone goes back and forth about so many specificities that by the time we actually come to consensus.. circumstances have changed. People always adapt faster than their governments, but that affects their governments, but you can hardly blame people for adapting.” 

“Well, even if it’s slow... that’s left you better off than us,” she just shrugged.

“I don’t believe that,” he shook his head.

Her mouth quirked. “Oh?”

“Well, I just don’t really think it’s as cut and dry as that,” he sipped his tea a little sullenly, “People in my country they... cocoon themselves up in wealth--and yes while we don’t have... the... er... cultural difficulties--”

“Generations of bloodshed.”

“Yes, those, I mean--a lot of the old families have grudges but it’s about silly  things like shrubbery or who married whose nephew--but that’s part of the problem! Perspective! No news isn’t always good news, you know!”

“No news usually means your messenger has been killed,” she murmured unthinkingly.

“See? Perspective,” he said with a slight ‘exactly’ wag of his finger. 

She chuckled a little. 

“Would it be possible for you to help me draft a report for my father?” he leaned forward, his eyes bright, “Then I could bring it home, and our council could...” a slight dullness of realization washed over his expression, “Debate over it... for months...” he paused.

“Well--when they hear the harrowing tale of the prince’s kidnapping, they’re sure to do something, right?” she shrugged.

“In... theory?” he set his teacup aside and pressed his chin into his hand and thought with a very grim expression for a few seconds. His eyebrows raised and he sat up in his chair. “What if--”

“I’m not coming back with you.”

“I didn’t even say--Okay yes, I was going to suggest you come back with me but hear me out--”

“Do you know what my enemies call me?” she drew herself up from her seat, folding her arms across herself, quietly pacing the floor, “Bandit Queen. Witch Queen. Bitch Queen. Wolf Queen. Wolf Bitch.”

“Four out of five of those are ‘queen!’ Though honestly, I’m quite partial to Wolf Bitch,” he said with a slight smile and she gave him a side-eye with her own wry grin.

“What I’m saying is, if I came to your court, I’d just be... an oddity,” she glanced off, “An exotic wild beast the valiant prince has brought back and tamed--”

“Oh please we both know there’s no taming you,” he muttered before she raised her eyebrows and he caught himself, “I--I mean--Well--I said earlier--you’re my rescuer. You are the most valiant representative of your people... and I bet you could thrill them with some... swashbuckling tales.”

“They aren’t that swashbuckling,” she said and she glanced at the blood streaks on the floor, “They’re mostly...” she trailed off, “I mean... my men have some really good stories...”

“Well--we can work on that on the way over. I’ll just say your hair was down and--and--flowing in the breeze when you rescued me. They’ll eat that up.”

“Hair down is highly impractical and we’re indoors,” she said flatly.

“Well, the important thing is, you rescued me, but you’d be surprised how many of the little details no one thinks matter really matter,” he shrugged. 

“That’s a slight shift from the whole... ‘power ought to serve its people’ thing you were saying earlier.”

“Well they’re serving your people, and then there’s serving your people in the context of a bunch of very rich old families and dry advisors whose priority is staying in their respective wealth-cocoons but who are thankfully susceptible to romanticism and the right narrative,” he shrugged, “Just... trust me on the hair-down thing.”

Her mouth pinched, “I... I don’t know how long I can leave my men,” she said after a few beats. 

“I--I know it’s a big ask but also...” he huffed slightly, “Just because you’re very good at treading water, doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to keep doing it... not when there can be another way. It’s... very clear your men trust you, but surely you have men you trust.” 

“A few...” she admitted, before glancing at the bloodstains again, “And I have a few less to worry about.” She looked around, “Plus, with this fort...I--I can’t go immediately, we need to establish this foothold better--”

“Obviously, I’m happy to stay as long as--” he caught himself.

“...you should still probably write home,” she said, giving him a lopsided smile.

“Right. Yes, of course,” he picked up his teacup again.

 She trailed off and snorted a little. A long warm pause passed, not with the same tension as earlier. “...what kind of tea do they have in your country?”

“Well... it’s all right,” his shoulders relaxed, “But I’m still definitely bringing the smoky stuff back with me.”

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Hello there! I saw your sayaka profile pic and my heart did a tiny tippy tap! And THEN i saw your shinobu cover photo and I SCREAMED. We stan a multifandom queen! Anyway, I saw your requests were open. I hope you dont mind me requesting for a oneshot (with a future part 2 if some people are willing and depends on demand too but i am happy with whatever) for shinobu x female reader in which the reader may be a hashira trying to capture shinobu's attention (which the reader already has but is oblivious as hell to it) and the reader makes attempts to make shinobu fall for her like giving her flowers and makes romantic advances (shinobu is already is but is trying to tone it down or else her heart will burst) but then one day the reader is sent on a mission and had to leave in haste but ofc she sent a proper goodbye to shinobu before leaving. Then it takes atleast a week or more before the readwr actually returns and is injured, shinobu then sees the reader and is heartbroken and does everything in her might to save the reader at which at one point we see shinobu breaks her cold and fake smile facade and she starts crying since she almost lost the reader. The reader then says "so you DO like me!" And shinobu just goes like "ofc i do i already fucking love you" or something😭 THIS WAS TOO LONG I AM SO SORRY i just noticed a tiny lack of shinobu oneshots sksksksksksk

You Do Like Me!

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: Yayyy tippy taps😊! Hope this is alright. Gets a little angsty when Reader comes back injured, but everything turns out alright. Word Count: 2,708

“Good afternoon, Shinobu. You’re looking as lovely as ever.” (Y/n) complimented her fellow Hashira as she sat beside her. In the distance behind Shinobu, she could see Mitsuri giving her a double thumbs up and Obanai watched her with one brow raised. So far so good.

An amused hum left Shinobu’s lips and she gave (Y/n) a coy side glance.

“You flatter me, (Y/n). How was your last mission? I feel as though I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It went well! I, um, I met this old woman selling her wares on the side of the road. Turns out her husband blows glass and he makes really beautiful glass trinkets,” she dug into her breast pocket and pulled out a little velvet bag, presenting it to Shinobu, “I saw this one, and it reminded me of you, so I got it for you!”

Shinobu took the bag as if it was package of significant importance, which to her, of course it was. Anything that came from (Y/n) was like a blessing from a goddess in her book. It was becoming even more difficult for her not to blush at even the slightest touch. Knowing that (Y/n)’s attention was almost always reserved for her made her feel like she had her own personal sun.

She opened the drawstring and emptied the bag’s contents into her open palm. An intricately crafted sculpture of smooth, colorful glass about as tall as her index finger rolled across her skin. It appeared to be a bonsai tree with a couple butterflies resting upon it. It was very sweet.

“I thought it might look nice on your desk or a shelf or something. It you put it where the sun can touch it, the colors are supposed to reflect off of nearby surfaces.” (Y/n) explained. Shinobu was glad her fellow Hashira had something to talk about because she was having difficulty finding words of her own.

“…It’s a very sweet gift, (Y/n). Thank you very much. I will be sure to put it somewhere that I may see it every day and think of you.” Shinobu was proud of how she managed to keep her voice even, and even prouder of how her words seemed to fluster (Y/n) and make her teeter on her knees.

“I’m glad you like it!” (Y/n) stuttered, her heart threatening to leap out of her throat. Her nerves were starting to get the better of her, so she faced front to where the Master was sure to appear soon and distractedly ran her fingers through the pebbles that littered the ground.

Shinobu watched her and sighed inwardly. She often caught herself wondering when the romantic gestures, gifts and sweet compliments would come with something more. She knew (Y/n) had feelings for her, as she was constantly vying for her attention. It just so happened (Y/n) did have her attention and had won it some time ago, yet she still hadn’t attempted to go further. It was starting to make Shinobu a little crazy. She would take matters into her own hands, but she knew she had a tendency to be a little intense. She didn’t want to come off too strong. So, she waited for (Y/n) to take that next step. Hopefully, it would be sooner rather than later. Surely (Y/n) must know her feelings were reciprocated, right?

Right?

The Master’s eldest daughters came out to announce their father’s arrival and then it was back to business. She quickly popped the glass sculpture back in its bag and slipped it into her breast pocket. Then she bowed beside (Y/n), making sure their shoulders gazed. She felt (Y/n) stiffen before relaxing once more and smiled at the pebbles beneath her as Gyomei greeted the Master.

“Hello my children,” Ubuyashiki greeted them warmly, “it does my heart good to have all of you here in good health. Let’s begin so you may go to your homes to rest. Who would like to share the results of their mission first?”

Each Hashira shared their findings, disappointed to say they had no definitive leads pointing to Kibutsuji. However, there were whispering of a hideout somewhere near the coast of Mount Fuji. To investigate those claims, Ubuyashiki asked (Y/n) and Giyuu to travel there for reconnaissance. The mission was only to take a survey of the land, but it still made Shinobu worry. She wished Oyakata-sama would have considered her for the mission so she could keep an eye on (Y/n).

When the meeting concluded, no one seemed interested in hanging around to catch up, as they were all exhausted and wanted to go home before they were called to their next missions.

“(L/n)-san, our mission…”

“I’ll catch up in a minute, Tomioka-san. Go ahead.”

Shinobu did her best to calm her heart as (Y/n) jogged to catch up to her. She met her efforts with a smile.

“Hey.” (Y/n) matched Shinobu’s smile and walked along side her with a bit of a skip in her step.

“Hey.” Shinobu parroted with a teasing lilt, brushing her shoulder against (Y/n)’s arm.

“So you know I’ve got a mission to get to. I just wanted to say goodbye real quick before I head out on the road.”

“No goodbyes.” Shinobu admonished gently, poking (Y/n) in her side and making her squirm. “Only be back soons or see you laters. You won’t keep me waiting long, will you?”

“No! Never! I mean, it shouldn’t take to long, just a little light digging. I’ll be back to bothering you before you know it!”

Shinobu chuckled and stopped walking, causing (Y/n) to come to a halt as well. Feeling especially bold in that moment, she cupped (Y/n)’s jaw and grazed her fingers over the rapidly heating skin.

“You never bother me. I’ll be eagerly awaiting your return.” She promised.

Shinobu had no trouble melting into the hug she suddenly found herself in. Her arms moved of their own accord, wrapping around (Y/n)’s neck. It was nice, she didn’t want to let go. Unfortunately, (Y/n) pulled back not even a minute later.

“I’ll be back soon then.” (Y/n) nodded, taking a couple steps back to put some semblance of personal space between them.

“See you later.” Shinobu nodded in return. “Be safe.”

“I will!” (Y/n) threw a backwards wave Shinobu’s way as she ran off to catch up with Giyuu.

Shinobu watched her go until she could not see her anymore and then continued her trek home. Feeling the weight of the glass sculpture against her chest, she hoped (Y/n) would be able to come home soon.

***

It had almost been two weeks since (Y/n) and Giyuu were sent off on their reconnaissance mission and Shinobu was beyond upset. She would never let it show on her face, but she was in agony as every new day came with no news. Without anything she could do about the situation, she spent more time working to distract from the rage building within her.

She sat in her office, organizing prescriptions and charts all night until dawn began to paint the edges of the sky. She paused her writing, noting the shimmery green color reflecting upon the back of her hand. She put down her brush so she could pick up the little glass bonsai tree and stare at it longingly. She wrapped her fist around it, before resting it against her lips. Her eyes closed for the first time in over twenty-four hours. However, they quickly snapped open again when Aoi burst through her office door.

“Shinobu-sama, (Y/n)-sama is in critical condition. Tomioka-sama just brought her in, come quickly—!” Aoi had blinked and Shinobu was gone as if she hadn’t been in the room at all. She had no time to waste, she closed the office door once more and ran back in the direction of the hospital ward to assist her Master in anyway that she could.

Shinobu had sprung to action as soon as she heard (Y/n) was in critical condition. She had to try extra hard to keep her total concentration breathing in check, she had to stay calm, she had to stay calm. Only immature people can’t control their emotions, only immature people—

So much blood.

Shinobu paled. Forget total concentration, it was taking everything in her just to remember how to breathe.

Tomioka stood above (Y/n), pressing down on a particularly deep wound on her abdomen while Kakushi circled around gathering the necessary supplies. His sleeves and chest were covered in blood, but Shinobu could judge based on his current position that none of it was his own.

“What happened?” Shinobu asked harshly, her breathing noticeably heavy as she tried to keep herself from breaking.

Giyuu kept his hands firmly in place, but turned to look at Shinobu over his shoulder with a subtle look of sorrow and sympathy that only Shinobu would notice.

“The lead was a set up. No Kibutsuji, no hideout, but there was a Lower Moon. We got split up.”

“What kind of excuse—!” Shinobu bit her tongue. She couldn’t blame Giyuu for this. If she knew him as well as she thought she did, he was already beating himself up. “I’m sorry, just get out. I have her now. Rest, you’ve done everything you could.”

Giyuu’s hands were replaced with Shinobu’s. Her breathing stuttered as blood covered her palms. She had been in similar situations countless times, but she refused to relive it again with (Y/n) being the one beneath her.

“(Y/n)? Wake up. Can you hear me? Wake up!” She commanded.

Those kind eyes she loved remained closed no matter how hard she yelled. The Kakushi moved around her doing their jobs as best they could though they were frightened by the fury in Shinobu’s eyes, the tears that could no longer be held behind the Hashira’s seemingly impenetrable wall. Though they would never admit it, she was becoming more of a liability than an asset at this point.

“Shinobu-sama!” Aoi scolded, taking a tight hold of one of Shinobu’s bloodied wrists. She knew her Master was hurting, they all were, but she couldn’t let her carry on like this. “You can’t help her like this, pull yourself together or get out so we can do our job!” She knew she was being cruel, but it was just what Shinobu needed to hear.

“Forgive me, Aoi.” She murmured, “You’re right.” She looked down at (Y/n)’s pained face and chastised herself internally. She wasn’t going to save (Y/n) by crying over her. She took a deep breath through her nose and began taking stock of the operating room. “Prepare several bags of O negative blood for transfusions.”

“Already ahead of you.” Aoi nodded, determined.

They worked throughout the day and sometime when the moon was back high in the sky, they were able to stabilize (Y/n) and move her into an intensive care room. Shinobu stopped by Giyuu, who was being treated for minor injuries in the infirmary, to force herself to apologize to him and let him know that (Y/n) was pulling through.

Then, she went back to (Y/n)’s room and sat on the edge of her bed, clasping one of her hands between her own. She watched (Y/n)’s chest rise and fall attentively, making sure each breath was strong and unobstructed. With a shaky breath of her own, she rose (Y/n)’s hand to her lips and kissed it before resting it against her forehead and closing her eyes. She was so tired, but she sure as hell wasn’t leaving (Y/n)’s side for another moment.

She removed her hair clip and anything else on her person that would bring discomfort before sliding under the sheets beside (Y/n). She kept (Y/n)’s wrist secured in her grasp so she could feel the slow beat of her pulse. Shinobu exhaled against (Y/n)’s fingers in hopes of warming her up. Her skin was still cool to the touch after losing so much blood. If not for the injuries (Y/n) had sustained, Shinobu would have cuddled closer. She settled herself as close to (Y/n) as she dared, and fell asleep counting the beats of (Y/n)’s pulse.

***

Over the next couple days, Shinobu couldn’t be pulled away from (Y/n) for more than an hour a day. She felt childish and selfish, but at the same time she believed she earned the right to be a little selfish. She was done playing around. When (Y/n) finally woke up, Shinobu was going to tell her in no uncertain terms that she loved her and then lovingly beat the shit out of her for scaring her so badly.

She had just returned from a light meal and a soak at the bathhouse as per Aoi’s insistent nagging, and sat on the edge of (Y/n)’s bed feeling admittedly refreshed, yet tired after soaking in the steamy water.

She took (Y/n)’s hand as was routine and checked her pulse, smiling tenderly. The beat was getting stronger all the time. She pressed a kiss to (Y/n)’s open palm and then snuggled in beneath the covers as was common for her these days. She closed her eyes and hummed a small sound of satisfaction for the warmth that had been absent for the first several hours after (Y/n)’s surgery.

She had developed a habit of counting (Y/n)’s bpm so she began to hone in on the thrumming of (Y/n)’s pulse and her forehead wrinkled the slightest bit.

When did her pulse get so fast?

Worried, Shinobu sat up and hovered over (Y/n), checking her temperature, her bandages, until she finally perceived the unbelieving, yet mirthful eyes watching her work.

“You do like me.” (Y/n) would have loved to put more energy into her delivery, but her throat felt sore. There was also the possibility that this was a drug induced dream or Giyuu hadn’t been able to get her back in time and she was dead.

Shinobu’s mouth opened and closed for a few beats like a fish before she took (Y/n)’s face in her hands and kissed her deeply.

Oh, she was certainly dead. This was too good to be true.

Shinobu broke away and after a few short gasps of air she gave (Y/n) the most furious look she had ever seen on the other girl.

“Of course I like you, I fucking love you, (Y/n)! I have for a long time!” She said, not quite yelling, but it certainly wasn’t her regular tone either.

“You, you do?” (Y/n) was feeling light headed. Between her injuries, the kiss and the confession, she was feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“Yes! Really, I can’t believe you could be so oblivious. All of your attempts to capture my attention, yet you somehow couldn’t tell that you already had it?”

“I, I guess not. Why didn’t you say anything?” Shinobu was still brushing noses with her and she was amazed she could even speak at all with Shinobu’s intense stare swallowing her up.

“I was hoping you would, but you had your chance. Do you have any idea how badly you scared me? You almost broke my heart!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

Shinobu heard the tremor in (Y/n)’s voice and knew immediately that she had to ease up. She was upset, but that gave her no right to cause (Y/n) any distress. She didn’t want to do that to begin with. She stroked (Y/n)’s cheeks with her thumbs.

“I know you didn’t. I’m sorry for yelling.”

Cautiously, (Y/n)’s hands reached up to caress Shinobu’s biceps and shoulders. When Shinobu relaxed, (Y/n) flashed a weak smile.

“I worried you, I’m sorry too.”

“It’s alright sweet girl. It’s not your fault,” Shinobu kissed (Y/n)’s nose and shifted to lay back down beside her, “It is exhausting to worry for so long though.”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“Probably, is it alright that I stay here?”

“I would be sad if you didn’t.”

Shinobu chuckled and her eyes slipped shut. She fell into a relaxed level of sleep that she hadn’t encountered in weeks. (Y/n) didn’t take long to follow suit, still exhausted from her battle and the surgeries she had undergone.

When Aoi came into the room to help Shinobu change (Y/n)’s bandages she found them both in peaceful slumber with peaceful smiles upon their lips.

[skeezsbbygirl]

tmt (too much tank tops) + bang chan

hello sunshines! (◕‿◕✿)

i’m sorry it took so long for me to update :( i had some personal agendas i needed to attend to, but all is good now <3 this is for anon who requested a bang chan scenario inspired from all the sleeveless looks he’s been serving all of us lately haha. hope you enjoy!

STRAY KIDS EVERYWHERE ALL AROUND THE WORLD.

Don't do it, you thought, as you fought back the urge to bite Chris' exposed arm. The said male's attention was currently fixated on his laptop, clicking some buttons as he bopped his head with the beat that was playing in his headphones. You could faintly hear the tune due to Chris' habit of turning up the volume too loud, claiming that he needed to do that to perfect his craft.

His arm flexed, unbeknownst to him, as he rubbed his neck in attempt to ease some of the tension that was building in his muscles. Such motion made his veins even more prominent, faint shades of green and blue laced through his upper arm down to his hands.

"Chris, stop," you said as you grabbed his arm, slowly guiding it back to rest on the table. Your boyfriend looked at you in confusion, swiftly hitting pause on his laptop to focus on you.

"Stop what, baby?" he questioned as his brown orbs innocently stared into yours, a hint of concern was also displayed on his features, worrying if he had done something wrong for you to call him out.

"I'm sorry, I'll get this done right away," Chris added quickly, taking your hand into his and pressing a kiss on your knuckles. You offered him a sweet smile as you shook your head.

"No, babe. I wasn't talking about that," you explained, shifting in your seat to take a better look at him. Chris slid his headphones off, setting the gadget right beside his laptop. "Then what is it, bub?" he pressed, "You know you can tell me anything, yeah?"

"It's just," you paused as a sudden wave of embarrassment hit you. "Just what?" Chris prompted for you to go on. You shook your head, deciding to bite back the reply that was at the tip of your tongue. "Nothing. Forget I said anything, go back to work," you shrugged, flashing him a convincing smile as you reached out for your phone.

Chris eyed you suspiciously, sensing that there was something odd about your behavior. "I'm not going back to work unless you tell me what's going on," he stated. "Look at me, baby," he instructed as his finger firmly tilted your chin up. "Spill, (y/n)," he said, taking your phone from your hand as he carefully placed it on the table.

"It's embarrassing," you whined, pulling away from his grip, opting to nuzzle your face into his neck. "It's just me, babe," he chuckled, "Come on, baby."

"Exactly, it's you," you muttered, sending shivers down Chris' spine as your lips grazed the sensitive skin of his neck as you spoke. "What about me, love?" he asked as he grabbed your waist, pulling you towards him, making you settle on his lap. Your arms automatically wrapped themselves around his shoulders with your face still buried in his neck as he maneuvered you into a comfortable position.

"Youandyourstupidmuscletanktops," you breathed out in one go. "What?" Chris laughed, "What was that, babygirl?"

He heard you the first time, managing to catch your words despite how muffled you sounded. But still, he wanted to tease you.

"I hate you," you mumbled. "I hate you and your arms, and how they make me feel."

"No, you don't," Chris interjected. "Because if this is how you react when you hate them, then how much more flustered will you get when you actually love them," he teased.

You groaned in annoyance. "See? This is why I didn't want to tell you," you said as you emerged from your hiding. "So, you were ogling at my arms, huh?" Chris joked, cocking one eyebrow at you.

"Whatever, I'm joining Hyunjin in the dance room," you pouted, pushing yourself off of him, but Chris only tightened his hold on you. "No, baby," Chris whined, "Alright, I'm sorry, no more teasing."

Chris leaned in and gave you a kiss, one that lasted longer than usual. "You're the cutest," he cooed to which you responded with an eye roll. "I'm flattered that you like my arms," Chris said, "I've been working out with Bin a lot these days," he added.

"Yeah, I've noticed," you replied as you lightly traced the veins that adorned his upper arm with your fingers. Chris visibly relaxed under your touch, his eyes followed your movement, fascinated by your actions. "I'm glad you noticed," Chris giggled, suddenly growing shy from the attention he was getting from you. Not that he wasn't used to it, but it was the first time that you verbally expressed your fixation on his arms. He might have noticed your stares now and then, but he really didn't make a big deal out of it.

"Well, how can I not when you've been wearing a lot of sleeveless tops nowadays," you pointed out. Chris lifted his shoulders in a half shrug and you shook your head at your boyfriend's cocky demeanor, snuggling back into his embrace.

"I find them comfortable," Chris claimed. "And I find them distracting," you countered back. "Yeah, clearly," he teased, earning him a light smack on his right arm. "I just want to be in your arms forever," you said and Chris smiled at your response, planting a kiss on your forehead in the process.

"I'm here, baby. I got you forever."

The both of you stayed cuddled up for a while, with one of Chris' hand gently stroking your hair while the other was wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him.

"I missed you," you spoke after a while. "Like a lot," you added as you peppered Chris' neck with small kisses. "I missed you more, babygirl," he replied. "Alright, let me finish up and we'll go home," Chris released his hold on you, gently guiding you back to your seat.

An hour later, you guys were home, with you on the bed and Chris currently taking a shower. You were sprawled out on your stomach as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone, answering messages from your friends that popped up in your notification center every now and then.

Your attention was only shifted when Chris emerged out of the bathroom, clad in nothing but black sweatpants and a small towel hanging on his right shoulder, leaving his upper body bare. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to you as you watched him dry his hair with the towel.

"Here, babe, I'll do it for you," you offered as you crawled to where he was. You tapped his shoulder, motioning for him to sit on the carpeted floor of your shared bedroom as you placed your legs on his sides. Chris' body nestled between your parted legs, crossing his own and making himself comfortable. "Thanks," he said, handing you the towel.

"You did well today," you complimented which earned you a shy chuckle from Chris. "You say that everyday," he noted, dodging your praises. "Because you do well everyday, Chris," you insisted, harshly ruffling his hair to make your point. The black-haired male whined at your sudden action, tilting his head up to pout at you. "You're such a baby," you teased, leaning down to kiss his lips. "But I'm your baby," Chris replied, catching your lips in another kiss.

"Yes, you are, so you better wear more sleeves from now on," you squeezed his arms, and then leaned down to plant a kiss on his exposed shoulder. "Aww, is my queen jealous?" Chris joked, poking your cheek. You huffed in response. "Don't worry, beautiful," he paused as he turned his body around to properly face you. "They may be out there for everyone to see, but they're only yours to touch and feel, and occasionally ogle at," he continued, a giggle escaping his lips as he delivered the latter line.

"I do not ogle," you argued, playfully hitting his arm with your fist. Chris laughed and stood up, hovering over your seated figure. He placed his hands on your sides, caging you within his arms. With Chris being so close, you could smell the all too familiar scent of his body wash -- it was safe to say that it took quite a lot of control not to pounce on him right there and then. "Yeah, sorry. I meant drool," he mocked.

You scoffed at his remark. "Forget it, I'm gonna ogle at Changbin's arms instead," you challenged and Chris immediately dropped his act. "Don't you dare," he gasped and attacked you with kisses. You yelped in surprise, throwing your head back as you giggled, which only allowed Chris to have better access to your neck.

"Alright, alright," you managed to say in between giggles, "I'm kidding, Chris!"

Chris stopped, placing one final kiss on your lips as he detached himself from you. "Good, 'cause you're mine," he stated. "I'm yours, always. I promise," you reassured as your hands came up to gently caress his cheeks. Chris melted under your touch, basking within the affection you were giving him.

You closed the gap between the two of you, connecting your lips with his once more. Chris caught you off guard for a second when he deepened the kiss. It was slow and soft at first, but things quickly turned heated when Chris nibbled on your bottom lip, and at your grant of access, he delved inside your mouth.

You raked your hands through his brown curly locks, lightly tugging at the strands as you pulled him closer, which elicited a soft moan from Chris, his own hands finding their way under your top.

"Alright, sugar lips," you chuckled as you pulled away from Chris, halting his advances, "Go put a shirt on, you need to rest."

"Don't want to," Chris insisted as he towered over your figure once again. "And why not?" you asked, raising one eyebrow at him. "Because I wanna love on you right now," he answered, "So lie back, babygirl."

[soulmate-game]

Well, here is the stupid thing I was alluding to. It’s mostly a filler chapter, but yeah.

Harley’s Plea for Help, Chapter 3

“Well, that took a while,” a relatively deep female voice smoothly drawled. The plants placed right next to the window pulled away, no longer blocking the pathway inside. The two figures who were perched right outside the windowsill took the invitation and climbed inside, the shorter of the two looking at the woman who had spoken and smiling widely.

“Auntie Ivy!” Marinette happily exclaimed, making the redhead across from her grin back.

“That’s me. It sure is nice to actually see you in person, little Marigold,” she held out her arms for a hug, which Marinette instantly ran in to accept. “Video calls are never quite enough, are they? You’re so tiny! Are you sure you eat alright?”

“Auntie Ivyyyyyy,” Marinette whined, knowing full well that Ivy was just teasing her.

“So, what took you all so long?” Ivy asked Red Hood, even as she kept her arms wrapped around her soon-to-be daughter in law. “Usually you bats are all about getting back on the streets to punch people, we didn’t think you’d be bringing her in at almost one in the morning.”

Hood shrugged, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Your little garden fairy nearly gave us the slip. Went straight out the back exit instead of doin’ anything showy like we half expected and we almost missed her.”

“I stopped as soon as I noticed who they were, I swear!” Marinette pulled away from Ivy, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t expect Momma to send them to babysit me before our first full day being in Gotham. In hindsight, though, I really should have.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ivy agreed with a smirk, ruffling Marinette’s hair and making her pigtails go a little crooked. “And I know for a fact that you’ve done some stunts off your balcony back in Paris, so at least I know you can be responsible and hold yourself back from doing the same here. Must get that from me, because we both know it doesn’t come from Harley.”

Marinette and Hood both had to laugh at that. Being responsible was definitely not a trait that Marinette could have inherited from anybody in her family tree, that was for sure.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me in front of my daughter?” the comically scandalized voice announced the arrival of one Harley Quinn, who walked into the room in white onesie pajamas with a poker print on them. All of the “joker” cards were crossed out heavily with red sharpie, and a few of them had black-sharpie devil horns and handlebar mustaches vandalizing them. Marinette even caught one such card with a googly eye on it, the matching eye having fallen off and leaving only a small circle of since-dried hot glue where it used to be. “If you guys are gonna be that way, fine! Ivy dyes her hair!”

“No she doesn’t,” Marinette deadpanned, clearly fighting against a giant grin. The corners of her lips gave her away, they never stopped twitching with repressed mirth. “But you do. I got the pictures to prove—- aah!” Harley tackled her daughter to the ground, attacking her with tickles immediately.

“Take it back! My hair is naturally blond!”

“Yeah, naturally— hahahahaha! Sandy blonde! You— hahaha! Have just as much brown— stop I can’t breathe! hahahaha!— as yellow!”

“Hmph,” Harley finally backed off, crossing her eyes and looking away from Marinette with an exaggerated pout. “How dare you reveal my darkest secret?”

“I was a natural redhead even before I got my powers,” was all Ivy had to say, looking all too amused at this turn of events. “Your original costume completely covered your hair.”

“Don’t worry, Harley,” Red Hood butted in, reminding the three girls that he was still here. His tone suggested that he was definitely smiling under his helmet. “We found out about your hair dye years ago.”

“I just cover up the brown parts! It’s not like I’m changin’ much,” she argued before standing up again. “Thanks for gettin’ my cupcake back safely, little birdie. Oh, that's right! I made cupcakes! Hang on, lemme grab one for your trip back!” with that, she span on her heels and ran back further into the apartment. Marinette dashed over to Hood, immediately shoving him to the window.

“Quick, save yourself! Momma can’t bake for her life!” she whispered urgently. “I’ll say you were called away for an emergency, just hurry!”

“It’s not even a lie, getting away from Harley’s baking is an emergency,” Ivy agreed, waving as the vigilante took their advice and fled. It was only three seconds later that Harley slid back into the room, nearly falling due to the feet of her onesie having pretty much zero friction. Her face immediately fell when she saw that her victim was gone, leaving her standing there with a cupcake that was about twice as much frosting as actual cake, covered in sprinkles like a kid’s craft project that was smothered in glitter. The frosting was also shapeless, just heaped on the cake like a half-melted scoop of ice cream. She sighed in despair.

“There goes my chance of giving a bat diabetes. You guys warned him, didn’t ya?”

They both nodded shamelessly. “We’re not that cruel, Harley,” Ivy defended, getting up from her spot on her cushioned armchair and wrapping an arm around her fiance’s waist before she kissed the top of her head gently. “Hood got our little Marigold back safe and sound, and he’s even started a garden at his apartment. He doesn’t deserve to be poisoned by you.”

“I thought you said he got a single cactus at the flea market last month,” Harley deadpanned, making Ivy shrug.

“Might as well be a garden for him, and it’s something he’s not likely to kill so that’s a plus to me. He’s actually taking really good care of the little baby.”

“Speaking of garden!” Marinette gently took the sad excuse of a pastry away from her mom and sat it down on a side table before ushering both of them over to the living room and onto the sofa. “My garden back home is growing so big, I don’t think I can keep everything much longer. I barely have room to walk on the terrace, with all the vines and leaves and branches. Got any ideas of what I can do?”

“Of course! Do you have pictures, Marigold?”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slipping back through her hotel window at six in the morning was risky, since it involved climbing the wall and hoping nobody saw, but her classmates were so unpredictable that it was the only way she could be sure nobody would find out that she had violated curfew and snuck out. Of course, having Red Robin waiting outside her mom’s apartment’s terrace to escort her back helped. At least she knew that no street cams would record her comings or goings, and his grappling hook made the whole scale-the-hotel-wall business much more efficient.

Once she was inside, she sighed happily. “Thanks, now—“ her apology was cut off as Red Robin held up a finger to tell her to wait.

“Hold that thought, be right back. Don’t move.”

Thinking, rightfully, that something was wrong, Marinette obeyed. She watched Red Robin leap off of her hotel balcony and disappear into the streets. Immediately, she began a search to make sure her room had been left untampered— everything important had been packed in the backpack that she had taken to her mom’s place, but still. Could never be too careful. By the time she finished checking for bugs or any signs of snooping, Red Robin landed back on her balcony.

“Here we go.”

Turning to face him, Marinette opened her mouth to ask what the problem had been— only to tear up a little and walk over to the vigilante.

“Oh, my hero. Truly, my one and only savior. Knight in shining red Kevlar. I’m running on two hours of sleep and you have read my mind!” The pigtailed drama queen eagerly took the coffee that he offered her, and he sipped from a larger cup that looked like he had grabbed it from the same place. Marinette almost instantly sighed in gratitude when the hot drink lightly scalded her tongue. This. This was the elixir of life.

To his credit, Red Robin was able to restrain himself to merely an amused smirk. Probably because he was running on just as little sleep as she was. “Sorry it’s only a small, I figured it was best to have something you could finish quickly and easily hide the evidence for. If you need more caffeine, I happen to know that Wayne Enterprises has a very good coffee shop in their main hall. You’ll be touring there today, right?” He asked, taking another sip as he waited for the answer that he already knew.

Marinette nodded absently, drinking in the euphoria of her coffee as she tried to both savor it yet finish it as quickly as safely possible. When she came up for air, she said; “Yeah, that’s right. We’re touring Wayne Enterprises for most of the day, having lunch there, and leaving for dinner after the tour. Then we have a visit to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art, and we’ll stay there until about eight-thirty before heading back to the hotel.”

Red Robin nodded, then turned and looked out the window at the slowly rising sun. Sunrise was always a bit later in Gotham, partly because of the abundance of high-rises and partly because of the thick cloud cover and ever-present fog on the edges of the city making everything seem darker than it should have been. He had to be at work soon himself, which is why he had been chosen to escort her to the hotel in the first place, but that meant that he had to be heading off.

“Alright. We arranged for a bodyguard we trust to keep an eye on your class during the WE tour, but he doesn't know who you are or that we’re the ones who asked. We’re still in the process of arranging someone to shadow you after the tour, but we’ll tell you about that once it’s solidified. Until then, follow the usual self-defense procedures if you suspect anyone of following you. You have the panic button we gave you?”

Marinette nodded, gulping down the last of her coffee and carefully putting it in her room’s tiny trash can. “Got it. Thanks, again. Seriously,” she met his eyes— or, probably did since they were hidden behind that weird white film that the whole Batfam had covering the eyeholes of their masks. “I mean it. For listening to me, for listening to Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep the panic button on me, and I’ll use it if I think I can’t handle a situation on my own. I’ll cooperate with the people you get to watch over the class, and I’ll do my best to not get into any trouble. No promises, but I’ll do my best,” she maintained eye contact until Red Robin nodded, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. After a second, he cleared his throat.

“Well then. We’ll contact you once we have anything to say about your intel. Until then, I gotta go. And by the way?”

Marinette tilted her head curiously as Red Robin paused for just a moment on her balcony railing, aiming a smirk back at her. “Yeah?”

“Welcome to Gotham.”

And if she couldn’t help but smile widely as he grappled off into the fog-veiled sunrise? Well, only she had to know. She wasted no time closing and locking the glass balcony door, and pulling the curtains over it completely. Once that was done, she couldn’t help but do a little shimmy of Joy. She was caffeinated, she met Auntie Ivy in person for the first time, she got to sleep next to her momma— and she was in Gotham! Technically her hometown— or town she was conceived in? Didn’t matter. Point was, even with the chaos and dark energy clouding the very air, she couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in that city. Like that was where she was always meant to end up, where she could thrive and the environment that she was made to thrive in. The environment that she was born to start fixing.

She beamed at herself in her bathroom mirror as she gave herself one more once-over. Yeah, so far her visit to Gotham was going much better than she could have hoped. Now, she just had to make sure it stayed that way.

Three businesslike raps sounded against the door to her room, just in time for Marinette to feed Tikki one more cookie and straighten her purse on her shoulder. Madame Mendelieve’s voice called out from the other side of the door in her usual no-nonsense bark;

“Dupain-Cheng! Room check! It’s time to get up, we’re meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes.”

Marinette ran up to the door, not quite able to contain her energy, and swung it open with her trademark large, beaming smile.

“Way ahead of you, Madame Mendelieve!”

Her science teacher blinked, adjusting her glasses on her nose as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Ah. You’re already awake and ready?”

Marinette giggled and nodded. “Yup! I was so excited for the tour that I could barely sleep! Does the hotel breakfast include free coffee?”

—*—*—*—*—*

The hotel breakfast did, in fact, include coffee. What it did not include, however, was free coffee that Marinette could reasonably stomach. Especially after the heaven in a cup that Red Robin had gotten for her earlier, the watered down motor oil in the hotel lobby had been unbearable. She had barely managed two sips before regretfully throwing the rest away. Which is what brought her to stand in line at the very same coffee shop that Red Robin had mentioned was in the main hall of Wayne Enterprises, as the rest of her class mingled and waited for their teachers to check their tour group in and their tour guide to arrive.

“Hmm. Sorry, this is my first time ordering here,” she apologized when she reached the counter, gaining a slight lopsided grin from the barista at the register. “Um, I usually like strong coffee, with a lot of caffeine, but I also like something sweet. I don’t need anything too complicated though, do you have any recommendations?”

The barista gave her a customer service smile that seemed just a tad softer at the edges than usual. “Sure! So, we can add an extra shot or two of espresso to any of our drinks, to make it stronger and give it an extra kick. If you’re looking for good sweet flavors, the classics are our white chocolate or caramel. But we also have a seasonal syrup right now that I personally love, which is our cinnamon butterscotch. Did you wanna try that?”

Marinette smiled widely. “That sounds delicious! Then, if I could have your largest size café latte, hot, with… two extra shots and that syrup? Does that sound good?”

The barista actually let loose a soft laugh, already keying in the order. “If you’re a coffee lover and a sweet tooth at the same time, then you’ll love it. If not, come back during your tour’s lunch break and I’ll make you something else.”

Marinette made a little more small talk as she handed over the proper cash for the order, and grabbed her drink after just another minute’s wait. She turned around, taking a sip of the unsurprisingly heavenly coffee and started off to join her class.

Only to realize none of them were where she had left them. She sighed, starting to reach into her purse to see if anyone had texted her about where they were going, but a heavy presence stopped her. She could feel him approaching from in front of her, slightly to her right, but she couldn’t hear him at all. On guard, she straightened up and turned to observe the potential threat.

A security guard. Marinette blinked, running over what she had been told earlier that morning. Was he..?

He seemed to notice her instinctually defensive posture because he raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he apologized. “I’m the guard that was assigned to your tour group. I offered to stay behind until you got your coffee while the rest of your group went ahead and got the run-down on all the boring rules and whatnot of the tour. Figured you’d already know everything they had to say anyway, you’re the class president right?”

Marinette relaxed her posture, nodding and sending the man a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Well, that explains why they left without me then. Usually Madame Mendelieve is strict about following rules though, how’d you convince her to go on without me?”

The man chuckled, jerking his head to show that she should follow him as he began to lead the way to a side door. Marinette kept her guard up just in case, but wasn’t too worried. If nothing else, she was still in the middle of a super crowded building and the other security guards around didn’t seem concerned. She could easily yell for help if she needed to.

“Well, can’t you tell it was my devilish charm?” He teased, grinning. He waited until she rolled her eyes to continue; “but really, I’m like a second tour guide. She made me show a lotta proof that I’m actually assigned to you guys and not just faking it, not that I can blame her. Eventually she saw the logic in my suggestion and agreed. See, there they are,” he pointed casually ahead of them in the large side hallway they had entered. Sure enough, near the end of the hallway was her class at what looked to be the tail-end of a standard rules-and-guidelines speech from the tour guide. “By the way,” the guard spoke up again, holding his hand out. “My name’s Jason. You’ll be seeing me more often, since I’m supposed to guard you guys for all of your visits to the Tower. Call me if you need help with anything, ‘kay kid?”

Marinette grinned, now positive that this guy really was the guard that Red Robin had said was assigned to her class. She switched the hand she was holding her coffee in so that she could properly grab Jason’s hand for a shake.

“Got it, Monsieur Jason. Let’s both hope I don’t end up needing your help though, I think that would be easier on both of us,” she joked, earning a chuckle from the large man. And— yeah, now that she was relaxed, he really was big, wasn’t he? Then again, Marinette didn’t always realize when people were a bit larger or more buff than they should be. Living with her dad had seriously skewed her perception of the normal size of an adult male (which, she learned when she was seven, most definitely was not almost seven feet tall and muscled enough to make a pro wrestler jealous). But she would like to think she had gotten better in that aspect, and Jason was definitely a big guy. A little over six feet tall, she thought, and though the guard outfit hid a good portion of his physique, she could tell he carried enough muscle to do serious damage if he wanted to.

With a wave, she left him to join her class and sipped at her latte. She had figured that the Bat Clan’s criteria for civilians that they would put to guard her class had to be high, but now she had to wonder just how high. Most police officers or security guards were fit, sure, but not like Jason. Casting a quick glance back at him, she confirmed that he had quite a few faded but visible scars. Again, more than your average officer even for Gotham. Who had they tasked with her class’ safety, exactly?

An elbow in her side distracted her from her thoughts, forcing her to blink and stop her cup from going back to her lips. The grin of none other than Adrien Agreste greeted her when she snapped out of her own head long enough to pay attention to her surroundings. He jerked his head to indicate that the class was already starting to move off.

“Come on, Mari or you’ll get left behind again,” he teased. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes but falling into step beside him as they followed at the back of their class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gonna marry that coffee. You haven’t zoned out that badly in years,” his tone was light and cheery, but Marinette didn’t miss the concern in his emerald eyes. She sighed, gently bumping her shoulders against his in silent reassurance.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. But this really is good coffee. Elixir of the gods,” then, just to provoke him, she took a giant gulp of the still steaming hot drink. Adrien grimaced in pained sympathy even though Marinette didn’t seem affected at all.

“Oww, Marineeeeeeeeeette,” he whined. “Don’t do that, my throat hurts just watching you guzzle hot coffee like that,” he complained, rubbing at his neck to make his point clear.

“Wimp,” she teased, unrepentant. Adrien just groaned dramatically.

“I’m not a wimp, you’re just concerningly used to burning your throat from the inside out,” he accused. “Anyway, how’d it go?” He was being deliberately vague, but it was obvious to her what he meant. He was only one she had told about visiting her mom, after all, just in case she needed a quick getaway.

In fact, he was the only one of her friends that she had even told about her biological parents. Alix knew too, but only because of time shenanigans. Marinette was fine with it now, but still.

“It went great,” she smiled widely at him, keeping her voice low but casual. “If I have a chance, I’ll introduce you sometime during the trip. I have a feeling you’ll love Auntie Selina, but I have to meet her first. All I have so far are stories.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed easily. “But you don’t have to, you know that right? I’d love to meet your family, but I’m also fine just being your pseudo-brother like I have been up until now. I know it might be a bit… uncomfortable, for you.”

“Nah,” Marinette shrugged. “Nerve wracking, maybe. But that’s also about half the things that I do in my life period, anxiety is no joke. I’ll catastrophize for a while, but I know you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Sounds like they have paw-some taste,” he didn’t even miss a beat with his puns, earning a playful glare for his efforts.

“Never mind. You’re a heathen. Disowned. Who are you?”

“Mariiiiii,” he whined, causing them both to laugh for a while before focusing on the tour.

So far, so good, Marinette thought.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1 Part 2

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