#so i kind of trust his alcoholic beverage judgement less

[isdalinarhot]

apparently bourbon is made of corn. which i didnt know. decided to look up corn on wikipedia to make sure i wasnt talking out of my ass. HOWEVER. in whatever the fuck scene where veil is drinking undyed sapphire its clear. and not bourbon colored. sapphire is cheap vodka 1 sapphire is whiskey 1 theyre tied because of nazh's stupid ass

[elysianrey]

what could be as lonely as love?

[part two of it’s a slow cinnamon summer. read part 1]

(a/n: Y’ALL. I JUST DELETED THE ORIGINAL POST. I’m so mad at myself... if you liked this or reblogged it sometime yesterday or today...feel free to do it again. The feedback i’ve gotten has honestly been the best. You guys are amazing. I will try to get part 3 up tomorrow. xoxo Content T+)

In the weeks following the secret lake party, Josie decided to throw a small get together at her house for their group of friends. Although Anne did not necessarily consider herself a friend of Josie’s, Ruby had begged and pleaded in the wake of Diana’s absence, especially since Moody was going to be there, and the two had been spending an awful lot of time together. Ruby was convinced that it would only be a matter of days before they officially began courting. Anne could find it within herself to be grateful that Ruby had given up her lifelong pining of Gilbert, however, the reasons why were still not entirely clear to her. 

But she knew it had something to do with that night at the lake, where she was beginning to see him as potentially more than a friend. And it frightened her.

Josie spared no expense in ensuring her friends had plates of food and many glasses of punch to help them enjoy the midsummer evening. After one glass, Ruby was giggling uncontrollably at a joke Moody had made and by glass two she was sobbing hysterically at a song he was strumming on his banjo. 

This was when she understood exactly just what kind of beverage this punch had in it, and she took it upon herself to drink enough until the movements of her body felt looser and her mind was a little less sad. Marilla trusted her judgement and Anne had grown far wiser when it came to drinking alcohol since the day when Diana and her consumed a whole bottle of raspberry cordial. She smiled reminiscently at the memory as she swirled the orange liquid in her glass and finished the rest with a silent toast to her bosom friend, hoping that she was savoring her time in France. 

Deciding she had enough of the girls’ dramatics, Anne slipped outside of the house into the clear, July evening that she was fixed on enjoying properly. 

She found herself trailing delightedly through the Pye’s enormous garden, the scent of blooming roses wafting through the twilight air and encompassing her slightly buzzed senses. Giggling lowly, she closed her eyes and attempted to follow the direction of that glorious smell with solely the use of her nose. She reached her arms out to feel for the delicate texture of a petal as she continued further into the maze of tall bushes. 

“Where, oh where, are you my lovely friends?” she called out joyfully into the nature surrounding her. For the most part, she was doing well to avoid running into the walls of bushes, but occasionally she walked headlong into one and had to use her vision by slightly squinting open one eye to redirect her path. The several glasses of punch she drank with her classmates seemed to be helping her discover the world in a new light tonight and she could not resist feeling grateful for it.

Eventually, her fingers found the source of her elation, and she knew she had made her discovery when she felt not only the feather-soft, smoothness of rose petals, but also the prickly thorns that accompanied them. Gasping from the slight ache on her pointer finger from the unexpected sharpness, Anne let her eyes drift open fully to appreciate the hundreds of red blooms that lay before her.

“Ah, there you are,” she grinned cheerily, sticking her finger in her mouth to stop the small drop of blood that had formed. “You are especially marvelous tonight with your velvety red petals and deliciously smelling perfume.” She dropped her hand to glide along the tops of the flowers and revelled in their feel.

“Anne?” 

The girl heard her name, yet her jubilant ministrations on the rose bushes continued. 

“Anne is that you?”

Pausing this time, she turned slowly to face the owner of the curious, low voice. Before her sat Gilbert Blythe, glass of punch in his hand, resting comfortably on an elegant wired bench that was almost humorously too petite for his large, broad form. At this realization, Anne let out an amused laugh, her mind still rather loose from the alcohol she had consumed.

Gilbert’s eyebrow raised in perplexity, his eyes looking bright and content in the dimming evening air. The side of his mouth quirked upwards, revealing half of a smile, as Anne’s laughter began to grow louder and harder until she was clutching her side in a desperate attempt to keep herself from toppling onto the green ground. 

“Oh Gilbert,” Anne choked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she choked for air. “I--you--” she attempted again, pushing the falling tendrils of coppery hair back from her face. “That bench you’re sitting on--it looks as it could nearly topple in half at any moment.” If only her brain would have allowed her to consider the words coming out of her mouth…

“Anne Shirely-Cuthbert,” Gilbert chuckled, quite entertained at this girl before him. “Are you calling me fat?” His face broke into a wide, dimpled smile that Anne could not help but saunter toward slightly, her feet moving on their own accord. 

“I would never,” she playfully gasped, stopping directly in front of him so that she could get a better look at his dapper features. This was the happiest she had seen him look in a long time, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the drink in his hand. It had certainly aided in lowering her inhibitions.  “I am positive that your big ego could do that all on it’s own.”

His face twisted into a mock expression of hurt and Anne’s laughter returned, a melodious tune ringing in his ears. “My ego may never return to the size it once was after a remark like that, Anne,” he grinned, his eyes staring fondly into hers. He brought his glass up to his lips for another sip of his drink.

Anne watched as his lips curled around the rim of the glass, an unwelcome heat forming in the pit of her stomach. These were not details about him she would usually notice and she tried her best to redirect her line of thinking onto something less romantical. 

“Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do, Gil? Touch your hair,” she gingerly stated. Great, Anne. That was just the perfectly normal comment to say to someone who was definitely not your romantic partner.

She watched his shoulders tense and the lighthearted expression on his face faltered enough for her to notice. “Anne,” he replied in a tone that denied everything his body had already told her. “How many drinks have you had tonight?”

Anne crossed her arms, irritation building in her chest. For him to think that she needed to be drunk to say something like she wanted to touch his hair. The nerve. “Why is it of your concern? I’ll have you know that I am entirely in control of my thoughts and actions, thank you very much,” came her terse response.

He glanced away from her, not buying into what she had told him, however, he would not dare tell her that for he was a bit tipsy himself.

Anne waited crossly until he finished the drink in his hand, which he was gulping down this time. No longer caring that she would later regret a majority of the choices she was going to make from this point forward, the freckled girl stared boldly at him gulp down his drink, his adam’s apple bobbing, wanting nothing more than to prove him wrong.

The heat in the pit of her stomach had returned, and was growing until she could feel it everywhere. Her whole body was hot and it was all because of him. The handsome boy in front of her with his deep, warm eyes that constantly brought reassurance in her moments of doubt, the spotted beauty marks on his face that she wished to count and connect to form new constellations, and that hair. His dark, wild head of curls that folded in every direction, and had been tempting her to reach out and run her fingers through for weeks now. The jealousy she had felt all because of those water droplets that had clung to it that night. 

When he turned his head back toward her, he seemed to pick up on the newfound intensity in her sparkling blue eyes. He rivaled her dark scrutiny with a matching expression of his own.

“So may I?” she asked once again, her chin tilting up to signal that she was not going to relinquish this quest.

“Fine.” His retort was clipped and unfeeling, which left Anne further annoyed that he was acting childish about simply granting her this one wish.

Normally, she was not the selfish type. She was always ready to leave her work at the drop of a hat and run off to help someone in need. But not today. No, in this secluded section of Josie Pye’s garden, filled up on a little too much spiked punch, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was bound and determined to get her way. 

She sealed the distance between them, inching forward until her knees brushed against his. Despite the fabric separating them, her skin burned hot enough that she almost stumbled backward. Quickly steadying herself, she reached out a tentative hand that ghosted along the side of his head. Anne was trying her hardest not to look at Gilbert for she had a sinking suspicion that she would know exactly what she would see if she looked into his eyes. Her hand trembled as she moved her fingertips ever so slowly along the tips of his hair.

Then she brought her fingers into his curly locks and he let out a small gasp of pent up air that she feared had come from her mouth instead because as she touched his hair lightly with one hand, her heart nearly exploded out of her chest cavity in trepidation. His silky strands were everything that she imagined and more. It was as if she were running her hands along the tall wildflowers that grew in the fields near Green Gables. She began to lightly twist a finger around a strand and she watched as it coiled gracefully to her request and then bounce back to its original form. However, one hand coursing through his luscious, sleek hair was not enough for her, and Anne raised her other hand to continue her analysis. As that hand landed on his head, Gilbert’s hands were suddenly grabbing ahold of her waist.

Anne immediately froze, her tender exploration coming to a halt as she inhaled sharply at the contact. She looked straight ahead at the green shrubbery before her and her fuzzy brain wondered if he was going to let go. He did not. Yet she would be a liar if she tried to deny that she didn’t enjoy the slight pressure his large hands were currently presenting on her waist. Reluctantly removing her hands from his hair, she brought them down to hover on top of his hands instead, still not meeting his gaze. 

That’s when she heard a whisper, barely loud enough for her ears to register, and quite desperate, “Anne.”

And for the second time that evening, the copper-haired girl was selfish and finally gave in to what she wanted, no matter how insane the desire was, her blood pumping furiously throughout her body with courage. Closing her eyes, she swiftly pressed her lips against his, sunbursts of light exploding behind her eyelids. A noise of shock bubbled out of Gilbert’s throat at first, then he was pulling her closer to him and her body was wedged between his legs quite scandalously, but when had she ever been one to care about what society deemed as proper?

Here she was, heatedly kissing the most beautiful boy she had ever met, and he was returning her advances with all of the passion and fervor she had ever dreamed of. His lips were slightly chapped, however they felt nearly as soft as his hair that her fingers had returned to, and when she pulled at it, a low moan reverberated in the back of his throat, and Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was confident that Gilbert Blythe was going to be the reason for her undoing. 

Finally pulling back, Gilbert leaned his forehead against hers and looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Anne-girl,” he murmured breathlessly, a hand coming up from her waist and caressing the freckles on her cheek with his knuckles. Anne’s heart soared from hearing his affectionate nickname spoken from his lips in such a delicate manner. “I think you’ve made your point,” he added with a quirk of his lips. 

“Hmm...I’m not sure I have,” she teased lightheartedly, tugging again at the dark strands, which prompted Gilbert to go in for another stolen kiss. She ended it quickly though by pulling away from his embrace from where he sat on the bench and taking a distancing set away from him. “We should be getting back to the house. It’s getting late.” Her mind felt like it was becoming clearer. Anne would have tried to walk back by herself, but the game she had made up to find the roses had ultimately left her lost in this garden.

Gilbert could not help hiding the look of disappointment that crossed his face at her abrupt request after the moment they had shared. He rose and offered her his arm, which she accepted graciously with a placid smile, and they started in the direction from which they initially came in silence, neither seeming to know quite what to say.

“If I behaved immodestly--” she blurted out anxiously, keeping her eyes directed toward the ground. Now that the alcohol was wearing off, rational Anne, who knew how to behave in the presence of a boy, a friend, was returning.

The boy walking beside her let out an incredulous huff. “You didn’t Anne and if I did anything to lead you---”

“Absolutely not Gil,” Anne broke in vigorously, lifting her eyes to meet his with a calm assurance. As much as it pained her to say it, she added, “I think I just need some time to think and process some of the events that conspired tonight.”

Gilbert’s voice sounded tight as he hollowly agreed, “Yes, of course.” This did not do much to aid the guilt she felt in the pit of her stomach during the rest of the walk to the house. 

He did not say a word and neither did she. 

+++++

The journey back to Green Gables with him by her side was just as quiet and tense, which was very unlike them. Usually they talked far beyond their arrival at the front gate of her home, to the point where Marilla was calling for Anne to come inside the house. Tonight, Gilbert gave her a brief ‘Goodnight’ and turned in the opposite direction toward the Blythe Farm. Anne stood at the gate, watching him go until she could no longer see his broad outline, her throat feeling exceptionally dry. Not like when his lips had been dragging along hers only hours prior. She briefly considered shouting out to him and working to talk this whole situation out. Explain that she had wanted it to happen so badly. Yet he had shut himself off to her because she had hurt him by not saying more.

Here it was, the regret. She was a foolish girl, Marilla was right.

Sighing loudly, Anne opened the gate and made her way into Green Gables. She had assured Matthew and Marilla that she would be alright without them waiting up for her tonight so they were fast asleep in their beds. 

When she got to her room, she shut the door quietly and flopped down on her bed, biting down on her bottom lip, hard, in an effort to keep the tears welling up in her eyes from spilling. It was no use. All she could picture was Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert. The way his mouth tasted, how he made every nerve in her body act on their own accord, the noises he made because of her. 

She knew sleep would be futile tonight.

[blasphoeme]

Flowers for Papa

For Jonerys Week Day 1: Home & Family

Summary: For so long, it’s always been Jon who brought her flowers but this time, Dany decides that it should be her turn. While Jon is on his way home, she prepares his welcome home surprise and requires some help. Thankfully, three young Targaryens are more than eager to lend her a hand in laying out the finishing touches to welcome their papa home.

Part 6 of my Flowers for His Queen series. This can be read on Ao3 too~

Mood board once again created in collaboration with @midqueenally. Never could have done it without your help hehe. Thank you, Iris :)

I hope you guys like this! XD Enjoy~

It was yet another peaceful day in Kings Landing. The sun was shining with nought a cloud in the sky. In the nursery of the Red Keep, the three Targaryen children were enjoying a quiet afternoon of play with their babysitter for the day while their mother took some time to plan a welcome home surprise for her husband’s return from his trip to the North. It was the first time he’s left his family since the twins were born and to be away for two whole weeks, his family missed him dearly.

“This is a lion.” Aedon’s chubby hands held up a wooden lion figurine, one of ten hand whittled wooden animals by their father’s advisor and friend, Ser Davos, for the twins’ second birthday. Grinning, Aedon offered it to their uncle who lounged upon the chaise by the window of the nursery, his usual goblet of wine in hand.

Patting the child on the cheek, the queen’s trusted hand nodded, his voice a bit slurry from his drink. “Yes. You are quite right. That is a lion.”

With a huff the child toddled off the find his family’s direwolf guardian to show off his toys to. Little feet took Aedon over to the wolf, lying beside his big sister. It’s watchful red ruby eyes temporarily hidden from view as he rested. His bushy tail occasionally flicking and thumping against the stone floor as he rested. His ears twitched slightly hearing the little boy’s not so sneaky approach.

“Ghost, look at what I got!” The boy stood on tip toes, stretching his arm up as high as he could, brandishing the toy by the wolf’s snout. The direwolf opened his eyes and sniffed at the boy’s hand before sticking out his tongue, giving Aedon’s face a good licking. “Ghost!” The child squealed, dropping the figurine. His tiny hands now free, clenched into fists by his head, clutching at the white strands of fur as he hid his face in the wolf’s side, trying in vain to avoid the sloppy kisses. The wolf diverted the kisses to the boy’s mop of curly silver hair, styling it into whorls of cowlicks.

The eldest of the three Targaryen children was absorbed in coloring a piece of art she had drawn of their dragons soaring over the ocean that ran the fringe of the capital they called home. “Like dragons and wolves, lions are known to be fearsome. Quite like you, uncle Tyrion!” Elwynn perked up from her coloring. Her bare feet kicking in the air as she lay on her belly.

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself fearsome.” The tiny imp fearsome? Tyrion touched the scar that ran down his face. Most people would argue against that for sure, call him a coward more than anything. Although, these days he couldn’t care less for the opinions of others who didn’t matter to him. “But thank you dear child for thinking so. I must admit I do have some fine moments of bravery.” Those who he could now call his friends mattered and they accepted him for who he was, for his wisdom and capabilities. After so long, he finally felt accepted surrounded by the right company.

The princess grinned a toothy grin at him. These young ones were some of those who mattered to him. Children were innocent. They held not a trace of judgement towards anyone they met. Everyone was a person, an equal who deserved kindness. Children spoke their minds, with a frankness that was so refreshing, providing a short reprieve from having to put up appearances and plot schemes. Spending time with these three toddlers also filled a bit of the void that his family had left behind.

Arielle tugged at his sleeve from her seated position on the carpet, her book of children stories sliding from her lap as she moved to sit on her feet. She hadn’t learn all of her letters yet to read a whole book on her own yet but she loved to look at the pictures of dragons, brave warrior knights and princesses atop of towers. “What are you drinking?”

“Wine, little dragon.” Tyrion ruffled her silver curls idly.

“What is wine?”

The young princess had an inquisitive mind, much like her siblings, her whole family in fact. Must be a Targaryen thing. Her questions knew no end. Plus her love of books, she could grow to be a scholar. Tyrion regarded his goblet of wine for a few moments before replying: “Well, it’s a drink made from crushed grapes or other types of fruit fermented over a long period of time.”

“Ohhhh…” Arielle nodded, her head bobbing up and down.

Swirling the plum colored liquid around his goblet before he took a sip, allowing the velvety, bitter fluid to coat his palate before swallowing. It flowed down his throat leaving behind a fruity aromatic aftertaste in his mouth. Delicious, he thought with a smack of his lips. This bottle truly was his masterpiece. Tyrion wasn’t sure how much a three year old understood about fermentation and wine in general but it was never too early to learn the art in his opinion. “Come closer children.” He said gesturing the children over. The three children scooted closer to sit by his feet, looking up intently at him.

“Listen, while I teach you the wonders of wine.“ Propping himself up on an elbow, Tyrion took a hearty gulp of his drink before beginning his lesson. “Wine is a most marvellous invention of man. The Egyptians used to believe that vines that grapes grew on, sprang from the blood of the brave fallen warriors who battled with the gods. Another tale they believed was that, the goddess of war, Sekmhet had a thirst for blood of the fallen warriors. In order to placate the goddess from further destruction of humanity, humans tricked her into drinking copious amounts of an identical colored blood red liquid which many believed to be….” Tyrion waved his hand over his cup. “Wine.”

His audience gasped, completely entralled by his story telling.

“Also, wine was considered to have divine qualities, drunk only by royalty.” Another sip and lord Tyrion’s eyes took on a far away look. ”When drunk, it can both awaken and numb the senses when needed. Your worries, pains can be drowned out and replaced with a moment of blissful numbness.” Leaning in closer to his audience, with the scent of alcohol on his tongue, he disclosed a crucial technique: “Sometimes, when needed, it can be fed to your enemies to extract information as well.”

The young children listened with enraptured interest. Their mouths hung open in wonder. Curiosity piqued, Arielle felt the need to get her hands on that miraculous beverage sloshing around in the cup right inhere line of vision. “Can we have some? Is it tasty?”

“Hmmm…. I’m not sure it’s healthily appropriate for children.” If their mother found out he had given her babies alcohol, she’d probably be really cross. An angry dragon mother was not fun to be around. He’d seen it more than enough times to know. “I don’t think you would like it very much. It’s an acquired taste. You can have a sniff if you’d like.” Tyrion held the goblet out for the child’s nose to reach, holding back a snigger at the reaction that he knew was to come. Arielle took a deep whiff.

“Ugh! Yuck!” She exclaimed, pushing the goblet away from her face.

“I wanna sniff too!” Not wanting to lose out to his twin sister, Aedon eagerly shoved his head forwards to reach the cup. Tyrion sniggered, going along with the prince’s wishes. He offered the cup to the boy.

Nostrils flaring, the boy took a sniff and then promptly gagged. Tyrion’s body was overcome with a fit of chortling laughter, watching their tiny faces contort in disgust.

Knowing better, Elwynn shook her head, pushing the goblet away when her uncle offered it to her, his eyebrows were waggling. “Mama says it’s not good for your liver. You could die from too much alcohol. You shouldn’t drink so much, uncle.”

Tyrion blanched, even the babies were telling him to put off drinking. Should he really start doing that, he wondered. Besides helping with the Queen when she needed his counsel, life was rather looking on the up and ups. He’d even gotten the chance to start his own vinery, complete with a vineyard, producing his very own brand of wine, the Imp’s Delight. He didn’t need to drink himself into a drunken stupor whilst wallowing in the misery of his life anymore, that much was true. Drinking had become more of a leisurely pleasure to him now, something to be shared with a friend over a nice meal. “Hmm…. if I stop drinking, I’d lose my motto! I can’t drink and know things anymore. Now we don’t want that do we?”

Elwynn suggested: “You could drink less and still know things, right?”

Tyrion chuckled. “I’ll consider it.”

“She is right you know. You really should drink less.” A voice came from the doorway to the nursery. The children looked up and instantly bolted to its owner with a chorus of “mama!”s.

The dragon queen fell to her knees, almost automatically, her arms unfurled, welcoming her children into her embrace with a warm smile. She hugged them close, inhaling the scent of strawberries and fresh cream from their bath soap. Her heart filled with warmth and bloomed with love for her children. Holding them close, feeling their arms return her hug around her neck and torso reminded her of how grateful she was once again for being blessed with these beautiful, precious gifts that were her offspring. “Hello, my babies.” Dany cooed. She proceeded to grab hold of their faces, peppering each chubby, cherubic cheek with kisses in greeting, making them squirm and giggle.

With one last peck to their foreheads, Dany slipped her hands into Elwynn‘s and Aedon’s smaller ones. She got to her feet with Arielle hugging her waist. Swinging their joint hands gently, she looked down at the three pairs of purple eyes that mirrored her own and asked: “Have you been good for uncle Tyrion?”

Her question was met with resounding ‘yes’s.

Tyrion sat up, greeting his queen with a nod. “Your Grace.”

“Lord Tyrion.” Dany greeted her hand with a smile as she walked over to the chaise, gaggle of children in tow. Arielle waited for their mama to sit down before toddling forward. She sat on her feet, resting her little head atop her mama’s knees, her hands lay folded over one another propping her chin up to observe the two adults. Elwynn climbed up the chaise and settled herself comfortably into Dany’s side before helping Aedon up too. Dany smiled adoringly at her children, fingers of one hand reaching down to straighten the pink bow on the side of Arielle’s silver head. Her other hand proceeded to smooth down Elwynn’s wild raven curls, adding a tap to Aedon’s button nose, before coming to settle around her eldest child who cradled her baby brother in her lap.

Turning to her Hand, Dany inquired: “I hope you haven’t been informing my children about what lies at the bottom of a bottle, have you?”

“I wouldn’t dare, your Grace. Not to you.” Tyrion smirked. “I was simply educating them about the numerous uses a good bit of wine could provide.” He reassured the queen, a twinkle alit in his eyes.

Seated side by side like this, Dany recalled her last day in Meereen. They sat just like this as well, on the steps by the side of her throne room on the day she named Tyrion Lannister her Hand, the day she joined the great game for the Iron Throne. She would always be thankful for his belief in her, for supporting her vision for a better future, thankful for his counsel and guidance, thankful for his friendship. “We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”

“Yes, we have.” Tyrion let out a quiet sigh. “And what a journey it has been.”

The queen nodded, feeling that familiar sense of forlornness, that old friend who sometimes dropped by for a visit unannounced when the nights were typically dreary. They each had lost so much along the way. This road to breaking the wheel had not been an easy one, with death, war and bloodshed spattered throughout. Every each and one of them who was lucky enough to make it out alive, from the ragtag group of leaders, to their people and the soldiers they lead into a battle against thousands of dead men had each lost a piece of themselves as the price for their survival. Then came the penultimate war, fiercer than the last— the battle for the Throne. As the dust settled after the reclamation of the throne, a new future was in the making. Old wounds brought about new mended scars. The hands of pain and loss had carved invisible yet permanent scars on their skins, even more so, on their hearts.

“But we’re still here. Alive and well. Moving on a path to pave the way to a brighter future for the generations to come.” Tyrion digressed, nudging Dany’s arm gently in hopes to lift her spirits. “Besides, if it weren’t for the past, we wouldn’t have the present now would we?” Reclining fully once more on the chaise, he added with a nonchalant shrug: “And the present is looking pretty good. “

The queen and her hand shared a smile. He was right as usual. Life was finally good. She had a place to seek solace from those dreary nights in the arms of her dear husband and three babies whom she could give all her love to, unconditionally.

Little hands patting at her arm broke their conversation. “What is it, my sweet?” Dany asked giving Arielle’s chin a chuck.

“When is papa coming home?” Arielle asked. “I hope it’s soon. I miss the two of you telling us bedtime stories.” She pouted, her bottom lip sticking out pitifully. The king and his queen had a nightly routine of putting their children to bed with a story of their choosing.

“Yes, we haven’t seen papa in forever!” Aedon drawled, throwing his hands up in the air before collapsing into Elwynn’s arms. Aedon missed their play fighting. He missed sharing his toys with his papa and his wooden sword missed the clang against his father’s.

Elwynn giggled holding her brother to her. Ellie missed their trainings. Aside from sword fighting, Papa had just started couching her on using the bow and arrow. Thinking for a moment, she counted the days in her head. Her papa promised that he’d come back within two weeks. He’d been gone for… thirteen, fourteen days now. She gasped in realization. “He’s coming back today isn’t he? I counted the days!” Elwynn exclaimed in excitement, her purple eyes large and shining with glee.

“Really, mama? Really?” The twins whipped their head around to look at her simultaneously, wearing identical wide-eyed, slack mouth expressions on their faces.

Dany couldn’t hold back an amused smile. Her darling children were such a joy to watch. Their faces held nothing back, revealed everything they felt so clearly. Their eyes showed everything that was running through their minds. They held no secrets in their purity.

“Yes, my babies. He’ll be arriving home soon,” informed their mother.

“Hooray!!!” The children yelled. Grabbing onto each other’s hands, the children shot to their feet and began spinning in a circle happily. Their dresses and hair bouncing up and down as they jumped. Sensing their excitement, Ghost joined in their cheer, running around them, his tail wagging back and forth behind him.

“I’d best be getting a move on.” Tyrion shouted to Dany over the ruckus. “I have a certain grape harvester to rendezvous with.” He pushed himself off the chaise, side stepping around the jumping children and ambled over to the door. “A very pretty, very feminine grape harvester to be exact. Say hello to Jon for me!” Tossing a wink at Dany over his shoulder, he yanked the door open, bottle of wine still grasped in his hand. Shaking her head at his retreating figure, Dany laughed as he slipped out the door. Typical Tyrion.

“Children!” With a clap of her hands, Dany called to them. “And Ghost, of course.” All three heads plus their wolf swiveled to look at her. “I need your help.”

The azure waves glittered under the sun as the king flew across the vast open ocean. After a full two days of travel and two whole weeks without his family, he was almost there. Each flap of the dragon’s wings took him closer and closer to his destination which he could see growing in the distance.

Home.

Down in the gardens, three children and their mother meandered through the huge hedge maze that their father had designed for them. The hedges were planted since before the twins were born and within three years, the fast growing plants grew and grew to its current state, standing at five feet. The maze was built around an old lemon tree on a field of dandelions. The couple had found this location one day, shortly after moving in to the Red Keep. They wandered through the gardens exploring. Neither of them had been there before so they made it a point to get to know their new home. Taking a turn they reached a vastly different part of the gardens, the area looked unmanned, like no one had cared for it for years. Unkempt grass grew wild, vines and thorny brambles climbed all over the walls. As they walked on, they came to a clearing and right in the middle stood a lemon tree. Though it was not bearing any fruit at the time, Dany had recognised it immediately from her dreams and that vague hint of lemon wafting from the leaves as they drew closer. She had fallen in love with it instantly. For so long, ever since she was a child, the representation of home to her had always included a lemon tree. That afternoon, the king and queen sat under it, making plans for their future together which included how they would create the perfect little nook for their children to play in.

“This is a bit scary” Aedon gulped. His pouty pink lips wobbled slightly as he curled his fingers around his twin’s.

Little Aedon was usually quite courageous but being only a child of three everything seemed so much larger. The leafy green walls of the maze loomed overhead almost as if they were about to close in and swallow him up whole.

The girls however, weren’t the least bit phased. “Don’t be scared, big brother! This is exciting!” Arielle tightened her grip on his hand. “It’s an avent… adve…” A little furrow appeared between her brows. Tugging on Dany’s skirt, the princess asked: ”Mama? What’s the word again?”

“Adventure, my darling.”

“Adventure.” Parroted the princess with a firm nod. Her silver curls bouncing with her bobbing head.  

“Yeah! We have the blood of the wolves in our veins and fire of the dragons in our bellies, we’ll be fine. Just follow me.” Elwynn knew the way like the back of her hand, having explored every inch of the maze since the day the hedges were rooted into the soil, when the short shrubs had only a few leaves attached to their branches. “Here.” Sticking out her hands, Elwynn offered it to her brother and sister. “We’ll hold hands. That way we won’t get separated and you can hold on tightly if you get scared.”

Smiling, the twins placed their hands in hers. Fear gone without a trace, replaced with a renewed enthusiasm.

“Let’s go!” Elwynn cheered, pulling a giggling Arielle and Aedon along with her as she marched on ahead. “Mama! Come on!”

“Be careful, Ellie! Don’t go too far,” Admonished their mother. She wanted keep a protective eye on her babies just in case something happened to them. At the same time, she couldn’t suppress the strong sense of pride that expanded within her chest. Her children were everything she’d hoped for and more. They were kind, bright, brave and most of all they loved each other. She only hoped that it would remain that way and that they would care for each other regardless of the influences they will no doubt face from the people they meet and the ordeals they will stumble upon when they grew older.

“Alright, mama.” Elwynn hollered. The children slowed down and waited for their mama to catch up with them. Then, they made their way together through the twists and turns of the maze to the exit and into the field.

Settling the basket of flowers she held in her hands along with her trusty old tome of flower meanings by the lemon tree, Dany said to her children: “Here’s what we’re going to do.” Kneeling in front of them, from the basket of five different bunches of flowers, she retrieved three bunches and handed them to the children. “We’re going hide these flowers in the maze for your papa to find.”

“Hide and seek!” Aedon chirped.

“In a way, yes. A scavenger hunt to be exact.” Dany couldn’t resist giving his protruding little belly a light poke, enticing a high-pitched yip from the boy. His sisters shared a look dripping with mischief and decided to launch a tickle fest to their brother’s mid section.

Aedon’s childish surprised shrieks filled the air as he covered his belly with his hands, batting at their fingers. His little face gradually flushed red as he bowed over, giggling.

Watching her children tease and play with each other, Dany couldn’t help feel a bit envious. Growing up, she wondered why she didn’t have more than one sibling. Maybe if she had another sister or brother, Viserys wouldn’t have vented all his frustrations on her, the sole outlet of release for his anger. In retrospect though, she wouldn’t wish that on any child. Her brother wasn’t the nicest big brother, but she still remembered the good times, the times when they were little, when they’d have fun together in the house with the red door, before any semblance of their childhood evaporated and was replaced with so much anger, discontent and greed.

For her children, she wished that their childhood would last a long time. That they would have ample chance to experience what it is like to live a carefree life in a peaceful world, with no need to flee from city to city, with no hardship and no pain, in this new world that she’s fought so hard to change.

Eventually, his laughter began to transition into tears. Clearing her throat, Dany put on her sternest mum’s voice. “Girls, that’s enough. Let your brother go.”

The princesses relented, moving their hands away from a now weepy, teary Aedon. Hiccupping, he stumbled over to his mother. “Mama…”

“Hush, my sweet boy. You’re alright.” Dany wrapped him up snug in her arms, brushing back his silver locks from his face, rubbing a palm up and down his back, hoping to sooth the poor child. “Girls, I think we may have went a bit overboard, haven’t we?”

Elwynn nodded, rocking back and forth on her feet looking sheepishly at her brother. “I’m sorry for tickling you so much.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Arielle reached for her brother’s hand. “I didn’t know you would cry.”

“I shouldn’t have started it.” Dany planted a kiss to Aedon’s flushed cheek. “I’m sorry as well. Forgive me?” Dany murmured, her heart aching at her baby’s tears. Her fingers reached out to chase them away.

Shaking his head fervently, Aedon’s face contorted into a broody frown, very much like his father’s when something wasn’t going the way he planned. “I’m not mad at you! It’s my flower, mama!” The prince only proceeded to cry further. Rubbing at his eyes, he lifted the bunch of purplish blue Anemones up to show his mother. Through his squirming and wriggling, between his snorts and shrieks, the flowers in his clenched fists were squashed against his chest. As a result, they were now looking a bit bruised, bent at the stalks and some of the petals had fallen off too. “Papa won’t like them anymore!” Aedon wailed, big fat drops of tears streaked freely down his flushed cheeks.

Dany felt as if her heart was going to melt into a puddle within her rib cage. Her boy was such a sensitive sweetheart. “Aww… don’t worry sweetling, your papa will love them all the same. As long as it’s something his children give him.” Dany assured the child, her fingers gently caressing his face, relieving him of the salty moisture that was being squeezed out from his very active tear ducts.

“Yeah? Mama?” said the boy between hiccups.

“I’m sure of it.” Dany said with a bop to his tomato red nose. The boy shot her a wobbly grin, feeling better at last. His older sister swabbed away the last of his tears and snot with the train of her dress, while his baby sister showed him her goofiest monkey face to tease a smile out of the toddler and a gave him a hug just to be sure that he felt better.

With a smile and that sense of pride swimming in her heart, Dany straightened back up to stand, brushing off the grass stains on her knees. “Alright, let’s get to work, shall we?”

The three tots nodded their heads eagerly, rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet, ready to get on with their assigned task.

“Make sure to hide them in the bushes. Can you do that for me please?”

They nodded again. Feet already inching towards the maze they’d just came out off.

In the basket by her feet, held two more bunches of flowers and another greener bundle of leaves. Dany took the remaining bouquet from the basket, leaving the leaves behind. “I’ll keep you for later.” She thought, smirking to herself. Jon was in for a surprise. To her children, she instructed: “Stick together now.”

The children complied. Elwynn slid a free hand into Dany’s larger one, Aedon grabbed hold of Elwynn’s blouse and Arielle brought up the rear with her fingers in Aedon’s shirt.

Together, the quartet headed back into the maze.  

That’s odd, Jon thought as he dismounted his horse. Instead of his family, it was Missandei who stood by the entrance to the Red Keep. Missandei and Ghost. Which was even stranger. Ghost rarely ever left the children’s sides since Elwynn’s birth. Did something happen?

Ghost bounded towards his master the moment his feet hit the ground. Leaping up in attempts to reach his face and smother him in slobbery kisses. Standing on his hind legs, Ghost stood with his front paws on Jon’s shoulders. The king chuckled ruffling the wolf’s fur by his face. “I’m glad to see you again, boy!

“Welcome home, your Highness.” Missandei greeted him warmly, her hands holding something behind her back. “I hope the skies have been clear?”

“Aye, the weather had been kind.” Jon replied, a hand stroking through Ghost’s white fur. “Is everything alright? Where’s Dany? And the children?” Jon queried, the beginnings of worry rising in his chest.

“They’re perfectly fine. Although the queen did ask me to give you this.” Bringing her hands to the front, Jon noticed that she was holding a roll of parchment. Missandei entrusted the scroll to him with a half smile, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

Jon eyed her with an arched eyebrow. To him she looked like she was keeping a secret from him.

The note was held close with a red ribbon. Tugging it off with a flourish, unrolling the scroll, Jon instantly recognized his wife’s neat penmanship. Across the parchment she wrote:

Find the four flowers in the maze. Follow the flowers to us, come to us, your family, my love.

“Huh. What could Dany be up to?” He asked absently.

Missandei simply shrugged, that cryptic smile still upon her lips. Definitely suspicious. Something was up.

Looking down at Ghost, he asked: “Do you know?”

Titling his head, Ghost merely barked.

Head into the maze, find the flowers and out the other side to his family.

“I guess I have to locate the flowers hidden in any of these hedges?” A perplexed Jon stood with his arms crossed across his chest at the entrance of the maze, pondering. “That’s a lot of hedges.”  

Ghost headed into the maze ahead of him. Looking back at his master, the wolf waited with a tilt of his head and a whine almost as if urging him to get a move on. Seeing Jon still standing there, he grew impatient. His whine became a bark.

“I’m coming! And you’re helping me search.” Jon patted his wolf on the head. The king only hoped his wife didn’t hide them too well. The maze wasn’t that big but it was still big enough to feel like he was searching for a flower in a field of flowers.

Turning this way and that in the maze, thank the gods it didn’t take long for Jon to spot the first flash of colour among all the green. The first blossom was a bunch of Stargazer Lilies held together with a similar red ribbon as the parchment Missandei had given him earlier, not so hidden in the side of a hedge. The lilies were gorgeous. They looked like stars with five petals forming the five points with their protruding pistil and stamens forming the middle. The petals were pink with speckles of red dotted all over. The edges were lined with white and the sweet, poignant fragrance they emitted reminded him of the glasshouses in Winterfell. “One down, three more to go.” His heart began to gallop. He was almost there and he couldn’t wait to see them.

Walking along, Jon could picture his children and their gleeful laughter, roaming about the maze to find the perfect hiding spot, obscure but not so hidden that he couldn’t find them. He wondered what they were doing this very moment just on the other side of this maze? Were they just as eager to see him, as he was to see them?

Just then, he felt a damp nose nudging at his leg. “What is it? Did you find one?” Ghost averted his eyes to a spot behind Jon. Following his gaze, he turned to find a bunch of bright royal purple Pansy just by his head. Plucking them out of the bush, the king had to laugh. He was so occupied with looking for them at ground level he neglected to remember that his wife, just like in everything she did, was very thorough. He suspected she would have been involved in the hiding too.

“Two more left. Come on, boy.” With the flowers in one hand, the king and his wolf went on through the labyrinth.

The next blossom he picked up were a cluster of red Petunias left right in the middle of the grassy path. “Convenient.” Jon added the bundled blossoms to his collection. It would seem that one of his darling tots were eager that he got to them faster and wanted to make his job easier. Which suited him just fine, leaving him with only one more.

This was a pleasant change, he thought, glancing down at the sizeable bouquet in the crook of his arm. Usually, it was he who planned the surprises for his dear wife.  He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gotten flowers or a surprise. Though his mind was beginning to piece together the meanings of the flowers, thanks to his elusive knowledge of botany not many people knew about, he still wondered what his queen had to say utilising these particular flowers. He couldn’t wait to hear it from her.

Ghost pranced by his side, tail swinging jauntily behind him, looking delighted as can be to be with his master again. Keeping his nose to the ground at occasions to help in his master’s search. As they reached the last turn, with the exit looming just ahead, Ghost suddenly rushed forward, sticking his snout into a hedge and returned to Jon with last bunch of flowers gingerly clamped between his jaws.  “Thank you, well done Ghost!” Jon accepted the bunch from him. It was a delicate bouquet of Anemone. The blossoms looked a bit battered, missing a few petals here and there, but they were still lovely nonetheless and meant so much to him already. They were quite rare in these regions, he had no clue they even existed in the gardens. These flowers were special for their natural ability to close when night comes and open to the sun when daylight breaks. He just knew that the children would love to see them, while still attached to their roots of course. He’d have to take them on a hunt for them during one of their afternoon adventures soon. With that, all four had been found. Time to meet his family just around the bend.

Among the field of yellow and white blossoms, three young children huddled close to their mother, bending stalks, weaving flower crowns and blowing at dandelion fluffs. Each seed carried a wish to the sky, a wish for their papa to appear before their eyes. Just then, their furry big brother leapt through the stalks, trampling across the field, barking. All four heads turned towards him and their eyes alighted on the figure standing at the edge of the clearing. Their wishes came true!

“Papa!” His children called out to him, children that he never thought he would have the chance to father. Childish voices soared through the air, so clear, so crisp like a cool spring breeze drifting through the leaves of a tree, carrying the distinct purity only the children of summer could have, as tiny sandaled feet pounded against the ground. Three tiny bodies rushed through the grass, sending fluffy dandelion seeds scattering everywhere. Their outstretched hands reached for him in search of that familial connection between a father and his children. Jon dropped to his knees with his arms held apart, ready to catch his prince and princesses barrelling straight for him. An armful of mini humans later, he found himself on his backside having toppled backwards with a grunt, his arms as full as his heart was bursting.

“Papa, we’ve missed you so very much!” Elwynn exclaimed, hugging him around the neck.

“Yeah! You’ve been gone forever!” Arielle rubbed her cheek back and forth against his tunic, like a cat welcoming her parent home from a hard day of work. In a way that seemed applicable to him too.

“Did ya see any White Walkers beyond the Wall?” Aedon asked, his hands clinging to Jon’s right sleeve.

Ignoring their disapproving whines at him squishing them, the laughing king intensified his grip around his children, dropping smooches all over the crowns of their heads. He simply sat on the ground relishing in the moment, having them so near once more, trying his best to give them two weeks worth of cuddles and snuggles in one ginormous one. These babies and his wife were his everything. The day he held Elwynn in his arms, such a small wriggly thing, bundled up in a blanket, he knew that he would do anything for his children. Then when the twins came along, he knew for certain that he would go to any extent to keep them safe, even if it meant giving his life. Now that he was a father, words that his uncle, who raised him like a father would, resonated with him. Even if it meant being the lone wolf that died, he would do so willingly to ensure that his pack lived on. But before that, he would burn whomever dared to harm his family to ash.

The human heart was such a mysterious organ, one that she was constantly underestimating. Underestimating its capacity to love. Her husband and her offspring interacting made such a beautiful sight, watching from a distance, an overwhelming giddy, fluttery, fuzzy feeling expanded and expanded before melting her heart into a puddle of molten emotions within her chest cavity as moisture gathered in her eyes. All of them, the four beautiful beings that she stood observing, composed a future that once long ago, she never thought would ever be in the cards for her anymore. Sometimes, it almost seemed to good to be true, like a dream, a dream of spring in the darkest, coldest winter. And yet, as her eyes met her husband’s, over the top of their children’s heads, she knew this was true, a reality that was hers. One that she would protect with everything she had.

Leaving the children to play a few feet away, making sure they could still be seen, Dany weaved her fingers through the spaces between her husband’s, where they fit perfectly, where they belonged. She walked them towards the giant lemon tree. Under the shade provided by the foliage, with the scent of lemon in the air, and white lemon blossoms above their heads, Dany nestled herself against the front of Jon’s body. “I spent the whole day planning and researching all this for you, did you know?” She stated feeling extremely proud of herself. The queen had Jon’s bouquet in he hands, clasped in front of her stomach with her arms around her flower almanac that still held all the flowers he’d gifted to her over the years, now long dried of course but the queen had them preserved and pressed into bookmarks so she could keep them for a long, long time. Shimmying slightly to get comfortable, Dany peered up at him, a look of pure bliss painted her enchanting amethyst orbs. After so many years, she was just as mesmerizing as the first moment they met. There was not a side of her that he had uncovered which he hadn’t fell for. Taking the courage and allowing his heart to fall and welcome her into it all those years ago was the best-damned thing he had ever done in his then, bleak and dreary life. At the moment though that old life seemed so far away. The endless winter had finally turned to spring.

“Thank you, my queen.” The king cuddled his lover in the warm enclosure of his arms, cherishing the feel of her back in his embrace. “This has to be one of the greatest gifts I’ve had the pleasure of receiving.” Pressing a lingering kiss to her temple, he added: “It comes close to meeting you and the birth of our children of course.”

His queen snuggled back into him, running the tip of her nose indulgently along his neck, breathing in his scent. Not withholding the urge to drop opened mouthed kisses along the expanse of his exposed skin, Dany relished in his shudder with an appreciative hum. How she’d missed him. The scratch of his scruffy beard under her fingers, up and down the her inner thighs, the touch of the calloused pads of his fingers that always reduced her into a trembling mess, the warm family moments they shared together with their babies, just everything that was him.

“Do you know why I chose these flowers for you?”

“Why did you choose them, my love?”

Tucking her head into the bend where Jon’s neck met his shoulder, Dany spoke softly, eager to savour this rare tender moment which didn’t come by very often now that they were parents: “These flowers in particular allow for a smoother storytelling process. The meaning of these flowers can be strung into a short tale of my woes while you were away.” She batted her eyelids at him playfully, before breaking out into a giggle, one that Jon couldn’t help but join in. “Would you like to hear it?” Her fingers already rearranging the bouquets in the right order as she spoke.

“Of course I would.” Jon replied, shifting her hair away from her face and placing the lock behind her ear. He loved her like this without her many intricate braids, with just the one running down the middle, made up of two smaller braids that held her hair away from the sides of her face, leaving the rest of her locks flowing free. In place of her royal crown was a flower crown, circling her head. In his eyes the ensemble made her appear no less regal but softer, more vulnerable in a way that made her even more beautiful, more carefree, away from her worries and duties, more like the Dany so often hidden under all her titles.

“Let’s start with this one.” Dipping her head low, Dany welcomed the sweet floral scent into her nose. “Stargazer lilies are really pretty aren’t they?” She asked. “I couldn’t sleep without you holding me, so I went strolling one night an the scent of these flowers drew me to them, I picked them and got the idea to give you flowers like you tend to give me! These flowers were the perfect candidate. You see, the predominant felling when you left was an acute sense of longing. These flowers carry that sentiment.” Twirling a lily around and watching their red speckles catch the light, she remembered how the children would query every night of when their papa would come home. Every time they did so, her heart would ache just a little more. “I’ve missed you, Jon, terribly. Our babies did too. We’ve never parted for such an extended period of time in so long.”

“I’ve missed you too. I missed my family. It felt odd being away, like a part of me was missing. Which I suppose was true.” Kissing her on the back of her head, he reflected: “A big portion of my heart stayed behind back here, with you. Seems like I can’t stray away from you, my queen. ”

“Good. You’d better remember that.” Dany flicked at his nose defiantly with the flowers, laughing lightly as he sneezed.

“Aye, I will.” Jon promised, sniffling lightly. Lifting the heavy tome up and out of Dany’s lap to wind his arms around her to rest on her belly, Jon cheekily nipped at her earlobe, making her yelp. Smirking as she shot a flustered glare back at him, he nodded with his head at the flowers, speaking an unspoken ‘continue please’.

Dany cleared her throat, all the while tyring hard not to smile at her husband’s mischievous capers. Sometimes her stoic wolf could be just like their children, which was something she found surprisingly endearing. Pulling Jon’s arms tighter around her, Dany picked out the Pansy next. “Essentially, the Pansy conveys the meaning of remembrance. Remembering events of the past.” Playing with the round petals under her fingers, a small smile stole across her lips. “Sometimes during the night when I felt particularly lonely, my mind would fill with all the things we’ve been through, all the good and the bad.”

“That was what I did too.” It was the same for him. Lying in his childhood bedroom, in his childhood bed back in Winterfell, everything around him looked the same and yet everything was different now. The space beside him in bed felt empty and cold without his love, a thousand miles away. The occasional raven from Kings Landing and the thoughts of his darling family were the only things that kept him on his task and the prospect of getting back to them soon pushed him to work harder. “The thoughts of the happy times we’ve spent together, are your greatest treasure huh?” Jon’s fingers reached forward to curve around the edge of a pansy petal.

Nuzzling her forehead against his, Dany hummed. “Yes.”

“As are mine.” Jon rubbed his nose alongside hers. “Always.”

“As the day of your return approached, I began feeling much lighter, my heart was so full to the brim with,” Waving the bunch of Anemone before his eyes, Dany could almost feel an echo of excitement in her building once more. “Anticipation, Jon.”

The king laughed. He knew that feeling all too well.

“And now that you’re back, I can give you these Petunias that fully represent what I hope we’ll have more of in the future.” Gently placing the flowers back in Jon’s hands, Dany wrapped her smaller ones around his. “I wish with all my heart that I will be able to fulfil my endless desire to spend the rest of my life in your company, because no matter what we’re going through, you make me feel sure of myself, you sooth every frazzled nerve that comes up and you just…. make me so happy.”

When they first met, the queen had no intention of getting used to the presence of this broody man, the solemn king in the North, no intention at all to grow close to him, to let him steal his way into that firmly guarded vault that held her vulnerability, held her heart. He did so in such a sneaky way that when she realised her feelings for him, the seeds had already taken root and had grown into little buds of love that would soon bloom into flowers that never withered even in the harshest of winters.

Jon was speechless. His throat so clogged up with emotions the only way he could react was to capture his wife’s lovely mouth with his.

“Just when I thought I couldn’t love you more…” He murmured against her lips when they parted reluctantly for breath. “I love you and would gladly spend my whole life working my hardest to bring you only joy, after all that you’ve been through, all the hardship and pain. You deserve only happiness.”

Chasing after his lips for more pecking kisses, Dany uttered breathlessly: “You deserve it too. Let’s agree to be happy together.”

“That sounds like a solid plan.” Kissing her back with ardour, Jon couldn’t agree more.

The dimly lit nursery was dark and the light snoring from two slumbering princesses was the only sound that could be heard. The only occupants awake were the king and his little prince.

“Papa?” A sleepy Aedon called out. His eyes were already drooping, but he had a very important question in mind that he needed to ask.

Jon came to sit by his son’s bed. “What is it, my boy?” He asked, tucking the covers securely around the child.

“Do you think I’m weak?” Came the prince’s voice, muffled from his mouth being half hidden under the covers. Aedon’s eyes darted around the room, not meeting his father’s directly.

Taken aback, Jon had to ask, his voice curious with a hint of worry. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, today when we were going into the lemon tree place, I got scared had to hold Ellie and Ari’s hands.” Aedon’s voice was beginning to wobble. Even in the dark, Jon could tell that tears were welling in his eyes. His son reminded him a bit of his baby brother Rickon. Aedon was such a sweet, sensitive boy who had the bravery of the wolf and dragon combined, residing in his blood but sometimes Jon wondered if he felt unsure of himself. He wasn’t the wildest or loudest child. He was the quiet, cautious one who never jumped into situations that could endanger him. The silent wolf that came prowling through the trees in the woods, silent but loud when need be. He was the perfect balance between his wilful sisters.

Pulling the blanket away from his son’s body, Jon gently lifted the boy up to sit on his lap. “Aedon, listen to me carefully now.” Tipping his head up by the chin so that their eyes met, Jon stated firmly: “Being afraid doesn’t make you weak. There is nothing wrong in being scared sometimes. In fact, it proves that you are strong.”

“How?” Aedon asked, confused.

“To be weak is to be brave. Let me ask you this, Aedon.” Jon’s hand came to curl around his son’s arm, shifting the boy to sit with his side resting against his chest. “Did you make it out of the maze?”

Aedon nodded, still looking up at his father warily.

“Then that’s all that matters! Only by being brave, allowed you to face your fear. That bravery in you gave you the courage to overcome that fear and come out at the end!”

“But… I still had to let my sisters guide me!” The boy frowned.

“That is also a sign of the bravery that you have in you. Being able to admit that you were scared and ask for help is a good thing.” Rocking his son gently from side to side, Jon said: “Besides, we don’t have to be brave all the time. Just as long as it appears when it’s needed, to protect the things you hold dear for example, like your family or to do what is right, what is necessary.”

Aedon’s eyes grew large as an unbridled grin formed across his face, pushing up his chubby cheeks. “I was brave, papa?”

“Aye.” Jon reassured him with a ruffle to his curls. “You are so very brave. And who knows, maybe one day your sisters will need you to defend them. Maybe even your mama and I might need your help.”

“No way!” Aedon said in a breathy voice, tinged with disbelief. “Me?”

“Aye. You will need to bring out that bravery you have inside here.” Jon pointed at Aedon’s chest. “Be the dragon you were born to be, be the wolf that protects his pack. Can you do that my boy?”

Aedon puffed up his chest with his lips pursed into the tightest line and nodded his head so vehemently his curls bounced all over the place.

“Good. Remember, being afraid does not make you weak.” Sticking out his pinkie finger, Jon offered it to the boy. “Promise you’ll remember that?”

Aedon hooked his tiny finger as best as he could around his father’s. “I promise.”

“Now, let’s get you to bed. You’re going to need your energy if you want to hunt some White Walkers with me tomorrow!” Jon tossed his son up in the air lightly, relieved to hear the sound of his son’s cheerful laughter. Urging the boy into the confines of his blanket, and watching with a smile as he lay back down before pulling the blanket up to his chin. Finally with the boy firmly tucked in, Jon said to him: “I love you, my son.”

“I love you, papa. Good night.” Aedon mumbled as his eyes fell shut, ready to join his sisters on their expedition through the land of dreams.

With lingering kisses to each other their slumbering heads, Jon crept out of the nursery, leaving the door open just a crack.

“Are the children asleep?” Dany asked from their bed.

“Aye. Arielle and Ellie knocked out before I even got to the end of the first page and you know how much they love that story.” Jon replied with a fond smile lifting the corners of his lips. The princesses requested that story almost nightly. It was the tale of a warrior princess mounting her dragon and slaying the hideous Chimera with dragon fire. It was very true to their characters. He wondered what kind of princesses they’d grow up to be, his beautiful daughters. One thing that he knew for certain was, they’d grow to be just as strong as their mother and their aunts in the North. It was in their blood after all.

“Ugh…. I’m exhausted!” Jon groaned, collapsing onto his side of bed, his head falling to rest on the queen’s thigh.

Dany ran her fingers lovingly through his silky curls. “I bet you are. But you can’t sleep yet!”

“What? Why?” Jon exclaimed with a pout, looking ridiculously like his children when they didn’t get their way.

“There is something else I saved for you.” A sly half smile fleeted across her mouth as she held up a sprig of mistletoe between her fingers. “I’m sure you know what this little plant means?”

“Mistletoe huh?” Jon sat up and crawled over to his wife, a languid smirk tugging at his mouth, until there was only a scant distance between their lips. “If my memory serves me,” he hummed, thinking for a moment, “it means you’re sending me a thousand kisses?” Jon murmured, his breath rolling over Dany’s face. He wasn’t aware of just how much he’d missed her in bed until they were just an inch away from touching. How he’d missed his lovely wife, the warmth of her pressed against him, the taste of her, her scent, her talented tongue doing sinful things to his body that made him want to combust under her, and the sight of her being a mother to their children, just her everything.

Turns out she’d been missing him too, for she craved him, dearly. The queen scooted herself closer to him, an arm curled around Jon’s neck, she pulled him to her. Her eyes slipped shut as their lips brushed against one another, not quite kissing just yet but grazing softly as they breathed together, savouring the closeness of their bodies, reunited at last. The contented hum released by the queen radiated from her lips to his, sending delicious tremors coursing through Jon’s body.

“Well…. I couldn’t send them to you attached to the feet of a raven, so I saved them up for you. Now that you’re back….” Wiggling the green parasitic sprig above their heads, her lips blossomed into a grin that he felt against his own. “Feel free to come and claim your kisses anytime, my darling husband.”

That was all a very reinvigorated Jon needed to pounce forward and pin his wife to their bed. The sprig of mistletoe fell to the floor, soon to be joined by their clothes as the king and queen spent the rest of the night rediscovering one another, reacquainting themselves with the spots on each other’s bodies that made them tremble and topple over the edge into the arms of carnal ecstasy.

It was good to be home, Jon concluded. As they say, home is where the heart was, amongst many other things.

[thatoctokittenclutchinganotebook]

Star Trek Secret Santa 2017

My gift for @radioactive-violet in the @startreksecretsanta. Sorry it’s so late! I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to @mwahahahahahahaa for helping me with this. 

Game Night (link to Ao3)  

Michael was unsure of what to expect. The party had been difficult enough, but amongst crowds she could at least keep to herself if she wished. With only a small group of senior officers and Tilly, it would be difficult to remain engaged. She had researched common games and recreational activities, but she was not experienced in playing them, and there was too wide a variety for it to be possible to research them all. Everyone had been asked to bring a game they knew, so Michael was bringing Kal-Toh, but it’s focus on logic and strategy might not be what was expected. From the data she’d studied, strategic games such as chess were less common at a game night than those involving public humiliatio, n or consumption of alcoholic beverages. The attendees, as Michael had been informed, would be Doctor Culber, Lieutenant Stamets, Commander Saru, Lieutenant Tyler, Cadet Tilly, and herself. Any interaction between herself and Saru was likely to be tense, and she knew little of Doctor Culber, but she was comfortable with Sylvia and Ash. The game night was also happening in Michael and Tilly’s shared quarters, meaning Michael also had to contend with her private space being invaded. Tilly had ordered her out two hours ago so she could make preparations, and Michael was a little concerned about what she would find upon her return. She arrived outside at the same time as Saru, who eyed her suspiciously. That was not out of the ordinary. They had never been friends, not even when they served on the Shenzhou, and Michael’s mutiny meant that Saru would likely never trust her again. There was little she could do about that. They seemed to have developed a sort of truce, but it seemed unlikely for their relationship to improve beyond that. Michael opened the door, belatedly realising it may have been a good idea to knock as Tilly let out a sound of surprise, hurriedly turning to see who had entered. She smiled with relief to see it was just Michael, then looked slightly alarmed as Saru entered behind her. Michael deduced that Tilly was not entirely finished with the preparations. “Michael! And… Commander Saru! Would you like a drink? I’ve got alcohol from several different star systems, and I’ve been experimenting with cocktails-” “I would prefer not to imbibe alcohol.” Saru said smoothly, eyeing Michael. “It can have… undesirable effects on my ability to predict danger.” Tilly blinked. “Oh. Of course. But you’re not in danger here, so, I mean, if you wanted to? Not that I’m trying to pressure you, I just-” Michael knew Saru was trying to avoid saying he was uncomfortable being uninhibited around her. To say so would make Tilly feel awkward. “Perhaps Commander Saru is thinking of what happened at the last social event this crew had.” Michael suggested. “The party was not as safe as we might have thought.”Saru inclined his head. “While it seems highly unlikely that Harry Mudd will resurface, I would far rather not have my judgement impeded.” “Oh. Okay. Would you like water? Tea? Any kind of non alcoholic drink? I have plenty of those too. I can even make you a non alcoholic cocktail if you want, sir.” Tilly was clearly very eager for the evening to go well. Michael spoke again. “I would be willing to try one of your cocktails.”Tilly beamed, and moved towards where she’d set up the cocktails, starting to ramble excitedly about the different types. “I have several recipes, and I’ve made up a few. This one’s Purple Rain, and this is a Pina Colada. I’ve also have Mojitos, and Long Island Iced Tea’s. They’re all different, with different flavours. Which would you like?” Michael wasn’t sure. She didn’t know much about any of those cocktails. “Why don’t you pick one that you think I’d like? Or your own favourite?” Michael asked. “I don’t have much experience with cocktails.”Tilly smiled. “Do you like pineapples and coconut? The Piña Colada seems to have worked best so far.” Michael nodded. “I will try that one, then.” Tilly beamed again, before turning to pout Michael a glass of the creamy cocktail. She sipped it cautiously. The flavour was pleasant, but she was sure there was more alcohol in it than was apparent. The last thing she wanted to do was become inebriated. Just as Tilly served Saru a glass of water, the doors opened to admit Dr Culber and Lieutenant Stamets. Michael hadn’t spent a lot of time with Dr Culber, but she had a good deal of respect for his skills. Lieutenant Stamets had changed a lot in the short time Michael had known him, which she was attributing to the changes in his DNA that enabled the jumps. She had grown to like him, much as she had grown to like Tilly. She hoped that they would both become friends, though she knew her future was still uncertain. Then again, nobody could be certain of what their futures would bring. Case in point: Lieutenant Ash Tyler. A few months ago, he undoubtedly believed he would spend the rest of his life in a Klingon prison, and that his life would not be long. Instead, he was now a senior, trusted officer aboard the Discovery. Life was full of surprises. She took another sip of the cocktail. She wondered how long it would take for the alcohol to take effect. A few hours later, the game night was in full swing. Michael had brought Kal-Toh, and Tilly and Stamets had rapidly turned the entire point of the game upside down by making it a drinking game. To Michael's surprise, she was enjoying it. She was also winning, though Lieutenant Stamets was proving a challenging opponent. Saru had also been very good at the game, but he had retired from it to play a Kelpian game with Ash and Dr Culber. Tilly was watching from Michael's bed. Why she was sitting on Michael's bed and not her own was unclear. Michael made the finishing move to complete Kal-Toh and the model formed perfectly. Stamets smiled. Tilly suddenly sat up straight. “Ooh!” She said excitedly. “We should play a classic human game. Twister! Or monopoly!”As she explained the rules to Twister, Saru shook his head. “I would rather sit that one out.” “Monopoly, then.”Tilly  said happily. “That will be fun.” Fun was not the word Michael would have chosen to describe it. Fifteen minutes in, everybody just seemed frustrated and even angry, but they were engaged. Michael had come up with a strategy early. Most of them, she thought, would aim to collect only specific colours of property. If she bought as much property as possible, she would be able to both block the others from collecting the colours, and trade whatever she needed to make a monopoly for herself. Unfortunately she was not the only one with this strategy. Tilly was drunk enough to be deciding what to purchase completely at random. Saru was eyeing her suspiciously and buying very cautiously. Tyler had caught on to Michael’s strategy and was exactly the same thing, and Culber and Stamets were alternating between working together to infuriate the others and competing for the same properties.Michael had hoped to never find herself in jail again, but it seemed that the dice were conspiring to land her there. Not that that was possible, of course, but it still seemed odd that Michael was spending so much time there. She’d noticed Saru smirking each time, lips twitching upwards as she picked up a card stating ‘Go directly to jail’. Tilly was surprisingly doing quite well, despite her current state of inebriation. She didn’t seem to be pursuing a specific strategy, but had ended up with the cards everyone seemed to land on most by pure chance. Lieutenant Tyler was the first to become bankrupt, or close to it. He paused on his go, about to have to declare bankruptcy. Then, he turned to Michael. “I’ll sell you all my properties for $1.” He offered. She raised an eyebrow, noting his strategy. By selling his properties to her, despite the fact he would lose, she would gain an advantage against Tilly. It may not be enough for her to win, but it could help. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, so to speak. She accepted and handed over a dollar. Stamets was the next to declare bankruptcy. He sold all his properties to Dr Culber, though, meaning Michael did not gain anything from the action. Dr Culber then gave his properties to Saru when he bowed out. Somehow, despite this maneuvering, Tilly was still in the lead. Now it was down to the three of them. Saru, Michael and Tilly. It was clear by this point, as Tilly built house after house, hotel after hotel, that Michael was not going to win without help, and neither would Saru. It was time for a sacrifice. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few- and although it wasn’t a need, precisely, everyone else in that room wanted to beat Tilly, who was crowing uninhibitedly over her pile of cash. Saru was never going to help Michael win. She knew that. So, for the purpose of victory over Tilly, she turned to him. “I will sell you all my properties for $1.” Saru seemed surprised. This was not what anyone had expected. Even Stamets looked shocked. Tilly laughed. Michael knew that Saru would not want to owe her anything, even in something as silly as a game. She hoped he would believe that it was not a manipulation. His threat ganglia were not indicating a threat. Slowly, he nodded and held out a dollar. Silently, Michael passed him her collection of property cards. Tilly stared open-mouthed, then shook herself. “Did I have more to drink than i thought?” She murmured. “Probably.” Michael said honestly. “Oh look, I’ve landed on one of saru’s properties. I can’t quite afford to pay rent. I’ll have to give him the rest of my money and declare bankruptcy.” “Still not gonna beat me.” Tilly said, hardly coherently. “I’m gonna have all the monopolies.”In the end, it was a draw. It turned out that the entirety of the senior staff were no match for a drunk and uninhibited sylvia Tilly. Tilly’s collapse into semi-unconsciousness heralded the end of the evening. The others left, some with friendly wishes, Ash with a reluctant grin, and Saru with a cool and slightly awkward nod. Michael gently brought Tilly round. “Hey. Hey, Cadet, wake up.” Tilly mumbled something indecipherable.“Eyes forward, Cadet.” Tilly jumped a little and stared at Michael, eyes bleary. Michael held out a glass of water. “Drink this, and then you can go back to sleep.” Tilly obediently sipped from the glass. As she finished and Michela took the glass away, she gazed in confusion at the monopoly pieces scattered on the floor. “Did it already happen? Who won?” Michael smiled. Alcohol truly had a very strange effect. She didn’t know why anyone would want to be in this condition, but she could not deny that the evening had been fun. “Yes. It was good. Everyone enjoyed it. And you won.” Of course. She added silently. Tilly was unbeatable. Tilly smiled and fell asleep. Michael sat there for a moment. She hadn’t expected to enjoy it. She hadn’t expected to find friends here on the Discovery. Life truly was a strange thing. 

[ehyde]

Coming Home

Here's some Geun-tae/Yun-ho fluff for @peachchanvidel! Hope you like it. 1432 words, PG.

“Welcome home, Lady Yun-ho!”

Yun-ho stepped out of her carriage and took the hand Chul-ran offered her. She was exhausted from her travels. Her brief stay in Port Awa had been a nice respite after nearly a week at sea, returning from the Kai Empire, but it was good to finally be home. “Thank you, Chul-ran.”

“I’ll send some servants to bring your trunk and your bags.” They stepped through the gate, and Chul-ran kept up an excited stream of chatter at her side. “Did you do a lot of business? What did all those fancy merchants in the Kai Empire think of your tea?” After a few months of successfully exporting her tea to the Kai Empire, Yun-ho had been invited to present it in person to an elite consortium of merchants. It was an opportunity she couldn't pass up—but because of his duties to the kingdom, Geun-tae hadn't been able to go with her. By now, they'd been apart for nearly a month, the longest since they'd been married.

“They really loved it!” Even after it had a week to sink in, she still had a hard time believing her success. “I think we'll need to expand the plantation—but we can afford to do that, now! Oh, I wonder if the hills above Chi'shin will produce the right quality…”

“We were all praying for your success!”

“Oho, even my husband wants this 'smelly tea’ to do well?”

“He keeps saying that if people in the Kai Empire have bad taste, it can’t be helped,” Chul-ran laughed. Then he paused, looking into Yun-ho’s eyes. “He does, though. He brags about you whenever he gets a chance, and he’s been so worried—he barely slept at all the first week you were gone—”

Yun-ho smiled, thinking of what she would say to greet her husband—and then all those words vanished from her head as Geun-tae stepped into view on the other side of the courtyard. She dropped Chul-ran’s hand and ran to him, leaping into his arms, feeling his embrace for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Yun-ho!”

And his voice—as dreamy as the day they first met. But the effect was ruined by the next sentence out of his mouth. “...the hell are you wearing?”

He set her back down and she stepped back, twirling around to show him. “Do you like it? It’s the latest fashion in Southern Kai!” Her new qipao, of soft pink silk embroidered with white and gold flowers, with its wide, high collar and slim sleeves, was nothing like what she usually wore.

“It’s so...sleek.” The expression on his face as he said that made her take it for a “yes.”

“I brought back some men’s clothing for you, too,” Yun-ho said. “You’re going to look so handsome!” She took Geun-tae’s hands again, letting him lift her into the air and spin her around.

“My lady,” said Chul-ran. “I’ll have your bags brought to your rooms. Is there anything else you need?”

“No,” said Yun-ho. “Everything I want is right here.”

“They liked it, right? You sold a bunch, right?”

“Now, now,” Yun-ho laughed. “Is business really what you want to talk about right now?”

“Just tell me, do I congratulate you or not?”

Yun-ho took a deep breath. “I signed a contract with a supplier to the imperial city!” she announced. “Not that there’s really an emperor right now, but—”

“Yun-ho, that’s amazing! That’s really—”

“And that’s all the business for tonight. I know that news isn’t all you want from me, is it, husband?”

Geun-tae grinned, pulling Yun-ho close. “No...no, it most certainly is not.” Yun-ho closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his breath on her cheek, the touch of his lips on hers. Then their kiss was interrupted by a tap on the door.

“Lady Yun-ho, your things—”

“Ah—yes—bring them in!”

Geun-tae eyed the array of bags and boxes after the servant left. “That's more than you had when you left.”

“Souvenirs! After all, I may never have a chance to visit the Kai Empire again.”

“Are you kidding?” Geun-tae asked. “They'd be crazy not to want you back.” He paused. “But they like that smelly tea, so you can't trust their judgement.”

“Oh, shush.”

“Those souvenirs don't include more smelly tea you're going to make me try, do they?” Geun-tae asked, suddenly wary.

“Well—” It was true she'd brought back a lot of tea, varieties and blends from the Kai Empire and beyond. She wanted to think that surely among them would be something here husband would like. “They do have just plain green tea there, too, you know,” she said. “But somehow, it tastes completely different! The leaves are—” Well, Geun-tae wouldn't appreciate the details. “It’s really interesting,” she assured him.

“‘Interesting’ sounds suspicious.”

“Oh, and also! There’s something else I brought back. It’s not tea.”

“...some kind of alcohol?”

“No, but I did bring back some fine liquor too. This is...it’s hard to describe.” It had been brought by merchants from far to the southwest, a hot drink made not from tea leaves but from some kind of berries. Those merchants had traveled even farther than Yun-ho and been met with less success, and buying a little of their wares was the least she could do.

“Well, fine, fine, I’ll try it now. Get it over with.”

“...you’re curious, aren’t you?”

“What? No! You have weird tastes and I know it’s going to be strange.”

Yun-ho laughed. Her husband was always like this. He either outright hated her teas or couldn’t tell one grade of leaf from the next, but he was always willing—even eager, though he’d never admit it—to sample her latest obsession. It was really, really cute. “I’ll have to go to the kitchen and prepare it myself,” she said. “The servants won’t know how.” She rummaged through one of her bags till she found the right package. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes!”

It was more than a few minutes, of course—she needed to grind the beans and boil the water and get everything just right—but soon, Yun-ho returned with a tray bearing two small cups of frothy, brown liquid.

“It looks like mud,” Geun-tae commented. He picked up one of the cups, about to toss it back all in one go.

“No, not like that!” He always drank his tea like that too, never savoring the flavor at all. “It's really strong,” she added.

“You think a little cup of mud is a match for me?” Geun-tae asked. Yun-ho rolled her eyes. Men. But Geun-tae did pause, sniffing the aroma of the beverage curiously. “It doesn't smell like mud,” he admitted. “Actually, it smells really good.” Tentatively, he took a sip, and his eyes lit up. “Yun-ho, this is amazing!” He hastily finished the rest of the little cup, before Yun-ho even started hers. “Yun-ho, you’re really amazing! You found something delicious!”

“You—you like it? You really like it?” After all the things she'd served him in all the years of their marriage, to finally find something he not only tolerated but actually appreciated—of course it would be this. “It's called 'coffee,’” Yun-ho said. Personally, she found the taste too bitter, and while she thought she'd be able to enjoy it on occasion, she knew she'd always prefer the delicate flavor of tea. But if Geun-tae really liked it—

“I love it.” Geun-tae stood up, a huge grin on his face, and Yun-ho held up her own cup to offer him. She didn't mind giving it up, to see him like this. “Damn, you probably only brought back a sample 'cause you figured I'd call it gross, right? Well, not this time! Though it still looks like mud. Let's order a year's supply, at least! I wonder if we can sell it. I wonder if that grumpy General Judo would buy it.” He was pacing the room, practically leaping with excitement.

“Oh, that's right,” Yun-ho remembered. “The merchants told me that coffee is usually a morning beverage, because it has an invigorating effect.” Much moreso than tea, they'd said.

“Invigorating, huh?” He set the cup back down and reached out to Yun-ho.

“Yes,” said Yun-ho, letting herself be pulled up to meet hm. “And since I already told you we won't be discussing business tonight—” She​ stood on her tiptoes and gave him a little peck on the cheek. “And since it's been so long—” She traced a finger down his cheek, then along his chest, then further down. “Shall we find a better use for all that energy?”

[journalxxx]

Quid Pro Quo

Ford had to muster every ounce of self-restraint not to kick the man into his goddamn portal, and only because he didn't trust him not to drop a granade on the boat in retaliation on his way out. He should have blasted his face off the moment he had popped in front of them out of nowhere, honestly. That would have spared so much trouble to everyone. He re-entered the cabin alone, finding Stan sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of strong whiskey. He looked normal, but Ford was under no illusion about his state.

"Nice guy." "Yes, I know." "I know it could sound weird coming from me, but you really have a pretty poor judgement when it comes to making friends, Ford." "He isn't my friend. Never has been. In fact, the one and only time I met him, I nearly got beheaded, he almost got imprisoned for life, and a city lost three entire blocks to what was officially deemed as a spontaneous fire." "Nice." Stan emptied the glass with a long gulp and immediately poured himself another. Ford thought that he should either stop him or join him, but he didn't feel like doing either. He just waited for the inevitable questions to drop. He didn't have to wait long. "Did you know?" "...No." Stan looked up from the table for the first time, shooting an unmistakably doubtful glance at Ford. He hadn't seen one of those in a while. Ford wished he could feel affronted by such unwarranted distrust, but his attention was momentarily stolen by a tiny, negligible detail he had completely forgotten until that very moment. This isn't your dimension, Bill, you have no right to be here! Neither do you. Don't be such a hypocrite, Brainiac. "...Theoretically, I did know that the mathematical probability was incredibly low. But so were the chances of a portal opening in the Nightmare Realm exactly in that moment, exactly how it did, so I guess I just... didn't question the unlikeness of the whole thing. I never thought to check. I wouldn't have known how to, anyway. I don't have that kind of knowledge or technology." "...Ah." Stan's gaze dropped to the glass again. Silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Stan traced the rim of the glass slowly, his tone unfittingly light and casual. "I don't know, seems to me like the kind of thing you'd want to check right away. And it took that guy what- five seconds? No more than four buttons pushed, that's for sure. Didn't look that difficult." "Sanchez has access to a wealth of notions and equipment that is unrivaled in most of the universes I've seen, and most of it is tragically misused. He doesn't share it as a rule, and asking him any sort of favor is almost as much of a bad idea as making a deal with Bill. I didn't know, Stanley. I really didn't." This time he got a grunt in reply, swiftly drowned by another gulp of whiskey. Again, he waited. "So... what now?" "I..." Ford took a moment to choose his words carefully. "...It's a troubling situation, there's no point in denying that... but I think we can make sense of it. We haven't noticed for months, we may have kept ignoring the issue for much longer if Sanchez hadn't showed up. I think it's less of a world-changing revelation than it might seem." Stan gaped at him in disbelief. "What do you mean?" "Well, as I said, we didn't even notice. Many universes differ from each other only by ridiculously tiny details, almost unobservable quantic states that have little to no visible macroscopic repercussions. Our memories of our childhoods seem exactly the same, much like anything else I have observed since I got here. Not to mention that this has no impact whatsoever on the experiences we've made in the last months, and on how close we've..." Ford stopped when Stan started waving his hand in dismissal, his expression darkening visibly. "This is... all very nice and very true, Stanford, but I was talking about something more practical. I meant what are we going to do. About the other Stanford, you know... my brother. The one who must still be lost on some God-forsaken random planet of a God-forsaken random dimension. How do we find him?" This time, it was Ford who broke eye contact first. Nevertheless, Stan managed to guess his thoughts flawlessly. "You asked him where he is, didn't you? Did he know?" Of course he asked. Of course Ford knew that Stan's first priority in light of the new discovery would be locating his own brother, the one that, apparently, Ford wasn't. Of course Ford asked, and of course Rick knew, with the same inexplicable confidence that allowed him to know exactly how to materialize a perfectly functional and safe interdimensional portal from a gun-sized device, or how to brew a strawberry flavored beverage that could make a human liver spontaneously produce alcohol for 72 hours, or how to destroy months of cherished domestic tranquillity with less than 20 words. Ford didn't reply, and that was as clear of an answer as Stan could get. His brother grew very pale, very quickly, and dropped his gaze as well. "...How?" "Stan, I don't think-" "Ford. How." "...It seems he... got lost during another planet's equivalent of a snowstorm. He couldn't find a shelter quickly enough." "He got lost? You mean that they just lost track of him, or...?" "A nomadic tribe found him. His body. Thirteen years ago." Ford didn't add that his alternate self's body had been subsequently handed to Bill's agents in exchange for a meager monetary reward. It seemed a very unnecessary and gratuitously crude piece of information, pretty much like the entirety of their conversation with Sanchez had been. He should have definitely shot him. Possibly when he had showed up specifically to enquire on the whereabouts of a small packet of crystals he had misplaced in Ford's pocket no less than ten years before - what the hell was wrong with that man, seriously? Surely when he had started to complain about Ford's allegedly disastrous haggling skills in trading it with new clothes, three fully charged plasma guns and three months' worth of human food - a life-saving bargain in Ford's situation. And then, just out of spite for not finding his goddamn crystals, he had started to ask, and imply, and chatter, for no other purpose than to pour his own annoyance onto others. And now, not for the first time, Stan was paying the consequences of Ford's foolishness. He squeezed his brother's wrist gently, taking in his sombre expression and stricken silence. "...I'm sorry." Stan didn't reply, or drink, or react in any visible way for a few, long minutes. He gazed out of the porthole, his hand covering his mouth, his eyes lost in the misty horizon. "Fuck." He finally exhaled, briefly rubbing his hand over his whole face, before resuming his idle staring. "Fuck, I really thought..." Ford suddenly felt as if they were back at eight months before. As if all the progress they had made, the heartfelt apologies and reciprocal forgiveness, the lightness and ease they had consciously allowed in their relationship had been swept away in a matter of minutes. It had been quite a while since he had last seen that particular brand of guilt haunting Stan's features, one whose existence he hadn't even guessed until it had slapped his metaphorical face. "Stanley." Ford tightened his hold on his brother's arm, rubbing his thumb on his skin soothingly. "You did everything you could. More than anyone else could have ever done. To try to fix something that was way beyond your control. You didn't build the portal, you didn't want to be involved, you didn't start the fight. Your brother did. We did. You know this isn't your fault." "That doesn't mean shit. Even if it wasn't, I was the only one who could have done something. I should have done something. But I didn't. For thirty fucking years. I couldn't." Stan freed his arm from Ford's grasp to wipe away the tiny, shiny smidgens gathering at the corners of his eyes. "I couldn't save his life. How isn't that 'world-changing', Ford?" Ford clenched his fist. That was going to be harder than the first time, he realised. First and foremost because forgiving oneself after a troubled but ultimately successful misadventure was one thing, while doing the same after everything had gone horribly wrong was another. Secondly, because this time he couldn't provide a somewhat justified encouragement, because it turned out he wasn't even directly involved in the matter any more. A different approach, then. "You saved mine." Stan just shook his head with a heavy sigh, but Ford continued testily. "No, I'm not just saying it, I mean it literally. I've never told you what I was doing right before jumping in your portal, have I?" That got him a marginally interested glance in response. Good enough, he thought. "I was facing Bill. I was literally about to try to kill him in his own lair. It was... an hazardous plan, one I probably wouldn't have survived. The Nightmare Realm wasn't a proper dimension, it was more of a stray space-time pocket between worlds. Very unstable, and held together solely by Bill's powers. If I had managed to defeat him, I imagine the Realm would have collapsed on itself very quickly, possibly immediately. I doubt it would have lasted long enough for me to find a way out." "That sounds like a very poorly thought plan, not gonna lie." "I suppose it was. I didn't really think about the aftermath of my raid. Taking Bill down was such an ambitious target that any possible negative consequence seemed of little importance. The point is that you effectively provided me with an escape route, then and there, and subsequently destroyed the demon himself. You saved more lives than we could count, including a great deal of Fords, I bet." Even though not the one that mattered to him the most, unfortunately. Ford thought it, and Stan thought it, and no one could really offer anything to soften that blow. Stan nodded thoughtfully, and they fell silent again, slowly digesting the several implications of that complicated evening. Unexpectedly, it was Stan who spoke up next. "So... what about the other Stan?" "Mh?" "Your brother, in your own dimension. Is he still alive?" "I... don't know..." Stan frowned, and Ford knew instantly that he had just made another glaring mistake. "You didn't ask? You asked about my brother and not yours?"

"I... honestly, I was more worried about your reaction, you looked very unsettled. And I wanted that bastard out of my sight as soon as possible, so-"

"No, ok, listen here." Stan rubbed his face again, a deeper, more concerning frown twisting his features. "I know you're more used at this whole multiverse bullshit than I am, but this is... You really- do you even care about where you are, or who you are with? Because it really looks like you're giving many fewer fucks about this mess than any sane person would." "Of course I care. As I said, this is disconcerting news, but it doesn't- it shouldn't change where we stand. You shouldn't think any less of your objectively astounding merits, I shouldn't feel any less at home in this dimension just because I wasn't born here. Hell Stanley, we shouldn't doubt the value of what we have built just because a few numbers don't match, when everything else, down to our memories, does!" "Easy to say for you. It's not your head that got turned inside out..." Stan frowned even more, then shook his head and bent slightly forwards. "That's not the point though. Are you really not seeing this? Is this where you really want to be? Are you absolutely sure you aren't forgetting anything?" "Are you seriously asking me why I'm not running off this instant?" Ford tapped his fingers on the table nervously, starting to grow impatient. "If it is some sort of declaration you're looking for, I'll own it, and gladly. I love you, and you know I do. I cherish our travels and your company just as much as you do, and I wouldn't relinquish them for anything. Though I am honestly surprised that you're insinuating the opposite." Stan stood up and started pacing around the room nervously, not in the least reassured by Ford's forwardness. Why, Ford couldn't fathom. Suddenly, he smashed his fist against the table, causing Ford to almost jump in surprise. His brother looked positively fuming. "You love me, uh? You say it just like that, but... alright, here's a question for you, Poindexter. If you really love me, if you're really all sparkly-eyed and filled with unbridled affection and oh so ready to do anything for my precious peace of mind, how come you aren't sparing a single thought to this other Stanley, who is just like me, just as much worthy and brave, just as much undeserving of guilt or contempt, who has been breaking his back and mind for thirty goddamn years to bring you back from sci-fi hell? Doesn't he deserve to have you back, instead of having you gallivanting around alternate dimensions and fucking alternate brothers?" Ford couldn't do anything but gape in shock at the vehemence of his brother's words. In the last decades, he had fought monsters, aliens, demons without sparing a single thought to his own safety and without ever cowering before any opponent, yet, had he been standing up, he would have taken a step back when Stan marched right in front of him, jamming his index in Ford's chest accusingly. "And mind that, Ford. To have you back. You. Not any other Pines, or clone, or doppelganger, or random lookalike. You. His own brother. Call me or any other Stanley stupid, but I'm pretty sure none of us ever thought that your sixth fingers were what made you unique." Ford could swear Stan was trying to bore a hole in his face just with the sheer power of his glare. He found he couldn't quite reply, nor really weasel out of that scorching aura of disdain for a whole, endless, oppressive minute. "I-" "I'm going to bed. This bullshit is giving me a migraine." Stan stormed out of the room without another word. His rage kept permeating the room like a suffocating cloud. Ford walked out on the deck, taking a few deep breaths of the chilled Arctic air. The night was beautifully serene and clear. Stars shone, bright and vivid, tracing known shapes and silhouettes on the deep darkness above. The constellations had seemed incredibly familiar and welcoming when Ford had first seen them after coming back from the portal. How little it had taken for them to look like a cheap trick instead, a sly illusion of reliability in a house full of mirrors. For the second time in eight months, and in more than thirty years, Ford felt lonely.