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damn-stark · 4 months ago

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Chapter 10 Heart of Ice

Chapter 10 of Moonlight

A/N- I was giggling and kicking my feet tehehe ;)

Warning- some swearing, talks of miscarriage and death, ANGST!, FLUFF, mild NFSW, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x01

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

There it is, standing so tall that it looks like it’s touching the sky. It’s mesmerizing no matter how many times you’ve seen it, and it never fails to steal your breath.

Yet the wall is at its prettiest when it weeps when the sun hits it just as it rises from the ground. Right now all it does is bring forth an icier chill as the wind blows, making you hold onto your cloak for warmth.

You can only imagine how Jacaerys is fairing, this is his first time at Castle Black.

“How are you holding up?” You make sure to ask your brother as his eyes stay stuck on the towering wall.

“My balls are about to freeze off,” he makes no effort to talk properly in front of you, nor do you remind him to.

You smile at him and look at him with a soft endearment only reserved for those you deeply cherish. “It will be worth it, I promise. I cannot wait for you to see it,” you muse and cup his shoulder.

Jacaerys finally takes his eyes off the wall and meets your gaze with such a warm smile that it’s capable of melting the thickest sheets of ice.

“It better live up to everything you have said,” he remarks lightheartedly, making you drop your head to laugh softly at the ground.

“It will pass your expectations,” Cregan interjects as he finally rejoins you and leads the way to the lift that looks a bit unreliable, but all the people at Castle Black use it, and you have survived after using it so, you walk in. Slowly of course, and you don’t dare pay too much attention to the sounds it makes as it starts moving Jacaerys, Cregan, and you to the top.

“You know,” you take the attention of the rackety noise. “Perhaps one day I will send one of my children over here to take up a role as guardian of the wall.”

“Is that so?” Cregan probes.

“One of your seven?” Jacaerys jokes and you laugh softly but don’t take back what you said, catching him by some surprise.

“It’s a rare thing for a Targaryen or Velaryon to come be a brother of the Night's Watch,” you explain your thought process to the curious men. “But we are the families the people look up to. I mean I understand the sacrifice, but I believe that for us to have a good relation with the North, and for us to protect our realm against what may be out there, we too should be here with a dragon or two.”

Cregan briefly meets your gaze and hides well those emotions you stir up inside since your brother is standing at his other side, but he doesn’t stay quiet, he takes a deep breath before he parts his lips.

“You are right, the sacrifice one must commit is great, but duty is sacrifice,” Cregan begins to say. “It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honor must pay its price. The North owes a great duty to the Seven Kingdoms, one older than any oath. Since the day of the first men, we have stood as guardians against the cold and the dark. Through its long tradition, the Night's Watch cultivated its strength from doomed men who had their life as their only possession. But my ancestor, Torrhen Stark began a tradition by making an offering at the onset of winter; one in 10 men from our household was to be chosen to fortify the Watch. This is not a sentence but an honor. A duty embraced by all who serve the North. Even by mine own kin. Thus I respect your decision, My Princess.”

He talks so well that even these long comments captivate you, and that’s hard to do because you get so easily bored.

“The North must stand ready,” Cregan adds without losing a breath. “Winter is coming.”

“Coming?” Jacaerys interjects. “What is this, then, that falls from the skies and shivers my bones?”

You roll your eyes away and scoff softly.

He thinks he’s so funny.

“This is only a late summer snow, my prince,” Cregan says something he’s already mentioned once before. “In winter, it will cover all you see and all memories of warmth will be forgotten.”

You look through the gaps on the wooden walls but the lift then shakes so you step back and stand closer to Cregan.

“It pleases me to think that over a century ago our ancestors treated in this very place,” Jacaerys mentions with a lighthearted look on his face. “The Conqueror and the King in the North.”

You can’t help but smile at the thought and the history the Starks share with your ancestors. It’s so bittersweet. But it’s all so corny of Jacaerys to say, he sounds just as infatuated as you.

You would tease him, but now doesn’t seem like the time so you just smile wider to yourself.

Cregan’s gaze wanders to you after your brother's words, and you share some of that sweetness with him because regardless of it all, you are happy Jacaerys expressed his fondness for Cregan.

And when Cregan does see your smile some of that hardened demeanor melts.

“You, at least had the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon,” Cregan quips at your brother jokingly, leaving him silent until he queries.

“Did my sister threaten you with her dragon?”

Does he think of you as some wild beast or something?

Regardless, Cregan's eyes soften before he shakes his head and tells him what you did do. “No, but she did threaten to go over the wall and escape when she first got to Winterfell six years ago.” He says and tilts his head over to you, but you look out the window and shake your head.

“I was having a hard time adjusting,” you remind him. “And I did not end up going over the wall.”

“No,” he mutters softer as if speaking with admiration. “You did not.”

You lift your eyes off the icy wall and let yourself meet and hold his gaze with a soft look just until the lift finally lands on the top because when it comes to a sudden halt the wooden lift shakes, and you’re reminded why you hate coming to the top this way—You almost reach out to Cregan to keep yourself balanced and safe, but you stop yourself and just stand stiffly until finally he opens the door for you and your brother, letting you feel like you can breathe again when you’re on stable ground.

“My Prince, My Princess,” one of the brothers greets you while you slip your arm around your brothers to hold onto more warmth as the coldness nips at your skin.

“My Lord.”

“My Lord,” other brothers greet Cregan while he walks after you until finally he catches up and leads you to one side.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would’ve sooner died than bent the knee,” you chose to return to the previous topic as you watch Jacaerys’ eyes fall on every single detail you pass by. “Unless he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms.”

Cregan nods. “You are right in that,” he agrees.

“That unity is now threatened,” Jacaerys goes on for you with another clever workaround to the subject at hand. “The realm will soon tear itself apart if men do not remember the oaths sworn to King Viserys and to his rightful heir.”

Again you can’t help but be proud of the way he speaks. But you also know this second attempt won’t mend Cregan Stark’s choice.

“Stark’s do not forget their oaths, my Prince,” Cregan reminds him proudly. “But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between North and South.”

Jacaerys glances over at you with discreet disappointment, and you press him an, ��I told you so’ look right back.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing,” Cregan strengthens his argument. “I need my men here.”

You swallow thickly as you come to a halt just under a post, and Jacaerys turns you around with him to pass Cregan a hard look that furrows his eyebrows. “Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne,” he remarks.

You grip onto him as a warning for him to calm down, but he doesn’t understand.

“If my mother is to defend her claim,” Jacaerys presses while Cregan guides all of you up the stairs. “To hold the realm united she needs an army. War is coming to the whole of the realm, my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North…” Jacaerys trails off when he reaches the top and finally sees with his own eyes the never-ending land beyond the wall, the beauty that you promised, and what you could never fully describe in words.

He moves toward the end of the post and you let your arm slip off his to let him admire for himself the beauty and the mystery that is the North, and the freedom it holds in its cold wilderness.

You can now honestly say you know the pride Cregan felt when he first brought you up here because you feel it. You are not from here, but seeing your brother be so captivated by what’s beyond the wall makes you fill with excitement that you can’t put into words, you can just express it with admiration and awe in your eyes.

Cregan notices and admires you while your brother's attention is far away, and to his surprise, you feel his stare and return his soft gaze while you also let your gloved knuckles brush against each other as you let yourself be swooped up once again by the comfort you have been fighting to feel.

Yet you don’t let yourself get completely carried away, nor do you cross the line by letting your fingers touch, you keep your smile and join your brother's side.

“Was it everything you expected?” You ask before you’re brought back to the cruel reality.

Jacaerys laughs softly and nods. “It was everything you said and more…it feels like I could stay here and admire this forever.”

“It would get cold,” you joke, making him chuckle.

“It would be pleasant,” he murmurs.

You nod in agreement and dread returning to the sore subject, but you will lose yourself.

“I brought your sister, and my father brought King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to see the Wall,” Cregan finally rejoins your company. “His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons the greatest power in the world, refused to cross it.”

Jacaerys snaps his head to you and probes for more. “Even adventurous Astraea?”

You look out and nod. “Yes. She perches herself on the wall but never once does she fly over, nor does she dare fly over just to turn. I tried to command her to cross but she disobeyed me,” you back up Cregan's argument and feel a chill crawl down your spine at the reminder.

“Do you think my ancestors built a 700-hundred-foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?” Cregan presses your brother in a colder tone that almost works to frighten you.

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan leans in closer to your brother and speaks one word. “Death.”

You swallow back nervously and share your uneasiness with your brother with a simple look that actually helps him let go of some of that tension and ignorance he held.

“I have thousands of graybeards,” Cregan finally offers and breaks the speechless moment between Jacaerys and you. “Who've already seen too many winters. They are well-honed.”

You loll your head to the side and snicker, while Jacaerys says what you were thinking. “So they’re old?”

“I can ready them to march at once,” Cregan assures him and you.

Jacaerys breathes out and accepts the offer. “If your graybeards can fight, the Queen will have them.”

“They will fight hard,” Cregan states with a hint of pride and some faint smugness. “Like Northerners.”

You glance over at him and catch that smugness on his usually serious face and you can’t help your heart from skipping a beat when he glances at you with the same look.

“My Lord,” a man calls for Cregan’s attention, making his face fall hard once again. “A ravens arrived.”

The man approaches the post breathing hard as if in a hurry and hands Cregan a scroll. “Urgent news from Dragonstone,” he announces, making you understand his urgency, and causing you to fall serious and nervous yourself.

But if it is bad news wouldn't it be sent directly to Jacaerys and you?

Maybe?

Unless—

You can’t let yourself think the worst, but you still share your worry with your brother before you watch Cregan unravel the scroll to read what the news is.

He doesn’t take long to read, but it feels like he is reading for eternity in the waiting silence until finally he puts the scroll down and meets your gaze. This time when you lock eyes your heart skips a beat out of worry instead of awe, this time a smugness doesn’t play in his eyes or tug the corner of his lips up, his eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched like when he makes his face hard, but you can read him clear as day as you simply hold his gaze.

You can see the pity pulling his lips down, and a soft apologetic look in his grey eyes that makes them appear darker. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that what he read wasn’t a simple warning or a call home, they’re dark words that he almost but says.

You want to ask, he knows that, he sees your worry heighten in your furrowed brows and parted lips, so with a simple blink his face softens as he gives you sorrow, making your eyes immediately cloud with tears. While in the back, Jacaerys sees it, your shared past. He figures it out in the exchange that is far more complex than one friends should share, but it all makes sense now.

Your friendship always slightly caught his attention, it bugged him in some way. Not because he felt bad for Aemond that you were so sweet on another man, but all your interactions were always weird he just didn’t figure out why until this very moment as Cregan fails to look over at him after what he read, as he watches this speechless interaction and sees the deep aching softness on the Lord's face and a deep set heartache in your eyes.

He had only seen such a speechless complexity in his mother and Ser Harwin. He was too young to realize it then but as he got older he understood what happened around him, and doesn’t fail to understand now.

Yet as much as he wants to give into this anger he feels boil within him at the thought of Lord Stark taking advantage of you in your five years in Winterfell, the news that awaits him helps him stay collected. Thus he steps forward without causing a scene and finally, Lord Stark drives all the attention to him, letting him finally receive the scroll, and leave you waiting longer without focusing on Cregan any longer. Now you turn to face your brother as he reads what was sent.

Once again it feels like what was written is getting read at an infuriatingly slow pace, but now you’re not impatient to know. You’re scared to know or read Jacaerys' face now. But you keep your eyes on your brother and watch his jaw unclench and his lips part to let out a soft gasp, while his once steady hands begin to tremble, and his eyes…water.

“Jacaerys,” you almost plead his name out.

That anger he had at the waiting completely disappears and he slowly looks up at you with a loud and heartbreaking sorrow.

“Jace,” you mewl.

Said man licks his lips and sniffles before he grabs your arm and gently pulls you aside.

“Listen to me,” his voice quivers and only makes your heart race faster than it’s already beating.

“Is it…” you trail off to catch your breath. “A-Aerion?”

Jacaerys shakes his head and keeps in those tears that fill his eyes. “No, Aerion is fine,” he assures you but you don’t feel relieved.

“What?” You beg for an answer and reach for his hands, but he lifts them and tucks loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“When,” he says shakily. “Lucerys was in StormsEnd, Aemond…”

You start to shake your head and his bottom lip trembles.

“Aemond killed Lucerys,” Jacaerys finally reveals quietly.

A cold breeze hits you and all that you had been feeling gets lost in the wind, leaving you numb.

Jacaerys calls your name but you stare ahead blankly. Theres nothing that crosses your mind, there’s nothing you feel that makes you react. You know it’s heavy and painful news, you knew they were dark words when Cregan told you speechlessly, but you can’t accept the truth that’s given. You don’t want to, you can’t because if you do then it means you will accept that your husband, the man you love…did what was written, and you don’t want to accept that.

However, Jacaerys calls out for you again and this time he grabs your arms and steals your attention, forcing you to once again connect to what you refused to feel.

“No,” you blurt and push him back. “You’re lying. You’re a liar.”

Jacaerys shows you the scroll as he gets close again. “You can read it yourself. It’s the truth, Lucerys…he’s,” he strains to say. “He’s…dead.”

Your heart drops and a flood of emotions rams through you, knocking the air out of your lungs, and making your legs weak.

Jacaerys grabs your arms and holds you up before you can fall and pulls you to him, letting you see how red his eyes are, and how drowned they are with tears he’s holding back.

“Jace,” you mewl and cover your mouth to sob.

Your brother nods in understanding without you having to express the rest of your sorrow. “I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

“Oh gods,” you gasp and drop your head while grabbing at your chest as you can’t seem to catch a breath. You can’t breathe. There’s so much air where you are, it’s so crisp but you can’t manage to take in any which in return only lets you feel the pounding of your heart, the rushing of your blood, and a rush of memories of your little brother Lucerys.

All you can think about is Lucerys, you imagine his last moments, and with every memory and every fake scenario the more you fail to grasp for air.

In the distance, Cregan watches how you’re breaking down, but no matter how much he wants to, he has to stay put even if it hurts not being able to help you when you need him the most. He does get close to trying something small since you are in so much pain trying to breathe, and your brother seems a bit lost on how to help you, but Jacaesys then does the first thing he thinks of and pulls you into an embrace.

Thankfully right away, at the feeling of your brother's weight, and at the feeling of his warmth, all those rushing memories slowly disappear, letting you draw in a deep breath. You pull him closer and bury your head in the crook of his neck whilst you wrap your hand around the back of his neck, and push his head down to let him bury his face on your shoulder so he can express everything he refuses to show to the public.

When he clutches onto the back of your cloak your heart comes to a slow pace, but it doesn’t stop weeping. With every ba-dum, you feel an aching pain in your chest that doesn’t go away.

Eventually, after a short time, Jacaerys pulls back and gives his back to Cregan to wipe away his tears before facing him with a sorrow that isn’t able to wipe off. “We need to go, my Lord. You’ll have to forgive us for not accompanying you back to Winterfell, but with our dragons here we need to make haste to return to Dragonstone.”

You grab at your chest and gently caress it as if that would cure you’re heartache while Jacaerys shares something you agree to without the need for a discussion.

Albeit Cregan is the one who protests. “It will get dark soon, why do you not wait until first light to take flight? Wait until you both have collected yourselves so you don't do anything rash in the heat of the moment.”

You shake your head and interject in a broken voice. “The storm won’t pass, Lord Stark. We’ll just face it head-on and leave, our mother needs us.”

Cregan steps forward, gaining a brief glance from you. “Just eat, and rest…I know the pain of losing a brother, I understand your grief, my heart is with you,” he tries to relate so you would listen. “I have lost many others too, I know the anger, please just let yourselves calm down before you return home. I will stay with you here.”

You know your brother too, you know how angry he can get. You know that once your grief really settles you’ll also start thinking of what happened and you’ll get upset too. Thus you don’t hurry to answer, you look at your brother and he looks at you. And without a word, you come to the same conclusion.

“All right,” Jacaerys says for the both of you. “We will stay, but leave at first light. Thank you, my Lord.”

——

*LATER*

Nothing makes sense.

Why? How?

Those questions are what runs around and around in your head accompanied by different terrifying scenarios that could’ve led to the act. A lot of it points to an accident, you want to believe in your heart of hearts that what…Aemond did was an accident. You don’t want to believe that this remorse got the best of him, he’s supposed to be better, he’s supposed to keep it in for your sake.

He knows how much you love your brothers, he knows he can hate them all he wants, but he can’t hurt them. And yes! You know that war was going to happen no matter what, and violence was going to be dragged in between your families, but Aemond went out of his way to…kill Lucerys when all he was was an envoy.

He killed your brother. Your husband killed your brother, and in turn, betrayed you in the worst way possible. He tore your heart out, and what hurts more is that he hasn’t said what he did in the multiple ravens he’s sent! Just like always, he never tells you a thing!

What are you supposed to believe, but the worst? You want to believe he’s good behind all that hard demeanor, you defend him against your family when they say something bad because you want to believe he has a good heart, but what does killing Lucerys prove? That you’ve been wrong all along?

Gods!

Damn it! Why did he have to do it? Why did he take Lucerys?

A knock raps on your door, but you’re so drowned in your heartache that you don’t hear the sound. It’s not until you hear your name being called out softly behind that door that you almost wake up from your stupor.

“It is I, Cregan,” he announces without the need to, you knew who he was the moment he uttered the first word. “Can I talk to you? You didn’t come for supper.”

You blink repeatedly to relieve the dry spell in your eyes after not blinking for a few seconds and clutch onto the ring you were fiddling with before you get up and unlock the door. You don’t proceed to say anything, you walk away from the door and stand against the fireplace, but Cregan takes the unlocked door as an invitation and walks in, finding your food untouched, you in your nightgown, and your head down.

“I came to check on you,” he says softly as if careful not to hurt you even more with his voice. When he gets no response or even a small breath, he walks in further and notices now how unkempt you are; you’re usually so precise with the way you keep yourself, you always look so clean and tidy, it was only in the morning when you first woke up that he would catch you off guard, but now it’s like you don’t care how you look.

“I hope you are not going to bed with your hair down like that,” he tries to be lighthearted. “You hate having your hair tangled in the morning.”

He waits for a reaction, a soft ‘oh’, but you stay quiet and it just deepens his concern.

“Darling,” he uses your pet name and you finally break from your stupor and turn partially to face him.

He expected a sweet look just out of instinct, but those usually wonder-filled eyes are clouded by agony and tears that can’t even fall down your cheeks anymore; while the fires fierce light brings clarity to your deep set frown, knitted brows, and puffy face worn out from crying.

“Here,” he breathes out and catches a gleam coming from in between your fingers. When he fills his curiosity he notices that the firelight is dancing on a sapphire ring you cannot stop fiddling with in between your fingers; a ring he had not seen you take off once since he saw you. Which must mean your husband gave it to you.

He doesn’t want to ask for many reasons, so he approaches you from behind and gently starts braiding your hair in silence you cannot seem to fill. It’s almost like there was no one inside your body, you were a hollow body left soulless.

“I understand why you locked your door,” he mentions in hopes that would get him a simple reaction. “However, it does not seem necessary, your dragons are restless and it stirs up fear in the brothers. And I am here as well.”

Your back raises as you draw in a deep breath, but rather than filling the silence with a dry response, or some remark, you just breathe out, making him steal a glance at the side of your face that he can see from behind you, before he pulls out the leather strip that keeps half of his hair out of his face to keep your own braid in place instead. He then proceeds to shuffle to your side to grab your arm.

“Sit down, Princess.” He commands softly.

You don’t fight him, you let him guide you down to your seat, and once he’s feeding the fire more wood your hoarse voice finally fills the room.

“I should have gone back to King's Landing…A—He sent me a raven the day after when my grandsire the King died. He didn’t tell me of course, but he told me to go back…I should have listened, I…” you pause to catch your breath. “Maybe then Lucerys…” you trail off and whimper whilst you drop your head in your hands.

Cregan leaves the last piece of wood in the fire and then wipes his hands on his shirt while he stands up to close the gap between you.

“Don't,” he says firmly and crouches down in front of you to grab your hands and pull them down so you can meet his gaze. “Do not blame yourself for your brother's death. What happened is not your fault to carry. What happened is dealt with, don’t dwell on things that can no longer happen.”

You hold his gaze while you process his words for a second and then look down at the ring you still hold.

“I’m sorry,” he says sorrowful words that bring your heart some comfort, but also make your body tremble while those tears that you once couldn’t muster, come rushing down your already stained cheeks.

Nothing else is spoken, and nothing is asked of either of you, but out of instinct your arms slip around his neck, and he returns the embrace and follows you to your feet where he keeps holding you and lets you cry on his shoulder; for hours? For a few seconds? You don’t know, you dwell in his comfort that you missed and relish in it until you stop crying.

He probably should have been the one to pull away, but he doesn’t complain, not once. He lets you pull back on your own time, and even then he grabs your arms to keep you close so he can cup your cheeks and caress them for a final piece of comfort to your aching heart.

Yet that proves to be a mistake because as you linger in his proximity, your eyes fall on his lips and you’re overwhelmed with a passion-filled heat that pushes your lips against his.

At first, Cregan is so stunned by the warmth of your lips on his, and then he’s taken by the excitement of feeling your lips reconnecting that he closes his eyes and kisses you back, but when his lust begins to rush through his blood he pulls back and groans.

“No,” he shakes his head and slides his hands down your face to grab your shoulders, leaving a burning trail down your skin. “You are married. No matter what happened you are still married, and you’re grieving.”

You want to forget your pain for a moment and be consumed by the comfort, bliss, and excitement he provides, but he’s also right. And how can you do that to Aemond…

But…

Maybe you don’t care if it hurts him because he hurt you. He won’t know either way—But you will know, you will know that it’s something that can hurt him, and you…don’t care. But Cregan…is right.

“I’m sorry,” you throw out and step away from him, feeling a chill hit those parts of you that he kept warm with his touch—“you are right. I’m sorry.”

Cregan turns away and swallows back thickly, feeling somewhat disappointed that he has to turn down this heat of the moment. “Perhaps I shall bid you a goodnight now.”

You swallow back to hide your disappointed sigh and nod. “Yes, goodnight Cregan.”

Said man avoids looking at you when he turns. It makes it easier to walk away from you. But when his hand touches the door handle he doesn’t turn it to open it, he stands there frozen with his back turned to you as he feels his honor start to slip.

He turns his head but doesn’t peek over right away, he fights himself but quickly falters when he feels the ghost of your wet lips haunting his. And when he fully looks back and sees the shadow of your sculpted figure in your white nightgown his inner battle is lost. He only proves his loss by locking the door and turning completely to face you, turning around as well.

“Cregan?” You query, puzzled by his presence.

Said man draws out a deep breath before he strides back to you with determination in his step and surprises you by grabbing your face the moment he can. You want to utter his name, but a small gasp is all that goes past your lips whilst you drop the ring that Aemond had gifted you.

“I pride myself in my honor,” he says while his eyes flicker between your parted lips and your shocked gaze. “But when it comes to you it’s turned to ash, nothing stops me from wanting you, from…” he trails off and leans forward, but you don’t allow your lips to touch. You shift your head away, but he follows you to keep your breaths unfurling over each other's lips.

“…desiring you in every way a gentleman shouldn’t. I burn for you when you’re far, and even when I dream of you. It is wrong.” He nods, and you nod too without much effort. “But you are my weakness, you have always been my weakness. You’re my joy, the reason I laugh, and also the reason I don’t march to King's Landing and bring you to Winterfell to make you mine,” he whispers against your lips, making a smile make an appearance on your saddened face.

“Tell me this is wrong, tell me to leave now,” he tells you and drags his eyes up to meet yours so you can know he’s being serious. “And I will. I will leave your chambers and when morning comes I’ll bid you farewell with no remorse and as nothing more than friends.”

As if being hypnotized to his lips you lean forward, but only let your lips brush, leaving your heart pounding as it screams for you to connect.

“I still have to leave,” you make it known while you gently cup his jaw to touch some part of him. “I have to return to Dragonstone no matter what.”

Cregan’s eyebrows pinch together and he hesitates before he nods. “I understand,” he mutters and glances at your lips again. “But that doesn’t change a thing if you tell me to leave.”

You should. You're still married even if Aemond betrayed you by killing your brother. And deep deep down a lot of your conflict comes because you don’t know if you did stop loving the man who killed your brother, but that reason is also why you want to give in to your deepest burning desire.

That reason is why you’re selfish and don’t resist Cregan or stop your heart from swooning at his confession.

“Don’t leave,” is all he needs to hear to smile widely before he finally feeds your desire by kissing you slowly, fueling that passionate heat that completely takes over your body, and leaving you still and breathless for a moment as you relish in the sweet taste of his soft lips melting with yours, guiding your every movement, and driving you mad with lust.

You had forgotten this dream-like feeling, you had forgotten how fast he makes your heart race when he’s kissing you, and you forgot how hot you burn when his fingers explore the perimeters of your body. Furthermore, you forgot how eager he can get until you feel his grip on the back of your gown.

You pull away quickly and protest. “No, no, wait, do not rip it.”

Cregan fingers loosen and you start to giggle. “Why do you always want to rip my gowns?” You bring up, making his lips lift to a smirk.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between heavy breaths.

You press a kiss on his lips and then tell him, “gently.”

He breathes out deeply and nods once before he slides his fingers back to the ribbon tying your gown together, and slowly begins to untie it while you drift your lips to kiss the corner of his mouth, and then kiss his jaw before you graze your lips up and kiss the corner of his jaw.

Cregan lets out a groan from the back of his throat, making you feel chills grow on your skin.

“I hate all these layers,” he musters while you continue to leave a trail of kisses down to his neck. “They are so infuriating.”

You smile against his neck, causing you to feel his nails dig in your skin.

“It keeps me warm,” you tell him and lick a stripe up to his lips. “Your North is cold, my Lord.”

Cregan clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “A little less with your presence,” he completely wins you over, making you grin and look at him in awe.

“I missed you,” he finally lets himself confess to you. “My darling love.”

You sigh and whisper back. “I missed you too.”

His eyes gleam brighter and that short absence is filled once again with your lips while he finally slips off your gown, leaving you under a simple sheer gown that he slips off with ease.

“You’re beautiful,” he says with awe, and his eyes dark with lust.

“It’s no fair,” you argue between kisses and slowly drag your hands down to help him pull off his layers. “And you say I wear a lot of layers,” you comment, making him scoff.

You finally end up pulling the last one off and throw it to the side mindlessly as you’re captivated by his toned torso and those thick arms that he unfairly hides under all those garments.

“Kiss me,” you command in a voice oozing with honey.

“Gladly,” is all he says before capturing your face to smash his lips on yours and this time make out more roughly as he’s filled with a much more hungry need.

Your own need lets you multitask by unbuckling his pants and tugging on them so he can pull them off in the brief pause you have between devouring each other. Yet when his member is out for you to see, you take a moment to admire how girthy and hard it is, and how perfect every vein is on his length.

You can’t help but start to go on your knees, but he grabs your bicep and pulls you back up to drift you away from that need.

“No,” he says out of breath and instead wraps his arms around you, and presses his lips on your neck to start leaving wet kisses on your flesh while he also slides his hands down your body, making you shiver at the feeling of his warm hands caressing you gently.

Without lifting his mouth off your neck he drifts his hand behind your knee, and with no explanation, he pulls your leg up to help you climb up and wrap your legs around his waist so he can walk you back to the edge of the bed, and gently put you down.

Once you’re lying on your back he pulls back but leans down to press his hands beside your head, and simply hold your gaze with this endearing look that makes his eyes smile.

“I'm going inside you,” he warns you, making you shiver and swallow thickly as you already imagine the stretch. “You need to be quiet.”

You part your lips but utter nothing, instead, you lift your head and he responds by giving you what you wanted, a deep kiss, while he grabs his length and aligns himself with your hole. When his tip touches you you gasp and he grins before taking your lips again to distract you while he slowly penetrates you.

Albeit the stretch is so wonderful and filling that you claw your nails on his back and scratch his back as he keeps going in deeper. Once all the way inside he finally pulls his face back to whisper. “You were made for me. You belong with me.”

You don’t respond with words, you cup his cheeks and brush strands of his hair behind his ears before you slide your hand to the back of his neck to gently pull him down. “Cregan make me yours,” you finally fill the silence, feeling as if his cock hardens even more before he finally starts moving his hips, filling you with a blinding ecstasy that heightens this passionate moment, and makes you only think about him and the pleasure he feels and gives you. You forget your sorrows and the grudge. You forget the war and the responsibilities you have.

You’re selfish in the lust-filled night and remain ignorant even before it's time to get out of bed. You just relish in Cregan's presence for a bit longer.

“Cregan…” you whisper, and the man hums in response letting you sigh before you share what’s been bothering you. “I do not like that I am the reason you disregard your honor. I do not like putting you through that.”

The hand on your back stops moving and a small huff rolls out of his nose. “I think it’s late to start thinking about that.”

You blink repeatedly with discontent and abruptly sit up to face him. “I am not jesting,” you press sharply. “I’m being serious. You hold your honor in high regard, I hate to be the one who makes it falter.”

A faint smile tugs on his lips without regard to your comment before he leans forward and assures you. “I have my honor, I never forget it, but I love you more. I’m being selfish without disregarding everything to be it. I know how to hold myself back,” he says firmly and cups your cheek to bring you closer to him. “I know where I stand, I am just choosing to have a taste of happiness. You, my darling, are my happiness.”

Your eyes water and your heart swoons, there’s nothing you can say that would measure up to the kind things he just said, all you can do is press a lingering kiss on his warm lips before you lay your head down on his chest, and hold onto him like he’s your security blanket.

“I…could offer you and your Aerion refuge here,” he offers and makes your pounding heart hurt.”

“Here? In Castle Black?” You tease without sounding too amused.

Cregan scoffs and starts to caress your arm. “Not here. In Winterfell,” he clarifies without a hint of falter at the mention of your son who is fathered by someone else who does bring him pangs of jealousy every time he remembers you’re married, and when he hears his name. “I would make sure no one could touch you and your boy there. He wouldn’t have to grow up around so much violence and you would not have to worry.”

You tilt your head down to kiss his shoulder before you give his offer an answer. “It's a nice offer, but my place is not hiding in a cage like some frightened bird. My place is out there, with my mother, with my brother, and the rest of my family fighting with the dragon I have. My mother needs me and I don’t want to leave her alone.”

Cregan doesn’t interject with anything, his chest rises and slowly falls back down, letting you know your response slightly wounded him.

“Instead of having her husband with her when she lost my sister,” you begin to say quieter but filled with frustration. “Daemon was out leading her council. I was the one who held her when she cradled my sister's lifeless body. I…have to be there for her now.”

“I understand,” he doesn’t falter to assure you. “But you must know if you ever find yourself needing somewhere to go, Winterfell is yours. You and your son are welcome.”

You lift your head off him to face him in the little space left between you. “I will always remember that. Thank you,” you say from the bottom of your heart.

A smile twitches on his serious face, and he proceeds to press a feathered kiss on your lips before he grins and says. “Sing for me? Just for me.”

You giggle and gently smack his shoulder. “No,” you answer bluntly and lay back down basically on him.

“Why not?” He chuckles. “It's not like you have to fear enchanting me with your song, you already have.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. Anyway!” You change the subject. “I was supposed to stop writing to you. I had already planned it.”

Cregan sighs and his chin rests on the top of your head. “I know,” he mutters. “You stopped writing as much as you would recently.”

Your smile falls but you grow desperate and hopeful. “But…you will answer me when I write to you in the weeks to come, right?”

He shrugs and interjects. “If that’s what you want, I will.”

You nod softly. “I do.”

You lift yourself up again to face him so he knows you’re being sincere. “I do.”

He grabs your cheek and his eyes soften. “Are you frightened?” He makes sure to ask.

You swallow thickly and shake your head. “No. Nervous, but not scared.”

He smirks and slides his hand down to caress your chin. “That’s my girl. You know how to fight, use that.” He tells you.

You laugh nervously. “I’ve never had to actually use my skill for violence.”

Your swordsmanship and your skills with archery were never for the intent of being some warrior, you like the idea of being like Queen Visenya Targaryen, and Princess Alyssa, but mostly your need to be trained with a sword and with archery was because you took it as a challenge. They said you couldn’t have it and you challenged them. Thus now that you’re having to face this war and the potential of having to use your skill, you’re honestly quite nervous.

You’ve never admitted that. You don’t want to admit it to anyone but him so they don't feel like you aren’t reliable.

“It won’t be easy,” Cregan says the truth. “But when you face your enemy, do not hesitate. Think quickly but be smart and do not let them gain the upper hand. You have a dragon, use her, and you have skill, good skill. Use it.”

You let out a shaky breath and nod in comprehension. He offers you a gentle smile and pulls you down to press his forehead against yours.

“You must know I will wait for you. Just a while longer.”

Asking what will happen after a while passes scares you, so you leave it be and just give him an honest response. “If fate ends up letting me choose, I will finally come home to you.”

He flashes you a charming smile that eases that worry in your heart and only works to sink you further down into this little escape.

“Now,” he coos against your lips. “Will you sing for me?”

You roll your eyes with a flattered smile featured on your face before you pull away to lay back on his chest and finally do as he asks of you as a parting gift where there aren't multiple people watching you, and pushing you down to hide or pretend that you’re nothing more than friends. You sing him a song for only him to hear before you take your leave and face reality once again.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. DRAGONSTONE*

What good is actually facing reality? Facing a dead beloved brother, and the fact that it was someone who you loved that killed him?

Dragonstone is a painful reminder of what happened while you were away. Only now that pain in your heart is tenfold and you don’t think anyone can actually know the pain that plagues you. Who can truly understand what it is you carry? No one is married to the man who killed Lucerys. They can hate him with ease, but you?

You want to despise him, you fought yourself the entire flight back to Dragonstone to hate him and view him as another enemy, to view him like you view Aegon, but as much as you think you hate him, your heart fights hard to try and tell a different tale. And that’s what makes it worse.

Thus it's easier, it was almost healing, having an escape with Cregan, but now there’s no one who will silence your cries. And what makes matters worse is facing your heartbroken mother. You don’t like seeing her cry or be hurt, when she lost Visenya your pain could never equate to what she was feeling, but you hurt too with every groan, with all the blood that she spilled, and every sob. Now you’re moments away from her and your heart and soul are already shattering.

However, after you watch your dragon disappear into the caves with Vermax, and take a step inside the castle, a hand wraps around your forearm and you’re pulled into a dark dead end where there aren't prying eyes or nearby ears.

��<Tell me the truth,” Jacaerys spats in a whisper so no one would hear the sound of his words also protected by High Valyrian. “About you and Lord Stark.>”

You can’t help yourself, you blink repeatedly in disbelief and gape like a fish out of water.

“< There's no point in lying,” he only further surprises you. “I figured it out when he got the letter from Dragonstone. I would see it every time you would talk but I never pieced it together until yesterday. It all made sense then, the glances, what you would tell each other, and every story you told about him.>”

Tears fill your eyes and your heart echos in your ears as you’re struck with shame. Not for loving another man, but that Jacaerys found out.

“<He touched you?>” He proceeds to ask in your shocked silence.

And it’s in that silence where he figures out your unspoken response and finally lets go of your arm to turn away with a scoff.

“<He never forced himself on me,” you defend Cregan. “Everything we did was because we wanted it to happen. We love each other.>”

Jacaerys turns on his heels with frustration and clutches onto your arms to sneer. “<You saw how much mother suffered because she was with Ser Harwin. Did you not learn anything?>”

You know he’s remarking all that stuff to your face because he cares. He’s being thoughtful in his way but it doesn’t stop you from crying, and when you shed tears you hit a cord in your brother's heart and he lets go of you with a sigh.

“<If you weren’t already married I would turn back and force him, but alas,>,” he mutters and sighs again before turning and dropping his head in his hands.

“<He would’ve too,” you defend his honor. “But I did not want Aemond to hurt him with Vhagar. I choose not to marry him, please don’t blame him. He’s a good man.>”

Jacaerys shakes his head in disappointment and turns to face you with his eyes narrowed into a fierce glare and his lips curled in a snarl. “How am I not supposed to blame him?” He remarks in the common tongue. “He had his way with you and did not do what he was supposed to do! What an honorable man would do!”

“I told you already, I told him not to because of Aemond.”

Jacaerys grabs his face and rubs the bridge of his nose, so you continue to try and calm him down.

“He was always respectful and kind. And…” you pause and lick your lips before you utter the reality. “There’s nothing you can do about it now. There's no use in being upset, I am married and that won’t change even if I love him unless Aemond dies. So please,” you plead softer and step towards him to grab his arm so he can face you. “Please Jace, keep it a secret. No one must know. It’s in the past. Please don’t tell a soul.”

Jacaerys eyes snap to you and he clenches his jaw as he looks at you thoughtfully for a few agonizing moments before he sighs and whispers. “Fine. I will not tell anyone only because there’s nothing I can do now.”

You sigh with relief and wipe away your tears before you offer him a thankful smile and a sweeter comment. “Thank you so much. Thank you, Jace, really. I love you.”

Jacaerys lets out a deep breath and his face slowly lets that frustration go, and instead slowly falls to express a soft sorrow. You slide your hand down his arm to cup his hand and slowly mirror that grief as you remember what you lost and that pain you both now harbor.

No matter how hard you wish, there’s nothing in this world that can change what happened, no one can bring back your fallen brother. And what’s even crueler is that no matter how hopeful you were for the news to be a lie, you’re home now and that hope lies with Lucerys.

You both come to the same realization and speechlessly exchange it, bringing you both into each other's embrace to cry now without care.

And deep down you both want to stay close in just the way you are so neither of you run the risk of losing each other the way you lost Lucerys. It’s a foolish thought, but it’s one brought by grief, and a new fear set in both of your hearts because no matter how much you love your little brothers, nothing can compare to the bond the three of you had. A bond that now consists of Jacaerys and you. Just him and you.

“Jacaerys,” your moment is interrupted by a feminine voice that also speaks your name but does not belong to your mother. And when you both break away and look over you see Baela stand at the end of the hall with her hands clasped together and a pitiful look in her eyes.

“Baela,” you greet and wipe your tears away while Jacaerys turns to wipe his own tears away.

“Welcome back home,” she speaks sweetly.

You offer her a thankful nod before you walk over to her and meet her halfway with an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

You nod and then interject. “Thank you.” You pull back and glance around in search of her twin. “Where’s Rhaena?”

Baela sighs. “In her chambers.”

You wished to greet her just as you returned home, but now you’ll have to speak to her after you speak with your mother.

“And what about…” you trail off and hesitate. “What about my mother?”

Baela glances behind you as Jacaerys approaches you and then gives you the answer you wanted. “I’ll take you to her.”

You offer her a thankful smile and watch her walk to Jacaerys to wrap her arms around him and offer him sweeter condolences. When the moment passes she guides you to your mother and your heart begins to pound, while your stomach twists and makes you feel almost nauseous at the anticipation. You already know you’re going to break even more, but there’s something about thinking about your mother being heartbroken that already tears you apart.

And maybe a part of it is because…it feels like you had a hand in her heartbreak because it was your husband who killed Lucerys.

It was not really you, you know that. You were oblivious to your husband's affairs, but no matter what anyone says, yes, that’s what is dwelling within, your guilt. It rattles you to the point you can’t be comfortable in your own skin.

As you get closer to your mother's quarters breathing gets hard once again, and your surroundings begin to dim, leaving only the narrow path ahead visible. You want to run away and not face the pain you’ll see. But when the doors to your mother's quarters open and you see her sitting across the fireplace, alone and in the dark, that panic settles as if she was the fresh air you needed to calm down, leaving you with the need to be embraced by her warmth and comfort, while also giving the same in return.

“Your Grace,” you greet her softly once Baela clears the room and leaves only you and your brother with your mother.

Your pounding heart starts racing once again, but it’s not out of fear, it’s racing out of a need to ease your pain, and the pain you clearly see on her delicate face. Yet you hold strong with tears stinging in your eyes already.

“Lady Jayne Arryn has pledged her support,” Jacaerys breaks the emotional silence to share the support you both gained when you were away on a mission. “…In exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale,” you hear the tear in your brother's voice, and when you glance over at him you see him fiddling with his hands while his eyes grow more and more teary, making your already weak hold, falter.

You still want to continue for him, but when you part your lips you can’t utter a word, it’s all lost in your grief that heightens the longer you watch your mother.

“And,” Jacaerys continues sounding even more brokenhearted by the second. “Lord Cregan Stark,” he pauses and takes a deep breath, but doesn’t seem to find the will to finish. He falls breathless and that wall he usually has up to be perceived as strong, and a protector crumbles, leaving him shaky.

You reach over to grab his hand while tears start to roll out of your eyes as you trail on for him. “…Lord Stark…promised 2000 men,” you manage to share with all the might you can muster.

Your mother doesn’t respond, she instead stands from her seat with her face contorting with grief and approaches the both of you, making you completely lose the faltering hold you had on your emotions.

However, when she’s close, Jacaerys reaches out first and she welcomes him in her arms. You want to do the same, you’ve been aching for it, but your guilt hits you and you stand there frozen with your head down.

“Mother,” you mewl with streams of tears. “I’m…sorry.”

Your mother pulls away from Jacaerys just slightly, leaving her arm around his neck to approach you and caress your cheek with no disdain in her eyes; nor does she look at you like you were the one at fault, her eyes are sad, but she expresses her reassurance before she slides her arm around your neck and pulls you in her gentle embrace and confirms that she doesn’t hate or blame you.

It’s such a relieving comfort that it works to lift some weight off your chest. Weight Cregan couldn’t ease when he talked to you.

Now you can ease in your mother's embrace without feeling like she hates you. Now you can caress her back without the fear of getting rejected.

Soon thereafter, neither Jacaerys nor you attempt to leave your mother's comfort. Nor does it feel like your mother wants either of you to pull away from her embrace that protects her two eldest from the cruel reality that took her third child.

You stay interlinked and weep on each other's shoulders until she pulls away to face you both.

“I have been waiting for your return to light…Lucerys pyre,” she shares. “Is it fine if we light it tonight? The sun is setting and the winds are calm.”

You and Jacaerys don’t find a reason to push the funeral back. You also know there are other matters to attend to that don't give you the luxury of sitting in your grief.

But, oh wouldn’t that be nice?

You don’t want to ignore what happened, no, that’s not what you want. You just want to take a moment to process what happened, and who did it, and tell yourself that you will no longer see your little brother Lucerys.

But no, war forces you to face reality and deal with your grief harshly on the same night you arrived from Winterfell, and at the same spot where your baby sister's funeral pyre was lit.

This time the crowd is smaller though, more intimate. Daemon isn’t even here, which isn’t surprising, but it is also disappointing that he can’t be at his wife’s side as she deals with the death of her son, and lights yet another funeral pyre. And what grows your hatred for him even more is that he can’t seem to be bothered to be a father to his daughter who just lost her betrothed. It’s a good thing Baela is at her side.

It’s also good that you can be with your family this time, dealing with your father's grief alone was devastating. There was no one besides your handmaiden Vanessa to hold your hand and embrace you when you wept. Comforting letters could never measure up to the comfort of your mother's arms or that of your siblings and your grandparents.

Now though, you stand amongst them around the fire that will burn away the only pieces you have of Lucerys, which are his things. There's not even bones to turn to ash, nothing was found of him but his cloak, and a part of his dragon's wing.

Thus Jacaerys steps up first and throws in a soft red blanket along with a piece of his clothes. Besides a few tears rolling down his face, he holds strong now, unlike before when he was in the privacy of just you and your mother, which is assuring. He definitely seems to comfort Joffrey, who throws a wooden horse in the fire, leaving you to step up next.

Yet when you step up and lift a small wooden ship you sob for the brother you’ll never be able to see grow into a man. You’ll never be able to see him marry, or see him command his fleets. You’ll never be able to watch him build a family of his own, nor will you be able to dance another song with him, he’ll be gone forever.

You throw away all those possibilities you’ll never get to see in the fire, and watch the flames eat away at the small wooden ship, and turn to ash everything you couldn’t watch your brother do.

Thick smoke rises, it infiltrates through your nose and stings your throat and eyes while also helping you realize something through the stinging pain, that being your hate for Aemond, your husband, and best friend. You were clouded with confusion before, you couldn’t let go, but you see it clearly now in the thick smoke, you hate him.

And it’s because of your realization that you don’t realize your mother is next to you until you catch her throwing in a piece of Lucery’s clothes with agony contorting her face and clouding her eyes. She lingers by the fire for a moment and you watch her shoulders shake before she steps back. You fall by her side and glance down at her empty hand before you reach over to grab it and once again be the comfort she needs in her moment of pain.

A need to go to Rhaena’s side does grow. You feel called to her side to comfort her, but once the fire starts to lose its power, and all the wooden logs turn black, you step away from your brother and mother's side, but come to a stop right away as you feel guilt again. Your mother might’ve speechlessly assured you, but Rhaena’s anger and grief is different, what if she does blame you for what Aemond did?

If you weren’t away you probably could’ve stopped Aemond, but you weren’t with him. What if she blames you for Aemond taking her betrothed?

You don’t want to be the source of more pain for your cousin, so out of fear and guilt, you don’t approach her. You avoid her and instead, let your grandfather give his condolences before embracing your grandmother.

“I heard the Queen made you her hand,” you interject and pull back to face her with a proud smile. “Congratulations, grandmother, I could think of no one more capable than you.”

Your grandmother caresses your face and offers you a sweet and thankful smile. “Thank you, my Sweet. How are you doing?” She asks with a concerned gaze.

You sigh. “I’m dealing with all my emotions, but I’m relieved that I at least don’t have to go through my grief alone this time,” you share, earning a faint smile.

“I was wondering…” you roll out hesitantly whilst you hook your arm around his to head back inside together. “…does anyone accompany you on your patrols?”

Without needing to hear the rest of what you wanted to ask, she figures out the direction you're taking this conversation.

“No,” your grandmother assures you.

“Oh, well I was wondering,” you finally get to your question. “If I could accompany you? The sea is large, together we could cover more ground. Besides,” you sweet talk her to persuade her. “Astraea is fast, and she’s grown large from her time at Winterfell. She’s good at sea. She likes to dive with me on her. And I am a good archer on Dragonback. We could help you.”

Your grandmother scoffs and flashes you a smile. “Well as much as I would like your help, we would have to ask the Queen first. Bring it up with her and if she accepts I would love to share patrol with you, it would relieve me of some work.”

You smile excitedly and nod eagerly. “Good, I’m glad. I’ll ask her at the next council meeting.”

Your grandmother offers you an encouraging smile and helps you feel some joy in the dark storm that casts over you.

Of course, no one or nothing brings you more joy than your little one, your beloved Aerion. When you see him fast asleep in his cradle your dim world lights up and you muster a happy grin.

As much as you want him to wake so he knows you’ve returned to him, you let him be and just crouch by the cradle to admire him as he sleeps.

You admire his cute round cheeks, his tiny little hands balled up to fists over his head, his thin eyelashes he got from his father, and those pink thin lips he also got from

Aemond. But most importantly you watch his chest carefully to make sure he’s breathing.

You could watch him sleep for hours on end and never tire. Especially because sometimes, just like now, you catch him smiling in his sleep and you just can’t help but swoon.

You always wondered what it is they dream about, fairytales mayhaps? Food? Their parents?

Does he dream about his father now that they’re apart? A father who loves him, and takes pride in his son? A father that you hate and…cheated on…

He killed your little brother, and you lay with Cregan because you wanted to, because you missed him, and you were upset and selfish, but now that you’re looking at your son sleeping away a different pang of guilt punctures your heart.

A guilt you shouldn’t feel, Aerion is young, he won't remember this conflict, but he will feel shame if he ever finds out you cheated on his father.

Yes, his father hurt you first, Aemond betrayed you first. He hurt you in one the worst ways possible! But…now…

Now you’re looking at Aerion and you think of how this could also hurt him. He’s young, a baby turning five months old soon, he won’t remember his life as an infant, but your secret won’t be forgotten, especially if in the future Cregan and you aren’t together.

It would hurt him so much if he ever found out. That’s what makes you cry with guilt. Not regret, you don’t regret your night with Cregan, he made you happy, but you do feel guilt and shame.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

Does Aemond’s crime justify what you did?

You can’t help but think of that, you can’t help but think of the hate you harbor, but you also can’t stop thinking about him. About the way his family doesn’t show him the affection you do. He protects them and takes care of them, but they will never return it in the same amount.

He’s probably lonely, and brooding. He’s probably silently just lurking in his brother's council, and breaking his fasts alone.

You always tried breaking fast and eating dinners together. He always smiled when he saw the way you were dressed, especially when you wore purple. He always gave you a kiss before you drifted apart for the day, and when you saw each other he kissed you with need as if you had gone years without seeing each other.

When night came, or when you found yourselves just in a calm moment, he let his guard down and let himself be vulnerable. You loved those moments the most because it felt as if only he and you existed in this world.

Actually, he treated you like you were the only person he has ever loved. You came first all the time, even before your son. Which is selfish, but you never minded because who could treat you the same?

Cregan’s people come first, the North comes first no matter what he says. That’s why he’s not marching over here to fight himself because other priorities come first, but with Aemond, he may have his goals and his pride, but you were never held lesser than something. His anger got in the way. It’s blinding but you understand why.

You understood at least…because the truth is you can’t defend him now…

He deserves his solitude. You hate him for taking Lucerys away. That much is true and you put that over everything.

“Princess,” Vanessa’s sweet voice cuts through the blowing breeze of the sea, making you pick your eyes off your son to look into the distance.

“Vanessa,” you entertain your handmaiden with what you know she’s leading up to.

“I was wondering,” she parts her lips, but before she can finish her thought the sound of your name coming from someone else’s lips interrupts the conversation. You look back and smile faintly when you see your grandfather Corlys.

“Grandfather,” you greet sweetly as you stand up to watch him approach you at shore.

“I’m surprised to see you out here so early,” he mentions, making you scoff softly and look down at Aerion watching your grandfather carefully.

“When I saw Aerion he was sleeping, so I wanted to make up for it and spend as much time as I can before I’m called away,” you tell him and study him, noticing he’s standing up a lot straighter than before, and still using a very nice wooden cane. “I wanted to apologize for not going to visit you when you were abed. I’m more than glad to see you up now and attending to your fleet.” You smile brightly and watch him get close to watch Aerion in your arms.

“It's quite all right,” he assures you and meets your gaze. “You are a dragon rider, and the Queen's daughter, there’s a lot to do. I'm happy to see you safely returned, I know Aerion has missed you.”

You glance at your son, and as if he knew you were admiring him he glances at you and smiles before laying his head on your shoulder.

“Rhaenys and I would take him on strolls when the day gave us time,” your grandfather catches you by surprise. “The poor lad would be cooped all day with your mother gone.”

Considering Aerion the son of Aemond, you didn’t think your grandparents, especially your grandfather would much care for your son, but hearing his report really brings a warmth to your heart.

“I noticed that young Aerion quite enjoys being by the water,” your grandfather adds, making you grin and nod.

“Yes, he loves it when the waves roll over his feet,” you share giddily and caress your son's head as you return your gaze to your grandfather. “And he gets lulled to sleep by the sound of crashing waves.”

“He’ll be a fine sailor in no time.”

You hum happily at your grandfather's comment and then watch him glance out at the never-ending sea before he sighs softly, and then looks back at you with a faint smile that lets you catch a look in his eye that makes you think he’s up to something.

“Why don’t you and Aerion accompany me to Driftmark? It’s still early, and you can come back by dragonback before you’re needed,” he suggests.

You have been meaning to keep your mind off all the racing thoughts that kept you up at night, and well, you are extremely curious. It’s not common for him to invite you to accompany him anywhere. That’s what your grandmother does.

“Vanessa,” you address your handmaiden, and give your grandfather an answer. “Return inside, if anyone asks for me tell them where I am and that I will return soon.”

Your handmaiden offers you a comprehensive nod and goes off to do as you asked, letting you walk with your grandfather toward his boat under the morning sky pampered with fluffy white clouds that make you feel a smidge of joy as certain memories infiltrate your mind.

“On nice days like these my father would take me sailing,” you muse with your grandfather. “I’m pretty sure the septa giving me lessons would despise when he would pull me from my lessons since I was a princess and had no business doing boy stuff, but,” you grin softly. “He was the prince consort, he did as he pleased and my mother never minded. Besides, I encouraged him,” you pause and feel your eyes begin to sting without much warning.

“He taught me a lot of ships…I miss him,” you finish in a whisper.

Your grandfather lets out a deep sigh and you see him nod along with you from the corner of your eye.

“Did he teach you how to read maps?” Your grandfather wonders.

You nod. “Yes, and star charts. I could learn more about those, but I could follow the stars North and to King’s Landing with no map. He…never tried to leave anything out, he was always so excited.”

Your grandfather hums and you glance over at him to address something else on your chest. “I’m glad you decided to side your fleet and Driftmark with my mother.”

His dark eyes meet yours and he quirks a brow. “Why would I side with Aegon?”

Well besides him being a man, there’s also the fact that it’s highly theorized Daemon killed his son. You believe and hate him for it, but no matter how much you want to share that belief, you bite your tongue and shrug as if it was just a concerned-filled thought.

Your grandfather understands your speechless response and holds your gaze as he gives his vague response. “I had many reasons to side with your mother.”

You offer him a simple proud smile and reach his boat in a peaceful silence only filled by the crashing waves and the cawing of seabirds. You had hoped to feel a hint of those exciting and tender feelings you oftentimes felt with your father when you were out at sea, but even if you walk with his father, those feelings you ache to reconnect to aren’t anywhere close, reminding you that you’ll never be with your father ever again, or have a bond with any father-figure.

Albeit your grandfather does let you sail the boat to Driftmark, but as excited you do feel to show off your skills and once again maneuver a boat, you still feel empty within.

“My dragon loves the sea,” you begin to say with the intention of persuading him to use your aid at sea whilst you keep an eye on the distant waters. “And I have learned how to use a bow and arrow on dragonback, perhaps I could be the dragon rider to protect your fleet when battle hits our shores, or we attack theirs,” you finish and peer back at him with a sly grin, unknowingly reminding him of his son when he was your age and eager to prove his worth. You even wore the same sly smile Laenor wore when he was proving himself a fine sailor and dragonrider.

“That…” he starts off quietly but then clears his throat and sounds as mighty as ever. “That would honor me.”

You offer him a happy smile over your shoulder and then let your gaze fall on Aerion strapped on your chest, noticing him watching the waves with his eyes wide and full of wonder.

However, the wonder slowly gets lost as he starts to get lulled to sleep. He tries to fight the sleep to keep watching the moving waves, but he’s outmatched and loses himself to sleep not long before you arrive at Driftmark’s shore.

Unlike Dragonstone, Driftmark is more lively with people; both townspeople and soldiers from the fleets as well as those who work on your grandfather's massive ship. Some seem worried that something could happen at any given moment, while others seem to be happy just mindlessly living.

You begin to wonder about that happiness, you don’t envy their joy, a part of you resents all these people being so happy and living their lives unaffected by the death of Driftmark’s Heir. You wonder why it is they don’t feel what you’re plagued with, you want them to feel your sorrow.

But then you do realize that you’re just letting your pain cloud your judgment.

“Besides having you accompany me,” your grandfather interjects, pulling your attention away from the large ship. “I wanted to share something I have been thinking of as of late.”

You clasp your hands together and out of instinct reach out to fiddle with the ring Aemond gave you, but you’re then surprised when you feel that your ringer finger is bare.

You spare a glance at your finger and drift your gaze to the ground, but you’re then reminded of the fact that you left your ring behind in your borrowed quarters at Castle Black.

You probably won’t ever see it again…

“…I was hoping that when Aerion is older he could be my ward,” your grandfather catches your attention and makes you furrow your eyebrows and look at him with disbelief, and slightly bothered.

“Of course,” he continues, “he won’t have to join me until he’s much older, but he is Laenor’s grandson, I want him to know the sea, and I want to teach him about ships and how to command fleets like I taught your father.”

You glance at your sleeping son and cradle the back of his head as if protecting him from being parted from you.

“He’s the son of a second son, he won’t inherit a crown or a castle from his father, but he could inherit…my title.”

You snap your eyes over to him and come to a slow stop as you’re overcome with surprise. You want to be filled with pride and joy, but there’s an obstacle that stops you. “But,” you mutter your thought out loud. “He is Aemond’s son. A man who opposes us. A man who killed your heir.”

Your grandfather turns away from his ship and faces you, and doesn’t fail to nod in agreement. “Aye, he is the son of Prince Aemond, but Aerion has salt-littered blood. He is the grandson of Laenor Velaryon, my son.”

Aerion is also your son, and you are also your father's firstborn, and only biological child, but he doesn’t seem to ever mention that! What are you, a painted portrait?

You would’ve loved to inherit Driftmark and his title of Lord of the Tides, but no!

You would ask about Rhaena getting that chance before Aerion since she is the daughter of his only daughter, but you don’t see that having a good answer, so you don’t even waste your breath.

“What of Joffrey?” You bring up. “He should be your heir.”

Your grandfather sighs and nods stiffly but quickly counters you. “Perhaps, but I want it to be Aerion. The grandson of my son.”

It’s not hard to realize the actual truth behind his response; Joffrey is the bastard son of your father. With Lucerys gone, he can actually name an actual Velaryon his heir. It doesn’t seem fair, your father loved your brothers whether they were his or not, but who are you to deny Aerion of a fruitful future?

He comes first now, and it doesn’t seem like your grandfather is actually asking your permission or for your actual thoughts, his mind seems mind up, so with a deep breath and a hesitant smile you accept what he brings up. “That…would make me happy. And I’m sure it would’ve made my father happy.”

Your grandfather offers you a smile and surprises you by patting your shoulder as an endearing gesture that brings a…silence where you smile faintly out of pride, but you can’t help but think what next. You’ve never actually spent so much time with your grandfather, and if you do your grandmother has always been with you.

“Why don’t you show your knowledge on the ship,” your grandfather luckily drifts the attention over.

However, just as you approach the plank resting on the dock, he stops you by grabbing your shoulder and interjecting loudly. “Alyn!”

You follow his gaze and blink repeatedly in surprise when you see the same Addam of Hull who fought in your engagement tourney.

When the man’s eyes fall on you beside your grandfather his lips part in surprise, but when he reaches you he closes his mouth and bows his head. “Princess,” he greets you properly right away.

“Ser,” you greet him quite excitedly.

“Good,” your grandfather cuts in and steps back. “You remember each other.”

You drift your gaze to your grandfather and express your confusion with knitted eyebrows that he helps ease with a quick response. “I sent him to check on you for me when I was fighting in the Step Stones.”

Instead of going to you himself?

Whatever.

“Really?” You ask with more surprise. “Well thank you, he was a very excellent jouster who brought Driftmark and me great pride.”

Alyn offers you a stiff smile and bows his head as a thank you.

“Good, I’m glad to hear he can’t show his skill,” your grandfather fills the man’s silence. “Why don’t I let you get reacquainted.”

Without room to argue he walks away and leaves you alone with Ser Alyn—or is it just Alyn since it was your grandfather who sent him?

“Seeing you again makes this world feel small. I never thought our paths would cross again,” you fill the silence to avoid awkward silences.

“In truth neither did I,” he admits. “But it is an honor.”

You offer him a smile and notice how much more muscular he is now compared to before. He’s also a lot more serious too.

“Who—”

“Alyn!”

You both turn your attention to the caller, and you see a tall and thin man with long dreadlocks approaching with a bright and charming grin that immediately works to intrigue you.

Albeit when he notices your unique white hair, your long and elegant red gown finer than any material he’s touched; accompanied with shiny gold jewelry on your hands and neck, he realizes that you are no ordinary woman. The man’s grin slowly disappears at the realization and he slows down towards Alyn. Once he’s finally nearby he straightens up and doesn’t fail to bow when he joins you and Alyn.

“My Princess,” the mystery man greets you with a nervous but charming smile that actually serves to completely get rid of any tension or awkward atmosphere he could’ve brought.

“Princess,” Alyn interjects and looks at the man in blue beside him. “This is my brother Addam. Addam, this is the Princess, granddaughter of Lord Corlys Velaryon.”

You and Addam meet each other's gaze and that snobby princess Addam already imagined you’d be upon laying eyes on you completely falls apart when you offer him a bright smile in return. You perhaps are one of the most majestic beauties he’s ever laid his eyes on, he can’t help but think. Even from afar you were luminous and almost like an illusion, but from up close he could see your beauty was no illusion, he could see a sadness in your eyes, but so much more that intrigued him.

You give him your name and Addam’s eyes proceed to fall on the sleeping infant strapped on your chest. “Who is this?”

You cradle your baby's head and introduce him to Addam and Alyn. “This is my son, Aerion Targaryen.”

“Hm, not one to care about first impressions I see,” Addam throws out boldly, making his brother shoot him a warning glare. You, however, laugh genuinely in return, which is something that surprises even you. You didn’t think you could ever laugh the way you just did again.

“He takes after his father,” you mirror his humor.

“Well, we’ll let this lad get away with it this time.”

You scoff and nod. “I’ll make sure he’s more prepared next time,” you remark lightheartedly.

He hums and glances over at his brother. “Could I ask how you met?”

“At a tourney,” you answer for Alyn. “Last year. Apparently, he was sent by my grandfather.”

“Tourney?” Addam asks as if it’s the first time hearing of it. “Aren’t you supposed to be a knight?”

“Actually I was trying to get to that too,” you share and both wait for a response from the serious man.

“Well I was surprised to see what money could buy,” he remarks. “I was deceitful when I entered. I am no knight.”

You hum and ease his growing worry right away by assuring him. “Well, I would say you were actually quite entertaining and impressive. You fought well and won.”

Addam pats his brother's back and whispers, “I’m proud of you.”

You watch Addam offer his brother a very faint smile and you can’t help but remember the grief you had pushed aside as you remember the brother you lost.

“I was hoping to have some early brunch with my brother,” Addam now directs at you. “But it seems insignificant now that you have graced us with your presence.”

You can't help but smile with amusement and feel slightly flattered. Addam is surely more outgoing than his brother in a way that doesn’t fail to catch your interest and actually helps bring attention to his fierce spirit that you can’t help but feel the need to get to know.

Actually meeting him makes you feel like you found something you had been in search of your whole life.

A/N- romantic or platonic? (For those who have read moonlight before already know but please don’t spoil it for the rest heheh :)

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638

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the-fiction-witch · 3 months ago

Text

I Like Him P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Oscar Tully Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - (OC) Jaerra Targaryen [Daughter of Daemon Targaryen & Rhea Royce] Rating - 15 Word Count - 1119

Jaerra followed her father and Lord Oscar out into the fallen godswood of Harenhall where the riverloads had gathered below a cold grey sky. She sat on a large piece of stone that littered the courtyard, as Daemon paced Oscar pacing around him going to toe to toe with Daemon.

"In the deepest darkness comes the dawn... a new lord... a new beginning," Daemon explained, "Let us put all the old unpleasantness behind this,"

Tension bubbled as lords looked between each other,

Oscar spoke up, "Be Welcome my lords, and you have my thanks for answering my summons," he explained his voice raising as he spoke finding his firm voice large enough to address the crowd of lords, "I know I am not the man my grandser was... but I hope to begin well and go on from there."

"Well said." Daemon added, "One thing is clear, the river men honour the old ways and abide by tradition, here then is tradition Grover Tully is dead, Lord Oscar raised up in his place, and you have been summoned here to swear anew your fealty to him. And as his bannermen answer his call!"

"And what would that call be?" a River lord asked,

"In his wisdom, he has pledged his house and yours to me," Daemon answered before Lord Oscar could speak.

"Lord Osacar, for generations we have been guided by the judgement of your forebears, why now should we follow a boy younger then my own sons? When you will align with one... who will desecrate the innocent to reach his aims." Lord Piper asked,

"I did only what was necessary! My lord." Willem Blackwood spoke up, "And I now deliver to you the traitor Amos Bracken and his son."

"No more a traitor to his lands than you Willem Blackwood!"

"I take to heart your words, lord Piper." Oscar broke up the fight before it began, "And I agree, I am young... and I have no love for Daemon Targaryen," Oscar glared at Daemon, briefly his eyes met Jaerra and he went to speak but he continued on, "he has dishonoured himself and the crown with his... comportment here. Nevertheless having so little experience to guide me... my best course is to defer to the oath my grandsire sword to King Viserys when he named Rhaynera Targaryen his heir, I see no reason to cast aside loyalty... no matter how loathsome I... may find her representative the prince."

"King." Daemon glared,

"Consort," Jaerra added,

"Mind your young boy." Daemon glared at Oscar ignoring Jaerra's comment,

"Will you have our army or not?" Oscar asked making his way to Daemon,

Daemon didn't answer,

"I am in the end a Riverman," Oscar said as he walked away, "And the word of my house stands, even if ... some people are unworthy of it."

"Your lord Oscar is bold. But he is... perhaps not wrong, I may have been a touch... enthusiastic in pursuing my aims." Daemon explained as he paced once more. "But don't allow my failings, to keep you from supporting... an upright...man."

"My lord Oscar we honor the old ways, as Prince Daemon says, and the old ways call for justice to be done." The lady of a house spoke up,

"Yes. Justice has been done." Willem protested, "They who bent the knee to the usurper have been brought to heal! And now we unite... before our liege lord and our king consort," Willem pulled his sword and bent the knee offering his blade,

Oscar moved closer and held his hands to the man's offer, "I accept you as my vassal Lord Blackwood... but" he moved away, "I am lord paramount of all river houses, and there is... only one punishment for the crimes you visited upon your neighbours,"

"I did only as his grace, the king! Commanded of me."

"True... but he laid bare his base desires. But you did not have to pursue such savagery," Oscar explained, "You did it. Because you wanted to."

"Our young lord speaks truly," Lord Piper added,

"Seize him," Oscar commanded,

And the Harrenhall men came and took Willem Blackwood by the arms,

"You can't fucking do this... your grace commands them. I have only served you!"

"If his grace wishes to show contrition for his acts and to prove himself deserving of our banners, he must now rectify his grievous error." Oscar explained, "Denounce your crimes," he tells Willem, "And dispense justice."

Willen argued and tried to fight his way out,

"Oh dear..." Lord Strong muttered,

Daemon took a moment to think, and Jaerra watched him closely as he began to move and draw his sword,

"You're grace I've been faithful!" Willem begged,

But with a fast and simple swing, Willem's head was removed from his body, Daemon made his way inside with Lord Strong following, and the river lords slowly left to make their arrangements. But Oscar loomed longer.

Jaerra pushed herself off the rock and made her way over to him, "You handled them..."

"Have I just sent my lords to die?" He asked,

"...Yes," she nodded, "But that's war."

"True," He sighed, "I should have done it..."

"Done it?"

"Given out the sentence."

"Daemon is the one who doomed him long before you did,"

"...I- I admit, I have... not..."

"Look." Jaerra told him, "Long and hard, he is not the first man put to the sword in this war, and he shall far from be the last. Grow used to it now."

"You speak as if you have been to war a thousand times, we have been lucky to be born with only peace."

"Daemon is my father," She reminds,

"That is enough of an answer," He chuckled, "Forgive me, Princess-"

Jaerra scoffed, "Even calling me lady is a formality. It is not needed My Lord Tully." She nodded before she made her way towards the doors,

"Jaerra!"

She turned on her heels, "Yes Oscar?"

"... I find your father loathsome. Utterly so." He explained,

"As many do," she chuckled,

"But... truly, that does not extend to you." He said, "Not even slightly"

Jaerra smiled, "Thank you, and know that I to have no such feelings for you, I think we somewhat think the same of my father."

"I... I must ask, are you remaining here?"

"I am," she nodded, "I shall remain until my queen demands me elsewhere,"

"I- I hope she doesn't demand you, too soon."

"Neither do I," Jaerra agreed, "You shall remain?"

"Yes. With my men." He nodded, "I will set up tent with my men,"

"A tent?" she chuckled, "Should the lord not be in the castle?"

"I thought it may be mess damp in the tent." Oscar joked,

"You may be right," Jaerra laughed, "But not proper for a Liege lord to tent with his men. I will see what can be found for you Oscar."

"Thank you Jaerra," he nodded,

She smiled and headed inside the castle.

Tags - @llynx7

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year ago

Note

can i request a tav x astarion where tav is mute? i wonder how they would be communicating

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I really struggled with this request, but I decided to try again on a whim and whoooo boy it's a doozy. I also did not make Tav mute, but I played with a Paladin oath I have had on my mind for a looong time so they are effectively mute

Warnings: fear of death, blood, mentions of death/dead bodies, religion, anxiety, fear, being trapped, crying, swearing, angst, hurt/little comfort, possibly OOC

Word Count: 3,624

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You huff in annoyance for the fifth- no, sixth, time. Perhaps more. The vendor stares at you as though you’re insane, even though you couldn’t possibly be clearer! You exaggerate further, pointing at the potion, yourself, and your coin purse. If he would just mark how much the damn thing cost, you wouldn’t have to keep going through this!

Astarion sighs sharply. “They want to buy the potion,” he bemoans. “Now, please, tell them the price so we can move on.”

The vendor starts with wide eyes and realization on his face. He flushes from his cheeks, down his neck, and to the tips of his ears as he stutters out the price. You shove the money into his chest and grab what you’ve paid for, before stomping off. And if Astarion slipped an extra something in his pocket while the vendor was dying of his stupidity, who would really care?

He caught up in a few long strides. “We must find a better way for you to communicate, darling. I can’t keep translating for you.”

You made a few sharp gestures.

“I don’t see the big deal in carrying a paper and pencil around,” he answered with a scoff. “Or, you know, you could just speak. I know you can.”

You glared at him. That, he didn’t need a translator for.

This had been an ongoing argument from the very moment you ran into each other on the beach. When he had you pinned to the ground and you didn’t speak, he originally thought you were just being stubborn. When he finally let you go, you’d explained to him (in writing) that you’d made an oath of silence, and that you had nothing to do with the Illithid kidnappings.

Fortunately, you discovered early on that some hand signs were shared with the Theive’s Cant, which he understood quite well. When Gale and Wyll came along, one who’d learned some sign through books and the other who learned by helping people as the Blade of Frontiers, Astarion was relieved he wouldn’t have to translate for you. Except, you continued to drag him along to act as the middle man anyway.

His solution, proposed frequently both seriously and in jest, was to break your oath. An oath of silence was a ridiculous thing to promise anyway, especially now that you needed to communicate so frequently, but any time the suggestion was posed, you’d just level him with a hard stare.

“You know I can’t do that,” you signed, annoyed.

He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, Paladins. So dedicated to the chains that bind them.”

“To break my oath would be to lose my powers. Do you want me to keep reviving your ass during battle or not?”

He sneered. “You couldn’t make an oath of vengeance or something? It would certainly be a lot easier to follow through on.”

You rolled your eyes and walked faster. You hated arguing about your oath. Wyll and Gale wouldn’t behoove you for it - so why did you bring him along, he wonders.

Astarion heaved, pressing against a stitch in his side that tightened with each breath. The fight was brutal. Everyone was bloody and exhausted. Shadowheart turned from the dead beast before them to help Wyll who lay prone on the ground. Karlach pulled her mighty axe from its head with a squelch and a crunch, cheering at the victory.

He chuckled breathlessly at her antics. Almost stumbling, he turned in a circle, eyes scanning the battlefield. The beast’s cronies lay still, scattered everywhere. Blood overwhelmed his senses. How did that saying go? Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink.

He frowned. He looked around again. “Where’s Tav?”

Karlach’s whoops quieted immediately. She looked around as well. “They didn’t get crushed under this,” she kicked the creature in the eye, “did they?”

He shook his head. “They weren’t close enough…” He growled, frustrated, and turned to the magic-users. “Did you see where Tav went?”

Shadowheart supported Wyll as he sat up, groaning. They both shook their heads. “Last I saw them, they were over there,” the warlock croaked, nodding over to the side. “But I don’t know how long I’ve been down for.”

Astarion winced as he jogged over to where he said, stepping over and on top of dead bodies. He took another step. His foot did not collide with floor nor flesh. His heart lurched as the world fell out from under him. A hand grabbed the neck his armor and pulled him back, falling on his ass onto solid ground.

“Careful, Fangs!” Karlach chastised worriedly. She let him go, pulling them both to their feet and brushing him off. “You alright?”

His mind was still reeling. He nodded in a daze. All he could do was stare at the nearly-invisible chasm he’d almost fallen down into… And then his mind caught up.

He raced forward again, dopping to his knees right before the tear in the earth, and leaned over it. Even his darkvision couldn’t help him see what was below; it was so dark, like all light that fell into it was swallowed up. A heavy weight settled in his chest.

“Tav?!” he shouted down into the darkness. His voice echoed. He had no idea how deep it went.

The realization set in for Karlach as well. “Oh fuck…”

“Tav, are you down there?!” He waited a moment, but he was met with only silence.

Shadowheart and Wyll rushed over. They peered into the deep with concern. Astarion shifted so he sat on the ground, legs dangling over the edge. He remembered the feeling of falling. Fortunately, he couldn’t see how deep it was, so at least vertigo did not make it seem deeper; the shadow was doing a perfect job of that on its own.

Wyll grabbed his shoulder before he could slide forward. “Astarion, we have no idea how deep it goes, or what’s down there! You could be impaled on a spike before you ever make it to the bottom. We don’t know if they’re even alive!”

“And if they are?” he growled. “They could be trapped down there with no way of telling us.”

“And you’ll be trapped down there if you go after them!”

He couldn’t argue with anything logical. So what if he got stuck down there? He needed to know you were okay. His blunt nails dig into the stone edge, knocking loose flecks of rock and sediment. How could he just leave you down there?

Shadowheart looked around at the bodies. “We could make some rope. Lower it down, see if they grab on.”

He snorted mirthlessly, sneering at the cleric. “And if they’re too injured to?”

She glared back at him. “I don’t see you proposing any better ideas.”

Karlach and Wyll shared a look. It seems they’d have to be the level-headed ones here… “We can strip the bodies. Tie their clothes together until it’s long enough.” To hopefully reach the bottom, was left unsaid.

Karlach and Shadowheart got to work immediately, working to remove the clothes of their fallen enemies, scrunching their noses in disgust all the while. Wyll squeezed Astarion’s shoulder and joined them, trying to decide what clothes were in good enough condition to hold weight. Astarion stared into the pit for a while longer.

Your head spun. Everything ached. Each breath was like fire in your lungs. You bit your lip to silence your whimpers, biting down so hard you could taste iron in your mouth.

As the pain ebbs to a manageable level, you try to figure out where you were. It was dark. You couldn’t make out your hand right in front of your face. You couldn’t even be sure your eyes were open. You only knew they were when you looked up and saw light coming from far above you. It was dim and flickering - the flames of the braziers that lined the battlefield.

You blinked into the darkness, willing your eyes to adjust. Cautiously, you reached out your hands and felt around. The ground beneath you was covered in fine gravel, almost like sand. The finer sediment stuck to your hands when you pulled away. There was a wall behind you, possibly made from slate. It would be impossible to climb. With a muffled groan, you’re able to reach your foot out and touch the opposite wall. The effort leaves you panting.

You lay still on the floor for a minute. Clearly, you fell from quite high up. How far was still a mystery, but the fact was you did fall. When you’ve caught your breath, you feel for any injuries. Your armor restricts you, but it seems to have protected you for the most part. You’ll be bruised as hell, but you can’t find any open wounds. At least you were fortunate there.

You look up again. You can’t hear anything coming from above, but you’re unsure if it’s from the depth of the chasm or because the battle is over. You hope they are able to win the fight without you. All your companions are strong in their own right, you know they can pull through this.

You squint at the opening above. You think you see something moving at the top, but it’s merely a speck. Using the wall and gathering your waning strength, you push yourself to your feet. You heave as you lean against the slate. The silhouette is still too far away to make out.

T..av….

A distant cry, distorted heavily by the chasm. It takes a moment for you to recognize it as your name. Your heart leaps in your chest.

… av….. Ar… d..wn… the..re…

You can’t tell who’s calling down to you, but you take faith in the knowledge it must be one of your companions. The beasts wouldn’t know your name. Now you just have to signal them somehow…

You feel around your body for your sword, but the sheath is empty. It must have fallen elsewhere, perhaps only feet away, but you can’t see worth a damn. You try instead to cast a ball of light. It should be easy - it’s a spell you’ve cast a hundred times before. But as you strain to conjure even a spark, you become lightheaded. Your knees buckle, collapsing you back to the gritty floor. You try again, but you can feel your energy being sapped away. Your hand falls weakly to the ground.

You rest your head back against the wall and think. You can’t use your sword to hit the rock and make a sound, or defend yourself if something lurks within the darkness. You can’t cast a light, nor any other spell, lest you fall completely unconscious and make your chances worse. The more options you run out of, the more desperate you become. You try reaching out to their tadpoles, but they must be too far away.

You’re stuck.

A sob chokes you as it forces its way up your throat. Even that is muffled by you, by pure habit at this point. You’ve held your oath for years; you’ve learned how to stay silent even under the worst situations. Now it’s come to bite you in the ass.

You look up at the dim light, blurred through tears. They burn as they just keep coming. Your lip quivers as you quietly gasp for air. You’re going to die down here.

Your last option, you’ve already dismissed before it fully forms. You could break your oath, call up to them, cry out for help with the last of your strength. But to do that would leave you even more helpless than before. To speak was to lose your powers. Your god would rip them away in a heartbeat, until you plead for forgiveness; pray for hours and hours to swear your allegiance and dedication once more.

A slave to the chains that bind you.

But what choice do you have?

You try to catch your breath, slow the hiccups and sobs down until you can fill your lungs with air. You open your mouth, try to form the words, but it comes out as a weak sound, almost a poor facsimile of a donkey’s bray. You haven’t spoken for years, to do so now was an astronomical feat. You feel the burn of your god’s eyes as they watch you actively work to break your oath.

You try to speak again. You form an h sound, but it’s so quiet, it’s hardly enough to be considered speaking. You need to shout. You need to let your friends know you are alive down here. Anxiety grips your heart as you imagine being left down here alone, left to starve to death, or worse.

You swallow. You have to do this. You can do this.

“H..e..lp,” you croak out, a mere whisper. It’s raspy and breathy, but it’s a word. You feel your power being sapped away. You nearly sob again. Your god would abandon you down here. An unfeeling master who only craves loyalty. Astarion was right.

You take another deep breath and try harder. “H-elp..!” It’s still a strained rasp, but you hear it begin to echo off the walls. Louder. It needs to be louder. You cup your hands around your mouth. “Help!” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the burning in your throat. “HELP!”

Astarion’s hands are raw from tying knots. Karlach will bring him big piles at a time, plopping them down beside him, and he’d add them all onto the already-quite-long rope. It was perhaps 30 feet long by now, but he wasn’t confident it would reach.

Wyll sighed, exhausted. “We’re almost out of clothes, my friend.”

Astarion doesn’t look up, barely paying attention to the warlock enough to tell him to keep working. Calluses on his hands open and turn into blisters. He winces with each knot he pulls tight. But he won’t stop. How can he?

Shadowheart sighs as she pulls the pants off another corpse. She’s seen far more anatomy in one hour than she ever wished to again. Karlach sits down by the pile and pulls the other end of the rope into her lap. She begins working to tie more on.

They work silently, but rather efficiently. In another minute, the rope has grown considerably longer. Blood begins to stain Astarion’s end.

“Fangs, maybe you should take a break.” He shakes his head, frowning as he grabs a robe off the pile. Karlach is about to insist, get Wyll or Shadowheart to take over, when a sound comes from the pit. Astarion drops everything and scrambles over as fast as he can.

He tilts his head, facing his ear down into the depths. And he listens…

H..E..LP!

He immediately shouts down into the hole. “We’re going to get you out!” He rushes back to his feet and to the rope. The others drop their half-naked corpses, and Karlach finishes tying one last knot. They help Astarion drag it over to the pit, all lining up to hold onto the end, though, to be honest, Karlach will be doing most of the heavy lifting. He guides the end over the edge, and hurriedly lowers it down. He wants to throw it in, but he’d rather not throw somebody else over the edge with the sudden weight.

He’s knelt right on the edge, wide eyes staring, searching into the dark. He has no idea how close they are to you, or even if it’s long enough. He hopes your god is merciful enough to play with fate.

“Find the rope!” He shouts down. He hopes his voice is reaching you. “We’ll lift you up!”

It’s too quiet for too long. If his heart still beat, it would be racing faster than a rabbit’s on the run. Dread builds up, heavy and unpleasant, in his chest instead. Did you pass out? Was the rope long enough? Would he have to slide down and carry you back up? What was taking you so damn long?!

He’s a second away from removing his armor to climb down when the rope shifts, being tugged by something down in the darkness. He can only hope it’s you. He scrambles to his feet and gets in front of Karlach, grabs hold of the rope with bloody fingers, and begins pulling you from the pit.

Somehow they manage to work as a unit. He’s scrambling to pull you out as fast as possible, but Karlach manages to get him to slow down. If they could do long pulls, they could drag you out faster with less work. He worries his lip between his teeth. Each knot that slips over the edge adds to his anxiety. He’s waiting for the moment it reaches the end and nothing is there. He can only take solace in the fact he can feel your weight holding on. Gods, he thinks desperately, just keep holding on.

After an eternity of pulling, a hand reaches over the ledge. Karlach makes up for his absence when he lets go and falls to his knees at the edge. He reaches in and wraps his hands under your arms, heaving you up and, finally, back on solid ground. He pulls you solidly into his arms, sliding back away from the edge. He’s sick and tired of chasms.

You’re no longer wearing your armor, and your weapons belt is gone, too. Fine, black dirt sticks to your clothes and hands, and even smears across your face, washed away by a stream of tears. He wipes them away with one hand; he can’t give a damn about the blood he leaves in its place.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes. You sob as fall forward, your head landing solidly against his shoulder. Your whole body trembles and shudders with each cry. He’s disconcerted by the sound of your voice, no longer purposefully muffled. He threads his fingers into your hair, holding you to him. “Shh. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

If your body ached at the bottom of the pit, now you couldn’t even think about moving. Astarion had carried you as far as he could and then some, until Karlach had to take you from his arms before he dropped you. Even then, he stayed right by her side, watching you anxiously.

Back at camp, Shadowheart healed what she could, but most of her energy was spent during the fight. Haslin took over, but even the best he could do would have you bruised and in pain for the next few days. He went into the woods for ingredients to make a soothing balm.

Wyll helped you drink water, and Gale helped you drink some broth, to hold you over until he could make dinner proper. Lae’zel rifled through your veritable hoard of supplies to find you some suitable armor and weapons, and worked to sharpen and polish them.

When you were finally given the chance to rest, Astarion carried you from your bedroll into his tent, laying you down on his own bedroll. He provided as many pillows as you wished, as many blankets as you could ever ask for. He gathered a bowl of water and a fresh cloth and worked to clean the grime off your face.

You watched blankly, too emotionally and physically exhausted to process much. He passed the cloth over your forehead. It was blessedly cool, but the flash of red that crossed your vision could not be ignored.

Arms like lead, you willed a hand to grab his, stopping him mid-swipe. He winced as you pried the cloth from his hand, where it dropped wetly onto your neck, and ran your thumb along his palm. Blisters and blood covered every inch, skin torn and peeling in places. Without even thinking, you try casting a spell to heal him.

Whereas before, when you tried to cast a spell, you could feel it draining your energy from you, now you just felt nothing. It was like dipping a bucket into a well and coming up empty. There is no more magic within you to fuel a spell. Tears prick at your eyes again.

Astarion sighs, long and low. “You don’t have your magic.”

It takes far too much effort to even shake your head. You take a breath, and through the rasping pain, you speak. “They… took it away when… I called for help…” You swallow thickly. Your voice was foreign to you.

It was foreign to Astarion, too. He could recognize the way you signed, the slight variations of years of experience against Gale’s book-perfect signing or even Wyll’s slower, more purposeful movements. He associated it with you so strongly. To hear you speak was like watching a ventriloquist put on a show.

A bitter feeling took hold within him. Just like all gods, all masters, all people with power to laud over another, you were abandoned in your darkest hour, by someone you spent so long dedicated to. Prayers, offerings at alters, your faithful silence - it would never be enough, not to a god who always craved more.

But now isn’t the time to say I told you so. Gently, he removes his hand from your grasp. Your hand flops back to your side. He takes the cloth from where it rested at your neck, re-wets it, and continues cleaning your face.

He doesn’t say anything as he wipes away your tears, catching them before they have a chance to slide down to your ears. When the sobs choke you, he helps you drink some water. When your sorrow lulls you to sleep, he tucks you in and stays by your side, a faithful argus.

---

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prettyrenjunn · 7 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫

haechan x f!reader

themes- best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff & crack

summary- haechan gets unnecessarily jealous a lot considering you’re just little ole’ best friends and it takes renjun pointing it out for him to realise.

it’s my first time writing like this i wanted to try it out but damn it’s hard. also if there’s mistakes… my bad

he’s ridiculous.

you think he might need a smack to the back of his head to finally come to his senses but you keep your hands to yourself, no matter how infuriating he is. “hyuck there’s nothing to be upset over.”

he’s going to deny it. he always does. “i’m not upset!” he grumbled back. “i just don’t understand why you and jeno were partners when we’re always partners.”

you can’t even fathom why he’s so upset you had a different partner for your friend groups game night but for some reason he always gets like this. you know donghyuck’s a clinger and he loves to be by your side with your attention on him as much as possible but god you were sick of this. “i’m not seeing the problem? i can partner up with whoever i want its not like we took a blood oath to always partner with eachother.”

it always goes like this until he gets frustrated and eventually..

“okay it’s fine let’s just talk about something else.”

renjun claims hyuck is in love with you and that’s why he always acts like a possessive idiot but you’re quick to shut him up as you notice the boy himself strutting over to the table. “i’m heartbroken. hanging out without me is evil, are you replacing me now?”

you and renjun both roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i wouldn’t dare take your placing knowing you’d never stop whining.” renjun quips back. donghyuck pulls a face until he’s swallowed the big chunk of a sandwich he just bit into.

“i don’t whine.”

renjun bursts out laughing pointing his fingers at the boy. “sure you do. you whined when i called shotgun in yn’s car. you whined when yn went on a date instead of going to sit in your room to watch you game- which sounds like a horrible time by the way. the most recent case of whining was you getting pissy about yn and jeno being partners for game night.”

sheesh renjun had a whole speech. hyuck pursed his lips for a minute before nodding his head. “okay well maybe i do whine a little. i feel like it makes me charming, it’s not always a guy wants to be next to his witch of a best friend all the time..OUCH”

the kick to the shin was well deserved.

donghyuck has become conscious of his problem of always wanting to be your number one. has he seriously always been like this? he wonders.

he notices when a random guy stares at you for a little too long or when jaemins hands linger on your waist for longer then they should- scratch that they should never be there in the first place. he knows jaemin’s a touchy guy but come on! everybody knows yn is his girl.

wait.

my girl??? oh my fucking god.

at this very moment donghyuck realises he’s been an oblivious idiot this entire time. how didn’t he notice sooner? he doesn’t remember ever being this dense but this explains everything. he’s not exactly sure what he has to do right now but one things for sure, he needs to tell renjun.

it takes 3 missed calls and a load of spam texting for renjun to stop doing whatever he was doing and meet up with him. donghyuck calls him a bad friend for not picking up on the first ring and renjun tells him if this isn’t something serious he’s gonna whoop his ass.

“seriously why the hell did you make me come here?” renjun questions suspiciously. “why aren’t you talking? lee donghyuck i swear to-“

“i like yn.” donghyuck whispers quietly in response as he stares down and fiddles with his hands nervously. “you made me realise the whole jealously problem and then i realised it’s because i like her.”

renjun wants to laugh at his friend but he doesn’t because he looks like he’s about to cry or piss his pants…or do both simultaneously. “yeah? and what are you going to do about these feelings?”

“cry probably.”

renjun laughs in his face and donghyuck stares at him appalled. “why are you laughing? this is serious renjun! she’s my best friend.”

renjun only tuts in response, how can two people be so blissfully oblivious. even from his and everyone else’s perspectives it’s obvious there’s something more going on than just a pair of best friends. “i think you have a 90% succession rate if you just grow some balls and confess.”

“90%” donghyuck cries out. “that’s not nearly enough! and i have balls already thank you very much. i felt them drop when i was 13.”

“if you’re not gonna listen to my advise why did i even come.” renjun glares.

“oh renjun aren’t you just so so sweet.”

he’s acting weird and he knows you’ve noticed with the weird looks you keep giving him. in his defence, he’s in shock and you look really pretty and HE LIKES YOU!

“are you sure you’re alright?” you reach up to place the back of your hand on his head. “hm you don’t feel that warm but your cheeks are on fire hyuck.”

his mouth dries up at the close proximity but he needs to get himself together. “i think i just need some water.” he clears his throat. “can i have some of yours?”

you don’t hesitate to pass your bottle of water over and he realises he’s made a mistake.

an indirect kiss.

he’s going to faint.

“maybe you should go home just incase you’re getting sick or something.” you bring him back to reality once again. “come on, i’ll make sure you get home safe.”

donghyuck shakes his head frantically. “i swear i’m okay.” he bursts out. “and the others are already on their way.” he adds.

you nod and the next 5 minutes waiting for your friends to arrive is spent with you yapping and him listening along despite the breakdown he’s having in his head.

when your friends arrive they all notice donghyuck is acting differently too but they drop it after he says he’s okay, it’s only renjun that has an idea of what’s going on with him.

“yn i heard some guy in your lecture asked you on a date.” jaemin wiggles his brows as he starts a new conversation. “what did you say? is he taking you out or what?”

your friends heads turn to you straight away waiting on your answer. you can particularly feels donghyucks stare burning through your skull. “you’re all so nosy.” you chortle “but i told him i’ll think about it.”

donghyuck releases the breath he’d been holding at your answer and then he’s grabbing your hand in a hurry and rushing you out of the diner. “hyuck! what the hell? what are you doing?” you pull your arm back and he lets you, but he continues storming towards your car and waits for you to unlock it. “i’m sorry. can we go home please.”

you’re unsure if he wants you to go into his apartment with him but when he turns back to look at you with glistening eyes you’re already unbuckling your seatbelt.

he drops himself down on the couch and you sit next to him, turning so you’re facing him. “talk to me hyuck? what’s going on?” you murmur but he stays silent. “it’s okay. you don’t have to talk about it. shall we watch something?”

he stays silent for another minute and then he turns to look at you as he speaks. “can you say no to him?”

“say no to who hyuck?”

“the guy that asked you on a date. can you say no?” you’re confused but you nod anyway. “thanks.”

“did he do something?” you speak up. you’re worried he’s some horrible guy but donghyuck shakes his head at your words. “oh then why-“

“i realised something.” he cuts you off and you let him without protesting. you’d rather he talk than bottle up whatever’s going on. “i get jealous and petty because i like you, and i think i get scared and insecure because you’re not mine.”

your heart starts beating faster, so does his. you’re about to talk again but he beats you to it. “you don’t have to say anything i know i’ve thrown this all on you out of the blue. i want you to know that it’s okay if you don’t like me the same way, we can move past this but please don’t leave me.”

he’s rambling and your smile gradually grows. “lee donghyuck.”

“yeah?”

“i’ve always liked you.”

later that day he gets a text.

renjun: how is everthing?

he doesn’t answer yet but he thinks this is the best day of his life.

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagine #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #haechan #haechan x reader #haechan x y/n #haechan x you #lee donghyuck #donghyuck x reader #bestfriendhaechan #nct dream fic

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agatharkn3ss · 1 month ago

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In case you missed another Death reference from Rio...

She explains how it wasn't her choice to join the coven this early, before Agatha got her purple back. She had to join because magic "ferried the closest, most appropriate candidate down. Or up"

She could've used any other word, but it seems like a deliberate reference to the ferryman from Greek mythology who transports the souls across the river of the underworld

Nerdy side note: there are 5 rivers in the underworld (and they were all formerly gods and goddesses):

The Acheron - River of Woe, though some refer to it as River of Healing

The Styx - River of Unbreakable Oath by which the gods swear

The Cocytus - River of Lamentation (often depicted frozen)

The Phlegethon - River of Fire

The Lethe - River of Forgetfulness (drinking its water would cause complete loss of memory)

So there is no River of Life (as suggested from "Rio Vidal") but there is nothing stopping Marvel from having their own interpretation! They could've even used the rivers as inspirations for the Road's trials, but I am spiralling so let's not go there...

#agatha all along #agatha all along spoilers #agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #aubrey plaza #rio vidal #agathario #agatha all along theory

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thedemonofcat · 1 month ago

Note

Jaskier never makes promises. He literally never says the word “promise”, and he swears no oaths.

It’s a subtle quirk. It takes Geralt years to notice. When he points it out, Jaskier says with false levity, “I guess I don’t.”

From the bard’s body language, Geralt can see he doesn’t want to talk about it, so the topic is dropped.

Years later—after Geralt screams his fury at Jaskier—the bard says in a broken voice, “Don’t worry, Geralt. I promise not to bother you anymore.”

The promise sears itself onto Geralt’s soul like a brand. One made of chaos, and he can feel it become binding.

Geralt whips around, but Jaskier was gone.

There are a few moments of confusion before Geralt realizes what just happened. Jaskier had promised, and that promise was sealed with chaos. Only the Fae had such an ability.

Twilight had begun to settle over the sky, casting the world in soft hues of purple and blue. Just beyond the edge of the trees, Geralt stood watching a ring of mushrooms, a small bowl of berries already set nearby.

"Spirits of earth and air, fae folk so fair, I call upon you with kindness and care. From meadow and wood, from twilight’s dim light, I invite you—come forth if it feels right," Geralt spoke softly, his words carried only by the wind.

But soon, the wind responded. Before he could prepare himself, a Fae materialized before him, radiating an ethereal glow.

"Hello there, white-haired one," the Fae greeted, a smile playing on its lips—eerily reminiscent of Jaskier's.

"Good evening," Geralt replied with calm politeness.

"May I know your name before we begin our little chat?" the Fae asked, amusement lacing every word.

"You may know it, but it’s not yours to keep," Geralt said, waiting for the Fae’s acknowledgment. "It’s Geralt."

"And why have you called upon me, Geralt?" the Fae asked, its tone playful yet curious.

"I made a promise to one of your kind," Geralt explained, the name weighed heavy in his mouth. "Jaskier."

The Fae let out a light, tinkling laugh. "Ah, yes, we remember. So tragic, but a deal is a deal."

"It wasn’t a true promise. I wish to see it undone," Geralt said, his voice firm.

"And what, may I ask, will you offer in return for such a promise to be broken?" the Fae inquired. The bowl of berries was nearly empty now—time was slipping away.

"My trade is with Jaskier, not with you," Geralt responded, resolute. "All I ask is that you tell him I wish to speak."

The last berry vanished, and Geralt knew the Fae would soon be gone.

"I could tell you how to summon Jaskier," the Fae offered, its form flickering as it prepared to disappear.

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ameagrice · 2 months ago

Text

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-five | when I say ‘hell’, you say ‘nah’

Being tied up and gagged sitting beside a barbecue spitting hot oil at you, was not on the agenda.

And yet you sighed, tied up to a barbecue. Across the porch, Nico sat the same way, bound to the railing. To your left, Grover mirrored him, tied up in the sun. He was sweating, and looked incredibly tired. You wished you could do something about the situation you got caught in, but the truth was, you couldn’t do a thing. Percy got you here, and only Percy could get you out.

“Lovely day!” Geryon flipped sausages. A bit of piping-hot oil landed on your cheek. You flinched, but he didn’t pay you any notice. “Lovely day…Eurytion, get those banners higher!”

Streamers and party balloons were tied up and taped to the windows by Eurytion, who you deducted to be a spineless man. He’d tied you all up at Geryon’s instructions and relaxed on the bench under the window, in the shade.

You tried desperately to think of a way you could contact anyone. Chiron, perhaps, who could advise you on what to do now that Percy had gotten you tied up and held hostage. Maybe even Sally Jackson, since she always knew what you could do. Her advice hadn’t failed you yet. But there were no water sources or reflective surfaces to make a rainbow, and you could reach your bag chucked out of the way down on the grass, anyway. Eurytion had been kind enough to put your dagger in your bag, rather than throwing it away. That was something.

Eurytion and Geryon ate barbecue food, put more on the grill, and ate that, too, until the sun had set relatively low. The whole time, you tried not to hyperventilate at the thought of Percy being eaten by monster horses. You tried not to think of the high possibility you’d be sold off like a piece in a thrift store. You tried not to, but your mind ran wild. Grover communicated with his eyes, probably as tired as you were after your struggle to get out of the ties. You hadn’t any idea what he was communicating, though—the sun beamed in your eyes.

You were beginning to think he wasn’t coming back at all, a hopeless sort of sadness setting in, when a desperate, boys voice rang out above the barbecue and Geryon’s terrible singing.

“Let them go!” Percy’s voice raged. He ran up the porch steps and rounded. He locked eyes with you, and then Grover and Nico. “I cleaned the stables. So let them go.” Relief lifted the weight off your shoulders, that Percy was still breathing.

Geryon lifted off his cooking apron and dumped it over the porch rail. “Did you, now? How’d you manage it, sonny?”

Breathing deeply, Percy explained. “The water from the river. I…controlled it. Cleared the stables out completely.”

Geryon nodded appreciatively. “Well, then, Mr. Genius, smart move. You could have at least poisoned the naiad that resides in there, but hey-ho.” The staticky radio on the bench next to Eurytion played an Elvis Presley song, cutting out here and there. Polk Salad Annie felt a little bit too upbeat for the unpredictable crowd.

“Let my friends go,” Percy seethed, not appreciating the insinuation that he hadn’t done enough. “We had a deal.”

Geryon chuckled. “See, the problem is, and I’ve been thinking about this very deeply; if I let your friends go, I won’t get paid. They’re staying.”

Your eyes widened so much you might have looked comical. Percy turned gray. “You. Promised.”

“Ah, but you didn’t have me swear on the River Styx, did you? Therefore, it was not binding. Always remember, Percy, when you’re conducting any business, you should always swear on the River Styx. A binding oath is worth everything, alrighty?”

A beat of silence hit as Percy drew his sword. Riptide reflected the gold of the sun, strong at your friend’s side. Orthus, standing at Grover’s head, growled deeply.

Geryon waved Percy off like he was a knat. “Eurytion, he’s annoying me. Kill him.”

Grover and yourself protested as much as you could with your mouth’s somewhat bound too. Geryon looked away and slung a packet of bacon on the grill. At the same time, Percy inched closer to you, angling Riptide to the ties on your ankles. Orthus pounced and snapped at him, forcing Percy to move away. Saliva dripped from the dog’s mouths in a disgusting puddle near your feet. You couldn’t help feeling a little angry at him. For the first time, Percy had truly put your life at risk, and his way out of it failed to be effective.

“Kill him yourself,” said Eurytion, crossing his arms loosely.

Raising his dark brows, Geryon uttered a calm, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! You keep sending me to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no proper reason, and I’m tired of dying for you. You want the kid dead; kill him yourself.”

Tensely, the scene reminded you of a movie, like a cowboy facing down his enemy. You wanted to laugh, but honestly you felt a little too heat-exhausted and scared.

Geryon threw down the metal tongs. “How dare you defy me? I should be rid of you this instant!”

“And who’d look after your cattle then? Orthus, heel.” The dog left you, settling at Eurytion’s side.

“Whatever! I’ll deal with you later, after the boy’s gone.”

Then the scene

went

wild.

Geryon picked up two carving knives and threw them with such fury in Percy’s direction that they went haywire; he raised Riptide and deflected one away, over the rail, the other landed between Eurytion’s feet. Orthus barked aggressively, and Elvis Presley went crazy on the radio. Though obviously tired, and looking sweaty and pale (and in need of a shower after the stench of the stables), Percy went on the offence, raising Riptide and aiming right for Geryon’s head. He ducked and moved aside, causing the sword to go right through his middle chest. You looked away, praying to your mother you didn’t gag, because the way you were feeling in the sun, it would not be good. Geryon yelled in pain and thudded to the deck. You anticipated the familiar sound of crumbling to ashes and dust the way monsters usually do, but it didn’t happen.

“Nice try,” he growled. “Thing is, I obviously have three hearts. It’s the perfect backup!” You looked back just in time to witness him kick over the barbecue that had been boiling all day long. The metal grates fell away, as smoking coals spilled out. Being so close to it, one caught your cheek as it dropped, others burning around your feet. You screamed, and couldn’t stop it. Grover yanked uselessly at his bindings, while Orthus approached him in a low crawl. Elvis didn’t give a shit that you found yourself in a stressful situation. Eurytion stepped back down the porch steps. Nico looked visibly terrified. After all, he was only a kid.

Percy struck Geryon in the chest again, but he only laughed in his face. The dark-haired boy ran the sword through his stomach but it did absolutely nothing. Percy persevered, usually, so watching him take off inside the house was a kick to the stomach. He couldn’t leave you here, surely? Your cheek itched painfully from the burn of the coal and the oil and the sun, you were tired and hot and stressed. Sooner rather than later, you might explode.

Geryon launched the large barbecue fork through the open doorway, and it landed in something with a terrible clunk. “Your head’s gonna go there, Jackson, next to the bear!”

In the doorway, Percy appeared carrying a large bow and notched an arrow, shocking since he couldn’t so much as hit a target a metre away at camp. Geryon berated him verbally with cruel remarks and laughter, but Percy was not to be deterred. The monster didn’t need weapons to charge toward Percy, who dove sideways. Before he could react, Percy let the arrow fly. It shot straight through Geryon’s arm in a bloody mess, and right through his bodies to the other side, landing in the wall inside the house. The ranch grew still and quiet, Geryon turning. “You can’t shoot,” he struggled to talk. “They told me you can’t.” In a sickly shade of violent green, he fell to his knees heavily and promptly turned to ashes, grains as small as sand. Silently, all that remained was a pair of jeans, a huge shirt and boots.

Percy turned, dropping the bow to the deck, clattering. In his pocket Riptide had returned. He cut your mouth free first, careful of the stinging cheek, knowing somehow that freedom of speech was what you wanted now.

You coughed to clear your throat, and brilliant-gray met sea-green. “Glad you’re still breathing, Percy Jackson.”

He swallowed, cutting through the binding at your ankles. “Glad you’re still here, B.”

You collected your backpack and dug straight for a bottle of water, sipping slowly as Grover and Nico were released. Casting the bottle away into your bag, you stood to build up the barbecue again, and offered the last packs of burgers to the gods as a thanks for helping Percy actually get a good shot…and not somehow shooting you, instead (which he had nearly done, once before).

Nico said Eurytion should be tied up, and Grover agreed on the grounds that his dog had tried to kill you all. Murder wasn’t in your books, and you didn’t want to become a subject of interest, but the old man had done nothing while you cooked under the sun and was going to allow you to be handed over to Luke. So…something had to be done.

“Why don’t we just…” you thought, “I don’t know, actually. Could just tie him and make a run for it before he breaks free?”

“Or we could contact Chiron?” Suggested Grover. “Maybe he could do something about this?”

You waved him off. “Chiron would be too nice.”

Percy raised his brows. “And just tying some up is isn’t being too nice?”

“Alright! I’m just saying, murder is a bit far. He isn’t completely guilty. He didn’t really do anything to us.”

“Didn’t do anything for us, either,” retorted your friend. Percy flicked his hair from his face, sweaty and sun-kissed.

Nico gasped with an idea. “We could kill him, and then I’ll go and judge him in the Underworld.”

You clicked your fingers, pointing at Nico. “Ha ha, that’s not what we’re gonna do.”

“Look,” breathed Percy, pocketing Riptide-now-pen. He held out a hand to Eurytion as he spoke. “How long will Geryon take to reform and come back?”

“Couple hundred years,” the farmhand shrugged. “He ain’t one of those quick reformers.”

“Oh, thank you Zeus,” you mumbled. The sky rumbled, perfectly clear.

“You said you died for him in the past, didn’t you? How’d that happen?”

Eurytion explained his immortality, chosen way back when in his half-blood era. Percy stood beside you leaning on the fencing, raising his hand to shield his bright eyes from the blinding sun. In turn, his shadow blocked you, dimming the feel of burning on your face.

“You can change things ‘round here,” offered Percy, “be nice to the animals, not selling them. If we leave you here, you’ve got to stop trading with the Titans.”

Eurytion thought about it hard, and long. He sat silent, just pondering, until eventually he nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Hey, if you get the animals on your side, maybe when Geryon comes back, he’ll be working for you. Tables—turned.”

Eurytion hummed, chuckling low in his throat. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he grinned. He waved off in the distance. “Now go. I haven’t had peace and quiet in years. And the girl looks like she needs a hospital. Seriously, you look sick.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re not gonna stop us?” Grover pushed away from his seat. You leaned your elbow on his shoulder.

“Hell no.”

Despite his calm, laidback demeanour, you couldn’t help feeling suspicious. Raising your bottle to your warm cheeks, cooling them a little, you asked the question stuck on your mind. “He said somebody paid for our safe passage. The only person I can think of down here who could have done so would be Hera. She met us in the maze. She gave us some not-so-helpful advice. You seen her anywhere?”

Eurytion shrugged. “I don’t know what he was talking about. And I ain’t seen any gods round here, lady.”

“What about Luke, and his army? Did you actually tell them we’re here?”

He scoffed with humour. “Did I hell. We were waiting until after the barbecue. So to answer your indirect question, missus, they don’t know about Mr. Nico.”

The boy himself glared right at you with such passion it almost physically burned. Two options were here and two only.

“You can come with us and get out of here,” you offered. “Or you can stay on the ranch for a while. Either way you’d be quite safe.”

Nico’s face warped to one of fury. His skinny fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Safe? What do you know about being safe? You got my sister killed!”

You practically saw red. Shoving your bag into Percy’s fumbling arms, you leaned down to face Nico, who ground his teeth loudly. “Alright, you little shit—let’s get one thing straight before we go anywhere: I did not get your sister killed. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and ultimately I’ve decided that Bianca had her own brain, and her own free will. I didn’t make her do anything, and I didn’t push her. It was a tragic accident, okay?”

“Nico,” Percy stood beside you, laying a warm hand on your shoulder and urging you back from the kid who didn’t move. “She’s right. Please believe her. Believe us. None of this was anybody’s fault. Staying here would be fine, you don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to. But if Kronos finds out about you, he’ll take you, and he’ll do anything to get you on his side. It won’t be good, Nico, trust me.”

Nico turned his face away. “I’m not on anyone’s side. And I’m not scared of any of this.”

“You really should be. Bianca wouldn’t want any of this.”

He turned back. Nico’s eyes swam with tears, and you felt a little bad for popping off. “If you knew my sister, you know she’d want to come back! If you cared about her, you’d help me to bring her back.”

“A soul for a soul, right?”

“Yes!”

Percy looked troubled. “But if you didn’t want B, and you didn’t want me, then who?”

“I’m not explaining anything to either of you!” He exclaimed. When a tiny tear tread down his cheek, Nico raised his hand to wipe it away aggressively. “I’m going to bring her back. She’s my sister. I need to…I need her.” He rubbed his eyes viciously.

You deflated. Nico tried to look brave, and act older than he was, but his eyes were rimmed with red as he rubbed at them, and he choked on his tears. All of a sudden you wanted nothing more than to sit him down and talk to him, apologise for shouting when he was so upset. You wanted to kick yourself for acting impulsively, and shouting at a child as they cried. At fifteen years old, you should have known better. You reminded yourself terribly then of your father.

“Why don’t we ask Bianca what she wants?”

Nico’s face stilled. “I’ve tried,” he said miserably. “She won’t answer.”

“Try again,” shrugged Percy. A cold breeze shocked you, suddenly. In the distance, storm clouds were rolling in out of a perfectly sunny day…. “I have a feeling she’ll answer with me here.” He sounded very confident in that, and for what reason?

“Why would she?” Asked Nico.

“Because she’s been sending me messages,” Percy shifted on his feet at the sudden onslaught of confused looks. “I’m sure she has. She’s been warning me of what you’re doing. She wanted me to protect you.”

Nico wiped his eyes furiously. “That’s impossible.”

“Why is it?” Percy offered. “Besides, didn’t you say you’re not afraid? Let’s try it. We’ll need a lot of food, and a pit. You got anything like a grave around here?”

—

The grave happened to be dug especially by yourself and Grover. You never were one for gardening, and you find yourself slacking towards the end of the grave-digging.

“Come on,” urged Grover, sweaty and tired. “Just—we can do this. We’ve got this. Positive thinking. Deep breath in…”

You want to tell Grover that positive thinking won’t influence positive actions, because your limbs feel like lead. But together you finish the grave, and your friends pull you out of it. You waited until dark, the five of you and the dog, to call on the dead. With crates of root beer at the ready, Nico paced back and forth, anxious. You sat at the edge of the grave and dangled your legs in, exhausted beyond belief. Every now and then you had to kick away a bug. Grover sat on his heels, sleeping on the crates of root beer.

“Minos should be here by now!” Came Nico’s tiny voice, his dark eyes full of worry. The moon was high and full and bright. Percy’s infinite gray streak shone in the light, a patch among dark, dark hair. “It’s dark enough. It’s late enough…”

“Maybe he got lost,” suggested Percy. Nico glared furiously.

Percy crouched beside you and clapped you on the shoulder, digging his fingers in as a means to try and show you he was there. Maybe he knew you well enough by now to know you were getting irritated and agitated, waiting and tired and forcing your eyes to stay open.

Little Nico grew fed up himself, and wrenched a bottle of root beer from the crate, pouring it into the pit. Grover jerked away, and began helping. With food in a pile from the forgotten barbecue, Nico’s hands dashed out hungrily, and threw them into the pit too, chanting in Ancient Greek. To anyone else, the sudden chill of the night air and the aura that settled with Nico’s chanting might have been terrifying, or uncomfortable. You found the grim ordeal that was summoning the dead to be a rather interesting situation. Something satisfying in raising what once was. A reminder that things never truly died.

It didn’t take long for someone to come forward. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right someone.

A dark shade of blue, a thin and whispery figure that mirrored who it was once, kneeled at the edge of the grave and reached in. The image somewhat shimmered, and when you looked hard enough, features showed through; deep-set eyes, hardened and somewhat angry; facial features showing crows feet around the eyes, dark brows…

“Minos!” Yelled Nico, suddenly on guard. He brought forth his sword, aimed at the ghost. “What are you doing?!”

“My apologies,” he said, though there wasn’t a hint of sorry in there. Slowly, the ghost’s image grew a bit more real, more colorful. “The sacrifice seemed too good to leave be. Almost in solid form—it’s nice to see myself again.”

“You are disrupting the Ritual! Leave, now!”

Minos paid him no mind. You’d long since jumped away from the edge of the grave, and joined Percy’s side, but something about the ghost ignited in you a want to take Nico’s sword and run the loser through with it. He turned to the two of you, running his eyes in a way that had you almost wretching.

“Percy Jackson!” He hummed. “My, my. The sons of Poseidon never seem to get any better.”

A rude and untrue comment, because you’d seen old images of Greek heroes, and Percy was the best by a million. Not that you’d say that out loud, or anything.

Percy had a lot more self-control than you did in the moment, because he simply took a deep breath, and said, “We’re looking for Bianca. Get lost.”

“Do you really believe Daedalus will help you?” Minos taunted, tilting his head. Nico had begun chanting again, kneeling at the edge of the pit with Grover kneeling dutifully at his side, taking care. “He cares nothing for you, half-bloods! You certainly cannot trust him. He’s cursed by the gods, and guilty of murder. You want somebody like that on your side?”

“Who did he kill?” Asked Percy.

“Don’t change the subject!” Minos spat, a confirmation that he was talking bull, really. “Stop hindering Nico. Don’t persuade him to abandon his goals!”

“We’re helping Nico,” you touched your dagger tucked away in the pocket of your pants. “He’s a child. Leave him alone.”

The ghost settled by Nico’s ear, leaning down to mutter. Nico visibly flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t listen to them, Nico. Let me protect you, not them. I’ll turn them to madness as I did the others. Just say the word.”

If Minos wasn’t already dead, you swore, you’d have killed him there and then.

“Was it you?” Barked Percy. “Did you hurt Chris Rodriguez?”

Minos rolled his eyes lazily, turning around to face Percy. He got in real close to his face; Percy’s arm shot out in front of you and urged you backwards, away from the vile ghost. “The maze is my property,” he hummed. Percy refused to back away. “Those who intrude on it deserve madness.”

Nico turned furious, whether at Minos’s lecturing, or his interrupting. Either way, he turned to the ghost and ran him through with his sword. “Go away, Minos! Leave us!” His voice turned sad and desperate, like he was tired of this too. “Bianca! Come on!”

It was heart-wrenching, watching Nico beg for his dead sister. It wasn’t fair.

But she’d heard him. Bianca came forth, a silvery wisp of light from the dark trees in the distance, growing closer. You didn’t feel wary of her, and Percy dropped his sword, Nico backed away to give her space, and Grover shuffled away from the edge as Bianca knelt to accept the offering in the pit. When she got to her feet, she was a solid hue of silvery-blue form, the image of herself in life. It was like the chatter grew quiet, the chaos turned silent, when Bianca smiled sadly at her brother. Nico had grown still, and pale.

He wasn’t the first one she spoke to, though. “Hello, Percy,” said Bianca, her voice like a lullaby. Her body flickered like the stars would, before it stilled.

“Bianca…” One look at Percy had you reaching for his hand, clasping it between both of yours. He was choked up. You didn’t blame him one bit—you hadn’t known Bianca well at all, and she’d killed herself in the process of saving you all, but even seeing her again like this had your throat burning. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Percy. I made my choice.” Somehow, she seemed older, calmer, and a whole lot more at peace, as if this didn’t phase her and her death was simply an article she’d read in a paper and let pass over her, at the back of her mind. “I don’t regret it, either.” Her eyes, a mirror of Nico’s own, fell on you. What did you look like to her, you wondered later? Holding back your own teary eyes the way Percy did.

She turned to face her brother quickly, and his name fell from her lips. She turned sad.

“Oh, Nico.” She raised a hand to cover her mouth. “You’ve gotten so tall.”

“Why didn’t you answer me any sooner!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find you for months!”

“I was hoping you’d give up, Nico. Please give up.”

Heartbroken, Nico reached for her, but his hand passed right through. “Give up?…I’d never!”

“I need you to do this, Nico. Trust Percy. Trust her.”

“No! She let you die! They’re not our friends!”

Bianca’s ghostly hand reached out to touch Nico’s cheek, but she fizzled out too quickly, and never made contact with him. “You must listen to me now, because this is important. Holding grudges is bad for children of Hades. It’s our fatal flaw, and you must forgive.”

“I can’t. I’ll never.”

Bianca struggled, exhaled. Her eyes betrayed every feeling in her body—anguish, anger, sadness. “Percy has been worried for you, Nico. I let him see what you were up to so that he could help you. You understand, don’t you?”

“It was you, then,” shuddered Percy. “You were sending me those messages.”

Bianca nodded softly. “I was.”

Nico demanded her attention. “No, listen!” He screamed and went to grab at her again. “Don’t help him! Help me! This isn’t fair!”

Bianca kneeled to be face-to-face with Nico. “You’re so close to the truth now, Nico. Believe me. It isn’t them you’re angry at; it’s me. And it’s okay to be angry, do you understand? You’re allowed to be upset—”

“No!” He heaved a great cry.

“You’re mad because I left you, to join the Hunters. And you’re so angry because I died and left you here. It wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry.” Bianca’s voice turned thick with emotion. “But you must try to accept this, now. I cannot come back. And you must stay with them.” She nodded at you and Percy.

“I just want you back,” Nico sobbed. Bianca, on her knees, looked as if in a great deal of pain. She swallowed hard, and her voice was shaky.

“You can’t have that, Nico. This is how it has to be. And one day, we’ll be reunited again properly. Trust me. Believe in that. I’m never too far away, even when you can’t reach me. But for now, you have to let me go. Can you do that for me, Nico? You’re so strong…you’re so brave.” She turned suddenly to look over her shoulder at something the rest of you couldn’t see. “I must go now. Your powers are attracting unwanted attention. I have to go back.”

“Wait!” A terrible, pained cry ripped from Nico’s throat. “Please don’t go!” He heaved. “Please stay! Don’t leave me here!”

“I love you, Nico.”

You understand Bianca then, and her decision. It was why you dropped Percy’s warm hand and took up Nico’s cold, limp one. He heaved and cried, and didn’t protest when you lay your free hand on the side of his head, and gently pulled him to you. You raised your gaze from Nico’s teary, reddened eyes, squeezed tightly shut, to Bianca’s mirrored gaze. A single, shiny tear trailed down her translucent face, and you tried to convey one last message: Nico would not be alone.

She nodded slowly, and sniffled once. Getting to her feet, Bianca managed a sad smile, and lowered her eyes to Nico once more. He was the last thing she saw, as she trailed out of the mortal world for the final time. Bianca di Angelo simply faded away.

Just because she’d told him to trust you, didn’t mean he trusted you right away. That night, Nico sat out on the porch alone, talking to somebody that wasn’t there, crying to himself. You’d tried to talk to him, but had no luck. Nico demanded to be left alone, so you left him. When you returned two hours later, he’d fallen asleep on the bench, a hand tucked under his cheek. Percy dug out a blanket from one of the bedrooms upstairs, and you’d covered Nico over as the night air grew chilly. Your heart felt heavy, but the day’s trials didn’t prevent you from falling asleep quickly. The boys took the sofas downstairs, and you picked a spot at the bay window with a comforter and pillows. Sleep took you the second you laid down your head.

Your mother decided it was a good time to pop up and say hello, apparently.

You recognised the setting immediately as New York’s Public Library. Beyond the windows lining either two walls, the sky was black as could be, no stars or anything showing through. The lights and the slightly dusty chandeliers on the ceiling of the grand roof were golden, more yellow than usual, and the tables stretching the length of the hall were empty as could be, the dark stretch of tile down the middle aisle echoing your footsteps the further you walked.

At the end of the wall, standing beneath the clock small in the grand wall, was a tall lady, casual as could be in jeans and a pretty sweatshirt. This didn’t defer her from wearing a sword in a scabbard at her hip. Long, light hair was tied back in a practical bun, tight and secure. In her hands was a heavy book, and her brilliant gray eyes scanned it furiously. She didn’t look up from it until you’d paused at her side, peering up at the taller woman, admiring her. Strange, how the gods technically had no DNA, and yet you were her mirror image. The same jawline, the same nose, definitely the same eyes. She was pretty, really pretty, and she carried herself with confidence.

It would have been nice to be acknowledged, however similar you were.

“Mom?” You voiced into the quiet library air.

“Chapter eighteen of The Iliad—what do you know of it?”

You raise your eyebrows, curiously. “I don’t know off the top of my head, exactly. There’s a fight over Patroclus’s body, isn’t there? Real dramatic, like. They’re worried about going to fight the Trojans. Achilles worries about the outcome of Patroclus going out to join the fight.”

“Do you notice any similarities between this and our life?” She quips. Your mom huffed at something she read, and snapped the book shut. The cover was battered leather, the title almost rubbed away. It was old, but no dust rose from it.

You shrug, and feel somewhat nervous. “We’re history repeating itself?” You offer. “Is this to do with Bianca, last night? The fight over what happened to her, fighting over what she wanted for her end?”

Mom hummed, and threw the book over her shoulder. You had a sudden desire to catch it, but as you went to grab it, as it hit your hands, heavy as hell, it disappeared, as though she’d never thrown a thing. Your mother turned to watch you, bringing your brows together, spinning in a circle to look for this damn book like a stupid dog chasing its tail.

“The fight for life is always happening,” said mom, factually. “What happened to Bianca di Angelo was a negligible accident. She could have been saved.”

Frozen, you shakily exhaled. Gray met the mirror image.

“She could have been saved, but it was her destiny. You understand, don’t you, daughter? That what is meant to be is meant to be. So even though you could have saved her life one way or another, she was supposed to die.”

You scoff, and surprise yourself at the burning in your eyes. “People aren’t supposed to just die, mom. When their time comes, when they’re old, then sure. Not like this.”

“Was it not Bianca’s time? Who decides when it is right to die?”

“What’s the point of this?” You snap. “Did you bring me here just to take a dig at me?”

“Everybody has their time. I’m here to tell you to your friend that he should stop meddling in things. Leave things well alone.”

“Great advice. After we’ve sorted things. Bit late to the party.”

“Not entirely.” She tilted her head. “Before I go, just one thing—tell Percy Jackson to let the dead rest, when the time comes.”

“That’s ominous.”

“That’s life,” mom hummed. “I’ll let you go, now. The boy is trying to wake you up.”

When you come to, Percy is knelt beside you. Sunrise is in your eyes, and Nico is shouting downstairs. You gather your things, and prepare to make your way back into the maze.

—

TAGLIST

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lunarmoonanons · 5 months ago

Text

Fire and Salt chp 16

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

The war of the Ravens would end. The War of the Dragons would begin.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

YN got her riding habit ready and arranged herself so that she’d make a good impression. She knew she had to let Luke make a impression as well. She had to let him speak and let them both remind the lord of the oath that was sworn. She was prepared as well, that after visit to Storm’s End she would rally the small folk against the Greens and in support of her mother.

YN, Jace, and Luke walked up to their mother who held scrolls in her hands for them. YN remained strong for her mother and showed no fear at being sent as an envoy to garner support.

“It’s been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men. And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps,” Rhaenyra explained and looked to her children. “But, if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms… we must answer to their gods. If you take this errand you go as messengers… not as warriors. You must take no part in any fighting. Swear it to me now, under the eyes of the seven.”

A guard came up with a book of the seven presented to the trio. Luke was the first to place his hands on the book looking right into his mother’s face.

“I swear it,” He said.

“I swear it,” Jace was next.

Rhaenyra looked to her daughter last. YN placed her hand on the book and looked at her mother. “I swear it.”

“Cregan Stark is close to your than is mine. I would hope, that as men, you can find some common interest. But speak highly of your sister whilst with him,” Rhaenyra spoke to Jace.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Luke looked a brief look to YN that was full of worry. He then looked to his mother and stepped forward toward her. Still carrying that look of worry on his face.

“Storm’s End is a short flight from here. You have Baratheon blood from your grandmother, Rhaneys,” Rhaenyra reassured him. “And… Lord Borros is an eternally proud man. He will be honored to host a prince and princess of the realm… and their dragons.”

Rhaenyra held his hand for a moment assuring him of the trip. YN stood next to her little brother and Rhaenyra brought one of her pale hands up to her light brown cheek. Brushing away a curly lock of hair.

“I expect you both will receive a very warm welcome.”

“Yes mother. Y-Your Grace,” Luke said.

The three left and went to their dragons. YN rode on Seasmoke’s back and patted his scaly back. She flew him high and led her little brother through the air toward the direction of Storm’s End. She looked back at her brother and sent him a reassuring smile as they flew fast toward the hold at Storm’s End. YN loving the hair whipping about her face and hair. They flew only a short while but YN paid no mind to the thundering clouds and lightning strikes. She needed to remain calm fo there brother. As they landed in the courtyard of the castle. The guards looking them as they dismounted from their dragons. But as they made their way closer to the castle, they saw and heard Vaghar in the distance. YN’s eyes widened as she knew what that meant. Aemond was here and she would have to face him.

“I am Princess YN Velaryon. This, Prince Lucerys Velaryon. We bring a message to Lord Borros from the Queen,” YN remained calm. The guards turned and led the two into the castle. When they entered the hall together they greeted with the sight of the Lord seated at the center.

YN and her brother were announced making Aemond turn and look at them. He tried to keep his gaze off YN as he knew she would make him weak. Her acceptance of his proposal at the front of his mind.

YN leaned toward her brother and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he looked at Aemond. Aemond betrayed no emotion to him, but YN could see right through him. His eye was on her and he regretted.

“Lord Borros…” Lucerys started, looking at the man. “We’ve brought you a message from our mother… the Queen.”

“Yet earlier this day I received an envoy from the king. Which is it? King or Queen?” The lord asked, YN stared deep into this man, her eyes piercing him. Though the lord did not show it, she made anyone nervous when she pierced them with a stare. “The House of the Dragon does not seem to who rules it.” He laughed. “What’s your mother’s message?”

Lucerys handed the scroll to a knight and spared a glance at the looming figure of Aemond.

Aemond, who silently begged for YN to look at him. For her to see that he still wanted to marry her, that although he chose his family he still loved her and wanted her. That what he was to say he did not truly mean. And that if she signaled he would announce their engagement. He still loved her.

YN did not look though. She kept her piercing gaze on Lord Borros. Who called for the maester to read the message. Luke kept looking back at Aemond, wishing for his sister to hold his hand, or hold him close and protect him.

“Remind me of my father’s oath,” The man seethed, YN wanted to roll her eyes at his entitlement. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids… which one of my daughters will you wed… boy?”

“My lord… I am not free to marry. I’m already betrothed.” Luke said.

“And I as thought it, prince Aemond was not free to marry. Unless he has decided to break his betrothal.” YN spoke up, still not looking at Aemond, who stared at her with pleading eyes.

“You come with empty hands. Go home boy.” Borros declared. “And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.”

“We shall take your answer to the Queen, my lord,” YN responded. “But do know that with the north secured with My betrothal as well as the Eyrie and the Velaryon fleet, you are outnumbered.”

Aemond held his breath at that. Not caring for numbers but hearing that his YN was breaking their unofficial pact to marry the Warden of the North He hated himself and what he had done. But when he looked at Lucerys he hated him more. When he turned to go YN gave a fleeting glare at Aemond and Aemond wanted to hurt Lucerys even more.

“Wait…” Aemond called out making Luke stop. “My Lord Strong.”

That made Luke walk back. YN held her hand out and held him back a bit. Not wanting Luke to do anything stupid. She whispered so silently that only Luke heard her telling him to be smart and brave that she would the talking to Aemond.

“Did you really think you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?” Aemond asked not looking at YN so that he would not see her hate.

“I will not fight you,” Luke said. “We came as messengers not as warriors.”

“A fight would be little challenge from you,” Aemond stated, looking a fleeting at YN glaring at him. He would never fight her, not that he couldn’t put up a fight against her thin blade but it would pain him to raise a blade to her.

“No. I want you to put out your eye,” Aemond declared as he pulled his eyepatch off revealing the sapphire underneath. “As payment for mine. One will serve,” He threw a dagger on the ground at Luke who lifted one hand to hold his sister’s that held him back. “I will not blind you. Plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

“No.” Luke exclaimed. YN let him squeeze her hand.

“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

“Not here,” Lord Borros demanded.

“Give me your eye or I will take it, bastard!” Aemond shouted. Making YN reach for her knife that she kept tucked at her side.

“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros shouted and stood up. “The boy came as and envoy. I’lkl not have bloodshed beneath my roof. Take the prince and princess back to their dragons. Now.”

The guards led them out of the hall, YN sparing no last glance at Aemond who wished she did. He watched her perfect curly white hair bounce slightly as she was spirited out of the hall. He wanted to run forward and grab her, declaring that she would marry none but him. But he was made to watch as she walked away from him. Away from what they could have been.

YN ran toward Seasmoke and tried to calm to ansty dragon. “Gīda Seasmoke. Rȳbagon naejot issa. Ao līs sagon gīda.” (Calm Seasmoke. Listen to me. You must be calm.)

She climbed upon her dragon’s back. She looked to Luke who seemed very nervous as he commanded his dragon to obey. The two spared a look at each other and rode their dragons up into the air. The storm rained down upon them as they flew their dragons back to Dragonstone. YN flying just behind Luke so that she would be the first to face Vaghar if it came to it. Hopefully. Seasmoke was very fast so the restraint she gave her dragon was evident.

Luke and YN flew headfirst into the storm, hearing in the distance Vaghar. YN knew he was chasing after Luke and hoped he would face her first. YN could not place where Aemond was. The two envoys looked around and heard Aemond calling out to Luke demanding him to pay a debt. He shouted in Valyrian at the boy who looked around with his sister for the culprit.

YN saw her brother’s dragon turn back. Hearing Vaghar behind them she tried to shout at Luke who tried to order his dragon forward. Her heart dropped to her stomach when she saw Arrax shoot fire at Vaghar. YN shouted in fear for her brother and turned Seasmoke toward her brother. She watched as Luke went high into the air and above the cloud line. She followed suit and was faster than Vaghar. She found Luke up above the clouds and shouted at him to look at her.

“Luke! Be calm! You can do this but you must be calm!” YN shouted in assurance. Luke spared her once last glance looking at his sister for reassurance as she always gave it to him. She wasn’t close to him. She would regret that.

She watched as Vaghar shot up from the clouds and teared Luke’s dragon apart. Her brother was murdered and she was frozen. It was like the world stopped, her heart went fast and couldn’t stop. She started to breathe faster and faster as she watched the remains of her brother and his dragon fall from the sky.

YN then screamed and with no sense of preservation and semblance of thought, YN flung herself from her dragon. In her mind she had to get her brother. And seeing him fall made her go mad. She fell from the sky not hearing Aemond as he shouted for her.

“YN!!” Aemodn screamed and tried to fly Vaghar to catch her.

But Seasmoke was faster. Seasmoke flew down to grab his rider in his back claws before Vaghar could get her. Seasmoke grabbed the girl and flew away toward Dragonstone. Ignoring the shouts of protest from YN.

“Daor Seasmoke! Jikagon arlī! īlon emagon naejot jikagon arlī! Rȳbagon naejot issa! Jikagon arlī!” (No Seasmoke! Go back! We have to go back! Listen to me! Go back!) YN Shouted.

But Seasmoke did not listen. He would obey her normally but he was now following the orders of his original rider: Laenor. “But above all Protect her. Protect her no matter what.”

YN cried and screamed all the way back to Dragonstone. Yelling at the sky and at her dragon for not obeying her. When they arrived at the island, Seasmoke landed and released his rider who fell to the ground and could not stop screaming. Of all people, it was Daemon who came up to the girl and demanded what was wrong. And from her cries he figured out the terrible truth.

“Get the princess inside now!” He barked at the guards.

YN stopped screaming and now sobbed. She couldn’t stop sobbing. The war was inevitable now. And she failed to protect her brother.

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #poc reader #velaryon reader #woc reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen #fire and salt

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onceuponastory · 2 years ago

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heartbeats - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Like most people in the hospital she works in, Y/N is head over heels in love with the gorgeous paramedic Bucky Barnes. Yet she has come to the conclusion that their small chats they have whenever he drops off a patient is the closest thing they have to a relationship. That is, however, until an accident on a night out brings them closer together. Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Doctor!Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, needles, pain meds/drugs, injuries (nothing too graphic) and bruising. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: This is my first entry for the @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse Challenge! One of my squares was Nurse, so here we are! Obligatory I am not a doctor (clearly), so my medical knowledge may not be the most accurate. Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“Hey. What have we got?” Y/N asks, waiting to greet the incoming ambulance.

“You know, I’d say I admire your tenacity to provide the best care to patients as soon as they arrive… but I know the real reason you got down here so quickly.” Her coworker smirks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here to help treat the patient, which I swore an oath to do.” Y/N lies, ignoring the way her cheeks are heating up with embarrassment.

“Oh suuure, you’re totally here for honest reasons. Definitely not just to see if the hot paramedic is coming. You’re really not subtle, Y/N.”

“Who's to say that’s not why you’re here, too?” Y/N replies. But her coworker is right. Y/N loves her job as a doctor, and getting to help so many people from all different walks of life. Especially after the amount of studying it took to get here. Yet, she’d be lying if she said that seeing the paramedic Bucky Barnes isn’t a big part of her job happiness. Bucky, the aforementioned hot paramedic, is charming, caring and makes everyone in the hospital swoon with just a smile in their direction. If Bucky treated all the people who have heart palpitations and need oxygen when he shows up, he’d be a billionaire.

As one of the lead emergency doctors in the hospital, Y/N comes into contact with Bucky a lot during her shifts. And each time, his dazzling ocean blue eyes and winning smile send her heart into a flutter and make her legs go weak. Like everyone else in the hospital, Y/N is head over heels in love with the charming paramedic. Every time she sees him, she wants to get over her nerves and finally ask him out, or just to get to know him better. While, of course, secretly hoping that he feels the same way as she does. And yet, she just can't bring herself to tell him the truth. She and Bucky have a great working relationship despite only seeing each other during a patient handover, and despite how much she wants to get closer to him, she also doesn’t want to ruin what they have, and make either of their jobs awkward.

And besides, he has the pick of almost everyone in this entire hospital, so he definitely wouldn’t go for her.

But then, the sound of sirens cuts through the air, interrupting Y/N’s thoughts. It’s time to go to work, and not think about her incredibly attractive coworker. Yet, when the ambulance door opens, a familiar face steps out.

“Afternoon ladies.” Bucky grins. Y/N swears he even throws a wink in there. Immediately, her heart starts beating even faster. Sometimes, Y/N wonders if Bucky does actually know the effect he has on people, how he makes them all swoon and go weak with just a smile. If he does know, Y/N thinks he relishes in it.

“Hey. What have we got?”

“This is Mike. He’s a 23-year-old male who had a fall at work, and is now complaining of pain in his left side.” As Bucky explains the man’s condition, Y/N’s mind goes back to her feelings for him. She’d love to tell him the truth about how she feels more than anything, but the only time they see each other is when they’re with a patient, which doesn’t exactly lend itself to a lot of conversations, let alone heart to heart talks about your feelings. And her time spent with Bucky is always quick before he has to go be a hero again. She can’t just dump all her feelings for him when he’s about to leave. “Can I leave him in your very capable hands, Y/N?” Bucky asks, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Of course.” As Bucky departs, Y/N watches him go, registering a strange twinge in her heart. One she normally feels whenever Bucky is around. God, this man is definitely going to break her heart one day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few weeks later,

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? Your ankle looks really bad.”

“I’m fine.” Y/N lies. “I’m a doctor, remember?” A doctor with a very twisted ankle that hurts to even move. Groaning, Y/N leans back, trying to avoid hurting herself even more. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. It was a celebration of finally finishing four night shifts in a row and having some time off to recharge. But, after one drink too many and a pair of heels that are just too high to walk in comfortably, here she is. Sitting on the side of the road with a throbbing ankle and her pride and happiness shattered.

“Y/N, I really think we should call you an ambulance. You need to be checked out.”

“I’m a doctor, I can do it. I’m okay.” Y/N snaps. Gritting her teeth, she tries to push herself up, but cannot get to her feet without yelling out in pain.

“Absolutely not. You need to go to the hospital, and none of us are sober enough to drive you.” One of her friends replies, taking out her phone and calling for help, ignoring Y/N’s complaints. As she sits back down, trying to manoeuvre her ankle into a more comfortable position, Y/N knows her friends are right. She needs help, which she isn’t able to provide for herself. Maybe for once, after all her time spent taking care of others… it’s her turn to be taken care of. Soon enough, albeit longer than Y/N likes, an ambulance pulls up.

“Thank god.” She murmurs. However, when the paramedic steps out, illuminated by the streetlight, Y/N immediately regrets her words. “Oh, fuck.”

Bucky Barnes is standing right in front of her.

“Hey everyone, where’s the- Y/N?!” he gasps. She can’t fully explain the emotion on his face as he looks at her. In fact, it looks like a mix of emotions: surprise, concern and pity all rolled into one. Heat rises through Y/N’s body, settling on her cheeks. Bucky is the last person she wants to see her like this, sitting in the middle of the street on a Saturday night, in pain and crying, no doubt with her makeup smeared everywhere. At that moment, all she wants is for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Bucky kneels beside her, his face mere inches from her. “Not going to lie, you’re not who I expected to see tonight. But it’s a welcome surprise.” He smiles, and Y/N registers a familiar fluttering sensation in her stomach. “So, how are you feeling? Your friend said you broke your ankle, but what’s your personal diagnosis, doc?” He chuckles, and Y/N’s blush deepens. Bucky’s never called her doc before… and she’s just realised that she loves it.

“I think it’s just a sprain. Nothing worth worrying about.” Bucky chuckles, shaking his head.

“Well, you say that… but I still wanna check you over in the ambulance.” Y/N suppresses a groan. Of course he does. God, why does he have to be so thorough?! Why can’t, just this once, he- “Besides, if I missed something, I’d never forgive myself, especially if something terrible happened to you.” He admits, his words suddenly leaving her speechless and her heart racing. “Can’t have the best doctor in the area out of action, now can we?”

“Okay, now I know you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Nope. It’s true.” Bucky shrugs, and Y/N gasps.

“I-I-thank you.” She stammers out a reply, still in shock. She’s not used to this, to seeing Bucky outside of her job, and especially not as a patient. Or to be complimented so much by him. And what a way to start. But at least she’s finally going to know what being cared for by Bucky Barnes feels like.

“Can you walk?” Bucky asks, gently helping her up. When she yelps in pain after putting pressure on her injured foot, Bucky whispers: “It’s alright. Just lean on me, okay? Your carriage awaits.” He chuckles. Despite how weird this situation is, it feels nice to be so close to Bucky, and to be cracking jokes with him like they’re actually friends, and not just coworkers. Y/N just wishes it could be like this all the time. Aside from the twisted ankle, of course.

Slowly, Bucky leads her inside the ambulance, and onto the bed inside. Y/N watches him as he grabs all the equipment he needs. Her brain feels like it’s going a million miles a minute as Bucky’s words replay in her mind. “I’d never forgive myself.” Does he care about her? Is there a chance he feels the same way about her?

But then, her mind brings her crashing back down to reality. Of course he cares about her. It’s his fucking job. And right now, she’s just like any other patient. One that’s hopelessly in love with her paramedic and wants him to feel even a smidge of the love she feels for him. Although maybe, just this once, she can pretend that it’s just for her. Slowly, Y/N’s eyes wander lower. God, how does his ass look so good in that uniform?

“I bet this is a unique experience for you, huh? Being the one getting diagnosed?” Bucky laughs, turning back to her. “Especially by me.” Y/N nods, hoping and praying to whatever higher power there is that Bucky didn’t catch her staring, and especially not at his ass. “I just need to check your vitals.” Bucky explains, holding up a stethoscope. Y/N gulps. Bucky’s going to be closer to her than he ever has before, and there’s nothing she can do about it. Gently, Bucky lifts up her shirt, pressing the stethoscope to her skin. Despite the sensation of the cool metal against her skin, Y/N has never felt so warm in all her life.

“Your heart rate seems to be elevated.” He muses. “Take a deep breath for me.” As she does, Bucky tuts. “Your breathing is a little shallow, and you seem stressed. Although, I guess that’s normal after something like this.” Oh, if only he knew the true reason. As Bucky checks her blood pressure, his face is mere millimetres from hers. So close Y/N can see the grey hairs within his beard, feel his breath against her skin and even smell its minty freshness. And it’s sending her heart into a spiral. If only she could actually work up the guts to tell him the truth about how she feels. “So, do you mind me asking what happened?” Bucky asks as he checks her ankle, gently pressing against the tender skin. Each time he touches it, it sends shockwaves throughout her entire body.

“Well, let’s just say alcohol and high heels really aren’t the best combination. God, I knew it was a bad idea to wear those shoes. Especially when I’m so clumsy.”

“It’s alright. You’re not the first patient I’ve seen who needs a bit more practice with heels, and you definitely won’t be the last.” He reassures her, his words making her smile. A genuine smile, her first since she hurt her ankle. “If I’m hurting you, just say okay?” Actually, it doesn’t hurt. Or at least, not as much as she expected it to. Of course, part of it could be down to the shock, but she knows a larger part of it is because of how much care and tenderness Bucky is treating her with. She looks up, catching his eyes. Would telling him the truth be so bad after all? “I think you’re right. It’s starting to bruise, and it looks like a sprain. But I still want to take you to hospital to get you checked out and get an X-Ray, just in case.”

“Let me guess, the one I work in? God, my coworkers will never let me live it down.” Y/N groans as Bucky injects her with some pain meds.

“If anyone gives you trouble, just tell me, alright? I’ve got your back.” He winks, and Y/N’s stomach flutters again.

“My hero.” she giggles, and Bucky even bows for her. But Bucky is a hero, one who saves people day in and day out. Hopefully, he knows just how loved and appreciated he is. Of course, as a doctor, Y/N knows people would say the same about her too. Yet, she knows she doesn’t hold a candle to just how kind and caring Bucky is.

Throughout the ride to the hospital, Y/N begins to get sleepier as the meds begin to work. “Thanks Bucky. You know, I should get you a drink after this.” She mumbles, not expecting him to hear her. But when Bucky laughs and says,

“Okay, sure. I’d love that.” her blood chills. When she said before that she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole when Bucky first saw her in pain, she was wrong. This is when she wants the ground to swallow her whole. After that, she sits in silence for the rest of the ride, all the way til Bucky wheels her into the hospital. “Well, this is the end of the line.” He sighs, his tone causing Y/N to raise a brow. Maybe it’s just the drugs talking, but she swears Bucky is sad to see her go. “Now, promise me you’ll take care of yourself, alright? I don’t wanna see you here again anytime soon. At least… not on this side of things. We have to get you back here as soon as possible.”

“Thanks Bucky.” She smiles. “It’s just part of the job, right?” She chuckles. Yet, Bucky shakes his head.

“Not always. Sometimes it’s because you care about the person too.” But before Y/N can say anything, he’s gone, off to save the world again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I still cannot believe you got treated and brought in by the hot paramedic.” Y/N’s coworker gasps as she bandages her foot. “What did he say? What did you say?!”

“Nothing.” Y/N sighs. “I was in shock for most of it. Both literally and figuratively.”

“Well, at least you got to hang out with him outside work… sort of.” And now, she’s off work for a bit until her ankle heals, meaning she won’t see Bucky for a while. Just her fucking luck. But then, a knock sounds at the door, and her supervisor pops his head inside.

“This arrived for you, Y/N.” He says, passing over an envelope. Inside is a get well soon card. She knows who sent it to her before she even opens it.

“To Y/N. My favourite doctor. Or should I say my favourite patient? Don’t tell the others I said that. Honestly, though, I hope your ankle feels better soon. If you are serious about that drink, give me a call. Although maybe don’t bring your heels this time.” Bucky’s number is written underneath. Y/N stares at the letter, still unsure that it’s real. Maybe it’s even a hallucination caused by the meds. But, it’s still there. It’s still real.

And that means Bucky wants to see her. Immediately, her heart pounds, and her stomach flutters all over again.

“Oh, my god.” Her coworker gasps, peering over her shoulder to read the card. “Are you gonna call him?”

“Yeah…” Y/N smiles. “Yeah, I think I will.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #paramedic!bucky barnes #paramedic!bucky barnes x doctor!reader #marvel oneshot #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Connect4AU

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bucknastysbabe · 10 months ago

Note

I can have an aegon ii crying and whining (love to see that man cry) because he knows you're going to break up with him....

I hope this is alright, thanks for the request. Xoxo

Rating: Mature

Tags: TW//Alcohol abuse, addiction, verbal and emotional abuse, alcoholic/addict Aegon, codependency, description of DTs, break-up, man tears, modern!au, sorry I projected my alcoholism on this, man tears whiny pathetic babykins

A/N: Sorry Anon if I took some liberties, I felt this as a good reason for him to be crybaby. Alcoholic projection gets me ass sometimes

“No-nononono!,” Aegon cried from behind you.

You poured the last of his bottle out of the sink. The fucker had hidden the booze in your boots. Your boots. After boldly claiming he was sober, clean, and going to meetings. Alas, here you were again, Aegon whining and begging once again. Cycle of insanity as that blue book he owned said. Fat tears leaked from his wide orbs, lips trembling, face blotchy and red.

“You lied to me!,” you barked.

He tugged at his hair, big violet eyes fixated on that precious liquid going down the drain. Aegon whimpered, “Stop. Stop it! I’m sorry, I- I- I won’t do it anymore! I hid it for an emergency!” He sobbed as you placed the now empty bottle onto the counter.

This was on and off for what felt like the entirety of the relationship. It was fun at first— party Prince Aegon Targaryen. You two would go all night. You began to grow tired of the non-stop celebration. He’d keep going, snorting in the bathroom, taking something to sleep, leaving to hang out with the ‘bros’. Always had a reason to have something in his system.

You didn’t know if he had ever cheated. It felt he cheated on you with the bottle— ‘his baby’ he so fondly referred to alcohol one time. He had to take an extra semester only to land on academic probation. You graduated and got a job, got a place with Aegon. Upon moving in you expressed your feelings about his habits, the blonde apologizing and swearing he’d be on the straight and narrow.

Your stupid simple heart thought he would change, the little oath he made would settle Aeg some. He did at first, snuggling down for movies, grandiose gifts, and dinner for two with one cup of wine. Looking back on Aegon’s behavior he was too settled— a little hazy, forgetful, coming in and out of the world. Checking his bedside drawer that night explained the situation. Bars upon bars of Xanax in a bag. Something to quell the annoyance of being a real boyfriend.

That was a big fight. You ‘broke up’ with him on the spot. Aegon immediately burst into sobs, crying and promising to do better. No more pills. You believed him, again, the fucker even charmed you back into bed. ‘Making love’, holding hands as he filled you up, promising and apologizing. Sorry sorry sorry.

It’s about all he could muster anymore with you. Sorry.

You swallowed a sob and warbled, “You keep saying you’re going to change Aegon! It never happens! Here were are again, finding your little lies all over the place. You need help! Sorry doesn’t change shit baby. I’m done, I’m done with this. Do you even think about my feelings?”

He whined in distress, walking over and dropping to his knees. You let your sick baby cry into your stomach, arms wrapped tight around you. Sighing heavily you pet his white hair, nose wrinkling at the booze coming off his skin, the sink, everywhere.

He looked up with reddened eyes, pretty lips trembling as he begged, “You’ve got to help me, please, I can’t stop. I don’t want to lose you. Don’t leave me alone, I-I’m scared.” Every part of your body wanted to believe him. The trust had been long shattered like the bottle he threw at the wall one time— smashing it in a drunken rage.

“Why can’t you just piss off and let me do my thing? Fucking ball and chain!”

Aegon whined your name some more, gripping harder. He whimpered, “You won’t leave me right? Right my love?” You looked away and wiped a tear. He clung harder, sobbing, “No, please love, puh-please, no.” Wrenching free from the grip you shook your head. He tried to grab again, you stepping backward with a hand up.

“No Aegon. You need to seek help. For yourself, not me. I’m done. You’ve hurt me enough,” softening your tone you added, “Baby, you’re very very sick. You’ll die. Make a choice.”

He looked disgustingly sad and pathetic on his knees, hands wrenching at whatever was available. Aegon’s brow furrowed as he hissed, “So you’re like the rest— just leaving me.” You sighed in pity, running a hand over your brow. This was getting harder by the second, the damn man wearing you down to a nub.

“No Aegon. You made them leave. Pushed all of us away on your pursuit for, for, whatever you’re seeking inside.”

He warbled, “Don’t say that.”

“Just go look in the mirror. Call your mother.”

You stepped out of the wretched apartment, Aegon’s wailing filling your ears. ‘Don’t leave me!’ You’d break down later. It felt like a gaping wound settled in your chest. You idly wondered if Aegon felt like that— needing to fill the pocket with anything that didn’t make the blonde feel like himself.

Aegon stared in the mirror, puking after a short gaze. He hated what stared back at him. Hated everything really. Now he had nothing to suck on to take the pain away. No baby to coddle him, his baby, who he used and abused like everything else. Aegon sniffled and wiped his mouth. Leaning on the wall in front of the toilet he dialed his mother's number. Straight to voicemail.

“Hey Mom. I need help. Like, put me somewhere help.”

He frowned at how worn down and whiny his voice sounded. Whatever. What did he have left anyway? A future? Maybe. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling the inevitable shakes begin. There might be a hidden spot up in the fake fireplace. The prince would get it when he’d start shaking enough to lose the ability to walk.

#hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #modern!aegon targaryen #modern!au #read the tw and tags #aegon ii angst #aegon ii targaryen x reader #ask answered

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hazelchooseme · 1 year ago

Text

Spider-Woman | Hazell Callahan

Note: okay so I pulled this out of my ass last night at 1 in the morning to finish at 5 in the morning (yes, I'm dying now) so any mistakes forgive me.

English is not my first lenguaje

Song recommendation: Devil Is a Woman by Cloudy June.

Enjoy 🕸️

You looked back at Hazel for what seemed like the thirtieth time this hour, but no one could blame you, not when she looked so pretty with her cheeks pink from laughter, messy hair from always playing with it without realizing it, with bright eyes that wrinkled in the corner every time she laughed. Yes, no one could blame you.

When the credits of Mean Girl began to appear on the screen Hazel turned her head resting on the couch towards you.

"I have to go." She said with a small pout.

"Finally, you were taking too long." You joked with fake tiredness.

With a fake crying sound she threw herself on top of you, her right arm resting on your waist while her head rested on your chest so that her hair tickled your nose.

"Get off me." You said making no effort at all to move her and enjoy the smell of her brown locks.

She lifted her head, resting her chin near your collarbones, leaving her mouth dangerously close to yours.

"Why? I'm quite comfortable." Her breath tickled your corners and her hand on your waist seemed to be playing with the hem of your shirt.

This had been happening for a while, it seemed like Hazel was testing you, playing something you didn't understand very well. She had become too comfortable in your personal space, always finding a way to touch you or be close to your lips. In class she would lean over moving your hair and whisper something to you that you definitely didn't understand since you were too focused on the tickle of her breath on your ear or her kisses on the cheek that seemed to get closer and closer to your lips.

Or maybe not and you were imagining everything, Isabel was also shy at first with you and ended up jumping on you for everything and kissed your head every time you acted "cute" according to her, either way it was driving you crazy.

Maintaining eye contact you could swear under oath that you could live in those perfect blue pools, pools that moved scanning your face, not being stupid, you started doing the same. Her lips were a little dry with some small wounds since she had a silly habit of biting them (which, obviously, didn't affect you at all) you were sure that under yours they would feel a little scratchy, a few strands of hair framed her face giving it an almost unreal touch of perfection, her cheeks were still red, you wondered if they would be warm under your touch, and as always you ended up drowning in her blue eyes, the fact that you could look at them from so close felt like a privilege and a sin. You involuntarily moved your head as you took a big gulp of air pushing Hazel's chin with yours, with a half smile she blew into your face making you close your eyes.

"You lost." She said as you felt the weight of her body leave yours, you started to feel cold almost immediately.

"I really need to go love, I have to finish some work, I'll let you know when I get there." As you had not yet straightened up in the chair, she rested her right hand on the furniture next to your head and with her right hand she cupped your chin gently lifted it, leaving a kiss practically on the edge of your lip. With one last wink she finally walked out of your house.

When you could breathe again you sat up straight still dizzy from all the sensations in your body. In those minutes of silence you noticed two things.

1: This was completely different than with Isabel.

2: Did she just call you love?

"Holy shit." Isabel shouted through the cell phone speaker after you explained to her what had happened. "Since when does Hazel have so much rizz? Last Friday I saw her crash into the same door three times."

"Don't know." You expressed with frustration. It was around 10 PM, you were in your pajamas taking off your makeup on the dresser, usually you would be listening to some song but this was more important. "There are times when she has these confidence boosts where she knows she's hot and uses it to her advantage, I don't know what to do."

"But are you crazy? Eat her mouth obviously."

Of course you had considered it but every time you intended to do it there was a little voice in the back of your head calling you ridiculous, why would someone like Hazel want someone like you to kiss her? That was simply stronger than you, so you bit your tongue and moved on with your life.

"Nah ah, get those thoughts out of your head, you're beautiful and completely worth it." Isabel scolded you as if she were reading your mind.

"You're my best friend." You said as if that mattered anything.

"And that's why I'll lie every time I have to to save your ass, but not with this and you know it." You could imagine her look of determination through her voice. "Next time you look hedeous I'll tell you so you'll believe me."

"Thank you, I know I can always count on you." You said sarcastically although you actually mean it.

You hung up after an hour to finally be able to rest, if you were lucky you would dream of a place where Hazel did love you.

What a depressing shit.

With the light off you settled between the sheets and blankets, the night was quite cold so you had your entire head covered muffling the cold and sound, but it wasn't enough since you could clearly hear someone opening your window. You paralyzed almost immediately. Your cell phone was charging on your dresser on the other side of the room, you always left it there so you had to get up and turn it off so you could wake up. At this moment you regretted it so much, stupid internet tricks.

Before you could even think about what to do or how to hit someone, a whisper echoed throughout the room.

"It's me... Are you awake? If you weren't and I just woke you up, sorry."

"What the fuck, Hazel!" You said loudly as you sat up removing the covers from your head.

"Sorry, I still don't handle this thing about raiding private property very well."

"You almost killed me." You reached out to turn on your lamp but Hazel whispered a loud "No" stopping you in the middle of the action. "Why not? And why are you whispering? I told you that mom is not here tonight."

"Ah... It doesn't matter, before you turn it on I need you to promise me that you won't scream, pass out or vomit, you know I'm sensitive to the smell."

"What? Why? Are you okay, did something bad happen?" You couldn't help but ask with concern.

"Just promise me, please."

Her tone that dripped with desperation made you agree quickly.

"Okay, I won't do or say anything." Paying attention you could see with the reflection of the moon how she nodded her head, you also noticed how it seemed that she was holding her left rib with her right hand, weird.

Feeling nervous you pressed the switch, the room filled with an orange color finally revealing Hazel, but it wasn't Hazel, or well, yes it was but it wasn't her dressed as Hazel, she was dressed as Spiderwoman with a suit full of blood and cuts.

Your mouth hung open as your hands covered it, a strangled sound coming from your chest.

"You said you weren't going to scream, please don't scream, I give you permission to faint." Hazel pleaded with her hands up.

"I, no, no, I wasn't going to, mmmh, no I wasn't... I wasn't, no." Perfect, Hazel had broken you.

The more you continued to examine her the more worry bubbled up inside you, when you came out of the trance you noticed the red liquid covering her left side, you jumped up and walked towards her.

"You're..."

"Spiderwoman, I know let me explain—"

"Bleeding a lot, what the hell happened?!"

"What?" She asked puzzled.

Being close to her you took her face in your hands analyzing it, she had a cut on one of her eyebrows and another on her right cheekbone, her lip was covered in dried blood as was much of her nose.

"Shit Hazel you look." Hot. "Hurt, let me help you."

"I just told you that I'm Spiderwoman, aren't you going to say anything else?" Her incredulous expression was quite funny.

"I'm going to say that I'm going to fuck the shit out of you if you don't listen to me and take off your clothes."

She looked at you in silence for 5 seconds. "Not the kind of help I need but I'll take it."

"Hazel!"

"Okay, okay, sorry."

Running around the house you began to gather anything that could be useful, you wet towels, you found ethyl alcohol and in your mother's room you found some pain pills and a bandage.

You returned to the room to find Hazel in the exact same position as when you left. "Hazel, what did I tell you about undressing?" You scolded her with your arms full of things.

"Sorry, the button that opens it broke and the closure is behind, I can't reach it." She defended herself quickly.

"Ah, okay, sorry, let me." Leaving the things on the bed, you approached her, in an undisguised way you wiped your palms against your pants and went around her, right where she had told you the zipper was.

"It might hurt a little because it's a pretty... Tight suit." You warned with your eyes lowered.

"You're looking at my ass?"

"What the fuck, obviously not." Obviously yes.

With your palms that were sweaty again, you pushed her somewhat tangled hair to the side and began to unzip her. Her cream skin with a few moles began to show and swallowing hard you looked away after seeing her purple bra, when your hand reached her lower back you jumped back.

"Ready."

Clearing her throat as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other she spoke. "Can you help me... Take it off. It's kind of hard if I do it alone."

"Ah, yes, of course."

You surrounded her again to now end up in front of her, without daring to look her in the eyes you began to help her slide her left arm through the sleeve, you took her elbow to finish sliding it out of the material, then you moved to the other. You could feel Hazel's gaze burning your face and you were sure she could see your deep blush, when the other arm began to move you quickly moved your eyes before seeing something that Hazel had not agreed upon. Luckily for you, your eyes ended up in those blue pools that looked at you with an intensity that stole your breath. Holding her wrist to remove it from your sleeve, you let out a small sigh, but even though you had finished you couldn't stop looking at her, it was hypnotizing and it didn't help that the secret that you had just discovered made her hotter. When Hazel clung a little towards you, you came out of the trance, your friend was bleeding to death, please concentrate.

"Sit... Um, sit on the bed, please."

Obediently following your instructions, you walked over to where you had left your supplements, with a wet towel in hand you approached her without daring to lower your gaze.

"Hazel, I'm going to have to... You know, if it makes you uncomfortable you can do it and I'll turn around." You suggested nervously.

A sweet laugh escaped her lips. "Hey, if it's you then it's more than fine."

Kneeling in front of her you began to clean a large cut that covered most of her torso, you focused your gaze only on that so as not to be disrespectful but, my god, you were very homosexual.

"I'm going to pour alcohol on you and that's going to fucking hurt so suck it up and forgive me."

You took the white bottle and wet one end of the towel, you inhaled as if it were going to hurt you and in the gentlest way you could, you began to give small touches to the wound, Hazel complained a little but nothing too exaggerated.

When you thought that was enough you fell back on your butt exhaling.

"God, I almost died."

"Yes, it must have hurt you a lot." Hazel mocked you. You looked into her eyes while you scolded her, but it didn't last long, from that position she looked illegal, you didn't know how to express it in other words. Without being able to stop, you began to look at her body, there were small cuts in the chest and stomach area but they looked as if they were already healing.

"I can put the bandage on." Hazel warned you, smiling sideways. Embarrassed that you had been too obvious, you jumped up and turned your back on her, searching for something in your closet.

"Here, this is yours, The other day you left it here." You said showing an oversized light green t-shirt.

"When?" She asked confused.

"Like two years ago."

"Aaah, yeah, the other day." She scoffed again.

With her laughter in the background you turned around to go soak the towel, those blood stains were going to be difficult to explain. When you returned Hazel was finishing adjusting her shirt over her shoulders.

"Thank you, I feel much better." You would do anything for that smile.

"I'm not done yet, let me clean your face."

The fact that she was now fully dressed helped calm your nerves, you dipped some cotton pads in alcohol and turned to her.

Before you could say anything she interrupted you. "It's going to hurt, I know, I trust you."

With a sigh you moved closer, grabbing her chin delicately, you began to clean the wound on her eyebrow and cheekbone, occasionally changing the cotton pads to do a more hygienic cleaning and it gave you time to breathe and try to control your shaking hands.

"I'll wipe your lip and finish." You talked just for the sake of talking, with a small sound of affirmation Hazel clung a little closer to you. At this point it was easier if she sat on top of you, you thought.

With a new cotton ball, you began to clean her lips. They were still as dry as they were a few hours ago, Apart from a few small cuts everything looked good, the fact that you had all your concentration on her mouth did not help in being able to breathe normally and on top of that, her scrutinizing you with her eyes made you want to send everything to hell and just "eat her mouth" as Isabel had said.

Now, really finishing, you dried your fingers with the towel and turned to see Hazel.

"There, it's as if nothing happened."

She simply nodded as her gaze moved from your eyes to your lips. "Amm, your wounds, they heal quickly."

She still didn't respond. "That's pretty good, I mean timely, since you probably get a lot of wounds and they must hurt, speaking of pain, I brought you some pills to take—."

Hazel's hand on your neck immediately silenced you, causing you to drop the medications you had picked up, her eyes searched yours and with a silent question you nodded before finally pressing her open mouth against yours.

The reaction was immediate, your whole body heated up, your heart began to beat so hard that you could feel your blood flowing throughout your body, your ears began to ring and your hands moved to her waist, squeezing carefully. Whimpering into her mouth as you opened it allowing entry, her tongue caressing the corner of your mouth that she had kissed so much to finally begin to explore and taste you. The sound that came out of your mouth made you feel embarrassed but it seemed to excite Hazel as her hand that was resting on the bed moved up to your thigh where she began to squeeze, you took her hand and put it inside your shirt, allowing her to explore wherever she wanted. Your hands didn't seem to be able to stay still either as you pulled her hair, eliciting exquisite moans that you savored on her tongue. Hazel pulls you closer, delighting in the way she explored your body. When you finally separate, you are both breathless and blushing with your heart beating erratically with the excitement and desperation of a new kiss.

"Holy shit." Was the only thing Hazel could say between gulps of air.

You wanted to say something back but your head was so foggy, you could only think about her hand on your bare back and her moans were repeated on a loop in your ears, and you thought she couldn't make a more attractive sound than her laugh. Her fingers ran the width of your back in a way that made you tingle. Lowering your hands you came across the material of her suit.

"Don't think I forgot that you kept Spiderwoman from me." You reminded her, playing with the zipper.

"Yes, I have been very bad, punish me."

Laughing, she placed her mouth on yours again in a calmer way and really enjoying the moment.

You had finally eaten her mouth, Isabel would be proud.

#hazel callahan #ruby cruz #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel x reader #lesbian #sapphic #wlw #fanfic

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