#the kingdom catching in flames of one's rage:

[madrcams]

Mado just reading a book with earphones on to filter noise. Everyone else is either going feral in flaming rage or fleeing from those. Metaphorically the world is exploding. She removes one earphone off.

“ What? ”

[novaursa]

The Gods Are Cruel (and so is he)

- Summary: Maegor always thought of you. Even when you were convinced he had forgotten you.

- Paring: niece!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Note: This story captures Maegor's inner struggle and events before Fire and Blood.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

For as long as Maegor can remember, you have been the one thing denied to him. He’s conquered kingdoms, brought men to their knees, and ruled with the iron will of a dragon. But he cannot have you. His own father, King Aegon, forbade it. “She’s your niece, Maegor. There are limits, even for us.” As if the blood of the dragon were not meant to twist and coil upon itself, strengthening the line.

You’re the second-born daughter of Aenys, the weakling king who, even now, sits the Iron Throne in pitiful splendor. His half-brother’s mewling reign grates on Maegor’s nerves, but it’s the distance between you that fuels his rage. You’re imprisoned on Dragonstone, hidden away like a relic too precious to behold. And for what? To preserve your innocence? To keep you untouched by his flame?

His hand tightens around Blackfyre’s hilt as he recalls the way you looked at him, the first time your eyes truly met. You were but a girl then, your hair falling in soft waves of silver down your back, your eyes wide with awe and fear. A look that has haunted him ever since, seeping into his dreams, twisting his desires into something darker, more dangerous. He dreams of you, night after night, your body beneath his, your mouth forming his name like a prayer. You, the one thing he cannot have, the one thing he would raze cities to possess.

And yet, you are kept from him. Aenys has you guarded like a treasure, a pawn in his political games. The gods themselves conspire against him, placing you always just out of reach. He has seen you only in glimpses now, from across the court or from the back of his dragon, Balerion, circling above Dragonstone like an unholy sentinel.

What do you think of him? He wonders, in the quiet of his chambers, when even the echoes of war fall silent. Do you fear him, as the rest do? Or do you feel it too—the pull between you, the force that binds your fates as surely as dragonfire and blood?

His first wife, Ceryse, lies cold and untouched in his bed, her barren womb a constant reminder of the child he was never meant to sire with her. He took her as duty demanded, but his heart—and his loins—have always belonged to you. A woman he could mold, could teach, could keep. In his darkest thoughts, he imagines how your skin would feel under his hands, how your breath would catch as he whispered your name. Y/N.

Does your heart beat faster when you think of him? Do you lie awake at night, wondering if he’s thinking of you, too? You must. You have to. Because if you don’t, what is left for him? What can satiate this unquenchable thirst that rages through him, consuming him like wildfire?

The gods mock him with every breath you take beyond his reach. They have shackled him to a woman who cannot bear him heirs, as if to deny him the legacy he was born to create. They have put you on Dragonstone, behind walls and guards and duty, as if they think any of that could hold him back forever. But he will have you. His father’s wishes, Aenys’ weakness, the gods themselves—none of it matters. You belong to him.

In his mind, he sees the two of you, alone in the Dragonmont, the heat of the beasts around you only heightening the fever that pulses through his veins. He would take you there, make you his in every way, his hands on your skin, your nails in his back. The thought is almost unbearable in its intensity. But it is only a dream, a hollow mockery of what he craves.

He remembers the song you played once, in the Red Keep, your fingers dancing over the strings of a harp. It was a haunting melody, something about love and death entwined, the lyrics slipping from your lips like smoke. It was not for him—you hadn’t even known he was there—but he felt the words like a dagger in his chest. The horror of his love. A love that destroys, that devours. And yet, he would have it no other way.

You are the one thing that could calm his rage, and the one thing that stokes it to an inferno. He could burn the world for you, if it meant seeing you by his side, wearing his crown, carrying his children. He would destroy anyone who stands in his way, even the gods themselves. Because you are his, and he is yours, no matter how high the walls they build between you.

The gods are cruel. But so is he. And he is patient. For now.

But not forever.

Exile is a bitter draught, and Maegor tastes its poison on his tongue every day. Here, across the Narrow Sea, he is surrounded by false smiles and sharper knives, an unwelcome guest in a land that does not know the fire of dragons. He is supposed to be broken, he thinks. This was Aenys' intent—to crush his spirit, to strip him of power and keep him from you. It should have worked.

But Maegor is not so easily broken.

Every day he is here, he feels you slipping further away, like water through his fingers. Every day, the distance grows, a chasm that he fears even a dragon’s wings could not cross. You must think him weak now, to have been cast aside, to have failed in taking what is rightfully his. Do you believe the stories? That he is a monster, a madman, unworthy of the blood in his veins?

He paces the halls of this foreign stronghold, his mind churning with thoughts of you, of the night they took you from him. He had almost had you, his hand outstretched, your name a growl on his lips, when Aenys’ guards pulled you away, your eyes wide with something he cannot name. Fear? Betrayal? Desire?

Aenys had raged at him, his voice trembling with a fury Maegor had never thought his spineless brother capable of. “You will not touch her! Do you hear me, brother? I will not let you taint her with your madness!” As if your purity were some fragile thing, as if you were not a dragon yourself, with fire in your blood.

His exile was swift, the king’s command carried out by his lapdog lords who dared not look Maegor in the eye as they escorted him to the ship, bound for a land that does not know him. Aenys spoke of protecting you, of preserving the fragile peace between the Crown and the Faith. He was terrified of another rebellion, afraid that Maegor’s obsession with you would shatter what little stability he had managed to cling to. The Faith would rise against such a union, scream of abomination and blasphemy, and the weak-willed sheep of Westeros would follow.

And so, Maegor was sent away like a common criminal, the dragon without his fire, the beast without his prey.

But what they do not understand, what even you perhaps cannot see, is that this does not break him. No, this only feeds the flames, stokes the hunger that gnaws at him day and night. In his solitude, he thinks of you, of the way your lips parted when you spoke his name, the tremor in your voice as you told him to stop. And beneath that tremor, beneath the fear, he heard something else—something that made his blood burn and his pulse quicken.

You want him. He knows it, has seen it in your eyes, in the way you cannot help but look at him when you think no one is watching. It is a look he has seen before, in women who knew the danger of wanting a man like him, who knew the risk and were drawn to it all the same. But you—you are not like them. You are his niece, his kin, and that only makes the desire more potent, more twisted.

It is as if the gods themselves crafted you to tempt him, to drive him to madness. They dangle you before him, a prize he cannot claim, and laugh as he claws at the edges of sanity, his mind unraveling with every thought of you. Y/N, the name a whisper on his lips as he dreams, a curse and a prayer all at once. He imagines you as you must be now, cloistered away on Dragonstone, your beauty kept hidden from the world, your spirit shackled by duty and fear.

What do you think of him now, your would-be captor, your would-be king? Do you despise him for his failure, for letting them take him from you? Or do you still dream of him, as he dreams of you, your hands reaching out in the darkness, your voice calling him back across the sea? He would come for you, if he could. He would set fire to this whole wretched land if it meant seeing you again, holding you, tasting the lips that have haunted him for so long.

But no, he is here, caged by exile, by duty, by the very blood that runs through his veins. Aenys thinks this will keep him at bay, that distance and shame will cool his fire. A fool’s hope. Every night, Maegor’s dreams grow darker, his thoughts more twisted, until he no longer knows where desire ends and madness begins.

He thinks of what he would do, if you were here now. How he would take you in his arms, heedless of your protests, your pleas. You would fight him, at first—he knows you would. But he would not stop. He would crush every barrier, break every rule that the world has placed between you, until there is nothing left but the two of you, entwined in a knot of blood and fire and desire. He would teach you what it means to be his, to be bound to him in a way that no one, not Aenys, not the gods themselves, could sever.

And would you love him, then? Would you finally see him for what he is, for what he could be to you? Or would you still fear him, still see him as the monster they have all made him out to be? It does not matter, he tells himself. Love, hate—they are two sides of the same coin, both burning with the same intensity. And he would have either, or both, if it meant having you.

He will not stay here forever. This exile is a cage of straw, and he is a dragon. One day, he will break free, and when he does, he will come for you. No more half-measures, no more hesitant glances and whispered promises. He will take you, as he was meant to, as he was born to. And if the world burns for it, so be it.

The gods think they can keep him from you. But he will show them the folly of trying to chain a dragon. And when he does, he will take back what is his, with fire and blood.

The wine in Pentos is bitter and thin, a poor substitute for the strong, dark vintages of home. Maegor swirls the goblet, his gaze unfocused, the liquid rippling like the storm inside him. He’s been here for what feels like years, a dragon caged, his wings clipped. Exile is a wound that festers, seeping poison into his thoughts, breeding resentment, rage—and longing. Always longing.

He imagines you on Dragonstone, your days spent looking out over the sea, wondering if he’s forgotten you. Do you think him weak for not returning, for letting Aenys and his lapdogs banish him so easily? The thought of your disappointment, your disdain, cuts deeper than any blade. He should be there, should have fought harder, should have…

The door to his chambers bursts open, and his hand flies to Blackfyre’s hilt, the dark thoughts scattering like smoke. But it is no assassin or enemy lord. It is Visenya, his mother, sweeping in like a tempest, her eyes alight with a fire he hasn’t seen in years. For a moment, he thinks he is dreaming. Visenya, the indomitable, the iron queen who shaped him, forged him in the heat of her will and her ambition. The only one who has ever understood him, who has ever truly known him.

“Mother,” he breathes, his voice rough from disuse.

She crosses the room in a few swift steps, her presence as commanding as ever. There is no preamble, no softening of the words that follow. “Aenys is dead.”

The goblet slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor, the wine spilling in a dark pool at his feet. Dead. The weakling king, the half-brother who took everything from him, who caged him in this foreign land and kept you locked away. Dead.

“How?” he asks, his voice a low growl, his mind reeling. This changes everything. The iron bonds of exile shatter in an instant, and all the bitterness, all the rage that has been festering in his heart explodes like wildfire.

“His own weakness killed him,” Visenya says, her lip curling in disdain. “The Faith rose against him, the realm crumbled around him, and he could not hold it together. He was never fit to rule. He left the Seven Kingdoms in chaos.”

And you. What did he leave you with? A kingdom in ruins, a throne contested, and you still locked away, still untouched, still denied to him. Maegor’s blood boils at the thought of it, at the thought of you alone on that bleak island, your beauty hidden from the world, your spirit shackled by a man too weak to protect what was his.

“He is gone,” Visenya continues, her voice hard as steel. “The throne is yours, Maegor. But you must act. The lords will not sit idle; they will scheme and plot and raise their banners for Aenys’ wretched brood. You must return, and you must take what is rightfully yours.”

The throne. The Iron Throne, forged by fire and blood, by the will of their house. But more than that—more than crowns and kingdoms and power—there is you. The promise of you, the dream that has tormented him in the long, empty nights of exile. He sees it all, now, with a clarity that almost blinds him. Aenys is dead, the gods have finally relented, and the path to you is clear.

He rises from his chair, his eyes fixed on Visenya’s face. “And her?” He does not need to speak your name; they both know who he means.

Visenya’s eyes gleam, a predatory smile curling her lips. “You will have her, as it should have been from the start. She is your right, your reward. No one will keep her from you now, not the Faith, not the lords, not even the gods. You will take the throne, and you will take her.”

The words are like a balm, soothing the raw wound of exile, of longing. He sees it now, the vision of what could be, what will be: you, by his side, crowned in Valyrian steel and dragon’s flame, the blood of your enemies soaking the earth at your feet. His queen. His wife. The one thing denied to him, now within his grasp.

Aenys is dead, and with him, the last barrier between Maegor and the life he was meant to have. He will return, he will seize the throne, and he will take you. The thought of it fills him with a fierce, terrible joy. He imagines the look on your face when he storms Dragonstone, when he bursts into your chambers, his eyes wild with the need that has driven him mad for so long. You will fight him, at first, as you must. But he will not be denied. He will make you see, make you understand that you were always his, from the moment you were born.

He thinks of the song you played that day in the Red Keep, the haunting melody that still echoes in his mind. There is horror in our love, the words sang, and yes, there is. There is darkness, and fire, and blood. But there is also something deeper, something that binds you to him in ways you cannot yet fathom. He will show you, when you are his, what it means to love a dragon, to be consumed by the flame and not be burned.

He looks at Visenya, his heart hammering in his chest. “We go to Westeros. We take the throne, and I take her.”

She nods, the fierce pride in her eyes a reflection of his own. “Yes, my son. You will have it all.”

The gods have relented, have finally turned their faces from him and given him what he has craved for so long. The throne, the power, and you. His beautiful, stubborn, untouchable Y/N. No more dreams, no more whispered prayers to uncaring gods. This is destiny, and it will not be denied.

He is coming for you, and nothing—not lords, not priests, not the very heavens themselves—will stop him. You will be his, as you were always meant to be. And if there is horror in it, then let there be horror. Let the world tremble before the fire of his love.

Because he is Maegor, son of Visenya, true heir of Aegon the Conqueror. And he will have what is his.

[luimagines]

Wild Card! Pick something on the need to write list ideas you might have!

You know what? I'm writing Part Two of Dragon! King! Time and no one can stop me. >:D

I'm writing this for me!!!

Masterlist

Part one

Content under the cut!

"Where are they?" A deep growl shakes the entirely of the castle. "WHERE ARE THEY?!"

"Your Majesty, please calm down before you destroy the castle." Warrior bite his lips, not at all excited for the conversation he is about to have.

"They are supposed to come every two weeks." The kings growls incessantly. "If I had marked them by now, I would at least have a hint at what happened to them. Are you sure they haven't showed up at the apartment?"

"Positive, sir." Warrior begins to feel a little sick to his stomach, and it's not because of the residue magic that's being leaked into the air by the Ancient King himself. "All the gifts you've had me drop off are... untouched."

"It's been over a month! Almost two! And not a single note or announcement-!"

"They're not home." Warrior stresses. "They-"

The king catches the slip up. His dietic magic flares through the atmosphere, setting all dragons in a 300 miles radius on edge. "Captain, are you aware of their whereabouts?"

"...Your Majesty, I beseech you to sit down first." Warrior growls, feeling his own magic begin to rise to the surface. Little puff of flame escape his mouth despite his best efforts. He knows he would never win in a fire against the King. He is the king for a reason. But that doesn't mean he's still not capable of dealing a lot of collateral damage in the process.

King Link of Kokiri Kingdom growls up a storm, cracking the windows of the throne room before begrudgingly sitting on his throne. "Proceed." 'With caution', need not be mentioned. "Where are they?"

Warrior steels his nerve, setting his palms on fire to lessen the magic build up in his body. "The hospital."

The glass windows explode from the magical flare. All objects lift off of the floor by three feet, Warrior included. And the King has shifted into his full dragon form, taking up the majority of the space in the room due to his massive size and power.

Warrior is dropped non to gently and wastes no time shifting to his full dragon form as well, breathing the hottest wall of fire he can to get the King's attention off of raging towards the nearest hospital. He chars the floor and tapestries on the process, but this is more important.

"You can't go!"

"watch me."

"You aren't supposed to reveal her identify to the public!" Warrior reminds him. "She works undercover for a start and we knew this work could potentially injure them."

"which hospital, captain?" The King hardly looks at him and very seriously begin to gauge which wall the castle needs the least. "i'm going to claim what's mine and never let anything else threaten them."

Warrior curses the instinctual possessiveness of dragons. It never seems to end well once a human gets involved. "You cannot barge in there like a raging bull in a china shop! You'll destroy any trust they have in you. They've just started getting comfortable in your presence."

That seems to calm down the king somewhat. Time growls but manages to contain his magic at once. "....i'd frighten them."

"Exactly." Warrior doesn't allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief just yet. But this is progress.

A very long and pregnant pause settles over the throne room. In a flash of light, the King returns to his half form, growling up a storm and not at all aware of the damage to the castle. "Blast it all!"

Warrior shifts to his human form and brushes off his uniform. He's aware that the people of the castle have been talking about the King's upsets. It wasn't so bad when you had missed the first visit. He was marginally upset, but understanding, expecting a message at some point to explain why you hadn't shown up. Two weeks later, with no correspondence, you missed the second one and King Time had all but sent out a search party for you.

By the third, he was about to go mad with drive to find you.

The kingdom has never seen their cool and collected leader in such a state. Many believe that you (despite not knowing much about you as a whole) have bewitched the King and had one of the most beings in the world in the palm of your hand.

Which... isn't entirely wrong, Warrior admits. But what they didn't know is that you would rather have anything else and are constantly rejecting the King's attempts to court you discreetly.

It hasn't stopped the King, mind you, hence the gifts, but Warrior has never seen a man more head over heels for the most oblivious person.

The King has yet to stop growling but he has calmed himself down to once again look at Warrior in the eye. "...What's their condition? How long have they been there?"

Warrior sighs. That's confidential information. But... he wouldn't have the position he has if he wasn't the best at his job. "They were checked into the emergency room two days after your last meeting with them. Emergency surgery was instantly approved and they have been in the hospital for the past month. I... believe that they should have been approved to return home about a three days ago, should my calculations be correct."

Magic flares up once more as the king's rage turns against Warrior. It is a frightening sight.

"YOU KNEW!?"

Warrior holds a hand up, ignoring how everything fiber in his being is raised by the shackles. "Because I knew that you would want to smother them all the same once I continue this report. If you would allow me to do so."

Magic continues to pulse through the air but the King hasn't returned to his full dragon form, so Warrior has hope. However, the King's growls shake Warrior to his core despite his grade A acting skills. "Proceed."

Warrior gulps. "They... were critically wounded, presumably on the job. I kept this information to this day to buy them time to both return home and heal."

"what wounded them?"

Warrior hesitates.

"captain link."

"Bullets, sir. They had three bullet wounds."

A ferocious roar shakes the shattered windows from their frames, raining the glass to the cracked floor below.

"WHO?!"

"I don't know..." Warrior admits softly. "We'll have to ask them when they return..."

Because you will return, right? To them? To King Link?

You were so full of life and spunk. There was no way that this would have kept you down for long. You were critical, yes, but even Warrior managed to garner that you would have a miraculous recovery. Warrior is willing to bet it was due to the King's residue magic of his claim. It is quite potent.

Time manages to make his way back to his throne and all but collapses into it. His hands are shaking. "....For all that is good and holy...."

Warrior finally swallows the thick cotton in his mouth. It's difficult. "Your majesty... We must allow them to come back on their own terms. I'm sure they will explain everything."

Time shakes his head. "I've... never felt strongly over another before. All those employed under my kingdom and certainly under my castle are mine... but they... I want them here. I want them safe. I want them to... I just want them near me. I want to mark them. It's getting harder and harder to keep myself in check."

"I can see that, sir." Warrior jokes flatly. Now is not the time. "We all can see that. With the exception of them."

"And they don't even accept the help I'm offering to their face!" Time laments. "The last time was infuriating! You heard it! Some upstairs neighbor- Some secret admirer! It's been me! But I can't say anything and I'm forced to keep my affections to myself."

Warrior bites his tongue and lets the King take the needed breather after nearly destroying the castle from the inside out.

"Tell me honestly, Link, how helpless am I?"

"Yes."

A beat passes and Time sighs, giving his long time friend a small smile. "Where I would be without you, Captain?"

"Destroying the one shot you have to genuine romance, your majesty." Warrior smiles gently in return.

Time bite his lip, discreetly pinching the bridge of his nose to wipe the tears. "Do you think they'll keep the schedule? If nothing had happened they would be due to visit in the next three days."

"I'm not sure, your majesty." Warrior says kindly. "But we can always hope and try to look after them from afar."

Those three days couldn't have passed fast enough.

King Time paced through the throne room with his tail lashing out wildly, unable to calm himself down enough to take a sit and be patient about this.

Warrior feared he would forget how to be gentle if the moment came to it. There was still work to be done, and reconstruction hadn't finished on the throne room when the appointment arrived but the workers were shooed away for the time being as the King waited.

Just when the King was about to give up and call it day to scheme his new plan to care for you, the clock struck the late hour.

And you came.

[creatorbiaze]

Reincarnations Begin

includes; death, violence.

Eclipse knew that the mystery god was trouble. She always knew.

She had tried to gather more power in order to overpower Sine Nomine, knowing the other god was more powerful than Eclipse could ever hope to be. She didn't know how she knows, but she did. Perhaps that odd spirit.. Zenza? had told her. She couldn't remember.

Now, she knew for certain, as the fires raged around her, burning through the supports of the houses and buildings that had been in progress. Eclipse didn't care about the flames, running through without a thought. She didn't even notice the edges of her cape getting singed, or the fire licking at her scaly skin.

 Sine Nomine... Sancto de Iacet... damned by the Ancients! I should have acted sooner, now this... stars-forsaken enigma god, why'd Mother let you in, Eclipse mentally cursed Sine, teeth gritted and determined emerald gaze fixed ahead. She knew Sine was in the Castle, she just had to get there quickly. Flying would be so much quicker! Dammed wings, why couldn't you be normal ..! 

The town was quiet other than the crackling flames as Eclipse ran, dodging burning debris. The Pantheon had evacuated everyone they could before returning to keep Sine at bay, and Eclipse had to join them, fast! Soon, she got to the steps of the castle, and slowed to catch her breath. She didn't stop moving, though, she knew that'd cost too much. She kept moving at a brisk pace, panting slightly as she moved through the halls of the castle to the throne room.

The sounds of conflict reached her ears, and Eclipse started running again, summoning her sword as she burst into the throne room. Too late, too late too late too late! I knew it! Dammed by the stars and cursed by the Ancients!

Sine Nomine was fighting a heavily injured Incaendium, blood dripping from deep injuries on their neck and arms. Incaendium's purple eyes were bright with fury as she fought strongly despite their near-fatal wounds, and undoubtable exhaustion. Her long crimson hair was matted and dark with blood, one of her horns cracked and nearly broken.

Sine themself was nearly unscathed, the only injuries being cuts on their arms and wings, and was fighting tirelessly. It was clear the fire and chaos god would lose.

Gelu lay unmoving near the wall, their icy daggers inches away from their outstretched hand, starting to melt. They weren't dead quite yet, their sides rapidly rising and falling with quick and shallow breaths, but the rapidly pooling blood said that they would be soon. Their eyes were closed, and their normally well-taken care of soft white-and-teal hair was crimson with blood.

Finem was leaning on a wall, glaring at Sine Nomine, holding his side. He was too wounded to fight, yet he still tried... It was clear that even he, probably one of the most powerful and definitely most determined Deity, wouldn't have the energy to keep going much longer.

Eclipse was furious at the state of her beloved friends and Kingdom. She lunged at Sine Nomine, hissing. Her eyes glowed with power and anger, misshapen wings spread. the air itself crackled with the god's power as she summons her sword.

"You will pay for what you've done, traitor!" Eclipse yelled, slashing at Sine with all her might. Black energy followed the blade in its path, before it suddenly dispersed as Sine blocked the strike with their daggers, the metal-on-metal clanging loudly. Eclipse winced, glaring into Sine Nomine's blue and purple heterochromatic eyes. She'd always hated those eyes.

Sine Nomine smiled slightly, kicking Eclipse in the stomach and swiftly taking the sword from her, stabbing Incaendium through the heart without even looking at her. Incaendium crumpled to the ground as Sine focused on their new target, never to stand up again.

Eclipse gasped as she hit the wall, bones cracking from the impact. Sine's power and strength is insane, even for a god... It was just moments before Eclipse summoned her daggers, darting forward once more to attack the black-and-purple haired god.

Sine easily dodged, moving fluidly, "I don't have the patience to deal with you longer than needed... be gone," they said coldly, slashing open Eclipse's neck before she could recover.

Eclipse's eyes widened in panic as she felt herself falling, choking on her own blood as the pain and the wound itself made it hard to breathe. No, no, no! It can't be that easy for them to win, no no no... all that for nothing... She crawled forward weakly, ignoring how her vision was growing dark and crimson blood was soaking her neck, clothes, and the ground. Everything felt numb with static and pain. The world faded to black as Eclipse whispered quietly, voice raspy and incoherent from her wound, "no... I can't fail..."

It might have been an eternity later, or just a moment, before Eclipse realized something was odd. Their neck was no longer bleeding, and the surroundings were different, even without opening her eyes. She slowly sat up, blinking. It seemed she was in... a Void?

"Hello, Eclipse," an unfamiliar voice greeted her from above, and Eclipse immediately looked up for the source. The Ancients themselves stood before her, taller than Eclipse had thought they would be. It seemed Nocte was the one speaking.

"W... why am I here? What's going on?" Eclipse whispered, confused, "what about the battle, what about Sine...?"

"Their fate is unimportant," Nocte says dismissively, "What matters now is you. You died, Eclipse, that's why you're here. There is a problem, though...-"

In the brief pause, Eclipse spoke up, anger in her voice, " 'unimportant'!? Their fate is very much important! I need to know what happened, if my Kingdom survived- will survive- I don't know- I need to know their fate!"

"Eclipse, calm yourself," Mores commands, eyes narrowed.

"I'll 'calm myself' once I know my subjects survived! Why do you not care, a god that you appointed turned on everyone! Your judgment caused this, don't you plan on fixing it!?" Eclipse snapped, standing up fully and glaring at the Ancient gods. They towered over her, but Eclipse felt no fear as she continues speaking, "My subjects- your followers- could be dying, or could have died! In fact, several had died!"

"That does not matter currently," Nocte sighs, tired, as Nocte looks down at Eclipse, analyzing her.

"Why don't you care!? Why do you keep refusing to answer!?" Eclipse yells, before falling silent, eyes widening slightly as it clicked in her mind. Of course they didn't care, that's why they'd started the Pantheon, and the 'incarnations', so the Ancients themselves would be able to turn away, and to abandon the Realms they'd made.

Eclipse growls, eyes narrowing again. "Zenza was right... Power corrupts. And you six... You're the definition of corrupt, aren't you? You wanted to abandon those who care about you more than anything else," Eclipse hisses.

"Zenza-?" Omnia frowns, worried, and Tempes steps forward.

"What we are planning is of none of your concern, Eclipse," Tempes warns.

"It's very much my concern, considering it obviously affects my subjects," Eclipse hisses, eyes glowing with power as the air around her crackles slightly. Would she attack the Ancients? Without a moment of doubt if they continue as they are.

"Eclipse, I recommend you sto-"

"I will say what has to be said! You do not get to abandon us, not after everything you've done and everything you've caused. You made our stars-forsaken Realms, now it's your responsibility to keep your subjects alive. If you don't wish to do that, I suppose you should have thought of that before making two Realms that are dependent on your words," Eclipse shouts, voice echoing in the dark and endless expanse of space, "if you won't take care of your subjects, I'll do it for you. Send me back to that stars-forsaken place, I know you six don't deserve to be gods."

The Ancients exchanged a glance, and Nocte steps forward, summoning their sword, "if you wish to be sent back... then that will be your fate. You'll live again and again until you're redeemed, until you are the great leader you're 'supposed' to be."

Eclipse takes a step back and raised her hands, but it was too late, Nocte's sword already plunging into her chest. Everything faded to a staticky blackness once again...

​​​​​​And Eclipse slowly opened her eyes, realizing she was in a new form, and a new life entirely, as a grey-haired Draconic with blue-grey eyes smiled at her lovingly, though tiredness was in her gaze, "hello, my child."​​​​

[thedeafprophet]

Despite all my rage: A playlist for Alexander Hastings, The Vitriolic Thief

Criminal, thief, arsonist. Light Fingers PC

Track list and lyric highlights under the cut

City Life - Redlight King

"Just another day in the city life Just another day where we live or die We're all prayin' through the smoke filled sky"

2. Catch Me If You Can - Set It Off

"I only feel at home when I'm on the run I only open doors just to pick the locks Too busy throwing stones at your fragile thoughts"

3. Play Dirty - Kevin Mcallister

"If you wanna go, this is how it goes If you wanna roll, heads are gonna roll If you wanna play, we can play all day But we play, play dirty, play dirty"

4. Volatile Times -IAMX

"Goodbye my friends Goodbye to the money Adieu to the fuckers that think that it's funny I just want to turn the lights on in these volatile times"

5. Bullet With Butterfly Wings - Tribe Society

"Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Someone will say, "What is lost can never be saved"

6. The Hand That Feeds

"My papa taught me how to howl How to bare my teeth and growl He taught me that the hand that feeds Deserves to be bitten when it beats"

7. Arsonist's Lullaby - Hozier

"When I was a child, I'd sit for hours Staring into open flame, something in it had a power Could barely tear my eyes away"

8. Searching For A Devil - In The Valley Below

"Well if you're hoping for a free ride Hell there's room in mine And we can love for the sake of the little one And his hazel eyes"

9. Reminders - Radical Face

"I wish I had more nice things to say But I was raised not to lie I'm either honest, or I'm an optimist But never both at the same time"

10. To Be Alone - Hozier

"I know that you hate this place Not a trace of me would argue Honey, we should run away, oh, someday Our baby and her momma and the damaged love she made"

11. Me And Mine - The Brothers Right

"I will burn your kingdom down If you try to conquer me and mine"

12. Beautiful Crime - Tamer

"We fight every night for something When the sun sets, we're both the same Half in the shadows Half burned in flames"

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

How would the Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) & Demise react to waking up one day and their hair being completely white?

Here’s how each version of Ganondorf and Demise would react to waking up and discovering their hair (or in Demise's case, flames) had turned completely white:

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Wind Waker Ganondorf wakes up, rubs his face, and freezes when he catches a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby surface—his once vibrant, red hair now stark white. His eyes narrow in disbelief as he stands up abruptly, moving closer to inspect it.

“What trickery is this?” He mutters to himself, fingers running through the white strands. At first, he's annoyed, viewing the change as a sign of weakness or aging. However, after a few moments, he straightens up and smirks.

“Hmph. Perhaps the world isn’t ready for a white-haired Demon King.” He adjusts to the change quickly, seeing it as a potential advantage—something that could give him an even more fearsome appearance. His vanity might take a small hit, but he’d ultimately embrace the change.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf’s initial reaction is one of seething rage. He wakes up, sees the white hair, and immediately assumes it’s the work of some curse or spell cast by his enemies—perhaps something from the sages or the Hero of Time himself.

“White…? This is unacceptable!” His voice is a low, menacing growl as he grabs a mirror, glaring at the reflection as if he could crush the white hair with sheer force of will. His anger would last for quite a while, as he views the color change as a sign of someone attempting to mock his power.

It would take time, but after calming down, he might embrace the new look, telling himself that the white hair only adds to his aura of unrelenting, timeless power. He would turn it into a symbol of his enduring might, refusing to let it be a weakness.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Twilight Princess Ganondorf would react with cold, calculating surprise. He rises from his bed, catches sight of his reflection, and pauses, a hand lightly touching his newly white hair.

“Interesting…” he murmurs. His mind immediately begins racing through potential reasons, suspecting anything from a magical anomaly to divine intervention. But rather than being angry or unnerved, he contemplates the implications.

He straightens up, staring at his reflection with an expression of calm dominance. “White is the color of death, isn’t it?” he muses aloud, thinking that the stark contrast between his dark skin and the white hair gives him an even more imposing look. He decides to keep it, convinced that it further emphasizes his status as an unyielding force of nature.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf wakes up with a growl, irritated by the way his hair feels different as it brushes against his back. Sitting up, he glances around and catches a reflection in his armor—white hair cascading down his back.

At first, he's genuinely shocked. “What madness is this?” he bellows, running his hands through his now white mane. For a moment, he’s incredulous, wondering if he’s been cursed or if this is some bizarre side effect of his growing power.

But after a few moments, his expression shifts into a wicked grin. “No matter. Even this only makes me stronger.” His new look feels powerful—almost like it was meant to signify his ascension as the true ruler of all things. He embraces it completely, believing it enhances his terrifying presence in battle.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf would react with a controlled but intense fury. As soon as he sees his hair has turned completely white, his fist clenches and a palpable wave of anger radiates from him.

“White…” he hisses through gritted teeth. His immediate thought is that this is a sign of weakness or mortality—something he’s fought against his entire existence. His rage would bubble beneath the surface as he attempts to find the source of the change, assuming someone dared to tamper with his power.

However, after some time, his perception shifts. He stares at his reflection again, and instead of seeing weakness, he starts to view it as a new form of fearsome strength. “White is the color of death—and now, I will bring death to them all.” The transformation, once accepted, would only add to his terrifying aura.

Demise

Demise wakes up, his fiery hair flickering as usual—until he notices something strange. The flames burning atop his head, once a deep, menacing orange-red, are now pure white, crackling with even more intensity than before.

His first reaction is a low, rumbling growl of confusion, his hand lifting to touch the white flames. “White…?” His voice reverberates with irritation. This was not a change he expected or welcomed. He assumes it must be the result of some divine interference—a curse from Hylia, perhaps.

But as he stands there, the sight of the pure, white flames begins to stir something else within him. The flames are even more intense than before, and they burn hotter, fiercer. “White flames,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing. “Perhaps this is more fitting for the end of all things.”

His white flame signifies an even higher level of destruction—something that transcends the mortal world. He would accept it as a reflection of his pure, undiluted hatred and desire to destroy everything.

In summary:

Wind Waker Ganondorf would be confused but ultimately embrace it, finding power in the change.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf would be furious, seeing it as a curse, but eventually embrace it as a symbol of his enduring might.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf would react with calculated curiosity and quickly adapt to it, seeing it as a sign of his power over death.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf would be shocked at first but quickly accept it, viewing it as a symbol of his ascension.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf would be intensely angry, but once he accepts it, he’d view it as a terrifying symbol of death.

Demise would be irritated at first but would see the white flames as a sign of his ultimate destructive power, becoming more menacing as a result.

Each one would ultimately turn the white hair or flames into a symbol of their strength, never allowing it to diminish their power or influence.

[moronic-validity]

The Runaway

You guys, I'm updating on time

Holy shit

18+ as always, just bc the rest of the series is.

Simon rushed forward, staring helplessly through the flames that acted as the bars to his cell.

Why did he follow me? He knew what would happen to him…

The guards circled him, waiting for him to wake up.

It took minutes, but it felt like hours.

Winter stirred, his eyes opening just enough to see Simon’s panic, before his attention was brought to the guards circling him.

He moved quickly, rising to his feet.

To Simon’s shock, they let him.

“Alright, what is this?” Winter questioned, still disoriented, but realizing the severity of the situation.

The guards moved quickly, punching the man in the ribs.

Simon cried out as Winter doubled over.

Winter righted himself and swung at the guard, who side-stepped without issue. They used his open stance to strike him again.

He gasped for air, feeling his ribs crunch at the blow.

The guards circled him.

Winter tried to fight back, but three on one is never a fair fight, especially without his powers.

He righted himself again, clutching his side.

One of the guards kicked the back of his knee and laughed as he fell, unable to catch himself.

They began kicking him wherever they could, his head, his face, his chest, his back; if he blocked one place, they would move to one of the others.

He fell unconscious and they continued with the intent to kill him.

Simon moved before he could process what he was doing.

He covered his face and pushed through the pillars of fire, the adrenaline masking the pain.

He grabbed the sword from the belt of one of the guards and, in a blind rage, thrust it through their abdomen.

He swung without thinking, his only concern was the safety of his King.

The guards fell, one right after the other

He looked to the crown on the ground and thought for a moment before grabbing it and securing it to his belt with the paracord he kept in his jacket.

They took his pocket knife, but no one ever thinks to take the rope.

He hauled Winter over his shoulders in an unpracticed fireman’s carry.

His injuries were meaningless to him at this point, he was running on instinct alone.

And then Simon ran, the sword still clutched in his hand.

He was never a strong man, but he pushed forward.

He had memorized the path the guard had taken to bring him to the dungeon and he followed it to get back out.

Flame Princess waited by the gates, watching with amusement as the older man stumbled towards her.

It was the only way out.

Simon stood before her, his chest heaving.

“Just give up Simon, even if I let you out, what will you do? Die in the woods? You can’t make it all the way back to your kingdom and we both know it,” she sounded bored but somewhat genuine.

Simon paused for a moment, caught off guard by her sincerity.

“If you give me the King, I’ll take you to the infirmary and get your arm patched up. You can be my advisor and unlike him, I won’t make you sleep with me to secure your position.”

His gaze hardened.

He never considered that sex was the reason Winter kept him around, but it did make sense. Why else would Winter let a stranger stay in the castle, let alone at his right hand?

“I’d hurry up if I were you, Simon, once my knights come my offer is off the table and I’ll have you both killed,” she examined her nails, awaiting his answer.

Simon dropped to his knees, gently letting the King off his shoulders, resting him on the ground between them.

The Flame Princess smiled as Simon kneeled before her.

Tears formed in Simon’s eyes, he failed him.

He stared at Winter’s bruised face and he tightened his grip on the stolen sword.

He lunged forward and drove the sword into the Flame Princess’ gut.

She cried out and doubled over in a mixture of shock and pain.

Simon grabbed Winter, hauled him back over his shoulder, and shoved past the princess. The injury wouldn’t kill her, but it would keep her distracted and buy them some time.

He couldn’t stop running, not until they made it home.

The wounds on his arm and shoulder had reopened, seeping blood through his beloved jacket.

He couldn’t stop.

His muscles screamed in agony as he forced them to continue at a pace they were unfamiliar with.

He couldn’t stop.

He was so cold, his vision was beginning to go black at the edges.

He couldn’t stop.

He was still deep in the woods, he couldn’t stop.

Not now.

Not yet.

It no longer mattered to him if he lived or died, but he needed to get Winter home. They could help him. He would be okay. He just needed to get him home.

As soon as his feet touched the snow, the world went black and he collapsed, the adrenaline finally wearing off.

His fight was over.

The Ice Scouts found them seconds later.

Simon was bleeding, staining the snow around him a deep crimson. Their King was unconscious, his breathing shallow and his face varying shades of purple.

They moved quickly, bringing both men inside and to the infirmary.

Simon woke up first, screaming in terror until he felt the cold and realized they were home.

They were safe.

Simon walked with his IV stand to help him, and headed to the throne room. He passed by Winter as he left the room and saw that he was still unconscious, the crown now resting atop his sleeping head. The bruises on his face were fading as the powers of the crown healed him.

Simon nodded to himself, satisfied knowing he was going to be okay.

He shuffled to the throne room and sat at his desk, thankful they had only removed his shirt and jacket, chuckling softly at the thought of having to sit on the ice in a hospital gown.

He grabbed his papers and a pen and began writing to the kingdom’s allies.

If the Flame Princess wanted a war, she would get one.

[lowkeyclueless5137]

I come with a fifth Barbie movie AU Idea but this time The Magic of Pegasus(cause that movie was also my childhood :D), and let’s have Ortho be the star this time(he’ll be a super great ice skater in my opinion, plus he’ll technically be a prince too[also yeah royal Shroud Family]) plus uhhh your older brother got turned into a Pegasus 😀💧, uhhh BLESS US WITH YOUR WRITER MAGIC AND MAKE THIS AU COME TO LIFE!

*pulls out wand*

*wand explodes in face* :'3

Nah... Make it more chaotic!

It's a few changes... But nonetheless it's fun to make a 5th au for the Barbie movies :D

How about Idia being turned into a dragon. Because let's be fricking serious, a Pegasus or a pheonix(my second option) is very pretty and it wouldn't surprise anyone if it stood at the royal palace, since it was an exquisite animal that many would expect an influential royal person to own.

But a dragon? Everyone knew Idia would be hunted on sight! The people would be outraged that such beast lived in their kingdom. Hence why he had to leave for far away lands. If you wonder, no, he couldn't breath fire, but he could set himself up with that blue flame he had for hair. Hence he uses this technique when he's cornered.

Now cut to our Boi Ortho. He grew up to be a bit more rebelios, since his parents were very protective of him. He never understood why they were so protective, because he was never told about Idia's story. Don't get him wrong, he loves his parents, but sometimes they drive him up the walls with that protectiveness.

He has Epel, a bear cub, as his friend. Epel was a lil shit, but overall loyal to his buddy.

Cue Ortho's 18th birthday coming up. Being deemed major at that point, many expected that after this to maybe hear about a possible engagement. The people of the kingdom knew that if Idia was there, he would've already been promised to someone, but then again, for Ortho it wasn't heard about any arrangements.

Because it was hiss birthday, Ortho is allowed to do anything his heart desires, with a few conditions: don't leave the borders and don't talk to strangers if he decides to go outside. Pretty simple if you ask me. :3

As such, Ortho is allowed to go and ice-skate at the big party on the frozen lake next to the castle. He could've sworn that his mother could hardly keep some tears, but he swatted it off as her being just a bit emotional. He expected his father to be the most emotional one, but alas, with a small hug and a kiss on the cheek, Ortho bid farewell and went to have fun with Epel.

But the fun doesn't last long when a griffin comes from the sky with a very sus wizard. This wizard introduces himself as Ortho's future husband, which the teen is rightfully grossed out by this. He actually did expect the possibility of an arranged marriage, but even this guy was way too under the bar.

It becomes more wierd when the king and queen arrive and demand to leave Ortho alone. Ortho had no idea what dangerous this situation was and he shouldn't marry so soon, let alone with a man that it's so self-centered and bitchy. Like please... There are some standards. -3-

Of course, in a fit of rage, the evil wizard turns everyone into ice statues, saying that if Ortho doesn't marry him, his kingdom and parents would melt at the first sign on spring.

Ortho is fucking confused, since it was the end of summer here. Did the guy not do his homework? Here's always cold.

Nonetheless, the ice statues were a bad sign and Ortho needed to flee. Grabbing Epel, he was ready to do so, but the griffin was also easy to snatch the prince in its claws.

Cue big dragon coming to the rescue. Of course, the wizard mocks it, saying how pitiful Idia became as just an oversized lizard with wings. Idia tho, doesn't spare much time, getting Ortho and dipping out of there, before the wizard could even try to catch up to them.

Ortho is rightfully terrified. But the dragon is just glad he's alright, presenting himself as Idia. He doesn't tell too much, but mentions that the wizard that demanded for marriage was a powerful, self-centered jerk that, unfortunately, everyone had to comply otherwise they would suffer a worse fate than in their nightmares.

Idia reveals that he was actually summoned in by the king and queen, to look out for Ortho. They knew that the wizard might show up to ask for marriage, so they called Idia, to take Ortho somewhere safe and avoid the wizard's wrath that way.

And Ortho rightfully is shaken up by this. They were in a cave, Epel in his lap and him hugging the bear, just processing the whole ordeal. It was a bit chilly, but that's when Idia puts himself in between Ortho's back and the cave wall, setting himself on fire. The fire did not burn or hurt, but it was warm and soothing.

The wizard surely won't stop looking for his 'bride' so Idia brought Ortho to the sky castle, castle ruled by Malleus.

Malleus also seemed to expect the 2, so he asks Azul if by chance they have the guest room ready for Ortho. Idia tho, insists to keep the younger with him, in case of anything.

Even tho, Ortho and Epel had to be passed on to Azul, mostly to get them used to this place.

Azul says that he was a merman. His kingdom was brought to shambles by the same evil wizard, when he came for prince Rielle's hand and he was refused. As such, all the merpeople were either turned into full fishes or full humans, while Rielle was taken by force.

Malleus's kingdom was struck as well, but he was able to stand off against the threats. Even so, all of Malleus's people were turned into small flying critters that now roam the world and try their best to inform the fae about his enemy's next move. He was also outdone in this situation, as most of his power was stolen by the same greedy mf.

Ortho does ask why Idia was called. At that, Azul says that's it is a touchy subject and that only Idia could disclose such thing.

The first night, Ortho was a bit awkward to sleep next to a literal dragon. But it was also a home-y feeling that Idia had. It felt comfy and safe.

In the morning, Malleus does explain the circumstances: as much as he would want to house in Ortho, the evil wizard was after him. Malleus would risk much more of his kingdom's well-being if he allowed Ortho to stay too much. He had to be in constant movement if he wanted to escape the wizard's clutches.

Of course, Ortho didn't want to just run away and hide. He wanted home and he also wanted his parents and his kingdom to be back to normal and all safe.

Idia does say that there is one solution: a light wand, but that thing was reduced to only a myth. Ortho inquires on why does he insist that it was only a myth and why they shouldn't pursue such thing.

Malleus discloses that Idia used to be human. He was cursed by the wizard to be like this. He was like this for years, all this time looking for a solution. Yet he found nothing and slowly lost his hopes.

Idia himself was on another side of the room, getting reassured by Azul. Malleus tells Ortho that, give or take, he would have around 3 days until the wizard would resort to much worse threats. So Ortho begs to know how he can at least aquire the wand.

So Malleus gives him the instructions on how to build the said wand. Idia insists on accompanying Ortho and Epel on their small journey.

But, while passing by a mirror, Ortho noticed how Idia looked human in the reflection. And it was a quite strong resemblance in between them. Idia said to pay no mind to it and just move. The more they move, the harder it is to track them.

And so, the 3 venture around. They meet Ace, a merchant who was in search for something to sell out so he could pay his debts.

Later on, it is revealed Idia's backstory, how he was the older brother of Ortho and how he made a mistake of rushing into marriage. He was promised to prince Malleus(before he was crowned king), but when Idia was 16, the wizard showed up. Ortho was merely a baby then when Idia refused to marry the wizard, for he was engaged already. This stirred the wrath of the wizard and as such, Idia was cursed to a violent beast that no one could ever love.

Of course, we get through a lot of shenanigans, Ace actually being promised in the end, from Ortho something to pay off his debt. They are friends, yay! :D

And we do get the evil wizard defeated and his spells broken by the light wand.

And that would be it! A happy ending :D

[aebi12]

"Sinful Desires" - Chapter 23

Vhagar lands on one of the shores of the Gods Eye, where Daemon is already waiting with his dragon.

"Finally, we meet," Aemond says from above, "You have lived too long, uncle."

“On that much we agree,” the man nods, turning his back on him, and climbing onto Caraxes.

It's funny, the young prince thinks as he waits for his uncle to take to the skies, how much he used to admire Daemon Targaryen. The famous rogue prince, the brave bearer of Dark Sister, the man who had earned his fame from the war in the Step stones. It was easy to be dazzled by the man's imposing presence, his size, his handsome and mystical features, his skill in combat, and his derisive comments. It was easy, yes, to think that he was a worthy role model, especially when one is an impressionable child who never received affection from his father. Not that his uncle had filled any space in that regard, but still... Aemond had been curiously drawn to him, perhaps because they both shared their position as second sons, always destined for the background, yet clearly better equipped to exercise power than the heirs.

Yes, it had been easy to empathize with Daemon Targaryen.

But, as he learned growing up, his uncle is just a cruel man with no real purpose, and nothing dazzling to admire. His foolish war with the Free Cities had only brought losses to the kingdom, his temper had guaranteed him enemies, his violent nature had robbed Aemond of the people he loved most. There was no way to let go of his crimes, there was no other way but vengeance. Vengeance that would have to end with Daemon's death.

Or with yours, whispers that voice in his head.

Vhagar ascends easily, understanding what the prince is asking of her. If his she-dragon remembers that there was a time when she used to fly with Caraxes and his rider in peace, she does not show it, because her jaws open mercilessly trying to catch the Blood Wyrm. But it is not so easy to do so. Vhagar is big and slow, Caraxes is fast, and his lighter body manages to fend off his dragoness’s attacks.

Still, they charge at both, flames streaking the sky, Vhagar roaring in rage as Caraxes' wings escape her fangs once more. Aemond whispers High Valyrian words to the dragon, who opens her jaws and unleashes her powerful fire, managing to burn part of her opponent's tail.

Caraxes flees into the sky and Vhagar follows him. For a few long minutes, Aemond seems to lose track of his uncle and his dragon. And then he listens to them, but it's too late for Vhagar to evade Caraxes's blow entirely. Her dragon roars in pain as the wyrm's fangs cut one of her wings.

Aemond roars in fury, his concern growing as he realizes that Vhagar cannot easily move the injured wing. Even so, she is only more enraged than ever, and with a renewed effort she goes for Caraxes, who this time fails to fully escape. Vhagar's claws rip into his belly, causing blood to spill and the red dragon to roar in pain as well.

Caraxes writhes until he coils his long neck close to Vhagar, his fangs closing on her neck. Vhagar responds by biting into his wings and further opening the belly wound. Caraxes is seriously injured, Aemond realizes, but so is his she-dragon.

A strong jolt and the force of the wind let Aemond know that both dragons are plummeting towards the lake. Fear wells up inside him, paralyzing him for terrifying seconds as he realizes this is the end of his path. No one could survive that fall.

“I'll be back to you, I promise,” he had told Alyssa. He is about to break his words.

Vhagar roars with a force that makes him tremble, and Aemond clings to the saddle. Daemon seems to be hovering over his dragon, he has certainly gotten up from his chair, what is he up to? The shine of the Valyrian steel blinds his eye for a few seconds. Daemon has drawn Dark Sister and is moving up Caraxes's body, swinging precariously towards him.

“Old fool,” Aemond says, freeing himself from the chains with which he is secured to Vhagar.

Aemond takes his hand to the hilt of his sword as well, but doesn't have time to draw it. Neither does Daemon, because suddenly both are engulfed by the icy and deep waters of the Gods Eye.

And then everything goes black around him.

~ ~ ~

His lungs burn and his body seems to be pierced by icy needles.

Aemond tries to breathe but can't. When he opens his mouth for air, his insides fill with something that freezes his gut and that he doesn't identify.

Disoriented, he struggles to open his eye, but there's nothing he can see around him, just darkness.

Where the hell is he?

The distant sound of a dragon roaring brings him back to immediate reality.

The fall. The lake. His uncle Daemon. Vhagar.

Cursing inwardly, he moves his arms and legs to push himself and get as fast as possible towards the surface. His arms and legs seem to weigh like blocks of cement, but the prince forces himself to swim until after a few long seconds he breaks through the darkness and can finally breathe normally. The air entering his lungs fills him with relief and pleasure, and it takes him a minute to recover enough to orient, and swim to shore.

Night is beginning to fall and the moon is already illuminating the firmament. Aemond drops to the sand at the shoreline to catch his breath, but nearby flames bring him back to the spur of the moment. The prince stands up and draws his sword, though it takes him a couple of tries to regain his balance, his hands tired and his fingers numb from the cold.

Aemond walks over to Vhagar, who is pitifully lying near the edge of the lake. The wetness of her scales allows him to notice that the dragon had also been submerged in water and had managed to swim or crawl to land. Perhaps she wasn't as hurt as she seemed up there, maybe…

A stabbing pain in his right-side forces him to interrupt his thoughts and to curse. Aemond manages to turn around just in time to avoid a new attack from his uncle, whom he hasn't heard approaching because he was so focused on his friend.

"Seven hells!" he mutters to himself, dodging a blow once more.

There is an insane grin on the old prince's face, made more terrifying by the trickle of blood running from his forehead to his chin. Daemon is also apparently injured.

Aemond wields his sword, and this time, when his uncle charges at him again, he is ready. Steel collides with steel, uncle and nephew angrily try to murder each other. Damon is strong, and despite how tired he seems, his thrusts are skilled. Aemond is faster, used to dodging his opponents and leading them to the side of his good eye so that he is not exposed, but he is injured, the cut on his side is bleeding, and the pain is starting to seize him.

No. He cannot lose.

He has people waiting for him, important people who are counting on him. People who are going to die or to whom terrible things are going to happen if he loses this duel, and leaves them stranded.

The idea gives him the boost he needs to put aside the pain of the injury and fight with the same impetus. Daemon recoils from the young prince's sudden ferocity, staggering and cursing. That's all the edge he needs. As his uncle tries to regain his balance, Aemond takes advantage of the seconds of hesitation to swing hard at Daemon’s sword, cutting his hand and causing him to drop it. One more fluid movement and Aemond's sword pierces his uncle's belly with such violence that Daemon ends up falling to his knees.

There are a couple of seconds of utter stillness before Aemond withdraws his sword and watches the body of his uncle fall. The prince cautiously approaches the still figure of Damon, though his eyes are wide and his breathing is shallow. He doesn't have much time left, just a few more minutes to live, he thinks.

Aemond should be proud, excited to have won the fight, to finally have his revenge… he can only feel contempt for the pathetic sight. And then there's all the rage he still feels. The young man carelessly kicks Dark Sister aside, and unleashes his fury into Daemon Targaryen's face. What little strength he has left escapes with every blow he lands, unable to stop as he listens in his mind to his sister's screams, as he remembers his nephew’s lifeless little body and all the pain that came after. It's not enough, not even when the man's face turns to a bloody pulp and his knuckles bleed, torn apart by the power of his blows.

He only stops because Vhagar roars and the neighing of a horse reaches his ears.

It doesn't take long for him to see her. Of course, Alyssa couldn't wait in the castle until he got back. A lopsided smile appears automatically on his lips as he watches her carelessly dismount, the poor animal looking terrified to be so close to Vhagar.

It takes Aemond a couple of tries to get to his feet, but he manages to keep his balance long enough to walk towards his princess, who has already located him and is practically running to join him.

"Aemond!" she sighs with relief, hugging his body, and making him stagger. Her eyes flick briefly to the corpse of her stepfather and she shudders at the state he's in. “I was so scared,” she whispers against his chest, reveling in his particular scent.

The prince takes her face in his hands and watches her under the moonlight. Her bright green eyes, her full lips, the trail of tears on her cheeks, the blush in them surely from having ridden so fast on such a cold night. Alyssa looks more beautiful than ever even though she is crying again. Aemond swallows, thinking that for a moment he was sure he would never see that face again.

“Hey, it’s okay, my love, I'm fine,” he says, though his voice sounds weak and the pain in his side stuns him for a few seconds, causing him to close his eye and curse.

"You are injured"

Alyssa seems to suddenly notice Aemond's appearance. Her eyes scan his body, his face has a few bruises, his hands are full of blood, although she suspects it's not his, and the wound on his side seems to be the most dangerous visible injury.

"I'm fine, don't worry, I'm…"

Aemond can't finish speaking. Alyssa gasps as he falls to his knees, his hand clutching his wound.

"Aemond!"

 "It's nothing, just…" once again, words fail him. Aemond hisses in pain and suddenly feels very, very tired. His body feels extremely weak, and he can't breathe normally, as if he is still inside the lake.

Alyssa kneels beside him, and lifts his leather jacket to examine the wound, biting back a sob as she realizes how deep it is in, and the enormous amount of blood spurting from it.

"We have to…. We have to tend to that wound, you can't…” she can't even finish a coherent thought

“It's going to be all right,” he manages to say, feeling sleep wash over his body. If only he could rest for a few minutes...

“Aemond, no, no, don't close your eyes,” she asks terrified, “Aemond, do you hear me? Aemond!” She practically sobs his name as the forces betray the prince, his body failing, "Don't leave me, please don't leave me."

Alyssa caresses Aemond's face, calling his name several times, but he has closed his eye, and doesn't seem to hear her, “Please, no, no, don't leave me,” she says again as she shakes his body, again to no avail.

She is wasting time.

If she has any chance of saving Aemond, she has to take him to Alys immediately. And it's only the urgency of the situation that gives her the capability to carry the weight of his body, leaning against hers to get to her feet and walk towards the mare, that thankfully hasn't fled and continues to wait obediently for Alyssa.

Vhagar roars, pained and angry, but Alyssa pays her no mind. Her only goal is to get Aemond on the mare and get to the castle as soon as possible. Although achieving it takes her several attempts because the prince is already passed out by the time she manages to sit on the mare as well and hug his body with one arm.

“Hold on, please hold on,” she pleads as she smacks the mare's sides, motioning it forward. The animal couldn't be happier to get away from the dragon, so it doesn't take long for them to reach the castle.

“Alys! Alys!” Alyssa yells as she stops the animal outside the cabin, “Alys, help him, he's hurt and…”

They both unload Aemond from the mare and carry him into the cabin, where they place him on the table. Alys immediately goes to work, freeing his body from his clothing and examining the wound.

"The wound is too deep," she says, "and he's lost too much blood."

"Then do something!" she practically yells, glaring at her

“It would be of little use, the wound is…”

"I don't care how big the wound is," she replies hysterically, "You're going to help him and Aemond is going to be okay because… because he promised me so, and I'm going to make him keep that promise."

“Princess, I don't think…”

"I don't care what you think," she cuts her off, rage welling up inside her at Alys's excuses, "Stop wasting his time and help him."

There are a few brief seconds in which both women observe each other. Finally, Alys goes over to one of her shelves and starts working.

***

"I'm sorry I spoke to you in that way, you did not deserve my anger"

Hours have passed since Alys finished closing Aemond's wound. In addition to the cut, the woman dictated that he had fractured ribs, which made it difficult for him to breathe, that's why a weak whistle comes out of his chest.

“I can understand how you were feeling,” the woman replies, “It doesn't change anything though. I have done everything I can for him. His recovery escapes from my hands”

That's not what Alyssa wants to hear, and the woman's words cut through her like deep knives. The girl looks at Aemond once more, the ghastly paleness of his expression, his body terribly bruised, the bandages around his waist. A lump form in her throat.

“There must be a way to help him,” she replies, “You must know some method, something…alternative.” Her green eyes meet Alys's black ones. Didn't people say that she was a witch? Surely, she knew some secret way of healing, "Perhaps your fires have an answer"

“There is no other answer,” Alys replies in a tone that tells Alyssa she knows something.

“Please, whatever it is, do it. I just want him back,” she pleads.

"Magic rarely offers a solution," the woman says, "and it wouldn't bring him back."

"It's not like I have a lot of options"

"Wait. And pray,” she replies.

Alyssa is tempted to throw her the cup of the she has in her hands, but she holds back, and her eyes go to her little brother, who is still sleeping soundly.

What is going to happen to them now? If Aemond does not resist... she will have to find her mother and reunite her with Aegon. And she will have to live by Rhaenyra’s expectations and rules again, if she doesn't take it badly that Alyssa has gone to seek refuge with the man who murdered her husband.

No, Aemond could not die. He was strong, he was a fighter. And besides, they were so close to ending it all… Aemond had to live. He had gotten healed once, when her own hand caused the wound, he was going to heal now as well.

"You should rest," says Alys, "He's not going to wake up anytime soon."

Yeah, sleep is probably the best idea, but Alyssa can't just leave him alone. Not that night, nor the days that follow.

Aemond has been transferred to the castle with the help of a couple of servants. Alys changes his bandages twice a day, but she says there isn't much progress.

The fevers are the worst, they come every night, and cause the prince's body to tremble, his lips murmuring unintelligible words.

“For the infection,” Alys says as she tries to get Aemond to ingest the contents of a glass vial.

"I thought the wounds were clean"

"Fever says otherwise"

Alyssa sighs. The sun is about to rise, the night has been long and she has been by his bed once again, although it is increasingly difficult for her to stay for long hours when during the day her little brother demands her attention.

"An army is approaching the castle, princess Alyssa."

A maid, visibly frightened, gives her the news. Alyssa immediately stands up and watches Aemond, unconscious and unable to defend himself from possible enemies. And it is not that she has many means to defend the castle or…

“Did you manage to see the banners?” she asks before her brain starts to torment her more and her fear paralyzes her. The maid shakes her head.

Alyssa turns to Alys, who seems to understand what she is asking of her. Protection for Aegon and Aemond. The woman nods, and Alyssa walks out of the room toward one of the towers so she can watch the approaching men.

The army is quite sizeable in numbers, and her heart races with fear at the possibility of having to flee. She cannot leave Aemond in that state, and traveling with Aegon has already proven risky. Who are these men? Alyssa narrows her eyes and watches the banners fluttering in the wind. It takes her a while to recognize it, a golden dragon against black background.

Aegon.

How come Aegon is here? Surely, it's impossible, his injuries were too severe to venture into a military campaign. And the riverlands are loyal to her mother, how come…

Her thoughts come to a halt when the man leading the army removes his helmet and immediately recognizes Corlys Velaryon.

~~~

“I didn't expect to see you here, my lord”

Alyssa receives her grandfather in one of the rooms. A servant has brought them breakfast, Lord Corlys eats heartily, though she can barely bother, too tired and anxious to feed.

"On the other hand, I am not surprised that you are here with Prince Aemond"

Alyssa nods. The last time she saw Lord Corlys they were both still in King's Landing with her mother, what has happened since then?

"I must admit, it never crossed my mind you could support Aegon," she says, taking a glass of wine and raising it to her lips.

"Your mother turned against my house time and time again, she questioned the loyalty of my sons... my grandsons, and unjustly imprisoned me" She nods again, "Even so, I'm sorry how it all ended, your mother didn't deserve such a... bloody end”

Alyssa, who is about to drink once more, stops her action upon hearing his words. An involuntary tremor causes her to drop the glass, the crimson of the wine spreading on the floor.

"My mother is dead?" she asks in a small voice

Corlys shifts uncomfortably in his chair, "I thought you knew that."

"Last I heard from her, she was on her way to Dragonstone after fleeing from King's Landing."

Her mother is dead. The idea is so bizarre to her that she can't process it. No, there must have been a mistake.

“Aegon was hiding on Dragonstone and it didn't take him long to gain control of the castle,” Lord Corlys informs her, perhaps sensing her need for news, “Your mother didn't have many allies and Aegon captured her quickly. His dragon was with him so…you can imagine the rest”

No. Alyssa can't just imagine, so she insists until Lord Corlys speaks again. When he is over, her face is pale and the nauseated feeling that floods her is almost unbearable.

“Aegon murdered my mother,” she whispers, shaking.

“Not that I relish the idea of being his subject,” he sighs, “But Baela tried to killed him as well, and the king forgave her. Besides, with Daemon dead, there's nothing else to do. The Greens are in control, Aegon sits on the Iron Throne and most houses have sworn allegiance to him, we are all sick of war."

Alyssa doesn't answer. She wants to get out of that room, to stop listening to Lord Corlys, and just forget everything he's told her.

"I came here to secure the castle and inform Prince Aemond that his brother requires his presence in King's Landing."

"Aemond is in no condition to go anywhere," she replies, "The king's call will have to wait."

"He also asked for you"

Alyssa frowns, what would Aegon want with her? Suddenly curiosity gives way to fear. If Aegon killed his mother, the next one for sure will be her little brother.

"Does Aegon know that my brother is here with me?"

"He knows," Corlys agrees, "but I don't think he's looking to hurt him."

"What makes you think that, my lord?"

Corlys Velaryon shrugs, “He seems quite satisfied now that he's avenged his children. He did not mention your brother at any time”

Even so, Alyssa is not convinced, "I will not travel to the capital until Aemond is well enough."

“As you like,” Lord Corlys replies, “I am here only as a messenger,” a scowl spreads across his face.

After that conversation, they don't interact much more.

Lord Corlys leaves a garrison in the castle to provide security for Prince Aemond and sends men to also protect Vhagar, who is still near the lake, recovering from his wounds.

“Nearly all the dragons are dead,” Lord Corlys tells her the day before his leave. He and Alyssa are in the Gods Eye, watching the she-dragon from afar, “I still remember when Laena claimed her. She looked so proud of herself."

The man looks towards the horizon, nostalgia is clear in his expression.

“I'm sorry we've had to come to this point,” the young woman says, “but I'm glad Baela and Rhaena are okay.”

Lord Corlys stares at her for a few seconds, “I'm sorry you and I haven't been able to spend much time together. I probably could have done more for you and your brothers, but after Laenor's death…”

He leaves the idea hanging, and Alyssa doesn't respond. She doesn't need Corlys Velaryon's words. She was always aware that her grandparents did not like her, her blood was clearly not that of his son Laenor, and Lord Corlys paid attention to Luke only because he was too proud to admit that the boy was not related to him, and because he knew that through him he could carry on his legacy.

“Have a safe trip, Lord Corlys”.

***

The days pass as an exact repetition of the previous one.

The bruises on Aemond's body begin to heal, his breathing steadies, the wound on his side begins to slowly heal.

But he still doesn't wake up.

Alyssa seems to live in eternal déjà vu as she lies next to Aemond, conversing with someone who doesn't answer, telling him the stories of the kingdom, singing to him until her throat aches.

The girl does her part not to be carried away by grief. By her memories of her mother, only the good ones, because for these last few weeks since she found out about Rhaenyra’s end, her childhood memories are all that have plagued her mind. Her memory is selective, and she appreciates it, because she prefers not to think about everything they said to each other, about the frustration, anger and pain that her last encounters caused her.

No. Better to remember Rhaenyra as the loving mother she was to her and her brothers. Her mother loved her, she knew that much. And she will forever hold that certainty.

"I'm bored!" Aegon says for the third time.

“You could go to the river with Alys,” the princess proposes.

“It's too cold outside,” her little brother sighs theatrically, “it's not even fun to build things in the snow.”

The snow had started to fall a week ago. Aegon had had enough of it with no more children around to play with him.

“Have a little patience, sweetheart. Once your uncle gets better we can return to King's Landing."

“That place is boring too,” the boy crosses his arms and starts crying, “I want my brothers and mother, where is mother?”

He has begun to repeat the question frequently, after Lord Corlys's visit. Alyssa had done her best to explain that their mother was no longer with them, but Aegon was a difficult boy. At least more than Jaehaera. Her silent little princess had accepted her brother's absence more calmly, with an occasional tantrum, yes, but with a better understanding of the situation. Not that Alyssa wanted the roles to be reversed, but it was hard to deal with Aegon's incessant crying, complaining, and questioning.

"I already explained to you, Aegon, that mother is not here and that we cannot see her at the moment"

"But I want…"

"Stop please!" she cuts him off. A throbbing pain begins to star in her head.

Aegon starts to cry and Alyssa sighs. When she wants to go after him, her brother runs. The maid immediately goes after the boy, and the princess buries her fingernails into her palms, annoyed, tired and sad. Her brother didn't deserve to be treated that way.

"Aegon!" she starts calling while she also leaves the sitting room, “Come, please, I need…”

Alyssa stops short when she feels something slide down her legs.

"What in seven hells...?" she whispers as she lifts her skirts and discovers the trail of blood.

Her thighs are suddenly covered in blood, and a familiar pain in her belly takes her by surprise.

“No, no, no, no, not again,” she says to herself as she almost runs to where she knows she'll find Alys.

The woman seems to understand the situation instantly, so she helps her out of her dress, and just like Talya once did, she stays by her side as it all happens. This time it's even faster than the last time, although just as painful.

“I didn't even know I was with child,” she says after Alys has cleaned her up.

“When was the last time your blood descended?”

“I… I don't remember,” she replies embarrassed.

"And before this? Was your blood flowing normally every month?"

Alyssa tries to think, but the truth is that she doesn't remember the last time she had to worry about it. The situation in King’s Landing had been so turbulent, and she was so immersed in her losses, that the absence of her moon blood had not once crossed her mind.

"Has this happened before?" asks the woman with interest

"Once," she replies after clearing her throat, "I guess I'm just not cut out to be a mother."

Her own words make her sob. Why was this happening again? Why right now? Aemond bedridden and his child, perhaps the only thing that could comfort her, was also abandoning her.

“Don't say that,” Alys reproaches.

“But it's true,” she shakes her head, “My mother had six children without problem, and Aemond's mother managed to have four. You would think it would be easy for me too, right? But another loss…” she trails off, “Something must be wrong with me.”

Alys hears her sob, and when the princess calms down and meets her gaze, she finds that mix of suspicion once more.

"I don't think it's your fault"

"What isn't?"

“Losing these babies,” Alys says quietly, “I've seen this before.”

"What do you mean?" Alyssa shifts in bed, sitting up to hear her better.

"I think it was provoked"

"But I don't drink moon tea," the girl frowns, "I haven't had it in months."

“Moon tea helps only when it is drink opportunely, and it is used for specific cases. This is different, this is… poisoning the body. Turning the womb into a toxic place incapable of sheltering life”

"Alys..."

“I think you have been taking a mixture of herbs that work slowly, but are effective. They do not cause an immediate loss, but rather they slowly dry out its interior, making you barren”

"No, I would never drink…"

Alyssa stops talking. The only thing she's been having on a regular basis was the tea that Talya religiously brought to her room each night.

“I knew it the first time I saw you,” the woman continues, “I knew something was wrong inside of you. And I've been watching. Your headaches, the nausea, the bloated stomach, how long have you been drinking that tea?”

“Months,” she replies in a choked voice, “But it tasted good and it helped my headaches, I couldn't know that… I didn't know it caused these effects”

"Yes, the taste is very sweet, pleasant like almost all things that cause real harm"

Alyssa covers her face with her hands. Why would Talya poison her? What motive would the woman have for doing so? She had proven to be her friend, had helped her flee the city and… Alyssa interrupts her reasoning. It hadn't been Talya who had first offered her the tea, but Alicent.

Alicent who had asked the maester for an infusion for a headache Alyssa falsely claimed to have. And it had been just after she had refused to drink the moon tea after Aemond had go to Rook's Rest to fight alongside his brother.

"It's very difficult to prepare, and the ingredients are expensive, usually just things a castle maester can get."

“Is this going to keep happening?”

“Yes,” Alys looks genuinely sad, “The damage is permanent. And having taken it for so long…”

"I won't be able to be a mother," she sentences, understanding her words

"Perhaps at some point, if your body heals"

"Are you sure?" she asks, tearfully, "Couldn't this be something normal?"

“I don't think so,” she sighs, “Not with the amount of blood you lost. It is not normal"

Alyssa doesn't respond as a maid enters the room at that moment.

“It is Prince Aemond, ma'am. The prince is awake”

[eleerethis]

King's Gambit - Prequel "In the Ashes 1/?"

WARNING: This story WILL contain coarse language, themes, violence, and blood.

A/N:

It's been a while since I last wrote and published anywhere, as such, I would like you to bare with me as I grind up the Wattpad ladder. :)

This is a work of Fiction. The story and the characters are my integral property and all copyright reserved. Please do not copy or reproduce the story in any form.

Summary:

"A revolutio-" "Shh- quiet! People could hear us!" "A revolution but we barely made it out alive last time!"

24 years old knights Konrad Rowley and Aedale Thorpe are prodigies of the Merodian armed forces, known at a young age for their ability and ambition among their peers. Serving the Kingdom of Merod in 5000 Before Alendry's foundation. when your king is a corrupted politician is not the easiest of things. Moreover, as time goes on, raids, banditry, and organized criminal attacks increase. Forcing the two and their companions to act and stop the criminal activity once and for all. However, this adventure might be the first step to liberate Merod from the tyranny of greed…

♠

"It's all my fault."

While the building burned down, I stood there and observed. Scarlet raging flames overran the settlement, devouring anything that dared stand in their way. Fire, fire, fire — even in the serene forest we once cheerfully strolled through. Fire in the expertly constructed wooden homes of individuals who built this now-destroyed town. Fire in this ancient location, a hidden community, hidden from the egotistical men who rule and poison our nation. From the desires of those who seek it. Hidden from the proud, the disdainful, and the clouded hearts of those who are imposing their will on everyone. Fire, fire in our hearts���fire in our young, passionate hearts; fire in our tender hearts; fire in our obstinate hearts; fire in our yearning, unbroken souls.

I ran outside what had once been a house as the scent of burning filled my lungs. If the fire hadn't already destroyed everything, it was about to. A spark was all it took to start a flame, and they were rekindling and growing stronger. The crackle was not the soothing crackle of a soft fire you might have heard while sitting in front of the fireplace.

It wasn't the crackle of a fire that a father would build with wood for his daughter to warm her up. It was not a welcomed one; it did not warm people up; rather, we all knew what it was going to do and what it meant. It meant disaster. It meant destruction. It meant punishment.

"He's doing it because of me..."

This vapor, accompanied by a gray haze, blinded you and made you feel as if you can't breathe. Now that I was outside the building, I could see the destruction- the pain my people felt.

"Arghh-" I jumped as soon as I heard the horrifying agony cry of a middle-aged man. And then two other screams followed. They were high-pitched; however, one sounded younger, more juvenile, while the other sounded like a woman in her thirties. I dared not watch the scene at first but decided to go against my feelings. She was so terrified that she shut her eyes and elevated her head while instinctively using all of her vocal cords. The lady screamed a scream I had never heard before. Fortunately, she seemed to catch no other guard's attention, but I remained hypervigilant; I kept looking frantically at my surroundings in a moment of panic. It was hardly a moment of grace; instead, you could hear the coughing of a sick voice that lacked its usual crystalline grace.

The volume of the fire around them, as well as the fragility of the cry caused by the lack of oxygen, made it difficult to hear a person's cry.

"Please! Please, not Albert, not him!" It seemed like the man's wife stabbed in his stomach was crying and screaming; the soldier pulled his sword out of his body and destroyed the lady's hope to save her husband in the process. Drenched in his blood and with sweat on his blackened face from the smoke, he tried to speak, but I couldn't hear him. All I could hear were the screams of people fighting or running all over the place, as well as what the lady was saying.

"Please! Please, let us go. You don't have to do this! Listen, we can leave and let you do what you have to do; we've done nothing wrong!" She said this as the man was slowly walking towards them. "Please... no!" she continued.

He kept walking toward them, his helmet on, his eyes unseen, but he fastened his pace; her eyes were searching frantically for some sort of exit, and her hands were behind her back, trying to protect her daughter, whom she loved like a mother loves her child.

"You don't have to do this; I have a child! Does she really have to pay the price? We didn't do anything! I swear to God!"

She continued moving backward until her left hand touched the wall behind her, and after casting a quick glance at it, she shook her head, unable to accept that her time was up. The more she tried to move backward, the more she understood she couldn't go anywhere.

"Please, please, leave us alone; whatever we did, we won't do it again! I just want my daughter to live, and you—you have a child, too, right? Please don't do this to a mother and her child, I beg you."

Her eyes were filled with tears, her body was shaking, and she had a big lump in her throat because of the emotions and the scene she just witnessed. Her words weren't making much sense, but that was understandable; her husband had been killed, and they were soon to follow.

"Any death wish?" He coldly said.

My hand was on my mouth, and my whole body was shaking—maybe not as much as the lady's, but yet, here I was, weak, standing on my weak feet with my weak and cold hands touching the cold wall.

I wouldn't, no, I couldn't let them die. Right?

...

right?

"Mommy... I'm scared.." The little brunette spoke to her mother in their very last moments.

No. I can't let this little girl die like this. I can't.

Listen here. I know you're scared, but you have to do something.

The middle-aged woman turned around before leaning towards her child, and then replied with a shaky and fake voice, her eyes watering at the mere idea of getting killed, her daughter and her, and a fake smile to top it all off, "I know, I know, darling... Just close your eyes, ok? I love you, Mira." She then proceeded to hug her as tight as she could, repeating the last four words.

I looked at the unsheathed and bloody sword, and then I placed my right hand on the sword's handle before tightening my grip.

You have to do something about it, someone has to fight for our legacy.

It's now or never.

I took a deep breath and decided to quickly clear my mind, eyes closed. I had to do something, and I couldn't let fear get the best of me. I opened them again and tried to ignore my watering eyes, I knew how to fight with a sword, and despite my tender age, I was quite good at it! I had a chance of doing it, I just had to ignore my feelings and do what I felt was right.

"Are you done?" He asked, not letting her answer and preparing his sword.

I have to do it, right now.

So I bit my lip, exhaled, and intervened.

"Hey, you!" I yelled at him with my broken and high-pitched voice, putting all my anger and determination into it.

I was going to save Mira and her mother.

[retoldflames]

Retold Flames: The Dragonet Prophecy (part 1)

Minor Content Warning Spoiler for mentions of blood and Scarlet brutally Killing.

Here with the second piece of Retold Flames, following up from Succession War. For some AU world building: During the latter years of the Succession War, the Southern Scales (the Kingdom of Sand’s southernmost region, scattered with ruins across the land like scales) would experience a shift in power as the monarchy would be more focused on the war up north (attempts would be made by the monarchy to reestablish their order but would end up crumbling after a few years); leaving groups like the Outclaws of Scorpion Den and the Shore Guild (a group mainly known for their past work of excavating ruins) to gain a talon hold over the region, taking a stance of neutrality on the war (the latter group even having rumors of becoming independent from the Kingdom of Sand as a whole, gaining influence over the ruin settlements and den towns looking for safety from a rising number of outlaws in the region).

-

Asha & Hvitur: Before joining the Talons of Peace, Asha was a fierce warrior among the Mud Kingdom’s forces; Becoming a sister in claws to Kestrel during their time fighting together, making the decision to go with Kestrel in joining the Talons of Peace. There, Asha would meet Mudwing Sibs Crocodile and Bullfrog as well as their Icewing Unsib Hvitur, joining the Talons of Peace after the loss of the rest of their Sib Troop.

During their time working together in the Talons, Asha and Hvitur would grow close, eventually forming a relationship with one another; Commemorating this Hvitur gifting Asha a silver earring and Asha gifting Hvitur a large scarf, brown like her scales. It wouldn't be long however that the two would be chosen to acquire and raise the Dragonets of Destiny with Kestrel and two new Talons of Peace recruits Sandwing Dune (bringing the Sandwing egg) and Seawing Webs (bringing the Seawing egg) selected by Morrowseer (bringing the Nightwign egg) as Minders for the task. Asha would go on to acquire the Mudwing egg of her nephew and successfully bring it back to the others but unfortunately pass away due to injuries from being caught in the crossfire of an ensuing battle on her return trip. Hvitur would be less fortunate, being killed by Burn after escaping the Sky Palace with the Skywing egg; The two being lost together.

-

Kestrel & Dune: Before joining the Talons of Peace, Kestrel was a violent and fierce warrior and arena champion of the Sky Kingdom; Eventually finding a sister in claws and trusted friend in Mudwing Asha on the battlefield, helping Kestrel calm her more destructive tendencies. In time Kestrel would attempt to flee the Sky Kingdom with her newly hatched Skywing twin dragonets from a breeding program from Queen Scarlet, said queen catching Kestrel in her escape and give her the choice to kill one of her own dragonet's and let Scarlet let them live. Kestrel would choose to throw her Featherwing (Skywing twin egg subtribe) dragonet into a nearby raging river and attempt to leave with her fire scale dragonet. But Scarlet never said anything about letting Kestrel leave, leading to the new Skywing mother attempting to flee with her fire scale dragonet; Only for her talons to become burnt to the point of no longer being able to hold her dragonet (having to wear wrappings to continue being able to hold things), forcing her to flee with her dragonet left to be taken by Scarlet. Kestrel would attempt to find any sign of her Featherwing dragonet but lose hope when she finds that the river she tossed them into flows into a plummeting waterfall with no sign of the dragonet; Leaving her to decide to join the Talons of Peace but not before making one last trip to see Asha who would go with Kestrel in joining the Talons of Peace.

While part of the Talons of Peace, Kestrel would become known among the group as one of their best fighters; working closely with Talons members Asha, Hvitur and Avalanche (being of the only few that could get passed her temper) as well as being selected to ensure the safety of the Dragonets of Destiny and their Minders Asha, Hvitur, Webs and Dune. Something that would take a turn in Asha, Hvitur and the Skywing egg being lost (Webs going out to get steal a Rainwing to take the lost egg’s place in the dragonets), leaving Kestrel to fill in their place as minder (wearing Hvitur’s scarf with Asha’s earring hooked into it in remembrance of the two).

During his early life, Dune would bear an enthusiasm that would be squashed with the destruction of one of his wings and the loss of a leg, leaving only the desire for the war to just be done with. Something he would believe he found in a chance encounter with Morrowseer looking for a Sandwing egg for the dragonet prophecy in secret (as well as Stonemover); Convincing Dune to steal away the egg of his friend Thorn for the Prophecy, leading to him becoming one of the Dragonet of Destiny Minders.

While Kestrel (giving combat training) and Dune (giving hunting training) would raise the Dragonets as their Minders; Kestrel herself doing this through tiger parenting, pushing Clay to be a fierce Bigwing like his aunt Asha and give Skywing combat tutoring to Tsunami who would grow a rebellious streak against her minders as she got older (The dragonets as well as Dune and Webs would occasionally comment how Kestrel and Tsunami similarly act, something the two would deny in similar ways). Dune himself would be grouchy and tough grow a fondness for the others under the mountain over the years that he would only really show to Sunny (as well as to Kestrel in private) and take up more of a nocturnal sleep schedule over the years as he tutor's Starflight on the side (becoming a bit of a father figure to the young Nightwing dragonet). Kestrel and Dune would raise Glory to be a Skying dragonet for the prophecy after learning of her color changing (Glory herself would pick up a habit of just keeping a Skywing coloration from this).

-

Webs: Before being part of the Talons of Peace, Webs was a healer and trusted friend of King Gill. With a wonderful wife and son, Webs would believe that everything would be fine, until he stumbled across princess Blister and her Secret alliance with Morrowseer, Whirlpool and Queen Scarlet. They wouldn't kill Webs as it would raise unwanted suspicion with Gill, instead they would subtly force him to join the efforts to raise the Dragonets of Destiny with the threat of his wife and son being killed if her doesn't. Not wanting anything to happen to him, Webs would comply and steal away the Seawing egg of Tsunami from the Royal Hatchery and join the other minders in raising the Dragonets of Destiny in isolation. He would also go on to steal the Rainwing egg of Glory from the Rainforest after the loss of the Skywing egg for the prophecy.

Webs would be tasked with teaching the dragonets about the history of the Succession War (as well as other important things) to make a choice on which of the Royal sisters would take the throne (preferably Blister by those who sent him). He would take monthly trips down to South Den on the shores of Southern Scales to safely learn what has been going on with the war at present to teach the dragonets as well as stock up on provisions and new scrolls (much to Starflight's delight) for the others back under the mountain (Kestrel and Dune would have Webs keep an eye on the dragonets whenever he got back so they could both have time away together). During one of these trips while passing through Jade Mountain for a place to rest, Webs would stumble across Stonemover and his skulk of oddly intelligent foxes. After that point, Webs would go through Jade Mountain to make a visit to Stonemover and his fox skulk whenever he would make his monthly trip; Forming somewhat of a good friendship with the group that wouldn't really go that deep.

When it comes time for the minders to kill Glory under orders from Morrowseer (having followed the massive Nightwing’s as to not get killed with nowhere safe to go even if they did survive), Webs (enduring through apprehension of what would happen to his wife and son back in the Kingdom of Sea, even after all these years) would eventually bring up the idea of the minders running away with the dragonets so they wouldn’t have to kill Glory (Something Kestrel and Dune would initially reject at first due to them being fugitives with nowhere else to properly hid, but would come to accept the idea with a growing suspicion of why Morrowseer didn’t just take the dragonets he saw as worthy with him as well as Webs bringing up how Jade Mountain could be a good place for them to hide). The plan Webs would make with him, Kestrel and Dune rounding up all the dragonets, as well as unchain Tsunami (partially under the orders of Morrowseer so the young Seawing wouldn’t attempt to escape before he got back), at which point they begin their move to Jade Mountain where they would hide with a friend of Webs (Stonemover) until it was time to enact the prophecy. A plan that would be derailed with finding the dragonets have broken out Tsunami who has escaped through the underwater with Clay to break out the other dragonets from outside. Webs would go after the two dragonets through the underwater river and leave Kestrel and Dune to round up Sunny, Starflight and an invisibly hiding Glory for the trip (Kestrel herself would leave Dune deal with rounding up the three dragonets himself while she would go attempt to cut off Tsunami and Clay’s path of escape as well as get something for the group to quickly eat for the trip).

-

Clay (Our Perspective): During his time being raised under the mountain, Clay would be a caring Bigwing to the other dragonets (taking an interest in scrolls about healing brought by Webs so he could help whoever the other dragonets got injured); Something he would have trouble doing with Kestrel pushing him to be a fierce Bigwing like his Aunt Asha (Kestrel would use her flame breath to mend Clay's surface level wounds after a combat session due to being hatched from a blood red egg allowing him to mend his wounds with intense heat and forgo needing mud to do so like other Mudwings, though the process would cause him pain that she would see as toughening him up). It's only when it is his hatching day that he (as well as the other dragonets) would get a bit of leniency from Kestrel (with convincing from Dune and Webs) in what the dragonets can do that single day. Something that wouldn’t be for their sixth hatching day as Morrowseer would make an unexpected appearance, leading to Clay and the other dragonets not having the day for themselves and Tsunami being chained up. Clay would spy on the minders once Morrowseer left and after seeing Kestrel seeming willingness to kill Glory for Morrowseer as well as her and Dune’s initial rejection to running away with the dragonets, Clay would sneak back to the other dragonets.

With Clay telling the other dragonets of what he overheard (unaware of the Minders actual plan), the dragonets would go with an idea proposed by Tsunami many times before (being the rebellious dragonet she is) and make their own escape without the Minders, this time with the weight of saving Glory from being supposedly killed by Kestrel. They would be quick to work getting Tsunami out of her chains, burning some of the scrolls they have (much to Starflight’s dismay) and create flames to heat up the chains binding Tsunami with help from Clay’s flame breath from being warmed up himself; Allowing them to bend apart the chains binding Tsunami and free her. Following this, Clay and Tsunami would travel through to find an exit to help the others escape from the outside (being led by Tsunami who somewhat knows the underground river passages from sneaking away when everyone else is asleep and Webs is away traveling), but not before seeing Glory turn invisible to hide and not get caught by the minders and having the idea to make a smoke signal for Tsunami and Clay to find a way back to the others.

Eventually, with a bit of trouble for Clay while traveling through cold underwater caves, he and Tsunami would succeed in escaping through the underground river and find themselves in the outside world. The two would take a rest to gather themselves and take in the night sky for a short period before making their way to break the others out, a rest that would be interrupted by the appearance of Webs (figuring out with the other minders that the two were escaping through the underground river, taking chase after them and quickly catching up to them from being both more knowledgeable on the underwater passages as well as being a more experienced swimmer than the two). Webs would slow down the two long enough to explain about his plan that he convinced the other minders of doing in running away with the dragonets, something that the two (especially Tsunami) wouldn’t really be convinced of as true with their minders general attitude towards the dragonets. Their conversation would be cut short as they would have unexpected company in Queen Scarlet with an entourage of guards, said guards proceeding to subdue the three of them under Scarlets orders. Clay would be given a painful choice by Scarlet (seeing him care for the two Seawings), choose one of the Seawings to die and she’ll let the other live. Clay wouldn’t be able to make a choice, not wanting to see either of them die (much to Scarlet’s thrilling enjoyment). Eventually Scarlet would make the choice for Clay (becoming irritated at how long it is taking him) and force him and Tsunami to watch as she pierces Webs neck and leave him to squirm freely on the ground as he bleeds out, crawling away into the river they are next to (talons latched firmly to his neck as his hand covers his wound to prevent himself from bleeding severely) and passing out as his body begins drifting down river, seemingly dead. Clay would be shocked by this sudden turn of events, even more so not long after as Scarlets guards would be ambushed by Kestrel (having to take a longer path to catch the dragonet) and allowing Clay and Tsunami to make an escape (Tsunami herself taking charge as Clay is getting is getting his bearings together).

Clay with Tsunami would find the smoke signal the others made and make their way back to Sunny and Starflight with Dune (Glory would stick to staying invisible). The Dragonets and Dune would attempt to gather themselves to escape after the news of Webs death, but they would be cut off by Scarlet and a majority of her guards (Leaving some to deal with a captured Kestrel, thinking the former champion has gotten rusty watching dragonets). The dragonets would be subdued by Scarlet’s Guards (much to the dismay of Dune valiantly attempting to protect them, being subdued himself), being interrupted by Kestrel making a sudden return (covered in blood that is mostly not her own). A deal would be attempted by Kestrel for Scarlet to take her and let the others go, something the queen would deny as she snaps Dune’s neck (leaving Sunny to grieve for Dune and enraging Kestrel greatly for what Scarlet had done). Clay would watch as Kestrel would attempt to strike at Scarlet who would be protected by her guards, allowing Tsunami to break free and help the other dragonets. Something that wouldn’t last with Kestrel and Tsunami being knocked out by the guards who would knockout Clay, Starflight and Sunny as well (not taking any chances).

[novaursa]

The Flames We Loved (to mend)

This is one of my darker works. If it's not your cup of tea, skip it. The story gets progressively worse with each chapter. You have been warned.

- Summary: It started with Harrenhal and the year of false spring, where you danced with a dragon trying to calm his flames.

- Paring: daughter!reader/father!Aerys II Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: to break

- Next part: to devour

After your return to the Red Keep, the shift in the court’s atmosphere is palpable. The months you spent on Dragonstone left a void that even Aerys couldn’t fill, and the court had been teetering on the edge of chaos in your absence. Now, with your presence once again by Aerys’s side, the lords and ladies of King’s Landing watch you closely, their gazes a mixture of curiosity, relief, and thinly veiled apprehension.

Aerys, for all his volatility, has been calmer since your return. His rages, though still present, have lost some of their venom. The courtiers notice, of course—they always do—and many of them now hover around you, hoping that your proximity to the king will provide them a shield from his unpredictable wrath. The whispers that trail behind you in the halls are endless, but you’ve grown accustomed to the constant buzz of court politics. You know how to navigate this world, though it feels like you’ve been walking through a storm for far too long.

The hall is full today, a gathering of the court meant to address various matters of the realm. You stand beside Aerys, your expression carefully composed, as you listen to the lords debate over trade routes and taxes. Aerys is distracted, his fingers drumming impatiently on the arm of his throne. You can feel the annoyance building in him, and you brace yourself for the inevitable outburst.

It comes swiftly. One of the lords—a minor bannerman from the Reach—mentions something about the finances of the crown, and Aerys’s hand slams down on the armrest, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

“Finances? You dare speak of finances in my presence as though you have any grasp of what it takes to rule this kingdom?” Aerys’s eyes are wild, his face flushed with anger. “You are all leeches, feeding off my court, my power, and you dare suggest that I—the blood of the dragon—am in need of your advice?”

The court falls silent, and you can feel the collective breath of those gathered around you. The lord in question stammers out an apology, his face pale as Aerys glares down at him from the throne. But before the king can continue, you gently place your hand on his arm, a soft touch meant to ground him.

“Father,” you say softly, your voice calm and measured. “The lord meant no offense. Perhaps it would be better to hear more of his proposal. For the good of the realm.”

Aerys’s eyes flick to you, and for a moment, you see the fire in them burning bright. But then, just as quickly, it dims. Your presence has always had a way of soothing him, and today is no different. He exhales sharply, his hand relaxing under your touch.

“Very well,” Aerys mutters, waving a hand dismissively. “Continue, then. But be quick about it.”

The lord, visibly relieved, continues his explanation, though his voice shakes slightly. You stay by Aerys’s side, your hand lingering on his arm just long enough to ensure that his temper won’t flare again. The tension in the room slowly ebbs, but you know it will never fully disappear. Aerys’s mood is always volatile, and no matter how carefully you tread, the danger remains.

As the discussion continues, you catch sight of Rhaegar across the room. His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, and there’s a shared understanding between you. Since your return, your interactions with him have been few, always in public, always measured. But he knows what you endure, just as you know what he carries. The weight of it all presses down on both of you, but there is little either of you can do to change your circumstances.

Once the council session ends, Aerys dismisses the court with a wave of his hand, clearly uninterested in the remaining matters. As the courtiers begin to disperse, you step away from Aerys’s side, your mind already racing with the many faces and conversations you must now navigate. Even after your absence, the courtiers are quick to approach you again, eager to secure favor or gain insight into the king’s mood.

Cersei Lannister is one of the first to approach, her golden hair gleaming in the sunlight that filters through the high windows of the hall. She moves with the confidence of someone who has always been aware of her beauty and the power it grants her, but there is something sharper in her gaze when she looks at you.

“Princess,” Cersei says, her voice smooth as silk, though you can hear the edge beneath her words. “It is such a relief to have you back in court. The king has been... restless without you.”

You meet her gaze, refusing to rise to the bait. “I’m sure the court managed in my absence,” you reply, your tone polite but distant. “Though I’m certain you were more than capable of filling the void, Lady Cersei.”

Cersei’s smile tightens just slightly, though she doesn’t let it drop. “I did what I could,” she says sweetly. “But there are certain... needs that only you can satisfy.”

The insinuation is clear, and it stings, but you don’t allow it to show on your face. You’ve learned how to navigate these moments, how to mask the hurt and keep your composure.

“I serve the king in all things,” you say, your voice steady. “As we all do.”

Cersei’s eyes flash with something—perhaps irritation at your refusal to engage more deeply—but she nods, her smile still fixed in place. “Of course.”

She steps away, and as she does, you feel the weight of her gaze lingering on you. There are many in court who see you as a key to controlling Aerys, and you know that Cersei is one of them. But she is not the only one. Others will approach soon, each with their own agenda, their own ambitions.

For now, you take a moment to breathe, to center yourself in the midst of the chaos. You’ve returned to court, but the challenges that await you are only beginning. Aerys’s moods will continue to shift, the lords will continue to seek your favor, and the court will never stop whispering. But you will endure. You always have.

You sit astride your horse, the sound of hooves striking the stone courtyard beneath you as Aerys leads you out of the Red Keep’s gates. His horse is a large black stallion, sleek and powerful, its mane flying back in the wind as it picks up speed. Your own mount, a silver-gray mare, moves more gracefully, its smooth gait a comfort as you follow close behind him. The city of King’s Landing is already fading behind you, the noise of the bustling streets growing distant as the open road stretches ahead.

Behind you, Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Barristan Selmy trail on horseback at a respectful distance, their presence a silent reminder of the world you’re leaving behind, if only for a short while. The wind picks up, carrying the scent of the sea, mingling with the earthiness of the land beyond the city.

You urge your mare forward slightly, pulling up alongside Aerys, who rides with a surprising ease given his usual temper. His face, for once, is calm, though there’s a restless energy about him that never quite disappears.

“Where are we going, Father?” you ask, glancing at him.

Aerys’s eyes remain fixed on the path ahead, his jaw tight, but there’s a flicker of something lighter in his voice when he answers. “Away from the city. Away from the vultures.”

You don’t need to ask what he means. The court, with all its scheming and whispering, has grown more unbearable for him in recent moons, even with your return. The lords and ladies of King’s Landing may fear him, but they are still vultures in his eyes—picking at his rule, his power, always watching for a weakness.

You ride in silence for a moment, taking in the countryside. The hills stretch out before you, rolling and peaceful, a far cry from the tension of the Red Keep. But even here, you can’t help but feel a lingering unease. Aerys is unpredictable, and though he seems calm now, you never know when that calm will break.

“Shouldn’t we have more of an escort?” you ask, casting a glance behind you at Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan. Two members of the Kingsguard, no matter how capable, seem too few for a king and his daughter.

Aerys chuckles softly, though there’s an edge to it. “An escort?” he repeats, his tone almost mocking. “You think I need more protection? From what, Y/N? My enemies cower in the shadows. No one would dare lay a hand on me.”

His confidence is absolute, and you know better than to argue. But still, the thought nags at you—there are always dangers lurking, even for kings. Especially for kings.

“We are dragons,” Aerys adds, his eyes flashing as he turns to you. “And the world fears us, as it should.”

You nod, though the unease doesn’t leave you. Aerys, for all his bravado, is not invincible. And neither are you.

The ride continues in relative silence, the only sounds the steady beat of the horses’ hooves and the distant cry of seabirds. The sun begins to dip lower in the sky, and you wonder where Aerys intends to take you. He often acts on impulse, led by whims and moods that shift like the wind.

You glance back at Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan again, their eyes scanning the horizon, ever vigilant. They, too, know the unpredictability of the king. Yet, they follow without question, their loyalty absolute.

For a brief moment, you allow yourself to enjoy the ride, the sense of freedom that comes with being away from the prying eyes of the court. But the feeling is fleeting, overshadowed by the ever-present knowledge that, no matter how far you ride, you are never truly free. 

The shadows of the Kingswood deepen as you and Aerys ride farther into the thick forest, the sunlight filtering weakly through the dense canopy above. The air grows cooler, the peaceful rhythm of your horse’s hooves muffled by the thick undergrowth. The quiet, once serene, now feels heavier with each passing moment, and you can’t shake the unease settling in your chest.

Ser Gerold, ever vigilant, brings his horse alongside as you slow slightly, his expression tight with concern. “Your Grace,” he begins, his voice low but firm, “the Kingswood isn’t safe after nightfall. We should turn back before the light fades.”

Aerys doesn’t even glance at him, his expression sharp and determined. “Safe? You think I fear the dark, Gerold? Or the creatures that roam here? Nothing in these woods will dare challenge us.”

He pulls the reins of his stallion sharply and pushes his horse forward, deeper into the thickening forest. You feel your own breath quicken, the sense of danger growing as you watch him disappear further into the Kingswood, moving recklessly without a thought for the warnings. You urge your mare to follow, the ground beneath you uneven and the foliage growing denser with every step.

“Father, wait!” you call out, but your voice is swallowed by the trees. Your mare leaps over a fallen log, her hooves thudding against the packed earth as you push her harder, determined not to lose sight of Aerys.

The Kingsguard, Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan, struggle to keep pace, their horses slower under the weight of their armor, their movements hindered by the thick branches and underbrush. You catch a glimpse of them, their faces etched with worry as they fall farther behind. You can hear the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs underfoot, but the sound of their horses fades into the distance, leaving you and Aerys alone in the heart of the forest.

You finally catch up to Aerys, your mare pulling alongside his stallion. The thick forest surrounds you both, the air filled with the scent of pine and damp earth. Aerys’s expression is wild, a manic gleam in his eyes as he surveys the woods around him.

“We’ll hunt here,” he says suddenly, his voice filled with excitement, as if the warnings of Ser Gerold were nothing more than idle chatter. “The Kingswood is full of game—deer, wild boar. We’ll make a kill, Y/N. Just you and me.”

The words send a chill through you. You’ve hunted before, of course, but never like this. The forest feels more like a trap than a place of sport, the looming trees and thick undergrowth closing in around you. The thrill that sparks in Aerys’s eyes unsettles you, and you feel the weight of the moment pressing down.

“Are you sure this is wise?” you ask, keeping your voice steady even as the unease tightens in your chest. “It’s almost nightfall. We should head back.”

Aerys laughs, dismissive as ever, his confidence absolute. “You worry too much, Y/N. This is what it means to be free—to hunt, to live beyond the confines of the court. You should relish it.”

Before you can say anything more, Aerys digs his heels into the stallion’s flanks, urging the horse forward at a breakneck speed, deeper into the woods. His laughter rings out through the trees, echoing as he disappears into the growing shadows.

With no choice but to follow, you grip the reins tightly and press your mare onward, your heart pounding in your chest. The foliage thickens, branches whipping at your arms as you weave through the dense undergrowth. The sounds of the Kingsguard are gone now, and it’s just you and Aerys, lost in the darkening woods.

The shadows stretch longer, and the sky above dims with the approach of nightfall. You push your mare harder, her breath coming in labored bursts as she leaps over another fallen branch. The Kingswood swallows you whole, and the only thing keeping you from losing your way entirely is the occasional glimpse of Aerys’s black stallion ahead.

“Father, slow down!” you call, but your voice is lost in the thicket.

You know, deep down, that whatever Aerys is chasing in these woods, it’s not just game—it’s something darker, something that drives him beyond the bounds of reason. And as you ride deeper into the heart of the Kingswood, you can only hope that you won’t be swallowed by it as well.

You pull hard on the reins, bringing your mare to a sudden halt as you realize that Aerys is no longer in sight. The dense trees and underbrush have swallowed him whole, leaving you alone in the growing darkness of the Kingswood. Your heart races, and for a moment, you sit frozen in the saddle, trying to steady your breath and listen for any sign of movement. But there’s nothing. No sound of hooves, no rustling branches—just silence.

“Aerys!” you call out, your voice strained, but the sound only seems to be absorbed by the forest around you. “Father!”

Nothing.

You try again, this time calling for the Kingsguard. “Ser Gerold! Ser Barristan!”

Still, no reply. The oppressive quiet presses in on you, and the shadows grow longer, creeping over the forest floor as the last light of the day fades. You scan the trees around you, looking for any familiar landmark, anything that might tell you where you are, but it all looks the same—dark, tangled, and unfamiliar.

You feel your mare shift beneath you, her breathing heavy, and you know she’s as nervous as you are. You urge her forward slowly, your eyes straining to make out anything in the dim light. But the more you move, the more disoriented you become. The forest feels endless, the trees towering overhead like silent sentinels.

Your heart pounds as you come to a stop again. You can’t keep wandering blindly—if you do, you’ll only get more lost. Dismounting, you pat your mare’s neck in an attempt to calm both her and yourself. You try to push down the rising sense of panic as you begin to lead her through the thick underbrush, your feet crunching softly on the leaves beneath you.

After a short distance, you find a small clearing, just enough space for you and your horse to settle for the night. There’s no sense in continuing on in the dark, and you know you’ll need warmth and light to feel any semblance of safety out here.

You quickly tie your mare to a nearby tree, securing her as best you can, before scanning the area for branches and dry wood. You gather what you can find, working quickly but methodically, focusing on the task to keep the fear at bay. The forest around you is still and quiet, save for the occasional hoot of an owl or the distant rustle of leaves. But the silence weighs on you, heavy and thick, making it hard to concentrate.

Finally, with enough wood gathered, you crouch down and strike two flints together, sparks flying into the kindling. It takes a few tries, but eventually, the dry branches catch, and the small flicker of flame grows into a modest fire. The warmth it gives off is immediate, and you sit back, rubbing your hands together as you stare into the flames.

Aerys had taught you how to start a fire like this when you were children—back when he was still more father than king, when he would show you and Rhaegar the simple tricks of survival. It feels like a lifetime ago now, those brief moments of tenderness and normalcy buried beneath the weight of everything that has happened since. Now, the memory feels distant, almost surreal.

As the fire crackles softly, your thoughts turn to Aerys, and a wave of worry washes over you. He had rushed off recklessly, his mind driven by some unseen impulse, and now he was somewhere out there in the darkness. You’ve seen him like this before—impulsive, unpredictable—but being lost in the Kingswood at night is no place for anyone, not even him.

What if something has happened to him? What if he’s hurt or worse, and you’re not there to stop it? The thought sends a chill down your spine, and you bite your lip, trying to push the worry aside. But it’s no use. The fear lingers.

And what of Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold? Did they lose track of you both, or are they still searching? Perhaps they’ve returned to King’s Landing to get help, realizing that the king’s reckless behavior had led them all astray. You don’t know, and the uncertainty gnaws at you.

You sit by the fire, your mind racing with possibilities, the flickering flames casting shadows around you. Alone in the woods, with only the warmth of the fire to keep the fear at bay, you feel the weight of everything pressing down on you. You can only hope that Aerys is safe—somewhere out there, in the darkness. But as the night deepens, and the silence of the forest settles in, you can’t shake the feeling that something is watching, waiting just beyond the light of the fire.

Your mare begins to shift uneasily, her ears flicking back and forth as she lets out a nervous snort. You can feel the tension in her muscles, and before you can react, the sharp sound of a wolf’s howl pierces the night air. It’s too close. Too close.

Your heart lurches, and you instinctively grab for your sword, drawing the blade from its scabbard. The fire crackles weakly beside you, but it won’t be enough to ward off what’s coming. You quickly toss more branches into the flames, stoking it higher, the light flaring as it spits embers into the air.

Your breath comes faster now, your pulse hammering in your ears as you scan the dark trees around you, trying to determine where the sound came from. The shadows seem to shift, and your grip tightens on the hilt of your sword as you turn in place, searching for movement.

Another howl splits the air—this one even closer—and your mare jerks at the reins, her panic growing as she pulls against the tree where she’s tied. You can feel the ground vibrate beneath you as the wolves move through the woods, circling, their growls low and menacing.

You’re surrounded.

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, your eyes darting from one shadow to the next. The fire flickers, throwing long, jagged shapes across the trees, and your horse rears up, her fear getting the better of her.

There’s no time. You rush to her side, slicing the reins free with your sword, letting her loose. “Go!” you shout, giving her a slap on the flank to send her off into the woods. She bolts, hooves pounding against the earth as she disappears into the darkness.

The wolves are upon you almost immediately. You catch the flash of yellow eyes in the darkness, the glint of sharp teeth bared in a snarl. The first one leaps toward you from the right, and you barely have time to turn your blade, slashing at its side. It yelps and falls back, but another wolf lunges from behind, teeth snapping dangerously close to your leg.

You whirl around, your sword cutting through the air, striking the wolf across the muzzle. It recoils, blood splattering the ground as it retreats with a snarl, but more are coming. You can hear their growls all around you now, their forms slipping through the shadows like predators closing in on wounded prey.

One leaps at your side, jaws digging into your arm as you turn too late. You scream in pain as the force of the attack knocks you off balance, but you manage to drive your sword into its side, the wolf letting out a final yelp before collapsing to the ground.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, pain radiating from your arm and shoulder as blood trickles down your sleeve. But there’s no time to stop, no time to feel the full weight of your injuries. Another wolf charges from the front, and you swing your blade with all your remaining strength, cutting deep into its flank. It falls, but not before its teeth rake across your thigh, the sting sharp and hot.

You stagger backward, your legs trembling from the effort, but there’s still one more—the largest one.

It emerges from the shadows slowly, as if it knows you’re already worn down. Its eyes gleam in the firelight, and its growl is low and rumbling, a sound that seems to vibrate through your bones. Blood drips from its fangs as it stalks closer, circling you with predatory grace.

You grip your sword tightly, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you stare the beast down. Your body screams in protest from the injuries you’ve already sustained, but you can’t stop now. You can’t let this be the end.

The fire crackles behind you, casting flickering shadows over the clearing as the massive wolf takes another step forward, its gaze locked onto yours.

And then, it lunges.

Its massive form hurtling toward you faster than you can react knocking the sword out of your hands. Its jaws snap down at the base of your neck, just above your shoulder, teeth sinking into flesh as a searing pain rips through you. You cry out, struggling beneath the weight of the beast as its teeth narrowly miss your artery, the bite sinking deep but not fatal.

For a split second, the world blurs around you, and all you can feel is the fire of pain coursing through your body. The wolf’s growl reverberates against your skin, vibrating through your bones as it pins you beneath its weight, blood running down your neck. Desperate, you scramble for the dagger hidden in your boot, your fingers slipping as you finally grip the hilt and yank it free.

With a surge of strength born from sheer survival, you drive the dagger into the wolf’s side, sinking the blade deep. The beast lets out a sharp yelp of pain, its jaws releasing you as it stumbles backward, blood dripping from the wound. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, every muscle in your body screaming in agony, but you push yourself up, gripping the sliced reins from your mare where they lie in the dirt.

The wolf circles again, slower this time but still lethal, its eyes locked on you with a vicious hunger. You know it will attack again, and you have little left to defend yourself. Blood drips from your neck, your legs tremble, and your vision blurs at the edges, but you grit your teeth, clutching the reins in your shaking hands.

As the wolf lunges a second time, you sidestep, quicker than you thought possible given the pain, and loop the reins around its thick neck. The beast snarls, thrashing as it realizes too late what you’ve done. You hold on, teeth gritted, pulling with all your strength, using the reins to tighten the loop around its throat. The animal thrashes wildly, its claws digging into the earth as it tries to free itself, but you hold fast, forcing the reins tighter with every ounce of strength you have left.

The wolf’s struggles weaken, its breath coming in harsh, wheezing gasps as it claws at the ground. Your arms burn, your wounds ache, but you don’t let go. You can’t. Slowly, agonizingly, the beast’s strength fades, its body going limp as the last of its breath leaves it.

You stand there, panting and trembling, the bloodied reins still in your hands, as the weight of the battle finally crashes down on you. The wolf lies motionless at your feet, its eyes dull and lifeless. You look down at the reins in your hands, slick with blood, and your heart twists painfully in your chest.

You stand there, breathless, covered in blood—yours and the wolf’s—as the fire flickers weakly beside you, casting ghastly shadows over the silent clearing. The fight is over, but the wounds—both physical and emotional—remain.

You stand over the lifeless wolf, your body trembling from the exhaustion and pain. The forest has fallen eerily silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing and the crackling of the fire. But then, a faint noise reaches your ears—something moving through the underbrush, something being dragged.

Your heart skips a beat, panic threatening to rise again as you turn toward the sound. Your grip tightens on your bloodied sword, bracing yourself for whatever might be coming. But as the figure emerges from the darkness, you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Aerys steps into the clearing, his face and robes streaked with blood, dragging the limp body of a dead doe behind him. The sight of him—disheveled, wild-eyed, and equally bloodied as you—sends a wave of relief crashing over you, though it’s quickly followed by a fresh surge of dread. He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the chaos that surrounds your campsite—the dead wolves, the blood-soaked ground, and you, standing in the center of it all.

For a moment, he doesn’t speak, simply taking it all in. And then, almost unexpectedly, his eyes soften, and his mouth curves into a rare, genuine smile.

“You survived,” he says quietly, as if that were the only thing that mattered. He drops the doe to the ground with a dull thud, blood staining the leaves beneath it, and strides toward you, his eyes never leaving yours.

The pain and exhaustion of the night’s events finally catch up to you, and before you can stop yourself, you rush to him, needing the comfort of his presence, despite everything. The relief of seeing him alive, here, is overwhelming. You collapse against his chest, your arms wrapping around him, and for once, Aerys doesn’t recoil or pull away. He holds you, his embrace strangely gentle as his bloodstained hands rest on your back.

“You did well, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, as if this rare moment of calm has smoothed over the madness that usually clings to him. “You fought. You survived. The wolves are dead, and you are alive.”

You bury your face in his chest, your body trembling as you finally allow yourself to feel the weight of it all—the fear, the pain, the battle. Aerys’s hand strokes your hair, a rare, almost fatherly gesture, and for a brief moment, you let yourself believe in the comfort he offers.

But the moment passes, and Aerys pulls back, his hands gently gripping your shoulders as he looks you over, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the blood still trickling from the wound at your neck.

“Sit,” he commands, his voice regaining its sharp edge. He leads you back to the fire, his grip firm but not unkind. “I will tend to you.”

You lower yourself to the ground next to the fire, your body aching with every movement. Aerys kneels beside you, his face illuminated by the flickering light, his expression unreadable. You watch as he pulls a dagger from his belt, its blade already stained with blood. He holds it over the fire, the metal heating quickly, glowing faintly orange as the flames lick at it.

You don’t need to ask what he’s about to do. The realization sends a jolt of fear through you, but you don’t flinch, even as your body tenses in anticipation of the pain.

“This will hurt,” Aerys says, his tone cold and clinical now, as if he were speaking of something distant and impersonal. He meets your eyes briefly, something almost like regret flickering there before it vanishes.

Before you can brace yourself, he presses the hot blade to the wound at the base of your neck. The searing pain is immediate, white-hot, radiating from the wound as the heat burns the flesh and cauterizes the bleeding. You clench your teeth, biting down hard to stifle the scream that rises in your throat, but the pain is overwhelming.

Your nails dig into Aerys’s arm, the only thing keeping you anchored as the agony rips through you. His arm is rigid under your grip, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away. Instead, he holds the blade steady, burning away the blood with precision.

The smell of burning flesh fills the air, and the pain is so intense you can barely think, barely breathe. Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You refuse to give in to the pain, not here, not now.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Aerys removes the blade. The heat leaves your skin in a dull, aching throb, the worst of the pain subsiding into a sharp, relentless sting. You sit there, panting, your nails still dug into his arm as the world slowly rights itself again.

Aerys wipes the blade clean on the grass beside him, his face unreadable. “It’s done,” he says, his voice as cool and composed as ever, as if the moment of tenderness between you had never happened.

You release your grip on his arm, your fingers shaking slightly as you sit back, the warmth of the fire doing little to ease the cold that has settled deep in your bones. The pain still lingers, a reminder of what you’ve endured, but the worst is over.

For now.

You sit there, the fire crackling quietly between you and Aerys, the throbbing pain in your neck slowly dulling, though the burn still lingers beneath your skin. The forest around you feels heavier now, darker, and you can’t shake the sense that you’re still being watched, that the wolves might not have been the only threat lurking in the Kingswood tonight.

“What do we do now?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended, your gaze drifting from the fire to the shadowed trees. “It’ll be difficult to find our way back in the dark, and the blood…” You glance down at the smeared blood on your clothes, both yours and the wolves’. “It may attract more predators.”

Aerys doesn’t seem bothered by your concerns. He settles himself next to you, his movements slow and deliberate, as if the chaos of the night hasn’t touched him. He stares into the fire, its glow reflecting in his eyes. For a moment, he doesn’t answer, and you wonder if he’s even heard you.

“We’ll be fine,” Aerys says finally, his voice calm and composed. He stretches his legs out before him, his hand brushing against the dirt as if the woods were no more dangerous than the halls of the Red Keep. “No predators will come near. Not after this.” His eyes flick toward the dead wolves, a glint of satisfaction in his expression.

His confidence unnerves you. It’s as if the dangers of the forest don’t apply to him, as if the rules of the natural world bend to his will. You want to believe him, want to let yourself relax, but the knot of tension in your stomach refuses to ease.

You sit in silence for a while, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant rustle of leaves in the wind. The darkness around you feels like it’s pressing in, but Aerys remains still, unconcerned, as though the night holds no threat to him.

After a few moments, you glance toward the doe, its lifeless body lying at the edge of the clearing. “How did you kill it?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop yourself. The thought had been gnawing at you since he appeared, dragging the dead animal behind him. “The doe… How did you manage?”

Aerys turns his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The hunt isn’t just about brute strength,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “It’s about patience. Waiting for the right moment. It saw me before I was ready, but I outwaited it. I let it think it was safe.” His eyes gleam in the firelight, the satisfaction clear in his voice. “Then, when it wasn’t looking, I struck.”

There’s a strange, almost predatory pride in his voice, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You try to picture him out there, stalking the doe in the darkness, waiting with that eerie stillness of his before bringing it down. It’s unsettling, but you know Aerys well enough to know that everything he does is calculated, deliberate.

You nod slowly, unsure how to respond, unsure whether to praise him for his skill or be unnerved by the cold satisfaction in his voice.

“You shouldn’t worry,” he adds after a moment, his gaze still fixed on the fire. “You and I—we’re dragons. This forest is nothing compared to what we’ve faced. The blood of the dragon isn’t meant to cower in the dark.”

His words are meant to reassure you, but they don’t. Instead, they remind you of the unpredictable force that lives inside him—the same force that brought him here, into the dark woods, as if testing the limits of his power over life and death.

You nod again, though the knot of unease in your stomach remains. You’re not sure what frightens you more—the wolves, the darkness around you, or the man sitting beside you, speaking of hunts and patience with that gleam in his eye.

The scent of the blood lingers in the air, a stark reminder of the hunt that had just ended. Aerys sits beside you, his gaze fixed on the fire, but you feel his attention shift. Slowly, inevitably, his hand finds your thigh, fingers curling possessively against the fabric of your riding outfit. It's not the first time, nor will it be the last.

“You were magnificent today,” Aerys murmurs, voice low, that familiar spark in his eyes as he turns to look at you. His smile is thin, predatory, a reflection of the madness you know too well. It doesn’t scare you—not anymore. If anything, it pulls you deeper into him, like the darkness that threatens to swallow both of you whole. His hand lingers, traveling upwards in a slow, deliberate stroke, and you tense only for a moment before you allow yourself to lean into his touch.

You glance at him, and the need in his eyes, once smoldering, now burns fiercely. It's a look you've grown accustomed to, a fervor that matches his descent into madness. You used to find comfort in it, but now... now, it terrifies and thrills you all the same.

Your thoughts drift, unbidden, to Viserys, your four-month-old son—his son. A secret too dangerous to speak, a truth buried beneath layers of lies and deceit. You can't claim him, can never hold him as your own. He’s raised as Rhaella’s boy, though she barely touches him. He’s yours, though you can't breathe a word of it. Everything you've sacrificed for Aerys—your life, your body, your very soul—it all stretches before you like a trail of bloodied footsteps. And still, you know you'll sacrifice more before it's over.

Aerys’s hand moves higher, pulling you back into the moment. His fingers tighten, and before you can react, his lips are on yours—hungry, demanding, tasting the metallic tang of blood still on your lips from the wolves earlier. You respond instantly, as you always do. It's a dance you both know too well, a twisted reflection of the love and devotion you once felt for the man before you. Your mouth opens under his, the heat of the fire mirrored by the warmth spreading through you, a heat you can’t deny.

He pulls back, his breath heavy against your lips, his hands already moving to undo the lower parts of his attire. There's no hesitation in his movements, no gentleness. This is what it’s always been between you—raw, consuming, and as inevitable as the madness in his eyes. You move with him, helping him fumble with the clasps and belts, until his skin presses against yours.

The firelight flickers, casting the briefest glow on the blood moon that hangs low in the sky as Aerys lowers you to the ground. The stretch as he enters you is familiar, a heat that coils low in your belly, pulling a moan from your lips. His hands find your hips, holding you in place as he begins to move, his rhythm rough and needy. The words that spill from his lips are crude, a mixture of reverence and command as he takes what is his—what he’s always claimed as his.

Your fingers grasp the earth, anchoring yourself in the madness, but you move with him, your body rising to meet his, knowing your role in this dance. His movements grow more frantic, more desperate, and you match him, moans turning to gasps as pleasure and pain intermingle, the familiar sting of desire flooding your veins.

His breath is hot against your ear, and you catch fragments of his words—something about being his, about never letting you go, about how you are the only one who could ever calm the storm inside him. You don't know if it's true anymore, but you play your part, whispering his name as he claims you, your gaze lifting one last time to the blood moon that watches over the two of you.

The sky is stained red, and for a moment, you wonder if the gods are watching, if they see what you’ve become. But the thought slips away as Aerys moves faster, his grip tightening. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the familiar madness, knowing there is no escape from it—no escape from him.

Aerys drives into you with wild fervor, his grip on your hips bruising, each thrust pulling a moan from deep within your chest. The fire crackles beside you, a distant sound against the pounding of your heartbeat and his ragged breath in your ear. His words spill out between his gasps, a strange mix of devotion and madness.

"You are mine," he whispers, his voice hoarse but insistent. "You’ve always been mine, my perfect Y/N. No one will ever take you from me."

His words wash over you, each syllable igniting something deep inside. You match his rhythm, your hips rising to meet him as your fingers dig into his back, pulling him closer, urging him on. "Always yours," you breathe, feeling the pull of his madness consume you, too. The madness that binds you both, twisting around your heart and mind until nothing exists but him—his touch, his voice, his madness. "I was born for you, Aerys."

A guttural growl escapes him at your words, his pace quickening, his movements frantic. His hands slide down your body, possessive, hungry, as if he could devour you whole. And still, you move with him, your body meeting his every demand, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure racing through you, your breath coming in shallow gasps. His madness seeps into your bones, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve always been this way—drawn to his chaos, addicted to the wild fire that burns in his veins.

“Do you feel it?” he growls, his hands tightening on your thighs as his pace grows erratic. “Do you feel how you were made for me, Y/N? No one else. Only me.”

You can barely find your voice, but when you do, it’s a hoarse whisper, a desperate plea. "Yes... Only you, Aerys... Always you." The words feel both like a vow and a curse, binding you tighter to him as his fevered passion pushes you both closer to the edge.

His eyes burn with a fire that mirrors your own, and you can see the madness gleaming in them, but it's a madness you've long accepted. He was always yours, and you were always his—there was no escaping that truth. The world could burn around you, and you'd still be bound to him. As he thrusts deeper, your bodies move together, faster, wilder, your voices mingling in the cool night air.

You cling to him, your hands wrapped around his neck as his lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and desperation, his taste bitter with the metallic tang of blood and fire. You arch into him, pushing yourself closer, seeking the release that’s just beyond reach. His whispered promises and harsh breaths mingle with your own as the rhythm of your bodies grows frantic, both of you spiraling toward that final release.

When it finally hits, it tears through you like wildfire, your moan lost in the night as you shudder beneath him. Aerys follows you over the edge, a growl of your name tearing from his throat as his movements slow, and you both collapse, tangled together, gasping for breath.

For a moment, all is quiet. The only sound is your shared breathing, the crackle of the dying fire, and the distant hum of the forest. Aerys’s body is heavy on top of yours, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your neck and the wound, but the madness in his eyes has softened, at least for now.

You turn your head, still catching your breath, and your gaze falls upon the wolf you strangled earlier in the Kingswood. Its dead, grey eyes stare back at you, empty and unblinking, the animal's body twisted in death, its fur matted with blood. The reins from your horse are still wound tightly around its throat, a silent testament to the violence you are capable of. You can still feel the rough leather in your hands, the way its last breath had shuddered out beneath your grasp.

The wolf’s lifeless eyes seem to accuse you, though you don’t flinch from its gaze. You've learned not to look away from death. How many lives have been taken for Aerys? How many sacrifices made in his name? You are no stranger to it now.

But even in that cold gaze, you see a reflection of yourself—of the life you’ve chosen, the sacrifices you’ve made. You wonder, not for the first time, if you’ve become something like the wolf—twisted, hollowed out, killed by the hands of the one who should protect you. And yet, even as that thought crosses your mind, you feel Aerys shift beside you, his fingers curling around yours, a gesture almost tender in the aftermath of your union.

“I’ll never let them take you from me,” he murmurs, his voice still laced with fervor, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re mine, Y/N. You’ve always been mine.”

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his body settle over you, knowing the truth of his words. Whatever lies ahead, whatever more you will sacrifice, you are his. You always will be.

The heavy doors of the Red Keep’s throne room flew open, and the sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the vast hall. Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Barristan Selmy, both drenched in sweat, their armor clinking with each hurried step, approached Prince Rhaegar with urgency in their eyes. Rhaegar stood near the Iron Throne, his brow furrowed as he read through a scroll, but the moment he saw the knights’ faces, his heart sank.

Something was terribly wrong.

"My prince," Ser Gerold began, breathless and grim, "we’ve lost the king and the princess."

The words hit Rhaegar like a physical blow. His hand tightened around the scroll, crumpling it as the weight of their message settled over him. "Lost?" His voice came out sharper than intended, filled with a raw edge of fear. "What do you mean, lost? How could you lose them?"

Ser Barristan stepped forward, his usually unshakeable composure cracked with the strain of the night's events. "We were riding through the Kingswood, unplanned. The king was—" Barristan hesitated, as if searching for the right word, "—restless. Without warning, he drove his horse deeper into the forest. No signal, no call, he just... bolted. Y/N went after him immediately."

The mention of your name made Rhaegar’s pulse quicken. His thoughts spun, imagining you alone in the woods with their father, a man who had become more unpredictable, more dangerous as time passed. You, his twin—his heart and soul—were out there, lost with Aerys, and the cold dread that swept over him was almost too much to bear.

"You let them go?" Rhaegar's voice was thick with disbelief, fury barely contained. His eyes flashed as he stared at the two knights, demanding an explanation. "You were supposed to protect them! What happened after they disappeared?"

"We tried to follow, my prince," Ser Gerold said, the guilt clear in his voice. "But the king… he was pushing his horse too fast, deeper into the woods than we expected. By the time we could catch up, they were gone. Vanished into the trees. We searched for hours, but it was getting dark. We had no choice but to return and gather more men."

Rhaegar’s chest tightened, and his mind filled with images of you—alone in the dense woods, trying to keep up with Aerys as he sped further into the unknown. The man who was once their father was now unpredictable, dangerous. He couldn’t bear the thought of you enduring his madness alone.

"You had no choice?" Rhaegar snapped, his fear making him harsher than he intended. "She’s my sister. You shouldn’t have let her go after him. You should have stopped her."

Ser Barristan stepped forward, his face lined with regret. "There was no stopping her, my prince. She followed without hesitation, just as she always does. You know how devoted she is to the king. We didn’t think…"

"You didn’t think?" Rhaegar’s voice shook. He knew how much you adored Aerys—how you had always been the one to calm him, to soothe his rages. But things were different now. You were no longer just the king’s daughter, and Aerys was no longer just your father. He was something far darker, and Rhaegar feared for what he might do in the darkness of the Kingswood.

Ser Gerold spoke again, his voice quieter but still steady. "We’ve come back to gather more men, my prince. We’ll return to the Kingswood immediately and search every corner until we find them."

Rhaegar shook his head, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t sit idly by while you were out there, at the mercy of their father’s whims. "No," he said, his voice filled with grim determination. "I’m going with you. We leave at once."

"My prince," Ser Gerold started, "the Kingswood is dangerous at night, especially now. It may not be safe—"

"I don’t care," Rhaegar interrupted, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fear and fury. "Y/N is out there, and I won’t stand here waiting while she’s in danger. Gather the men. We ride now."

The knights exchanged a brief glance, recognizing the resolve in Rhaegar’s voice. They bowed quickly and turned to carry out his orders, leaving Rhaegar alone for a moment.

His heart raced as he made his way toward the exit, his mind flooded with worry. He couldn’t shake the image of you lost in the dark, vulnerable to the unpredictable wrath of Aerys. You had sacrificed so much for the man who used to be your father, and now you were in even greater danger. Rhaegar's hands shook slightly as he whispered your name under his breath, a silent prayer for your safety.

He would find you. He had to.

In the quiet aftermath, you lay against Aerys, your body still pressed to his, the ground beneath you cold and rough compared to the heat of his skin. His breath is steady now, the wildness of moments before replaced by a dark satisfaction that lingers in his gaze. His hand remains possessive on your hip, his fingers tracing absent patterns against your bare skin, as though he relished every inch of you beneath him. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your cheek as you cling to him, the warmth of his body the only thing keeping the chill of the night at bay.

He says nothing, and you dare not speak either. There’s an unspoken rule between the two of you after these moments—a silence that feels like both a bond and a burden. You tighten your hold on him, burying your face against his chest, the scent of him—of sweat, earth, and something darker—filling your senses. It grounds you, this twisted need that you can’t seem to shake, this constant tether to him that defines your every breath.

You wish it wasn’t so, but deep down, you know it always will be.

A sudden, sharp shriek cuts through the quiet, and your body tenses, instinctively curling closer to Aerys. You look up, startled, just in time to see the large, black form of a raven taking flight from a nearby branch, its wings a shadow against the dim moonlight. It disappears into the darkness, leaving only the echo of its cry in the stillness.

For a moment, you can’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck rise, your pulse quickening as your eyes dart through the trees, searching for some unseen presence. But as quickly as the sensation comes, it fades with the raven’s departure, leaving you once again in the intimate bubble you share with Aerys.

“What is it?” Aerys’s voice rumbles against your ear, low and half-lost in the night. There’s a note of amusement in it, as if the idea of you being frightened amuses him.

You shake your head slightly, though your grip on him remains firm. “Nothing… just a raven.” Your voice sounds distant even to your own ears, your thoughts still tangled in the strange sense of unease the bird had brought with it.

Aerys chuckles softly, his hand sliding up to cup your face, turning your gaze back to his. His eyes are gleaming again, that familiar edge of madness glittering there, though his touch is strangely gentle. “They’re always watching,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “But it doesn’t matter, Y/N. Nothing matters when we’re together.”

You nod, though his words do little to ease the discomfort gnawing at the edges of your mind. You cling to him again, your fingers curling against his chest as if holding onto him would be enough to banish whatever dark force seemed to linger in the air. The feeling of being watched might have passed, but the weight of everything—of your choices, your secrets, your sacrifices—settles heavily over you once more.

Aerys’s fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your face up toward his as he presses a rough kiss to your lips, a reminder of the power he holds over you. A reminder that you are his—always have been, always will be. When he pulls back, his gaze is softer, though no less intense.

“We’ll go back soon,” he says, his voice quiet but filled with that same dark fervor that runs through him like a poison. “But not yet. Not while the night still belongs to us.”

You nod again, closing your eyes and pressing closer, trying to let the warmth of his body drive away the cold chill that still lingers in your bones.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

"Child of the Sun"

Chapter 6

masterlist

Synopsis: Julia follows the young Spade princess into the night, and gets into trouble

Four Hours Earlier

It was on nights like these that Julia wished she had inherited her mother’s flame magic. Her own flame was far from hot; it burned with an icy cold frost, a burst of cool purple before a black void appeared. No warmth existed in that place.

“Brrr…. Cold, cold, so cold…”

Julia paced around the palace gardens, rubbing her arms vigorously to generate any kind of warmth. Inside the Spade palace, laughter and music could be heard; warmth. However, for whatever reason, Julia had found herself unable to enjoy it.

Why am I even here?

She sighed, pacing around in a circle, past the frost-bitten roses.

This trip had been a great experience, sure. Emperor Yuno and Queen Fleur had been amazing hosts, and Julia had learned a lot about how their neighboring kingdom worked. However, something about the whole place gave her an unsettling feeling.

This is where that battle happened, right? Over 20 years ago.

It wasn't hard to imagine the cold stone walls of the castle crackling and creaking with magical power as a battle raged inside. The whole fiasco was barely talked about now, but Julia, curious, had asked her mother about it a few years back. She told her about the devils, about the gate to the underworld… and about the Zogratis siblings.

Julia could keenly remember where that conversation led.

"There… was a fourth one. A fourth Zogratis. He was the one who planned everything, every last detail. With his time magic, he was able to see the future. It's a miracle that we managed to defeat him."

Her mother didn't like to talk about it, either. Later, Julia learned that Lisa had been kidnapped by that man, earning his trust until it was time to betray him. But, something about that story never seemed quite right.

"Mom… Dad used to have time magic too, didn't he?"

"... he did."

That was all Lisa would say on the matter. When Julia was older, she learned the rest of the story from someone else.

"Lucius Zogratis took over your father's body. That's how he was able to trick us."

She had learned about that when she was 15. She was 18 now, and the thought still made her queasy. She mentioned it to her parents once when they were alone, and the sad look between the two of them told her everything she needed to know.

They never wanted me to find out about this. How… hurt they both were. Not just dad, but mom…

Julia was suddenly jerked from her thoughts by the sound of crunching footsteps in the snow. Startled, she looked up just in time to see a tiny figure dash across the garden and into the hedge maze.

Huh? What was that?!

Worried and intrigued, Julia took off after the shadow, glad to move around to ward off the cold. She followed the footsteps by their sound, until she turned a corner and caught up.

"Hey! What are you doing out here? Are you-"

Julia froze up when the figure suddenly stopped and turned to look at her with wide amber eyes.

"P-Princess Aurele?! What are you doing out here by yourself?!"

The tiny kid was much younger than either of Julia's youngest siblings, yet didn't seem too bothered by the cold. Maybe that was because of her thick little coat, or maybe because she had lived here all her life. However, Aurele shook her head, her black hair fluffy and dusted with snowflakes.

"No! I'm not going back!" she said before Julia could suggest such a thing. Determined, she turned around, and pointed ahead. "Bell flew away! I have to catch her!"

Bell? Julia thought, wondering if that could be a pet bird, or possibly an insect. Either way, it wouldn't fare very well in the cold snow. However, she wasn't about to let Emperor Yuno's only daughter run away into the cold night. "Er- princess," Julia said awkwardly, putting on a smile and bending down to look at her more directly. "I'm sure Bell will come back, but you need to get somewhere nice and warm!" And so do I. "We should head back before-"

"No!" Aurele demanded, before turning around and sprinting off once again. 

"WAH! Come back!"

Without a second thought, Julia sprinted after her again, determined to bring her back to the castle safely.

Aurele was surprisingly fast for a child who couldn't be more than 5 years old, but Julia eventually caught up, jogging behind her and desperately trying to convince her to turn back. However, nothing worked. Eventually, they slipped out of the grounds through a gap in the gate, a secret entrance that Julia hadn't seen before. "We really shouldn't be leaving!!" she told Aurele, wondering at this point if it would be permissible to just grab the girl and run back to the castle. "Please, Aurele-"

They were in the city now. Darkness cloaked them as Aurele navigated around corners, across empty streets, through alleyways-

And then, suddenly, she screeched to a halt. Julia nearly tripped over her, but managed to skid to a stop in time. "What is it?" she whispered, peering up ahead. Slowly, Aurele, who had gone silent, raised her hand and pointed at the junction ahead of them, where four alleyways connected. Julia saw shadowy figures there, seemingly unaware of their presence. 

"Bad men," Aurele whispered. "Daddy knows them."

Julia gulped, wondering what exactly these men must have done to grab the attention of the Spade Emperor himself. Slowly, she knelt down into the snow, her hand touching Aurele's shoulder. 

"Listen to me, Aurele. Run back and grab help. Get your parents. I'll make sure they don't follow you."

Aurele's amber eyes widened in shock. Julia smiled confidently. 

"I'll be alright, don't worry. I'm the daughter of a Wizard King, after all."

"W-whoa!" Aurele whispered, stars appearing in her eyes. "Really?" Julia nodded, and the little girl smiled, before turning around. "Okay! I'll get help!"

"Good! Run quickly!"

As the girl ran off, Julia redirected her attention to the intersection, closing her eyes to listen more carefully to what they were whispering about.

"We almost had it."

"Damn… so, you have no idea where the Spirit went at all?"

"No. We got it separated from the Emperor, but then it just flew down into the city and disappeared. Probably hiding somewhere…"

There were three of them. Julia frowned, her heart pounding. Spirit? They could only be talking about Sylph, the Wind Spirit that had a contract with Yuno. Bell, she suddenly realized. That must be Bell! What do these men want with Bell…

"She's not going to be happy," one of the men said. "This is the one Spirit we may have been able to catch, while it's between users."

Julia didn't want to hear any more. After sucking in a deep breath, she straightened up, and stepped out into the opening.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The men whirled around, eyes widening.

"A magic knight?!" one exclaimed. "All the way out here?!"

"Kill her!" the other yelled, his Grimoire out.

"Wait!" The third one's eyes were fixed on Julia's face, recognition flickering like flames. "That's-"

Julia had already attacked, flashing by them with pops of purple and black.

"Void Magic: Violet Plague."

The men cried out as black spots trailed behind Julia, causing them to fall over. However, one of them seemed unfazed, raising his hands and deflecting the voids with a shimmer of sparks.

Not good! Julia thought. My magic can be canceled out by Spatial Magic like his. I need something more powerful, to overwhelm him…

With a sly smile, she turned on her heel, her Golden Dawn cloak flaring out behind her.

"Mana Zone: Dark Battlefield!"

All at once, voids burst open around the intersection, warping the space around it and blasting cold air onto them. Julia felt her skin prick with mana, and she willed herself to stay in control.

Control it. Control it.

"Ah!!! I can't move!" one of the men yelled, frozen in place as the voids tugged on his body, taut with fear.

"Hold on!" The spatial magic user tried to move his hand towards his grimoire.

Control it. Control it.

In a flash, Julia raised her hand, willing her mana to burn through the space around the grimoire. 

Control it. Control it.

The grimoire disappeared into the darkness, causing an anguished scream to ring out from its owner.

Julia grinned, happy to have captured one of their weapons. Now, I just need to knock them out! By the time help arrives, I'll be sitting here waiting for them!

"Ice magic!"

Someone yelled out a spell, and Julia turned just in time to see three deadly-sharp icicles shoot at her.

So deadly-sharp, they would impale her in an instant.

Her eyes widened, panic and adrenaline clutching her heart.

No!

She threw up her hands, and a wall of void was burned in the spot, swallowing up the icicles. However, her heart still pounded, the girl caught off-guard by the near-deadly attack.

Breathe- breathe-

The void stuttered.

Control it. Control-

And then it exploded.

Unable to control the surge of mana from her body, Julia could do nothing but cry out in pain as it engulfed her, too, leaving her suspended in nothingness.

Nothingness…

Why…

Fear. Panic. Anger. Regret.

Each emotion caused the void to get bigger, to consume her body further.

She had always heard people talk about how your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but Julia hadn't believed it until now. The images, the memories, only increased her despair, until she couldn't tell where she began and the void ended.

Regret, after regret, after regret flooded in.

I'll never see the twins join a squad.

I'll never be a captain, or even a senior magic knight.

I'll never see Juno again. Or mom, or dad.

It was so cold. Her eyes were open, but she couldn't see anything.

No… no… not like this…

And then, it was warm again.

Julia was being held. A soft voice wafted across her soul. With a shaky breath, she started to cry.

"No, no, it's alright, my darling, my love… Julia…"

That was her name. Julia.

"There's no reason to cry. I'm here. I'll protect you… from everything. I promise."

She couldn't see her mother's face, but she knew it was her. Lisa had been the first soul she felt, seperate from her own.

The memory was fading. Julia would return to that warm nothingness once again.

Someone else was there. A man.

Who…?

He was gentle. His hair was black. His voice was like her father's, but…

That was the last thing Julia saw, before the darkness returned, and there was nothing but starlight.

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

Four Hours later, Lisa and Julius rushed into the hospital, followed by Marx just behind them. Lisa didn't head Julius's shout as she arrived outside the room, bursting inside without hesitation. What she saw made her cry out and fall to her knees.

Julia was laying in the hospital bed, her skin pale, almost blue. Her eyes were glassy, staring at nothing, but the worst part was the voids. Numerous splotches of black, inky space were drifting across her skin, causing parts of her body to disappear and reappear again. As if she were fading in and out of existence forever.

"W-w-w-"

Lisa could barely form words. Owen was there, alongside Mimosa and Annick. Mimosa was crying openly, her hands spread over Julia, green healing magic flowing down on the unconscious girl. Owen looked up sharply as he saw Lisa enter, quickly rushing to her side. 

"She's alive, she's alive," he repeated, but Lisa could barely hear him. She felt Julius's arm wrap around her, gently pulling her back to her feet. She looked up at him, still in shock, only to see that his eyes were locked on Julia, his face completely devoid of color.

"What happened to her?" he asked quietly, although his voice was wavering, far from calm.

"She was fighting a group of criminals in the Spade Kingdom," Owen explained quickly. "We don't really know how, but her magic expanded rapidly… almost like an explosion. She fell inside…"

Oh god… no, no, no-

Memories of that terrible day 16 years ago flooded Lisa's mind. The day she almost lost Julia to her own magic. And now…

"Yuno was able to contain it, and save her. If it weren't for Fleur and Mimosa…" Owen's voice trailed off, before he shook his head, disregarding the possibility. "Luckily, she's stable now, but we will have to contain the rest of the void stuck to her body. Lisa…" The older man sucked in a breath, before gesturing at the bed. 

"We need your magic… with me, you, Mimosa, and Annick, we should be able to save her."

Save her…

"I-I'm sorry," Mimosa suddenly said, tears still in her eyes. "I-I-I was supposed to protect her on this trip, I sh-shouldn't have-"

"It's no one's fault." Annick took Mimosa's hand, giving it a squeeze before she looked at Lisa. "This is our only chance. We have to do it now."

"... right."

Lisa gulped, still short of breath and blurry-eyed with tears. She looked up at Julius.

"Together. We need as much power as we can muster- to- t-to-"

"To save our daughter." Julius finished her sentence, nodding solemnly and brushing tears out of his own eyes. Lisa could feel the panic washing off of him, too.

They both closed their eyes, still hand-in-hand. Then, mana burst forth, their marks glowing so bright it dimmed the rest of the light in the room. Owen flinched, but looked back to see that the pair was looking at him, their eyes ablaze.

"... I'm ready."

They walked to the bed, raising their hands over Julia. Mimosa, Annick, and Owen did the same, before unleashing the full force of their healing magic upon her.

I failed her… I failed her…

"No, you didn't."

I did! I was always supposed to protect her!!! And now…

Two pairs of arms were around her as she sobbed, openly and bitterly. Their warmth was the only thing keeping her together right now.

"You did everything a mother could. And now, you'll save her. You're protecting her, even now."

Slowly, the dark splotches of void began to disappear from Julia's skin. Her breaths shuddered, her hands trembling.

But Lisa could not stop crying, even as power surged through her, as those arms held her soul so, so close.

Please… please… don't let my daughter die…

[notbythemoonrp]

Swear not by the inconstant moon, Celestine. You are the Good Witch in Aura. At 25, you are quite the perplexing immortal, especially with that air, fire, water, and earth magic.

Can you find your way out of the darkness?

OOC:

Name/Alias: Dee

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 21+

Timezone: EST

IC:

Biography Information:

Skeleton/OC Role: The Good Witch

Character Name: Celestine

FC: Lee Jieun (IU)

Species: Immortal 

Status: Unaware

Gender: Cis-female

Pronouns: she/her, but as grand poobah of magic will also accept they/them

Age: Appears 25, real age unknown

Abilities: Water, Fire, Earth, and Air Magic

Original Fate:  Loses all their magic protecting the fairy and is later killed by the evil witch.

Biography: tw for gentle mentions of child abandonment, murder, bullying and softly plotted treason.

Celestine as the world knows her is a powerful Witch, in control of all four elements, the sole caster of her kind and an irreplicable asset of the royal family. She is revered, respected even. And to all she meets she is a singular source of light, with a kind smile and soft spoken word. This is not the life she was born to, however. It is good to be different when that difference helps to save a kingdom. It is not good to be different when you are a child stumbling blindly into your powers for the first time, and realize that not only are you weaker than the children around you, but that you can also do things that they cannot.

To her family, a singularly powerful bunch of magic wielders in their own right, she was an embarrassment. A taint upon their good name. How could they have a child with an affinity for all four, but a strength in none? When they cast her from their home, it was in the hopes that she would do as all disowned children should, wander off and die a victim of crime or the elements. What no one could have expected was that she would wander off — but not to her death. Instead the young girl found herself in the arms of a strong Fire Witch, Shearah Naxxremis. And be it the peculiar gift of her affinities, or her kind, gentle nature, the Witch decided to take a single apprentice.

With a new name, and a new teacher, the child bloomed, slowly coming into the strength of her powers with practice and focus, and a little bit of care. After all, it took an immense amount of strength to force all four elements to do her bidding, particularly if she was calling on more than one; it was age more than anything, that lent her better precision and control. What Celestine didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Was that her dear, sweet mentor was not all that she seemed. For all her strength with fire, it was shadow that she was a true master of. A half-demon of the Darien Vale, on the run for her part in selling out the Demon King.

What was truly a tactic to keep them on the move, and under the radar, the young witch saw as adventure. A chance to grow and experience the Kingdom for all the splendors and wonders it contained. For many years, that was all it was. A Witch and her Apprentice, wandering wherever their souls guided them, experiencing different ways of life as they went. But Shearah had made powerful enemies, and it was only a matter of time before they caught up to them. And catch up they did, in the form of a shadow, an assassin of the Demon King who made his way between them, and left nothing but a corpse and the spark of a new, consuming flame in their wake.

This flame was the rage that spurred her powers, and that, when given the chance, guided her to help the Kingdom of Elestren overthrow the Dark Empress that had reigned upon its throne for far too long, every movement, every carefully plotted detail plotted to bring her one step closer to ruling a Kingdom of her own, of amassing a force unlike anything they had ever seen to lay waste to the Darien Vale and bring death to every citizen with the blood of her beloved mentor on their hands. She had traded a part of her soul for eternity, she had nothing but time.

Of course, that wasn’t exactly how her story ended. Instead, a new royal family was elected. No one could trust, sweet Celestine with her wicked magic to rule over them, magic was what had landed them in all this mess to begin with, wasn’t it? The rage that burned in her at this never faded, even after a decade of willing service to the royal family, playing the role of their hound, hunting and destroying any threat to their precious family, their precious power and their most precious Kingdom. And when the time came, she took apprentices of her own. More than she would have cared for, but it was expected of a caster of her status.

And thus, she let them weed each other. Pulling nasty tricks and pranks, all the while her interest in them weaned and waned like the sickly moon, deteriorating to nothing until all that was left was one sweet fairy worthy of the lessons she desired to teach. The Fairy. A pupil worthy of her gifts. Of her affection. Shearah may be dead, but what she had taught, never faded. And Celestine knew better than anyone that true magic flourished under the care of love, be it familial or otherwise, and The Good Witch, as she was now often called, had been longing for someone to care for as she had once done before. Not as mother and mentor as she had before, but as daughter, or younger sister. Someone who could stand at her side, trusted in all things.

In the end, the true end. It had all been for nothing. And under the guidance of the Author she had met her redemption, choosing to die to protect that singular love which she had allowed herself in all the world, rather than sacrifice her Apprentice for the sake of her own plans. In doing so, she had met her end. Maybe that was unfair, but there was a smile on her lips when the last of the blessed air had left her lips, and a lulling peace in her soul that she had never known...

But you’re all here because the story didn’t truly end, now did it? And all that is left to do, is return to the beginning of our story, when a Witch whose been scorned accepts a role for a Kingdom she was deemed unfit to rule. And see how the plot unfurls under the influence of new magic.

[xuchiya]

"stuck in this fairytale" || choi san || series || fourteenth part

| genre: prince! san. fluff. angst. adventure | mentions: cursing. | here's the first part

back to masterlist | chapter 15

ohh .. angst in this chapter.

The chaos around you was deafening, the relentless chase of the Murks spreading an unnatural frost across the battlefield. Their cold presence seemed to steal the breath from your lungs, leaving behind a suffocating dread. You clutched your side, blood staining your trembling fingers, every ragged breath dragging fire through your chest. The blow to your head throbbed with every heartbeat, and the icy numbness spreading across your right side left you staggering, your movements sluggish and disoriented. Yet, even as your vision blurred, your heart refused to give in.  

“Fuck…” you groaned, the word breaking from you in a voice that sounded foreign, hoarse with exhaustion and pain.  Within you, there is this anger— one is because the gift is not working up until now. It flickers like a candle.

And second, just moments ago, you and Jongho had stood together, your hands twitching in anticipation as the weight of your roles settled heavily on your shoulders. Descendants of Brigid and Jeoyoung—a lineage carrying both power and heartbreak, a duty none could escape. For a brief instant, there had been an unspoken understanding, a silent resolve between you both.  But that fragile moment shattered as the Murks descended, their darkness spreading like a living plague, and San’s roar pierced the air—a sound so primal it tore through you, shaking the ground beneath your feet.  

You now watched helplessly as Jongho stood in the distance, his broad shoulders tense, his hands gripping San’s massive snout with all his strength. The dragon, no longer your San but a creature twisted by the curse, thrashed violently, his glowing, molten eyes wild with a pain that seemed to consume him. His scales rippled like molten metal in the firelight, claws tearing deep gashes into the earth as he struggled to unleash the inferno building within him.  

“Jongho!” you tried to call out, but your voice was a broken whisper, drowned by the howling wind and San’s anguished roars.  

Jongho turned slightly, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face—a mixture of exhaustion and determination. Tears glistened in his eyes, though they didn’t fall. His gaze was resolute, his jaw set as he forced San’s maw closed, locking eyes with the creature he once called a brother.  

“It’s not the curse,” Jongho muttered, his voice low, almost reverent. You could see his lips move, even if you couldn’t hear him clearly. “It’s her pain—Brigid’s pain.”  

The realization seemed to freeze time. Brigid’s agony, her sorrow, and her fury—an inheritance San now bore, a torment he couldn’t escape. You could feel it too, deep in your chest, the crushing weight of a heartbreak centuries old. Jongho, ever the strategist, had already understood what was happening before you even began to grasp it.  

San wasn’t destroying because of the curse. He was destroying because of the unbearable pain, the misery Brigid endured and passed down through blood and flame.  

“San-hyung!” Jongho called, his voice stronger this time, carrying across the battlefield like a promise. “You don’t have to burn everything down! You’re not her rage—you have to fight through it!”  

San roared in response, the sound rumbling like thunder as he fought against Jongho’s grip.  

“Jongho!” you screamed, forcing your battered body to move, stumbling forward even as your legs threatened to collapse beneath you. Jongho didn’t look back this time, his focus entirely on San. The entire flashback gave few things that he only saw— Jeoyoung wasn’t just a king nor a true king of the entire kingdom. He was amongst the scavenger people, one of those people who summoned the Goddess of fire and tricked her into using the pseudodragons for a better way of traveling around but the truth is, people have grown to become greedy. And he learned that from them not everything is earned through hardwork but through life being slathered.

Jeoyoung rescued the pseudodragons and took them back to Brigid and that is where the love began. Although not everything has a happy ending, even it means Jeoyoung having to sacrifice his life to save the dragon's life and his lover.

Jongho leaned closer, his voice steady, his words filled with a quiet kind of grief. “I understand… what needs to be done.”  

You froze in place, a sick sense of foreboding settling deep in your gut. “Don’t do this! W-We don’t know if we … Please don’t!” you begged, your voice breaking.  

Jongho turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. There was something heartbreaking in his expression—a softness that belied the storm around you. His lips curled into a faint smile, bittersweet and knowing.  

“See ya’, bookie,” he said softly, the nickname a knife to your chest, carving out a wound that would never heal. Before you could stop him, Jongho released San’s snout and stepped directly into the dragon’s line of fire.  

The air seemed to hold its breath.  

San reared back, his chest expanding as flames began to pool in his throat, the glow of them lighting the battlefield like a second sun. His body trembled with the effort, the pain and fury threatening to tear him apart from within.  And then the fire erupted—a torrent of blinding, searing light, hotter than anything you’d ever experienced. The heat scorched the air, making it impossible to breathe.  

But Jongho didn’t flinch.  

He stepped forward, his arms outstretched, and caught the fire with his bare hands. You screamed, the sound raw and guttural, but it was drowned by the roar of the flames.  

Jongho’s body lit up like a star, the golden light of the fire consuming him as he absorbed its fury. His muscles trembled under the strain, the cracks of glowing energy spreading across his skin like fractures in glass. Every second felt like an eternity as he stood there, holding the fire back with nothing but his will.  

“This isn’t your pain to bear, San-hyung,” Jongho said, his voice steady despite the agony etched into his every movement. “It’s hers. And I’ll take it.”  The fire began to coil around him, twisting and folding inward as if it recognized him. The golden light intensified, blinding in its brilliance, and you could feel the weight of his sacrifice pressing down on your chest, suffocating you.  

“Jongho!” you screamed again, stumbling forward, only for the ground to splinter beneath you, creating a chasm that forced you back.  

He turned to you one last time, his face serene despite the chaos. His eyes held everything—his love for you, his regrets, his unshakable resolve. “The fire within… must protect, not destroy.”  

With a final, defiant roar, Jongho pressed the fire to his chest. The flames erupted into an explosion of golden light, consuming him entirely.  

And then, silence.  

San collapsed to the ground, his massive form trembling, his glowing eyes dimmed. The Murks retreated, their shadows dissipating as if the light had driven them away.  

But Jongho…  

You fell to your knees, sobbing as you stared at the spot where he had stood. The golden glow lingered in the air, like embers drifting on the wind, but there was no trace of him.  

“No…” you whispered, the word breaking apart as it left your lips. The dragon tamer had fulfilled his role. A role that saved the entire kingdom, save the entire line of San and the other princes.  

taglist: @passerbyforfun . @seongwars . @candied-czennie . @ffenjoyerdazme . @jiwoongsblondehair

[umeumeumee]

hello<3 i hope you are well!! I recently read the kyoshi novels and i love them so much it hurts! I love earthbender / firebender romantic due - so… i was wondering, if possible for your ATLA/TLoK event if you could possibly do an Azula x fem! earthbender reader with the trope “it hurts me, just how much i ache for you.” with angst/comfort/fluff ? thank you i love uouuuuuu

only you

ᥫ᭡ as someone who has read the Kyoshi books, i feel you! rangshi is permanently indented into my mind. anyways, tysm for requesting for my atla/lok event! i absolutely adoreeee azula, she’s always been my favorite and .. my first childhood crush.. enjoy!

princess azula x fem! earthbender! reader

ᥫ᭡ a night on ember island leads to a moment between you and your beloved princess, something that changes everything for the rest of your lives.

the burning inside azula’s chest was worse than any flame.

Her eyes traced along your swaying body as you moved in sync with Ty lee, dancing to the music blasting loudly from the speakers of Chen’s party.

Azula could only lean on the wooden pole, crossing her arms and biting her lip so hard she could recognize metallic taste of blood flowing to her mouth. The princess felt uncharacteristically helpless, as she watched you spend your time dancing with ty lee- unaware of the many desperate eyes that linger on your form in such a disgusting manner.

If azula could have a moment alone with all the people who dare to look at you, she would be the only one walking away breathing.

the fire princess took pity on most people— but, right now, as she helplessly stared you from across the room, for once in her life— her pity was reflected to herself.

azula was the princess of the fire nation, she had royal blood, she was a firebending prodigy and the heir to the royal throne— but here she was, helplessly in love with a woman from the earth kingdom Omashu.

she felt so pathetic. where was her pride? her grace? her honor? she couldn’t even bare to think about what she’s become. So weak under your touch, under your gaze.

goodness, were you a spirit? an evil being meant to take the power from inside the princess heart and convert it into this.. softness? this fondness she holds so close to her heart, the fondness she only holds for you.

the most beautiful woman azula has ever known.

her hopelessness molded into rage— rage at those who dare thing they can look at you like you are an object, rage to those who dare think anything of you, rage at herself, rage at her heart.

Azula let out an irritated sigh as she pushed herself off the wooden beam, sparing you one last glance before she stomped up the stairs to get away from the party as fast possible, a sad action in hopes to rest her churning nerves.

but unbeknownst to the princess, you’d been keeping your eye on azula all night, knowing she was not one for parties. In all honesty, you’d wanted to spend the evening with her— but ty lee had insisted you go with her and dance, to have some fun. you tried to protest but felt for your friend, telling azula you would be away for just a little while.

You noticed how she was looking at you, and how her eyes always danced along the many other figures in the room. you frowned when you saw her stomp off, leaving nothing but a trail of smoke in her wake.

you turned to Ty Lee, excusing yourself and saying you’d come back— not completely sure if that was true or not.

you followed in azula’s footsteps, up the stairs and into an empty room. You quietly opened the door, closing it behind you and catching sight of the princess standing outside the balcony attached to the bedroom. You approached her, carefully.

“why did you leave?” your sudden question didn’t seem to phase her, as she knew you were the one who entered the room. you were the only one who truly cared.

azula took a moment to respond, her hands gripping the metal railing so tight you thought you might begin to see red from the burn she would leave.

“no reason.” her tone was meant to be harsh and degrading, but it came out a hushed whisper, almost like a plea for you to care.

your frown only grew, daring to step forward and stand beside her. you stood so close you felt her warmth, her heat always radiated off of her so perfectly.

“azula,” you placed a hand on her bicep carefully , feeling her warmth. she shuttered under your touch, looking away from your gazing eyes. “you can tell me.”

your voice was so soft, a melody unlike any kind azula has heard before. it was soothing, the only voice in the world who could calm her racing mind, the only voice who could calm her aching heart.

azula opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was helpless under your touch, under your gaze.

the idea of you being so close had her heart reaching through her chest, trying to reach you.

Princess Azula recalls the day she realized she was head over heels, so deep in love with you she felt like she was in a ditch she could only dream of climbing out of- you two were about eight or nine, a sunny day at the royal castle.

azula watched as Zuko showed Mai some flowers, azula overhead him blabbing on about how important they were.

“these flowers are actually very special, my mom loves botany so she told me a lot of things about it.” zuko held a white dragon lily in his palm, showing it to mai as she looked up at him with red blush coating her usually pale face.

Ty lee wasn’t there that day, but luckily for azula— you were. You sat beside her, humming a very low tune and weaving some flower crowns from some flowers you’d brought from your own mother’s garden. Azula continued to keep her eyes on Mai and Zuko, a mischievous smile embracing her lips.

azula turned to you, “hey, y/n, wanna play a funny game?” the princess questions you, taking your attention from the flowers in your hands. “sure!” you smiled. you followed azula as she stood up, turning towards you.

“okay so, here’s how it goes: i’ll act as zuko while you act as mai. got it?” she pointed at you as she spoke, a constant smile on your face, and even a laugh at her idea.

“hehe, okay! let’s do it!” you smile widely, giggling softly.

you turned away as did azula, placing a dramatic hand to your forehead she held her hand out in means to show the distance between you both.

“I’m sorry, Mai, but we can’t stay together. i’m a big boy now and mom said i shouldn’t date such young girls.” Azula’s voice was spoken in mockery of her brother, causing you to hold back a little giggle.

“Oh, zuko!” you expressed dramatically in reply to azula, “my beloved, why are you doing this to me?”

“i love you!” you expressed, turing to jump on azula dramatically, wrapping your arms around her neck as she held her hands out in either side of you. “don’t you get it? i can’t go on without you, zuko!” you really played the part, azula replied; “well, if you love me that much, i guess it can’t be helped!” she put on arm on your upper waist when mai and zuko turned to you both with strawberry red faces.

“Hey!” zuko shouted, “I’m not like that! stop it, Azula!” he embarrassingly expressed, mai behind him with flustered tears in her eyes. “ugh! you guys are the worst!” Mai fumes, watching zuko stomp off. “Puah! enough of this!” he huffed angrily, leaving the scene with a red face.

“Bye Bye, zuzu!” azula laughed, your cheek still pressed against hers with her hand on you as you laughed, watching zuko walk off.

“What a dumb-dumb.” she said once he left, a smile evident on her face. silence followed for a moment with you in her arms before she turned her head to you, realizing how close you were- her face blew aflame, much alike to her brothers.

“let’s keep playing, i love this game!” you said happily, turning to face azula, your face only inches apart, eyes locking as she stare at you with a flustered expression— just before you felt a rough shove in your abdomen.

you gasped as she pushed you to the floor, being poked by a tree root on your back your eyes teared up. you missed the very, very red face of the princess when she instinctively shoved you off, as she had covered her flustered mess of a face with a boisterous voice. “hahahaha!” azula laughed obnoxiously, “you always fall so easily!” she pointed out, hand on her stomach to control her everlasting laughter.

you stood up, her hands moving to cross over themselves as you walked over, an upset expression on your face as tears welled in your once shining eyes. “that’s not funny azula! you hurt me!” your voice broke, wiping a tear as you ran off. “I hate you when you act like this! I don’t wanna play with you anymore!”

Azula watched you run off with tears in your eyes, huffing air and leaving the garden. She was left alone, the heat of her cheeks at your proximity still felt warm.

“fine, i don’t care about you anyway.” she whispered to herself, knowing it was a lie. In all honesty, she felt horrible, she instantly regretted her decision to push you— not meaning to hurt you what so ever.

your words were like stones in her heart, and it was only when she went to her room and sat on her bed, she realized how much she really did care. she cared about you more than anything in the world, so much the word love indented into her mind for years to come.

azula stared down at the beach, the bitter taste of her decision still lingering in her mouth even all these years later.

you knew she regretted that, but to you it was just the silly memories of your childhood, and you knew she didn’t mean it.

She never meant to hurt you.

you brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ears and let your hand linger for a few moments. it was times like these your feelings were the strongest, isolated moments between you both where your hearts fought your mind in a civil war, hoping to catch a glimpse of each other before being locked away for eternity.

the look in azula’s eye was unfamiliar, something you could only pray to understand. You wished with all your heart that she one day would truly understand how much you care for her— not only as a friend, but as someone you love, with every fiber of your being.

“Azula..” you whispered softly when she pulled away from your lingering touch; yet still allowing your hand to rest upon her bicep.

it was difficult to communicate with her sometimes, when she felt so isolated and alone from the world, and no matter how hard you tried, how much you fought— you couldn’t get it through to her that you were there for her. that you loved her.

you allowed silence to follow after the previous call of her name left your lips. She was shaking, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger, or from the cold of the night.

or perhaps, something else entirely.

while you struggled with hoping azula could understand your feelings, azula suffered with the scorching feeling burning the inside of her body. The intense warmth that devoured her skin and insides with aching pain, a yearning unlike any kind.

it was painful, to watch you and see you, and not be able to take you. To claim you as hers, to kiss you and hold you and show you just how much she loves you.

it burnt worse than any possible heat, any possible flame— it was an eternal pain, a scorching sensation that only you could ease, and a scorching sensation that only you could cause.

Azula couldn’t take it— she wanted to scream, to yell and burn down everything in her sight— to kill and destroy anyone and anything— except you. she wanted to protect you, to show you her love in an intimate way, a way she could only wonder of.

Azula was haunted by the dreams that followed her in her sleep.

Dreams of you and her, alone, holding one another in a way that was sorely for those who meant to be more than friends. It was what she hoped to happen one day, but the thought of rejection made her nauseous, so sick she couldn’t breathe.

it gnawed at her flesh like an infectious disease, chewing away her pride and honor.

but, the feelings inside her were stronger. she turned to you, shyly and afraid, she watched your face with desperate eyes.

“Azula, i… don’t know what is bothering you,” the sound of your voice was something she could bask in for hours, a sound she could listen to for the rest of eternity. “and i want you to know that no matter what,” you hesitantly rose a hand to her cheek, and azula fought the urge to sink into your touch. “i’ll always be here for you.” you voice followed with a confident tone, telling her that you said the truth and nothing but, and swore that no matter, you’d be here.

Azula couldn’t take it.

She inhaled through her teeth, the burning of her skin eating her alive as she locked her eyes with yours, those beautiful, warm, loving eyes she had made her home.

“it..” her words faded off; her fear burning her throat as she tried to speak, but was at a loss for words. You listened, waiting patiently.

“It hurts me,” she whispered, swallowing harshly. “How much I ache for you.”

azula’s words blew you away, shocking you to your core. Your face must have been as surprised as you felt, as azula turned away with reddened cheeks.

you felt like.. laughing. like laughing of pure joy. Happiness flooded you like a tsunami floods a city, your surprised face quickly becomes one of pure, luscious happiness.

Azula misses the exchange of expressions, thinking that was it. that was you showing your rejection. she might as well be banished, just like her brother.

But the call of her name caught her thoughts, and as she hastily turned to you, her eyes blew wide. The expression on your face was the most happy she’d ever seen. It mirrored the pure joy that she could only remember being in her childhood, in the moments she spent with you.

She felt her voice leave her body, her heart pounding so hard against her chest she was sure you could hear.

did you.. feel the same?

her question was answered by the feeling of your soft, warm lips embracing her own. the princesses eyes became somehow even more wide, her hands losing their grip on the railing shock.

but soon she wasted no time in kissing you back, absolutely absorbing the feeling that she’s been dreaming of for years of her life.

her hands carefully wrapped around your waist, grabbing softly. She held you close, your chest pressed to her own as she devoured your lips in a savory kiss.

the sweetness of your taste was utterly addictive, a taste more divine than anything she’s ever tasted. The kiss was warm and gentle, a savory event that you both had been waiting to happen for a long, long time.

but as it continued, it became desperate. Azula’s grip on your waist tightened, her nails digging into your skin. your hands had traveled up to her head, fingers running through her hair— twisting and pulling her black locks as you pulled each other impossibly close.

your tongues decided to join in the chorus of your mouths, dancing in sync with one another in a way you didn’t know was possible.

soft sounds that left your lips drove the princess over the edge, turning her body to pin your against the railing. her hands clawed against you, trailing down and sliding to your hips, pulling your body against hers as to the point she could feel your heartbeat, your breathing.

azula was the first to break contact, gently and deliberately breathing a wisp of steam down your neck, a parting gift of heat that drifted underneath your clothes.

you were gasping for air, a look in your eyes azula could only imagine she mirrored. She grabbed you, turning your body and rushing in through the balcony’s door, pushing you against the end of the bed— she pushed you down, causing you to gasp. Her lips met yours once more, and that night was one that you would never forget.

the night azula finally got what she wanted.

you.