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cherryheairt · 4 months ago

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Dragon Dreamer pt. V

sorry for the wait, I'm trying to do a mix of longer and shorter chaps depending on how much time I have. Love yall 🩷

tags- @beebeechaos @hueanhdang @emery-aka-emmy @r-3dlips @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew

cw- blood, death

"I'll find her." Cregan promised the she-dragon, not stopping to wonder if it understood his common tongue.

He sat upon Red's saddle, looking out into the dim forest. He prayed of the old Gods that she was only lost.

🗡

Daenys had yet to find her mysterious calling. It wasn't a voice or a message, but a persistent tug in the forefront of her unconscious mind. The snow seemed to fall harder the deeper she continued into the forest. She was unsure which way she had come from, but knew it didn't matter now.

White fortresses of snow grew all around her, trapping her from going any other direction. Squinting, she could barely make out a few feet in front of her face. This must be some cruel game the gods were playing, toying with the Princess before leading her to her doom. Perhaps a frozen lake would be fitting. She wouldn't even know that she was standing in the middle of one until she was frozen in the icy depths.

Or mayhaps a cliff so monstrous that the jagged edges left nothing of her mortal body left behind. Whatever it was, Daenys just wished she would reach it already. Now that she was wide-awake, the cold was getting to her, mentally and physically. Even the well-suited fur dress was not enough to keep her alive forever. She needed fire, warmth.

And what of her most recent vision? Tame in nature, but harrowing to her poor heart nonetheless. Daenys had never seen Rhaenyra so undignified before, flying on Syrax in a dirty, worn dress and covered in soot and sand. Her hair was in a loose braid, clearly one meant for sleep and not council duties. She was searching for something that no one else could find. A dragon, perhaps? Maybe Seasmoke had become active again after his depressive state from Laenor's passing. The grey dragon had always liked Rhaenyra. The married couple often rode their dragons together to spend time away from King's Landing. Daenys was sure it would obey her still.

But that look on her face. The same one she wore after returning from her birthing room, without baby Visenya in her arms. Puffy face, red eyes, downtrodded posture unbefitting of the new Queen. It was all the same in her dream, maybe even worse. Daenys was glad that her mother was with Syrax, for the she dragon would keep her safe no matter what.

She smiled slightly at the remembrance of Syrax, the princess dragoness. Though Morningstar was not born from Syrax's clutch, the two had bonded as if they were truly kin. Daenys had even commissioned an iron star-shaped chain to be the dragonsaddle's chestpiece. Rhaenyra had given Syrax a similar heart-shaped chestpiece in her youth and was happy to see the white dragon doning a matching article.

Daenys suddenly felt a pang in her heart, clutching the star necklace hanging at her neck. Guilty ate at her for leaving her loyal dragon behind. She missed her warmth.

She missed Cregan's, too.

She longed for either's protective embrace in this desolate wood.

"Find me," she whispered to the nothingness. The air seemed to still, freezing Daenys in place. She listened for something, anything. She no longer felt the incessant tug. Her mind cleared.

A crunch of snow was her answer.

But Daenys hadn't moved an inch.

"Cregan?" She asked, louder. "Are you here?"

No answer but the one in the wind, like a solemn wolf's howl.

Another crunch. Another step. Cregan would've answered her by now, surely. He was not one for callous pranks or jests. Daenys wasn't alone anymore. Was this the destination? Her mind's call? Would it be a wise seer, or a vessel sent by the gods to deliver a message? Swallowing, she hoped that the entity was merciful.

A low growl answered her desperate wishes.

A wolf.

Not Dusk.

Shit.

Daenys stilled her breaths, bracing her legs into the snow. What does a weaponless person do in the face of a predator? She'd never been taught such survival methods. The Red Keep's wildlife consisted of garden rabbits and squirrels, and Dragonstone had naught but sea creatures and crabs at its disposal.

Her eyes caught the slow movement of the creatures paw, striking dread straight into her heart. The form was smaller than Dusk, by a lot. Direwolves had a size no natural animal compared to. But this one seemed smaller than an average wolf, too. Perhaps a wolf in its teen years, just recently leaving its pack to stake his place in the world.

It was a slim thing, thick coat not enough to hide its ribs. Poor thing. It was starving, clearly. Daenys would have the heart to help it if only she wasn't the current prey he had in mind.

It was survival of the fittest in this world, after all. A dragon and a wolf. Any person with common sense would declare the dragon the victor before the fight could even start. But what was the blood of the dragon without the dragon? Daenys began to wonder if there was anything special about the Targaryens besides their dragons. They gained no special traits. No endurance, strength, speed. Without Morningstar, was Daenys worthy of her namesake? Lightbringer, the realm lovingly called the beast. Fearsome and powerful, a shame that the dragon will never be given glory like other dragons of history.

The dragon wouldn't be winning wars, protecting Westeros, or even stationed at a House to guard. All because of the rider she was bestowed.

A wolf does not care for blood.

They stared at each other, neither blinking nor moving.

Run or fight.

Run or fight?

Her only two options, and both would lead to her death. It wasn't nearly as merciful and quick as a frozen lake or a jagged cliff would be. No, she would be torn apart kicking and screaming.

If she charged it, would it run or have the courage to meet her head on? No, it would not back down. A starving dog hunts best. A starving wolf cannot risk failure.

What would Rhaenyra do? What would Daemon do?

Rhaenyra might stand her ground, ever the Dragon Queen she was. Mighty and proud, though she wielded no sword or plated armor.

Daemon wouldn't hesitate, drawing Dark Sister from its sheathe, beheading the wolf with a triumphant laugh.

Daenys was neither her mother nor her step-father, though she wished futility to be an image of them.

Cregan? Perhaps he would tame yet another wolf, seeing as he clearly had an affinity.

What would a northerner like Cregan Stark do in the face of a wild wolf? Unarmed, unshielded. Pray? Take the death as the will of the Gods? Maybe.

Daenys Velayron was far from a northerner. Fire and blood hot through her veins, not ice or faith. The way of the dragon was to be unchained, forever standing tall above the realm.

Though, wild animals have no reason to care for heritage or blood. The meat on her bones was all it could see.

A wolf does not care for blood.

Daenys exhaled, long and slow. Run or fight. Fighting a starved wolf meant death, instantly. Running gave her a chance at finding a tree or rock to climb–anything to get her a vantage point.

The choice was clear.

She just needed to act.

To turn your back on a predator was to sign your own life away.

Daenys, ever so slow, unbuckled her fur coat from her shoulders. The grey wolf eyed it, snarling. Its yellow eyes grew brighter, like two harvest moons shining against the fallen snow.

Daenys mustered up all the courage she could manage, heart pounding, throwing the fur coat across the distance to the wolf. Immediately, it took it in its maw and ripped its head back and forth wildly. If it were a hot-blooded prey, the coat would be dead with blood spattered all over the snow.

Daenys ran, wasting no time watching the display.

She hoped to blind it temporarily, but it catching the furs was a better outcome than missing entirely.

She panted, adrenaline coursing through her to give warmth and strength to her limbs. They burned with the sudden exertion. Daenys could hear the wolf throwing the fur away, not being able to gather any sustenance from the useless garb.

It barked frustratedly at her disappearance from his sight, quickly giving chase to the girl.

Daenys could only hear her heart beat out of her chest and the sounds of the snarling chasing her, closer every second. Her eyes flew around wildly, hoping to spot a low-hanging but sturdy branch. Kind of difficult when running at full speed. Screeching at a bite nipping at her heels, she jumped to the nearest branch she could reach, not having any time left to search. Daenys managed to pull half of her body over it before the wolf's teeth were on her skirts, tugging violently.

She cried out as she hit the cold floor, winded from the wall. The wolf planted itself over her, leaving no room for escape, nipping at her face. Her arm instinctively flew to protect her throat and face, resulting in the wolf's jaw clamping right down on her forearm. She screamed in agony, flames of pain running through her arm. She kicked at its flank while it snarled deep and heavily, salivating through her arm. The blood and saliva from her arm dripped down hot streaks to her face, blinding her.

When the wolf let go of her arm, bracing to go for more vital parts of her to end her squirming, Daenys accepted her fate. The kicks had done nothing. It hadn't moved an inch nor showed signs of pain. At least her death wouldn't be completely useless. The wolf would be fed, for perhaps a few weeks until it could find another easy prey.

Above her, the yellow eyes were lit with hungry and drive.

Daenys closed her eyes tight, hoping for the end to be swift.

But, she did not feel the jaws of death.

She felt the hot sting of blood being poored onto her exposed skin. She shot up, feeling the head of the wolf fall onto her chest. In a horrific pool of blood and bone, the wolf's head went to her lap as she sat up. Daenys froze, chest heaving with panicked breaths. She wanted to toss the head off of her, throw up, and cry all at once. But she was frozen with shock.

"Is that you, Princess?"

That was not Cregan.

Daenys lifted her gaze from the head to the voice. A man, tall and sharply built, dressed in all black. Perhaps close to Daemon's age, with a salt-and-peppered black beard and hair.

She could only stare at him, eyes wide with terror and adrenaline leaving her body. The pain in her arm was flaring, only growing as it bled onto the snow. It could hardlt be called snow anymore, the radious around Daenys was pure blood red, including herself. Her hair was dyed red, too, sullying into her usually perfect white. She was sure she would never feel clean again, that the hot blood would remain on her forever.

"My lady, focus on me." His words were stern as he knelt to meet the Princess, a hand on her face.

She listened, looking into his crystaline blue eyes. A northerner, he must be, born and raised. "...Ser?" She whispered, hoarse.

He nodded, focusing her face to his and not letting her gaze drift. "Where are you, Princess?"

The question startled her from despondency, confused. "Where am I? The North?" She asked.

He chuckled at her bemusement. "Aye, lass. Very good. What's your name?"

She felt annoyed suddenly, this man was asking very stupid and obvious questions. He called her Princess, he must know the answer. "Daenys Velayron. Who are you?"

"The man who saved your life. You're very welcome, by the way." He smirked crookedly, chortling when she only narrowed her eyes.

"Seamus Knott, at your service, My Lady. I am sworn to the Wall, though, so I am no Ser." He bowed dramatically, though his bitter smile showed his discontent with his position. Perhaps he was sent to the wall in a way he deemed unjustified. Whatever the reason was, Daenys did not want to be alone with him for long. The Night's Watch was loyal to the crown in respect only. She was content to visit, but only because Cregan would be there to look after her. Theives and rapers were a majority of the Watch, Daenys did not want to take any chances with them.

"Why are you so far from the wall, Seamus?" Daenys asked him, still sitting lamely in her spot.

He raised a brow, "why are you so far from your protector?"

She bristled, curling in on herself protectively. Had he been following them? For how long?

Seeing her demeanor shift, Seamus raised his hands in a show of surrender. "Not like that, your highness. I was simply speculating. A princess so far in the North hasnt happened in a century. You are news to us all. At Castle Black, we were informed that you would be arriving with Lord Stark soon."

It did make sense. Though, only three days had passed since they left–

"Step away from the Princess." A voice growled behind the Knott man. Daenys perked up at the sound, the familiar tone putting her heart and mind finally at ease. Ice was held straight to the back of his neck, a perfect extension of the Lord's arm.

Cregan stood tall and firm with his expression almost unreadable. Would he be angry with her for her recklessness, send her back to Dragonstone? Or perhaps he was more angry with the Night's Watch for spilling private information to all the residents.

"Cregan!" She gasped, trying to stand to her feet but was stopped by a wave of vertigo. Her feet were like water, unable to hold up any weight. She held her head with her uninjured hand, cradling the pain.

Cregan glanced at her briefly, brow furrowing at the state of her, before he stepped closer to Seamus. The tip was a mere inch away from the man's stubbled neck, though the older man paid it no mind. Grinning, "I saved the poor maiden, she'd be dead by now if I 'aden't. Where were you, Stark?"

Cregan's jaw ticked, "How did you find her? We're too far from any houses for this to be considered a mere coincidence." Clearly, he was ignoring the man's words. Probably because he was right. The blood had long cooled in on top of her, leaving the liquid to intensify her shivering.

Seamus looked down at him over his narrow nose, arrogantly sizing the lord up. His blood-covered steel sword was still at his side, clenched around a gloved fist. "I have been summoned weeks ago to head the beckoning of Lord Tully. I received a raven from Castle Black's Commander only a few days ago, informing me of the Warden escorting the Princess to the Wall. I merely wished to ensure our Princess' safety."

Cregan was unmoved. "I can handle that perfectly well. She is under my protection, my watch."

"Your watch hasn't even begun, Stark. You have no idea what it means to serve the wall. Sitting pretty in Winterfell while we work thanklessly for our keep." Seamus sneered, nasty expression twisting his uncomely features.

"Who's fault is that, Knott?" Cregan bit back. Daenys was left confused at their familiarity. Did they know each other?

Seamus' grip on his sword tightened, the leathery squeeze ringing in Daenys' ears unpleasantly. Her ears rang harshly, blood rushing to her head and drowning other sounds out. About to vomit her rabbit up or faint, she did not know. Dusk, who had been loyally by Cregan's legs, now moved to Daenys' side at the flick of his owner's wrist. She placed an unsteady hand on his brown shoulder, allowing him to take her weight as she leaned into his warmth. He wasn't quite as comforting as Cregan had been, but the relief was nice.

Dusk huffed into her ear, though he still stared up at Seamus the whole time. When Daenys fell asleep, the sound of steel sheathing filled her muffled ears.

🗡

She awoke to a weight over her body, bundled like a blanket. The strong scent of iron and wood filled her nose and surrounded her entirely. She opened her eyes to see Cregan at her side, under the cover of a tent. Looking around, she spotted none of her belongings. His tent. He crouched on his knee, tenderly wiping at her wound with a wet cloth. While he was deep in concentration, his brows knit together tightly, a frown dragging his handsome face down.

"Cregan?" He lifted his head to face her, turning his attention from her arm.

He smiled tightly at her, clearly still bothered by something. "My Lady, I'm glad to see you awake." Cregan told her earnestly.

Daenys sat up with his help, allowing his arm to linger at her back. "What happened to Seamus?"

Clenching his teeth, Cregan fought the urge to roll his eyes childishly. "Outside. Dusk is watching over him. I had to tend to you before I deal with him."

She kissed her teeth when she felt the sting of her arm come back. The wound was clean, though deep and raised. It would scar her for the rest of her life, a painful reminder of her dreadful night.

Cregan, noticing her downturned face, lifted her chin to look up at him instead. "It is a warrior's scar, Princess. We have that in common." He smiled more genuinely now as he lifted his sleeve to reveal his bicep, raised slightly with an old white scar, one that mirrored hers.

"Dusk bit you?" She gasped, brushing her fingertips over the scar. Gingerly, as if she thought it would still hurt him.

He chuckled fondly, watching her eyes rack over the scar. "When we first met. I was six and ten when I first became Lord of Winterfell. I was forced to imprison my uncle and his sons that day to take my place. I left for a solo hunt to be alone for a while.

He found me first. The size of a normal young wolf. We were hunting the same dear when I shot it down first. Dusk didn't take to kindly to that," He gestured to the teeth marks. "But I won that fight, gave him a scar to match. He's stayed by my side ever since." Cregan left out the part where he discovered his soul bonded to Dusk's, due to him being able to warg.

Daenys smiled, moving her hand away from his arm. "I'm glad I didn't have to fight Morningstar to get her to obey me." She laughed. Cregan laughed along, white teeth glinting in the light.

Cregan survived a direwolf attack all on his own when he was but a young man. Daenys would have died without assistance against her attacker when she was a woman grown. Clenching her jaw, she started, "I'm sorry for leaving last night. I...wish I could tell you my reasoning, but I don't know myself."

He took her face in his hand, inspecting it long and hard. Her violet eyes were half-lidded, a sign of her exhaustion. They still shined brightly in the day's light like they always did. Two perfect amethysts looking straight at him.

"You did nothing wrong, sweet girl." Cregan's thumb brushed the apple of her cheek, rubbing at the clear skin. She now noticed the feeling of the sticky blood was gone almost entirely, except from her dress. He had washed it all off of her in her unconsciousness. "You couldn't stop it, could you?"

Like he knew everything, Cregan seemed to hold all the wisdom in the world. Perhaps that was the result of being a Lord at six and ten. "I stopped walking when the wolf came." Daenys nodded.

He kept his hand in its place while he took a moment to think. "I should've been there, It's my duty to keep you safe, and I failed. Seamus is right, the creatin he is. If he hadn't come first, you wouldn't have come home to the Queen."

She smiled crookedly, telling him she was not upset. "From now on, I must insist." He focused entirely on her, making her face feel hot from the intensity. "You be with me at all times. In my tent, hunting with me, Hells, even on horseback with me if that's what it takes to keep you safe."

"I do not wish to be your burden, My Lord."

"I wish it," He shook his head, a secret pang in his heart that she hadn't called him by his name again.

"Even while you hunt? I am not quite as stealthy as you, I would just scare everything away."

"I will teach you." Cregan said firmly, leaving no further room for arguments. "We will stay in larger clearings from now on, even if it means walking greater distances. I want Morningstar to be with us as we sleep. I do not trust Knott."

"Speaking of," she started, tentatively. "How do you know him?"

He sighed deeply, reaching into his satchel bag to grab a roll of bandage. While he worked on wrapping her arm, he spoke. "My father and him grew up together. His brother, the Knott heir, warded with my father for some time to learn his Lordly duties. Seamus just tagged along because his father wished to be rid of him. He was a jealous, spiteful person even as a boy. When their father passed, he left everything to his rightful heir Kent.

Seamus killed him when he had not even been Lord for a year. He was sent to the Night's Watch by my father, a worse punishment than death for a man who only cares for titles and power. In the Watch, all brothers are equal."

"I do not want to kill him because he saved your life. I also do not want him anywhere near you." Cregan grit his teeth, frustrated at his torn opinions. He owed the man what he asked of, which was simply to accompany Cregan and Daenys to the Wall. Cregan cursed himself for his own honor, the Lord of Winterfell always kept his word.

"I promise, if he does anything, anything, to make you uncomfortable, I will take care of him." Cregan told her, earning a short nod from the Princess.

He stood, bandage firmly in place, helping her up with a sturdy hand. "Change your dress and wash up, then I will bring you hunting." It was too early to allow her to sleep, he wanted her to sleep tonight so that they may only travel during the day. They had completely lost this day thanks for the circumstances, and he wanted to spend the remaining time doing something useful. Also, he wanted to keep his mind of maiming Seamus where he stood.

While Daenys changed, she grimaced at the sight of blood that had made it way further down her dress. The garment was not fixable without a miracle, so she left it outside of the tent for Dusk to use as a temporary bed. Less weight for Mylo to carry, she supposed. Daenys scrubbed the dried blood from her neck and chest, not yet able to clean out her hair. That would take running water, not a damp cloth.

Stepping outside, she doned a new white dress, lined with grey fur. The sight of grey reminded her of the young wolf, filling her heart with guilt. She hoped he hadn't felt fear or pain in his quick end. She was met with Seamus, standing a few yards away from her tent. He wore a wild and proud grin, baring his teeth to her.

"Princess! You're awake, how delightful." She nodded her greeting stiffly. "I have a gift for you to take home, a proper warrior's trophy for the Queen." He presented the wolf's head from a bag attached to his belt, its yellow eyes still wide open, but holding none of its previous hunger. Daenys gasped in horror, bringing a hand to her neck. Cregan, who'd been waiting near the edge of camp for her, strided forward.

"Is this a cruel joke on your Princess, Knott?" He began, hand hovering over Ice. Before Seamus or Cregan could begin to argue again, Daenys rushed forward to take the pup's head in her hands. Both men stared at her in surprise.

Without saying a word, though she had many specific words for the brute, she gently held the wolf's severed head as she brought it to Morningstar, who had been laying in the edge of the clearing. She looked grumpy already, perhaps because of the direwolve's irritating presence, but purred when she saw Daenys finally coming to her. Daenys sat the head gently in front of the dragon's head, "Daor havor."

"Dracarys." Daenys commanded the mighty dragon, stepping back many paces. The three people, and the curious direwolf, watched on as the dragon scorched the head until it was naught but ash. The snow around the head had melted to reveal black burnt ground. Silence filled the campground. Daenys bowed her head, whispering to herself. "Kostagon aōha iemny sagon forever lēda sir"

She turned to look up at Seamus, who had a strange look on his face. "That was a cruel thing to do, ser. Not to me, but to the poor animal who lost it's life to starvation."

Seamus clenched his jaw at the scorning, never having been told off by a girl, much less a younger one. "Aye, Princess." Was all he said, trodding off to sulk in his own small tent.

Daenys looked to Cregan, who smiled softly at her. "That was kind of you, my Lady."

She thanked him, "could we find a river before our hunt? I wish to rid my hair of this blood before it becomes permanently red."

He laughed jovially, agreeing. "I do not think red hair would fit you. White is your color." He gestured towards her dress, then to her dragon, making her grin warmly.

🗡

Cregan led her to the nearest water source he could find, merely a small stream, but it would work just fine. Politely, Cregan turned away, although she wasn't taking any garments off. She snickered to herself at his chivalrous attitude, refusing to watch a lady wash her own hair. It took a lot of scrubbing and numb fingers before she was finally content, seeing no more red wash out.

"How does this look?" She asked the man behind her, who turned to inspect her. Wet hair still dripping onto her furs, she looked as lovely and youthful as ever. Her hair seemed longer, curls not yet bunching it up. "Beautiful, my Lady." He offered her a hand. Daenys hoped that her cheeks were not visibly red at the simple compliment as she was lifted by Cregan.

He smiled that secretive grin once again, walking ahead of her. "We will set a snare up first. Then, I'll teach you how to make a kill."

Daenys swallowed harshly. The last thing she wanted to do was kill another animal. She knew it was necessary, though. The Gods would not be spiteful for Daenys filling her stomach.

She followed Cregan into the denser part of the woods, carefully stepping in every place he did. After a while of her silence, he glanced behind himself with a concerned look, only to stifle a laugh at her delicate tiptoeing. He shook his head good-naturedly, grateful that she was trying.

Daenys watched him carefully set up a snare with the coil of metal wire in his pocket. They both crouched over it, leaving it in by a rabbithole before moving on to set another. This time, Cregan gently instructed her to do her own. It took a while, almost thrice the time he took, but he never got impaitient with her. Finally, she set the wire to the sticks coming out of the snow, triumphantly looking to Cregan for approval. "You're a natural born hunter, Princess." He declared, watching her smile with pride.

The two sat far from their many snares for hours, sitting against a sturdy pine. No words were needed as they kept a comfortable silence between them, Daenys finding herself struggling to stay awake with the peaceful atmosphere. Cregan glanced to her from her side, placing a hand over hers. He traced symbols, cracked joints, and tapped their fingers together rhymically to a pattern she followed by doing the same back to him. The focus kept her awake, her mind on the new task.

As the sun was near setting, Cregan led her to his snares first, picking up two rabbits and his wires. He whispered Northern words of respect for the animal before swiftly stabbing it in the heart. They inspected Daenys' next, finding one rabbit struggling in it. She hesitated to step forward, only urged on by Cregan. "Here," he handed her his dagger, a fine piece of steel that had a direwolf's head placed on the pommel. She kneeled next to the rabbit, thanking it quietly for its sacrifice. She took a deep breath it, releasing it as she stabbed into the white chest. Daenys paused a moment, grimacing. Blood stained her leather gloves, another reminder of the wolf. He would haunt her forever, it seemed. She clutched the rabbit gently in her arms, holding it like she held baby Aegon and Viserys. Cregan fondly smiled at her. "You did well, Princess." They collected the wire, walking back to the campsite. After wiping the dagger off with a kerchief, she handed it back to him.

Cregan gently pushed it to her chest, shaking his head. "Keep that one on you. So I know you're safe, even if we're apart."

Daenys, awestruck, nodding slowly. This was her first gift from a person that wasn't her kin and not a new dress or piece of jewelry. "I will keep it safe." She grinned up at him, earning a hearty chuckle.

They burned one of the rabbits over the fire, sharing it amongst themselves. It seemed like Dusk had gone on his own hunt, gnawing on the leftover bones of his dinner. While Daenys and Cregan settled into his tent for bed, she felt too tired to be nervous. His comforting scent surrounded her like a blanket, his warmth radiating throughout the tent. He slept without the furs of his cloak, a wonder that Daenys was curious about. Did he run so hot that the chill of night didn't bother him, only needing one fur blanket?

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Daenys snuggled into the furs he had given her for her own tent, almost grumbling at their lack of distinct scent. The two fell asleep side by side, the purrs of Morningstar soothing them to sleep.

Daor havor - not food

a wolf does not care for blood

Kostagon aōha iemny sagon forever lēda sir - may your stomach be forever full now

beheadings have become a trend in westeros, i see. i just remembered robb's direwolf and how he was grey.

did you catch that double meaning lol

also rip grey wolf, you would have loved being housed and fed in Winterfell by Cregan

I'm thinking that Morningstar is the child of Silverwing and Vermithor since they're a mated pair. We don't know if they produce asexually or not, so idk. Definitely Silverwing's baby though, since she's the only white dragon alive, but when I imagine Morningstar I see a white smaller version of Vermithor, I adore his horn and face design.

Who knows, the dragons seemed to be random colors. Arrax is white and Vermax is green, even though Syrax is yellow and theres no male whites or greens

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x oc #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark #hotd #dragondreamer

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kiame-sama · 11 days ago

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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 21

(Cater can often be found in the lake next to the Heartslabyul dorm, either lounging on Trey or just casually swimming on his own. Because Cater is a lake Nymph, he is mostly translucent and invisible among the lake water, meaning he can very easily scare his fellow dorm members. The first time he did it to Riddle he was stuck in a collar for a full two weeks and resolved to never pull the Unicorn into the water again. Trey had to save Riddle- since Riddle can't swim well- and even scolded Cater in earnest for his action.)

Warnings; yandere, yandere behavior, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, Savana king, mention of fear/trauma related to wolves/werewolves, spying, Platonic yandere goes protective, pride mentality, communal grooming, group obsessive behavior, Grim is only a good boy for his Hooman otherwise he is a menace, Nemean Lion, Werewolf, Faun, Satyr, Hellcat, Dragon, Selkie, Gnoll,

~~~~~~~~

Classes had somewhat felt like a blessing of normalcy for you and thankfully the professors were all in pleasant moods. Vargas even offered to 'set Leona straight' if the Nemean Lion ever got too rowdy or bossy. Trein made it clear that he expected you to come see him if ever anyone of Savanaclaw tried anything that made you uncomfortable. It seemed they all were ready to come to your aid if you needed them.

You didn't have many classes with Jack typically, but he seemed to suddenly be present in all of your classes. It was likely because of Savanaclaw being selected as your guards and Jack was the only first year who was an 'official' guard. There were times that you got used to seeing the Wolf-man in a passing glance, and there were times you caught sight from the corner of your eye and nearly jumped from being startled. Despite your efforts, it was proving difficult to fully relax around the Wolf.

Thankfully, most of your classes were with Ace and Deuce as well, the two Goats almost posturing around the Wolf. It was a funny sight alone and even more amusing scenario to think these Goats- who were shorter than Jack- were attempting to intimidate the Wolf. Even with the two pushing at Jack, he kept a mostly even temper and didn't even snarl at the two smaller freshmen.

Come lunchtime, however, the three were actually joking and relaxing around one another. Seeing them laugh and talk was such a stark contrast to how they had been not even hours before. It was odd enough that it made you think back to what the Ghosts had told you that morning. You knew the aura supposedly had an impact on the monster species, but what that impact specifically was eluded you.

Perhaps you would have to start keeping track of these odd instances. The notes app on your phone was a hidden enough place and you deftly entered the oddity before trying to return to the conversation at hand.

"So, (Y/n), what's the big deal letting little Grim chose Savanaclaw of all dorms? I was sure you were gonna choose Heartslabyul!"

"Well," you gently pet the little Hellcat's forehead and he purred in delight at your attention, happily munching away at some left over donuts from the day prior, "you heard his reasoning. Leona did save me that day- he saved the both of us- and I am deeply grateful for it."

"You haven't told us about that day yet, so I guess it's hard to visualize."

Ace glanced at Deuce who gave a side look at Jack. The Wolf noticed the look but was too concerned with what you were saying. You hadn't yet spoken to anyone outside of the staff and those who were with you that day about the event. Grim didn't like talking about it and even mewled while holding his ears if the subject was ever broached beyond simply mentioning it.

You idly noticed that those who sat at the other tables around your group had hushed considerably. It made you wonder how many ears had perked up to listen the moment you sat down. Even those you had not spoken too prior and only seen in passing had shown interest in you, some students passing by you several times before settling down.

You recognized some were Savanaclaw members, others were from Diasomnia. Even a few members from Heartslabyul were huddled around the tables nearest to you. It was hard not to be acutely aware of the presence of students around you. Unfortunately, you recognized that your entire week would be similar for the fact you had to stay in Savanaclaw with Leona due to the upcoming event.

"That day-"

"No!"

Grim let out a whimpering mew, holding his ears down and closing his eyes. You were quick to scoop up the little kit and cuddle him, his body shaking in stress even as you gently wrapped him in your school uniform jacket. He stopped shaking but still seemed stressed as you sighed and tried to think of a way to change the subject.

"I won't talk about it here, far too many ears listening in. Regardless, I'm told the one who orchestrated the whole thing has already been sentenced."

"Oh yeah," Deuce quickly changed topic, tilting his head curiously as his goat ears angled back slightly, "Housewarden Riddle said it was a Huoshu scientist from the Queendom of Roses. The law protecting Humans may be old, but it is clearly still enforced and it is strict. It leaves very little room for uncertainty on punishment and many consider it harsh."

"I'm going to guess it has something to do with decapitation?"

"H-how did you guess?"

"... Riddle's favorite line is 'Off With Your Head' and he had to get it from somewhere. Why not from the Queen he so often represents?"

"I guess that makes sense..."

You hummed and went back to petting Grim as Ace grabbed a head of lettuce, pulling the green leafy plant apart and digging in. As he bit through several layers and Deuce grabbed some of the leaves that fell to the table, you were again reminded of how different these monster men were from you. Not only did they have different manners, but they had such different diets. It made you wonder how you understood them at all or if it was some cosmic joke that they spoke the same language and dialect as you.

During your musings a dark shadow fell over you and your two Goat companions froze, looking over you at whoever stood behind you. Jack growled reflexively on instinct before the sound died in his throat, his reaction telling you the likely identity of the interloper. With a quick glance you saw it was Leona who was grinning down at you in an almost good humored way.

"Stand down, Jack. That's a good boy, but no treat for you."

"Leona," you scolded the arrogant Lion, "don't belittle him like he's some pet. Not okay."

"Sheesh, Mousey, what are you, one of Royal Sword Academy's goons?"

A chorus of hissing and growling came from those sitting around you as it confirmed the other students were listening in. Their response let you know this Royal Sword Academy was not favored in Night Raven College.

"Who?"

"The place Che'nya goes. They're down at the beach line of Sage Island. They're our rival school."

Deuce spoke up, offering a quick answer to your question. You tried to think back on that time after the disastrous Unbirthday Party but most of those memories were blurred and almost foggy.

"Hm... I remember a pink Cat guy with a split tail, but I don't remember much about him beyond how warm he was. Pretty sure I was potioned out on whatever Professor Divus gave to me."

"He's the guy that shielded you from Riddle's magic blast after Trey hit him. He's-"

Leona quickly interjected, basically picking you up out of your seat as you gasped in surprise and turned to hold the Lion. Clearly he was not in the mood for a lesson and his patience had been exceeded.

"That's enough chatting about those goody two-shoes, point is, Night Raven isn't like that and you are here with us, not them. So, act like a Night Raven student."

"Leona, put me down-"

"Nope. You've been studying and being a good little student all day. Were going to the greenhouse to take a nap."

"I have classes-!"

"And I have a nap to get back to. I came all this way just to get you, and I'm not leaving without my favorite little squeaky toy. Got it, Mousey?"

"Leona-"

You squeaked as he turned and began walking, holding you in his arms and not even glancing back at the three freshmen as you called out to them.

"Tell professor Divus I can't come to class because I'm being pupnapped!"

Leona didn't bother with your words as he carried you and Grim out of the cafeteria. True to his word, he seemed to be taking you to the Greenhouse and you vaguely wondered how you were going to deal with the Lion. On top of it all, you wondered how Malleus or the other Housewardens would react to the Lion's brazen behavior.

~•§•~

Deep thunder rolled overhead outside the Diasomnia dorm, cracking with green lightning. The dour prince of Briar Valley watched through his magestone as the Nemean Lion carried the Human away to the Greenhouse. If it were up to him, he would teleport straight there and take his precious treasure away from the problematic Lion. But it wasn't up to him.

He agreed to allow this Lion to guard his most treasured Hoard member, but even then he was not happy with the arrangement. It told the Dragon that he needed to work even harder to befriend the Hellcat kit as it was clear his Human valued the small fur-ball's input. Still, he kept his ears perked for when his treasure called for his aid and he would stay back until that moment... Or until that Lion tried anything more than cuddling.

Malleus was still infuriated to know that his most prized treasure was in the claws of that loose and lazy Lion. Even Lilia had not bothered to berate the Dragon for skipping his classes, well aware that the temperamental Fae was going to spend most of the week watching his prized treasure. From the magestone he inherited, the Dragon watched and waited in constant alert for any sign of extreme discomfort.

~•§•~

You sighed again as the Lion lay his head on your stomach, Little Grim having hesitantly allowed the golden beast to snuggle him. So long as little Grim was content enough with Leona, you wouldn't argue against the Lion's actions. At least the quiet gave you time to think about what steps you were going to take next.

It had become a waiting game for you, to wait until the Human ghosts found you a way home. Until then, you had to keep playing the interests of the monster men to your advantage and make sure you could keep Grim close. If a way out was presented, you would take it and make sure to take your little kit with you.

While you were lost in thought, a specific sound met your ears; sniffing.

The sound reminded you far too much of the Wolves and you felt yourself becoming more stressed as it drew closer. Your sudden stiffness and increased heart-rate did not go unnoticed as Leona's ears began to angle around before pointing the general direction of the sniffing. It was odd as you had believed Leona was sleeping, but you felt thankful that at least it was a Housewarden with you.

As the sound came closer, you heard an accompanying flop sound every so often, like something heavy being dragged. Leona actually sat up, setting Grim- who he had been cuddling- on your stomach and moving so the two of you were behind him and somewhat beneath the overhanging bushes. The Lion stared intensely as a grey muzzle of what could only be described as a squished and oddly noseless Wolf snout parted the reeds on the other side of the path sniffing and snorting loudly. What you thought was a muzzle without a nose quickly became clear when the nostrils of the beast flared above the drawn back lips of a snarling creature. Before you could scream, the plants were thrown to the side and a familiar coated giant seal could be seen, glaring with bright silvery-blue eyes at the Lion.

What surprised you was how immediately terrified Leona had become. This was a man you saw go toe to toe with a pack of Wolves and still manage to triumphantly sneer at them. His fear put you on extreme edge despite the semi-familiar look of the seal.

"... Leona?"

You whimpered out, holding a frightened and silently shaking Grim close to your chest.

Leona was unable to respond as a more than familiar voice growled out.

"You dare take my Pup before she could attend my class? Insolent little Lion!"

The fear worming inside of you melted into complete surprise as you realized just what the identity of the creature before you was. In some respects, you should have known from your own knowledge of the Selkies of your world that Divus would have a seal form. You just didn't expect to see it or the fact that he was enormous compared to most seals.

"GO BACK TO CLASS!"

~•§•~

The rather arduous day had finally come to an end as you stood now in the Savanaclaw dorm kitchen and let the day wind down to the night. The dorm was beautiful and clearly meant to mimic a more savana type setting, which Leona and Ruggie fit into far too easily. Jack stood out among the many sandy-brown and earthen colored pelts, his white snowy fur almost gleaming even in the lower light of the evening.

Divus gave Leona more than just a talking to and actually managed to chase the Lion up a tree. It was almost comical to watch how stressed Leona was in response to the Selkie and you vaguely wondered why a supposedly impervious Lion would be so terrified of a seal out of water. Granted, Divus was far larger in his seal form than he was in his Humanoid form, but it certainly gave more credit to how frightening he actually was.

Now the evening was setting in and you were faced with what they called their kitchen. You honestly hadn't expected much, seeing as none of the monster men needed to cook their food, but this was less than that. It was mostly just a pantry and fridges packed with primarily meat.

There was a place for a fire and the several racks of ribs sitting in one of the large fridges began to form an idea for what you would make. Its was going to be a meat heavy diet until you could take stock of whatever things you grabbed from Ramshackle, but Leona did tell you to use whatever you wanted in their kitchen.

There were more spices than you had expected and you began the long process of cooking up quite a bit of food, figuring you would likely have to feed at least yourself and your guards. Part of you wondered about the other dorm members and you begrudgingly decided to cook more than you planned even for your carnivore guards to eat. It was only to keep the peace as you were certain problems were going to arise from your presence alone.

Speaking of problems, it had been suspiciously quiet all evening. Leona swore to you he was going to keep an eye on Grim while you cooked and even insisted on it. The only thing that convinced you was that Grim wanted to look around the dorm. Still, for a dorm full of students it was suspiciously quiet.

~•§•~

An alluringly warm smell filled the dorm and seemed to turn every nose kitchen bound. It was rare for every member of Savanaclaw to be out all at once for so long, but the smells from the kitchen were near divine and drew in the entire group. Despite the many curious looks, none dare cross the clear threshold established by the leader of their Pride.

The sun bronzed ruler of the dorm lay in a lounging position on a stack of rocks still cooling from the afternoon sun, lazily grooming the little cat beast that sat impatiently in his arms. The ever loyal Gnoll lay directly by the mouth of the kitchen, effectively acting as a door to the delicious scents. Even the new pup Jack- who still had yet to prove himself despite his abilities in magic- somehow sat next to the two defacto leaders of the dorm.

Savanaclaw had no Vice-Housewarden as it needed no Vice-Housewarden, but it was still understood that Ruggie was the next to turn to if Leona was shirking his duties. Then there was Jack. The sophomores couldn't believe Jack of all students was selected. Most of the dorm couldn't believe they were selected at all to play host.

They figured after the way they had been accused and treated when this seemingly mythical Human got shomehow hurt, they would not have to play host. Now, as those sublime scents teased at the imagination and stomachs growled for food, it was hard to imagine such a gift going to another dorm.

Naturally, those playing in the Spelldrive Tournament were expecting the chance to get a taste of the divine smell, but the others were going to be left longing for scraps. Despite how some whined, hissed, and even growled, none had the courage to challenge the King of their pride.

Beyond just the smell of the food, the smell of the Human on Jack had drawn in many curious noses. The moment he returned was the moment several students began sniffing at his white fur. Jack was unaccustomed to such behavior from his dormmates as most just did the typical testing the new members and even fought from time to time all in good fun. This was different.

Still, so long as he was a guard he could handle the more than intrusive behavior. It was worth it to Jack. That being said, everyone was more than a little surprised at the almost sagely patience shown by the great Lion.

"But when?"

"Whenever she's done."

"When will that be?"

"Whenever it is."

"But I want it to be now."

"She's busy right now."

Grim was whining and asking questions he had already asked five times while Leona smoothed the kit's fur. Admittedly, Grim was being incredibly tolerant of the grooming behavior and it was just enough to keep Leona calm even with the questions. The other members of the dorm were stunned Leona was even tolerating the small cat-beast's presence especially with how irritating he was being.

"But why?"

"You said you wanted to look around the dorm."

"But I thought I was gonna go right back to Mama after."

"You should have clarified."

"But I want to go back to Mama."

"She's busy right now."

"How much longer?"

"As long as it needs to be."

"I don't want a bath!"

"Sucks for you. Only clean cubs get food."

"... How much longer?"

~•§•~

You sat looking out over what seemed to be an endless savana that stretched out beyond what you could see. In your lap sat a full bellied Grim who purred and lay in your affectionate arms. From what you could tell when the food finally finished and the near ravenous stares of the many students looking at the food in extreme longing, you were in for a long week.

Leona only allowed a select few to eat their fill, obviously including Ruggie and Jack, but four others you hadn't met were allowed as well. Naturally you and Grim were able to take whatever you wished and Leona made it clear to even Ruggie that you two got your food first. It threw you off a bit when- as soon as that first group had their fill- the rest was set out and descended upon by the remaining members of the dorm.

The way they ate was as if they all had been starving, yet none of them looked even close to how Ruggie had appeared when you first arrived at the school. You figured they just liked the way that the food had smelled while cooking and wanted to eat their fill. Despite the almost aggressive behavior they showed one another, none were willing to take even a sniff in your direction. Any that glanced at you were quickly sent scurrying off by Leona who glared poisonously from next to you.

Now you were winding down and sitting in Leona's room, his large bed sporting an assortment of pillows as it almost reminded you of the way a cat-bed from your world was built. You figured you would be in Leona's room, Ruggie and Jack moving blankets in as well despite Leona's grumbling about not inviting them. Your hand idly fidgeted with the magestone that hung from your neck as you found yourself surprisingly missing the overbearing Dragon and the usual faces of the Hoard.

"Oi, Mousey, get to bed. We've gotta get up early tomorrow to train for the Spelldrive, so you're getting up too. Got it?"

You looked back at Leona who was laying on his bed, tail flicking impatiently to get you to join him. It was a little odd that he expected you to join him but refused to let Jack and Ruggie. Maybe it had something to do with Nemean Lions and how they socially behaved. With a soft sigh, you carried Grim to the bed, keeping a fair distance from the Lion despite his scowl.

"You gonna cling to the edge of the bed like a frightened mouse, shivering in the cold, or are you going to come over here already?"

"Wha-?"

You gasped as Leona pulled you down to lay next to him, wrapping one muscled arm over your side and pulling the blankets up over you and Grim. He was fairly warm and the temperature in the dorm had dropped drastically with the sun, so you could tolerate his almost aggressive cuddling. In the distance, you could have sworn you heard the sound of rolling thunder.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #humans are extinct twst au

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zara-renata · 4 days ago

Text

Hook, Line, Sinker | ao3 | masterlist

I did a little holiday prompt requests thing, and some people were kind enough to send requests in. @starfallforest, @astracora, and several anons. Thank you so much for sending your requests. I combined the requests into one story, which turned out to be a lot more angsty than cute? But I hope you like it anyway. There's one prompt I couldn't fit in because this takes place between Christmas and New Year's, but I'm hoping to be able to do a little oneshot for the last request, depending on time. Anyway, there's a happy ending for everyone in this story, except for one fish and a guy who deserved it. @wearysparrows is the reason Sylus smells like he does in this story, and her fantastic fishing story set in hot springs got me thinking about fishing with Sylus. Edit: @always-just-red also sent a prompt (snowed in) and she did a gorgeous response to one I sent her. But when I went back to my inbox on PC to confirm everyone who sent one, hers didn’t show up and I thought I had hallucinated her request because I admire her stuff so much😭😭😭 and now I see it on mobile again, and can confirm that I am not losing my mind. Thank you for the prompt, I’m sorry this tag is late!!!

Summary: Sylus invites you to a remote cabin in the woods for some fishing before New Year's. When the trip is over, you have a new boyfriend and a new addition to the Crow family. No, it's not a human baby. Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc. This story contains banter, fluff, kissing, angst, a happy ending. CW: canon typical violence. This involves fishing since Sylus likes to fish, so there are a lot of descriptions of fishing and what you have to do to a fish to uh, fish. There's also a pretty grave instance of animal injury/cruelty (not perpetrated by any of our favs), but the animal is fine in the end.

The prompts I received:

falling into soft snow to create snow angels, flailing wildly on the ground.

in a mountain lodge, snowed in from a heavy snow storm.

jamming out to a christmas song, and inflicting the pain of holiday songs on someone else

You see him, in the distance.

It is night. This far up north, it is night all the time, this time of year.

The moon hangs huge in the sky, its reflected sunlight reflected in the snow, a loop without end. Even here in this endless night, you have no trouble seeing him in the distance.

A lonely figure, surrounded by a vast frozen plane of blue and white. It’s strange, seeing him wrapped in blue and silver, when you associate him with lava glow, ashfall.

Circling the silent lake, mountain peaks thrust into the sky, carving into the horizon. The teeth of some great beast, its bones bleached white in the cold and dark, in the endless summer sun on the other side of every year. Between their jagged edges, stars bleed together, liquid gold and silver spilling across the sky. Time loses meaning in the endless dark, swallowed by the endless light, drowned by the dark again. A dragon eating its own tail. This starlight, too, reflected in the ice underneath your feet. Who needs the sun, when this much molten light illuminates the path forward to the man who has summoned you here? The only man you have been able to see since he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed.

As your feet crunch in the thick snow, as you approach the shore of the frozen lake where the man is waiting for you, you wonder how you got here. When did it start? With the invitation slipped through the mail slot of your humble flat, without address? Crimson wax, pressed with the seal of a crow in flight. The paper is heavy in your calloused hands. It smells delicious, like cloves. The scent is familiar to you now. You would know who this letter is from, even if you didn’t recognize its owner’s sigil, from its smell alone. You think of soft, pale skin. An open collar. A sweep of silver. The crimson wax seal stares at you like a glowing eye.

I need your expertise with a tricky problem. Your options are to come to me, or to come to me.

A plane ticket falls out of the envelope as you read the chaotic, sophisticated handwriting, almost indecipherable in its erudition.

You wonder how you got here. If not the invitation, was it before that? Opening the door every time Sylus stood on the other side. Watching him carefully as he moved about your flat, as he trailed his fingers along your houseplants. As he sipped from the wine glass you had bought in a set after the first time he showed up at your door and you realized you didn’t have any proper glasses for the wine he had brought as a gift to share. An apology? For his hands around your throat? For starvation, and thirst? The wine that tasted of sunspattered fields of flowers spilling down to a cliff, an abyss below. The taste of a memory you couldn’t quite summon, its shadows at the edges of your dreams every time you slept. Wine that warmed your body in the way this man’s eyes warmed you as they caressed you with touchless touch.

Since he released you, you wondered if he was playing a longer, crueler game of hunter and prey. Angler and fish. If every time he shows up at your door, he’s dangling bait, and the moment you wrap your lips around it, try to taste, he’ll hook you, jerk you from everything you’ve ever known, and flay you alive.

But you invite him in, as he requests. Come in, Sylus. You watch him, watching his gaze as it touches everything in your home, as it touches you as his eyes return to your face. He inhabits your flat in the same way he inhabits your mind. Fully. His presence an eclipse. His scent lingers after he leaves. He never asks to stay. He brings a gift to share—wine, a meal, a game of luck, a record. You sit on the couch next to him, and his body heat lures you like an open hearth, but you maintain your distance, the fear of what happens if you finally reach for the fire, if you finally take the bait—such fear gives you the willpower to keep a sliver of chill air between his skin and yours. He never closes the distance, waiting for you to be the one to choose. And when the record is finished, or the film’s credits are rolling, or the game has been won, lost, tied, he stands. Shrugs back into his coat. Only then does he run the knuckles of one big hand down your cheek. Only then does he lean down, whisper a kiss against the edge of your mouth, and then he leaves.

Eventually, he seems to grow tired of the confines of your small home. He begins to ask you out into the world. At twilight, where your world ends and his begins. Daylight bleeding out into night. Night drifting into ash as the day breaks.

Sometimes you say yes. You take his offered hand, his offered gifts of clothing for the occasion, the shoes he kneels to help you slip on your feet. You dress in clothing he buys for you, you sit in his box seat at the ballet, the orchestra’s layered notes flooding your senses but not drowning out your hand in his, your hand he doesn’t let go of through the entire performance. You turn and study his face in the dim light of the luxurious theater, as dancers flow like water, like gazelles, living art across the stage. His face is more fascinating to you than any choreography offered by the finest artists in the world. His profile, his long, uneven nose. The pout of his lips. His hair looks so soft, you want to lift your clasped hands and touch it. You resist the urge, turn your gaze back to the dancers. None of them are as beautiful as the creature lounging next to you in the dark.

Sometimes you know that if you say yes, this will be the time you can’t resist the dangling bait— your teeth, your tongue hungry in a way that frightens you for what he seems to be offering. You feel the hook come so close to your soft lips. The cold metal, like the barrel of a gun that you want to mouth so long as it’s his finger on the trigger. You spook, a prey’s instinct to flee from the lurking, patient predator. You turn down as many invitations as you accept. A compromise with yourself. You’re straddling the twilight—one foot in night, one in day. A knife’s edge that you know will eventually slice you in half if you don’t make a choice.

He accepts your refusals easily. Pretends to believe your flimsy excuses. You know that he knows through Mephisto, through the eyes he seems to have everywhere, that you’re lying when you say you have plans when you don’t. He accepts your fabrications with grace. The next day, a gift always arrives. If you had told him you were going ice skating with Tara, a new pair of skates, in your size, the leather supple, the blades sharp. If you had told him you were going to the arcade with Xavier, a limited edition plushie, one you’ve never managed to catch. If you had told him you were going to a museum with Zayne, a priceless artifact, once owned and cherished by someone who died tragically, along with the certificate of authenticity tucked into the jewel-encrusted box. If you had told him you were attending an art exhibition with Rafayel, an original painting by the featured artist would suddenly appear, hanging on your bedroom wall. The painting that would have been your favorite of the collection, if you had actually attended.

If you do actually go out with friends, the next day, there is a different gift. If you had actually gone drinking with Tara, then a full box of hangover remedies, self-care items for a home spa day. If you had actually gone for a jog with Zayne, then muscle-pain cream, a yoga mat and foam rollers, all to relieve the effects of being sore the next day. If you had actually had hotpot with Xavier, then medicine for indigestion, a fruit basket for supplementary vitamins skipped in a meat-heavy meal. If you had actually gone to the beach with Rafayel, then aloe vera, aftersun care for your sunburned skin.

You open each box. You swallow the remedies, eat the healthy food, massage the cream into your skin. If you imagine that it is his hand, and not your own—well, even Mephisto can’t see into your mind with his mechanical eye. Pulling the fabric of clothing he bought for you over your body, dabbing aloe vera onto the fragile skin under your eyes—this is as close as you will allow yourself to come to him.

Because you remember his hands on your throat.

You remember the sound of a human body bursting at the snap of strong fingers.

You’ve seen him quietly, efficiently, break the neck of an unscrupulous merchant.

Kick a man to his knees and execute him in the dark, the silencer rendering the gunshot a small puff of air, no louder than the last gasp from a pair of doomed lungs.

What scares you the most is not that he is capable of such ruthless, quick, vicious violence.

It is the way you feel, watching him kill someone.

You feel more moved by the dance of death Sylus leads than all of the ballet performances you could ever hope to see at his side.

You are a thirsty spectator, absorbing the line of his hands as he snaps someone’s spine, the delicate veins under his soft skin. The strength in his forearm as he pulls the trigger. The elegant line of his legs as he curb stomps any fool who violates Sylus’s code of ethics that only he knows the tenets of.

You watch him like you’d watch a nature documentary, shot in slow motion—the panther stalking the gazelle in the long grass, the satisfaction of teeth sinking into flesh and tearing.

You are fascinated, and terrified.

He may be courting you now. Fascinated by the challenge you present. Interested in the power you can offer him through your resonance. But how long will it take for this panther to turn from his current prey and begin to hunt you instead? He already almost killed you once. What stops him from doing it again?

Can such a creature be capable of the unwavering love you crave?

What kind of person does it make you, if you think that you could accept him, the taint of his hands and all of the suffering they have wrought, if you could be assured that at least you would always be safe from his savagery?

The combination of these questions reinforces your resistance to the temptation of reaching out and taking his offered, bloody hand. Of swallowing the dangling bait, concealing the wicked hook.

You don’t know when it started. If it was the invitation. If it was the courtship. If maybe, perhaps, it was the first time you knelt at his feet, and he touched your body with such reverent viciousness. You don’t know what sequence of events has led you to this moment. As you step out onto the ice, soaked in moon and starlight, glowing blue in the night, the white bubbles trapped mid-rise in the frozen lake, as the ice grips attached to your warm boots bite into the ice, as you walk through the silence towards the man ahead, alone in the dark.

You received the invitation. You thought perhaps he was in trouble, and needed your resonance to navigate something dangerous. You didn’t think to refuse this time. Christmas was over—a quiet, lonely affair, even though it was filled with colleagues and friends. Sylus didn’t invite you to celebrate with him, seemingly content for you to attend your work holiday party with Xavier and Tara, the party thrown by Rafayel and Thomas at a gallery downtown, the party at Akso Hospital. Nothing could fill the gaping hole left by Caleb and your grandmother’s death. On Christmas day itself, you lit candles for them and drank two bottles of wine until you passed out.

The next day, the invitation arrived.

You held the heavy, silken textured paper in your hands. You felt the headache of your hangover pounding behind your eyes. You thought about the optional overtime you were considering taking between Christmas and New Year’s, just to relieve the solitude.

You think of the last time you saw Sylus, at the beginning of December. The rough knuckles of his hand along your cheek as he said goodbye, as he watched with ember-glow eyes as you walked to your apartment building’s entrance from the back of his motorcycle. As you looked out your window from your living room, saw him still waiting. As the engine roared in the quiet early morning street and he finally sped away, apparently assured that you were inside and okay. As if you were never not okay. No matter what happened, you’d be okay.

You wonder when it started. When being okay no longer felt like enough. When did you start getting greedy for more than okay?

So you picked the plane ticket off the floor. Saw the destination—a place you never dreamt of going.

You packed as warmly as you could. You didn’t have much time—Sylus didn’t leave much margin for preparation. You received the invitation in the morning and were on a night flight that evening.

The flights were long. Uneventful. On the last leg, you sat next to a woman with a little boy. He was sweet, with light colored hair like his mom and blue eyes. You looked into his sweet face and wondered what Sylus was like as a little boy. Tried to picture scarlet eyes in his round face. You wondered if you were ever so young, so small, so fragile. You’ve never felt young in your whole life. His mother seemed exhausted, but stayed awake the whole flight as the little boy fell asleep in her lap.

At the airport, the mother and boy were greeted by a dark-haired man about as big as Sylus with his son’s blue eyes, and he hugged them like it had been years since he had seen them.

You stood, looking around. There was no one waiting to hug you. To hold you in relief. You didn't know why you expected Sylus to be waiting on the other side of your flights.

You hadn’t planned this far ahead. You hefted your heavy carry-on backpack onto your back and followed the signs to the exit. Once satisfied that you knew how to get out, you were reaching into your pocket for your phone when you saw two familiar men standing at the baggage claim holding a sign that just said THE HUNTER on it in messy block letters.

Luke turned his head and caught sight of you, then nudged Kieran. They came loping over to you like two eager wolf puppies.

The relief you felt surprised you, seeing them. They had been nothing but kind, playful with you since Sylus released you, so many months ago, whenever you encountered them. They pulled you into their bets, into their movie nights, into their video game marathons, anytime you happened to visit the base while in the N109 Zone on a mission.

“You came!” Luke grinned, the deep scarring along the right side of his face twisting his lip. It did nothing to diminish his handsomeness.

“You should have told Boss. He wasn’t sure if you would take him up on his invitation. He has been an absolute mess,” Kieran scolded you, but also seemed amused at the emotional state of his employer.

You tried to imagine Sylus being a mess. Failed.

“I didn’t have much time to decide and prepare. Sorry.” You took in the twins, whom you’d only ever seen in black leather. They were wearing black parkas, fur-lined, thick ski pants, huge boots.

“Don’t be sorry, stupid. We’re glad you’re here.” Luke was cheerful, threading one big hand under your backpack strap and easing it off your back. “But Kieran’s salty ‘cause he lost the bet.”

“I thought you would refuse, just to vex Boss,” Kieran said, shrugging. “But Luke’s lying. I’m fine losing this particular bet.”

“C'mon, he’s waiting.” Luke took your hand and lead you into the dark, frigid night of the Arctic settlement you had never even heard of before seeing the plane ticket in the invitation. Kieran followed close behind you, pulling up his hood against the freezing wind.

They herded you to a big four wheel drive SUV.

“First we drive, then it’s just the snowmobile when the road runs out. Change into these,” Kieran thrust a pile of heavy winter gear into your hands as Luke maneuvered the SUV out of town on a thin ribbon of icy road. In the dark, there were only the vehicle’s headlights, the pale snow-packed hillsides on either side of the road, blue in the reflected light of the moon.

Christmas songs were still playing on the radio, despite Christmas having just passed. Kieran hummed along as Luke began to belt out, in a surprisingly gorgeous singing voice that rivaled Sinatra’s, Oh, by gosh, by golly, It's time for mistletoe and holly, Tasty pheasants, Christmas presents, Countrysides covered with snow…

You put on the heavy black parka over your clearly insufficient winter coat you brought with you. Pulled the ski pants over your jeans. Laced up the boots that fit perfectly to replace your own leather combat boots. You pulled the mad bomber hat over your head, its furred flaps immediately a relief over your cold ears. You were cozy. White Christmas came on the radio. Kieran sang this time, in the same beautiful tones as Luke, Christmas Eve will find me, Where the lovelight gleams, I'll be home for Christmas, If only in my dreams…

You hadn’t felt this settled since last year, leaning against Caleb on the couch, with your grandmother sitting on your other side, watching It’s a Wonderful Life.

You wonder when it started—when the twins started to feel safe, like home to you. Maybe it started the first time you woke up in Sylus’s theater room, with a twin on either side of you, both asleep as you just were, their heads resting on each of your shoulders. The sixth movie in the Alien franchise was just ending on the big screen. Sylus stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, just watching the three of you. You didn’t dare move in case you woke them up.

Help. You had mouthed at him.

One corner of his mouth had ticked up. The scarlet and ink of his evol drifted across the room, lifted both twins’ heads gently, positioned their big bodies so that they were resting against each armrest instead of on your shoulders. You stood, stretched, felt his eyes on you.

Time to go, you said.

Must you? he asked.

Of course. Work to do. But you had just stood there, staring at him, the twins’ quiet snores filling the silence after the movie’s score ended. He looked so handsome in his soft sweater. Approachable. Human. Yours.

You reminded yourself of his hands snapping a man’s fingers, one by one, until he gave up the information Sylus needed. You reminded yourself of his hands around your throat.

You wonder how much longer you’ll have the strength to resist the bait that Sylus is dangling in front of you. The hook, gleaming in the moonlight.

In the cozy cabin of the SUV winding through the endless, snowy night, with the twins’ voices softly singing Christmas songs, you gave in to the need to sleep. To sleep off the rest of your hangover that still lingered in the airplane, to prepare for whatever help Sylus needed from you when you finally arrived at your destination. You were safe with them, after all.

You didn’t dream.

You were awoken by Luke leaning over you, shaking your shoulder gently. The SUV was parked next to a small building with two snowmobiles parked in front of it.

“Time for part two of your winter wonderland tour,” he said, pulling you from the vehicle. Kieran was loading the last of a bunch of stuffed bags onto the back of one of the snowmobiles, the other one seemingly already fully loaded. He strapped your carry-on in with the rest. He had a large rifle slung over his back.

Luke produced a coin from his pocket. “Heads or tails?”

You didn’t even question him. “Heads.”

He flipped it, agilely despite the thick gloves he wore. He caught it, revealed it in his palm. “Tails. Damn. Kieran gets you this time,” he pouted.

Kieran let out a cheerful Whoop! and then beckoned you to him. “You know how to drive this thing?” you asked, a little dubious.

“Sylus taught us,” he smiled reassuringly.

He swung the big rifle from his back to his chest, so it hung diagonally over his torso.

He noticed your gaze. “Bears.”

“Of course,” you murmured, because what else could you say?

“Hold on tight.”

You had already come this far. You took his offered helmet, watched him put on his. You don’t know when it started. The trust you had in Sylus’s skills as a teacher. His faith in his men. Their loyalty to him.

You threw your leg over the snowmobile and let Kieran pull your arms around his waist. You leaned your head against his broad back.

The ride was exhilarating, even as tired as you were. Careening over the snow, the wind, the steep hills, the pine trees. Luke and Kieran maneuvered the snowmobiles competently, safely. You suspected that they weren’t trying to flip them or race to see who arrived first out of respect for your clearly exhausted state. You hugged Kieran tightly in thanks. You let yourself drift, and time passed like a dream.

The trees thickened. The hills narrowed. The snowmobiles passed along a narrow ridge, and then Kieran was slowing to a halt. He squeezed your forearm with a gloved hand, said softly into the now silent night, “You’re here.”

You leaned back, let go of him. Stepped off the snowmobile on wobbly legs. You took off the helmet and gasped.

A frozen lake, stretching, stretching, the far shore blurred into snow-covered pines. The mountains soared into the star-filled sky beyond the trees. Your eyes caught on a lone figure, in the middle of the icy expanse.

Luke moved to your side. “Lift your foot.” You did, again not questioning, trusting that he had a reason. He strapped ice grips onto your boot. Repeated on the other side.

“We’ll see you at the lodge,” he said as he straightened, patting your shoulder.

“That’s it?”

“He’s waiting for you. What more is there?” he asked.

“Are you ever afraid that he’ll turn on you?” you asked, suddenly. You didn’t know why.

Luke just looked at you thoughtfully. Kieran moved closer, feet crunching in the snow. “No,” he answered for the both of them. “And if he ever does, we’ll have deserved it.”

“How are you so sure?”

“He doesn’t use violence without a reason. And once he makes a decision, he doesn’t go back on it.”

“What did he decide in your case?” you asked, not able to help yourself, out here at the end of the world, in the echoing silence.

“That we’re his, to use, to see if we’re up to the challenge to survive. And once he decides something is his, he protects it. Why would he break his own tools?”

“And he also loves us,” Luke added cheerfully. “Although he won’t admit it out loud.”

You searched each of their faces in turn, mirrors, marked and unmarked, trying to see if they were messing with you. They let you.

“Do you love him?” you asked.

They turned and looked at each other. “We don’t know what that feeling is, even though we can recognize it in others. Because Luke is me, and I am him. Is that feeling love? If he dies, I die. But with Boss,” Kieran pauses thoughtfully. “I think it would feel like dying, if anything happened to him. Even though we’d survive. Is that love?”

He turned to look at you again.

You thought about Caleb, smiling at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life. Teasing you for crying, even as he had tears in his own eyes, despite how many times you two had seen the movie already. How you felt like you were dying, ever since he died.

You thought about Sylus, Imagined how you’d feel, if he never called again. If he disappeared as abruptly as he appeared in your life.

“I think that’s love,” you whisper into the arctic night.

“Then we love him.”

You nodded.

“Are we done with the heart to heart?” Luke teased.

You nodded again.

“Okay. He’s waiting. Don’t keep him waiting for much longer. It was funny for a while, but now it’s starting to hurt,” Luke said.

You looked at him, bewildered. “What was funny?”

Kieran gently knocked Luke with his shoulder. “We’ll tell you later. Go to him.”

With that, they turned, mounted the snowmobiles, and sped along the shore of the lake, not back the way you had just come, but toward what you presumed was the lodge they mentioned.

Now, you see him in the distance. The snowmobile engine roar fades into silence. Your spiked ice grips crunch loudly with each step. The sky is a bowl overflowing with diamonds, pouring over the rims of the mountains.

You find yourself walking faster, the eagerness you’ve been suppressing breaking its leash like an unruly dog now that you’re so close to the man you’ve missed since the beginning of December, despite yourself and all of your fears.

His figure grows in your field of view as you approach him, until you finally reach him. He turns his head. He’s wearing a thick band around his ears but no proper hat like you are, so his silver hair shines in the bright moonlight, in the reflected moonlight from the snow, a ricochet of pearl.

Your breath catches in the frigid air as you meet his eyes, gleaming in the diamond night.

“You came,” he says, as if surprised. Pleased.

“My choices were ‘to come to you,’ or ‘to come to you,’” you say softly.

“If I had known that was all it took to get you to stop refusing half of my invitations, I would have stopped leaving them open ended long ago.” He lifts an arm, beckons you closer with a gloved hand. “But Is that the only reason? The lack of choice?” He’s watching you carefully, and it feels like he’s standing above you, instead of sitting below you on a little camping folding chair. He’s holding a fishing rod in his hand, the line sinking into a small hole cut in the ice. A large black hiking backpack, a rifle strapped to the bottom, and what looks like a wine corkscrew made for a giant sit next to the chair. A thermos is in one of the chair’s cupholders.

You consider him. Think about how careful you’ve been around him, for months now. How guarded. You think about the look shared between Kieran and Luke, about loving him, their faith in him. You think of how gently he moved them when they fell asleep during the Alien movie night marathon. You came to the ends of the earth for him.

“I missed you,” you admit. It feels like pulling a tooth that has been loose and hurting for a long time. You take a step forward, and it feels like you’re offering him the tooth, an aching, bloody part of yourself.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he says, accepting your offering graciously, with no trace of his usual impenetrable arrogance. He looks softer under the moonlight, the starlight.

You give him your gloved hand, let him pull you forward until you’re standing between his spread legs. Even in a camping chair, he sits like a bored king. Like at the ballet. Like when he forced you to resonate with him, when you first met him.

You look down into his upturned face, realizing only now just how true your admission is, how terribly you have missed him this past month. Showing up at your door. Inviting you out. His gifts in beautifully wrapped boxes. Just him. His eyes, warm and red.

“Have you been here, all along?” you ask.

He sets the fishing pole in what looks like a little stand dug into the ice specifically for holding it.

“Yes.” He reaches for your other hand, now holding both your hands in his. You can’t feel his heat through his gloves, through yours. You don’t like it.

“Fishing?”

“Fishing. Hunting. Thinking.”

You freeze a little, not from the cold, but the finality of his tone. You don’t want to know what he has been thinking about.

Maybe you never had to take the bait at all. Maybe he would have always grown bored, changed his mind in the waiting. Decided to destroy you just the same as if you had bitten what he was offering. Perhaps, like his latest invitation, you never truly had a choice at all.

You don’t want to know, yet. If he invited you to the end of the world to finally gut you, you don’t want to know yet.

“Your invitation said you needed my expertise. What’s your tricky problem?” you ask instead of asking what he’s been thinking about.

“Straight to business?” He lifts an eyebrow.

You try to memorize his face. Just in case. His wide mouth. His sharp canine teeth. His beautiful nose.

“The sooner your problem is solved, the sooner you can return to peacefully fishing without me scaring all the fish.”

“You’re not that intimidating,” he teases. You scowl at him. “Have you fished before?”

“No.” You trace the beauty of his irises, the frown line between his brows with your eyes. “Either way, it’s cruel.”

His dark silver eyebrows lift in curiosity. “Explain.”

“You either torture a fish for your own ego and pleasure by catching and releasing it. Or you catch it to kill it. Either way, the fish is never the same.”

He tilts his head, eyes never leaving yours. “You eat meat with Xavier when you go for hotpot. You eat the steak on your plate when we go to dinner. Is it much crueler, to be the one to capture, kill, and eat the animal yourself?”

You know he’s right. If you cared so deeply for the welfare of the animals you eat, you’d be a vegan.

“Maybe I’m a coward, for not wanting to be the one to butcher the animal myself,” you concede.

“Or maybe you’re afraid of how much you’d enjoy it.”

Your breath is a cloud in the air, puffing into the still night. You watch it mingle with his, dissipate into the air.

“I don’t enjoy killing wanderers. Why would I enjoy killing a fish?”

“Because you admire the wanderers. Do you marvel at fish the same way?”

You don’t know how he knows how much you regret often having to kill beautiful, lethal beasts. The only comfort you have is knowing that they can’t hurt anyone else when you’re through with them.

“That doesn’t mean I enjoy their demise.”

“Perhaps enjoy isn’t the right word. Perhaps it’s simply that you’re scared of how little you care for the fish you’re killing for the necessity of your sustenance.”

You think about Sylus, snapping the neck of the merchant who was selling counterfeit protocore syndrome drugs in an N109 Zone neighborhood.

You think about Sylus, breaking every finger on the man’s hand who Sylus knew was withholding the location of a human trafficker, luring victims in with promises of a steady job. By the time they realized that they would actually be fodder for illegal protocore transplants, it was too late.

You think about Sylus, kicking the human trafficker to his knees, executing him in the street, leaving his corpse for the scavengers or a more merciful soul to come and collect.

“I’m cold, Sylus,” you say.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve admitted weakness in front of me, kitten.” He draws you down into his lap. Opens the cap of the thermos and places it in your gloved hands. Wraps his arms around you. “Normally you just hide behind me when the wind is cold, when you could have just asked me to take you somewhere warm.”

You watch the steam rise from the hot drink inside. Take a sip. It’s mulled wine. You detect a hint of cloves, along with the citrus, cinnamon, star anise. It warms you almost as much as Sylus’s eyes.

“You’ve told me enough times now to just tell you when I’m cold.”

“And all it took was luring you to the arctic to get some obedience out of you,” he grouses.

You sink into him, let your head, still covered in the mad bomber hat, rest under his chin. It’s not close enough. All the layers of your clothes seem like an unacceptable distance between your body and his.

“You still haven’t told me about your tricky problem.”

“Would you like to learn how to ice fish, if I promised you that we’ll eat what we catch instead of needlessly tormenting them?” he asks, instead of answering your implied question.

As usual, it will take skill and finesse to get the truth out of him. Perhaps this is how he feels about you, as you accept half his invitations, refuse the other half. As you keep him at arm’s length, even as you imagine his hands working his gifts into your skin.

“I didn’t know you like to fish,” you say, instead of answering. A little petty.

He makes a noise of agreement. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Which isn’t fair, considering how much you know about me.” You take another sip, cuddled against him. It soothes your aching head.

He hugs you tighter. “What would you like to know?”

“Why do you like to fish?”

He answers easily. “The quiet. The solitude. The simple pleasure of a job well done, the reward of sustenance. A feeling of self sufficiency. Enjoying nature. All things that are lacking in the N109 Zone.”

You hadn’t realized that he would crave such things, based on his lifestyle in the city he rules. You’re surprised. Pleased. As if you have a right to be pleased by how the things you love about hiking and camping, away from Linkon City, are the same things he enjoys about fishing.

He’s not yours to be proud of, to mirror. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “What else do you like?”

“How about I answer by inviting you along with me for each one, and you accept each of my invitations, as you did this one?”

You wonder what you’d be accepting, if you say yes to this proposition.

You think about the bait, dangling over your head. The hook flashing in the starlight.

You stall. “Let’s see how teaching me to fish goes, and then I’ll give you my answer.”

“Ever cautious, kitten,” he murmurs. “A sample of the goods for you, then.”

You sit up, screw the lid back on the thermos, slide from his lap. You tuck the thermos in his pack, pick up his fishing pole and hand it to him.

“I’ve been sitting here for over an hour without a bite,” he says. “Let’s move to a different spot on the lake and see if we have better luck there.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, and move to pick up the big hiking pack. He tsks, lifting it from the ground with his evol before you reach it. He straps it to his back, flicks the folding chair closed, and hands it to you.

“You can carry this.” He hands the fishing pole to you next. “And this.”

You roll your eyes. “You act like I’m incapable of carrying heavy things.”

“Just because you’re capable, doesn’t mean you should have to. When I’m with you, let me carry the weight for you.” He bends over, picks up the giant corkscrew. You look at him inquiringly.

“Ice augur. We’ll use it to drill another hole in the ice.”

You eye the wicked-looking edges, the handle for turning it, driving it into the ice. “You could kill a man with that.”

Sylus hums in agreement, turning to lead you to another part of the lake. Your boots, his boots, the teeth biting the ice crunch with each step. “But it’s inefficient. Messy.”

You admire the width of his shoulders—they look even bigger in his big puffy parka. “You’ve actually used it to kill someone.” You shake your head, in wonder, in disapproval, you’re not sure which.

“You’re the one who suggested it.”

You scoff. “You’re the one who actually did it, Sylus.”

He shrugs, as if the heavy pack weighs nothing on his shoulders. “I was bored.”

“What happens, if I accept all of your invitations?” you ask quietly. The wind isn’t blowing. The night is still. Your voice carries in the hushed silence, along with the white of your breath in the air. “Will you grow bored?”

He doesn’t turn. His hair shines in the liquid night light.

“When you accept is when the fun actually begins. I doubt I’ll ever be bored again.”

You stare at his back.

“Here,” he says. He shrugs the pack off his shoulders, lets it gently fall to the ground. Drives the fishing pole holder thingy into the ice. He turns to you, gestures for you to unfold the chair.

You flip it out, set it on the ice, as he sets the sharp tip of the augur against the ice and holds it in one hand while twisting the handle with the other. Slowly, it cuts its way through. The shaved ice begins to build, reminds you of snow cones. You want to put a handful in your mouth, but it’s lake water, so you resist. Barely.

After a few moments, he lifts the augur, leaving a perfect circle behind, revealing the water underneath.

You think about the way Sylus’s scent remains in your apartment, long after he is gone.

You think about his hand in yours, through the entire duration of the ballet.

You think about Sylus slowly drilling through the thin ice around your heart, dipping into the frigid, still water underneath with his blood-soaked hands.

You wonder when being okay was no longer enough for you.

He interrupts your thoughts, his voice deep, soothing, seemingly loud in the snow-quiet. “Some people drill multiple holes around the same lake. Set up tip-ups, a sort of fishing pole system where you don’t have to hold the pole—there’s a flag that flies up when the fish takes the bait. The angler then knows to grab hold and reel it in. Some use more traditional spears. Others use sonar to detect where the fish are, and then quickly drill, ensuring a higher chance of a bite.”

You look at his simple fishing pole. His lack of fancy equipment. “You just use a standard pole, try your luck.”

He nods. “That’s the point for me. Simple. Peaceful. If they bite, they bite. If not, that’s my typical luck. I’ve enjoyed the fresh air, the pine on the wind.” His beautiful mouth tips a little at the corner. “It’s better with you here. Now there’s no losing, even if I return empty-handed.”

“It sounds like you were already winning, no matter what.”

He shakes his head, pokes your forehead with a gloved finger. You hate the gloves, even as they protect you from frostbite. You want to feel his skin on yours again. “As usual, you are wildly mistaken.”

He gently takes the fishing pole from your grasp, then kneels, rummages in his bag. He pulls out a little box, and using his teeth, pulls off his gloves. His hands are so pale they glow like the surrounding snow.

“We’re going to use flashy, bright bait. Maybe we’ll get a pike, or trout.”

You think of jewel-encrusted boxes. Rubies around your neck, your wrists.

You watch as his nimble fingers, seemingly unaffected by the cold, thread the bright silver hook with radioactive-colored jiggly bait.

You imagine swimming in serene waters, the roof of the world crystal above you. Opening your mouth, trying to catch something delicious dangling in the water. You imagine the pain, the jerk. Being flayed open, your ribs cracked wide.

You watch Sylus Qin, hair shimmering in the moonlight, eyes like hot blood, and think that even if you know what’s at the end of the hook, you’ll still bite, in the end. You’ll struggle, and struggle, but ultimately try to swallow him whole.

You don’t think Sylus is correct, assuming you’re afraid that you won’t care about the fish’s struggle in the same way you care about killing magnificent wanderers.

He lowers the bait into the water, unreeling the line. He hands it to you. You take it, reluctantly.

He puts his gloves back on, drags the folding chair closer to the hole, sits. “Come.”

You obey, sliding back onto his lap. He puts his gloved hands over yours on the fishing rod.

“And now we wait?” you ask.

“And now we wait,” he confirms.

You lean against him. There is only the moon, the spilling stars, the dark trees in the distance, Sylus’s breath, yours.

“You can’t be mad at me,” you shatter the muffled silence.

“What could you ever do to me, to make me mad at you?”

You breathe out, watch your own breath drift. “I hope we don’t catch anything.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Do you hate it that much?”

You let go of the rod, turn in his lap. “I think I do.” You can’t bring yourself to tell him why.

He studies your face. “Then we’ll go back to the lodge.”

“I don’t want to ruin your fishing trip. Just tell me where to go, and I’ll walk. You can tell me why you brought me here later.”

He snorts softly. “Where you go, I go.”

“Seriously—” you protest, but then the fishing rod jerks in his hands. He grasps it tightly, eyes flicking to where the line is bending the rod in a long bow toward the hole in the ice, back to your face. Asking a question.

You were swimming peacefully in a dangerous, but mostly serene lake. You were pulled out by your tender flesh, terrified for days, and then thrown back in. And now the same angler is looking at you, asking you a silent question, if he is allowed to reel another living creature, just like you, into the cold, drowning air.

But you already care for him so much. So much more than perhaps you care for yourself, in how happy you want to make him. You find yourself nodding, despite the dread filling you.

He firmly, slowly, reels in the fish. It’s big—much bigger than you expect. You take a step back, give Sylus room as it plops out of the water, onto the ice. It’s mouth opens, closes. It has sharp teeth.

He looks at you again. “It’s a pike. Do you want to release it? I’ll gently lower it into the water, let it swim out of my hands. As little trauma as possible.”

You’re staring at the pike’s sharp teeth. You think of your swords. Your pistols. Your fists. If he tries to put the fish back in the water, it might bite him. You know that Sylus will heal, but you don’t want him to have to heal himself during what is supposed to be a tranquil fishing trip.

“You came here to catch fish. Finish it.” You try to sound firm. Calm.

Your heart is racing.

Sylus doesn’t waste time. He reaches into his parka pocket and pulls out what looks like a little ice pick. He bends down, grasps the fish with one gloved hand and drives the sharp point of the pick into the fish’s head. It immediately stops moving.

He does this with the same efficiency that he executed a man in the street. The same quiet, decisive coldness that he snapped a man’s neck.

He turns to you, eyes widening. “Sweetheart?” He sounds a little panicked.

The tears are hot on your face. They steam in the frigid air. You don’t know why you’re crying.

“Some people put their fish on the ice—they think that they just fall asleep and never wake up. But it’s a slow death. The most humane way is iki jime.” He gestures with the pick. “A swift strike to its brain.”

“I understand,” you say, because you do. What he did was the kindest thing, once you gave him permission to kill it. You quickly try to brush your tears away with your gloved palms.

He rummages in his bag again, pulls out what looks like a roll of wax paper. He carefully wraps the fish, making sure it’s tightly packed in the paper, and then slips it into his bag.

“It’s so cold that we don’t need to pack it in ice. It will keep until we get back to the lodge.” He disassembles the fishing rod, which apparently has some sort of telescoping function so that it fits neatly in the pack. He unfolds the camping chair, straps it to the bottom of that pack. He has to adjust the rifle to add it to the pack’s straps. He picks up the ice augur in one hand, and takes yours in the other. You feel useless, like you wrecked his trip. You haven’t even been here on the lake with him for an hour.

You stop, the snow spikes digging into the ice.

“Why am I here, Sylus?”

He turns, studies you with his lovely eyes. “Because I needed you to be here, and you came.” His voice is deep, and soft. Tender.

You clench your teeth. “But why?”

“Because I missed you. And it’s almost New Year’s Eve.”

You stare at him. Is it that simple? He missed you, and he wanted to spend New Year’s with you? “My expertise? Your tricky problem?”

He doesn’t bother looking sheepish. “Only you know how to make me happy. And only your presence can solve your absence.”

You stare at him, mouth slightly open. Your nose is cold, running a little from the tears, the harsh air. “You flew me to the arctic to spend New Year’s with you because you missed me?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Your teeth start to chatter. Despite the parka, the fur cap, your warm boots, you’re suddenly exhausted and cold. As if hearing that Sylus doesn’t need you to fight wanderers, or take down some inhumane fur smuggling ring, your body feels like it’s safe to acknowledge your hangover from Christmas, your exhaustion from the flight, the trip out to this frozen lake at the end of the world, the grief of the past year.

“Why didn’t you just say so in the invitation?” you manage through your clicking teeth.

“Would you have come?” he asks, tilting his head.

You think about the fish. The swift plunge of metal into its brain. His hand, holding yours during a ballet. A record spinning in your small living room, Sylus having brought your favorite artist on vinyl to play for you while you played Scrabble. The bones of a thumb snapping, the squeal of a man in excruciating pain. A fish hook, gleaming in the moonlight.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

“Do you want to leave, now that you know that there’s no crisis?” He sounds resigned.

You think about how you wanted to make him happy as the fish took the bait. His knuckles, soft on your cheek. His scent in your kitchen, long after he is gone.

You realize now that the hook has been in your mouth ever since he released you gently back into the water, after the auction. It’s been bleeding this whole time, as you refused some invitations, gave in to others. He has been letting out the line, reeling you back in. Making sure you don’t thrash yourself off the hook. A master angler, now looking at you with such sorrowful resignation.

“I won’t invite you again,” he says, and your heart stops. Your teeth stop chattering. The stars are diamonds spilling onto the ice, splashing back up, illuminating his hair, the wine glow of his eyes.

“What?” you whisper.

“It’s almost the new year. If you want to move into the future without me bothering you anymore, I promise to let you go. If that’s what you really want.”

He’s willing to let the line out again, to let you swim away from him.

But his hook is already in you, so deep, you’ll carry it for the rest of your life, no matter what choice you make.

Your teeth start to chatter even harder. You’re not ready. You’re not ready to say goodbye to him. You’re also not ready to make a choice, the fear filling you—the pike’s sharp teeth, your sharp teeth, the sheen of fish scales lovely under the moon, the sheen of lovely fabric draped over your body in a box seat at the ballet, the spike, the sudden stillness after so much thrashing.

“Take me to the lodge, Sylus.”

His breath puffs white. He doesn’t ask you again to make the choice now. He turns, pulls you forward by the hand.

The way back is a blur. You’re exhausted, cold. His big body shields you from the wind as he drives the snowmobile, deeper through the pines, until you burst into a small clearing filled with a decent-sized, but not huge, wood cabin. The lodge. Just as they call Sylus’s mansion ‘the base,’ these men can’t be normal about anything at all and call this wood cabin ‘the lodge.’

He parks the snowmobile under a covered area next to the cabin, next to three others. You wonder if he had the fourth one brought for you specifically, or if this is just the number of vehicles that come with the cabin.

He pulls you to the door, and the heat inside is a welcome relief to your cold, tired bones. He helps you peel out of the parka, the heavy boots. Hangs and arranges everything neatly in a large, stone-tiled foyer. He then strips himself. He’s wearing a soft sweater, soft dark pants underneath. He picks up the pack with one big hand, and yours in the other. It’s warm against yours.

Past the inner foyer door, the cabin opens up into a high-ceilinged, rustic space. Pale blond wood. Furred rugs. Comfortable, overstuffed leather furniture. Huge windows, just like his base, providing a view of the surrounding snow-covered pines. The mountains rising beyond. Open floor plan—living room, big kitchen. You turn, find a balcony overlooking the living room. The upper floor with the bedrooms, you assume.

There is no television.

You turn to him. “How do the twins stay entertained? How do you?”

He shrugs. “We bring books. Graphic novels. There’s a games closet. We hunt. Drink. A sauna.” His mouth quirks when you visibly react to the idea of a sauna. “We can do sauna after you’ve slept.”

You just nod, a little overwhelmed. Like you so often are around this man. You’re so tired.

“Do you want to learn how I prep the fish, or do you want to rest?” he asks after setting the hiking pack next to the kitchen island. The kitchen counters are large butcher blocks, the cabinets more blond wood.

“Rest. Please. I think I’m really tired after the trip.”

He lifts a warm hand, traces underneath one of your eyes with a fingertip. “You look tired.”

You scowl. “Thanks.”

He drops his hand. “You look no less lovely for it.” Then he turns, begins making his way up the open wooden staircase leading to the hall balcony above. When he notices you not following, he turns back. “Coming?”

You shake your head, accepting the feeling of warmth flooding you from his kind comment. You’ve come this far. You refuse to let him make you choose. You don’t know what you’re waiting for. But you know that you’ll just know, at the right moment, when choice must finally be made.

You follow him. He leads you to a bedroom with a huge bed. Polished wood floor. Large window, the night sky spilling onto a snow-filled balcony on the other side of the glass. Pale walls. A rustic dresser with a record player on it, a closet, an en-suite bathroom. Everything is simple. So different than Sylus’s normal style, but it still feels like him. Clean lines. Sylus, if he could relax. The room smells of him. Delicious. Cloves.

The bedding is piled high, puffy duvet, white.

“Everything you need should be in the bathroom. Are you hungry?”

You turn back to him. “I’m not hungry, but I should probably eat. I can’t remember the last time I ate.”

He tsks, frowns. “I’ll bring you something,” he says grumpily. He turns to leave.

“Thank you.”

He pauses in the doorway. Rests one big hand on the doorframe, looks over his shoulder. “For what, kitten?”

“For inviting me. For… tolerating me.”

He turns fully. Strides over to you. Places his warm palms on your upturned face. “If you don’t listen to anything else I say, listen to me now. You are the one person I never have to tolerate.” His thumbs sweep under your eyelids, along the delicate skin, just as you imagined when you’d dab aloe vera there, as you’d dab expensive face cream there. It feels better than you were ever able to imagine. “It’s almost New Year’s. I can go through another year, without knowing if you want to face it with me. I will wait for as long as I have to. But if you already know that you’re not going to keep me, it would be more merciful for you to tell me now.”

You stare into his eyes, and for the first time, see yourself mirrored in them.

The uncertainty. The fear.

Maybe you’re not the only one who can empathize with a powerful, deadly fish struggling on a hook.

Maybe you’ve been looking at the trajectory of your relationship with this man from the wrong angle this whole time. That you’ve been missing something essential, all along.

You need more time. You try to memorize the dark striations in his lava-glow eyes. To warm you when he walks out of the room again.

“I’ll tell you,” you promise him.

He closes his eyes, and it’s like the lights go out in the room. He breathes through his nose and releases you.

Then he’s gone. You head to the bathroom, and he’s right. Everything you could want for your stay, waiting for you. You shower. The hot water never runs out. You wonder how big the generator is that powers this place. You didn’t see any electrical lines overhead.

When you emerge, there’s a tray on the bed. Meat and cheese, rustic bread, olives. A large glass of water sits on one of the pale wood nightstands.

You eat your fill, watching the stars shift across the sky. You then crawl under the big pile of duvets and pass out almost immediately.

You don’t dream.

You don’t know what time it is, when you wake up. The sky outside is still full of stars. You’re so warm. Waking up is peaceful, without an alarm. Without obligations pressing in on you. You think that you’ve been missing something essential, through all the hours, days, weeks, months, since Sylus came into your life. As much worry, confusion, dread that he has brought with him, he has brought an equal, if not greater amount, of moments like these. Opening a new pot of cream to soothe your chapped, thin skin. The feel of soft, quality fabric draped over your body. Biting into the chilled flesh of a perfectly ripe fruit, plucked from a gift basket delivered to your door. His hand, warm, enveloping your own cold one. His strong, sturdy presence at your side during missions that may have gone sideways, if not for his strength bolstering yours. Waking up to starlight pouring into a bedroom, a waterfall of crystals plinking onto the floor, the duvet, your upturned face.

You’ve been viewing these luxuries as shiny bait hiding a sharp hook.

What if they’re offerings from a man experiencing his own hook, leading to you, terrified that you’re going to rip it out of his soft mouth?

You turn your head from the window, and only then do you realize you’re so warm because Sylus is heating the space under the duvet with the giant furnace of his own body. Somewhere during your nap, or night sleep, whatever it was, as time has no meaning here, he slipped into bed next to you. He’s breathing quietly, eyes closed, head on the pillow next to yours. He’s not touching you, but his body heat feels like a caress.

You drink in his beautiful face. Imagine a hook caught in the plush of his full lower lip. It hurts you to imagine having to shove it in deeper, in order to dislodge it, to slip the vicious barbed point back through the wound to free him.

You think that perhaps, there was never any choice at all, for either of you.

“Like what you see?” His voice is thick, footsteps over gravel. Sleepy.

“I think you know,” you answer. What’s the point in denying it, here at the end of the world?

“It’s nice to hear, even so,” he murmurs. He opens his eyes.

“I’ve liked what I see, ever since I saw you for the first time, Sylus.” You stare, openly.

“I wasn’t sure,” he admits.

“Now you can be sure,” you say.

“But is it enough?” he asks.

You’re getting closer. After such a short time, but at the same time, an eternity, you think you can see your choice. Through the snow-covered pines. A shadow moving in the moonlight.

“It’s not a matter of enough, or not enough.” You touch his cheek with your index finger, let it drift down, along his jaw. He shudders, eyes not leaving yours. You realize that this is the first time you’ve reached out to touch him, and not the other way around.

You’re close. You’re really close. The universe will tell you. You know it. “What is on the agenda for today?” you ask.

He seems to accept your non-answer again. “Do you want to hear the good news, or the bad news?”

You lift your eyebrows. “There’s news?”

He nods, the silver of his hair falling across his forehead. Messy and cute.

“You choose.” You can’t bear bad news right now.

“It snowed after you went to sleep. A lot. It may take several days to dig out the snowmobiles.”

You let out a relieved breath. All at once, you know you were never going to leave.

“And the bad news?”

He looks at you funny. “That was the bad news.”

You laugh. “How terrible. Being trapped with a handsome man in his comfortable cabin, free from work and responsibilities.”

He looks like he’s in pain. “I thought you’d be upset.”

“You’re not the only one who can be unpredictable.” You smile.

He watches you, as if he’s waiting for more. He can keep waiting. He likes games, after all.

“What’s the good news?” you prompt him, feeling a little mean, but enjoying it.

“We have plenty of firewood for the sauna. Plenty of supplies for a long stay, if we have trouble digging out the snowmobiles. We can go for a walk, now that it has stopped snowing again.”

“Okay. Let’s go for a walk, and then do sauna after we’re cold and tired.”

He’s still watching you, as if you’re about to freak out. “What do you always tell me? Don’t overthink it? Relax?” You laugh, gently poke the tip of his beautiful nose. “Take your own advice, big boss man.”

That does the trick—he smiles, faintly. “Does that mean you’ll do as I order?”

You tilt your head, a maybe, maybe not look on your face. “Guess you’ll just have to see.” You roll away, yanking the duvet with you. He yelps from the cold, heretofore a decidedly non-Sylus sound. You like it. You want to hear it again.

“Up. We have snow to trudge through!”

His evol, black and red swirls, yanks the duvet from around your shoulders, settles it back over himself. You blow a raspberry at him, slam the bathroom door behind you.

You’re going to have fun, while you’re here. As you make him sweat a little, now that you know that the universe is on the cusp of letting you swallow his bait, just as he swallowed yours, months ago.

The snow has buried the overhang that sheltered the snowmobiles. The front door can’t be opened. After grabbing a simple breakfast in the kitchen, you and Sylus gear up for the cold. The parka, the ski pants, the heavy boots, this time with snow shoes instead of ice grippers attached. Your mad bomber hat, gloves. He slings the heavy rifle over his back, along with a backpack full of snacks and other emergency gear. He slips a headlamp over his own forehead. You hear whooping and cheering from outside the house.

“You’ll see,” he says to your questioning look. He leads you back up the stairs, to a door at the end of the hallway. He opens it onto a bedroom which must belong to one of the twins based on the clutter of books and half-opened bags. You’re just in time to see one of the twins take a running leap over the balcony railing and disappear.

You hurry across the room, through the open balcony door, peer over the railing. Just a few feet below, lying in a huge snowbank coming up the side of the cabin, are Kieran and Luke, making snow angels and laughing their asses off.

“This is how we’re getting out of the house?” you ask, comprehension dawning.

Sylus laughs, low. “You can jump, or I’ll just lower you with my evol. It’s up to you.”

It occurs to you that with Sylus’s evol, he could likely simply disintegrate the snow covering the snowmobiles. That you’re not actually stuck here. That he’s playing games with you, just as you’re now playing a game with him. You no longer feel bad, or mean, for making him wait for an answer you think you could probably already give him.

You feel like being a little meaner, now. You turn, step toward him. You lift your gloved hand, grab hold of his headlamp, bring his face down to yours. “I think I’ll jump,” you whisper, your mouth a breath away from his. You take a long whiff of his skin. He smells so fucking good. You hear his own intake of breath, a sharp little sound. He turns his head, brushes his nose against your cheek. But you gently shove him away, turn, and jump over the railing.

The twins whoop and holler as you land in the snow with a loud WHOOMP. You laugh, spread your arms and legs, try your best to carve a path through the snow, making your own angel. The snow is wet, cold. It bites your cheeks, makes you feel alive. After you’re satisfied, you stand, survey your handwork. Not exactly the most elegant snow angel, but it will do.

You’re suddenly covered in a spray of snow, as Sylus jumps over the balcony and the resulting shockwave from his big body hitting the powder covers you from head to toe.

You sweep your hand down your snow covered chest, form a snowball and then jump down into the hole he just made, right on top of him. You reach for his face, trying to pat him with the snowball, but he twists, rolling you. You wrestle, laughing, each trying to get the upper hand, but it’s not a fair fight in the snow. Maybe if you were on proper gym mats you could do some jiu jitsu moves on him, but he manages to roll you underneath him in the wet, powdery snow. He looks down into your face, cheeks pink from the cold and effort, smiling bigger than you think you’ve ever seen him smile.

“Truce?” You offer, a lie.

He leans down, his lips just above yours. “Why would I accept a truce when I have the upper hand? I’m playing to win.”

As he speaks, you let your hand drift through the snow. You lean up, just shy of pressing your lips against his. His eyes flick down, as if mesmerized by your mouth. You bring your hand up, shove the snow against his cheek.

He yelps again, glares down at you. You love that sound. You want to make him whine. “I see, what false sincerity in your offered truce.”

You lean up, lick the snow off his face. It tastes delicious. You always did like chewing on ice. “You were prepared to annihilate me, and you complain about good faith in negotiations?”

He’s staring at you again, but you just smile up at him, eyebrows raised. He looks like he wants to say something. You don’t want to give him the chance.

“Now off. I’m getting cold.”

“Making demands, after launching a pre-emptive strike.” He shakes his head.

You poke his cheek. “A warning shot. Get off, unless you want the full arsenal.”

“I see that I need to shore up my defenses if I’m to withstand a real assault from you,” he murmurs, rolling off you. You both lie for a few moments, admiring the night sky, side by side, in Sylus’s now ruined snow angel.

Eventually, he helps you to your feet. You brush the snow off each other, as best as you can, considering how powdery it is. You’re grateful for the snow shoes that allow you to walk over the surface of the snow without sinking in. You leave the twins to continue jumping off the balcony, hauling themselves up again. They’re daring each other to engage in ever more complicated aerial acrobatics.

“Don’t you worry they’ll break their necks?” you ask as you walk side by side with Sylus, into the pines past the clearing. He clicks on his headlamp, illuminating the way, but the now-rising moon, the blanket of stars overhead continue to illuminate the snow. You think you could see just fine without the flashlight.

“They’re not stupid,” he answers easily.

“What would you do, if something happened to them?” you ask.

“Have you accepted me in this gruesome little scenario, or have you released me?” he asks, not sounding upset at all. Just curious.

You stare at his profile. The bored curve of his lips. His long nose. He flicks you with a scarlet glance, then gazes ahead again.

“Would the answer change?”

“If you release me, I’d kill everyone in the vicinity and wait for you to arrive with the Association to put me down.” He shrugs one shoulder, stretching his neck. “If you keep me, I’d kill anyone responsible, and then entomb the twins in the hills above Linkon City. Build a university in their honor, since they never got to go. When I offered, they said it was too late. Stupid.”

You stare at him. “You love them.”

He snorts. “They’re useful.”

“You love them,” you repeat.

You can’t unpack the rest. How his answer changed based on your presence, or absence in his life. Why he would want you to be the one to kill him, instead of killing himself.

“Think what you want,” he says, but he doesn’t sound upset.

The walk is beautiful. Peaceful. Your feet crunch in the snow, alongside Sylus’s. You’re getting tired, are about to suggest turning around, heading back to sauna, when you hear a faint screaming. As if it’s coming from up ahead, and yet under the snow.

“Do you hear that?” You turn to Sylus. He nods. Begins walking in the direction of the sound. You follow. As you walk through the snow-covered pines, the screaming gets louder. A high, pained squealing that breaks your heart.

Sylus stops, looks down. “Here,” he says. He drops to his knees, starts digging. You try to help, but he motions you away. “If it tries to bite, better me than you.”

“No—” you try to argue, but he just shakes his head.

“Not up for debate.”

Eventually, he manages to reveal a flat surface under the snow. He stops, sits back. The screaming has stopped. He slowly reaches up, turns off the headlamp that had illuminated his digging efforts.

“What is it?”

“A weasel trap.”

You stare at him. “Why would someone want to trap a weasel, all the way out here?”

“Why do humans do anything?” he asks, strangely, with disgust heavy in his voice.

“Okay, fine. Let’s free it.”

“It sounds like it’s hurt,” he says. “It wasn’t screaming just because it’s caught in a humane trap. That’s the scream of an animal in pain.” His voice is strained.

“Okay, then let’s look inside, and if it’s injured, we get it to the vet.”

“Even with a vet’s help, for a wild animal like this, the most merciful thing we can do for it is put it down if it’s permanently maimed.” Sylus can’t seem to drag his eyes away from the box.

You kneel down next to him. “Let’s actually take a look before we decide that there’s no hope.” He continues staring at the box. “Sylus.” You bite the tip of one of your gloved fingers, pull the glove off your hand. You touch Sylus’s cheek. It’s cold. You turn his face. “Sylus, I’m not going to kill it. And neither are you.” He finally looks at you. “If you don’t open the trap, I will.”

He searches your eyes, and then nods. He reaches down, gingerly lifts the top of the trap. He curses softly.

You peek over his shoulder, and see that it’s not a humane trap at all. Someone set what looks like a cross between a mouse and a bear trap within the box trap that could have been just as effective without actually hurting the animal. The weasel is cowering away from you and Sylus, its white fur stained red with its own blood. Its leg is crushed in the jaws of the vicious inner trap.

“We need to kill it,” Sylus grates out. “It’s in so much pain.”

Something moves through you, as you absorb the sight of the white fur, soaked in blood, so soft. The creature’s little red eyes, bright jewels in its white, cute little face. It looks like Sylus. His eyes, his hair.

The enormity of the cruelty it took to set a trap in the middle of nowhere, which by itself is terrible enough—in such a remote area, with constant snowstorms, the animal would likely have died a slow, painful death from starvation before whoever set the trap could come back to check it. But they ensured the maximum pain possible, by setting a trap that would crush one of its limbs.

Something moves through you, and it is blotting out everything else. Your skin feels too tight. Your body is hot, despite the cold of the air, the snow. It takes a moment for you to realize what you’re feeling. Rage. You feel like you could explode with it.

“Sweetheart—”

You hear Sylus’s voice as if from a great distance. You turn your head, slow like you’re underwater.

You want to kill something.

You want to kill someone.

You want to kill the person who set this trap, and you want to make it hurt.

“Beloved, you need to—”

You slowly realize that the pine trees are too bright, the snow reflecting what looks like direct sunlight. The weasel has shut its red, red eyes against the bright light.

You look down at your hands. Your evol is swirling around your palms, up your wrists, twisting, snaking. It’s almost too bright to look at. You look at Sylus. He’s looking off to the side, squinting. You know how sensitive his eyes are. You’re hurting his eyes with the golden light of your evol.

“Sylus,” you say. You’re so angry. You’re so angry, you could bring down a city with it. The size of your anger is incomprehensible. “Is this how you feel?”

You think that this is it. The sign from the universe. The sign that it’s time to choose.

If this is how Sylus feels, as he snaps the necks of fraudulent, cruel men, as he puts bullets in people who don’t deserve to be called human, then who are you to judge him? Fear him? You are the same.

Kindred spirits.

He closes his eyes. Turns to face you. “Resonate with me,” he answers, because why would he begin answering your questions directly now? Just because you feel such rage that you want to rip the spine out of the person who did this and impale him with his own coccyx?

“I don’t know if it’s safe—” your heart is pounding. So loud, it almost drowns out Sylus’s strained voice. The light is only getting brighter. You’ve never lost control of your evol before. Is this how Zayne feels? You’re terrified, but bigger than the terror, is the rage.

He reaches out, blindly, manages to catch your hand in his. He bites the tip of his glove, yanks it off his other hand. He then slides his naked hand against yours. You don’t even think. It’s not a conscious decision. Your evol rushes into him, a dam bursting.

You splash into the ocean of stars, of molten lava—resonance with Sylus.

The confines of your body no longer restrict your anger. It pours out of you, unchecked, an oil spill across the shimmering net of the ocean of connection between you and him. He’s here with you. His compassion, empathy for this uncontrollable fury meets the oil spill, absorbing it, filtering it, letting it bleed out as fuel, something useful. He gathers it, as he gathers you in his arms, your cheek pressed against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat loudly, even though physically, it’s muffled by his parka. Here, in the endless night, the bottomless sea, your feelings are manageable, shared between the two of you.

Is this how you feel, when you’re snapping a man’s neck? Your questions flow out of you like your anger, unchecked. You can’t control the confines of your other feelings either—your fear, of taking his bait. Your fear, that he’ll grow bored with you. Your fear, that he sees you as a pathetic little fish to catch, easily spiked through the brain, tossed back into the water.

He squeezes you more tightly against him.

Let’s heal the weasel, and then I’ll show you how I feel.

You look up at him. We can heal it?

You can resonate with it, as you resonate with me. My healing ability will pass through you, into the animal. It will hurt. We will all hurt. But then its leg can be fully restored. It's still connected by a thread.

You don’t care. You don’t care that you’ll hurt too. But you don’t want Sylus to have to hurt in the process. Are you okay with hurting for an animal?

You don’t know what to expect. A response saying he’s willing to do it, because you want to do it. That he’ll do it for you, because you asked it of him. A response that shrugs off his own pain—he’s used to it, it’s not that big of a deal. You could have expected anything but the feeling he reveals through the resonance—a flood of empathy for the animal, chained by the leg, a part of its body crushed, the terror of being trapped, knowing that the only end is a long, slow death.

Coursing around this island of empathy inside Sylus is a wide, rushing river, its current inexorable. A feeling that says If anything were to happen to you, I’d feel like dying. I’ve died so many times, drowning in your absence.

Love. He loves you so much. He has loved you so much, for so long. His love has only grown, as he watched you lose control of your evol because of the fury on behalf of this small, scared, crushed animal.

Your fury dissipates in the torrential river of his devotion. You nod, knowing now that he’s more than willing to heal the creature, to bear its pain as his own, just as you are.

You lean over the open trap, ready to rest a featherlight finger on the weasel’s little head, when Sylus stays your hand. The aether core in his eye glows, and he stares into the animal’s now open eyes. You feel a deep, burning pain in your own right eye, as Sylus’s feelings continue to flood into you, form a slurry, flow back into him, now mixed with yours. The weasel’s eyes begin to glow red, just as Sylus’s does. He then nudges you again. You reach down, rest a finger on its little head, and let your evol flow from you into its body.

Pain. Your leg crushed, its now separate parts only connected by a thin stretch of mangled flesh. Sylus, gaze never leaving the weasel, bites off his other glove. He snaps his fingers, loud in the snow-muffled forest. The trap dissolves into scarlet and ink ash. You pull Sylus’s own evol into you, push it into the weasel. All three of you make a low, keening noise in your throats as the flesh begins to knit back together, an agony of sutures pulling without anesthetic, a fundamental wrongness as you reverse nature, crush entropy into order, make something whole that’s not supposed to be whole, anymore.

After what feels like a lifetime, the pain slowly fades. You collapse back onto your ass in the snow, breaking the resonance with the weasel, but maintaining it with Sylus. Sylus remains kneeling, looking down into the trap. The light in his aether core fades. The pain in your eye fades.

You’re watching the weasel through Sylus’s eyes. He observes with a faint thread of pride how the little animal uncurls itself. Stretches its leg experimentally. Even wiggles its little clawed toes. It looks up at Sylus with its crimson eyes.

You and Sylus expect that it will now scurry over the edge of the trip, scrabble through the snow and into the night, away from this place of pain and trauma. But it just sits there for a moment, looking at Sylus.

It then sits up on its back legs like a meerkat, and lifts its little front legs in the air.

Sylus stares at it in confusion.

It wants up.

He turns to look at you, incredulous. You see yourself through his eyes. Your beloved, beautiful face, reflecting the moonlight. A face he’d die over and over for, if it prevented the look of fear and distrust that he has seen flash across it as you looked at him in the dark of a theater, over the white linen of a fine restaurant, from next to him on your couch, as you listened to the record playing that he brought for you, as you bathed in starlight on a frozen lake at the end of the world.

You’ve been looking at him from the wrong angle, missing something essential, from the moment you looked up into his disdainful face for the first time.

You haul yourself to your knees, crunching through the snow to his side again. You look down into the trap, where the weasel is still on its haunches, waving its little front legs in the air. You reach down with your ungloved hand, offer it your palm. It doesn’t hesitate. It simply launches itself onto your forearm, scurries up to your shoulder. It leaps from yours to Sylus’s shoulder. It scrabbles at the fully zipped up collar of his parka, and then literally weasels itself under the coat, and around his neck. It settles, then peeks out of his coat next to his jaw.

He grimaces. Its fur is still matted with its blood.

You shrug. What, is the coat dry clean only? You tease him. Small price to pay for your new pet.

Excuse me? He lifts his eyebrows.

You wrap your arms around him, hug him tightly, rest your cheek against his chest. His big body slumps, and you feel the relief, the affection, the hope that fill him.

What’s a good name for a little albino weasel?

Sylus hugs you tightly. How do you know it’s an albino?

Arctic weasels don’t normally have red eyes. This little guy has red eyes, so I doubt his coat will turn brown in the summer.

You feel his pleasure at your sharing your knowledge with him, his pride that his beloved is so smart. You snort.

Knowing trivia about cute, cuddly things isn’t necessarily a sign of intelligence.

Sylus dismisses your self-deprecation. I know you’re smart for other reasons, kitten.

You let it go. Let’s go home.

There’s a pause after your thought, as if Sylus is holding his breath, trying to keep a leash on his feelings.

You look up, resting your chin on his chest. Two pairs of bright red eyes look down into your face. Home? His question is tentative.

You send him an image of the cabin. Luke and Kieran. Of his own face.

Will you stay? For the New Year?

For longer, if the invitation is still open.

In answer, he leans down, squeezing you so tightly your booted, snow-shoed feet are lifted from the snow. He presses his full lips to yours. You feel him, feeling you. Soft lips, and then tongue, your mingled breath misting up into the still air. He kisses you, and you feel a little tiny tongue on your cheek. You pull back, and see that the weasel had licked your cheek curiously since you were so close.

Sehnsucht. We’ll call the little guy Sehn for short.

Sylus laughs. Is this some sort of jab at Mephisto’s name?

An open declaration of war. Poor Mephisto, named for something so cynical.

And where will Sehn live, beloved?

At the base. Luke and Kieran can look after him when I’m not around.

I can look after him when you’re not around. A petulant thread of jealousy is wrapped around his grumpy thought. Then he rests his forehead against yours. Does this mean that you’ll be at the base more often?

Your bait was too good. I can’t resist anymore. You’re stuck with me, now.

Sylus laughs out loud, a full, rich sound. It echoes through the trees. It took you long enough to bite.

Maybe next time don’t initially traumatize the fish you’re trying to catch.

There will be no next time. There has only ever been you, and I fucked up at the beginning. I can’t promise I won’t fuck up again. But I will never, ever want to release you.

Good, no refunds. You tug on him. Bend down, pick up your glove and slip it back on your cold hand. Let’s go. I’m fucking cold. And I’m still pissed that we’ll never know what depraved piece of shit did this to Sehn.

Sylus hums a little, and you feel a wall drift into place around some of his thoughts, feelings. You look at him in confusion.

Don’t overthink it.

You decide to trust him. If he wants to keep a secret from you, well. Not knowing every single thing about each other is healthy in a relationship

You, Sylus, and Sehn walk slowly back to the cabin in companionable silence, the resonance ocean soft and deep between you and your new boyfriend.

You don’t notice later, when he slips out of bed while you’re sleeping, returns to the place where you found Sehn. Places trail cameras with satellite links to several tree trunks in the area. Keeps an eye out for when the piece of shit returns to check on his trap.

You don’t hear the gunshot from a high powered rifle, meant for bears, in the quiet distance.

You don’t see the missing posters that go up in the nearest town as you’re passing back through on the way to the airport, when your holiday finally ends.

You just enjoy the snow. The quiet. The stars above. Finding yourself under mistletoe that the twins must have hung over every doorway in the house, even though Christmas was over. An attempt at helping their boss get what he had already, successfully reeled in. Because you had already spent a lot of time leisurely kissing him, his tongue hot in your mouth, his thigh shoved between your legs.

You enjoy watching Luke and Kieran invent toys for Sehn to play with, Sehn who they’ve nicknamed the Noodle, who trips down the stairs like a slinky, and curls up in your lap as you read, before Sylus nudges him out of the way and puts his head there. Sehn then curls up on Sylus’s chest.

You enjoy the promised sauna. Holy shit, the sauna. The traditional wood burning stove heats the water that you pour over the hot stones with a big, wooden ladle—the resulting steam bellows, filling the space with the scent of pine, mint, whatever essential oils Sylus chose to drip into the water. You recline against him, naked, your bodies sweating, slick against each other, until you’re dizzy. You both run into the snow and you get to hear him yelp, whimper, over and over again, from the shock of cold. He drapes himself over you, claiming it’s to keep him warm as you stand in the snow for as long as you both can stand it, until you race back to the sauna, do it all over again. You feel thoroughly detoxed afterwards, and you sleep like the dead in his arms.

On New Year’s Eve, you wake up, find Sylus in the kitchen singing at the top of his lungs. You think it’s supposed to be Auld Lang Syne. It’s absolutely earsplitting. You will never understand how someone with such a rich, deep, beautiful voice can butcher a song as thoroughly as Sylus Qin can.

The twins are placidly reading on the couch. You look at them in astonishment as Sylus warbles, pulling something out of the oven. It smells delicious, some kind of roasted meat. They look up at the same time, mirror images, and smirk at you. You narrow your eyes. They point at each others’ ears.

Ear plugs. Luke mouths, as Kieran nods sagely.

If you hadn’t known you loved him already, based on how you felt, imagining never seeing him again, you would know that you love him because you refuse the twins when they offer you a pair of your own earplugs. You sit at the kitchen island, head propped up in your hand, and listen to him sing for the rest of the morning as he cooks a feast for New Year’s Eve dinner. He bends down, squints at his phone at the cooking tutorials—apparently his phone has some sort of fancy satellite reception since there is no cellular reception—that he’s consulting to prep the meal. You tease him, call him ‘old man’ as you make your way upstairs, fetch his gold-rimmed reading glasses, and bring them back down to him. He looks so happy when you sit back down to continue listening to his atrocious serenade—it’s worth all the damage to your already damaged eardrums.

At midnight, Sylus pulls you into his arms, kisses you softly. You’re slow dancing in the warmth of the bedroom. A record is playing softly on the dresser. Something instrumental, piano. The Northern Lights fill the sky through the expansive window. I would have taken you to see the fireworks, if we were in Linkon City. But for once, my luck is good. We get to see nature’s fireworks instead. Satisfaction pulses through him, through you, as you resonate together again.

You kiss him, slowly, your bodies soaked in the curtains of light drifting through the arctic sky as you sway together. A thought occurs to you.

Why didn’t you come meet me when I arrived at the airport?

He hangs his head. Rests his forehead on your shoulder. I didn’t trust myself not to level the place if you didn’t walk off the plane.

You can’t stop yourself from asking the obvious question. The question he has already answered, in so many ways, in every gesture, in every invitation, in every sent gift.

Why?

He lifts his head, looks into your eyes, savoring the way they glitter in the night’s light. You admire his eyes in return, his wine gaze more intoxicating than any of his fancy labelled bottles.

You should know by now how much I adore you. No love is purer than mine.

You smile, relieved. Let your own feelings wash through you, into him. Happy New Year, Sylus.

He smiles in return, kisses your forehead, continues to sway you slowly under the arctic stars. We'll ensure that it's the first of many.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #happy holidays everyone #thanks again for the writing prompts

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rise-my-angel · 12 days ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

The Stag and the Young Wolf

Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 14k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, unethical medical practices, mention of disturbing imagery, past character deaths, talk of pregnancy, child death, mild smut

Notes: This is a rewrite of some deleted scenes back during Robb's era in the story, I had a lot of fun writing these two again so I hope you enjoy! Associated Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Harrenhal had been cursed since it’s first stone was laid. Or, that at least was what some spoke of it. More then enough rumours were spread of the ruined castle and it’s lands. No lord or family had ever been able to hold the great castle for more then a few generations before tragedy would befall them. And that went back right to it’s very start.

The castle greater then the very lands most lords held in their entirety, and yet most of it laid unused. Great walls which stood so high that some bridges between the high towers would kill a man without a doubt between falls. But only the lower two thirds were used. It was all that could be afforded by any. The higher the towers sat in the sky, the less usable they were even moreso with the bats adorning them. By now the centuries passed, stories spoke of men seeing masses of black within the halls like a dark figure following them, but when searched further were just bats in so many numbers they looked as one creature.

But it was not just bats making it unlivable. Each hall and corridor and room was surrounded by ruin and decay. Stones never rebuilt or restructured, water dripping from every corner exposed to the air as if the rain which would come could drown out the remaining rooms. The main hall in it’s peak had something near thirty five hearths to keep the castle warm, and now all that remained were fires in each rooms used when it still wouldn’t be much. It was clear why those who even held Harrenhal seldom chose to live within it’s walls.

Yet, the worst of it all was why. The strongest towers and the highest walls, a million men could have marched on the castle and a million men would’ve been repelled. But there was one thing it’s cruel yet brilliant creator Harren the Black did not account for. An attack from the air, a burning of dragonfire. It was said the day it was complete, did Aegon the Conquerer fly over the castle and let Balerion the Dread melt the stone walls within a few mere hours.

Some claimed that it was the burning from the dragon which left it cursed, but you thought there must have been more to it then that alone.

Right along the edges of the castle sat the Gods Eye. A vast lake that in and of itself held memories of death. A mighty battle between kin was fought above the waters, the strong yet terrifying Daemon Targaryean had done the unthinkable. In exchange for the life of he and his dragon, had slain the mighty Aemond the Kinslayer, and took the dragon Vhagar with him. The Valyrian Steel sword of Dark Sister had been found decades later in the waters still shoved deep into the kinslayers eye along with the bones of he and his dragon.

Yet still, that was not the strangest part. The Gods Eye itself was the largest lake in Westeros, but sat right in the middle was a small patch of land. A land with so little known about it, it had become as mysterious as the curses of Harrenhal itself. The Isle of Faces was the last known location outside of the North were Weirwood trees still stood beyond some single trees in a castle’s godswood, and even then so few existed still. Named for the faces carved into them much like ones you knew existed like the heart tree in the Winterfell Godswood. Harrenhal too had it’s own immense godswood and a heart tree, but it paled in comparison to what wonders sat across the lake.

Thousands of years ago, it was said the First Men had met with the Children of the Forest to agree to a peace after centuries of fighting. What agreement was made, none knew, as the First Men seemed to leave no trace of any scrolls, books, or written language behind. Some stories spoke that the Children had used the power there to break the Arm of Dorne, preventing any men to travel to their lands further. Creating what the realm knew now as the Stepstones. A useless patch of rock and rubble squabbled over by pirates these days. Were that true, few knew. Maesters said that storms had broken apart the land and nothing more.

Many had tried over the years to reach such a place, but to no avail. The closer one got to the isle, it was said flocks of ravens drove them off, or were forced away by sudden and powerful windstorms. Those who survived such attempts would sometimes say they saw figures that looked like green men at the shores, but fewer then none seemed to believe them. A mysterious land surrounded by bright blue water and black swans adorning the shores it was a place that sparked the imaginations of many.

Events haunted the memories of this place over the years and yet as you now walked through it’s halls you felt little of it matter. The oddities of Harrenhal tried to seep into your mind and yet you heard and felt none of it.

Olyvar Frey, Robb’s young squire the poor lad was trying so hard to serve you well. But each time it seemed he spoke to you alone it left him more weary then the last, always delivering news you’d rather not hear. This time, a raven scroll. You had enough news for the day.

Two rounds of news came first, word from Riverrun from Edmure Tully to Catelyn. Their father Lord Hoster Tully, a man ill for many years had finally passed. But the ravens carried more news. From the North. Roose Bolton’s bastard had reached Winterfell and found it abandoned, in ruin, and with no sign of Bran or Rickon. Only rumours of bodies of burned boys that some straggling locals claimed were the poor two themselves. With no word of Theons whereabouts, or any terms sent, it was not likely that Bran and Rickon were taken back to the Iron Islands as hostages.

The most likely scenario, is that those bodies of burned boys were them. No matter what yourself and Robb had tried telling Catelyn. Little could console her by now. Most of her children were gone. Her two youngest most likely dead, Arya was most likely dead, and Sansa was still in the hands of Joffery and the Queen. Only Robb remained to her, and now the world took her father too.

You hadn’t known what to say, or even how to feel. Your own mind was cluttered and clouded and there was little that could be said to make any of it right anyways, perhaps you didn’t know how to try.

Instead, you were sought out by Olyvar and handed a raven scroll of your own. In an instant something felt wrong. The sigil was nothing you’d expect. A black sail boat with an onion as it’s banner. Your eyes glanced up to the boy narrowed and on edge, him taking a moment to make his leave. “My Queen.”

Your eyes followed the entire path before looking around you. Men were everywhere, but it would take no time to find solace here. Tucking it away, your feet begun to carry you into the barley warmer indoors until you found an alcove tucked away, of which there were countless. Back pressed against the stone, ignoring the drips of water heard falling down towards your feet and the muffled voices all around you you pulled it back out.

Unfolding it’s contents, you too recognized the writing and your eyes jumped down to the end right away seeing the name etched at the bottom. Marya Seaworth still struggled to sign her name as such, her tendencies to only use her first with those she knew. But, you realized that perhaps she wasn’t writing to you as a lady, but a woman whom knew you well, and knew you needed to know.

It was not the first time members of House Seaworth had gone behind Stannis Baratheons back to send you word of what was happening. Allard did it first. Her and Ser Davos’s eldest son. He had been part of the household guard for the Baratheons of Dragonstone, and when you were very young only three or four, he was assigned personally to watch over you.

From girl to woman you had Allard commonly at your side, and some days he felt down south like your only companion that did not speak to you with ulterior motives. He would write to you at first, and it was him who told you of what your father was doing with the Lady Melisandre. The red woman he said the men had come to call her behind her back. That it was your mother she had convinced first, and none found out until he travelled back to Dragonstone with your father after Lord Arryn’s sudden passing.

But then Renly died, and you stopped hearing word. You didn’t question why, or you didn’t want to know, but this was the first you heard from any since then. Marya was a sweet woman, too sweet to be involved writing you such things. Too sweet to be feeling the heartbreak you now knew Catelyn was also feeling. A mother having lost a son.

Marya wrote to you about what happened in the battle. That Tyrion Lannister had set the Blackwater on fire. A sea of green fire and it, like the dragon fire against the walls of Harrenhal, had melted ships and burned the men in them, alive. And that amongst them, was Matthos Seaworth. Her and Davos second eldest son, and once a friend to you.

A few years older then yourself, he was a scribe for your father and had yearnings to be a knight. Allard spoke that he had bought into this red god without any doubt, and you chilled to think he died thinking fire was the way he was supposed to go. Marya spoke that there was no word that her husband was alive, but she knew men who would’ve told her and they had yet to report such grim news. She had hope Ser Davos was still out there, but where, only the gods knew. But Matthos was dead, no body to even bury, and way of knowing what state her husband was in.

The raven told more though, details Marya herself claimed she didn’t think she should be telling you, but she did anyways, you had never proven to be a traitor for simply standing by your own husband she said. If it came down to it, she’d choose hers over any King any day as well, and she wouldn’t treat you different. That’s how you put together what happened.

Reading over the words, you felt a twist in your gut, and one that didn’t belong to the babe you were still able to hide. Despite such a devastating loss, Stannis had pushed onto the Mud Gate at Kings Landing and nearly got in. That was, until the night was overpowered by the forces of Tywin Lannister, with the strength of the remaining Tyrell army at his back.

You knew Ser Loras, you knew him rather well and didn’t wish to feel ill of his choice or why he made it, but he had gone from Renly’s foolish side, to the side of the enemy all were fighting against. Together, Lannister and Tyrell had pushed back the Baratheons to the sea once more and victory was found for the Lions and the Roses wrapped around them.

Tywin now sat in Kings Landing as Hand of the King, his son set your fathers forces on fire and Matthos included. You felt your jaw tensing along with that feeling inside of you. Eyes dark as they tore themselves up from the raven to the stone on the ground as your hands tensed. Wanting to tear it the way Cersei had Robert’s last words in the Throne Room.

Instead, you steadied yourself. You were better then that, for now. Hiding it away once more, you inhaled deeply as your head turned side to side making sure no one was watching you. A hand running over your face trying to peel off the layer which showed how much was on your mind and truthfully, little was replaced with it. All the news, and this was the most relevant to the war you all fought and yet no one you could confide in felt right to go to.

Robb had more then enough on his shoulders then needing this right now, and the Blackfish had a brother to start grieving for on top of it. But you couldn’t hold it all in, someone needed to grasp what you were putting together. It would cause conflict, what your mind was asserting and it needed to be handled delicately so it did not come out in ill before Robb himself could handle this. Finding your feet, you begun moving through the halls, needing to quietly search out the only counsel you felt would truly listen and understand what you were implying.

Only, you did know one you could hear an answer from what may have occurred. Robb didn’t need to handle this, his grandfather, Bran, Rickon, you wouldn’t steal or force his focus from them, so you took that spot. Searching through what felt like the caverns each looking more grim then the last, as long as you were deeper within and couldn’t look up and see the broken skies you could have tricked yourself into thinking this looked not unlike Dragonstone.

The stone made of black, the vast grand nature of it as if meant to awe as much as it was to make a statement, and it was dour and grey and uninviting no matter where you went. And too, even without the statues and books and decor to remind you, Harrenhal was loomed over by the shadow of a dragon all the same. To what ends, you asked the gods keep that to themselves. You had seen the skulls, that was all of dragons you needed.

Walking down the steps, you nearly thought you may have had to bring a torch along with you the more into the depths you travelled to get to the destination how dark it got with how unkempt so many halls of this place were . Some of the men insisted he could be brought to you, but you rejected the thought. Something about this place made you feel as if you needed to wander. Still recovering from his wounds, you approached the strange man.

Found in the main court which you entered through days before, the men had found someone still alive. Not a soldier of any sorts, but what seemed to be a prisoner when the Lannisters had been capturing people around the Riverlands for information. None of which it seemed helped Tywin get any closer to Robb. How he was planning to beat him on the battlefield now you had no idea.

Being led to the area which the man, a strange sort of man by the name of Qyburn, was recovering, you glanced behind only to signify that you wished to speak to the man alone. “Your grace,” Moving to at least bow no doubt, you held a hand out. Gesturing him to remain seated, commenting there was no need when he should be resting. A chuckle came from him with a wince coming up from his chest. “I’m afraid it is long passed that, with a knife to the throat one becomes beyond comfort.”

Walking somewhat around the small area serving him as a room, you glanced down to his attire and the back up. Almost an expecting look in his eyes. He was a small man, looked on the weak side likely put up not a single fight but somehow survived. Those eyes though, a bit unnerving. As if they were always watching. “The robes, but no chain. I thought all Maesters wore something of a chain they earn.”

“I was one. Once, your grace.” Your brows narrowed, face twisting down into a confusion as he seemed unperturbed with explaining himself further. “I was stripped of my chain, and expelled from the citadel some time ago.” Your voice was short in asking why, but he seemed uncaring of your more stern nature. “They considered my experiments to be on the bold side, and they did not appreciate the findings which came with that.”

He was being purposely vague, which you did not quite appreciate. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a man being thrown out of the order before. They must have been quite the experiments to garner that reaction.” Why you even asked, was mostly for courtesy. He seemed a man more comfortable in his situation then most, and perhaps he would be more open with you if you asked open questions first. “Would that be a story you’re willing to share?”

The look was bright in his eyes, as if recollecting better times despite what would come from his mouth about them. “I would. Being thrown out was a regretful consequence, but I am not shamed of the learning I have found conducting them. I always found myself interested in disease. Curiosity always was my weakness. The need to learn all about it in order to treat it. And the only way to treat disease, is to understand disease. And the best way to understand disease, is to study the afflicted.”

“Study?”

Nodding, your face fell, the feeling in your gut growing more ill but this time with a new wave at the implication you both knew you had come too. “Men who were already dying, who would serve the realm far better allowing me to gain insights on their condition then dying from it and changing nothing.”

Your voice rather flat, arms resting across your chest as you moved little. “I imagine the world will rejoice in their names when you surely give them credit for cutting them open and watching that happens to their insides.” Asking not with a genuine wonder but almost as if humouring you as you were him, if you disapproved. “Do I disapprove of you experimenting on living men to understand what was killing them? Yes, I can say I disapprove of that with some conviction.”

His head leaning back the slightest, he found another route of question as if examining you before his eyes with only your words and expression. “Tell me, my Queen, how many have you killed? Five? Ten? A dozen?”

Your eyes slipped to the side, both of you knew the answer was more complicated then that. Certainly now. Only years ago could you say that number was zero. It was even further away from zero, you had never gotten into such a physical confrontation so seriously before. But the day Lannister men surrounded yourself, Lord Stark and Jory Cassel, that number only increased to one, but it only takes that first to change everything. In near the same instance did Jaime Lannister himself shove a dagger through Jory’s eye, did you make eye contact with him, your own shoved through the neck of his own guard. The blood more prominent on you then it even was him, and he was the greatest swordsmen, or one of them. Then you fought at Whispering Wood, and that number lost count. So you were honest. “I lost track of that along time ago.”

A hum came from his throat as you looked at you, possibly seeing an image of the Lady Baratheon the realm had heard of most your life and finding an image not at all matching. “A rare thing for a woman. Not only to be one to take a life but so many at that.” You made no comment, the weight carried with you all the same no matter the sex. “And how many lives have you saved?”

That came quick. Quicker then he was expecting. “None.” Yet just as fast you changed gears on him, “What can you tell me of the confrontation we came in on the other day? What happened here?” Claiming his knowledge was limited, you cut him off before he could finish. “Limited is better then none.”

Trying to find someone in this castle was a nightmare.

Corridor to courtyard it was endless. As if plucked in the middle of Flea Bottom and told to find one man, even with so much of the castle out of any sort of use. Your patience wearing thin by the time you spotted him locked in a conversation with one which would destroy the rest of that patience. The voice speaking to him falling on somewhat deaf ears as Lord Karstark found your person and a struggle to pretend he had decorum still underneath the anger. “I have my best men on it, if he is out there, we’ll find him.”

Eyes still locked onto you as he responded, “Aye, but what then? We give him a scolding?” His companion turning to see where his attention went and found you. One of them at the least still understood what respect was on some level, a small nod in place of a bow as you approached.

Skipping right to your point, today of all days you did not wish to entertain the anger of the Karstarks. “My lord, if you could give us a moment to speak. Alone.” A glance shared between them before he begun to walk with a grumble just under his breath, only for you to catch the glaring eyes of Harald Karstark, his now only living son left being sent your way before following his father.

If you weren’t mistaken, you’d have thought you were the one who wrapped your chains around Torrhen Karstark’s neck yourself, the way you were being glared at. But, you would take it over any of that ire being sent Robb or Catelyns way in the middle of this such fresh patch of grief.

Left with only one, Roose Bolton gave you his full attention with no hangups to stand behind him at the very least. “Northerners can be as stubborn as our winters, your grace. It will take time for those wounds to heal.” Nodding, your eyes watched the path the men left towards now out of sight before looking back, a curious expression on his face. “But I presume that isn’t why you’ve sought me out this afternoon.”

“No.” Your eyes purposely glancing around to the grim outsides of the sight, most of the dead taken care of which were left out, but the lingering scent of death was never so easily washed out. “What happened here was not at Robb’s command.” Rumbling in a low agreement, already did he begun trying to connect where your own thoughts were. Grateful that as intimidating of a man he was, Roose Bolton was smart and trusting in the world of battle. Quickly rising in the ranks between yourself and Robb as someone whose counsel you both not only trusted but would seek out. Now feeling no different, if not just for the tenseness on him which you could easily attribute the general feeling around all the men presently.

Speaking only enough for the two of you to hear, “If you are asking my thoughts on the matter, I would have to guess that one of the River Lords became a little too over eager, and tried to take on the Mountain and his men themselves. To what ends though, I’m not sure.”

You didn’t confirm the information which Qyburn told you, not to Lord Bolton, but you did have enough to know your worries were indeed, the right ones. “I do.” His brows raised as his face twisted in curiosity, but yours remained stern and rigid as something was holding you back from near speaking through gritted teeth. “Five dead Lannister men for every one of ours, but nowhere along the way did we see any sign of them. Whoever did this, attacked the Mountain and won, and sent them running.” Asking where, your answer lead to a narrowing in his eyes that you both understood. “South.”

More details were skipped, mostly this time such personal ones relayed about the ones you knew in what felt like another life. But what you spoke gave Roose Bolton enough to catch up and his assessment matched your own, as you both could tell you were on the same understanding. “If you mean to tell me you suspect these two events are related, I would have to agree with you. Driving the Mountains forces out of the west would give him enough time to join with Tywin Lannister.”

Finishing for him with a more flat knowing. “Which would give him more forces then Stannis Baratheons, to drive him out of Kings Landing before he could take it.” Your jaw clenched, hands behind your gloves tensing as if to try and dig through the leather and sink your nails painfully into your palms. “My fathers army outnumbered them five to one, even if the Tyrells at his side that wouldn’t have been enough if everything had gone according to Robbs plan.”

Smart man as he was, picking up on how easily you deferred your own part in the plan to Robb alone, and how for everything you were you were so easily willing to give credit to your King instead of demanding the equal share. Sometimes still did you manage to suprise the Northern Lords no matter how close they thought they were getting to knowing you. “I presume you have an idea whom was responsible for this?” You nodded once and quick he was to catch that you were not sharing. If you were right, this for Robb would be far more of a family matter. One which you were not going to throw onto the coals for all to see, Robb could decide for himself how to handle his uncle when the time came, if you were right.

“If I may ask, your grace, of you suspected all of this already, why come to me first and not the King?”

Your expression fell, if not softened the slightest. It was known by this point what rolling news came one after the other that morning for the Starks and Tullys in one blow. Arms crossing more over your front, hands tightening again as if to channel that energy into where you wish you felt a sting instead of whatever conflict sat in your chest. “I needed to know I was right before I brought it to him. He has enough to handle right now without having to put all this together on top of it.”

You both knew what it was you meant in specifics. Roose Bolton had been a great help at Robbs side the entire time from the moment news was sent your way. Ravens had come from White Harbour, Barrowton and the Dreadfort of what Theon had done. What all the Greyjoys had done and were containing to do and it was all a mess.

Theon had raided Torrhen's Square before moving onto Winterfell. Balons own daughter Yara held men at Deepwood Motte, and beyond GreyWater Watch was where Victarion Greyjoy held Moat Cailin. Other pockets of Ironborn were scattered around, but without much organization. It was the Greyjoys themselves holding this together, but it was Theons which was the worst.

A betrayal you felt hurt deeper then you thought, turning swiftly to such an anger that he had done this, that you and Robb had not even hesitated to proclaim he’d die for this. Robb meant it then, you had meant it then, and certainly you both did now. Bran and Rickon. One boy crippled, the other only seven or eight and their blood was now on the hands of someone they knew from the day they were born. You could only imagine how confused they were by it, why Theon had done this.

Did they think the same thought you did? Did Theon secretly hate you all the whole time?

Almost being snapped back into the moment, Roose Boltons voice hit you once more as if forgetting where you even were. “If my bastard had been able to get there faster-”

Shaking your head, you let out a deep sigh. Eyes closing only as long as it took for the breath to leave your lungs in a large chunk. “Word hadn’t gotten in or out of Winterfell for months. There would be no reason to kill all the ravens unless he had something to hide. Meaning he was hiding this for a long time. Longer then your son would’ve had to try and prevent it.” A small appreciation could be somewhat found on his face. “No matter what he found when he got there, give your son my thanks. Robb and myself, both. He tried, and that’s all we can ask for with what we didn’t know.”

Almost to part ways, Roose called out just as you turned. Your body pivoting halfway back, “Is there nothing else on your mind?” Your brows narrowed for a moment as he elaborated. “You seem tense, more tense then the present issues at hand alone. If there is anything on your mind, my counsel is always here.”

Your smile was half made and did not reach his eyes, but you ignored the twisting in your gut with a more low tone that didn’t feel very meaningful. “Just a long few days is all, my lord.”

A few long days indeed, but by the end of it, things had changed drastically. And everything, at least between yourself and Robb would be out in the open and no doubt ready to spread throughout the ruins of the castle by sunrise. But in the very moment your mind considered it all, that was really the least on your mind.

“No. We won't talk this out, he dies for this.”

It was almost precisely what was about to come out of Robb's mouth, and yet you beat him to it with a hissing anger and flashing rage in your eyes. He was furious, but once the dust settled he found himself surprised you were as angry as you were. But in truth he supposed it made sense. It was one hit after another for you and Robb knew you refused to talk about it over his angers.

You and his mother seemed to have spoke something in silence that afternoon when she told you of Renly Baratheon's death. She faded her own words off, but your head whipped up to meet her eyes with a morose knowing falling upon them. But you wouldn't handle it from front of all them, so you switched tactics and spoke of the matter solely on a strategic value. And yet before he had the chance to find the right way to approach you about it, did you and Roose Bolton come into the tent he and his mother were in.

He held a look of a stern knowing of bad news, and you were stiff and trying not to show the shaking in your hands as you gave him the raven scroll. You had only read it moments before Robb had, and as Roose explained it in greater detail, the intensity rose tenfold between both of you.

He couldn't comprehend it at first, there was no way it could be true. Half his life he was raised there. Bran, Rickon, and Arya had never had a life were Theon wasn't in, and Sansa would've been too young to recall what life was like before he showed up. Theon grew from a boy to a man right alongside Robb and Jon both. Robb knew his father treated Theon was good as a son as he could have, what right did he have to stab his family in the back for one that hadn't wanted him for over a decade?

It wasn't until late into the night, you fast asleep with your back tucked tightly against his chest, Robb running a free hand up and down your bare hip did it finally make sense. You went into this war in a difficult position. On an opposing side to a father who thus far had not made any attempt to make peace with his daughter. Knowing were you to have sided with Stannis, you'd have been a Princess of House Baratheon, and without being seen as a traitor by him, many all knew he'd have named you his heir in place of a son.

But you gave all of that up willingly. You set all of that aside to stand by Robb's side, and he pitied the version of his life he went through this war without you. You couldn't fight with Robb and your father both, so you chose him, you chose the family that had made you welcome and showed you love without question. You made the difficult choice to set aside what law dictated was your birthright, and stood with the Starks.

It made sense to Robb, that you took Theons betrayal hard. You were now watching the version of your life that you once feared the North would think of you. But you didn't, you stood out as a Southerner, a foreign girl with a father opposing Northern independence, and yet you were Robbs wife, his Queen, the North's Queen.

Theon went crawling back to a family that didn't want him and betrayed everything he was raised with in order to what? Impress his father? What about his father in Ned? What about Eddard Stark's memory deserved to be insulted like this? Ser Rodrick was dead, his brothers then what he could only assume were hostages.

You and Theon had a rough start, but once you both set aside the grudges against the others family, you both were such easy friends. Robb recalled how amusing it was that once you both stopped hating each other, it was as if that chapter of your dynamic never existed in the first place. You were both the outsiders to the Stark family, and your drastic opposites ended up meshing in some amusing ways that created the foundation for a friendship he knew you and Theon both cared a lot about.

In the easy days, neither of you would admit it as such, but if you weren't doing your duties, if you weren't spending time with either Robb or Jon, they all knew somewhere in the castle walls or wolfswood you and Theon were off competing in some fashion or another. Of course this hit you hard, first your uncle, then Theon, the life you once knew was unravelling before your eyes.

It only got worse when you and Robb returned to the encampment, and found out his mother had released the Kingslayer in the middle of the night. Now, you only had each other. Allies and friends were in this army yes, but in terms of who had the others backs in such a close way, you had only Robb and Robb had only you now.

He loved his mother, but there was no denying the rage at what she had done. Maybe he was harsh about it, but there were going to be untold consequences for setting Jaime Lannister free and Robb couldn't afford to risk your life on top of his mens.

And yet, it never stopped getting worse. Robb barley had time to even consider what had happened at Harrenhal yet. Once Roose Bolton came to he and you with two raven scrolls, it felt as if the world was testing if Robb could keep his kingdom together let alone his family. He told you he'd tell his mother alone, that she wasn't going to take any of it well and she might react easier if it was only him.

You had accepted with too much ease, Robb knew something was wrong but so much had piled on both your shoulders, he had not the foresight to guess. So you left him be, and Robb had to deliver the news to his mother.

“I hadn't seen him in years. I don't even know how many.”

His grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun, had been ill for some time, and finally it seemed the end of such a long bout of sickness took it's toll. Robb could tell his mother had spent well over twenty years in the North by now, she held her resolve in front of her son as well as Robb was doing in front of his mother. She'd fall apart later, and he'd fall apart later. For now, Robb had to be firm as he was comforting. “We'll travel to the funeral together. Roose Bolton will garrison here until we return.”

Robb wanted to feel guilt when she asked him, but he knew he couldn't let his personal attachment to his mother over take what she had done. And so he chose not to answer her comment of, “Will I be wearing manacles when I lay my father to rest?”

The answer was no, but he had a feeling that wouldn't make what news he needed to tell her next any better. It needed to be said, and he needed to not dose the words with honey. She needed to hear the truth as you and him were forced to learn it. “By the time Bolton's bastard Ramsay got to Winterfell, the Ironborn were gone. They massacred our people and torched the castle.” Robb paused to let the burning in his lungs try to deflate just the slightest, keeping the waver from his voice. “Bran and Rickon haven't been found.”

His mother found reason right away as he knew she would try. “They may have escaped, Theon may have taken them back to the Iron Islands as hostages. Have you received any demands?”

No, Robb thought to himself. He hadn't. But Ramsay and his men did find something. Something that painted the picture as clear as it could be, and as her son, this was the last news he wished to tell his mother. But as King, he did so anyways. Because amongst the dead they found, there were two bodies which stood out.

Charred, black, burned, and small. One smaller then the other and just the right size, and from the word of survivors which had hidden away in Winter Town, Theon had let them all know too well who such two little burned bodies belonged too.

By the time Robb reached what was acting as his chambers for the time being, he let the tears flow freely in silence. Head handing in his hands as he sat at the edge of the bed. By the time you had gently walked in, kneeling in front of him with your softness and delicate care, Robb knew he only had you left. The agony of losing everything but you hit him rough in his heart.

Until that was you guided his hand to sit against your stomach just under your clothes with a sweet, tender, whisper on your lips. “You have us.”

Not very warm the chambers you were in, even with a fire going all night. The cracks and chunks missing from the walls anywhere meant that nowhere was so in tact that it could keep the warm in. Though, with the fur atop you almost hiding you away under it and the figure behind you, keeping your back pulled firmly into his chest, you seldom needed to think of it as long as you didn’t leave the bed.

But, you couldn’t do that forever. Your legs itched to move and stand and you knew in bed you’d only fidget around until it woke Robb up, but he didn’t make the task simple. Inching ever so slowly out of his grasp and out of the bed, quickly did you find yourself grabbing a long robe. Draping almost against the floor like a gown as you tied it’s front before making your way along the room. Stepping into a smaller shoe then your usual boots to hide the coolness from your feet as well.

Somewhat along the room was a hall, you suspected once a door existed where it stood but none anymore, burned away no doubt. And no inclination to properly fix, your answer as to the question of why coming shortly thereafter. Wherever it once led, it didn’t anymore. A drop off down to the lower levels, bodies from up here looked like ants and sounds were muffled if any voice could carry to these heights.

The air was cool and a set of stones sat between you and below but little else, but no fear was felt surprisingly. The insides of this great structure exposed to you, and yet that didn’t make you feel fear. The bones of what happened once made you angry, but now you knew there was little to be gained in that thought. They were gone, whats left of their power scattered and being fought over by blood. You feared what this war would bring to the ones you loved even more, not dragons long since dead.

Though, there was one more thing you were afraid of, small touches and a deep voice rumbling in your ear out of nowhere. Followed by a flat expression as the voice laughed. Robb tugged you into his back, one hand on your hip and the other sitting flat against your stomach. You didn’t even need to turn to see his handsome smile as he laughed at your jump. Leaning down to your ear, “It’s a dangerous fall from this height.”

Your smile was soft, nor did you move. “Which is why I still have two feet planted on the ground.” That time his chuckle was more in his chest and yet pulled a greater smile out of you. The quiet sat between you only for a moment before it was you who filled the silence. “I’m sorry.” Asking for what, your voice grew a bit more quiet, a bit more somber. “For everything that happened yesterday, I never said anything about your grandfather.”

Pulling you a bit closer, you felt his thumb run over the material over your stomach more in a gentle pattern. “It’s alright, my love. You had more then a few things on your mind too, yeah?” Tilting your head in a small agreement, Robb rested the side of his head against yours as he looked to the sights over your shoulder. “You weren’t the only conflicted one. My grandfather passed, Bran and Rickon are probably dead, and yet I felt the happiest I ever have when you told me. Suppose we’re a strange mix of both.”

Nodding slightly, your hands reached down, pushing up the material along his forearm of whatever he must have tossed on, you let your hands sit along there. Your eyes narrowed slightly as the wind blew somewhat in your direction, a feeling sitting in your heart that travelled down to your stomach once more. How strange it was that you were scared just last night to tell him. A laugh almost leaving you but of course it did not pass Robbs notice. Asking what, you turned your head slightly before leaning back against him almost more for support. “Everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve done and the thing that scared me the most was telling you about this.”

Another grin left, Robbs lips finding the hair at the side of your head before resting against it once more. Something soft on his tongue without any judgment, “You thought I would be mad. You thought telling your husband, who loves you as much as I do, whose always wanted a family of his own, would be mad his wife is pregnant. For such a smart girl, you’re a bit slow.”

Mouth dropping in part mock offence, Robb laughed only to all but yank you back when you tried leaving his touch. Knowing he was stronger then you, but your voice was more high pitched in an attempt to defend yourself. “We’re also at war, in the middle of Harrenhal when we came here expecting a fight. Of course I thought you would be mad now of all times.” Robb didn’t have to tell you he rolled his eyes for you to know, you could simply sense it.

His hand pressed more firmly down. “You could never make me mad. Certainly not about this. It doesn’t matter what happens in this war, we’ll make this work. I was actually thinking-”

You couldn’t stop yourself from saying it. “That’s a rare thing.”

A yelp followed as he pinched the hip he held, you laughing after apologizing as he pushed passed what you said. “What I was saying, is that I was wondering if you should stay in Riverrun when we get there.” Your head tried turning to the side with a furrowed brow, a feeling dropping in your chest only for Robb to pull it back and lull you back down. “We thought we were walking in on a fight. You were willing to fight in this state, but I don’t want to risk it anymore. You’ll be safe in Riverrun, you and my mother.”

Inhaling a bit, you let your hand drift downwards to rest over his hand. Only to have him switch places, Pressing it firmly against your stomach before covering with his own. The idea made sense, it wasn’t terrible, it made sense, but the thought sounded awful in your heart. You didn’t see the benefit for you in being apart from him that way. “What about you?” A hum came out in question behind you. “Your mother and I hide away in Riverrun, what are you doing without me?”

His head jolted back in amusement at you. “You saying I can’t fight this war without you?” You said nothing, which was as good as an answer to him. Holding you closer, you felt the need to grin in his voice. “Aye, you might be right there. I’ll be useless if I can’t have you beside me at night.”

What sleep would you find without him though? Every since you rode through the gates of Winterfell, three days without food or sleep you hadn’t spend a single night away from Robb. He was always there, always with his arms wrapped around you as you fell asleep. Nightmare or not, Robb was there to ease all of it.

The idea of being without him almost felt scary. What would you even do without him there at this point? You dared not want to actually find out. Shaking your head, you knew you had dropped the tone rather abruptly in your silence but Robb could adjust anyways. “I know I’d be safer. In Riverrun, with the baby, but my place is by your side. This war is yours as much as it’s mine too. As long as your fighting in it.”

The hand on your hip reached upward. Running along to cup your chin and turn you enough to look back at him seeking your eyes over your shoulder. “I’m not doubting that. I’m just trying to plan ahead is all. We might still be out here when the baby comes, and I need to know we have a plan.” Commenting that it was still around seven months in the future, Robb just pressed against your hand on his stomach more firmly. “Just wait and see how much I have planned out when that time comes, then.”

You both stood there for a while, neither feeling the need to say anything. The wind blowing just enough that Robb gently pulled your hair behind you off to the side out of his face. You felt his head moving, stretching upwards to gaze around. Taking the sight in, much like all of you took turns doing. All highborns, some more then others, inevitably learned about the fires of Harrenhal. The horrors of that day no matter how much the written texts by once Targaryean supports claimed it was otherwise.

Cursed and destroyed, no good could ever come of this no matter what. Harren the Black spent decades acting as a blight on the River Lords and the smallfolk, but no one thought this should’ve been the end to him, his sons, nor the castle so many people had struggled to help make. Nothing could justify this, and it seemed Robb did too. Mumbling low in your ear, “So, what exactly happened here?”

Face twisting, you more then halfway turned to look at him with a pure confusion, “I know you know the story, Robb.”

His hands wrenching from your body, he grabbed your forearms to turn you back to the sight, wrapping around you once more when putting you in place. “I do, but you’re the Targaryean expert here. I want to know how you’d tell it.” Asking with a hint of jest, questioning his usage of expert. “You know more about them then anyone else I’ve ever met.”

Sighing deeply, you knew he was not wrong. How much you wished it was, how much your head was tormented as a child growing up surrounded by their memories. Even as you walked over the graveyard of their dynasty, your family creating their new one on top of them, you couldn’t escape how much they haunted you and your thoughts. Everything they did and you rarely ever found something to like. “Well, the Great Council was held here.”

Silence was met before Robb muttered low and bemused, “That’s the first thing you think of in this place?”

Protesting with a grin, “To be fair, that involved my family.” Giving Robb pause, he looked down to you asking how. You didn’t blame people for not recalling that fact, it was obscure history and naturally only you would recall it. Head filled with so much information that held no significant anymore. But, you explained anyways. “Princess Rhaenys Targaryean. She was originally up for a claim as heir at the Great Council. Her father was King Jaehaerys’s firstborn son, but her mother was Jocelyn Baratheon. Our blood was meant to be on the Iron Throne through her before the Great Council.”

A grin came over Robb, as you did knowing exactly what conclusion he came to as you did. “Shame how that never turned out for your House. Baratheons on the Iron Throne.” Your eyes rolled, only to turn in his arms to look more up at him. Your hands grasping at his waist, looking down his shirt mostly left open and his breeches just barley pulled on. Perhaps your eyes lingered just a tad too long, his hand nudging your face up to meet his eyes from under your chin with a knowing glint in his bright blue eyes. “See something you like?”

Biting down on your tongue, any clever retort died on your lips before you let your hands drift upwards. Sliding flat against his torso, slightly letting them drift inside his shirt before running up along his collarbones still under the shirt before wrapping around the back of his neck. Robb held a smile, something both smug and yet soft down towards you, knowing he had caught you leering when you had been in such a more serious conversation. “Can you blame me?”

Oh the grin Robb gave you, making something needy in you almost ready to let the robe fall from your shoulders here and now. “My needy little wife.” Seeing a bright look grow on his face, coming to a realization before your eyes that not you had even gotten to yet. “So thats why you’ve been desperate for me for weeks now.” A flush fell over you, painting over your eyes so obviously as it only made Robb lean down with something more smug overtaking everything else in his eyes and voice. “My needy, pregnant wife can’t get enough of her husband.”

Trying to suddenly leave, your feet carried you only a few paces back into the room before Robb followed. Tugging you right back into his chest. “Oh no, you’re not running from this.” Instead of letting both hands stay at your hips, he let one rise up. Sliding down into the exposed loose fabric of your robe, he found your breast with a greed right away.

Grasping roughly as you gasped, your voice stammering in a pathetic attempt to pretend he couldn’t see so clearly how easily he worked you up. “It isn’t-it’s not that bad..”

Seeking your nipple, he twisted and tugged as much he could from the position he was in. His lips running along your check upwards towards your ear as he was warm in both sound and the breathe against your skin. “So if I pull this off,” His other hand now grasping at the tie keeping you dressed against the cool air as you tensed up, but from nerves, need or the shocks pleasured through you as he groped at your breast, you couldn’t tell. “And slip my hand between your pretty legs, I won’t find you wet already?” You knew he knew it was a lie, but you shook your head no to try. Robb only laughed. ‘You’re a bad liar, my love.”

Ever so slowly, Robbs hand grasped at the loose tie around your waist, pulling enough you felt every tug and pull and the fabric as it loosened around your front. A knock at the door however, stopped both of you in your tracks. Eyes flying upwards as a voice spoke muffled through, “Pardon, your grace, a message for you.”

Looking down at you, your eyes wide and trapped between a need he so easily dragged out of you, or a conflict of wanting to desperately asking him to ignore all his duties and strip you bare and take you back to the bed for anything he wanted to give you. Robb though, grinned before pressing his lips to your cheek. “Tonight, my Queen. If you’re good and wait for it, that is.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh leaving you in a high pitched need before Robb prompted you across the room for you to begin getting dressed. Moving himself towards the door, only opening it enough his figure could be seen as to indicate that whatever was needed would need a moment to get himself together.

It was an odd time for the feeling to strike, that the other lords would need to be told. Catelyn would need to be told. By the end of the day everyone would know, there would be no chance Robb wanted to hide his pregnant wife from his men, proudly wanting to show you off.

Routine at least sufficed for now, standing before him, you were so used to dressing him that neither of you even needed to say anything. He got his under clothes on, and you came to his side to put on his armour. Something at that point, you felt you could do with your eyes closed. His though were open and peeled down to your person. Not reaching out to you to interrupt, but his voice never found reason to hold back.

Robb always ready to fill the air to your quiet, that time a softness and adoration dripping through. “You’re going to have to stop wearing all this.” Your eyes flying upwards, he only flickered down to yourself. “I’m keeping you with me, but if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a battlefield, you are mistaken.” Your head looked up with a flat expression, but he didn’t listen to your silent protest at all. “My mother should have some dresses she could spare for you until we get to Riverrun. Have ones of your own made then that have room for when you start showing.” His eyes looked up as if pausing in thought before looking back down, your hands still uninterrupted at work. “Did the healers tell you how far along you are?”

Your eyes flickered up and back down quickly, your name coming from his lips accusingly. Your eyes down against his chest as you did the straps properly, voice quiet and knowing you’d get into trouble for not mentioning it. “Just over two moons..”

Name coming out more with an audacity, you knew Robb didn’t mean it angrily but he took the tone regardless as if scolding you. “You’ve been pregnant for two months, and you’ve known what? A month of that time and kept it from me?” Muttering under your breath you knew he didn’t hear you, he leaned down, “What’s that?”

Only saying quietly as if to put blame off of you, “Maege has known for a fortnight now.”

If you would’ve looked up to see Robbs face, you’d have seen the most fallen flat expression on him you’d ever seen. Mumbling under his breath with an annoyance you knew he only half meant. “Remind me to have a chat with her later.” Shaking your head with an amusement, you ran your hands along the armour against his arms as it separated from the leathers with a sigh. One signifying a satisfaction in your own work as he glanced down and back to you with a bright expression. “How does a man ever need a squire when he has you?”

A brief flicker of your eyes up and then back down, you only shrugged as you turned to put on a more loose fur lined coat almost too quickly for Robb to even move to do it for you, much to his dismay. Mumbling a bit as you fussed with the clasps at the front, you knew it was something a tad more insecure as it came from you. “It might be a better idea if you’re the one who tells the news to your mother.” Asking why, you felt his presence pace a bit closer but you didn’t look back yet. Still a bit under your breath as if trying to pass yourself off as casual when he knew better. “After yesterday, I don’t think she’d appreciate me coming to her to let her know she is to be a grandmother.” Glancing back up, you let a sigh more come out hoping the nerves left with it, which only marginally worked. “It may come across as insensitive to come from me right now.”

Nodding, Robb let his hands trail down your arms with a warm tone to match his soft gaze towards you. “I’ll handle my mother, you try not to let the men overwhelm you when they find out.” Asking how quickly that would get out, Robb rose an eyebrow as if assuming you should know the answer already, which perhaps you did as he said it. “Once I tell her, the first solider that overhears will tell another-”

Your voice came out much more flat and monotone then his own, knowing the teasing of Northerners coming your way. “Then the entire camp will know by midday.” Robbs head tilted in agreement before letting a hand rise up.

Cupping your cheek as he ran his thumb along the softer skin and tilted you up to meet his gaze as he stepped a tad closer to you. “We’ll make it through this, do you understand?” The words were firm even if his voice had not been, a gentle manner of trying to assure you there was nothing to be scared of. There was, but not for this. Of all things, Robb only wished you not be scared of what was to come with this. But you trusted him without a doubt.

Nodding gently, Robb didn’t say anything further. Instead choosing to lean down, and press his lips to yours. Nothing of greed or even a passion, but something lingering and chaste as you felt him savour the feeling as your hands slid up along his torso to around the back of his neck. His free hand sitting at your waist pulling you closer as he barley allowed himself to part before seeking you out again.

This marriage was nothing either of you expected. Thrusted upon both of you without any foresight that this was coming, you could only imagine how he must have felt hearing of it. You knew yours was less of a reaction and more of a shock.

For years, your father had done all he could to keep you from being pursued by the apparent many suitors which held interest in your name and status. Choosing rather to keep you firmly at his side, learning his trade and skills to one day prepare you to take over Dragonstone when the time came. You weren’t a son, which is what he always wanted, but you were all he had in place of one, and Stannis Baratheon was not a man to leave himself woefully under prepared when he could help it.

You had tried to argue, that he could not just throw this on you, then tear you back here to do his job while he was away when he wouldn’t even explain to you what was going on. For a Baratheon, your father did not often raise his voice, but he had a different tactic with you. A more edge to it that bordered on about to be lectured and it almost sprung something in your head that naturally feared getting on his bad side. Telling you with a deep frustration that he didn’t want to hear another word and that you were doing this no matter what. He had claimed it was the Kings choice and he had none.

The next day you were the only one brave enough to accompany your uncle to the throne room where Jon Arryn’s body was being prepared by the Silent Sisters. Asking in a quiet voice as you both stood to the side, why he was so sudden on this marriage. It was then he told you that it was in fact your father who came to him, all but demanding he make this betrothal as soon as possible. He had already gotten on a boat to Dragonstone then, you couldn’t ask him.

You knew now, why he used you as a pawn to gain the loyalty of the Starks and therefore the North, not that it worked. Only just barley opening your eyes as Robb pulled back, he looked down at you with all the softness you grew up thinking a husband would never show you. It came easy to Robb, as loving him came easy to you.

It had been a very long time since you ever knew something you wanted, but even standing in the blasted ruins of a haunted castle, you could say you had right in front of you all you could ever want. As long as you and Robb had one another now, that was enough. Just as it was enough with the little one between you.

Not all showed perfect respect to your position, but some were more amusing about it then others.

A sudden shout of your name had you turn on the spot some hours later, but not enough before all but being slammed into with a mighty grab. Looking up, the ever bright look in Dacey Mormonts eyes were enough to catch your attention as did her words, “My bloody mother kept this a secret from me for weeks. You trusted her with it but not me?”

A laugh came from you, knowing this was as good as a congratulations to her. “I never really told her, she put it together and I simply never denied it.” Daceys face only dropped amusingly flat, stating that such a thing wasn’t the same as what she meant. Letting an arm stay around you though she backed off enough so you didn’t looked like she was about to tackle you once more. “I wasn’t going to firmly tell anyone without a doubt before Robb.”

Dacey only giving her mother Maege a narrow eyed expression which she clearly read as a question. The later nodding amusingly towards you with a jesting tone, “I tried telling her she’s a fool for thinking he’d be anything but over the moon. Stubborn as all hell this one. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were one of my own girls.”

Sitting you down, more familiar faces begun to gather but it was all in good fun it seemed, teasing you for what seemed the only good news any had heard and would hear for a long time. But it wasn’t the same everywhere, or for everyone.

While back and forths were made at your expense, the air was not the same level of ease in the room Robb stood in. He knew she wouldn’t handle it as well as she might have were their lives all normal as they desperately yearned for, but he had to tell her himself. She’d figure it out and he needed his mother to to be at your side. She half raised you along with his father, Robb knew she deeply cared about you but for many reasons she had let personal feelings get in the way of being there for you the way Robb knew she wanted to.

“She’ll be in danger.”

Robbs voice though raised. Because despite the amount of understanding he could afford her, to did he feel at his wits end going rounds with his mother about you. Some subjects were far worse for his sanity then others, but all aggravating the same. “You think I don’t know that?”

Catelyns face twisted into her own frustration as she turned away. A hand running along her mouth before turning back to her son. “She should stay at Riverrun once we get there.” Robb only muttered that he wasn’t going to hide you away from him the entire war. “She will be safe there.”

Robb turned to face his mother with the hope he looked a bit more collected then full of a nerve then he felt broaching that topic. “Anywhere but by my side she’s not safe.” Catelyn took a moment to look at her son, seeing through his facade as a mother always could and saw the worry in his eyes all too well. Only getting as far as his name when Robb trampled over what would be her consoling to explain himself further with more coherency. “Mother, I didn’t bring her into this fight to hide her away. She’s my wife, and my Queen. I want her by my side, where she belongs.” Gesturing vaguely out to the walls they both knew Robbs men were scattered about. “My men all listen to her, respect her as much they do me. She could’ve gone anywhere, but she rode day and night to come to me when she escaped Kings Landing. I didn’t want to leave her behind then, and I won’t do it now.”

Looking away for a moment, Robb knew sometimes that was hard to consider. Knowing how much this marriage was dumped onto he and you both, Catelyn could almost forget that Robb knew you for near fifteen years before then. You weren’t some stranger, you were someone he knew and cared about but watching how deeply in love her son fell in such a short period of time was jarring he figured.

And it was fast, but Robb knew he has no problem with that. Everything between he and you started fast and he saw no reason to slow that down when you both were comfortable. Your own wedding night, a flustered, shy maiden but you did not hesitate. You knew what was expected of you, and instead of doing it out of only duty, you allowed Robb to teach you how to enjoy it, how to enjoy each other and you never looked back. Why should he? Why slow down when nothing about your lives together would ever give you a chance to do that?

Only when he had you and his child safe in Winterfell would he be able to slow down with you, but he wasn’t afforded that luxury just yet. So he was going to keep the speed you both went at, and that meant keeping you at his side to ensure you both always were at the same pace. Never one maybe leaving the other behind.

But, his mother had a point in her next words. “She’ll be in far more danger when word of this gets out beyond your men, Robb. Both of you will be in far more danger. If the Lannisters hear word that you are to have an heir-”

Robb only cut her off to solely finish her sentence. “They’ll do whatever they can do stop it.” Thinking for a moment, Robb only found himself sitting down. His mother slowly approaching to sit across from him at the small table of her temporary bedchambers. In truth, he wasn’t sure why he said it, but if he could be that honest in front of anyone, no matter their issues now, he could do so in front of his mother.

A furrow in his brow and a roughness to his voice as he said it, not looking at anything in particular. “I thought I’d already be a father by now.” Her eyes flying up to look at her son, but he did not return the gaze. Trapped in a memory of what he wished. “I knew she had to go back to Kings Landing, but I kept hoping she wouldn’t stay. That something would change early and she could come back to Winterfell. Nothing going wrong and maybe I could’ve ended up where I am now by the end of that year at least.” It was a thought, and it was distant and sad but he saw it and he knew his mother of all people would not judge him for it. “They’d nearly by two by now.” Your name coming back up. “Maybe she’d be in the same position, only she’d be pregnant with a second. Make you a grandmother in better circumstances.”

Catelyn let out a gentle huff meant to replace a laugh, the image not too far from the life she truly envisioned for her first boy. Robb had always wanted a family of his own, and while it being with you came as a suprise, all she had wanted for him was what Robb wanted now. For him to have that family, to be together where you all belonged. Not dead or lost or scattered or sworn away to a life never to have a family of their own.

Everything now felt broken, and Robb wouldn’t let go of what was left. And really, what truly was left to him was you and that baby. He loved his mother, but you and the baby were a bright spot on his darkened life. Something hopeful and something that spoke that a future for you all still existed. You and that baby to him were everything and he wasn’t going to leave you behind. Maybe you wouldn’t be safe out here with him, but you’d be together at least.

His mothers voice cutting in, no doubt trying to lighten the mood for his sake. “Do you have any idea what it is yet? Boy or girl?”

Robb only shook his head. “We haven’t gotten that far. She’s two months though, it won’t be long until the healers will be able to make a good guess.” His mother repeating the two specifically with a more narrowed gaze of question that he tilted his head with an answer. “Everything around us, she didn’t realize when she started feeling different until far passed what most women notice.”

He knew she didn’t mean it that way, but she still said it rather dry. “Well, after taking almost two years.”

Robbs gaze turned towards her with almost a glare, “The war has been hard on her.” Not saying anything, he almost now defended his own ability. “It wasn’t for the lack of trying.” Catelyn only gave a bit of a huffing scoff, muttering that she was unfortunately well aware of that.

His mother looked as if she had something more to say, and he knew what. She wanted to say his father would be proud of him, but she had said it once and he wasn’t ready to hear it only months after he was gone. But, he wasn’t ready now either. His mother was to have a grandchild, and he was still fighting a war against the Lannisters who took his fathers ability to meet his grandchild away in the first place.

Robb called his banners to rescue his father, but in turn the gods took him, his sister, and his brothers away from him. The only ones left to share this with were right here, and it was not lost on Robb that he didn’t feel proud of that. He didn’t even know if he’d ever be able to share his new life with Sansa either. With Tywin Lannister in Kings Landing, it was impossible to guess what fate could possibly befall the only sister he had left.

His sisters adored you. Sansa for years now had tried to pretend it was otherwise since growing to her teens, but he knew better. Deep down, Sansa was still that little girl who clung to your leg wanting to beg mother to let you stay and be her big sister forever. She’d be thrilled to be an aunt, but now he dared not think how she would hear that news. What those people must be saying around her of this war and her family, what they were no doubt forcing her to say just to survive.

Robb only had two siblings left to him, and they were the two which he was not sure would ever get a chance to share the new life for this family Robb was building with you.

If anything was true, it was all rather simple for Robb to find you despite being in this place. With the intimidating size of Grey Wind as he always found himself at your side, Robb seldom found it hard to seek you out. Whether he somehow could tell where his direwolf was, or something far stranger neither of you knew how to bring up was going on, regardless, Robb found you with ease.

A hand running along your back to slightly keep you more pressed into his side as Robb came up behind you, you heard his voice address his men with as much collected form as possible considering you knew all day he and you had been bombarded with Northern celebration of their Kings news. “If you could give me a moment with the Queen.”

Much like the rowdiness his father could summon, Smalljon Umber easily carolled the other men and lords up and out. “You hear the King. It’s a big castle, plenty of places to fuck off to.” Not leaving himself though, the just as large man he was like his father, gave a mighty pat on the arm to Robb with a knowing look as Robb only nodded with a held back smile.

Head turning both of you to watch as the last of them fell from earshot, Robb leaned to mutter amusingly in your ear, “Hope they haven’t been giving you the kind of grief they’ve given me.” Turning to him with a curiosity, you only asked what exactly was the kind of grief they were giving him. Robb though, only smirked, turning you to lean you more back against the table as he stood at your front, making you more comfortable as he could manage. “Heard more then enough about how they have no idea why it took you and I so long.”

Raising a brow, your voice was calm as your arms gently crossed along your front. “And, did you also explain to them that being at war makes that sort of thing not so simple?”

It seemed though Robb had an amusement within him. “Oh it is that easy, my love. It’s having it take that was the troublesome part. Not that I didn’t try.” Your gaze filtered away a bit, a fluster wanting to rise up into your face despite how little of yourself you had to hide from Robb at this point. A hand rose up, running along your cheek as you let your hands sit comfortably at his sides. His other sat at your hip, his eyes torn between your face and stomach. “I’m leaving Roose Bolton to hold Harrenhal, he and his men will keep any of whatever scattered Lannisters still out there from coming back here, and we should have everything North secured from them at the least.”

Nodding, your hands felt the need to toy with something, almost fidgeting against his side innocently as if the day had begun gathering up and needing to be expelled somewhere. “Well, at least Lord Bolton suits this place far better then Janos Slynt.” Robbs eyes narrowed a tad as you elaborated. “Commander of the City Watch, a complete imbecile.” Robb only let out a breathy laugh at how plainly you had put it, causing you to look up at him more amused trying to defend your own words. “If you spoke to him you’d agree. Well, maybe you wouldn’t. I’m fairly certain it was just me he had a particular hatred for. They gave him Harrenhal as a reward for arresting myself and your father.” Muttering almost under your breath, “So skilled, having his men do the killing while he held a knife up to the throat of an unarmed girl.”

Looking up and around, Robb only turned back to your attention with a bemused question. “What exactly about this place suits Roose Bolton better then?”

Your answer made him genuinely laugh at how plainly you put it right away. “A cursed ruined castle that everyone fears? Why wouldn’t a man like him suit that?” Robb only saying you had a point, something of the man as admirable to seek as counsel as he was intimidating and off putting to a somewhat fearful degree. You dared not imagine what being at the mercy of a man like him would be should he see you as an enemy.

Leaning you back more against the table in a loungeful manner, Robb let his hands sit more along your waist and hip as he stepped into you with bright eyes. “I was wondering,” Your head turning a bit in wonder not knowing how much he was going to trap you in this spot. “Do you still remember anything in High Valyrian?”

If you thought you could afford to pull away, you would’ve tried. Your eyes and face as flat as you could possible make them. “And why are we bringing that up?” Robb only pointed out the obvious, that this place was now synonymous with the Targaryeans, and he knows you learned their language and he wondered if you were still fluent. “I might be.”

“Say something.” Your voice raised more high pitched but amusingly incredulous with wide eyes to match as you asked why. But Robb only laughed, keeping you close in his hold. “I’ve never heard you speak it before, I want to hear you say at least something.”

“You-”

Cutting yourself off as you looked away with an exaggerated sigh, Robb only grinned brighter knowing he wouldn’t let you leave until you did. “Just one sentence.” Another deep sigh, you didn’t return his touch. Crossing your arms over your chest instead almost like a petulant child asking what he wanted you to say. His answer was just as audacious. “How about my pretty little wife tells me in her foreign language how much she’s looked forward to her King taking her apart tonight?”

Biting down against your tongue, you didn’t want the fluster to arise, giving credence to the fact that he was right and you had indeed been thinking about it. In this state, it was becoming so much more wanting within you to just stay in bed with Robb and focus on nothing else, much to your complete embarrassment over your sudden needs.

“Nyke'll sagon va ñuha ondos se knees syt ñuha dārys, gō kessa sesīr jorrāelagon naejot demand nyke naejot beg zirȳla syt ziry.”

It came out smoother then you thought it would. It had been years since you spoke a word but it came out as naturally as it did as you were fluent. It seemed that fluency did not leave, and what a joy you thought. In no way shape or form did your future entail anything that would make still being fluent in High Valyrian in any way useful.

Robb looked amused though, enjoying the way it rolled off your tongue in a manner which almost held a bit of an accent not yours. The idea taught to you that speaking another language in the accent its spoken in normally, makes it come more fluent and natural to any ears who understand it. “What did you say?”

As if you were going to tell him that. Saying something far more debauched then you’d want to come out of your mouth in Common willingly. No one around knew what you said, you’d rather they not. Prompting you once, twice to get you to tell him, you just laughed saying his name in protest. “You asked me to say something, not to say something you’d ever understand. Maybe I just said you’re a ponderous oaf with a fat head.”

Robb only held more of a smirk and a glint in his eye. “I’ve trained my good girl far too well to worry she’s insulting me in another language.” Your eyes widened as you looked around, but any scattered eyes could not hear you even a little bit. His lips pressing to your cheek before he grasped your chin, leaning down and turning you to face him, his breath dancing across your skin as he muttered lowly, “If I had to guess, my girl just told me how much she wants me to throw her on her hands and knees tonight.”

Your eyes wished to explode from their sockets as you felt a complete embarrassment fill you. “How-”

Robb only grinned with such a smug look that was so enticing on his handsome face. “I know my wife by now.” Before pressing his lips back to yours. Keeping you against him for longer that time, both of you taking the rare moments in such a strange and dour place to feel any happiness. That Harrenhal could ever be a memory of good for anyone, let along yourself and Robb. But as your arms rested along the back of his neck as you kissed him right back, it was certainly so. A place where some good actually arose.

The dreams however, were not. As a night of passion once more between lovers, once sleep fell upon you did strange dreams fill your head. Ones never more vivid then when in the walls of this castle. Whispers in your head as if being spoken to from across the Gods Eye and filling your head with dreams you did not comprehend.

A winged shadow over the skies of Kings Landing, a freezing so cold it shivered your bones in your sleep, and a baby. Dark curls with bright eyes, not green nor blue though, a notable grey staring up at you as did a gentle womans voice whisper in your ear, that you would nearly forget by the time you awoke. As if something about the lands of Harrenhal were trying to show you something far before you were ever capable of comprehending it.

“Promise me, Ned.”

#robb stark x reader #jon snow x reader #robb stark #jon snow #robb stark x you #jon snow x you #robb stark imagine #jon snow imagine #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

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justaz · 3 months ago

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merlin places all his friends to rest in avalon. first freya, then lancelot, then arthur, then gwaine. and then the rest of the knights when they pass along with gwen. freya and co spend time together in avalon but freya is the lady of the lake so only she has the power to manifest herself to merlin. she does so when he comes to visit. she tells him that all his friends arrived safely in avalon and are resting peacefully, recovering from their lives. merlin passes her messages that she carries to the rest and they pass her messages which she carried to merlin.

its a few years later when freya manifests and asks about morgana. merlin isn’t a fan of the conversation but freya says that they’ve all made progress with themselves and each other and have kinda sat back and viewed everything that happened from and outside perspective and gwen wants her best friend and arthur wants his sister to have that same chance, they can’t bear the thought that she’s wandering the forest, driven mad and in pain. they ask that merlin puts her to rest. she’s been tormented enough in her life, she deserves a chance at rest and peace.

merlin begrudgingly treks out to the spot where he stabbed morgana and gathers her remains to carry the bones to the lake. he puts her to rest. freya thanks him and keeps him updated on her progress, it’s slow going but arthur, gwen, and leon want their morgana back, the girl who fought for what was right and just, damn the consequences. years layer freya shares how morgana is more akin to the young girl they described from all those years ago. merlin cries and finally mourns his friend.

morgana’s apology is carried by freya and merlin’s apology is carried back. her first request is for mordred to be put to rest in avalon as well. arthur seconds the request. the knights echo the same sentiment for their brother in arms. morgana tells freya where she buried him and merlin follows her directions and finally puts him to rest in avalon. freya tells him that mordred sobbed when he realized emrys put him to rest, he had thought that bridge was forever burned. merlin will never admit it but he definitely shed a few tears for him as well.

all his friends are together now. at rest. in avalon. more and more years pass but merlin’s health never declines. he’s old, too old, past 100 now at this point. yet he lives. he thinks it might be a cruel joke played by the gods but man can’t live forever so it’s only a matter of time. more and more years pass and he still lives. out of morbid curiosity, he closes himself and imagines himself as he was when he first arrived in camelot. at once, all his aches and pains melt away, his skin tightens, his beard and long hair shrivel up and when he peers into a looking glass he barely looks 20.

a cruel joke by the gods indeed. all of his friends are at peace, resting in avalon, and merlin will never join them. he will remain walking the earth until the end of time or when the gods deem his punishment fulfilled. he will never see his friends again. not unless they rise as the dragon said, but merlin has since come to terms with the fact that the scaly bastard is as manipulative as they come. he may have been lying about that too.

as more time passes and magic begins to fade from the minds of men and they turn to science, pillaging the environment of it’s resources and pumping it full of pollution, freya finds it harder and harder to manifest until she all but can’t. merlin sits by the lake for days without moving and she never appears. the world is different now and merlin is all that remains of albion. camelot fell centuries ago and invaders conquered the isles and made it their own. merlin is all that remains. he is completely and utterly alone.

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teawithmadalice · 19 days ago

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THE DRAGONS DAUGHTER

Prologue • Thranduil x daughter!OC

Summary: Thranduil lost his beloved daughter 500 years ago, on his search for the white gems of Lasgalen- his wife's final gift to him, he finds a young elf who reminds him of his lost daughter.

WORD COUNT: 2k

1 (YOU ARE HERE) • 2

The town square was filled with a hushed anticipation. The people, their faces marked by years of hardship and torment from the years of being terrorized by the fire breathing beast known by the name of Smaug, gathered together as the mayor, an elderly man with a deep, gravelly voice, stood before them.

"Good people of lake town, I stand before you today to speak of a matter both heavy and upsetting- one that has weighed on us all for what feels like generations although we know that is not so. Each season, as the winds begin to stir and change and the first frost that touches the earth melts away into spring dew drops, we face a choice, a duty. A sacrifice. This has taken the form of your hard earned gold, herds of sheep and piles of luxuries are sacrificed in an attempt to appease the beast"

He paused- his gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd, young and old all gathered.

"For almost 2 seasons now, we have lived under the shadow of the mountain. Above us, in the crags and cliffs, the great dragon Smaug watches over this land. I and the council have decided. One innocent soul, taken from among us, chosen by fate and tradition, to appease the dragon’s hunger."

"Regretfully, one newborn babe will be randomly selected by our council, and tonight, will be given as tribute to Smaug"

His voice grew softer now, tinged with sorrow- though it remained firm in its conviction.

"Now, I know that there are some among you who question this. Who feel in their hearts that such a practice is cruel, that the price is too steep. I see your faces, and I hear your whispers. I, too, have felt the weight of this duty, the pang of grief in offering a life so young. But we cannot allow this torment to continue plaguing our lovely town any longer."

"We must remember the fate of the dwarven kingdom of erebor and our sister-city of dale, those people died because they would not submit to the mighty dragon Smaug, we survived because we are lucky enough to have built our quaint town on water, and that the flame of Smaug cannot rage on for long before being distinguished into smoke and steam.

To the great people of Laketown, for our survival, we must do this."

•••••

It is written in the history books that the queen of the elven kingdom of mirkwood, wife of king thranduil and mother to the young elfling prince legolas died during the war on Angmar at the hands of orc barbarians.

The kingdom was said to have mourned the loss of a kind and benevolent queen that day, the realm fell silent, even the elves in neighbouring kingdoms mourned the beloved queen and sent commiserations to the widowed king and young elfling prince.

But what the history books leave out is that the queen of mirkwood, Calathiel, did not die alone. She was on the road to a neighbouring kingdom to seek refuge, with a newly born babe, a princess elfling who had fallen ill and needed treatment that the war-torn mirkwood could not provide.

The knowledge of the princess was unknown to those outside the royal family and those close to them, it was a great risk- a pregnant queen is a prime target for enemy attacks.

Calathiel and the small assortment of guards, (around four or five elves) that travelled with her were intercepted and slain only one day away from their destination- their bodies were left to the elements, ivy growing over the corpses in intricate patterns- a grotesque beauty.

it was three months before a group of mirkwood rangers recovered the bodies.

6 bodies.

Five corpses clothed in armour with weapons in hand and one body adorned in elven silk and silver jewelry, a woven crown laying on top of the silver locks of hair.

No young elfling babe was found among the fallen

•••••

"mama!" a young boy, with a mop of chocolate brown curls came crashing into his home in lake town.

"Aldren Forrinson where on earth have you been boy!" the screech of a woman with the same flurry of brown curls yelled back, putting her knitting needles down onto the stool beside her.

The small blanket was almost complete, a gift for her unborn babe she had carried in her womb for almost nine months, it would only be a few days until her waters broke and the bundle of joy would come wailing and kicking into the world.

"mama I found something! I was out walking in the woods- yes, I know you told me not to go too far from town- BUT! look..." the boy approached his mother, a bundle of soft blankets and wrappings of silk lay in his arms.

A soft gasp left the woman's lips as she peered down, a small pale face peered back with piercing blue eyes-

"give it here boy."

her nimble hands peered back at the many layers of cloth, short silver locks of hair had begun to sprout from the babes head, small pointed ears and a button nose- an elfling.

The elfling shivered, sweat beaded down her forehead, the warning signs of a fever- "listen to me here boy, go to master vere and tell him that the babe needs to be monitored, I can't keep an eye with my bump as big as it is now, " the woman leaned over to the pipe of finished knitted toys, clothes and blankets and took a soft woolen baby hat and placed it a top the babes head, covering the silver locks and pointed ears.

"there. Now off you go boy - shoo"

The sun was setting by the time the small boy got to the village doctor, bursting through the door and laying the babe on top of a table

"Master! babe- sick- fever" aldren panted, out of breath.

The old man stood from his chair, grey haired and wrinkled "oh, I was unaware your mother had given birth- where is she-?" the man turned, expecting to see the boy, but was met with mud trodden footprints made in haste. A sigh left his lips, turning to the babe and picking up the now sleeping infant.

WINTER, TA 2401, CLINIC LOG.

PATIENT: INFANT GIRL 'FORRISON'

DESCRIPTION: pale faced, smaller than the average babe, small scattered birthmark on the left shoulder , newly born.

The patient seems to be infected with a sweating sickness, from my evaluation there is not much that can be done, I have administered a sedative so the babe is not in pain- it is up to the patient to fight the sickness, let us pray she is strong

••••••••

A soft knock resounded on the Forrinson families front door.

The woman opened the door slightly, peeking through the crack- on the other side was an extremely recognisable face.

"Mayor," she spoke, opening the door fully "what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mrs Forrinson, I am not sure if you've heard the announcement I made yesterday in the town centre."

A laugh left her lips at the thought "Of course I've heard, word travels fast and this is a small town after all sire! it's the most interesting thing that's happened here in a long while- it's awful that it has come to this, but I understand why you've decided to take this approach- I hope it works and that whomever the poor child is, that the sacrifice is worthwhile."

"I'm glad you think that Mrs Forrinson. Unfortunately, this is why I'm here talking to you today." his voice was soft, almost remorseful. An unsettling feeling wormed it's way into the pit of the woman's stomach.

"I ventured down to Master Veres clinic to look at the patients logs of all infants born in the last sixth months, in total there were 22"

A deep sigh left the man's lips. "I regret to inform you that your newborn girl has been chosen to do the honourable duty as a forfeit to Smaug- I understand how heartbreaking this must be but i-"

Her pulse was fast. Eyes darting around. She had not yet given birth, but her child was chosen to be sacrificed. Did he think the young elfling was hers? what should she do? her thoughts ran a mile a minute- the elfling was abandoned, has no family that would mourn her- surely she should be the one to be sacrificed, right?

"Mrs Forrinson... Hello Mrs Forrinson are you listening?" the deep voice of the older man snapped the woman out of her thoughts.

"Yes- i- apologies, this is a lot to take in..."

"I understand, your child is still at the clinic, yes? maybe you and your family should go and spend some time with her"

"yes... I-I think we will. Thank you sire."

•••••••

The trek to the caves mouth was difficult, the sharp rocks of the winding pathways cut into the bottom of the townsfolk feet through the soles of their boots- the wind was howling, bitter and cruel, whistling mockingly at them.

Beneath the large cocoon of blankets bundled in Mrs Forrinson's arms, the young elfling was slumbering, blissfully unaware of how each step taken was one step closer to a tragic fate of fire and ash.

The mountain began to shake, rumbling ferociously. "Smaug grows near, be careful!" one of the elders spoke, before he could continue a deep bellowing voice echoed from the opening of the cave

"WHAT HAVE YOU INSOLENT MORTALS BROUGHT ME NOW... A PITIFUL SOME OF GOLD PERHAPS? MAYBE SOME SHEEP TO SATIATE MY APPETITE?"

The blackening void of the cave was broken by two bright orange glowing eyes, emitting a deep growl as they slowly approached closer and closer to the small entourage of townsfolk.

"...NO... IT CANNOT BE TREASURE OR FOOD, I CANNOT SMELL THE GOLD ORE OR THE THUMPING HEARTS OF OBLIVIOUS SHEEP~ YOU'VE BOUGHT ME... SOMETHING... NEW."

"Smaug. We know you are a creature of wrath, a force of nature, and we know the land has trembled beneath your fury. The sky grows dark when you take to the air, and no beast or man dares to challenge your flame. But we are not your enemies—we seek only to survive, to live in peace with the land you claim as your own.

In our desperation, we have come to offer the one thing we hold most precious, the only way we know to ask for your mercy: a child of our own blood, a newborn babe born only a few moons ago. "

He motions to Mrs Forrinson, who cradles a newborn in her arms, unaware of the fact that the babe is not her own, but an abandoned elfling left on the edge of a nearby forest

"We offer this child, her life, in the hope that her innocence might sway your heart. Her cries are pure, her laughter untainted. She is the future of our village- the last hope we have to please you and, in turn, save our people from the shadow of death you cast upon us.

We do not ask for your forgiveness, only that you take this gift and spare us the destruction we fear. We understand the value of a life-of any life-and it is with the deepest sorrow that we present this offering, knowing full well the price it demands.

May you find in this small child something worthy of your grace.

We beg of you... let it be enough."

The older man motions to Mrs Forrinson, encouraging her to step forward and place the bundle of blankets and knitted wear at the mouth of the cave- this child was not her own, but a strong feeling of sorrow and grief ran throughout her body, solemn tears silently dripping down her face.

"I am so sorry little one." she whispered, pressing a soft kiss onto the young elves forehead, patting her hat covered head- one she kept on to conceal the pointed elven ears and the babes true nature.

"YOU MORTALS NEVER CEASE TO AMAZE ME. LEAVE. YOUR OFFERING IS ACCEPTED."

★★★★★

OMG the prologue is done! I'm scared I rushed the ending but oh well- not proofread!

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#thranduil x daughter #thranduil x oc #thranduil x reader #thranduil #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #lotr fic #thranduil fanfiction #daughter!reader #daughter!oc #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit #legolas x reader #legolas x oc #legolas x sister!reader #found family #teawithmadalice #tolkein

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intoxicated-chan · 9 months ago

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ༻ 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬

(A/n) ➳ Going over this, I just now realize how similar it is to the first episode of House of the Dragon and I apologize for that! Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Take care of yourselves and take a break, eat a snack, drink some water!!

Word Count ➳ 2.7k

Content Warnings ➳ 3rd, P.O.V, violence, blood, injury, mentions the Doom of Valyria, mentions of death…

AWOIAF Masterlist

The sun set hours ago… Lake-town was cold enough during the day and when the sun came down, it felt like a winter storm.

Bard was preparing to set off to collect fish again. He hated leaving for so long and coming home for a day or two, it broke his heart whenever he had to tell his children he was leaving again.

Bard climbed the wooden planks and up to the rooftop where his young son, Bain, sat. He leaned back, his head up towards the sky with widened eyes.

“Come Bain, it’s cold.” Bard said, his arms resting on the rooftop. “It’s time for bed.”

Bain turned to his father. “Da, is the dragon gonna come for us? Like the one in the stories you told us?”

Bard hopped onto the rooftop, kneeling to his son. “No, son. The dragon sleeps within Erebor. It has for a hundred years.”

But Bain pointed to the sky. “But there’s one.”

Bard followed his finger and squinted. He felt his heart drop when he saw the shadowy figure soaring through the sky. He could barely make out the size or his wingspan.

A gasp left his lips as he grabbed his son’s shoulders. “Go, go inside.” He demanded, pushing him. But his eyes remained on the dragon. “Quickly now.”

Watching him take a couple of laps around the Lonely Mountains. His heart raced, was the dragon trying to tempt Smaug? He followed his son inside, trying to remain calm for his children.

He didn’t see the dragon descend towards Mirkwood.

The dragon flapped his wings as he touched the ground, sending out a cloud of dust, twigs, and leaves out of his way.

The dragon grumbled as the guards surrounded him. “Rȳbās.” His rider told him, taking off the leather belts that held her to the saddle. “Lykirī.”

The dragon bent his neck, allowing the rider to dismount. She smiled rather widely, running her hands along his scaly neck and to his head.

She placed her hand under his eye, seeing her reflection in his eye. She laughed as her dragon rumbled under her touch, she placed her forehead onto his skin, closing her eyes, humming a soft tune.

Tauriel approached her with a stern expression. Usually, she would happily greet her but considering that nobody was supposed to be leaving Mirkwood, let alone at midnight, she was frustrated.

“The King does not like repeating himself.” Tauriel warned her, coming close even if the dragon seemed to be displeased. “No one is allowed to leave unless granted.”

She pulled back from her dragon and turned to face her, the smile still on her face. “Aegar is more than big enough to saddle two. I know how much you love the sky.”

Taruiel shook her head in disappointment. “Come, the King wishes to speak to you.” She walked with some of the guards, two waiting for her.

She sighed and followed her, leaving Aegar to lay and rest.

She may have been here her entire life, but the Kingdom of Mirkwood never ceased to amaze her. They have been friends for her entire life as Tauriel was the one who taught her how to use a bow from a young age.

They walked arm in arm through the halls of Mirkwood. Tauriel found herself unable to contain her laughter and smile.

“It is difficult to understand you.” Tauriel giggled. “Do you take pleasure in seeing all of us scramble to locate you?”

(Y/n) grinned sheepishly. “Admit it. You wish to ride a dragon.”

“I believe I’m content with seeing you fly.”

“Your loss.” She pushed her lightly. “So tell me, how angry is he?”

(Y/n) then pulled her arm back as they approached the throne room, Thranduil sat there, observing a jewel in his hands.

Tauriel took her leave but not before looking back at her, her smile had faded but she remained calm. Tauriel left before Thranduil could say anything else to her.

“(Y/n).” Thranduil’s voice was calm yet assertive. But there was an edge of frustration. “You know how I feel about these reckless flights of yours. And to venture out without my permission, disappointing.”

(Y/n) bowed her head, her gaze focused on the floor. “Forgive me, My Lord.” She replied. “Yet you don’t allow me to go flying with your permission.”

Thranduil sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You must remember there are dangers out there, worse than what Aegar poses. You dare fly close to Erebor? Are you asking to battle with Smaug? A dragon three or more times larger than Aegar. He may be a dragon but you are not.”

(Y/n) straightened, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “Aegar is strong, he is loyal. I wouldn’t dare use him as a weapon.”

“The time is coming, (Y/n). You are a formidable soldier, you two make quite a team.” Thranduil admitted. But with a wave of his hand, he dismissed her. “Take a bath, you stink of dragon.”

It has been several days since Thranduil warned (Y/n). His words lingered in her head.

She shouldn’t have to feel frustrated with him, afterall, he was the one to find the items left behind by your family.

There were many things gifted to her when she was old enough to read. Books of her great- great- something grandfather’s handwriting, it was worn, some words difficult to read.

Before she even learned of High Valyrian, she thought the words were a remembrance of her home or maybe her family. But no.

It was far from it. A warning.

Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor.

A dragon is not a slave.

She managed to grasp her forebear’s language with some help but she wouldn’t say she mastered the tongue of High Valyrian. Rather, she knew the basics.

It was noon, the sun casting a warm glow over the wooden yard. (Y/n) focused on fastening the leather straps to the saddle, she had a feeling that it was becoming loose.

Aegar laid comfortably on the ground, snoring.

Legolas leaned against a nearby tree, watching her and noticing the furrowed brow that she had for nearly an hour.

“Something is on your mind.” Legolas commented. “Speak, looking bothered does not suit you.”

(Y/n) paused, her fingers picking at the old and peeling leather. “It is nothing.” Offering a smile.

But Legolas saw through her smile, he could see it in her eyes. “You forget I know you, I knew you from the start… You’re worried that once Aegar is old enough, you’ll be forgotten.”

She sighed, tying the leather back into the saddle. “I only worry for Tauriel. The King does not respect her enough.”

“You worry too much, you need to place some of it on yourself and Aegar.” Legolas stepped forward. “You have earned your place here.”

“I have no place here. My home is gone and I’m an outsider, I’m no elf. If I had not appeared with my dragon, Thranduil would’ve sent me away.” She explained, standing to her feet as she observed the saddle.

Legolas was ready to push that idea out of her head. He had no idea she thought of herself so lowly. He grabbed her arm.

Tauriel suddenly appeared. “There’s trouble.” She announced tension in her voice. “The King has ordered another nest to get rid of.”

(Y/n) pulled her arm back. “Aegar!” She shouted, waking him up from his slumber. “Iōrās.”

Aegar stood on his feet, stretching his wings. She grabbed the ropes to mount him.

“(Y/n), wait,” Tauriel grabbed her hand. “The King has requested you stay behind.”

(Y/n) frowned and scoffed. “It would be easier if Aegar-”

But she could see it in Tauriel’s eyes, Thranduil was going to keep her and her dragon here. “A dense forest with a large dragon?” Tauriel laid it out for her. “He fears the damage it could cause. Aegar could not maneuver properly in those woods.”

“Alright.” She muttered, stepping away from Aegar. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

(Y/n) watched them go, annoyed and saddened. She longed to be by their side, joining them in a fight.

Thranduil was going to make her wait and watch. He was going to make her feel like a burden. His way was punishment.

(Y/n) watched from the corner, watching as each dwarf was pushed into a cell. Their complaints were falling on death’s ears.

She stepped out from the shadows and towards Legolas’s direction, wanting to know where the dwarves came from.

“What do you know of dragons, girl?” The dwarf’s voice was gruff, laced with bitterness as he eyed the dragon sigils embroidered into her clothing. “You wear it like a badge of honor.”

(Y/n) eyed him as well, realizing who the dwarf in the cell was. “You’re Thorin Oakenshield? Heir to the throne of Erebor.”

Thorin’s fists clenched around the iron bars. “You have yet to answer my question.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened in amazement. “I cannot believe it. I’ve-”

“(Y/n)! Dina!” Legolas commanded her to come. “Get away from the dwarf.”

With that, she walked away, leaving no room for Thorin or (Y/n) to say anything.

“Must you speak to them?” Legolas sneered, following you down the steps. “What reason do you have?”

“I’ve always wanted to see the infamous Thorin Oakenshield. It was not disappointing.”

“...Is it?”

(Y/n) nodded, a smile on her lips. “Yes. If what they say is true… If they reclaim the mountain, I would love to see the glory of Erebor.”

Legolas froze in his steps. “I am beginning to wonder where your allegiance lies.”

“What makes you wonder that?”

“...Go, I need to report to the King.”

She rolled her eyes, asking herself if her curiosity made Legolas or anyone else question her loyalty.

Of course, her loyalty lies with Thranduil, he saved her and took a human and a dragon in. A human not from this world.

The sun had begun to set when (Y/n) stood at Thorin’s cell. “Might I ask you something?” She began, breaking the silence.

He looked up at her, eyes wary. “What is it? Dragon rider?”

“If you had no memories of the kingdom or its riches, would you still fight to reclaim it?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “For it is not the gold or treasures that drive me, but the honor and memory of my kin who were lost. To reclaim Erebor is to honor their memory, to give those who wish for their home.”

He stepped closer to the bars as he spoke his words, loudly enough for the rest of the Company to hear. He spoke with bravery and pride, not a single ounce of shame in them.

(Y/n) listened to his words closely. It made her think of her own home, the writing of the book could not describe the doom correctly.

Only a dream, unsure if it came true…

(Y/n) became lost in her thoughts, she began to speak aloud. “I wonder…” She uttered. “What it would be to see Valyria, to walk the streets, see the dragons fly into the sky with my people on its back. I wonder if any Targaryens remain.”

She sighed, sitting down on the steps. “I wonder if the dream was true and the doom of my home was correct.”

Thorin, still irate from the encounter from earlier but genuinely curious about her side of dragons, sat as well. “Was it taken?”

“It was destroyed. A Targaryen had a dream, D… Daenys had a dream. She had foresaw the destruction. But I have no way to know if it was true, I do not know if Valyria still stands or if any Targaryens remain to rule the skies.”

(Y/n) looked up to the ceiling, closing her eyes to remember how Valyria was described. “To be home. I would give my life just to see it.”

“…May you find your way home, dragon rider… And safely.”

It was a chaotic scene. The dwarves and Bilbo found themselves stuck in wine barrels but their path down the rough rivers were blocked by the portcullis.

Kili’s cry was loudly heard as he fell back, clutching his leg that the Morgul arrow stuck out of.

“Kili.”

Thorin felt his heart sink, hearing his nephew’s cries as he was unable to do anything.

Legolas, Tauriel, and the other Elves fought against Blog and his party.

The Orcs were relentless, fighting to the point until their bodies gave out and welcomed death.

Arrows flew into their bodies, daggers stabbed into their hearts or heads.

Kili’s eyes shut tightly, hissing loudly as he attempted to get back up.

His eyes opened and widened, his eyelids fluttering as the pain was flowing throughout his body… He could see a dragon flying… A dragon?

He could make out the dragon’s silhouette against the sunlight, circling the river before he saw him make a dive. He could hear him roar, loudly.

Tauriel’s eyes immediately shot to the sky, Aegar’s body casting a shadow over the river.

Aegar descended from the sky and landed into the river, his landing sending waves that splashed anyone close.

Thorin couldn’t see Aegar but the sound of his roar was enough to send chills down his back. He looked back and saw the rest of his Company staring up at the dragon.

(Y/n) swiftly unchained herself from the saddle, her feet hitting the ground. She drew her sword, cutting down the Orc coming towards Kili.

She took a quick glance around and estimated the amount of Orcs, she could hear another group coming.

Aegar let out another roar, lunging forward and his massive jaws snapped shut on the nearest orc, easily crushing him into two pieces.

He exhaled a quick stream of flame at the incoming group, the Orcs screaming as they threw themselves into the river.

The Orc swung his ax at her, she ducked and cut his leg, making him kneel with a shriek. She pierced his head with force, making sure he was dead.

She continued to cut through the Orcs with Aegar protecting her, coming down on an Orc that nearly came down on her.

“Tauriel!” She shouted as she tossed one of her daggers past Tauriel’s head.

She grabbed the dagger lodged into the Orc’s chest to stab it once more before using it on another, she tossed it back and (Y/n) caught it.

She heard Kili loudly groan once again, Thorin’s Company were sitting ducks in those barrels and they could only do so much with little to no weapons.

That’s when she noticed why the Company was just floating. The portcullis was shut. It must’ve been why Kili wasn’t in his barrel and why he was on the ground, holding his knee.

(Y/n) dodged another Orc’s attack, managing to move behind him. She grabbed his head and slid her blade across his neck, she then let him fall to the ground.

She came to Kili’s side. “Now’s your chance!” She stated, crossing blades with another. “Go! Before they outnumber us all!”

Kili managed to conjure whatever strength he had left and grabbed the lever, opening the portcullis, and allowing the Company to escape.

“Kili!” His brother cried out, watching Kili slump to the ground once again but push himself into the barrel.

Kili felt and heard the arrow snap, sending another wave of agony throughout his weakening body.

(Y/n) watched as one-by-one, the Company fell into the water and their barrels carried them through the rough stream.

She turned back the Orcs, immediately impaling one Orc coming down on an Elf, and used her dagger to finish the job.

She looked up at Legolas drawing another arrow. “Secure Mirkwood.” He ordered. “Worry about damages later.”

Legolas ran off, following the Orcs that were focused on the Company, Tauriel was behind him.

She rushed to Aegar, she climbed onto Aegar who lowered his neck, allowing her to quickly settle herself.

“Sōvēs!” Aegar began to run, flapping his wings a couple of times before taking off.

(Y/n) directed him towards the gates, wanting to spread the word first. Thorin looks back into the sky, watching Aegar and noticing (Y/n) upon his back.

Taglist ➳ @mrsdurin , @marsmallow433 , @oneiratxxia10 ,

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bonefall · 11 months ago

Note

again looking over the reworked history what the hell happened with Ripwater, I wanna know. What *was* that? How did Riverclan kill it?

Oooooh, quite a request! Ripwater, Queen of the Lake, one of the episodes of BB!Po3!

Ripwater is a Wels Catfish, the largest freshwater fish in Europe. The biggest specimen EVER caught was just landed last year, in 2023, 9.4 feet long. It wasn't weighed, but smaller fish than this one have broken 300 pounds.

And it's not a good thing that we're catching so many big ones.

Wels catfish are extremely invasive across most of Europe, introduced for anglers who want to land record-setting catches. They're massive, intelligent carnivores, sometimes called the "freshwater orca" because they will lunge out of the water to catch land prey. They DESTROY the population of anything big enough to fit in its terrible mouth, including fish, amphibians, and even turtles.

They get that big from a mix of constant food and hot temperature. It's a sign that they're devastating their surroundings, and that nothing has been able to kill them for the decades it takes to get so large.

So of course, some dunderhead put them in British rivers, where they've been spreading upwards ever since. Thankfully they thrive better where it's warmer, so they're not too massive of a threat to BB's modeled regions in Northwestern England, but they're fucking coming.

Ripwater's name isn't an exaggeration. That's how they hunt. They gape their jaw and beat their fins like dragons, creating eddies and currents that suck their hapless prey in. When RiverClan names her, it's because they see her ripping the water in half. I was thinking about her recently, and came up with some new stuff. I'll take a brief break from my drafts to serve up some fragments for you.

[A gray cat with blue eyes, Lakepaw, later BB!Lakeheart, swims in bluegreen water surrounded by lilypads. Below her is the massive shadow of Ripwater, a gigantic Wels Catfish. Its eyes flash in the depths.]

SMALL RECAP OF BB!PO3: (to set the stage)

It is now a breather arc, just dedicated to some worldbuilding!

I feel pretty strongly that Po3's strength is how AWESOME of a slice-of-life arc it could have been. To this end, I removed the Kin of your Kin prophecy from it, until it's revealed only at the very end just before Cruel Season.

That's so I can focus on The Three and their adventures around the lake, without this big prophecy looming over them and making the lower-stakes conflicts look small.

Instead, the various episodes of Po3 are related to problems that their new home presents, with just a teeny bit of Sol's magical influence to spice things up.

While Lionpaw learns about the "meaning of strength" and ultimately learns a terrible lesson he will extend to his kits, and Jaypaw finds his limits and learns to prevent others from defining them for him, Hollypaw is grappling with Fire Alone and how to reconcile her grandfather's legacy with her strict dedication to the Warrior Code.

And SO we find ourselves in one of the earliest episodes of BB!Po3; Ripwater the River Demon. This is like... episode 3 or 4, it's a REALLY early one.

I'm just shuffling it around with ANOTHER RiverClan-centric episode; the Shinewater Plague. The oilspill from TNP is now going to be bumped up to Po3 so it's more about establishing Mothwing and her apprentice Willowpaw, to contrast Leafpool and her apprentice Hollypaw, before Holly swaps to being a warrior. Jaypaw completes warrior training before becoming a Cleric apprentice.

So I don't want them to be TOO close together. Maybe put Ripwater in Book 2 and have RiverClan comment that they don't really want to ask for help because of the last big event, Mistystar hates feeling indebted to ThunderClan.

After all, it could basically replace the "flood" episode from Canon Po3, which is often forgotten about anyway. I'm already having ShadowClan construct dams instead of RiverClan anyway...

ANYWAY RIPWATER

I want to start this episode off with Sol/Harry, who is unnamed, messing around near water. He has a bit of a fish motif going on that I want to establish, and I need to get him to start messing with the Clans good and early.

(Specifically his motif is going back and forth between the koi, also an invasive and notably domesticated species, and the atlantic salmon which is famous for its changing life cycle.)

The Wels Catfish is an invasive species to England, slowly making its way up the island from the South. The fish who will become Ripwater, at this point, is already HUGE but not cat-swallowing huge. She's an 80-pounder.

Sol hits her with some godly magic, which allows her to grow at a rapid rate.

The sort of thing where it wouldn't be COMPLETELY implausible. He just... helped it along.

When we get to her first true on-screen appearance interacting with RiverClan, she is nearly 300 pounds of monstrosity with a length of about 8 feet

I'm unsure how, exactly, ThunderClan comes to know of this. But I DO know that I want Hollypaw to be snooping, and heavily encouraged by her mentor Brackenfur to do so. So, somehow, SOMETHING starts going wrong across the lake and ThunderClan catches wind of it.

Thinking about it, this should probably be her first big action after swapping out of Cleric apprenticeship.

One of the few things she's missing about Clerichood is the way she could be close to Willowpaw without needing to sneak around so much. It's easier to just pass it off as "friendship" and "Clerics need to be close." Leafpool and Mothwing are a similar way.

Possibly work in that Hollypaw's also already seeing Heatherpaw in the tunnels, contrast the two things...

At this point, Hollypaw has a crush on Willowpaw, which is requited, but... it's kinda fading.

She still loves her like a friend, but she's liking Heatherpaw a lot more. It doesn't mean she doesn't CARE for Willowpaw, of course, but

Willowpaw is still IN love, and it's slowly becoming unrequited, when it didn't used to be.

And from RiverClan's POV...

The first disappearance is so sudden they have no idea what's happened. I'm planning for it to be Robinpaw.

(I go back and forth on if it's Robinpaw or Dapplepaw, but I'm leaning towards Robinpaw again, because I like Dapplenose too much to have her get killed off here.)

She went out clamming in the lake with her sisters, Lakepaw and Otterpaw, there was a swirl in the water, and that was it. She was gone.

Just like that.

She never came back up. RiverClan searched for her, following the currents, checking the shoreline, everything. It was like she vanished.

Mistystar is suspicious and doing everything in her power to figure out what happened, but... let's face it. It's the word of two apprentices, who were swimming alone, who swear Robinpaw just went under.

Misty JUST got done with the Shinewater Plague and isn't trying to make RiverClan look like it can't keep track of its own young. The most likely situation is that Robinpaw was sucked down by an undertow that the three of them were too inexperienced to recognize.

So... she's pretty adamant about not sharing this information until Robinpaw's body is found. Jaws Style. "We cannot let the other Clans be alarmed by this, else they might meddle in our affairs..."

(and she's still maybe a little paranoid that some snoop in another Clan is going to find out that Leopardstar wasn't killed by a rogue, y'know.)

I don't want it to be TOO much of a bloodbath, so I'm capping Ripwater's body count at three and just aiming for two deaths total.

I'm also going for a coincidence RiverClan is going to interpret as a pattern; this happens a lot, specifically, when they're hunting Freshwater Pearl Mussels.

Ripwater doesn't like the river as much as she likes the lake, but it has nothing to do with their clamming. They're just going to interpret it as such.

Anyway.

The next one she goes after was lucky. By some stroke, she opens her jaw, and the victim is able to grab onto something before they're sucked in. (Maybe toss in something here were it was Holly who was able to help save them.)

Since the WHOLE Po3 Apprentice Generation is going to be getting more focus, there needs to be more input from the RiverClan apprentices. Lakepaw and Otterpaw obviously need time here, but I also NEED to involve Ripplepaw, to establish how he's going to be seen as one of the strongest in RiverClan by OotS.

EDIT FROM THE FUTURE AS I FIGURED STUFF OUT:

It was Ripplepaw, Otterpaw, and their two mentors on a raft who were attacked next. They were fishing for mussels in a shallower part of the lake.

Otterpaw was tethered to the raft with a flax lead, so it wouldn't float off. Or just tugging it in her mouth. Either way she had a line.

When Ripwater attacks her, she is swallowed on the line like a worm on a hook

And it starts pulling the WHOLE RAFT down, just a crummy bundle of sticks

One of the mentors started shouting to cut the line, else it would drag all of them under, but Ripplepaw dives right down to beat its ass without telling them he's not gonna cut it

Hollypaw just rushed right in, didn't think about it, forgetting she was supposed to be trying to sneak around

Taking control as the natural leader she is, she ordered them to shut up and start pulling the opposite way

Underwater, Ripplepaw braced himself against the fish's lips, grabs Otter's tether, and YANKS

Abovewater, the adult warriors are pulling together, Holly grabs the raft and pulls too

Once their paws touch the bottom of the shallows it's over, one last HEAVE-HO and POP!

Otterpaw is FREE

And when it's finally known that the apprentices weren't mistaken, there's a monster in the water, THAT'S when the debate really starts up. Mistystar does NOT want ThunderClan meddling, and she'll already be pissed off that Hollypaw (and any OTHERS who tagged along with her, I wouldn't put it past Honeypaw to wriggle her little yellow butt into a later draft, or Lionpaw for his massive strength) witnessed something that's not her business.

There's a moment from canon I desperately want to keep; where Squirrelflight comes to fetch her daughter.

(more reason to just say this is replacing The Flood Episode from canon lmao)

It's such an interesting moment, and so forgotten. In a nutshell, Squilf is both furious and concerned that her kit went missing and meddled in another Clan's affairs, but... understands the impulse.

Because it's something she would have done.

So when she scolds Hollypaw, there's this aching feeling that she's scolding a younger version of herself. Calling her arrogant and disloyal, that an apprentice's opinions mean less, and that she needs to listen to "older and wiser" warriors within her own Clan.

In BB, I want to do something big with this. Firestar is the figurehead of Fire Alone, who encouraged Hollypaw's behavior through his deputy, Brackenfur, who he set as her mentor for a reason.

But Squirrelflight is being abused. By Brambleclaw.

This is one of the lowest points in Squirrelflight's life, and she is walking a line between self-worth, the warrior code, and her personal beliefs, just like her daughter is.

SO, since I'm already using Brambleclaw's enabling of Ashfur's physical abuse as one of the contributing factors to Hollyleaf's descent, I ALSO want to show how he acts on other characters.

Brambleclaw, Clan Culture, the pressures of their strength-obsessed social system. So it's gotta be Squirrelflight that reminds her, or even plants the seed in her head;

"What you did isn't consistent with the Warrior Code."

Maybe even have Mistystar herself state this earlier, to be echoed by Squirrelflight, offering an alternate perspective to Hollypaw. Make her realize that ThunderClan's political leanings are not universal or even popular.

But when Hollypaw comes back to ThunderClan, whoever set her to be a snoop wants her to spill the beans. This is also a big WIP part, as Hollypaw struggles with if she's going to obey or not, and I still need to set all the political "players" in this moment.

I know for sure, though, that Firestar's IMMEDIATE desire is to meddle like it's an episode of Scooby-Doo. Though he's savvy enough to be smart about how he phrases it and what actions he takes, his ultimate goal is to put his little cheeto-dust paws all over this. And Hollypaw is starting to question how appropriate that actually is.

This is where it starts to really be a rip in Holly's mind. Clans aren't JUST big, blanket groups with united opinions, they're collections of individuals. Mistystar doesn't want meddling, but Willowpaw is in danger. Otterpaw and Lakepaw went all that time without being believed, after they watched their sister die, because they're lowly apprentices like her. Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw are angry and disappointed, while Firestar and Brackenfur are secretly lathering her in praise.

Now imagine me standing in front of a big board where I'm writing ??? because there's a missing chunk here.

I need to connect THIS part to what comes next, which is where ThunderClan DOES come in and help out. Here's the thought process going on in RiverClan;

Willowpaw comes in to do something important. She adores Hollypaw, knows her value as a Cleric, and knows that StarClan can sway Mistystar.

I want her to have a couple of pieces of a vision... BUT. She decides to interpret it in a way that's convenient, and add a few details.

It's not a tooootal lie lmao. It's just 75% true.

This is the true power of Clerics, when they realize it. No one can actually challenge them without just ignoring them or stripping them of power. They are accountable to StarClan alone.

A mentor simply doesn't say this out loud to their apprentice. It's a quiet secret. And Willowpaw just realized it.

and thinking about it... this should be the thing that finally breaks the budding romance Holly and Willow had. Holly is sickened by this, when Willow confesses how she convinced RiverClan to work with ThunderClan.

But, without even being a full Warrior, the apprentice leverages her power as Cleric of RiverClan, and 200 skill points of Improv Acting, to tell them these things;

"StarClan is so angry with us that they've sent a hog to the water! It's why they've sent a ThunderClan apprentice, we must work with them to eliminate the beast that lurks in our waters. With spears and plans, we must hunt it honorably!"

(Mistystar is defensive, but it's not known why) "We haven't disobeyed StarClan in any way. We'd already accepted their help once before, when sickness drove us to weakness, and it's only let them think they can disrespect our borders as they please. This can't be the holy will of our ancestors."

"It's-- We've been disrespecting this bountiful new land that they've so generously given us. That's what the pile of shells in my dream was. Think about it! The last attack was on the shore where we collect mussels. The second attack was on a cat latched to a raft, and it was only the tether that saved them. And the first..."

IVE GOT AN IDEA, Robin, Lake, and Otter WEREN'T clamming when they were attacked. She gestures over to Lake, knowing that if she doesn't back her up, the theory crumbles.

(Otter is in the Cleric's den, unconscious.)

Lake hesitates, not wanting to lie. Willow jumps back in,

"It's why Otterpaw was attacked," does those little jazz-hands to be like 'come in bitch work with me,' "And it's why Lakepaw has to be involved in killing it, to end what she started, and appease StarClan."

Lakepaw more like I LIKE-what-you-just-saidpaw, "It's true, we were so ashamed to admit it, Mistystar, this is all MY fault, I wanted my siblings to dig up mussels, PLEASE let me atone by stabbing the fish to death"

AND AFTER THAT IT'S NOODLIN' TIME

Mistystar, begrudgingly, accepts Firestar's help, or perhaps reaches out to him. Ripwater is a "Hog in the Lake," a beast too big for them to kill honorably on their own.

ThunderClan is the ONLY Clan that uses spears, and only for boar hunts. To protect themselves and to give their quarry a quicker death.

No other Clan touches weapons for dishonor reasons, as they're heavily associated with the demon Shredtail.

I should have Willowpaw explain her half-truth to Hollypaw here, and it's where Hollypaw just... so very suddenly can't look at Willowpaw the same way.

Jaypaw would definitely face an ableist moment from someone, but it's going to have to be one of those times where he accepts that there IS a very real limit to his ability here. Spears are range-weapons and his whiskers don't reach that far. He can't tell where he's stabbing, and the water is going to make it too hard to smell where Ripwater's dangerous mouth is. He can't be chosen for this hunt.

Meanwhile Lionpaw learns from Willowpelt how to make a spear and it is one of the most satisfying things he's ever done in his life, he's like "this is so awesome oh my god i love weapons"

just gently setting up that he's going to eventually become ThunderClan's head of hunting, and also that he's a lil violent

I feel like him and Lakepaw should hit it off a little because they both think the idea of stabbing a fish in the face is super cool, only for someone to growl at them that they shouldn't be enjoying themselves so much

Maybe Blackclaw, fuck that guy

(absolute tangent but BB!Lionblaze is kind of evolving into a little dork and I love that for him. Local himbo only capable of making friends or enemies, all Clanwide opinions on him are polarized, more at 11)

THE PLAN

So how DO they kill that thing? First of all, it's all about strategy.

Immediately they started making a couple of specialized spears. Most spears they make are exclusively for boar-hunting, so they have a distinctive "lug" that prevents a boar from impaling itself down the shaft to get you.

Someone in RiverClan explains that you don't want a fish having the chance to get off a claw. If Ripwater escapes, they might not find her again until she kills someone else

The solution is that these need to be custom-made, with special claw-shaped prongs, so they're chevron ^ shapes instead of tear-drop points. They stab in, and don't pull out.

So they need to make spears from scratch, which is an intensive process, and they don't have time to waste. RiverClan doesn't want to hunt by water that has a chance of having a freshwater orca spawn and drag you in; they'll starve

And there's only so many artisans in TC that can MAKE spears. Glue, twine, shafts, blades... these are all things that take hours of labor to create.

And MORE IMPORTANTLY, they realized from the Raft Rescue that a tether, attached to a floating object, can be very useful. Each weapon has rope tied through it and is tethered to a raft-- which is even MORE intensive, RiverClan had to repurpose several nets to create so many lines, and they only own three rafts, so the rest have driftwood.

So they only have time to create 3 special water-spears, and bring in 2 modified boar-spears.

Lionpaw is like visibly disappointed he can't have one lmao

The only apprentice given a spear is... Lakepaw. And it's a boar-spear

Because she's gonna be bait. They believe the litter is cursed for their "sin" and she'll be the next target.

But still, they chum up the water near the last sighting with blood and crowfood, like hog slop, and wait.

(Heavy WIP stuff here as we get to a play-by-play I haven't fully figured out yet)

Their plan is to get it on the shore as quickly as possible.

Four cats could pull Otterpaw from its mouth, so 5 spearcats and a dozen strong warriors could pull it onto the shore. Surely.

shorely.

It comes as expected, lunging at Lakepaw. She leaps back and tries to use her spear on it, but she is NOT properly trained with it, she stabs its face, but can't break the skull

RiverClan manages to toss a net at the beast, but it's NOT heavy enough

And they managed to get LAKEPAW with it, pressing her to the beast, her spear is dropped into the water

Someone shouts that it swims like an eel, able to just reverse course unlike a REAL fish which must turn

In the panic, warriors start mobbing it.

she thrashes, and splashes and the net is barely holding her back at all

She smashes a warrior with her tail, buffs another with her powerful head

She's stabbed in her side by a ThunderClan warrior (probably Sandstorm), and she turns on the raft they're standing on, breeching and SMASHING it to bits. Lionpaw and the rest of the cats on this raft get dunked

In the water, ThunderClan cats are useless, and RiverClan cats can't properly handle spears.

Someone from RiverClan, probably Blackclaw, tries to free Lakepaw but is scooped up in Ripwater's mouth.

He's screeching and yowling and trying to hold onto its upper jaw, regularly cut off as she dives under

When Willowpelt gets her spear in, she holds onto that damn stick with her LIFE, getting swung around and dunked in the water and then going back up into the air

Thornclaw, holding the other boar-spear, aims for its tail

But it's not enough; Even with several warriors of RiverClan, five spears, a net, and the weight of the two remaining rafts, Ripwater's managing to pull them towards the depths

She's too big to bite, too large to claw, and too strong to hold down

LIONPAW TIME

He grabs the spear that Lakepaw dropped

Ripplepaw seems to zoom right passed him, running away from the fish. He thinks he must be some kind of coward, the fight's NOT OVER YET!! WE NEED TO HELP LAKEPAW

(In a later draft I might have Lionpaw be on the smashed raft, and Ripplepaw brings the spear to him before turning and bolting back to shore. Either way he doesn't explain himself)

He paddles near one of the rafts, and is pulled up onto it

Firestar calls him a WONDERFUL BOY for bringing the spear

Lionpaw mumbles something enthusiastic around the stick in his mouth, wriggles his butt, and jumps back into the water

Grabbing the net sticking to Ripwater and using it like tree bark, he pulls himself on

Bites the spear by the lug like a handle

And stabs it in like a knife

But it's already starting to pull out, too shallow

Filled with anger and resolve, he bites the shaft, and PUSHES

Harder and harder and harder until there's a crackle, the twine breaks loose, and the lug snaps

The rest of the spear slips in as if Ripwater's made of butter

Figuring that's probably deep enough, he lets go of the net, breaching the surface, sputtering and hacking

He's about to dive again to go get Lakepaw, but to his surprise, she breaks the water next to him

and then he feels the fish bump his paws

His name is called from the shore, and there's Hollypaw and Ripplepaw waving. Ripplepaw TOOK HIS SPEAR'S ROPE. Like a GUY WHO THINKS.

Now there was a team of cats on the shore, all the spent warriors who got thrown off, pulling Ripwater to the shore.

And from the feeling of slimy fish under his paws, it seemed like her fight had been all but spent.

And more cats were swimming to shore now, with the ropes attached to the other spears.

Once on the shore, they're able to discover that, tragically, Blackclaw has died. Mistystar in particular looks deeply torn by this, as their relationship was notoriously toxic. But still, he had been the father of her children, and drowned trying to save a Clanmate. She jumps up onto the massive fish, giving a speech about sacrifice, how Blackclaw and Robinpaw would be honored, and that RiverClan has learned its valuable lesson.

Ripwater was symbolic; it's the greed they had unleashed upon the lake by over-exploiting one resource. From now on, they would be respectful of StarClan's bounty. She thanks ThunderClan for helping to fulfill a prophecy, and offers that their debt be repaid by splitting the meat of the hunt.

Hollypaw, internally: "Oh she's doing that on purpose. She knows ThunderClan hates fish and it would be rude to refuse."

Firestar: "well. how could we refuse."

Sandstorm, quietly, in the distance: "easily actually ew"

CLOSING STUFF

I kinda want some kind of "epilogue festival" where the two Clans legitimately celebrate with a somewhat somber meal sharing. Some of these episodes in Po3 will result in lasting traditions and holidays that are celebrated annually.

At that little "fish festival," it works for Holly to officially break it off with poor Willow, to leave this episode off on a bit of a sad note.

This was one of the first times Lionpaw's power becomes obvious, and it's the sort of thing that wasn't really noticed. I figure it would be good for Lakepaw to ask how that lug snapped, she could barely even get the spearhead in. Lionpaw just brags and says it must be because he's SUPER STRONG.

For some reason he's just making a ton of friends whenever I write these out, I think I'm going to lean into it. Lionpaw's got friends when he's a kid lmao, starts losing them over time as he gets more violent.

It's probably because I really need a comic relief in The Three's dynamic. Hollypaw is very dramatic, Jaypaw is dealing with legitimately stressful social issues, and Lionpaw is violent. Someone has to lighten the mood up a little and it's probably because he's The California Girl himself lmao

At this fish festival he also discovers fish isn't actually that bad. Everyone's being weird about this. It's not really that slimy. It's got a strong taste but that's kinda nice, actually?

Could use some berries but like... "damn why don't we do this more often. this would go great with blackberries."

Ripplepaw: "You think so? I can taste sweetness, can I try to make it at home and tell you how it works out at the next Gathering?"

Lionpaw: "It's not hard, you just mash the berries and stew them in a little water before pouring it over your meat. I learned it from Willowpelt, she's got a mad sweet tooth."

Lakepaw: "No offense Lionpaw, but I always thought you were a total lunkhead. I never thought you'd like, cook?"

Lionpaw: "I mean not really, I'm an awful cook, I can just make simple stuff. Willowpelt's just nice enough to be patient with me, my mentor Ashfur says if I can learn something anyone can, haha."

Just a nice little moment for him.

Blackclaw is being mourned in the mortal plane, but secretly, getting a SCATHING trial up in StarClan. His death was heroic, but his ENTIRE LIFE was treacherous.

From teaching Hawkfrost to follow in his father's pawsteps, to joining him in WindClan's Civil War, and his constant arguing and undermining of Mistyfoot back when she was just a deputy trying to do the right thing.

He goes on trial for a bunch of things he did in TigerClan, too, facing his victims who took his misdeeds to their graves. He's not the only cat in RiverClan who is getting a review like this.

Leopardstar is already in the Dark Forest, and soon, Blackclaw's sent there too.

I decided to kill off Blackclaw here so he could have a VERY cool Land Mar;

(context: all Dark Forest demons now get a cool little evil playset area just for them, where they spawn into after they're thrown out of StarClan. These are called Land Mars)

It's still unnamed, but it's basically an even BIGGER Ripwater. It goes above and below the river and lakes of the Dark Forest, popping up in any body of water big enough to hold her.

#better bones au #Land Mar #Ripwater #BB!Po3 #Better Bones AU #BB!Lakeheart #BB!Willowshine #BB!Hollyleaf #Fallenleaf #Wels Catfish #I NEED to make an art tag for my partner #Gamer-the-kittypet art #THEIR SUGGESTION NOT MINE

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avatar4life · 5 months ago

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A few weeks have passed and the triplets were still learning how to control their dragons better, and especially learning high Valaryan to give better commands to their beast. In their time at king's landing they have gotten close to Rhaenyra as they seemed to like her very much, often searching for her when they couldn't understand a word in high Valaryan, the only trait they got from their father is the issue with learning a new language.

Sometimes they talked with one another about their mother and how they miss her and their home

"ugh! When are we going home? I'm sick of this place" the boy said annoyed as he paces around his chambers

"we still have much to learn, brother, it will take time" the first girl said as she sat by the window "though we can make it for fun" she said with a smirk, intriguing her siblings as they looked at her with interest in their eyes "how about we have some fun with our siblings?" She said and the other two, understanding what she meant, smiling mischievously at the idea. During their stay, they have been pulling pranks and scares on their half-siblings, getting a laugh out at their scared look.

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Reader was in her office, dealing with some paperwork as she set her crown down on the desk and pulled her cloak off, feeling relieved by the weight no longer on her shoulders. A knock came "come" she said looking at the door to see who the visitor was. "Ackley.. it's good to see you again" she said happy to see her old friend, who always harboured love for her but respected her decision to stay alone and helped her raise the triples whenever she was busy ruling her lands or she needed time for herself due to the stress.

"how are you feeling dear Blue?" He asked her as he walked over towards her, looking concerned as always "it is tiresome but I can handle it" she said smiling at him "I meant about your children being away?" He asked her with a soft smile of his own, holding her hand to comfort her "...I miss them. It is weird now that the castle is quiet...but I hope that they're learning well. Though...a mother still wish for her children to be with her even then though it's for they're good that they're away at Westeros" she said smiling and appreciating his comforting presence.

"let's just hope they're not causing too much trouble" he jested as he chuckled at his own joke. Reader laughed too, enjoying the joke "you know them, they will cause trouble. Let's hope not enough to cause issues later" she said to him before going back to the paperwork, getting some help from Ackley.

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The girls were walking around the garderns as they were enjoying their walk, before stumbling upon their younger half-sister. The animosity between them was hight enough to cause tension in the air. Suddenly the half-sister fell inside a lake because she didn't notice a pebble and the girls laughed a little. "Stop laughing! Gods you two are insufferable!" The half-sister said as she stood up and walked away from the lake and from the girls "you got a frog on your dress!" The second girl said as she laughed and walked away to continue her walk., "and leaves on your head!" The first girl said as she followedbher sister.

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All of Jacaerys and Baela's children were in one room complaining to their parents about the triplets

"last night they out a spider in my chambers!"

"they jump scared me when I was training with my dragon!"

"they put jelly in my hair products!"

"they laughed at me!"

Jacaerys and Baela were comforting their children, but Jacaerys was also busy thinking how to confront the triplets without causing more strain in their already distant relationship.

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

After hours of discussion and arguments between Baela and Jacaerys they finally agreed that they'll have to send a raven to reader because they knew that no matter what the children would not listen to than and probably cause more problems to instigate them and their kids.

As they went to sleep, only one thought was in their minds

'let's hope that reader answers fast'

@aemondwhoresworld

#jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd #baela targaryen

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blakeswritingimagines · 1 year ago

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You Broke Me First

Summary: Doing his best to woo you and capture your attention which never seems to work, does Aemond turn to Alys Rivers leading everyone to believe that's his new beloved only to have her work her magic so he can finally have his way.

Word count: 6.8k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

You hummed to yourself as you walked through town feeling like you needed some alone time, which led to the thinking of going to your favorite hidden spot away from almost everything which was a small lake surrounded by tall flowers and grass where you couldn't hear much going on in markets or anywhere the farther you got. Having forgotten all about helping what seemed to be Prince Aemond during the last few days choosing to not think much of it which was exactly the opposite of how the prince was thinking since he couldn't get you out of his mind not knowing how to go about it until he went out looking for you. He had been thinking of nothing else but you. You were like a siren calling to him and drawing him to you. He will find you and claim you for his own. And he will not be gentle.

As Aemond was trying to focus retracing his steps to look for you, he would suddenly see the exact person that he had spent so much time thinking about. He could not believe his eyes as he saw you walking toward an area near a lake. He could not believe that he was lucky enough. Were you thinking about him? It made Aemond nervous, but excited at the same time. Thinking maybe he should go and talk to you. But what would he say? Aemond knew he had been so intrigued by you as he sought you out. He followed from a distance as you made your way to the secret spot. In his mind, he was already picturing spending time with you alone and what the two of you could do together. He watched you walk into the secluded area, taking note of every curve and crevice in your figure. He had to suppress a sly grin from forming across his face as he made his presence known to you. “Is this your secret spot?” he purred. You jumped in surprise at the sudden sound of Aemond's voice. Your heart beating fast, you looked up at the prince as he approached. Your lips parted to speak but a sudden sense of fear overwhelmed you. Instead, you just nodded your head in response. Turning suddenly towards him again speaking delicately. "Why… Yes, it is. How did you know? I wanted to be alone here. It is peaceful and serene. No one bothers me." You spoke with a faint smile on your face, as you looked down at the ground shyly.

Aemond could feel his heart racing as he saw your reaction to his talking to you. He was surprised that you had spoken at all, to be honest. The fact that you hadn't run away was a good sign. Aemond took a moment to look around at the beautiful scenery of the lake, which made him calm down somewhat. "This is a very peaceful and serene spot, that is true. Do you come here often?" Aemond said as he looked back at you. Aemond chuckled as you seemed to show a mixture of surprise, confusion, and embarrassment at him being here and even walking closer toward you. He looked around for a moment, soaking in the scenery. You were right. It was quite peaceful here. No wonder you like this place. He thought he might like it here as well. Aemond turned his attention back to you as your smile caught his attention feeling his heartbeat pick up. "It is quite the beautiful place," he replied. "I came to find out more about you." You tilted your head slightly, with a curious smile on your face. "What do you wish to know about me?" You looked at Aemond shyly, almost in a childlike way. The way you were looking at him made you look adorable and so little making Aemond think you needed him. You seemed to be innocent in your way of thinking. You were not like any other Aemond had seen before.

"I wish to know everything about you," Aemond said matter-of-factly. "But let's start with your name. What is your name?" Aemond did not want to overwhelm you, but at the same time, he wanted to know more about this enchanting commoner in front of him. He had never come across anyone quite like you. This can't be a coincidence. He had been looking for you high and low, and now here you are. You seemed a little overwhelmed when Aemond said that he wished to know everything about you. It took a couple of seconds for your mind to process this information. "Oh, but I'm just a simple commoner, my lord. Why would you want to know anything about a nobody like me?" Your tone was a little playful at the end, as you continued speaking with a smile. Aemond chuckled at your question. He was attracted, fascinated, and yet confused by this commoner. He could not understand why you were trying so hard to make yourself seem so unimportant. You were so beautiful, mysterious, and enchanting to him. You were nothing like the others he was used to talking with. "I want to know everything about you because I am interested in you," he replied. "Does that answer your question? Or have you already lost your train of thought, Commoner?" He said as his words were laced with humor.

You laughed as Aemond teased you. You couldn’t help but be drawn in by his wit and charm but knew better than to actually think something could happen between you both. You looked up at him, your stomach tightening out of embarrassment slightly. "No, my Lord. I have not lost my train of thought. I am just shocked by your interest in me. I am just a commoner, a nobody. The fact that a prince like yourself would care about knowing anything about me is perplexing." You spoke with a slightly shy smile and looked down at the ground again. Just look at you, Aemond thought. I can practically hear your heart beating. "Is it really that shocking?" Aemond asked, hoping you would look up at him again. "You have been all I've thought about ever since we met. There is nothing perplexing about it." Aemond could see the embarrassment in your eyes, but he decided to press a little bit. You seemed shy, but he knew he could get you to crack. "Why are you here by yourself at the moment?"

Looking at Aemond with a slight smile on your face. "Oh, well… I come here because it is calm and tranquil and no one bothers me. I get to sit here alone, by the lake, and relax. No one will come and bother me or judge me here. It is just nice to be alone." Your shyness and sweetness combined made you look even more attractive to Aemond. You must have some reason why you want to be alone, Aemond thought. But he had a feeling that it was much more than what you were telling him. He could see your beauty in the light. It was almost too perfect. "I understand what you mean by being alone," Aemond said, moving a little closer to you. "I find that there is nothing better than being alone in a private and serene place such as this. What if I were to tell you something, and you would have to promise not to tell anyone else." You raised your eyebrows slightly in curiosity. Aemond seemed to be moving closer to you, and speaking quietly, with a slightly mysterious tone to his voice. You couldn’t deny that you were intrigued by what he was about to say. "Okay, what is it, my Lord? I promise, I will not tell anyone else." You spoke quietly, with a faint smile.

Could this beautiful, mysterious commoner actually be interested in me as well? Aemond wondered to himself as he took a deep breath "I came here to find you. You may not have known it, but I have been thinking of you since the day we met, and I was looking for you," Aemond said, as his voice got slightly lower. He looked at you, and could feel his heart beating hard. "I have never been so attracted to anyone in my life, and you are the only one on my mind." Your heart skipped a heartbeat when Aemond stated that he had only been thinking of you since your first meeting. You were speechless for a few moments as you took your time to process this information. As you tried to understand how you were feeling at this moment. A slight smile appeared on your lips, as you spoke. "I… wow." You still seemed to be a little speechless, you still seemed to be processing Aemond's words before slowly nodding your head as you started walking away. Wait a minute. Aemond thought as he watched you walk away. Why are you leaving? Does this mean you are not interested? What did I do wrong? You were leaving without looking back, which meant you were either shy, embarrassed, or truly disinterested. However, Aemond did not want to give up this easily. He followed you a short distance behind and called for your attention. "Hello? Commoner? Where are you going?" He said, as his tone grew slightly more desperate.

"Oh," You suddenly turned to Aemond when you heard him call out your 'name'. You seemed surprised that he wanted your attention. But Aemond's tone also seemed different this time, it sounded more like he wanted to talk to you more or wanted for you to stay. "Um…" you looked down at the ground and sighed. "I was going to go home." You said clearly since you had started thinking there was no point in talking with him anymore. As time continued to pass the prince kept going out of his way to gain your attention and affections from telling you how he viewed you, giving you gifts he figured you would like, to very detailed letters that sent shivers down your spine from how much the well-put-together and normally graceful prince sounded like a crazed animal who wanted to sink his teeth into you, Aemond was becoming more and more frustrated with you as the days passed. He could not figure out why you did not want to speak to him. He had tried everything: being polite, being forceful, being friendly, etc. In the end, nothing had worked. You would always leave.

He was starting to think that maybe you just did not like him, or maybe you were nervous around him for some reason. He did the only thing he could think of and went to a trusted associate. He went to Lady Alys Rivers. As Aemond walked up to Lady Alys' chamber, he thought that maybe she could help him figure out why the commoner was so shy and reluctant. He would tell her everything that he knew about you, in hopes that she could give him information or advice on how to best approach the situation. He stood in front of Lady Alys' chamber and knocked on the door, waiting for her to answer. Lady Rivers opened the door and stepped aside to allow for Aemond's entrance. She had been expecting the prince today, having prepared herself for his arrival. "Please, come inside my prince," she said, gesturing to his seat in front of her. To Alys, Aemond seemed a very handsome young man, even being younger than her, she could easily see why so many people were attracted to him, both men and women. "You are here about a matter, I presume?" She said in a serious tone.

Aemond could tell that Alys wanted to get down to business, and he decided not to waste any time. He sat down in front of her and began speaking, with a serious expression on his face. "Yes, I am here because there is a matter that has me rather perplexed. I have had a meeting with a beautiful and mysterious commoner, who claims to wish to go unnoticed. I find that she does not wish to speak to me, yet her behavior contradicts her words. I am confused and I seek your guidance, my Lady." He looked at her, waiting for her response. "Would you be able to share more about this woman?" Alys asked, trying to get the fullest picture of the situation before giving her advice to her prince. "How did you meet her? What has she done? Has she done nothing besides avoiding your words?" She continued, trying to get a clearer picture of the situation. She seemed quite interested in this woman, who was a commoner of all things.

Aemond was a little surprised that Alys showed this much interest in the commoner. It made him feel that he had made the right choice in seeking her help. He decided to tell her the full story, from their first meeting to her avoiding his words, up until the moment when he came to see Lady Alys. He wanted to be as accurate as possible so that Alys would have all the information necessary to help him understand the situation and figure out what to do next. He hoped that she would be able to provide him with some advice or guidance. Clearing his throat as he took his time to speak "I was at a brothel due to my incel of a brother and she had stopped anything from happening….I've become crazed with the idea of her, taking her, owning her. I need her now." Alys's eyes narrowed, studying the prince carefully for a moment before she spoke. She had not been expecting this story at all, she was under the impression that the commoner had done something to draw the attention of her Prince, not that her Prince had found her near a brothel of all places, this changed the situation a lot.

"And this whore refused to do anything for you?" Alys asked directly, not bothering to mince her words towards the Prince. "You are smitten by this woman?" Alys asked in a curious tone. She could tell from Aemond's words that he was quite taken with you, more than she thought he was. He was clearly enamored with you, despite not knowing anything about you. She looked at him and took a moment to think, before speaking again. "What is her name? I want to know more about this woman." Alys asked. Aemond felt absolutely angry when Alys immediately referred to you as a whore. It seemed a little harsh, even by his standards. He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts but was quick to speak again. "Her name is… I do not know at this time." That was the truth, of course, since you had refused to even tell him your name. "She prefers that I just call her a commoner it seems," Aemond spoke in an irritated tone, knowing Alys would not be pleased with this answer. Aemond was still thinking over the choice of words that Lady Alys used when speaking about you. She had called you a ‘whore.’ Aemond didn’t understand why that word had to be used. It seemed so disrespectful, and he had grown protective of his commoner sweetheart. "No, she didn’t do anything! She wouldn’t even speak to me. She is shy and innocent, like the Maiden herself. I find that fascinating."

"Hmm," Alys said, raising her eyebrow at this turn of events. She found the whole thing quite amusing, but also quite interesting. It seemed like the Prince was truly in love with you, considering how defensive he was of you even without truly knowing you. "So let me get this straight," Alys started, trying to fully grasp the situation. "You met this commoner near a brothel, she helped you not follow through with Prince Aegon's idea so to speak and now you want her for yourself?" She asked. She really hoped that this was not how the situation was, because if it was, she had some bad news for him. "She wouldn't even speak to you?" Alys asked, her confusion only increasing with every new detail. "And yet, you have grown absolutely obsessed with her, for no particular reason." She tried to not sound too judgemental, but at the same time, it was very hard not to. He had grown obsessed with a commoner who he had seen in a brothel and had refused to speak to him, that had to be a new low, even for a Targaryen Prince. Aemond was starting to get a little annoyed by Lady Alys' assumptions. She assumed that he had become obsessed with you purely because you had helped him in a brothel. What she was saying made him sound like he had only a perverted interest in you. He felt the need to clarify this with her. "No, it is not like that. The fact that I met her at a brothel is meaningless to me. I want her for other reasons. And she did not speak to me because… because she is a commoner, and she fears punishment for associating with me."

"And these other reasons are…?" Alys inquired, raising her eyebrow slightly, it was almost too good to be true. She could not believe that the prince really fell for a commoner like you that easily, but, it looked like he was really telling the truth. "If I may ask, what is so special about this commoner?" She did try to keep up a serious disposition while asking, but the question had come out too naturally. Aemond knew perfectly well that what he said next was going to sound ridiculous, especially coming from a royal prince. However, he was tired of keeping his feelings about you locked up. He decided to be completely transparent and honest with Lady Alys, even though he knew that her reaction was going to be filled with disbelief. "She is beautiful. I could not help but be completely mesmerized by her look the moment I saw her. I feel this strong attraction towards her, this overwhelming need to speak to her and become closer to her, despite her refusal to speak to me." Alys's eyes went wide, she could not believe that the prince was being so truthful about his feelings for you. Most of the time, princes never fell for commoners, they always married nobles in order to preserve their royal and noble blood. "I see," Alys responded, trying as much as she could to seem unphased by the situation. "Have you told her this? Have you shown her this 'overwhelming need' that you feel for her?" She asked.

Aemond thought that perhaps Lady Alys would laugh at him or judge him for what he said next. However, he also felt an overwhelming need to be completely honest, which is why he was responding to her question in such a way. He shook his head from side to side, in a 'no' response, as he spoke. "No, I have not. The commoner girl seemed to be too scared. She doesn't trust people at all. I wanted to let her know how I feel somehow, but I don't know how I could do that if she will not even entertain my words." Alys raised her eyebrow at this new information, she had not expected him to say no. "I see," she said again, this time in a way that showed a touch of amusement, "so let me ask you this, my Prince, what do you know about this commoner girl other than what I have just heard here?" She asked, still curious about this whole situation. She could not believe that the Prince had gone to such lengths just because of a pretty face. Aemond thought of his interactions with you. He knew almost nothing about you, which was precisely what made you all the more intriguing to him. The fact that you tried to stay alone and out of the way, made him even more curious about you. It made him want to find out more about you, but that seemed impossible, as he couldn't speak to you at all.

"Well…" He thought for a moment, trying to remember everything he knew about you. "Apart from what I've already mentioned, there is really nothing that I know about her." "Then how can you be so sure she will reciprocate your feelings for her?" Alys asked, still unsure about this whole situation. "What if she simply wants to stay out of your way?" She said, raising her eyebrow ever so slightly, she could not imagine a commoner refusing advances from a Prince so easily. Aemond shrugged his shoulders in a slightly helpless fashion. "I don't think she even has a choice in this matter. I am a Prince, and she is a commoner. Commoners cannot deny the advances of royals. She may not wish to be with me now, she will grow to care for me, just as I do with her. That is how it is meant to be." Alys tilted her head slightly, still trying to understand his logic. She could not believe the Prince would have chosen to think about you in such a way. She saw you as someone beneath him by just virtue of your birth, something that Alys could never truly understand. "And what if she rejects your advances?" She asked, still feeling slightly amused by this. She could only imagine the prince's reaction if this would actually happen, even though she believed the odds of that happening were extremely low.

Aemond nodded his head as he heard Alys out before letting a smirk take place on his lips, shaking his head as he knew that's why he came here but leaned back in his seat crossing one leg over the other "That's where you come in, you'll be helping me make her love me." He spoke with nothing but certainty in his voice since he and everyone else knew of Alys and her use of magic. Alys was surprised to see so much faith and confidence from Aemond regarding you, but she could also not help but feel slightly flattered by his comment. It was true that she was considered the most skilled witch in the Riverlands, and she believed she would be able to help him if you had been blessed by the Old Gods."Very well, my prince. I believe I can help you charm this commoner," Alys said, raising her eyebrow slightly to emphasize her confidence in the situation. Aemond's eyes lit with excitement at the sound of Alys' words. His dream, to at last finally take the commoner as his seemed to finally become a reality. Aemond could not contain his joy, and he started to speak eagerly to Alys, with a wide, relieved smile on his face. "Thank you, my lady. I appreciate all the help that I can get with this situation." Aemond paused and spoke cautiously. "What exactly do you plan to do?"

Alys smirked slightly, seeing the expression on Aemond's face and seeing just how eager he was to have this situation resolved. She did not believe that it was going to be easy to charm a commoner into falling in love with a prince, but she was one of the most powerful witches in the Riverlands, and with the aid of the Old Gods, anything was possible. "You will leave the charm to me, my prince," she said, raising her eyebrow and speaking in a commanding tone. "You must simply provide me with some more information about her, such as her full appearance. I believe our best bet at this point will be to try and use something to help her see you in a different light," Alys said, tapping her chin as she took a moment to consider the situation. This whole thing seemed ridiculous, but she was willing to help the prince with it. "We would need to find a way to give the girl a glimpse of your inner feelings for her," Alys continued. "If she is a faithful woman to the Old Gods she will understand the power of blood magic and the importance of our lineage, I think." Aemond was intrigued by Alys' plan. He had no issues with her using sorcery, as long as it could help him get a chance with you. Aemond began telling all about the girl's appearance, in the most detailed way possible. "Very well, she is very beautiful. My lady. I know that she has beautiful glowing skin and long hair with different shades when the light hits it. Her eyes are beautiful, yet her gaze is soft and enchanting. She is petite, but her curves are like none you've ever seen. I don't think any painting could ever come close to her beauty."

Aemond nodded in understanding what Alys was proposing. He wanted to see the commoner girl so much, that he would do anything to make it possible. He was willing to help however she asked. Alys was one of the best witches in the realm, and he trusted her to get the job done. "I will tell you all that I know about her and about our past meetings, My Lady," Aemond said with a warm, charming tone. "If you succeed, I will be forever indebted to you." He spoke confidently, fully hopeful that Alys would succeed. Alys let out a slight chuckle at the description of the commoner, especially the part about your curves. As far as she knew, Alys had heard very few things about this commoner, and yet the prince spoke of you as if you were a goddess. She wondered what you actually looked like. Alys listened to the prince's words carefully, taking notice of every detail he said, so that she could do her best in the task he proposed to her. She was confident that she could help the prince, she was the best witch in the Riverlands after all, and she would not fail him.

Alys had spent the last few days searching for a spell that might be able to help the prince with his commoner issue, after much thought, she decided to try and use a blood magic spell. According to ancient scrolls, this type of magic allowed a witch to give somebody a glimpse into another person's thoughts, feelings, and desires. This could hopefully show you how Aemond truly felt about you. With this, the witch prepared the spell and found the commoner that the prince had asked her to help him with. She was hoping there would be some positive results out of this. Alys walked outside her chambers, a small smile on her face as she spotted you sitting in a chair not too far from her chamber door. She would have to be completely alone with you for the spell to work, making it even harder to accomplish. "Oh, dear…" Alys said in what she hoped was a calming tone, stepping near you. "My apologies for the sudden appearance, I am Alys Rivers. I was wondering if you would be so kind to let me take a seat?" Alys said, politely asking for your permission. You, who always kept to yourself, heard Alys's voice. You looked up with a startled expression and were slightly startled to see someone approach so close to you. You looked up at Alys with an uneasy expression, but you didn't show any outright signs of disapproval and nodded your head slightly, meaning that you were okay with Alys taking a seat right next to you. You took a moment to process everything that was happening, trying to figure out what Alys wanted and what her intentions were. You were curious, but also slightly suspicious.

"I hope this is not too sudden for you, but the reason I am here today is because I am very interested in you," Alys said, looking you straight in the eyes as she spoke softly. "If I may ask, what is your name?" Alys said, hoping for a response, she needed to know your name if the spell were to be successful. "I only ask because I believe we would be a good match together," Alys said, smiling to try and ease any nerves you might be having. You were a little confused by what was happening. A stranger had approached you and asked if she could sit next to you, and then after a few moments of silence, Alys spoke to you again, saying that she was interested in you. At first, you thought that Alys was referring to herself and that she was flirting with you. With this revelation, all of this became even more confusing. All you wanted to do was to be left alone. "My name is Y/n…" You said with a nervous voice.

"Y/n, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman," Alys said in a calm tone. She was not at all surprised that you had misinterpreted her words, after all, many women felt the same way. But she could not let you continue with this misinterpretation, as it would not benefit anyone. "I meant that you would be perfect for Aemond," Alys explained, looking straight into your eyes. "I have seen how he looks at you, I know how much he wants you. Let me show you…" You listened intently to what Alys had to say. The situation was starting to make a lot more sense now. Still, you were still quite suspicious of this whole thing. You wanted to see how Alys would show you Aemond's feelings towards yourself. You were curious if it would end up matching with what Aemond had described to you. So, you just nodded, not saying much else, waiting for Alys to show you. Alys's eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed in concentration. As a witch, she found the connection between you and Prince Aemond fairly easy to find. "Look there," Alys said, motioning toward your mind. "See how his thoughts about you are all-consuming, he can think of nothing else. He is in love with you and he would do anything for you." Alys said in a calm, gentle tone, hoping you felt some relief hearing about how Aemond truly felt for you.

You were shocked by what you saw in front of your eyes. You were seeing all these visions and thoughts from Aemond, which all indicated that Aemond was feeling something deep and strong for you. This was so overwhelming for you, to see someone feeling like that towards you, that you felt your heart started to race. You never imagined that anyone would think about you that way. Alys's spell was starting to work, and it made you slowly realize what Aemond really meant when he mentioned how he felt for you as you slowly started to feel Alys's spell take over as you started to feel fond for the tall prince. Alys could see that her spell was working, not only were you shocked at the feelings of Aemond, but you were also starting to feel the same too. "See what I mean?" Alys said, smiling at you and giving you a calming look. "Prince Aemond loves you, and he would do anything for you. You and him are perfect for each other." Alys continued, feeling slightly proud of herself for the work she did. "Now come with me, my Prince is waiting for you," Alys said, hoping you would decide to go with her.

As the spell was taking effect on your mind and body, you started to feel things for Aemond that you had never experienced before. You had never thought that you could feel such a strong pull towards a person. You were starting to understand Aemond's sentiments now. You wanted to be with him, to make him happy. Suddenly, you were snapped out of your trance when Alys said that you should follow her and meet Aemond. "Yes, I understand." You responded, feeling extremely overwhelmed. "I'll follow you." It was true, you had now fallen in love with Aemond, and that was more than clear from your eyes. Alys smiled as she saw how her magic was finally working. "Perfect," she said happily, "My Prince will be glad to know that you and him can now be happy together." Alys stood up, extending her arm out to you, "Come, he is just down the hall waiting to see you." Alys offered you one last smile before slowly moving away. You both would have to make your way to Prince Aemond's room in order to meet the Prince, and Alys believed this would not go unnoticed. "Come, my Prince is waiting," Alys said with a slight bow, expecting you to follow her.

You could not hold your joy, feeling that you were close to finally being with your one and only love. When Alys stood up and extended her arm to you, you did not hesitate to accept it. Taking Alys's arm, and standing up, feeling Aemond's presence near now. Suddenly, it felt real. You could see him now. "Yes, I'll come with you." You replied with a bright smile on your face. You were eager to meet Aemond, the man you were in love with. Alys could see the joy in your eyes, and the way your grip on her arm slowly tightened, made her feel somewhat proud of herself. She had not expected you to fall for Aemond this quickly, but then again, the power of love was often stronger than she had initially thought. Alys was glad you had not been afraid to accept her offer. Soon, you both finally made your way to Prince Aemond's room, and Alys turned towards you as she gave you a last reassuring look for a moment as if to say "it is safe to be here." From there, Alys opened the door to the room, motioning for you to step inside.

Taking a deep breath and stepped inside the room, ready to meet Aemond, the man that you loved so dearly. Your heart was beating like crazy. You could hardly believe that this was happening. That you would finally see him again. You looked at Alys with a nervous look, not wanting to disappoint anyone, knowing that Aemond had been wanting you as much as you now wanted him. So, you took your last moments to prepare yourself, putting a smile on your face, to look as beautiful as possible for him. Aemond was looking over some scrolls when the door to the room suddenly opened. He did not pay much attention right away until he saw the beauty walk in. Oh my… He thought to himself the girl that he had been trying to talk to for months was now standing in front of him. You looked absolutely amazing. He could not believe his eyes. Did Lady Alys accomplish her task? Did it all actually work? Aemond was waiting with his breath hitched in his throat when he saw you smile at him. He could see the nervous look on your face, but he was excited just the same. You came here. You actually came here. Aemond turned to you and approached with a small bow, not wanting to waste any time. "Hello," he said to her as he got within speaking distance. "I am so happy that you came. I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

Feeling extremely embarrassed but also extremely happy at the same time. You couldn't help but let out a giggle when he complimented you. Alys's blood magic spell had worked just as she expected it to, and you were starting to believe that maybe you were meant to be with Aemond. But the fact that he was also showing interest in you was making you even more nervous. "You really mean it?" You asked Aemond after a while, feeling a little hesitant to accept this wonderful compliment. Noticing and feeling stunned by how handsome Aemond was. You had never seen anyone that was as charming and handsome as he was. You were taken aback by Aemond's words, feeling as if someone hit you on the head with a baseball bat. You were not expecting this, in your head, you were screaming. This had to be a dream; no way this was real. "Of course I mean it." Aemond stepped closer to you, his eyes taking you in as he observed your beautiful face. He could not believe how lucky he was. He had never met anyone quite like you. You were not like any of the wealthy, noble girls that he had become accustomed to talking with. There was something about you that made him want to be close to you, and you were making it quite easy for him now. Perhaps this isn't a dream after all, he thought to himself.

Aemond smiled at the response. You were starting to warm up to him finally even if it was the magic's work, and that made his heart race. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. You are truly beautiful. "Yes, I mean it," Aemond said in a soft tone, wanting to see you become more flustered. "In fact, I don't think I have ever meant anything more than when I am speaking to you. Let me tell you something. I have never felt this way with anyone before." You got slightly embarrassed when Aemond got closer to you, but also incredibly happy when he spoke to you in such a sweet tone. Feeling as though he could hear your heartbeat going crazy, feeling the blood rush through your veins. This was the moment that you had been looking forward to for months, and it finally happened at last. "I…" You didn't know what to say, just standing there in complete silence, feeling lost in Aemond's charming words and gaze. You had never received so many compliments before, and seeing that the Prince's attention was all on you, you couldn't help but feel your legs becoming weak and dizzy all at once. You couldn't believe that something like this was really happening. You almost felt as if you were in a dream now. "This is incredible," you said, your voice becoming soft. You could not believe your luck in meeting a Prince like Aemond, who treated you with so much respect and admiration. You felt butterflies in your stomach at the thought of speaking with him in such a pleasant manner.

You truly are perfect, Aemond thought to himself. He was still in shock that he had finally gotten to be with you without having to chase after you anymore. He saw how happy you were, and it made him happy as well. I am so lucky to have met her. What would my life be like if I had not met her? He took your hand and stepped closer as he spoke gently "The fact that you are here with me, alone is incredible to me as well." He said the last part in a playful tone. Could it really be this easy? Aemond thought to himself. It was so effortless. After all of his attempts to win your affection, here he was, finally with the girl of his dreams. He had to contain his emotions, and he took a deep breath as he moved even closer to you. "My lady, may I be so bold as to ask you for your hand in marriage" Aemond had you right where he wanted you, and he could not see himself doing anything else but spending every waking moment with you. Hearing Aemond talk about marriage as if it were something normal made your heart beat a little faster. You felt a heat in your belly was burning from embarrassment, but not in a bad way. Instead of feeling afraid or nervous like you felt up until now, you were starting to feel butterflies in your stomach. The idea of marrying the Prince was something that was never considered by you, but now that he had just asked you for your hand in marriage, you suddenly seemed all for it.

You felt incredibly happy to hear Aemond ask for your hand in marriage, feeling that this moment was going to happen to them sooner or later. You smiled widely and then nodded your head, accepting his proposal. "Yes, I will marry you, My Prince." You said in a soft voice, feeling deeply happy. You had always dreamt of this day coming and now, it was finally happening. You couldn't wait for it to finally be true.

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #hotd fanfic #yandere aemond targaryen

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years ago

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{1} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Yes, all 8 of them. Though, there’s a focus on two in particular rn)

Words: 4,238

Warnings: OC gets called a bitch once. Minor Violence. Minor blood and injuries mentioned. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Here it is!! Chapter one to the start of that dragon series I was talking about a while ago!! I just got so inspired to start it tonight that I couldn’t contain my excitement. I have a lot planned for this series, but I’m not entirely sure when updates will be for this series, or how frequent they will be. Also, a friendly reminder that I do not do tag lists. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Mini Masterlist

The light of the setting sun casts warm hues of orange and red across the sky, darkness beginning to creep along the edges. A gentle breeze flits through, cooling the air as the leaves rustle all around, the mountains standing ominously in the distance. Faintly, the buzzing of beetles can be heard all around, birds chirping as they begin to sing their evening lullabies to their young, flitting between the branches above.

You let out a soft sigh, adjusting the basket held against your one hip.

Collecting herbs from the forest is no easy feat, especially when the marketplace isn’t as kind to trading items with you as of late. Everyone is tense, given the rise in sightings of the eight Hala dragons in the area. Sightings of which seem to be getting more frequent every day.

It’s only a matter of time before one or more of them finally raid your own village, plundering whatever they can in their quest for the crown. A crown of which is being fought for by the two main dragon clans of the realm. One of which being the Hala dragons, and the other being the Wolf Gang.

A puff of laughter escapes you as you think about the Wolf Gang now. How ironic for dragons to be named after wolves. They certainly act worse than them at times. At least, from what you’ve heard. They definitely give the hunters a hell of a time every encounter they have.

What a joke those hunters are. The ones in your village couldn’t hit the wide side of a lake with their horrible aim, let alone spot a dragon hiding amongst their midst. Though, you suppose they’re more for show at this point than anything.

So much for your protection.

There’s also been rumours floating around lately about a cloaked figure spotted around town. You’ve heard whispers of this supposed Shadow Demon lurking in the dark, but they don’t worry you so much.

You’ve been on your own long enough to know how to take care of yourself. Besides, your father would kill you if you let anything bad happen to yourself, especially after everything he’s done to ensure your protection. You just need to be on the lookout for golden eyes staring at you through the dark. At least, that’s what the townsfolk have been warning you about.

Approaching the edge of the village, you let out another sigh. The side of the basket you have pressed against your hip digs into your skin, and you honestly cannot wait to get home for the evening. Tonight will be the first night in a week where you can just finally relax. No interruptions, just you and the final chapters of that book you’ve been attempting to finish.

Rounding the corner of one of the buildings, you notice most of the vendors packing up their stalls for the evening. The light from the setting sun is fading quickly, and most people know not to stay out passed dark. Not now, especially with the Hala dragons so close to home.

At least you can count on one person to always exchange goods with you, no matter how late it gets.

“Find anything good today?” Renjun quirks a brow as he lifts his head to meet your gaze. He had just been packing up the last bits of his supplies into his small wagon to take back home when he saw you approaching out of the corner of his eyes.

“Would you believe that the bloodroot I had found the other day is nearly all gone?” You place your basket on top of the wooden slab he has set up as a table across two wooden barrels. “I swear, someone else has been foraging in my backyard.”

His eyes flash in understanding as he walks over to the other side of the table. “Or it’s the wildlife taking over again.”

“Could be,” you hum, watching as he picks up a few stems from your basket.

Renjun runs his fingers over the herbs delicately before nodding to himself. “You always manage to pick the finest ones.”

“It’s a gift.” You acknowledge knowingly, watching as he places the herbs back into your basket. “So, what have you got for me today.”

“Well, Harold swore he heard growling coming from the opposite side of the fjord last night. Claimed it to be the Hala’s and Wolves fighting again.” Renjun remarks casually. “A storm is supposed to roll in overnight and into the morning, Mark says he can sense it in his bones.”

“Did he say what kind of storm?” Your eyes follow Renjun as he pulls a separate basket back off of his cart, full of fruits and vegetables.

The heavy sound of the basket hitting the table greets your ears. “A big one. That’s all.”

You nod. “I see.”

“I would be careful, if I were you,” he continues, pushing the basket towards you. “Get home quickly before dark, lest you want another incident to occur.”

The knowing look he sends you has you chuckling lightly.

“Whatever do you mean, Junnie?” The smile you send him is nothing short of innocent as you trade off baskets for the evening.

“Information is never free, Jewel,” his eyes flash. “You know this.”

“Don’t call me that.” You snap, your demeanour changing in an instant before that calm smile is back on your face. “Well, like you said, I better get home. It is getting late.”

Renjun’s lips tighten into a thin line, silently dragging the basket with the herbs you’ve collected towards himself. “Be safe.”

“I always am,” the words fall almost like second nature from your lips as you begin to trek away from his stand for the evening.

The basket of produce takes the place of the basket of herbs, your one arm wrapped securely around the wicker as you walk down the dirt path, and down the familiar road towards your little cottage on the side of town. Before you get home, however, you make sure to stop by the little fountain at the centre of town, leaving some apples for the children that gather there and ushering them home. The smiles you receive are worth it every time.

You still have one more stop to make before you can settle in for the evening, and you curse yourself for it nearly slipping your mind. Already, darkness blankets the sky, the stars beginning to twinkle above your head as the chill of the night settles over the land.

A shiver caresses your spine, and you know that you must hurry. Something is not quite right, and you do not want to be out when the inevitable happens.

That’s when you hear it. The unmistakable boom of the flapping of heavy wings.

A roar sounds in the distance, the first of the terrified screams reaching your ears as the alarm bells are rung. The constant clanging of the hammers on metal ring through your ears as you enter into the closest building that you can, which just so happens to be one of the many mess halls. A building you had been attempting to reach before this chaos started.

Nothing but darkness surrounds you, the lamps that usually illuminate the area already burnt or blown out.

Odd, considering you know Amy should have been the only one here during this time. She never misses your deliveries, especially not when she knows you’re trading with Renjun for the day. Then again, she did say her sister was supposed to be taking over for a few days. Who knows what Angela has done to the place.

“Amy?” You whisper, hoping she may be just hiding somewhere amongst the commotion happening outside. You can faintly hear the screams of the villagers, the roars becoming louder and more frequent as shouts of the hunters reach your ears. “Angela, are you there?”

You take a step forward, blinking despite the darkness surrounding you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you swear you see a shadow move.

“Is anyone here?” Your voice is small, so as not to alert anyone to attack you in case they think you are an enemy of some sort.

A floorboard creaks behind you.

“Hello?” You whip around, sure you’ll be coming face to face with one of the girls behind you.

Only, when you turn around, no one is there.

That’s when you feel it. The unmistakable press of claws at your throat.

You drop your basket of produce.

The moment your lips part and a choked gasp is escaping you, the claws at your throat begin to dig into your flesh. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to serve as a warning.

“Scream, and I’ll tear your throat out in an instant,” the voice is low, and unmistakably male as his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You begin to shake, whole body trembling as you feel his body heat beginning to radiate against your back.

“Please,” you keep your own tone steady, reasoning with the dragon in human form who stands behind you at this very moment. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, I don’t, do I?” He chuckles, clearly amused by your choice of words. “And why wouldn’t I want to do this?”

“Because,” you exhale a low breath, closing your eyes only briefly before they’re flashing open, glinting in the dark. In the next second, you’ve pulled out your hidden dagger, flipping your positions so that you’re now pinning the dragon to the wall, blade pressing into his throat. His skin begins to hiss beneath where the knife makes contact. “Touch me again, and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

The arm you have pressed against his chest is firm, and the shock is clear on his face. Those dark brown eyes flash a golden amber in the dark, a snarl tugging at his lips as he scowls at you.

“Ah-ah,” you tut, pressing the blade firmer into his skin as you see his fingers twitching, claws still on full display at his sides. “One small nick from this, and you’ll be dead in minutes.”

A growl is all you receive in response.

You tut, shaking your head. “And you made me drop all of my produce, too.”

“I think you have more important things to be worrying about,” he replies, swallowing a bit thickly as his skin burns beneath the blade you still have pressed against his throat.

“Do I, now?” You quirk a brow. “You overgrown reptiles usually travel in packs, yet you seem to be all alone. Why?”

“I don’t have to answer to you.” He spits, pressing himself further against the wall you have him pinned to.

“No,” you hum. “I suppose not.”

“You stupid hunters and your stupid-“

Your nostrils flare, “don’t you ever dare compare me to the likes of them again.”

“What? Don’t like being called out for the scum you are?” He nearly scoffs. “You’re the worst of the worst, huntress.”

“Still good enough to pin you,” you counter.

Fine. If this bastard wants to believe you’re one of those good for nothing hunters, let him. You’re in control here, anyways.

In a flash, he’s swatted your dagger away, switching your positions so you’re now the one pinned to the wall with his claws back at you’re throat.

“Who’s pinning who now, huntress?” He grins maniacally, digging his nails that much firmer into your neck.

This time, it’s your turn to scowl, gritting your teeth in frustration as a smug look washes over his features.

“You know, I would have believed you more if you had started pleading for your life the moment you got caught,” he tilts his head almost mockingly at you. “I might have let you go, then.”

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes, grabbing his wrist in your one hand as you move to knee him in the groin.

The moment he hunches over in pain, you’re swiping his feet out from under him. A second later, and you’ve rolled across the floor. Grabbing your dagger once more in your hand, you have him pinned beneath you with your blade at his throat yet again.

“I thought you’d kill me if I touched you again?” His voice comes out a bit strained, chest heaving as his skin hisses beneath your dagger.

“Answer my original question and I might let you live.” You turn his own words back on him.

His brow twitches slightly in amusement. “You’re a bold one, aren’t you? Taking on a Hala dragon like this?”

“A Hala dragon? Where?” This time, it’s your turn to tilt your head almost mockingly at him in response. “All I see is a little boy meddling in affairs he has no business getting into.”

The snarl he releases is nothing short of feral as his eyes flash at you once more, pupils narrowing into slits as he absolutely glares at you.

“Real charmer, aren’t you, huntress?” He manages to get out through gritted teeth, his jaw twitching in tandem.

“Overgrown lizards that talk a big talk are more often than not compensating for something, sweetheart,” you hum mockingly, a malicious grin tugging at your lips.

“You’re fucking annoying, you know that?” He hisses, wiggling slightly beneath your hold as he attempts to free himself to no avail.

“I’ve been called worse,” you shrug, nonchalantly. “Now, answer my question.”

The man remains quiet only for a moment longer as he seems to be contemplating whether or not he actually wants to respond to you. At the way he lets out a long exhale through his nose, you believe he’s chosen wisely.

“I’m not alone, we just each took a different corner of town,” he responds. “Our youngest was adamant about retrieving someone by himself while we gathered supplies.”

“Why our village?” You press.

“It was the next on our stop.” He replies. “Plus, the only town that our youngest seemed to care about.”

Your mind begins reeling. “He imprint or something?”

“You seem to know a lot about us for someone who’s not a hunter.” He counters.

“Just answer the damn question, you overgrown lizard.” You shift the blade slightly over his neck, noticing how his eyes dart down towards it nervously in the next second.

“You could say that.” He mumbles.

“Who?” You seethe, your need to protect the town and its inhabitants skyrocketing as his words settle over you.

“What’s it to you?” His eyes narrow.

“Watch it, or my hand might just slip,” you threaten, tightening your hold over him as your body rests over his own for the time being.

Again, his eyes dart down to the blade pressed against his throat, skin bright red and irritated beneath the metal.

“I don’t know her name.” He voices lowly.

Your brow quirks, tilting your head at him in disbelief.

“I swear I don’t!” He’s quick to add. “I don’t even know what she looks like. He’s been adamant on us not interfering with her since they met. I don’t even think she knows who he is, or what he is. He’s the only one of us that can actually hide it well.”

“Oh?” The corner of your lips twitch upwards. “Thanks for the information, you sure have a lot to give.”

He scowls briefly, before he manages to steel his features. “You sure are confident I’m not feeding you false information.”

“You sure do like hearing yourself talk, don’t you?” You huff out a dry laugh.

“You sure have a lot of confidence for a human.” He counters, fangs glinting beneath the light of the moon.

“Human, huh?” You smirk, nodding subtly along with his words. Then, your gaze is sharpening, eyes narrowing as you lean in as close as you dare to his face to whisper lowly in his ear. “Get the hell out of my village and never come back. Take your little friends with you, too.”

In the blink of an eye, you’ve stood off of him, fixing your cloak which had gotten dishevelled in your tussle with him on the floor. A second later, and your back is to him as you walk towards the door, stepping over your discarded produce without another thought.

“If I ever see you here again,” you spare a glance at him from over your shoulder as you watch him stand back to his feet. “I won’t be so kind.”

Just as you go to reach for the door handle, you sense him moving behind you. You manage to duck just in time to avoid the swipe of his claws aimed at your head, hearing the scraping of them against the wood of the door as splinters rains down above you.

Your body moves instantly, the steps almost second nature as you spin around, brandishing your dagger on the offensive. Two moves later, and you’ve sliced a deep gash across the side of his ribs, hearing how his breathing immediately becomes laboured as he drops to his knees.

“You bitch,” he seethes, glaring up at you as he desperately holds onto his bleeding side, attempting to stunt the flow of blood in any way he can.

“I warned you,” you sheathe your dagger, backing away from him slowly. “You’ve got minutes little boy. I hope your friends are close by.”

Without another word, you’re escaping into the night, blending into the chaos that greets you outside of the door.

A scowl rests on his features as he collapses to the floor, voice desperately calling out to his brothers in his mind for aid. The last thing he sees before his vision begins going black at the edges is the flow of your cloak as you fade into the crowd.

Not even five minutes later, and you’re bursting through the front door to your little cottage, slamming the wood shut behind you. Your breathing comes in jagged pants as you attempt to catch your breath, eyes darting around the area to make sure no one has broken in in the panic still occurring outside of your house.

That’s when you sense another presence with you.

Slowly, you begin creeping towards the back of your house, pulling out your dagger once more.

“Hello?” You call out, voice shaking as your eyes dart around the room, attempting to find the presence lingering at the edge of your senses. “Who’s there?”

Reaching your kitchen, you notice the backdoor has been left wide open. Carefully, you creep over and close the door, blocking off the exit for whoever decided to invade your home during this time. They’re not leaving here alive, that’s for sure.

A thud coming from behind you catches your attention, a low curse escaping whoever it is in the next second.

Your brow furrows. “Jongho? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he replies, though his voice sounds a bit strained.

A minute later, and after hiding your dagger once more, you’ve managed to light an oil lamp. The light allows you to now see him rubbing the side of his hip as his face is contorted in a grimace of pain.

“What are you doing here?” Your brow furrows, walking over to check on him almost immediately.

“I came to check on you.” His reply is instant, almost forgetting about his injury as you come to stand before him. His hands find purchase on your arms as his worried filled gaze flits over every inch of your torso. “As soon as I heard the alarm sound, I came running.”

The way his nostrils flare as he pulls you the slightest bit closer does not go unnoticed by you. If you didn’t know any better, he almost looks annoyed for a second before that concern is taking over his features once more.

“I’m fine.” You reply, shrugging his grip off of you and taking a step away from him. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be better once we get out of here,” he says, reaching for you again. Only, the way you avoid his grip has his brow furrowing. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Why?” You tilt your head almost innocently at him. “You know I’m safe here. It already sounds like the worst of it is over.”

“You don’t know that.” He grimaces slightly.

“And you do?” You raise a brow questioningly at him. “I get you’re worried for me, but really, I can take care of myself. I have been for a long time. Even before I met you.”

You swear you hear a low growl on the wind.

He takes a step closer, managing to grab your hand lightly in his own this time.

“If you let me, you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore,” Jongho’s voice is low, nothing more than a mere rumble as he brushes his thumb tenderly over the back of your hand.

“Jongho, you sure are acting strange tonight.” You reply, somewhat warily. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I-“

Before you have time to react, you sense three more presences rushing towards your back door. Instantly, Jongho has pulled you into his arms as the wood flies off its hinges, three males rushing into your kitchen. One of whom you recognize.

“I’m sorry, we couldn’t wait any longer.” The gruff voice of a male with bright yellow hair, the tips a vibrant red, reaches your ears as he supports another familiar male between himself and another male with chestnut hair that’s shorter in the front, but longer in the back.

“I told you not to interrupt.” Jongho seethes, pressing you firmer into his side as he holds you to him protectively.

Two more males follow behind, one holding bloodroot in his hands while the other carries some honeysuckle. Each wear worried expressions on their faces, watching as the first two males lift the one held between them onto your counter.

The flapping of wings can be heard outside before two more males are rushing into your house a moment later.

Thunder booms overheard, rain beginning to dance across your rooftop.

Your heart pounds within your chest as your eyes widen at the eight males now having invaded your home. In an instant, you elbow Jongho in the chest, slipping out of his arms as you draw your dagger in front of you for protection once more.

“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my house?” Your eyes dart between each male, making sure to now keep your distance from Jongho all the while.

“Did you not tell her yet?” One of the males with sharp eyes, and what appears to be a birthmark beside his left eye, turns his gaze towards Jongho, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I didn’t get a chance to before you all came bursting in.” Jongho’s eyes narrow in response, jaw clenched in annoyance. “I told you to wait.”

“We can’t get the bleeding to stop.” The one holding the honeysuckle says, placing some in his mouth to begin chewing the plant into a paste to apply to the wound.

“He’d fading,” the other holding the bloodroot adds. “Fast.”

“We remembered you saying something about her being good with herbs and tonics.” The one with the longer chestnut hair says, eyes briefly darting towards you.

A strained cough is heard from the male on top of your counter. “Oh, she’s good alright.”

All heads are turning towards the male as his chest heaves with every breath. A sheen of sweat lines every free inch of his skin, his flesh getting paler and paler with each passing second.

“Hello, huntress.” The male grins, gaze meeting yours for only a second before he becomes too weak to continue holding his head up.

All heads now turn towards you.

“You did this to him?” The tallest one standing off to the side says this, voice both a little incredulous and accusatory.

“So, that’s why you smelt like him,” Jongho mumbles, a furrow to his brow.

Your eyes widen with an unrivalled fury as you round on Jongho, the injured male’s words from earlier about their youngest ringing through your ears.

“You’ve been lying to me.” You keep your tone low, grip tightening on the blade still held in your hand.

Lightning flashes, thunder crashing above.

“I know you’re probably scared right now-“

“Scared?” You cut Jongho off. “Oh, no. I’m furious.”

“Listen, you can have your little lovers spat later,” the one with the bright locks akin to a flame cuts in. “Seonghwa is dying and we need you to heal him.”

“Who said I was going to help you?” You huff out a breath, straightening slightly in your spot.

Seven low growls reach your ears, and you almost let a threatening one of your own slip passed your lips.

“Who said you had a choice?” The one with the birthmark quirks a brow, turning his piercing gaze towards you.

This time, you cannot contain the way your eyes flash at all of them in response, the golden hue lighting up the room along with the next spark of lighting.

A sharp inhale is heard from all of them, shoulders tensing as you mentally curse yourself for losing control, even if only for a brief moment.

Jongho’s lips curl over his teeth. “Looks like I’m not the only one who has been keeping secrets.”

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hazelchooseme · 1 year ago

Text

How to train your dragon | Hazel Callahan

AU set in the world of How to Train Your Dragon.

English is not my first language.

Song recommendation: 1950 by King Princess.

Enjoy 🐉

"Whether you like it or not, at some point we are going to have to leave." You said looking down at your dragon.

Magna was a beautiful Night Light, she had black fur covered with white spots, a large white spot around her left eye making her green eyes stand out. She grunted while still lying on her back in the grass. You sighed as you sat next to her.

You looked around observing the stone walls that your dragon refused to climb since she was too busy resting. You couldn't complain though, the vines hugging the walls, the small lake in the center sparkling with the sun, the silence, everything was relaxing and perfect.

A monstrous belly sound brought you out of your trance. You and Magna made eye contact.

"That wasn't me, buddy" With what seemed like an embarrassed smile she began to roll on the floor with no intention of standing up. "C'mon" You clapped your hands as you stood up to grab her paw, trying to make her stop but failing. "Magnaaaa, help with something ball of scales!" You rested your entire body on the corner of her right abdomen, now trying to turn her over. It was enough for her to move a little and you would end up eating dirt. And so she did. You raised your head, spitting out the grass that entered your mouth. "Thank you for nothing, mutant fish. I should have adopted a male." Magna's laugh/grunt brought a smile to your face. As you stood up cleaning the dirt from your clothes you heard another laugh, a human one.

Turning around you could see that it was no one else but Hazel. Fantastic. She saw you being humiliated by the animal.

Hazel was on top of some rocks riding her dragon Heimdall, a gorgeous Hobblegrunt, who now looked yellow showing his happiness.

"Need some help?" She asked with a mocking smile as she landed with Heimdall next to you and got off.

"Hi, Hazel!" You responded with a voice that was high-pitched with nerves."No thanks, we're pretty busy here."

She turned to see how Magna was still rolling on the floor. "Are you sure?"

"Yes... Because she is really focused right now, so if you don't mind—" Before you could finish speaking Magna jumped up and ran straight to Heimdall who was drinking water. That was it, you were going to give her up for adoption as soon as you arrived in the village.

"You need something?" You asked before there was an awkward silence.

"Aaah, right. Emmm.... PJ was looking for you"

"Why? Did something happen to her?" PJ was your best friend and although you loved her very much, she used to do pretty stupid things.

"I don't know, no one could find you so I went looking for you."

"Aaah"

Should you thank? Was it a good thing that she had come to look for you? Did they force her? Is she hating you right now for wasting her precious time on a Sunday afternoon? It wasn't your fault, Magna was the one who wanted to go exploring and since she didn't dare go alone you accompanied her. You never thought that the lazy dragon was going to get tired and rest for hours in the pit of the world. Shit, you were so hungry.

"Are you, like, dating?" Hazel asked suddenly.

"What? Who?"

"You and..." She looked anxious as she spoke. "You and PJ"

"What?! Nonono, she's like my twin, like if I had a stupid sister it would definitly be PJ. You know, like, same blood. Her and I dating. Incest." You spat hastily, wanting to make it clear to her.

"Well, that's a relief then."

"What? Wh—"

"What happened to your arm?" Hazel asked, completely changing the topic, worriedly as she approached, taking off her helmet. Her brown waves bounced off her forehead making her eyes look bluer than they were. You noticed that in this light her eyes looked brighter than when the light of a campfire shined on her, you noted that fact mentally.

You were brought out of your thoughts when Hazel grabbed your arm, you jumped away, trying not to make the move too obvious you started looking at your arm that was bleeding at the elbow and mumbling.

"I probably scratched myself on Magna’s mount when I fell,” you laughed a little, another scratch to remember.

"It looks bad, we need to clean it."

"We?"

Taking your good elbow she guided you towards the lake. Once on the shore she made you kneel, taking a piece of cloth out of one of her pockets and sinking it in the water. Sitting there together you were able to observe her better, her somewhat messy hair that moved slowly with the wind, her frowning brow, her lips pressed together in concentration, on her leather pants you could see some yellow scales that Heimdall must have dropped on the trip, she had grass stuck in the seams of her leather jacket. You honestly wondered if it would be too rude to clean it up for her. The sound of a splash made you turn to look at the lake where both dragons were playing.

"This is not the most hygienic but it will do" Hazel said looking at you with a smile, then with a nod of her head she silently asked you for your elbow. She began to clean carefully, her fingers moved gently over your skin, every few seconds she looked up to give you a tiny smile. Was it your idea or were his hands shaking a little? Or was it you? When your eyes met again, neither of you looked away.

"Hazel?"

"Yes?"

When she made the move to get a little closer she accidentally pressed the cloth on your wound making you hiss in pain. In less than a second your dragon was between you and Hazel. Magna began to growl threateningly at the blue-eyed, causing Heimdall to also become overprotective of his owner. In the blink of an eye both dragons were in attack position.

"Hey, hey! Magna is okay, I'm fine" Standing in front of her you grabbed her by the snout so she could look at you. "She's my friend, I like her, okay? Nothing bad happened, calm down" You began to caress between her eyes, knowing that it would calm her down . You could hear Hazel doing the same thing. After a few minutes both dragons calmed down noticeably. Looking over your shoulder you turned to see Hazel, watching as she rested her forehead on Heimdall's head. When she noticed your gaze she smiled at you.

"We better go"

Nodding your head you climbed onto Magna. Following Heimdall and Hazel you began to fly.

Up here in the clouds with Magna you felt like you could do anything, you could travel every corner of the planet and more. The blow of the wind, the cold, the altitude, everything felt right. Looking to your right you saw Hazel beautiful blue eyes, she was the most beautiful while she was flying, or when she was walking, or when she smiled at you that way. Her hair moving in the wind made you notice that she didn't have her helmet, your stomach twisted, maybe this was your chance.

"How about a race?" Before you could answer, Heimdall began to fly faster, losing him in the clouds. Magna moved excitedly, waiting for you to give her the order.

"Come on, show them what you're made of."

Without thinking for a second, Magna launched herself after the Hobblegrunt.

When you reached them, Magna began to fly in circles around them, then dive to the ground and almost instantly propel herself upwards, surpassing them. She was showing off just like you taught her.

"That's my girl!" You shouted in celebration.

"Nice" Hazel was flying upside down. Among the clouds her blue eyes took on a more grayish tone, you also noted that mentally. She was so close that because of the speed her hair hit your face, if you leaned down you could kiss her forehead. "But not so fast" Saying that she disappeared again.

You sighed. "I'm screwed"

After what seemed like hours of flying and chasing each other you decided to return to the village.

"I'm fucking hungry" You complained as soon as you landed. You turned to check on Hazel but you couldn't help but laugh at her messy hair.

"What?" She asked as if she didn't know what was happening.

"Nothing" You managed to articulate between laughs.

"What? My hair is funny?" She questioned you as she got dangerously close. "It's very messy, does that make you laugh? Let me fix yours." Without anticipation she launched herself at you, her hands ruffling your mop of hair while you laughed and tried to get rid of her. "C'mon baby, let's match"

"Get off of me" You said laughing.

Slowly sliding her hands through your hair she took a step back and walked away.

"Today was fun" She said with a smile "Thank you"

"Thank you for looking for me" You could see in her eyes the internal debate of whether to stay or go so you decided this was the time. "I have something to give you"

You walked towards your house laughing with both dragons following you.

Once you were at home, you went to your room to look for the gift while Hazel waited in the living room. With the box in your hand and trembling with nerves, you cheered yourself up.

"Come on, you just flew through the clouds, this is nothing" But it was all. Hazel was everything. You were pretty sure you loved her, a long time ago. And today she tried to kiss you, you weren't crazy, it had to mean something.

"Here" You handed her the brown box which she immediately began to unpack. "It's...Ummm Consider it a belated birthday present... 3 months late" You were already regretting it.

"Oh my god" Hazel took a helmet out of the box, you had decorated it with metal-tipped studs, which you knew she liked so much. Although the top was black both sides had Heimdall drawing and hand painting by you, the glasses were automatically retroactive if she pressed a button on the back.

When you noticed that she didn't react or say anything, you started to ramble. "I drew Heimdall yellow because I know he's happy to have you. Emmm... Maybe it doesn't combine with he's mount, but I can make you a new one... You know, this is what I do" You laughed uncomfortably. But you still didn't get a response. "Hazel?"

She slowly began to move the helmet between her hands. "It's... It's beautiful, I... I have no idea what to do or say"

"Nothing! You don't have to do or say anything, it's just a gift"

"It's not just a gift" She looked up at you, you had never seen her so serious. "This is the most precious thing for me from now on"

You swallowed hard, unable to break eye contact.

"I'm glad you liked it" You blurted out stupidly.

"I better go" She said as she walked towards the door, before opening it she turned again. "Thank you so much"

When the door closed you were able to breathe normally again but your heart did not stop beating strongly.

"That was—" But before you could finish the door opened again with a loud bang.

Hazel came back in, this time she walked straight towards you. When she arrived in front of you she began to open and close her mouth, searching for the right words. . "I'm not good with words but... I know you feel the same way I do, tell me I haven't misinterpreted everything, please" Nothing else was necessary, you knew perfectly well what she was referring to.

"Yes, I do, I-I feel the same"

Without saying anything else she grabbed you by the waist and brought you closer. Her hand rested on your cheek, she didn't have to ask, you just nodded in response. The first touch of lips was calm, just enjoying the moment, you could notice her soft lips, almost as if they were made of silk. You don't remember if it was you or her but someone started kissing harder. You remembered the moment at the lake, the way she touched you so delicately, here it was the complete opposite. She slid her hand behind your neck in a way that made your entire body tingle with excitement, desire. Her other hand was still resting on your waist, grabbing the fabric of your shirt as if she wanted to tear it off. Your hands were tangled in her hair, pulling from time to time causing a sound in her that you never wanted to forget. While her lips continued exploring yours, her tongue ran over your lower lip, you opened your lips slowly allowing her to lick the corner of your lips. The electricity that felt all over your body reminded you of the feeling of flying over the clouds, exciting and at the same time reassuring, as if you belonged there, on each other's lips. Your hands stopped on her chest, feeling how hard her heart was beating. Sucking the tip of her tongue you slid your hand inside her shirt, her moan sent shivers down your spine. The kiss began to calm down, ending with Hazel placing small kisses on your lips and then on your nose and then all over your face. She kissed your neck and then leaned on you.

"I was dying to do that." She laughed.

Still with your hands shaking you explored her back feeling her chills. "We have a lot to talk" Just at that moment, both Magna and Heimdall ran into the place, throwing you on the floor and licking you as if they knew what had just happened.

As you tried to get Magna off you, you were grateful to have such a lazy dragon.

#hazel callahan #ruby cruz #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel x reader #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #bottoms movie

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nothanksehh · 8 months ago

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The Rooms - A 5 Part Series

Hi all! I have been wanting to do more writing lately and I got an idea for a short series of absolute smut. Hardly any plot. Many big o's. These pairings are with my four favorites from my favorite books, these groups answer the question, "If you could put four people in a room and do whatever you wanted with them who would you pick?"

A Trial of Lust- Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Lucien X Reader

You find yourself wandering the streets of Velaris at night on your way to Rita’s. You never expected to run into the inner circle, let alone find them on their free night.

A Banquet of Lakes- Rowan, Dorian, Manon, Fenrys X Reader

It's a beautiful time of year in Terrasin, you can't help but want to find a lake to take a swim in. It becomes an even more beautiful day when you are found by those who want to picnic near your lake.

A Game of Kings- Ruhn, Ithan, Aidas, Tharion X Reader

Playing card games in small towns has always made you happy. When a card game goes wrong, what will you do to distract your opponents?

A Lesson in Riding- Xaden, Sawyer, Liam, Dain X Reader

You had always heard that Dragon Riders know how to ride well. You couldn't help but want to venture out of the Healers Quadrant and experience it for yourself.

A Taste of Obedience- Casteel, Kieran, Delano, Reaver X Reader

You knew that being good was something you were not good at. One day your friends decide they have finally had enough and decide to give you a taste of the good life.

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melancholysway · 29 days ago

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Serendipity (2007!Raphael x Fem!Reader) 10

Chapter X: Home

I can cry yall I'm so sad this is ending LMAO

--------

"Jesus Mikey, in my ear?!" The red-banded turtle scolds his little brother for yelling (once again) about the road trip to Casey's grandmother's farmhouse.

This was a sacred trip, filled with family bonding and alone time together. It was a trip of serenity and calmness that was unmatched by living in the city. Upstate New York was indeed an experience to remember. Northampton was a quiet place, with the population barely reaching 2,500 citizens. So, yeah, the turtles (and Splinter) loved going up there. There were no sewers, Purple Dragons, or Foot Ninjas. They were able to…exist.

You were lucky enough to be tagging along; you were on spring break, and you needed this well-deserved week-long vacation. You weren't sure what the guys usually did when they went upstate, but it had to be relaxing.

"What are we doing first, dud- ow!" Mikey asks from the backseat, earning another glare and smack from his older brother.

"I mean," Leo begins, "Get settled in, the usual. Relax, swim-" "Train." Master Splinter interrupts, earning a groan from Mikey.

"Sensei! It's vacation!"

"Very true; however, the Foot will not take what you kids call a 'vacay,' correct?"

Okay, so train. How…exciting. How fun to train…on your whole free week of no ninja-ing.

"Woo-hoo." Donnie cheers flatly.

"Yay." Raph follows suit.

Leo can hear his younger brothers' fake enthusiasm, and he can't help but chuckle.

"Can't wait ta train on my week off, Masta Splintah," Raph says, earning a snicker from Donnie.

The drive was a good one. It was your first time in the ShellRaiser, and Donnie spent half an hour giving you a tour and showing you all the remarkable modifications and weapons he attached to it. You were driving around in a military-grade vehicle.

Let's move on to more exciting matters, like your relationship.

It was great. What more could you ask for? You got the turtle (who you didn't know was a turtle in the beginning) that you wanted.

So it's no surprise that Raph asked if you wanted to come on this trip. Besides, he knew you needed a break. It also wasn't a surprise that his brothers, especially Mikey, were excited for you to join.

---

"Dudette! We can finally hang out outdoors in the daylight! I can, like…get a tan!" Mikey almost jumped out of his shell when he heard the news. After a quick thought, you were in. You'd already planned on Jade checking up on Stella that week and leaving her a few 20s for the deed (though she strongly disagreed with you paying her, seeing Stella was enough payment.)

So it was settled: You would be going for an entire week. Unsure of what to pack, you jumped off what April told you she usually brings on the trip: the basics: clothes, toiletries, a first-aid kit just in case, and herself (obviously).

Mikey was going to be attempting to get a tan. So, you had something to look forward to seeing the result of.

---

Due to the long trip, you utilized Raph's shoulder and slept for the last part of the ride. It wasn't until you felt a flick on your nose that awoke you that you had made it to the farmhouse.

"Ya still snore like a grown-ass man." Raph jokes, only for you to protest that you don't snore again. But you may never know for sure.

Looking through the window on your right, you can see the beautiful ivory house with at least eight rooms and three floors. It seems incredibly well-kept, with no visible signs of wear or tear. Casey's relatives enjoyed this house and spent much time ensuring it was in excellent condition.

You can see the excitement in all of the turtle's eyes and Master Splinter's. This must be their most anticipated event during the springtime. As you get closer to the driveway of the house, you can see a large lake in the distance, along with a dense forest surrounding the property that seems miles deep. Don't tell Casey to freak him out, but this would be a great Fallout location.

You could go into great detail about everything you guys did together, but that would take forever.

To make the long story short, it was indeed an unforgettable time. While you already felt close with the rest of the Hamato brothers, you were one big family by the end.

Now, Master Splinter doesn't use the word "family" lightly. Family has such a deep meaning for him. It took April and Casey a while to be considered family. However, they were so in debt to the turtles from all the times they saved them that they owed them nothing but trust and loyalty. When Splinter recognized this, he accepted them into their home and family.

From watching you interact with his sons and having a caring attitude toward them, Splinter accepted you into the family. You were a Hamato. Err, figuratively, not literally. His number one reason is the way Raphael was when he came around you. He watched how his most temperamental son became caring and loving toward someone in a romantic way. He had told you over a cup of tea that you gave him hope for Raph's brothers. That in this unbelievable world, there was a chance there would be someone for each of them.

Speaking of Raph, a week-long getaway was just what the two of you needed to get closer to each other. When you all began the road trip, Raphael went to work, mentally planning things for you both to do outside (ooh, romantic~).

When you weren't with the entire crew, you were with your boyfriend- just how you and Raph liked it. Don't get me wrong- Raphael loves his alone time, but this trip allowed him to do things he usually wouldn't get to do with you in the city. The biggest one is going outside in the daylight.

And, of course, there were plenty of times you two were intimate. And boy were those moments especially unforgettable. Raphael had this unspoken sexiness to himself and the way he presented that caused your brain to produce the nastiest thoughts- and when you let him know what you were thinking, he would give you that lustful smirk he always does before picking you up to set you down on the bed- effortlessly managing to close the door and lock it behind you two in the process.

The whole trip had been a wonderful experience. If you were being honest, you didn't want it to end. But sadly, it had to. The city needed protecting, and you had to go back to work. It was no surprise that saying goodbye to the home you'd become accustomed to for the past 7 days was hard; it was a haven. Before leaving, you silently waved at each piece of rustic vintage furniture.

Moving on to the present time, you couldn't be happier now. After the week at the farmhouse, you were ready for the best part about Spring: The fiery Aries zodiac season. It is also known as Raph's birthday season.

Since so much time has passed since Leo's return, and since Raphael put away his Nightwatcher persona, things have returned to normal.

The question was: would it last?

You wouldn't be in college forever, and your parents wouldn't be renting that apartment you lived in forever. College was quickly coming to a close, and you would be finishing up your undergraduate degree soon.

You also had it made. You had your own space and cat—you get the idea. You felt ready to spread your wings and leave the nest your parents crafted for you, unbothered by what may come soon. The present was just so beautiful and full of wonderful experiences that the future's problems were minuscule. You'll find a career and stable income with time.

As melancholy as it may sound, you couldn't return to your life before Raphael. You couldn't imagine what it would be like after graduation; would you stay or return home? Your parents would only pay your rent for a while, mainly because you would finish your undergraduate degree.

After much time and consideration, you and your parents came to one conclusion. One that you all could agree on.

Once this agreement was settled, you thought of ways to tell the turtle in red. You knew that Raphael also thought about you leaving. He had this small doubt in the back of his head that you would go back home, never to be seen again. However, you did not intend to leave him or the relationship you two had built.

As Raphael's birthday came closer and closer, you got all your ducks in a row. Everything was finalized, and there wasn't any turning back. But you didn't want to turn back. You weren't going to turn back. Ever.

By the time his birthday rolled around, you were ready.

"Hellooo~!" You sing as you enter the turtle's home. You're first greeted by Mikey, who is cooking in the kitchen. Mikey turns to face you with a "kiss the chef" apron on. You can't help but giggle.

"Hey, dudette!" Mikey greets. "Whatcha got there?"

"It's Raph's surprise birthday cake." You grin. You make yourself comfortable, lowering the white box to take off your black vest. Then, placing it along with your purse on the coat hanger adjacent to the kitchen, you turn the cake around to show Mikey.

"Red velvet?" he muses. You nod. You had the baker write "Happy Birthday Raph" in red icing, and the rim and top of the cake were also decorated with red icing. You knew Raph would enjoy a simple cake.

"With cream cheese frosting?" A new voice enters the conversation. You turn around, nervous to see if your surprise has been ruined. Luckily, it was only Leonardo.

"Don't worry, Raph's not here right now. He's with Casey at their apartment; he should return in an hour." Leo reassures you, noticing the anxious look on your face. Feeling relieved, you put your guard down for now.

"Yes, and shell yes! I took a trip down to Times Square at this popular bakery to get it. I told them not to make it too sweet. It's the best bakery around!" You say. Mikey makes some room in the fridge for you to place it inside.

"He's gonna love it," Leo smiles, acknowledging your efforts. The trip to Times Square is not for the weak. Especially during the spring. "Might not say it, but it'll show when he cuts himself a piece."

"Dudette, I saved a lot from my Cowabunga Carl business! I got him a new punching bag!" Raphael always complained that the punching bag in the dojo was getting weaker, and you would always tell him to go easy on the poor thing.

"Eh, they're meant ta be punched." He would say, "But still, I mean, who the shell would make something so…" and he would complain about the fabric being cheap, etcetera, etcetera. You get the idea.

"What about you, Leo?" You ask. The brown-eyed turtle grins before pulling out an elongated brown case. Opening it up, you see six silver shurikens propped up by a felt. Engraved on top of the inside was the phrase, "Para mi familia." It looked carved by hand.

"I was able to get these during my time in South America. I brought back a ton of trinkets and items, but I made sure to keep these safe. I wanted to give them to Raph, and now is a great time to do that, don't you think?" Leo says. He also says he added the wording on the inside; rather than being in Japanese, he thought it would be nice to write it in Spanish- a language he had always been interested in learning.

"Leo…these are beautiful." You comment. Leo places the box on the dining table while you take a walk to see what the new punching bag looks like.

Peering into the dojo, you see Splinter meditating. Across the dojo are the weights and an obvious new addition to the equipment. It's a large black bag hanging from a holster. It appears to be nailed to the floorboard. It's clearly bigger than the last bag Raphael was using, and this one also had a big red bow wrapped around it.

Not wanting to interrupt Splinter's meditation, you quietly step away and walk toward Donnie's lab (or nerd cave, as Raph has named it).

"Knock knock." You say to the purple-banded turtle hunched over something. From what you can see, it appears to be Raph's bike. Donnie stands up and stretches, "Hey, Y/n! Wanna see what I got Raph?" You nod, and Donnie steps away from his current project.

"Ta-da!" He reveals Raph's baby, his prized possession: Roxanne.

"Aw, Donnie…" You say as you walk toward Roxy. Only this time, Roxanne had some new upgrades. Her ruby red paint was beautiful and scratch-free, the coating adding shine. Her tires looked brand spanking new, as well. Her tires had some more grooves, probably for when Raphael goes a little crazy on the streets with Casey or you.

"I hope he likes it. I think this bike needed some TLC." Donnie says.

"He'll love it," you say. You loved how all the brothers went out of their way for Raphael's birthday. Seeing how they all chipped in to get him gifts was adorable.

It might put yours to shame.

"What'd you get him, Y/n?" Donny asks, grabbing a towel from the table to wipe his sweat.

“Compared to you guys…it’s not much…” You say. Donnie sighs, and he puts a supportive hand on your shoulder. He looks down at you and smiles.

"Comparison is the thief of joy, you know."

"Thank you, human fortune cookie." You joke.

"Donatello is right, Y/n." A new voice emerges from the doorway. Turning around, you see Master Splinter. His short figure was wrapped up in his red robe.

"I'm sure my son will appreciate anything you get him. Although he might not say it, he will show it." Splinter's words help you feel better about your gift. As you bow, you gather Mikey and Leo to share the gift you got for the red terrapin.

"Are you kidding?" Leonardo blurts out, and your facial expression turns into shock. Is it that bad?

"He's going to wanna marry you after you give it to him." The rest of the family shares a laugh together, and you now have a newfound confidence in your surprise gift for Raphael.

With the validation from Raph's brothers and sensei, you couldn't wait to give it to him.

"Are you one? Are you two? Are you-" "That ain't part of the song, Mikey." Raph grumbles as he cuts himself a hefty piece of red velvet cake, his favorite. He didn't have a sweet tooth, and after taking his first bite, he thought it was perfect. It wasn't too sweet, just the way he liked it.

He deserved this after enduring "Happy Birthday" surrounded by family, friends, and his girlfriend. He felt so awkward when people sang Happy Birthday to him that he kind of just sat there waiting to blow out the candles. He wasn't about to sit here and wait until Mikey counted from one all the way to his new age.

You watched as the gift-giving commenced.

Master Splinter had given Raphael a new pair of practice sai for when he sparred. He needed another pair since his old one had a few hundred miles on it, and the wear and tear was obvious.

April got Raph a brand-new hammock for his room. She remembered him saying he wondered if they had bigger ones that held two people because he wanted to share them with you.

Casey gave Raph a brown bag. Jones said it was some sparkling cider. However, the way his hand gripped the head of the bottle and handed it to Raph with a wink while April rolled her eyes, you knew it had to be Casamigos or Hennesy—both being Raph's favorites.

Master Splinter decides to let it slide and save the "drink responsibly" lecture for after the celebration.

Mikey went next and told Raph to look in the dojo. He raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously. After a trip to the dojo, he returns and gives his baby brother a noogie.

"...appreciate it, lil bro."

Next went Leo, and once Raph opened the box, his amber eyes looked admirably at the shurikens inside.

"What's it say?" He asks as he inspects the engraving inside of the box.

"For my family."

"Ey, thanks, Fearless." Leonardo and Raphael give each other a "bro hug," as they would call it. Master Splinter smiles; seeing his two eldest sons get along and embrace each other warms his heart.

Next was Donnie, and everyone went to the garage. Raph's bike was covered with a cloth, waiting to be unveiled.

"I thought your bike needed some shine." The tech wiz smirks. Donatello quickly takes the cloth off to reveal Roxy. She's as beautiful as you remember her being an hour ago.

Raphael's eyes went wide as he walked around his motorcycle to examine its new appearance.

"Don, ya amaze me- ya know dat?" Raphael's hands grip the handlebars, and then he uses his fingers to feel the ridges on the new tires. He couldn't wait to feel how she drove.

"I know," the turtle in purple says matter of factly.

You walk toward Raph and grip his bicep, "I didn't forget about yours; it's at my place," You wink and kiss his cheek only to hear an "aww!" from Mikey, followed by a "Can it!" from Raph.

Once you all made your way back to the living room, you began putting everything away. April and Casey said their goodbyes and headed back to the surface to return home, and you were preparing to leave with Raphael.

"I won't keep him long, guys. I'll see you all soon, okay?" You give warm hugs to Raphael's brothers and sensei (you loved how his fuzz tickled your skin.)

"Good luck and congratulations, Miss Y/n." Raphael's eyes narrow at his father's comment, wondering what you had up your sleeve. Splinter retreats to the kitchen to fix himself and Leo some tea, and Donnie goes into his lab, taking Mikey with him since he needs a lab assistant.

"Ya ain't gonna kidnap me are ya?" Raphael jokes, opening up your bedroom window. He steps in first, then takes your hand and helps you inside.

"If I could, I would." You muse, "I'd put you in my pocket and take you out whenever I needed a bear hug, Big Red."

"I ain't fittin' in that tiny pocket o' yers, princess." Raph smirks.

You roll your eyes playfully as you take Raph's left hand and lead him into your living room. His mind runs through all his ideas of what else you've gotten him. If he was being honest, the cake was enough- you got it made just the way he likes it- which, by the way- he wasn't sure how you did that until he thought back to a year or two back when Mikey was bringing cake slices home from birthday parties.

Mikey would always try to get a piece of red velvet cake, and Raphael would always scrape away the extra frosting because it was just too sweet for him. You must've asked his brothers about his semi-sweet tooth for cake. That alone was a thoughtful gift in itself.

As you walk toward the couch, you two are greeted by Stella as she brushes against your legs as a greeting. She mews in excitement that you're back and the familiar mutant is too. She couldn't wait to perch on his shoulder and get her chin scratched.

Sitting on the couch together, Raphael notices the red folder on the coffee table in front of him. He snakes his arm around your shoulders to pull you close. Resting your head on his shoulder, you also look at the folder you placed there strategically to catch the turtle's attention.

For Raphael

"Go ahead, open it, " you say as you notice Raph's attention on the file, his mind wandering to what it could be.

He grabs the red folder, opening it with one hand while the other stays wrapped around your frame. Soon, it reveals two pockets: the left one empty and the right one containing a single sheet of paper that appears to be some sort of contract.

After taking the paper, Raphael skims it, rereading the phrase in bold at the top of the page:

RESIDENTIAL LEASE AGREEMENT

He begins to reread it, only this time word for word. Are his eyes deceiving him? Is he really reading what he thinks he's reading?

Were you…

Were you really…

"I saved enough to put the apartment in my name—my parents agreed to be cosigners."

"So that means…" Raphael reads over the lease again, only this time, he sees your name signed at the bottom.

"It means I'm staying here. For good. Remember when I said you can't get rid of me easil- mmph!" Raphael shuts you up with a kiss. You drop what's in your hand and feel as time seems to stretch during this moment.

Raphael deepens the kiss by leaning into you, his calloused hand sliding down from your hair to the back of your neck. Your free hands cup his cheeks, tilting your head and commencing a French kiss. Your tongues dance to the familiar song they always did when you shared a romantic and steamy kiss.

You snap back to reality when you realize you have one last surprise for the red-clad turtle.

"Hey," you pull away, gasping softly for air. I still have one more thing to give you."

"One more? Babe, ya didn't have to." Kissing your forehead as his hands rest on your hips, you can't help but look up at your boyfriend with a grin, your laugh lines around your lips growing heavier.

"Ya stayin fa good, that's all I need" You lightly push Raphael's plastron away from you to grab the other part of his gift. He watches your figure move around your apartment living room, going toward the kitchen table and returning with your hands behind you.

You give your lover a mischievous look, and as you return to him, you reveal what you're hiding

behind your back.

"Open it," You say, placing a small black box in his large hands. Raphael opens it slowly, unsure what tricks you might have up your sleeve.

Well, he wasn't sure if this was a trick at all. As his golden eyes scan the shiny object inside, he isn't sure what it's for, although he has a few ideas.

Not wanting to get ahead of himself, he asks for some clarification. "What's it for?" He asks, cocking a brow at you.

"Let me show you," taking the small gift from his hands, you stand up from the couch and walk toward your front door to exit. Locking the door behind you, you wait a few seconds before unlocking the door and re-entering your apartment. When you come back in, Raphael is still where you left him. Only now, he has a smirk on his face.

"Now I know what you're about to say,"

Before he can object, you telepathically read his mind.

"And don't worry, it works for the window, too." You return the gift to the amber-eyed turtle, who quickly catches it.

He decides to inspect it again before putting it back in its spot. He brushes his green thumb over the metal, feeling all its rough edges. His calloused hands take turns fiddling with it, almost as if Raph is trying to see if he is dreaming.

"You have a home on the surface, too." Raphael's flat lips curl into a small smile. However, you were shocked by what you were seeing.

Raphael was grinning.

Smiling right back at him with your toothy grin, he stands up, embracing you in a tight hug. You both stand like this in silence. Neither of you said a word for what felt like forever. It isn't until Raphael breaks this silence between the two of you. He brushes a finger across your cheek and then puts it under your chin. Soon enough, your eyes met- and his amber ones seemed to twinkle as he spoke.

"Thanks… fa this. Fa everythin’."

The hoarseness in his voice indicated that he was almost at a loss for words. Raphael was new to this. He wasn't used to someone other than his brothers or Splinter doing nice things for him. He wasn't used to anyone caring as much as you did.

Unlike Leo when he went to South America for training, you took much time and thought into how you could continue to include him in your day-to-day life. And unlike Sabrina, you weren't going to just up and leave. You wouldn't go away and lose all contact with him, either. You wanted to include him as much as possible.

You were so much different than Sabrina. In fact, you were nothing like her. Raphael knew that.

This small act of selflessness not only reflected how much you cared about him but also how much you wanted to be with him. He knew that you didn't care about his appearance, where he lived, or who—or what—he was living with. You loved and embraced all the baggage he came with.

Raphael isn't good with saying "thank you" or verbally expressing his gratitude, and this was one of the rare times he did so.

Words didn't need to describe the way Raphael felt about you. He had no issue with showing it.

It might've been just a key, but this meant more to him than you could imagine. It meant you were here to stay. You weren't going anywhere, and that thought caused Raphael's stomach to churn with significant anxiousness for what was to come in the future. Not in a million years did he expect to be where he is right now. So as he places his lips on yours to share yet another romantic kiss, he can’t help but smile into it. His kisses were always good, but this one was different. This one had a lot of emotions behind it. He deepens the kiss, picking you up and letting you wrap your legs around his waist. As you giggle into the kiss, he leans into it some more, exerting all of the passion and love he has for you.

While Raphael had a place to call home in the sewers, he now had someone he could call home as well.

For the first time in all his years of living, he loved being a turtle.

--------------------------FIN-------------------------------------------

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: HERE

CHAPTER LIST: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 9.5 10 (current) // Taglist: @bee-1n-space @ducky-died-inside @xnorthstar3x @miss-andromeda Masterlist D I S C O R D

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