#the long awaited stark ass ranking

[cappymightwrite]

cappy release the ass rankings, do it for the clout (though I live in fear of having to see that picture of Ned’s hairy ass again)

In the notes for this ASSk, I mentioned that I was tempted to do a Stark ass ranking, and looks like the people have spoken so...

First and foremost, let's establish a scoring system. I'm going to go with a grading out of FIVE (5) peaches 🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑 Also, apologies to the original ass anon, but I'm going to be ranking according a general ass vibe, not soley the hairiness of said ass (or arse? since I'm a Brit, lmao... also fuck me, the pain of writing that sentence, christ alive). So 5/5 peaches, that's a mighty fine ass, 1/5... you get it... (actually that might be more of a 0/5).

But what does make a good ass? Yeah, that's right, I looked it up.

“I like the Goldilocks [comparison]," Dr. Kerri Johnson of UCLA says. "Goldilocks only evaluates her man to be more attractive when he’s just right -- the hyper-masculinity is perceived as kind of threatening. ... Having large muscles is not the same thing as having toned muscles; big, bulky muscles are perceived as less attractive than well-toned, moderately sized muscles."

There's a delicate balance in the middle, where "too little is unattractive and too much is unattractive." [source]

^So that's something to consider, lmao. This idea of balance.

Next point to address... who we ranking? I'm thinking we go back to Robert's Rebellion era, as well as the current timeline:

Rickard Stark

Brandon Stark

Eddard "Ned" Stark

Benjen Stark

Robb Stark*

Jon Snow*

*For these two... I'm just going to pretend they are closer to the show ages, but I'll be basing my judgement on book characterisation.

So... let's all channel our inner Tina Belcher and press onwards!

Rickard Stark

Old man Stark himself. According to awoiaf.org, he apparently he had a long, stern face with quiet dignity. No mention of his ass though. So, as with all of these, my ranking will be influenced by vibes, by characteristation, etc.

We all know this guy for his "southern ambitions"... so an ambitious man, a proud man, a man who believes in having the best — according to awoiaf.org, Rickard owned steel armour with golden spurs... fancy. Oh, the irony then, that this man had a less than impressive ass. That's right. It's all about overcompensating for this man. It's all about overcompensating for that borderline FLAT (probably hairy, coz Ned had to inherit it from someone) ASS.

Back in the day, prior to the you know... being murdered, he tried to cover it with long leather jerkins, he never allowed you to view him from behind so would exit rooms by walking backwards... but alas... the less said about old man Stark's arse the better.

As coined by @istumpysk, Rickard was for sure suffering from a "lower extremity impairment."

Score = 🍑

Brandon Stark

This is tough, because I wanna say Brandon inherited that flat Hank Hill ass from his father, but Brandon is canonically meant to be hot stuff — not THE hottest Stark, mind you, but still. So, while I think his fuckboi energy deserves a 1 peach rating... I mean, he did beat up Littlefinger so... I think, when it comes down to it, he had an average looking arse. Like, from all that simping that Barbrey Dustin does about him, you'd think it was glorious, but really... not so much.

So, in a way… it loses points for its deception.

Coz I think it actually looked deceptively good in leather breeches, which added to his hot mystique, but once those clothes came off? Kind of so so. Kind of a oh, that's it vibe. Like, it's fine, but nothing to write a raven home about, you know? Without the presumably tight leather trousers containing it, giving it form, definition, that ass lacks curvature. It lacks verve, bounce, a... plushness. It's not exactly flat, and he is a muscled guy, but that is just part of the problem — you try to smack that ass, you breaking a hand, my friend. Like Dr. Johnson noted, hyper-masculinity in an ass is not attractive, it's just not it, and I think that's part of Brandon's problem here, and that parallels/compliments his wolf-blooded, macho, fuckboi character tbh.

Also, probably inherited papa Stark's hairy ass, which again plays into the hyper-masculinity of it all. But hey, no judgement Barb.

An optical illusion of an ass, if you will.

Score = 🍑🍑

Eddard "Ned" Stark

Canonically... a hairy-assed motherfucker according to THIS image from the graphic novels:

(Special thanks to @kellyvela for being the custodian of this image, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to find it!)

Now, from the clenched fist, one can assumed that that ass in tensed... and more often than not, it probably remained that way, coz there was so much for Ned to be tense and stressed over, lmao. And Jesus Christ... it's hard to ignore the hair, it really is. Most likely it was difficult to overcome the Stark Hairy Ass™ gene, as we have seen in the previous two enteries.

That being said, I'm trying to consider this arse in a more relaxed state... and I think it's got a decent shape to it, let's be fair here. I think we're finally getting somewhere. I mean, you'd hope for Ned's sake that he had some cushioning on that ass during all those Hand of the king meetings, sitting on that god awful throne. If you were to spank that bum, you'd get some decent plush push back I'd say — miles better that the absolute void of his father's arse and the brick wall of Brandon's.

So, yeah, he may have been the more solemn, plainer brother in comparison to Brandon, but when it came to the ass lottery? Cat did alright for herself in the end. No harm, no foul (apart from the hair).

A respectable enough ass. But by no means sensensational.

Score = 🍑🍑1/2… 🍑🍑🍑 with some waxing

Robb Stark

*the Tully genes have just entered the chat*

Ok, this was tough, because I almost switched these two half-brothers *cough* cousins *cough* around. But then I remembered that Robb is described as "muscular", and that made me ponder this a bit more closely. Now, I think the hot Tully genes resulted in a pretty good ass for Robb, certainly better than his father's. I also think he managed to swerve the Stark Hairy Ass™ just as his did the Stark Look™ in general.

For all that Robb made mistakes in his kingship, one thing that never failed him was his peachy lil ass. Spankable for sure. A good look in tight leather, and good look out of it too.

But it's his more muscular bod that lets him down a little... it doesn't quite show off the ass to its full potential. The shoulder to hip ratio for Robb is less pronounced, I feel, than Jon's say, and thus that is where he loses points. That being said, this is a fine young ass that, had it lived, might have, in the right, flattering light, reached four (4) peaches out of five one day. But as things stand...

Score = 🍑🍑🍑1/2

Jon Snow

*the Targ genes have just entered the chat*

Straight away, the curse of the Stark Hairy Ass™ has been eliminated. It's not something to worry about with our boy Jon. I mean, I'm not a genealogist (if you couldn't tell), but I'm telling you that the one (1) perk of the Targs interbreeding is that they filtered out the hairy ass gene a long time ago, probably circa Valyria era.

Now, as we know, Jon is "slender" where Robb is "muscular" (AGOT, Bran I), so that's something to consider. With that in mind, I think Jon has a sweet little twink butt. A real peach of an ass. It's potentially the prettiest thing about him — an interesting contrast to his otherwise typical, solemn Stark Look™. In a way, it hints towards his inherent Otherness, the fact that Ned isn't his real father, plus his "lusty" bastard nature, if you will. That's why I think it beats out Robb's bum, certainly character-wise, if not in the hip to shoulder ratio. Indeed, I think it would be interesting if Jon has a mighty fine tush, because it sets him even more apart from the Starks.

It's an ass with the power to Other. You spank that tush and you won't be left wanting, I'll tell you that for free, my friend.

Because Jon has an ass that, unlike his uncle Brandon’s, is no illusion. It looks great in leather breeches, as well as out of them. It's smallish, matching his slender hips, but perfectly formed. It has that duality of both being adorable and hot property. A hot piece of ass real estate.

Good for you, Jon. You honestly deserve that peachy lil bum.

Score = 🍑🍑🍑🍑

But let's not forget from whom you inherited that butt...

Benjen Stark

I mean... who else was I going to rank at the top? Not only is this man somehow surviving out there in the cold wilderness, he also managed to avoid the curse of the Stark Hairy Ass™ AND his father's Hank Hill butt. What are the chances?! But that's Benjen for you... defying all the odds, somehow surviving in the face of extreme adversity. More than anyone else, he quite frankly deserves a great arse to go along with his textbook Stark Look™.

Because Joseph Mawle just is Benjen Stark, I feel like I'm justified in using him as a reference. And the reference I want to use is JM in s2 of Ripper Street... now, granted, the ass isn't the main focus of this scene, but still... the overall impression I get is that, like Jon's, it's a ass that pairs well with slender hips and wider shoulders. It's an ass that looks good in tight trousers... and out of them. It's an ass with everything that his father and elder brothers' lacked: verve, bounce, dare I say it... vulnerability, charisma.

It's an ass that has endured and will endure.

An ass for the ages. An ass for all time. You spank that ass and you're going back for another swat, my friend. It's that inviting. That giving. It is, as noted by Dr. Johnson, the Goldilocks of asses. Just right.

Score = 🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

Well... there you have it... my Stark ass ranking. Now, stop asking me about butts.

Thank you and good day.

[gallickingun]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* mobile masterlist *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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please feel free to send me requests to MY ASK BOX!

currently writing for: dragon ball z, and my hero academia. i do not tag drabbles and/or thirst posts here, only full length fics. 

as if it needed to be said, i always make sure every character i write for is of age, regardless of whether or not there is “of age” content that is in the fic!

LAST UPDATED: may 20, 2020

REQUEST STATUS: open | CURRENT # of REQUESTS: 149

fic: moving target word count: 12.3k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, a lil spice, a creepy scene using a quirk, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bodyguard au summary/excerpt: Bakugou Katsuki’s reputation needs a little work. His manager and agent suggest he take a job as a personal bodyguard to one of the agency’s biggest donors, looking after his daughter, in order to increase his social standing and rise back up in the hero ranks. Bakugou agrees, reminding himself that whoever he’s babysitting is nothing more than a glorified paycheck, a stepping ladder to get closer to surpassing even All Might in hero status. But, when you’re kidnapped, he has to face the truth that you might mean more to him than he planned.

fic: turn it out for me word count: 2,205 rated: m/e+ warnings: spice, language, blood, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: "You’ve got something on your mouth. Here, let me.” summary/excerpt: Katsuki keeps you under his thumb for hours, it feels like. You’re sure at some point you stopped breathing or your eyes rolled back too far and they’re stuck. However, he does not let up long enough for you to care. Bakugou is heavy as he loiters over the top of you, knees on either side of you as he lays you out, bare as a baby. “Kacchan,” you whimper, your head thrown back as his fingers probe at you again, teasing your nipples under his harsh touch. Bakugou chuckles, leaning back on his thick thighs to glower down at you, “Yeah, baby?”

fic: please, i beg of you word count: 5.3k rated: m/e+ warnings: praise kink, emotions, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: praise kink summary/excerpt: Bakugou has always been arrogant, but it is in these moments when you find him to be nothing more than a prodigy child begging to be a worthy man. Maybe your words can help soothe the burn on his tired soul.

fic: rivals and friends word count: 1.3k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “only you can call me that” summary/excerpt: He pauses, hand frozen on your shoulder blade. You smile but it’s ironic, “I’m headed to a new agency. You can have this whole class of sidekicks to yourself now. You can kick all their asses.” Bakugo blinks, and the thing he says next is confusing, “What the hell? You’re just-leaving?”

fic: suckerpunch word count: 4.3k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “it’s 2am and I’m calling you because I need you” // boxer!au summary/excerpt: “Fuck,” Bakugou brushes the heels of his hands over his eyes, one completely swollen shut and the other weeping uncontrollably. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, bloody fingertips smearing over his screen. Another string of expletives tumble from his lips before he can find your name in his contacts. He can’t help but note the time on his phone - 2:37 am. “Please pick up,” Bakugou swallows the growing lump in his throat, “C’mon, pl-oh, hey.” Your voice rings out on the other end of the receiver, gravelly from sleep but he can’t even notice because he’s just so thankful that you’re awake now. His voice cracks when he speaks next, “C-Can you…shit, can you come pick me up?”

fic: rise up word count: 2.6k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, a lil spice, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “katsuki only calls reader by her real name” summary/excerpt: "You don’t see us as equals, do you?” He smirks, “Well, I am the one on top of you while you beg for mercy, so you tell me.” Your face burns bright red at his words and he falters, his breath hitching. He didn’t really mean it, it just slipped out. Or, rather, he didn’t mean for it to come across so honest.

fic: take me home word count: 409 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: drunk!bakugou summary/excerpt: “Damn, you’re so heavy,” you grumble, holding him up by the shoulders, a majority of his body laying over you. “Ever think about going on a diet?” He pokes his finger into your cheek, “You’se try wavin’ those fuckin’ gauntlets around with chicken arms.”

fic: vice versa word count: 1.2K rated: t+ warnings: language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: Bakugou getting hit by a quirk that makes him all sweet and clingy whit his s/o? He just wants cuddles! summary/excerpt: “You listen here, you half-pint!” Bakugou is collecting the sweat in his palms, biding time as he curses at the villain, “I’m gonna knock your ass sky high, you hear me? You’re gonna regret the day you were born!” Bakugou knows the whole reason that he got assigned to this mission was because it was going to be a quick one - nothing more than a d-list villain trying to make a name for themselves by flashing their quirk in public. He’s getting closer, stalking them down on the pavement as he feels the moisture building on his skin. He squeezes his hand, cocking the grenade-esque gauntlet on his right arm, a wicked grin on his lips as his eyes widen. The pin has barely left the mechanism before the villain is twisting in midair, legs twirling just enough to propel them forward. They flip, brushing the crown of Bakugou’s head with their fingertip - just enough that their quirk reaches out like tendrils to wrap around his body. The momentary distraction allows the other support hero to blast the villain with a stun-net, trapping them and detaining them to the asphalt. Bakugou turns, dazed and confused, but all he knows is he wants to get home to you.

fic: so special {to me} word count: 728 rated: t+ warnings: language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “katsuki uses a lot of nicknames for reader/SO” summary/excerpt: “Anyone hear Bakugou call her angel the other day?” Kirishima mutters behind the wall of his palm, looking at the others with wide eyes. You and Katsuki are currently at the noodle counter, standing close as he pays for the two of you to grab some lunch while you’re out with your friends. It’s winter break, college courses pausing just long enough for you to catch your breath. “I heard him say babe for the first time, I swear.” Denki chuckles, kicking his feet up into Kirishima’s lap. “He’s head over heels, that Bakugou.” Kirishima scoffs, “At least she doesn’t have a crude nickname like Shitty Hair.”

fic: sweet ass, smart ass word count: 2,355 rated: m/e+ warnings: a lil spicy, language, alcohol, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugo’s SO likes to comment on his body, specifically his ass summary/excerpt: “Seriously, babe, it must be a side effect of your quirk, ‘cause you have a pretty sweet ass.” “I swear to Christ.” You smirk from over your glass, raising a brow as if to challenge him in this room full of people. You nudge his calf with the toe of your shoe underneath the table, everyone’s breath caught in their throats as they await what comes next. All Bakugou can do is grunt, turn his head to the side so no one can see the pink tinge on his cheeks, and take a long drag of his beer. 

fic: something lost word count: 1,232 rated: t+ warnings: sadness ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugou + SO losing a pregancy summary/excerpt: “You did nothing wrong,” he murmurs against your ear, holding you close. “This isn’t your fault.” “It’s my body, Kacchan. Kind of feels like my fault.” You swear you see the threat of tears making his eyes bulge when you look him directly in the face. Your lower lip wobbles, “I-I wasn’t strong enough.” His hands are rough as he snatches you by the jaw, holding you captive, “Shut the hell up, do you hear me?”

fic: kiss me slowly word count: drabble rated: k warnings: none! ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugou + secret relationship summary/excerpt: You retweet an emotional message and Bakugou feels guilty.

fic: keep my secrets safe word count: 1.7k rated: t warnings: language ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugou + talking in his sleep summary/excerpt: Bakugou hates covert work. And he’s hungry. But also, apparently he talks in his sleep?

fic: toxic kiss, forbidden words word count: 1,704 rated: t+ warnings: spicy, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: fwb + “I think I’m in love with you”  summary/excerpt: Your legs start to give out, unable to hold this position for much longer. You tap his calf with your toes, getting his attention. Bakugou’s palm drifts down your thigh, his body slowing as he leans to look at the only visible part of your face over your shoulder. Bakugou can tell what your silent direction means, and so he pushes your knee at just the right angle that he can flip your body. Your back is flush with the mattress, the heat from your skin stark contrast to the cool sheets; it feels refreshing, so much so that your eyes roll back in your head at the sensation. The way he looks down at you makes you want to break your one rule; the one thing you both said would help you keep this nothing more than it is.

fic: break the glass {in case of emergency} word count: 21.2k+ rated: m/e+ warnings: language, smut, slight violence, etc. ship: todoroki shouto x reader prompt/scenario/trope: single father pro hero shouto summary/excerpt: Todoroki Shouto needs help, so he hires a nanny. More specifically, he hires you.

fic: uncontrollable, uncontainable word count: 697 rated: t+ warnings: blood, violence, language ship: todoroki shouto x reader prompt/scenario/trope: todoroki + first kiss summary/excerpt: “I should have pulled back,” he starts to stammer, “I-I swore I wouldn’t use this side of me, because I can’t control it. Today taught me that.” “No,” you shake your head, voice coming out hoarse. When you swallow the lump in your throat, it pushes your tears over the edge, two little streams following the curvature of your cheeks. Shouto squeezes your palm, “I am no better than Endeavor - than my father.” “You are not your father,” you pinch the inside of his wrist, “hear me?”

fic: tomorrow is too far word count: 977 rated: g warnings: fluff - tooth rotting cuteness! ship: todoroki shouto x reader prompt/scenario/trope: todoroki + “unexpected hand touching” summary/excerpt: You sling your backpack over your shoulders and he takes the first step towards the exit, holding the door open for you once he gets there. It’s silent as you walk down the stairs and out the front entrance, the cool evening air washing over you like a balm. “Wow,” you breathe in the sunshine-laced air, feeling rejuvinated, “it’s beautiful.” Shoto tilts his head, considering you while you’re distracted, “Yeah, it is.”

fic: only for a moment {maybe for forever} word count: 1,069 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: kirishima x reader prompt/scenario/trope: kiri + fake relationship summary/excerpt: “Please, just for a minute,” you say in a whisper before tensing back up, leaning further into him. It’s as if you’re getting back into character, the fog slipping over your face again, “You’re too sweet. I’ll pick up the next round, ‘kay?”

fic: you’re my home word count: 923 rated: g warnings: none! ship: kirishima x reader prompt/scenario/trope: kiri + tired cuddling summary/excerpt: “Wanna cuddle?” you ask, already knowing the answer. It’s not uncommon for Kirishima to need to recharge his battery when he gets home, and usually that’s fulfilled by curling up together on the couch and eating some greasy food. He is always calmed by your touch, by the anchor you give him to the real world, as he likes to refer to it.

fic: stars in my eyes, love in my touch word count: 2,769 rated: m/e+ warnings: spicy, language, etc. ship: kirishima x reader prompt/scenario/trope: kiri + pregnant!reader + fluff summary/excerpt: His mouth trails, pert blushed lips tickling your body, from your collarbones to your belly. He laughs once he gets to your navel, his voice soft as he speaks, “Not givin’ mama a hard time, are ya’?” Your heart warms at the sight of Kirishima mumbling to your unborn child, his fingertips tracing patterns and names over the stretched skin. He never fails to make you feel beautiful and important, especially not now. Kiri is always telling you how amazing you look, even if it’s in a pair of sweatpants and one of his tee shirts. “You’re so perfect, you know that?” Kiri kisses the top of your belly before pushing himself closer to your face. He’s smiling as he kisses you gently, much in contrast to the past couple of hours you’ve spent between the sheets. He doesn’t mind, though, not right now when your hormones are raging and you want every bit of him that he has to offer. Kirishima kisses your cheek before pulling away, tugging you close so you can curl up into him, “I don’t know who I had to bribe in another life to get lucky with someone like you, but thank goodness I did it.”

fic: when liquid courage fails word count: 1,389 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: deku x reader prompt/scenario/trope: izuku + drunken confession summary/excerpt: “I don’t want to be best friends anymore,” he sniffles, his lips quirking as he tries to make the next words come out of his mouth. “I can’t be best friends a-anymore.” “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, racking your brain for something you could’ve said or done in the past couple of months to set him off, but you come up blank. You start to sweat, your hands flying around when you speak, “Deku, y-you could’ve told me, we could talk abo-” “No,” he reaches up to circle his hand around your wrist, tugging you back down to earth. He’s laughing, which is much unlike him, but it makes you pause, “This is why Kacchan told me to get drunk. B-Because I can’t think straight around you and I always screw it up.”

fic: quiet confessions word count: 763 rated: t+ warnings: n/a ship: vegeta x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “You’re in a coma and I confessed all my feelings for you only for you to wake up” summary/excerpt: “Stupid woman,” he speaks almost affectionately, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. “You’ve got to wake up, so I can tell you where my mind is at, what I’m thinking. Don’t you owe me that much?” He waits, patience wearing thin as your heart beats slower with time. As the machine echoes loudly in the room, he tries to even his breathing in tandem with the sounds. “No, I guess you don’t owe me anything.” His lower lip trembles, but he grits his teeth, straining his jaw muscles. “If there’s anyone who owes anyone else, it’s me. I owe you my life.”

fic: remember me word count: 6.9k+ rated: t+ warnings: mild language and violence, etc. ship: tamaki amajiki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: flower shop au summary/excerpt:  Tamaki Amajiki saves a civilian. He doesn’t expect her to buy him coffee and teach him about the wiles of floral culture.

fic: vanilla soft serve word count: 754 rated: t+ warnings: none! ship: tamaki amajiki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: tamaki + first kiss summary/excerpt: Maybe it was the way you looked with ice cream on the tip of your nose. Or maybe it was the fact that his pulse was thudding in his ears. It might even be the way that your eyelashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks when you smile. Whatever it is, it makes Tamaki’s heart leap into his throat.

fic: rule breaker word count: 708 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: tenya iida x reader prompt/scenario/trope: tenya + being hit by a personality reversing quirk summary/excerpt: “Yeah, babe, I’m fine!” He’s laughing now, tugging you forward to wrap you up into his thick arms. You’re sighing, falling into his embrace, taking it even though it feels foreign somehow. Tenya giggles in your ear, “Wanna head home?” The blush on your face magnifies tenfold; you know that Deku had to hear that as he passed by to say goodnight. Your eyes go wide and you tilt your head back, but Tenya is nothing if not smug. You allow you mind to wander for a second and you swear that he meant for Izuku to hear him. “Sure, but you’re not driving,” you mutter, grabbing him by the wrist. 

fic: going rogue word count: 949 rated: g warnings: none! ship: tenya iida x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “just tell me why you did it! because i love you!” + you caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out summary/excerpt: “Now is not the time to be self-righteous, Iida!” You step closer, your knees knocking into the iron railing of the hospital bed, “You are going to face charges! This wasn’t a sanctioned mission, you practically went rogue! Just tell me why you did it!” What comes out of his mouth next is not something you ever could have guessed or suspected.

fic: stranded on a rooftop word count: 587 rated: g warnings: none! ship: keigo/hawks x reader prompt/scenario/trope: keigo + “soft smile before leaning in for a kiss” summary/excerpt: “Not a problem, sweetheart,” his thumb notches underneath your chin, keeping your attention no matter how much you want to look away. “I love helping out a sweet little damsel in distress.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[come-on-shitty-boys]

The Soldier. Miya Atsumu

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2K

Notes:  The first installment to my mini-collection entitled “Soldier, Poet, King,” inspired by the song of the same name by The Oh Hellos.  That song really makes me want to dance in a meadow of wildflowers in a white flowy dress, no front.

June 28

My love,

I pray that this letter finds you well.  The months that have drifted by where I have not been able to see your smile have caused nothing but heartache.  But, the prospects of seeing you once again fills me with even more determination to come home to you.  Each night that passes is one night closer to this war being over and one day closer to being by your side again.  

I sense that this will draw to a close soon.  There is talk amongst the troops that our final attack will be launched within the coming months after the adequate preparation is made.  I hope that you think of me during these trying times.  Knowing that I have crossed your mind for even an instant is enough to stay alive.  My love, I wish to return to you as soon as possible.  We can finally seal our love and begin a new life together, that’s a promise.  Please know that I think of you each minute of every day.  You are in my head at this very moment while I scribe this letter to you.  Waking and asleep, I yearn only to have you in my company once more.  

I hope that you write back quickly.  While I am many miles from you, these letters that carry the faintest hints of your perfume are my only piece of you.  It is nothing compared to the real thing, but I will gratefully take what I can.  Until the next, my love.

                                                                                                Yours,

                                                                                                 Miya Atsumu

The small piece of parchment is folded and slipped back into the drawer of a nightstand where it will wait to be read again the next day.  The ink had begun to fade, the edges worn from constant handling.  It had been nearly three months without any sort of communication from your beloved.  There had not been a single letter come through the post with your name written across the envelope in his messy script, but every day you still ran out to greet the postman, that tiny light of hope still shining brightly within you, even if only for a few moments.  But, it would only be diminished as the mail was handed to you and just as it had been for the past three months, the postman would smile sadly, knowing just as well as you did that there was no letter from Atsumu.  

Your heart kept repeating over and over that he was fine, that maybe he was so busy getting ready for the end of the war that he didn’t have time to write to you.  Maybe his letters were getting lost in the mail and there were half a dozen envelopes with your name on them sitting in a pile of letters.  But, even you knew that that was a far stretch of the imagination.  The others who had found love in the arms of military men had been hearing from their own sweethearts.  It was the height of conversation during every encounter.  “Have you heard from him?” “Yes!  I just got a new letter last week.  And you?  Has he written to you?” And each conversation was only met with a saddened expression when you explained that, no, he hadn’t written to you in a while.  You were always assured with a delicate embrace that he would write soon, but as time ticked by, those reassurances began to make you feel worse and worse.

He promised that he would be back.  He promised to make you happy, grow a life with you.  If there was one thing you knew better than anything, it was that Miya Atsumu never broke his promises to you.  But, that heavy feeling that you found sinking further and further in your stomach each night was becoming difficult to ignore.  Each day that passed without a word from him was just another day where you came closer to believing the worst.  Surely, though, if something had happened to him, someone would’ve told you.  One of his friends from the military would’ve written to you or, at the very least, you thought that Osamu would’ve told you about how his brother was doing, but there was nothing.  No one was able to inform you of Atsumu's condition and the unknown was eating away at you with every passing hour.  

Still, you clung onto the lingering promise that was beginning to fade from the parchment.  He would be back.

But, then another moon passed and your reality began to sink in.  You had unfolded and read that final letter so many times, the creases beginning to rip from the wear.  There were smudges in the lingering ink where shaky sobs had fallen to the parchment in the privacy of wavering candlelight.  You would grow old all on your own, your one love being buried in the ground with thousands of other men who had fallen on the battlefield at such a young age.  

“Have hope.  My Kita says that the war is coming to a close.”

But, it was so very easy to have hope when there was something telling you that he was alive and well.  How were you to continue holding on to this idea that was kept trying to fly away from you?  While the dove flittered away, a large raven loomed behind you.  How could you possibly focus on keeping the dove in your grasp with the chilling gaze of the raven’s beady eyes boring into your soul, constantly reminding you of its presence?  You couldn’t, no matter how much you struggled to keep that little white bird contained, it kept slipping out of your hands, leaving you with the scary alternative.  

Each day became harder to bear.  Each day that passed where you couldn’t hear Atsumu’s warm laughter, see his lazy gaze that never failed to be so full of adoration for you, each day that he wasn’t bringing your hand up to his lips in a kiss, one that told the world that you were his while still abiding by the social norm, was like living another day in your own personal hell.  To share those hasty kisses in the privacy of your home, but still not letting lips be attached for long in fear that someone might see an unmarried couple engaged in such a taboo act of love, the feeling of his lips pressed against your own in such fevered declarations of his fondness for you felt like a dream that had happened one too many eons ago.  The knot that grew in your chest with each thought of him brought your sobs closer to surfacing all over again.  But, rather, you choked them all away, keeping your head high in a way that you knew would make you Atsumu proud.  You could almost hear his low chuckle, feel his hand patting your head gently, “You’re really something, aren’t you?  Always so confident.  You’ll be fine without me for a little while, princess.”

The thought alone was enough to make you snort.  If only he could see inside your mind right now, see that you were anything but fine as the worst possible outcome played over and over, never pausing to give you a break.  The image of Miya Atsumu laying out in the heat of a battlefield, bloodied and wounded, trying to fight for one more breath kept weaving its way into your mind, but it always ended the same way.  Those bright brown eyes that always held an air of excitement would fall dim, his toned chest would struggle to rise and inevitably fail, head lolling limply to the side as a fellow platoon member closed his eyelids for the last time.

“I hear that the soldiers are returning this week,” Ayaka said as she sat across from you one afternoon, the tea cup rising to her lips.  You hadn’t touched your own cup.  It still sat on the table in front of you, two sugar cubes waiting to be stirred in.  Your thoughts had been gnawing at you non-stop, but this prospect-

He could be coming home.

It brought the dove back into reach, even if only for a moment.  You were able to forget about that steady gaze of the raven, focusing solely on the white bird that had returned to you.  

“Do you know when?”

“Thursday, I believe.  My sister and I plan on coming into town to greet them.  Would you care to join us?  Even- even if he’s not there, you could at least get a sense of closure.”

You didn’t want to think about the possibility of Atsumu not marching along the ranks of men, you just wanted to see him one more time, to tell him that you loved him all over again.  But, even as you weighed the idea that your friend could be right about his fate, you found yourself nodding in agreement to her proposal.

The letter had been read three more times, each night ending with clutching that wrinkled piece of parchment to your chest, wishes made to some nameless being in hopes that he would come back to you.  “Please. . .”

Blue military jackets adorned by weary looking men lined the streets, people smiling and cheering that their loved ones had returned home after such long months of being gone.  Ranks were broken as people rushed to the awaiting arms of their families, but as much as you scanned the rows, you couldn’t find that familiar blonde hair poking out from under the issued cap.  Each row that passed had you slinking further into yourself, the truth bringing that all-to-familiar tug at your heart.  

“‘Samu, give me that!  You’re just being an ass, come on!” 

“If you want it so badly, come get it.”

“How?!”

The tears flowed down your cheeks for a whole new reason.  At the very end of the ranks, a group of men were clustered together.  They all fared worse than the others.  Some were missing limbs, most were just covered in bandages, deep stains of red contrasting against the stark white.  Bringing up the very rear, a young man bickered with another, desperately reaching for the wooden crutch that was being held just out of reach.  

“Atsumu!”

That beautiful sound was the only thing he wanted to hear.  His name from your lips.  It had his heart racing and a wide toothy grin spanning across his features.  The gunshot wound on his thigh throbbed with each crutch-less limp in your direction, but he didn’t even care.  You were running towards him, slowing only enough so that your momentum didn’t take him to the ground.  Arms flung around his neck, his easy laughter being the only sound in your ears.  It felt just so surreal, the soldier finally returning to the arms of his beloved.

“I was so worried about you,” you whisper, burying your head in the shoulder of his uniform.  

“I know, princess.  But they wouldn’t let me write to you or anyone else while I was in the hospital.  If I could have, I would have sent you a hundred letters to remind you just how much I love you.”  Atsumu leans away from you, wincing as he tries to place weight on his injured leg, but despite the pain, he takes your hand in his.  Lazy brown eyes never leave your face as he brings it to his lips, a loving kiss placed to your knuckles.  There’s no denying the happy smile on his face as he lets you caress his cheek.

“I made a promise to you, princess.  And I don’t break my promises,” he starts, reaching up to lay his hand over yours.  “I can’t wait to marry you, princess.”

[lovelyirony]

Through flames and oceans (for the fic title)

u know. this was supposed to not go the direction it did. but it did. 

People say they will do a lot for love. They will walk through flames, cross an entire ocean for love.

Bruce tells himself that that’s the stupidest fucking thing people say. He, for one, will not do that. There is also the unspoken reason of that love really isn’t in the cards for him.

Currently, he’s running away from his ex-girlfriend’s dad, General Ross, because he may or may not have done some experimentation and turned into a rage monster, but also revealed some state secrets.

Come on, can you blame him? Cosmo said twenty-year-olds need to accomplish something before they hit thirty. And he’s quite sure he just made the list.

But as for love, he is thinking about it right now because his ex-girlfriend found a very nice girl named Valkyrie, and they’re kind of set to have an engagement party, and “would you please come to the United States to help us celebrate?”

Betty is a wonderful woman, really and truly. And Bruce is okay with how their relationship ended, because it’s not like Bruce could come to family dinner and expect anything besides murder or maybe cold potatoes. And Betty deserved someone far better than him, and from the picture that was sent, it looks like Valkyrie is an amazing catch.

But there is the small matter of making it to the States without getting caught. He is on quite a lot of “no-fly” and “travel restrictive” protocols. This sucks, by the way. He had frequent flier miles saved up and everything.

It sucks, at least, until he remembers Tony’s number and calls it.

(Tony had given him his number, but sometimes he forgets that four and nine are two distinctly different numbers.)

“Brucie, baby! What can I get for you? Don’t worry, the government hasn’t been able to tap my phone calls since I was seventeen and mostly joking about finding out where their secret weapons storage is.”

“Betty’s having her engagement party, and I’m invited. I kind of need a ride home.”

“Where are you located at, right now?”

“Buenos Aires.”

“You lucky son of a bitch, god I miss it there. You having a good time?”

“When I’m avoiding government agents, yes.”

“Hm, well i’m sending a new employee of mine to go and get you. Big guy, probably Swedish.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t presume if someone’s Swedish or not, Bruce. I’m a terrible person, but not that terrible.”

“I...I don’t follow your sense of humor.”

“No one does, that’s why celebrities call me avant garde and ahead of my time.”

“Good to know. What’s your new guy’s name?”

“Thor.”

“Are you...are you fucking with me?”

"Darling, you’d be having a much better time if I was.”

“I don’t like the energy we’re manifesting here,” Bruce deadpans.

Tony snorts. “Okay, hippie. He’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Just stay tight where you are, sugar.”

-

Thor is a gigantic man. He parts crowds like it’s what he was meant to do, and maybe it is. Bruce stares up at him.

“Hello Dr. Banner,” Thor says, smiling gently. “You are Dr. Ross’s friend, right?”

“Um...yeah. I am.”

“Excellent. I’m a friend of Valkyrie’s, is it okay if I go ahead and fly out to the airport nearest their house?”

“Uh, is Tony okay with that?”

“Of course. And we can stop at your house if you need anything.”

“Oh, I don’t have a house. Or an apartment. You would not believe how much the US government hates my credit score.”

Thor chuckles a little bit, leading him back to a nondescript car.

“Right this way.”

-

Thor is cool as a cucumber on the outside, as they’re driving. He’s mindlessly tapping on his phone as Bruce stares out the window.

Inside? Oh, Thor hates Val for this. So much.

so, you didn’t think to send me a picture of dr. banner? just the address?

lmaooooo called it. betty owes me something now. fuckin nerd. just ask him out.

no. we still have to bypass american security

which you are “old hat” at. or did i forget that you nearly almost charmed the pants off of one of the airline people?

we don’t speak of that.

relax. stark’s taking care of it anyway.

The airplane ride home is uneventful, thank god. One of Tony’s jets awaits, and the pilot is very surprised to see a man who ranks number four on America’s Most Wanted List to be there.

“You...you know Tony?”

“And you know what an NDA is,” Tony announces over the intercom. “Bruce, welcome. Mimosas are premade, in stock. Sit back and enjoy the ride! Thor, you do what you gotta do to make sure Bruce stays safe. Enjoy the bridal shower!”

The pilot is a bit apprehensive. But mostly okay. Bruce promises nothing’s going to happen, he’s just going to drink tea and catch up on news about the current state of things.

Bruce gets bored with finding out that things are still terrible, so he talks to Thor.

“So...are your parents just really into Norse mythology, or did they know you’d come out a huge guy who has the potential to probably stop Ragnarok?”

Thor chuckles, the laugh rumbling and deep.

(Okay, that’s hot.)

"My parents’ names were Odin and Frigga. You could say they were traditionalists when it came to my brother and I.”

“You mean...?”

“He embodies the name a bit too well for my taste, but yes.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah. Let me tell you about the time we accidentally crashed a fashion week thing...” 

Bruce laughs a lot about that story. Thor’s laugh is majestic, and they sit a little bit closer. 

-

By the time the plane lands, they’re great friends and Thor reaches over Bruce in the baggage area and wow that man has very defined muscles. 

Not that that’s important. No, that’s like. Not important at all. So what if Thor is very well-muscled and maybe this will play into Bruce’s intrusive thoughts/daydream thoughts at later intervals? Does not matter. At all. 

(Oh god the man smells like salty ocean air Bruce has got it so so bad. So Bad.) 

- 

Tony greets them at the landing pad with a wide grin, eyes lighting up. 

“Well, don’t you two make the happy couple,” he teases. Bruce turns red. This does not go unnoticed. 

“Bruce, honestly, you run away from government and my friendship, and this is what gets you--” 

“A bridal shower? To get me home? Yes,” Bruce says, cutting in not-at-all smoothly. “Now, where are Betty and her bride staying at?” 

“Oh, they’re staying at the cutest little bed and breakfast for their bridal shower. Rented out the whole thing--well Pepper did, it was our wedding gift to them, and of course I mean Pep’s wedding gift, because I have something else planned-” 

“Please tell me that you do not have a house bought for them,” Thor says. 

“Complete with a laboratory and gymnasium,” Tony says with a wink. “I’m kidding, they already have a house. I just kind of kicked them out for a week while I remodel their entire kitchen. Val gave me the colors, I was surprised that she has taste.” 

“If she hears you say that, she’ll kick your ass.” 

“Which is why she won’t,” Tony reminds Thor. “Now, let’s get to unpacking. Bruce, I’m getting you some good shampoo, holy shit your hair sucks.” 

“Thank you Tony, I love and value our friendship and our kindness towards each other as well,” Bruce deadpans. 

“Oh come on, you have to look good. It’s your ex’s wedding party!” 

“You make us sound so dramatic,” Bruce says with a snort. “We broke up. Big deal.” 

“You and Betty...?” Thor asks. 

“Yeah, but it’s fine. We were dating, and then I pissed off her dad, who happens to be a general. I mean, also the government. But mostly her dad.” 

“Wow.” 

Thor’s type shouldn’t be feral scientist. But it is. 

They’re led inside, and Tony bids them goodbye. 

“Duty calls,” Tony says airily, waving. “Make yourself at home, don’t put coffee grounds down the disposal or I will kick you out. Rogers is still nursing his wounds.” 

“Noted,” Bruce says. 

“I drink tea,” Thor answers. 

Bruce shares a look. 

“You too?” 

“Yeah, I prefer it over coffee most of the time.” 

Bruce smiles. 

“I think we’re going to get along.” 

- 

They have a couple of days until the wedding party, and Thor has never seen New York. Bruce is fairly sure that no one will even see him on the CCTV footage as long as he’s walking next to Thor, so he deems it good enough to go and get a bagel. 

Thor is a very gentle man. That’s a good quality. 

He smiles at a little girl, who is staring, open-mouthed. Even gives her a little wave. Bruce grins. 

“You like kids?” 

“I do. They mostly just want to have fun, want to see what the best of the world is. I think we all need that occasionally.” 

“I’ve never thought of that,” Bruce confesses. He takes a sip of his coffee.

“I love watching my cousins,” Thor continues. “The way they grow and figure it all out, it’s rewarding. What about your family?” 

Bruce freezes. 

“Um. I don’t exactly have a family.” 

“Then you’ll just have to meet some of my cousins,” Thor amends, smiling as he sips his drink. “You’d like them.” 

“I’d like that,” Bruce says, grinning. “What’s next on our New York agenda?” 

"I told Loki I’d visit some stores for him and pick up some items he’s been wanting.” 

-

Have you ever seen a sales associate from Chanel be terrified at your presence? No? It’s worth it. 

Bruce is kind of concerned. 

“I...are you...?” 

“My name is Robert, uncanny similarities,” Bruce responds. “We both were born in Ohio.” 

“Why is it always Ohio,” Thor mutters. “You reckon my brother would want this shoe or that?” 

“Ooh, definitely go with the heel. I think that’s good.”  

“Gotcha.” 

Next shop is Dior. 

This goes a bit out of hand. His whole line about being Robert with Incredible Similarity does not go as planned. 

He and Thor are on a subway, currently running away from some authority figures and calling Tony. 

“I was in the middle of learning drama about high society that I can use in my next romance novel, are you joking?” Tony hisses. 

“You write romance novels?” Thor asks. 

“Now is not the time to question that, I’m in the middle of making sure you get a car to your next stop. How well do you both know what a Chrysler is?” 

“The building, right?” 

“God, I hate you so much,” Tony groans. “No, um...it looks like the wing things that they give army people when they do something that I guess they think is cool.” 

“Oh. Okay. Get in that car?” 

“Yes. It’s gonna be red with silver detailing.”

“Tony, they’re gonna know it’s us.” 

“Believe me, they won’t. Trust me.” 

- 

So as it turns out, it’s not the most ostentatious vehicle. 

Because Tony pulls up in a lifted pick-up truck, painted a sparkling, neon green with bright orange wheels. 

It is the ugliest goddamn thing Bruce has ever seen. Also the most effective. 

Thor nearly shoves Bruce into the car, and they’re sitting too close, and Bruce probably shouldn’t be focusing on the fact that Thor’s hair is now artfully messy, but here he is. Doing that. 

“So, sorry that before the wedding shower we’re being hunted down by the government.” 

“Not the worst thing that I could be doing on a Friday,” Thor says with a shrug. “I think you’re just about the most interesting person I’ve met, Bruce.” 

He smiles at him. Bruce’s heart skips a beat. He can’t tell if it’s because of the eye contact or the fact that they’re in close proximity. Maybe both. 

“You wanna go on a date after all this?” Bruce blurts out. 

He does. And as soon as he says it, he kind of regrets it because they’re in a car with glittery silver interior seats and he’s also in pants that have seen better days, and his hair is a Mess. 

(Also self-esteem issues, but Bruce is used to that so he’s not counting it.) 

“Like, after we get home or when the government gives up on finding you?” 

“I don’t know. Whichever one comes first?” 

“Technically, I think I count as army jurisdiction, and military budget is a fountain of money.” 

“Ah. Then home it is. How do you feel about ordering in?” 

“Mm, sounds good,” Bruce says, grinning. “You’re the best.” 

“Well, I certainly try,” Thor says, grinning right back. “You wanna go to Betty and Val’s shower together?” 

“Yes. Do we have to amend our ‘how-we-met’ story?” 

“Not at all. Valkyrie used to run an underground fight ring. She knows the feeling.” 

“How has that not come up in conversation?” 

“We were kind of preoccupied trying to figure out what a Chrysler car looked like.” 

“Oh, true.” 

- 

At the wedding party, Bruce and Thor are very happy. Betty and Val roll their eyes and laugh as they talk. 

“Leave it to my dad to ruin everything,” Betty gripes. 

“Well he didn’t ruin this party or my meeting Thor,” Bruce defends. “Besides, you know what happens if he steps a foot near you.” 

Betty grins. 

“You serious?” 

“Can’t promise you’ll get your security deposit back, but yes.” 

Betty pulls him into a hug. 

“You’re too sweet to me.” 

“Yeah, tell me that after he steps on the limousine.” 

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry,” Thor says, grinning. “I think Tony has some sort of security feature worked in.” 

“Oh, he does,” Val says. “He’s threatened to pull some of the contracts for safety gear. Won’t go through with it, but Ross can’t touch the wedding. Best gift ever.” 

- 

When the party gets late, Thor and Bruce are sitting out on the porch. Clean-up is happening, and they’re taking a break. Thor thinks that Bruce has never looked more beautiful in a rumpled yellow shirt, soft lights making his face glow. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Thor murmurs, moving a stray curl. 

“Really?” Bruce asks, smiling softly. “I think I’m glad I met you too.” 

- 

Bruce grins behind his door when they make it home. Thor had kissed him on the cheek, and while that wasn’t too big of a deal, it was a big deal to him. 

“See you in the morning, dear,” Thor had told him. 

He was going to be up half the night with that line running through his head. 

- 

A lot of people do a lot of things for love. Bruce still wouldn’t walk through flames, or swim across an entire ocean, but he’s starting to understand. 

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars | xiii

Read the full story here...

xiii: two strangers in the bright lights

I wish I knew you when I was young,

we could’ve got so high.

Now you’re here it’s been so long,

two strangers in the bright lights.

-The Revivalists, “Wish I Knew You”

The revelry of the races last night helped bring Jon a sense of normalcy. As though they’d never traveled south and all of the revelations and situations were just fever dreams. However, they shouldn’t have stayed out as late as they did. When he awoke at his habitual time, the world felt heavier. He still pulled himself away from his bed so he could finally go on his run without the threat of anyone intruding.

He stuck to his usual route, a few laps around the exterior castle walls so he could keep in sight of the stationed guards atop. It was easier than being trailed through the Wolfswood. Running alone allowed him to hold off the bigger issues plaguing his life and focus on the small details; the way his feet fell on the frost covered grass, the rhythm of his breathing, the way the chilly morning air bit at his face.

Wanting to steer clear of the Great Keep as much as possible, he entered through the Hunter’s Gate on the west side of the castle when he finished. What awaited him was person number two on the long list of people he was trying to avoid. His father being number one at the moment.

The Princess Daenerys was seated at the little wooden table where kitchen staff took their breaks, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug. She looked up when he entered. 

“Good morning,” she said, her voice even.

It made Jon pause. He was expecting a little more resentment and coldness.

“I didn’t take you for an early riser,”

“I’m not usually,” she admitted, “But I try to make it a habit.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear before carefully sipping from her mug. She pulled her knees up to her chest and Jon saw the fuzzy socks patterned like tabby cat paws on her feet. Matched with her red and black flannel pajama bottoms and green Braavos Titans sweatshirt, she looked more like an absent minded eccentric than a polished princess. She looked more approachable and human.

“Nice socks,” he nodded and leaned against the counter.

“Oh.” The princess glanced down as though she’d forgotten what pair she had on.

“Uh, thanks. Did you have a nice run?”

He furrowed his brows at her.

“You came in here sweaty and breathing hard, so I assumed that’s where you’d been,” she stated, motioning to the obvious sweat mark on the front of his shirt.

“Yeah, it was … a good run.”

A few members of the kitchen staff filed in to prepare breakfast for the rest of the court, who were starting their days too.

Jon knew it was best to get out of their way. While he ranked higher than them, they weren’t afraid to get nasty if he stood between them and their tasks. He sat in the other chair, watching as the workers busied themselves and tried not to stare too long at the foreign visitor and prince conversing.

“Why are you really up this early?”

“I can’t enjoy my coffee in the solitude of an empty kitchen at the ass crack of dawn?” she rolled her eyes at the absurdity of her statement, a light smile peeking over the edge of her mug.

Jon’s face betrayed him with the grin it displayed at her sarcastic comment.

“Actually, I’m trying to enjoy some peace and quiet before Sansa gets ahold of me. I think she’s got every minute until we leave booked.”

At that moment, a very distinct head of copper hair entered the kitchen, gazing over the tops of the workers heads almost frantically. 

“Speak of the stranger,” she muttered, sliding her mug out of the way.

Sansa was by her side immediately, already talking about all that she had planned.

They were on the move before he knew it, on their way to the foothills of the Northern Mountains for the Midsummer celebrations. The huge festival was attended by lords and common folk alike. It had what all the Northerners loved, tradition. Traditional music, food, clothing, and even traditional dancers. Although they were professionals hired by the festival planners, that never stopped a few drunken lords from joining in. 

After her bonding experience with the Starks last night, Daenerys was fitting right in. Jon hadn’t seen the Princess Daenerys since their run in that morning but her and Sansa’s laughter could be heard throughout the castle. The reason for their jovialness was evident when they’d gathered to leave. Sansa had turned the woman into her own fashion doll.

The festival and its focus on tradition meant that Sansa got to break out the traditional dress. The woolen skirt she wore was starched white with lines of grey and pale green criss-crossing over it, the colors of House Stark. A sash of the same fabric crossing over her blouse and secured at her waist with a brooch the shape of the Stark direwolf.

She’d given their guest nearly the same treatment. She’d dug a similar length wool skirt out of somewhere, but the one Daenerys wore was a deep blue and devoid of any lines of other colors. A safe bet, since it wouldn’t be confused with any other House’s pattern. Her white hair was braided in its usual way but they were woven into a different pattern, forming a shape akin to a heart. If it weren’t for her light hair and odd colored eyes, she would look every bit a true Northerner.

Jon was assigned the task of escorting their guest around the festival and ensuring all introductions went smoothly. He asked Sansa to stick close by just in case, she was a natural at turning any awkward situation out. But they found that her services were needed. Only kind pleasantries were exchanged so far and Daenerys appeared to be charming everyone she met with ease. 

As they were leaving yet another Lord and Lady behind, Daenerys took note of a young girl passing around wreaths made of flowers. When the young girl stopped in front of them, the Princess immediately bent down to meet her at eye level.

“Hello,” Daenerys greeted.

The young girl curtseyed and wordlessly held one of her creations out to the woman in front of her. A wreath of small blue flowers interspersed with white and green, shiny blue ribbons binding the whole thing together.

They weren’t too far from the dancers, Jon noticed. The sounds of pipes and fiddles drifting toward them. 

“For me?”

The young girl nodded again, holding the flowers out further. Daenerys took it from the girl with delicate hands and examined it.

“Did you make this?”

Nod.

“It’s very beautiful but I’m afraid I don’t know how to wear it,” Daenerys frowned.

Jon feared for a second that she was going to return the wreath to the little girl. But she surprised him yet again.

“I would be honored if you put it on for me,” she smiled and gracefully bowed her head.

The little girl placed the ring of flowers atop Daenerys’ braids, her round face growing red.

“Thank you very much.”

The little girl curtseyed again and ran off to find her mother. Jon was floored by this woman, who at one moment was as poisonous as a snake and yet as gentle as a cloud the next.

Similar interactions followed wherever they went. While Jon held onto his belief that she was playing a part that she’d rehearsed so well it was believable, he found his stubborn grasp slipping with each person they encountered.

Jon heard the music change and watched as Sansa grabbed Daenerys’ hand.

“Come on,” Sansa said excitedly, “I want to dance.”

As she was dragged away, Daenerys looked back over her shoulder, a nervous smile on her face. At least there wouldn’t be any introductions for a while.                                                                      

It was later when he found himself talking with the patriarch of Clan Norrey, a tankard of summer ale in his hand. The old reels of the North filled his ears thanks to their proximity to the band. He chanced a glance at the dancers. The professionals were on break, so it was just common folk and lords swinging each other around with the sun burning behind them.

During one of the passes, a flash of white hair caught his eye. He watched as Daenerys was spun by Sansa before switching directions and ending up in the arms of a large man. Jon recognized him as Lord Umber. Who was oddly graceful despite his size, age, and drunkenness. There were words exchanged between them and whatever the Princess said had the GreatJon roaring in laughter before she was spun off. 

The music ended with a flourish and the dancers all bowed to each other, applause and cheers rising into the air. 

“She sure is something, that Southern girl.” Old Norrey commented.

“You have no idea,” Jon replied.

“What would a city girl like her want to come up here for?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself,” he lied.

“I hate to say it but I hope she sticks around.”

Another song started up, the laughter of the festival goers rising above the music as they started dancing again. 

“What are you doing standing here talking to me for? You should be out there dancing-”

“I’m not a dancer,”

“-and wooing the next Queen of the North.”

Jon wondered how Old Norrey would react if he told him the future queen was already spinning herself dizzy with the other ladies. And that she was the southern girl he was so impressed with. The old man would probably have a heart attack. Daenerys visiting the North was one thing, but marrying it was a whole other beast.

Jon was about to make another remark about their guest, when she bounded up to him, breathless from the dancing.

“I need to talk to you,” she announced, gravity in her breathless tone.

“Okay…”

She looked at Norrey and back to Jon, “Alone, preferably.”

Jon nodded despite his confusion and led her away from the crowded space, towards the edges of the festival. With less people and less activity, it was more quiet and calm. As they walked, Jon noted the sturdy boots she wore. 

They walked in silence for a while, Daenerys’ gaze fixed straight ahead. She’d taken the ring of flowers from her head, holding it in her hands. He could tell she was trying not to fidget with it. Finally, she took a deep breath.

“I believe I owe you an apology,” she started.

Jon was taken aback, “For?”

“To quote you, being a raging bitch.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and found she was doing the same.

“I was really overwhelmed with everything and I took it out on the wrong person. You didn’t deserve that. And I’d like to apologize for being so stubborn.”

“Really?”

They paused their stroll by one of the several bonfires burning across the stretch of land. The flickering orange light washed over Daenerys’ features, the blank canvas of her hair taking on the lively color.

“Well, there’s a little more to it than that,” she looked at him for a moment.

Sensing her hesitation, Jon said, “Go on.”

“I know I’ve only been here a few days and there’s so much more to see of the North but it’s beautiful here. I’ve spent the last few years running around the world, trying to get away from the Southern Court, when this was right next door the whole time.”

  She looked around the landscape before she started walking again.

“Everyone keeps asking me if I’m actually going to marry you,” she commented.

“Everyone?”

“Well, the Queen, Arya, Theon, Talisa. And my answer was always, I don’t know. This whole treaty ordeal is tricky and my brother will make it happen one way or another, but I thought I could figure a way out. But sometime last night, I started thinking, what would happen if I just bit the bullet? What would happen if I dropped my weapons and stopped fighting?”

“What are you saying?”

“The North is the only place I’ve felt like no one’s watching my every move. No one cares if I swear or talk too loud or slide down the hallways in my socks!”

“Wait, you weren’t allowed to do that?”

“Technically yes. My handlers didn’t want me to feel like I had too many rules to follow so everything was just highly discouraged,” she informed in a stuffy accent Jon imagined belonged to one of her ‘handlers’.

“Got it. So you never did it?”

“Oh, I did it once. Then I got lectured and was too scared to do it again.”

Too scared? Daenerys didn’t seem like someone who was scared of anything.

“I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”

“You were talking about the alliance,” Jon reminded her. 

“Right. I wanted to tell you that I’m saying yes.” she took a deep breath. “I’m agreeing to the engagement.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what to say,”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll tell your father and my brother tomorrow morning. ”

Her voice lowered as a group of girls about Sansa’s age passed them by. They whispered excitedly once they thought they were out of ear shot.

“The common folk love you,” he commented.

“For now. Tomorrow, when the alcohol has worn off and the news is released they’ll turn on me. And your court already hates me. No matter how nice their words, I can see their true intentions in their eyes. They dislike me for the same reasons I am loved. Beauty, kindness, and the splendor of a foreign land.”

“But you’re not doing it for the people of the court,”

“Correct. I’m doing it for your people, who have charmed me beyond imagination.”

It wasn’t how Jon imagined a proposal might go. There was no romance to it, though the ambiance was certainly there. No ring, no ‘will you marry me’. He wished he could breathe easier but the previous weight on his chest had only been replaced with another. He’d done what he needed to do and was headed into unknown territory.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” he asked.

“Of course I am. I want to do what’s right, even if it means being married to you for the rest of my life.”

She nudged him with her shoulder, grinning at her own joke.

“Thank you for that,” he said, returning her attitude.

“Oh lighten up!”

“Daenerys-”

“And please, call me Dany, all my friends do.”

[tonks32]

Inktober #16 - Stargazing

This time going to Mass Effect with some M!Ryder and Cora Harper. This is been rolling around in my head for a while now with their story starting before Andromeda. It got a bit away from me....

  Life in the countryside of earth was a stark contrast to life on the Citadel. Scott was still trying to decipher if it was a good or a bad change. He knew it was a needed one at least. With his father stripped of his N7 rank and kicked out of the alliance, coupled with his mother’s sickness, the quietness of the Scottish countryside made things a tad bit easier to handle.

  That was something Scott was doing a terrible job at. Handling all of these life changes at once was overwhelming. His twin had her own way of dealing, meaning working her way through every man and bar insight. Scott almost envied his sister’s ability to numb herself. He scratched the stubbles along his jaw as he rearranged himself on the chair he dragged to the roof in order to watch the stars. He couldn’t sit still. He always had to be doing something to keep his mind busy.

  So, sitting and waiting for his mother to die, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it, killed Scott. Maybe he should be more like his-Alex. The stubborn bastard still worked around the clock in sheer desperation to save his wife. Scott never saw Alec so emotional before. Possible for the first time in his life, Scott could see how much his father truly loved his mother. It humanized him.

  “Knock, knock,” A voice came up from the open watch leading to the roof. “Anyone home?”

  “Cora?” Scott tried and most likely failed to keep the pleasure from his voice upon hearing hers.

  The blond poked her head through the open, one of her breath-taking smiles plastered on her face. “Expecting someone else, Ryder?”

  Scott sat up, spreading his legs until his fit hit the ground on either side of the lounge chair to make room for her to sit. “Well, nor er-I just thought…” He watched her climb onto the roof enamored by the way her body moved in the dim light. “I figured Sara would’ve dragged out onto the earliest shuttle to the city.”

  Cora, well aware she was under the intense gaze of the youngest Ryder, sat in the place he vacated. She hated seeing his blue orbs clouded with a storm of emotions. “Didn’t feel much up to the bar scene. She’ll text me if she needs back up. Besides.” Since she had the desperate urge to, she reached out to touch a hand to his. He jolted before relaxing under her touch. “I feel like I’m needed here more.”

  With you. Cora kept that last bit to herself.

  Tugging her hand upward, Scott pressed his brow against it. He’d know Cora for over two years now, being his father’s mentee, but also his twin’s best friend. And in that time, he’d grown quite fond of the biotic. She was beautiful. He doubted there wasn’t a man in the galaxy that would argue the point. Her beauty wasn’t what drew him to Cora. It was her strength in both her duty and her life as a biotic and the struggles that came with that caught hold of him. The sheer power coursing through her left him scared shitless and always wanting to be on her good side while he remained in awe of it.

  Then there was her sense of humor only a select few knew about. He was lucky to count himself among that small group. Her smile and the way her amber eyes would sparkle. They broadcasted every single emotion she was feeling. Not that she was shy about telling a person how she felt.

  Scott mentally shook himself before his thoughts could continue further and get him in trouble. Cora Harper was his friend and didn’t want to do anything to compromise or lose that.

  Cora ran her fingers through his disheveled ginger hair. She tried to keep her heart from rolling in her chest when he heard the smallest sigh of pleasure from him. “Talk to me, Scott.”

  “She’s getting weaker,” He whispered fighting another wave of tears. It was a wonder there was any left. All he did these days was cry. In private and far away from Alec lest his father would find another weakness to remind him of. But he knew here, with Cora, that he was safe to let it all out. He couldn’t do it without concerning his mother or facing Alec’s disapproval nor burdening Sara who was already hanging by a threat herself. Cora was becoming his anchor. Keeping him afloat in the sea of turmoil that was his life.

  “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.” Cora pressed her lips to his crown. Family was something she didn’t understand. Her biotics, along with their intensity, caused her parents to all but kick her to the curb. After a life of living in the slums, she joined the alliance in search of a purpose. For a place to belong and a family to fill the void. Nothing came close until she met the Ryder clan. In the short time, she’d known her, Ellen had been the mother she always dreamed of having. Adoring, Loving. Understanding. Even protective.

  Sighing, Scott brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Thank you," He whispered drawing away to look up at her. Amber eyes full of compassion and sorrow held his gaze. Scott fought the urge to lean forward. Friends. That's what they were. Only friends. "For being here."

  She gave him a soft smile. "You make it sound like a hardship."

  "Well..." Scott shrugged.

  "I always enjoy spending time with you," Cora confessed before she could think twice. But then again, they were to leave for Andromeda soon. A journey full of the unknown. This was not the time to leave things unsaid. "I always have."

  Scott grappled with surprise and keeping it from his features. That was something new. They joked and flittered, all harmlessly, with one another. Wasn't that all there was? Or perhaps things finally were shifting for them? Or, maybe, it was her way of comforting him. "Here." Hooking arm around her waist, Scott pulled her back flushed against him. He figured it was his imagination when he heard Cora's soft sigh. Scott gestured to the telescope next to the chair. "Take a look."

  Basking in the warmth of him, Cora leaned forward, peering through the lens. Stargazing was one of Scott's favorite past times. Especially now, since the Alliance cut him loose and wasn’t traveling through them. She knew that the only thing that helped him stay sane this far out into the country was the undistorted view of the night sky. "Andromeda," She whispered in awe. There it was. A small smudge in the dark sky. Someplace light-years away that in a month or two would be their new home.

  In six hundred years life as they knew it in the Milky Way would cease to exist. This very place would be completely unrecognizable. Cora wondered what it would look like. Even wondered more about the people, places, and the life that awaited them in their neighboring galaxy.

  Cora drew away to look up with her own eyes. "We set out on our journey and yet it still seems so farfetched. Impossible even."

  "Isn't that what the human spirit is all about?" Scott asked stroking his finger down the nape of her neck. She didn't jerk or bat it away on a laugh. The corner of his mouth curved. This was interesting. "Pushing the limits. Exporting the unknown?"

  "Regardless of the risks," Cora finished her mind going to all the brave explores that lead the charge in finding the new, no matter the cost. "Do you find yourself second guessing your choice?"

  That was a conversation that Scott didn't want to dive into tonight. Not after the emotion day he'd been through. "Can't second guess when I haven't been hustled into a stasis pod. Ask me then."

  Cora snorted but didn't push. He'd been through a lot tonight. Forced to watch his father argue over an AI's ability to infuse with an implant that he was sure could cure his mother. Cora knew that the heat was all one-sided. Alec, her mentor, was the universes' most stubborn ass. Of all species.

  "I should go," Cora whispered. "You look like you can use some rest."

  He tilted his head to the side. "Saying I look, bad Harper?"

  "No. Simply exhausted."

  "I feel it. Straight down to my bones." And it had nothing to do with the constant cold that hung in the Scottish air. "Cora?"

  The sudden bashfulness in his voice had the biotic looking up in bewilderment. He was always so sure of himself, arrogant even at times. To hear and see him so unsure, maybe nervous, left her wondering what he was going to say. If she was being truthful, it left Cora a bit hopeful. "What is it?"

  Scott fought the fiddle with the stings of his Initiative sweater. "I can't go downstairs." Where his father was feverishly working and his mother was slowly passing away. "Will you stay up here a bit longer?"

  She smiled. "As long as you need." Knowing what he needed without having him to say it, Cora shifted in that chair, snuggling up against him for comfort as much as warmth. "I'm here for you too, Scott."

  He laid his cheek against her hair. "And I'm forever grateful for it."

[impvarjack60]

21 Beefcake

I woke up in the same white room as before, and just as pain free. The mirror was already there this time, they knew I'd want to see the latest update of Michael 3.0. "Oh shit! She turned me into Hans!" Well, I didn't have his face, apparently she was still happy with the one I had, but my physic was all beefcake. I was maybe twenty five centimeters taller, and about fifteen centimeters broader at the shoulders. Clothes off again, just look at those pecks! Hmmm, junk looks the same. Guess she was OK with that, too.

Anna, you devilish fox you. She tricked the Masters into a rebuild of me. By letting me turn myself into a pile of garbage. It was a risky gambit, but it worked. Now I was a Man-Hunk. I looked like I could be a king. Now to become one.

"So what do you think of the new you, Michael?" Olaf was there in his role of guide once again. Apparently he's gotten used to the nudity. "Seems a bit much, so how long did this actually take?" The answer would blindside me. "Approximately one and a half of your years." "YEARS?!!" Oh my God no, what has she done? Lies, nothing but lies! I must remain calm, I don't want to show my hand to Olaf. "Please Prince Michael, we must leave, the Queen is anxiously awaiting you, and you do not want to make her angry." It's just as I feared, or worse.

________________________________________________

The shuttle made it's approach, and once again I couldn't see out. When it landed it made a metallic clang sound. We didn't land on dirt. The gate opened into a giant courtyard, with high walls which looked like poured concrete, large spired watch towers on the corners and a very large gate in the middle. I knew what I'd see before I turned around. Yep, nailed it. A medium sized castle, looking somewhat like the one in Frozen, but it was stark, no rosemaling could be seen, or any decor, banners, flags, and barely any windows.

"Ah, the future King has finally arrived. Well, look at you! Mm, Mm, Mm,... that's as fine a piece of horseflesh as I've ever seen!" Anna walked up to me and smacked me on the ass. What happened?, why did I agree to this? Oh yea, right. I was a ball of nothing before I left. She had me right were she wanted, helpless, and she looked positively evil. "Guards!, escort Prince Michael to my chambers. We have some 'business' to attend to."

My God! This is a horror, I must be dreaming. Rows of metallic automatons entered the courtyard from a small door in the castle. There would be no fight here, it'll have to wait. Two of the 'Clankers' broke ranks and grabbed me by the arms with a vise-like grip, I struggled only to show my displeasure. They looked like suits of armor, how fitting. As I was dragged into the castle, it gave me the impression of a prison. There were no decorations of any kind. Dreary brown walls, lit by fake torches. If the main foyer looks like this, then what do the dungeons look like? Did this place even have dungeons? Just then I heard the screaming,... guess that answers that question.

Monster. this woman has become a monster, and it's my fault. I seen this coming, and did nothing.

She acted like it was just a game, but it wasn't, it was a prelude to tyranny. I must stop her, but I must be patient, bide my time, and strike at the first opportunity. As I was led up the stairs, she made her first mistake. Being led down the hall to her bedchamber, I counted the steps and doors. I know were you live, bitch. The guards threw me in the room and locked the door. ________________________________________________________ I heard the key in the lock, and she entered. I saw two guards posted at the door. She had two orbs that followed her in, I guess I didn't want to know what they were programmed for. She was dressed similar to Elsa's ice dress, but it was all black, the slit going way up to her waist. The flowing cape didn't have snowflakes in it, they looked more like hourglasses, ugh,... The Black Widow. She had cut her beautiful hair very short, dyed it jet black. All meant to be very intimidating, of course.

My Anna. The bringer of death. And suffering.

"So what is this business? What do you want to discuss?" "I don't want you to say anything, big guy." "Anna, I don't......." "SILENCE!, you will refer to me as Queen Anna and you will take me right now, or I swear, I'll drag one of our 'subjects' from the dungeons, and flog one to near death every twenty minutes until you do!" Now I was angry, she turned this paradise into a jail, all with the help of the Masters, of course. I knew it was wise to not trust them. There was nothing I could do to help my people, except go thru with it. Fine. But she didn't say how she wanted it, and I was in the mood for a good ravaging.

I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and threw her face first on the bed. Then I took my left hand and pinned her down at the base of the neck. Bet ya' wished ya' hadn't made me so strong right now, huh bitch?! I ripped her cape off and raised her skirt, then tore off her tiny undergarments. Putting my hand between her legs I pulled her backside into the air. I also found out she was quite aroused, I wanted to stick that hand in boiling water, just to clean off the filth.

I took my pants off, and she didn't move. I climbed on top of her, pinning her head down with my foot, shoving her head far enough into the mattress to make it tough to breathe. I hammered her as hard and fast as I could, hoping her pleasure would be kept to a minimum, which wasn't a problem, it had been a very long time. I finished fast and messy. As I climbed off her, I hit her ass hard enough to leave a hand print, and knock her flat on the bed. I put my pants on and started to leave, the doors already opening. "I hope you enjoyed that one, Olaf,... and be sure to save me a copy."                 Then the guards escorted me to my 'room'.

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars

Read the full story on ao3...

and Wattpad, if you so wish...

vi: the damsels are depressed

American stories, faded before me.

I’m feeling hopless,

the damsels are depressed.

Boys will be boys, the, where are the wise men?

Darling, I’m scared.

-Taylor Swift, “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince”

The hairdresser lowered the silver tiara on top of Dany’s silk curls. Most of the tiaras in the Targaryen collection were intricate floral patterns dotted with diamonds but Dany’s was special.

Her tiara was geometric. A band of silver with a large pear shaped diamond set into it, surrounded by hundreds of smaller ones from the mines of Valyria. The pressure from the cataclysmic collapse of the Targaryen homeland a millennia ago created the most beautiful diamonds on the planet. The Targaryen royalty made it tradition to have the gems in all of their crown jewels. Dany was no exception. 

It was the opposite of all things a princess was supposed to be. Angular, intimidating, and cold. The tiara was commissioned for her sixteenth nameday, her official debut into society. The gala she planned for it was a testament to her excellent taste. All the best people, dressed in the best designers, and dancing to moody music in low lighting. 

The Annual Charity Gala was nothing like that. It was outdated courtiers dressed in antiquated fashion with nothing better to do than gossip about each other. All milling around under harsh lights and awaiting Rhaegar’s speech, indulging themselves in the expensive alcohol. 

She jutted her chin and pouted her lower lip, checking her lipstick in the giant mirror before her. It was bad taste to wear a red lip with a red dress, she knew, but she couldn’t resist, especially with the honored guests they were receiving. She needed a power move to show that even after her slight, she still demanded respect. Even from stuffy Northerners.

Missandei entered the boudoir dressed in one of Elia’s old gowns the seamstress did quick alterations on. Yellow, off-the-shoulder, the train of the dress extending from under her shoulders. Her curls framed her face, highlighting her gorgeous complexion. All of Dany’s old gowns were in soft, pastel hues and could never do Missy justice.

“You look stunning!” Dany cheered, wrapping her friend in another hug. 

“Thank you. Elia has good taste.”

“It’s too bad we can’t put you in a tiara.”

Tiaras were for royalty only and they were only worn at evening functions or important state events. Like important speeches, coronations, and weddings.To put Missandei in even a small one would cause the poor old patrons of the court to keel over where they stood.

The two girls laughed. Elia knocked at the door, stepping in cautiously when Dany called to her. 

She was wearing a pale sunset orange, the frothy chiffon embroidered with the stylized sun of House Martell. A tiara composed of the same golden suns was nestled in her long curls. She glittered in the low light of the room. 

“You two look beautiful,” she complimented, reaching up to adjust Dany’s tiara.

Elia looked at her with soft eyes, resting her hands on Dany’s bare shoulders.

“Thank you,” Dany smiled

“Rheagar wants to speak with you.”

“Now? But the gala’s-”

“He’s in his office. It’s very important so, please, don’t keep him waiting.”

Dany gave a sorry look to Missandei, “Duty calls.”

“I’ll keep our lovely guest company until you get back,” Elia promised.

She traveled down the hall, the lavish rug muffling the click of her heels. Dany’s apartments were on the north end of the palace, with Rhaenys’ rooms and the main guest rooms. Because Dany was still living in King’s Landing at the time of Aegon’s birth, his rooms were prepared at the south end of the complex; closer to Elia and Rhaegar’s apartments. She was surprised when she returned home and they hadn’t moved her to the family guest suites on the opposite side of the palace. 

The long hallway to Rheagar’s study had a wall of windows on one side and mirrors on the other. The interior designers wanted the unusually small walkway to feel as wide and grand as the others. 

She watched her reflection as she passed. A dangerous and proud woman ready to face the world. Ready to face her brother. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back, lifting her chin for good measure. 

The impressive door was open but she made sure to close it when she entered. From the way he didn’t look up from the papers on his desk, Dany knew he wasn’t excited about having her home.

“Dany, thank you for coming. It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.”

She spotted the tray of liquor on a table and made her way over. She needed to be a little buzzed before the party started and Rheagar kept the best scotch in his office for his important guests. Well, I am nothing if not important, she reminded herself with a pleased smile.

“How as Braavos?”

“Wonderful,” she deadpanned, pouring herself a glass of the potent alcohol. 

“Would you like water, Dany?”

The jab at her recent liquor fueled exploits didn’t go unnoticed.

“No, I much prefer a good glass of scotch. They don’t have this fine stuff in Braavos. Although, they do have a strong liquor from Lorath called vodka. It’s knocked me off my ass quite a few times.”

“I didn’t ask you here to talk about your drinking habits while abroad.” 

“Then why did you ask me here?”

Dany lowered herself into the wingback chair in front of his impressive desk. The same desk Dany hid under during games of hide and seek with Viserys. Rhaegar never played with them, he was always too busy with lessons.

It was strange how much Rhaegar looked like their father, poised behind the antique desk. He had silver hair like all of the Targaryens but his violet eyes were much darker.

“Galazza Galare contacted Baelish earlier today and told him that your little slip up was the work of photoshop. You got lucky this time but it’s not likely to change people’s minds.”

Dany couldn’t celebrate the news of her accident being manufactured. Not with Rhaegar staring her down. If anything, she held her breath in anticipation of what he would berate her for next.

“There’s still the fact that you were hanging on this… Daario Naharis. Do you have any idea what people will say?”

“You don’t have to worry about Daario. He’s just a fling. Nothing like the last time.”

“Dany, we can’t have you acting like this. The public will assume you’ve gone down the same path as Viserys. You had your freedom but it’s time to reign it in.”

Being compared to Viserys hurt and the tone of Rhaegar’s voice reinforced the image of their father. She’d never been the victim of one of his lectures on reputation but Rhaegar was subjected to them all the time. The need to protect the Targaryen name was ingrained in his brain like a bad tattoo. 

“I think you’re forgetting that I spent my time between semesters in Slaver’s Bay helping with the human trafficking crsis.”

“No, I didn’t forget that, but the negative aspects of your personality have taken the spotlight over all of your good deeds.”

Dany considered for a minute with a long drink. Other people said scotch burned on its way down but Dany only felt a tickle. Targaryen’s knew how to hold their alcohol. The last drop slid from the glass and into her mouth. She set the cut crystal down with an indignant sound and traced her finger around the edge.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Dany,” Rhaegar sighed.

“You called me home for a reason and it’s bigger than my reputation. So, spill it.”

Rheagar opened a desk drawer and pulled out an official looking manilla folder with the state seal printed on the front. It was a variation of the old Targaryen sigil. A single dragon with three heads, each representing a branch of the state intelligence agency, and a set of scales and a longsword grasped in its talons.

“A couple of months ago we received a message from King Eddard Stark of the North. He seeks an alliance.”

“An alliance?”

“Yes. He said the North suffered a low harvest and needs men to man the Wall before winter comes.”

Dany raised an eyebrow at him. Rhaegar was never good at getting to the point, a habit he learned from their father. He met her eyes and cleared his throat.

“I see this as a way to finally secure the North and eliminate the threat of war.”

“Okay…”

“So I offered him a marriage contract between our house and his.”

Dany’s hand tightened around her glass, dreading the next words out of Rhaegar’s mouth. “Between you and his heir.”

The expensive glass hurtled at his head. Rhaegar ducked in time but the cut crystal shattered against the ornate marble mantle behind him. She couldn’t stop herself. Part of the reason she always got into so much trouble was because she didn’t know when to stop.

“And you didn’t think to talk to me about it first,” she yelled.

There was no doubt her voice carried through the halls. She wasn’t known for holding her tongue and always vocalizing her distaste. The palace staff were used to her outbursts.

“Dany, please, sit down- “No! You can’t expect me to go through with this!”

Rheagar sighed and rubbed his temples, “I expect you to do what is right and put your family before yourself. When Aegon conquered Westeros he didn’t do it because of a silly whim, he did it to save his family. The same family that you and I are now tasked with preserving.”

“The Northmen pose no threat to us. And even if they did, we outnumber their forces.”

“I’m afraid they might be a greater concern than we originally thought.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The North is sparsely populated, which makes filling the ranks hard, but one of the great houses have been steadily building up their forces for some time. If the situation is as dire as King Eddard claims, we could expect him to utilize these forces to attack our borders for resources.”

“I will not be your pawn.”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that there are some things bigger than you!” he slammed his palms on the desk. “Monarchy is dying, Daenerys. Everyday more people turn against us and you make it worse by acting like a common whore. Do you know what they say about us?”

For once in her life she was too stunned to speak. Rhaegar never lashed out like this. But she wouldn’t let him get to her. 

“Oh, let me guess! Those Targaryens are an outdated, a symbol of the old world! We’d be better off without them. And that Daenerys, she’s the worst of all, the filthy whore,” Dany spat.

She was in Rhaegar’s face, leaning over the desk. The tears burned and her throat was tight. Daenerys Targaryen does not cry, she assured herself as she inhaled a shaking breath. Her hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into her palms. She needed to punch something or someone, she needed to run. 

“This isn’t a foreign policy matter. It’s punishment for my behavior. Do you honestly think selling me off to a foreign country is going to silence the rumors about me?  

Rhaegar’s eyes softened with the realization of what he’d implied and he sunk into his chair.

“I don’t expect you to understand the delicacy of this situation but you need to acknowledge that you are a member of House Targaryen. The same regal house that has ruled over these kingdoms for hundreds of years. We do not let our personal feelings get in the way of duty.”

“That is so-”

“Like it or not, you belong to the Crown and when it calls, you answer.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I wouldn’t advise that.”

“Why not?”

He took a deep breath, clasped his hands, and looked her dead in the eyes, “I’ll disown you.”

She laughed but the stoic look on her brother’s face said it all.

“Oh, you’re serious. You’re going to disown me because I want to be viewed as a human being instead of a political bargaining chip?”

“It’s not an easy decision but if that’s what it takes.”

She clenched her jaw. 

Rheagar held the folder out. Dany scowled at her brother as she snatched it and retreated from his extravagant office in a huff, her red dress added to the dramatism of her exit.

He never apologized. Never. ‘It’s not a King’s job to apologize’, their father would say.

She found Elia and Missy in her boudoir, giggling over something on a phone.

“Did you know about this?” Dany demanded of Elia.

Elia’s dark brows furrowed in confusion.

“Did you know that Rhaegar sold me off for some alliance we don’t need?”

Elia sighed, “He asked me not to tell you. He knew you would react like this.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Missy questioned from the ottoman.

“I’m engaged.”

“Excuse me? You’re getting married and you didn’t tell me.”

“As the bride, I only found out minutes ago.”

Missandei balked, Dany’s same reaction. The tension in her limbs was back and the familiar urge to hit something burned in her. 

“Political business, I’m afraid,” Elia confirmed.

Dany handed the dossier to Missy, watching her face as she laid eyes on the official portrait of Prince Jon.

“Oh, he’s hot!”

Elia hummed in agreement, “He’s the Heir to the North. His country seeks an alliance with the United Kingdoms of Westeros. And he is handsome, you could do a lot worse.”

“So your brother arranged a marriage contract without your consent?”

“Yes and I will not be going through with it.” Dany took the file back so she wouldn’t have to hear anymore about her fiance’s looks. 

Her fiance. The word made her want to vomit. No, he wasn't her fiance, he wasn’t even a suitor. He was a minor inconvenience she needed to weed out.

She flipped through it unceremoniously before taking the official portrait from the paper clip and tossing the rest onto her bed. Elia reclaimed the papers.

“Three brothers, two sisters. He’s served in the military and was very successful in school,” she recited.

“And he’s hot,” Missy singsonged.

Dany considered the photo again. Despite his military time, his face still held the softness of youth. Arrogant and buoyant.

“He’s a legitimized bastard.” Elia pointed to the specific line.

Dany looked up from the photo, “That’s hardly appropriate. I’m the Princess Royal of the United Kingdoms of Westeros! I can’t marry a bastard, even a legitimized one.”

“He’s going to be a King,” Elia stressed, “Give the guy a chance.”

“I’ve spent six years in Slaver’s Bay making change, real change. And not by holding fancy galas and bullshit fundraisers but by getting my hands dirty. If I marry him, all of that goes away. I can’t go where I want, when I want…”

“Dany,” Missy spoke, “I agree with Elia, um- Her Majesty. You did all of that work, but only as a Princess. If you were a queen, you could do so much more. I’m sure they’d let you go to Slaver’s Bay and do your work.”

“But I’ll have so much security, my work would hardly be impactful. And I don’t know anything about their customs. I’ll just embarrass myself-”

“So? You’ll learn. You’re forgetting that Rhaegar and I’s marriage was arranged. I survived and you will too.”

“Not if I have anything to do about it!”

“Like it or not, this is life as a member of the royal family. You could abdicate but you know Rhaegar would never allow it and nobody likes a disgraced royal.”

Dany glanced back at the photo, still clutched in her hand. She hadn’t noticed how tight her grip was and relaxed her hand. Even with the crinkles in the photo she could see what Elia and Missy saw. She wasn’t blind. In his military uniform he looked dignified and strong. He looked worthy of a woman like Dany.

Unfortunately, looks didn’t determine a successful marriage. She would need to get him alone to determine if he was really worth the risk. 

“What do you think, Dany?” Missy prompted.

“Fine. I’ll give him a chance, but I’m expecting your help.”

Elia gave her a smile.

“What do we need to do?” Missy asked, excitement and mischief in her voice.

“Be my agents. Talk to him, gather more information, report back to me. I’ll make my move when I feel it’s right.”

An assistant poked their head into the room and reminded them that they needed to get into place for the gala. Missy had to leave with the assistant to go through the secret side entrance since she wasn’t an aristocrat. 

Elia and Dany found Rhaegar waiting for them, checking his watch. When he smiled at them, Dany could only scowl back. 

“It’s about time you two showed up.” he planted a kiss on Elia’s cheek. 

He placed his hands firmly on Dany’s bare shoulders, “Please, remember to smile.”

She shoved his hands off and he sighed. 

Elia swooped her into a tight hug and whispered, “I’m so proud of you, no matter what.”

When she pulled back she had the mom look on her face. The same one she gave Dany when she got into university or when Aegon took his first steps.

Rhaegar and Elia entered to monstrous applause but when Dany entered, she faced dead silence. Despite the number of people in the Grand Hall, the whispers echoed. And that Daenerys, she’s the worst of all of them, the filthy whore, she couldn’t stop the thought from coming back. She shook it off. She was the blood of the dragon, dragons do not care about the opinions of sheep. She didn’t need their approval. They were all jealous and petty.

Dany paused at the top of the stairs to survey the court. She spotted the newcomers immediately, situated in the furthest corner by a window. Her eyes caught on the eldest daughter’s hair before she saw the eldest brother and finally, her fiance.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized he was a real person. And the situation she was so sure she could get herself out of, felt even more impossible.