#the other dragonlords au

[havenlyd]

The seer

"I see things that nobody else sees."

Named after her uncle Viserys, Princess Viserra Targaryen is the daughter of the King Aegon III Targaryen and his consort, Queen Barba Bolton. The Princess Viserra was born in the last day of autumn in 138 AC.

The Princess is known to attend all the Faith of the Seven's sermons in public, though she prays to the Old Gods.

Viserra loves good wine and good conversation. She enjoys banquets, balls, and parties. She is not particularly fond of horseriding, preferring to use the carriage to travel.

She is often described as "happy" and "gentle", and would often be seen in the company of the Queen or her ladies-in-waiting. She loves cats and enjoys spending time with Lady Larra Rogare and her cats.

Though unsuspecting, Viserra plays a pivotal role in returning the glory of house Targaryen.

[larluce]

If all the Arthurs I created met each other

There's already a post with my Merlins meeting too here ➡︎ LINK

Arthur from "The Dragonlord's son series"🐉: I'm just saying, my Merlin is better than yours.

Arthur from my "Merlin as a familiar/shapeshifter falcon AU" 🦅: No, mine is better! He can shapeshift!

Arthur from my "Time travel AU" 🕐: (laughs) They all can shapeshift, boy. Don't believe yourself special.

Arthur 🦅: Don't call me boy! I'm 18! 😡

Arthur 🐉: So? We're in our 20's (pointing himself and Arthur🕐). We're older than you.

Arthur 🕐: I'm actually 40.

Arthur 🐉: What?!😨 But you don't look like 40.

Arthur 🕐: Well no, my body is 20 but my mind is 40. It's a long story.

12 year old Arthur from "From the grave to the cradle" ⛏️: (enters) Sorry, I was milking the cows. What did I miss?

Arthur 🦅: (pointing at Arthur ⛏️) See! That's a boy! (happy) I'm not the youngest anymore! Wait... (looks at Arthur ⛏️, confused) Did you say "milking the cows"?

Arthur ⛏️: Yes, I'm a farmer.

Arthur 🐉, Arthur 🦅 and Arthur 🕐: (shout, very surprised) A FARMER?!😱

Arthur ⛏️: (defensively, crossing his arms) Yes, and I'm very proud of it! 😠 What are you anyway?

Arthur 🐉: The prince.

Arthur 🦅: Me too.

Arthur 🕐: We're all princes, little one.

Arthur ⛏️: (shocked) I'm the only one who isn't royalty? (pouts) Awww, that's not fair. ☹️

Arthur 🐉: (kind of sad) Wait, does this mean Merlin is never going to be your servant?

Arthur ⛏️: (shouts, escandalised) Merlin is your servant?! 😨

Arthur 🐉: (relieved) Oh, so you do know each other. Good.

Arthur ⛏️: It is not!😠 How can you have your friend as your servant? That's horrible!

Arthur 🦅: Well, tecnically, in my case he isn't my servant, he's my pet.

Arthur ⛏️: WHAT?! 😱😡

Arthur 🦅: I mean... half-animal friend companion? 😅

Arthur 🕐: (To Arthur 🦅) You're not helping your case. (To Arthur ⛏️) I'm really curious, how did you became friends with Merlin?

Arthur ⛏️: (smiles) Oh, we've been friends since forever. We live in the same village.

Arthur 🕐: Which is?

Arthur ⛏️: Ealdor.

Arthur 🕐: (realising what happened to this Arthur) Oh, boy...

Arthur 🦅: (still confused) But... but you're from Camelot.

Arthur ⛏️: (ofended) No! I'm from Essetir. I would never associate with the likes from Camelot. They kill people like Merlin for sport! They are murderers!

Arthur 🐉: (starting to understand, increasingly disturbed) Arthur... Who are your parents?

Arthur ⛏️: Hector and Adeline from Ealdor, why?

Arthur 🦅: Those are not-

Arthur 🕐: (covers Arthur 🦅 mouth quickly)

Arthur ⛏️: (a little sad) I know they are not really my parents, but they adopted me when the real ones abandoned me as a baby. So I love them as if they were. (smiles brigthly) I wouldn't change them for anything, even if they are not royalty as yours. So the king of Essetir adopted you instead? That's so cool! Even if you have your friends as your servants.😊

Arthur 🐉: ...

Arthur 🕐: ...

Arthur 🦅: I'm going to tell him.

Arthur 🐉 and Arthur 🕐: Don't you dare! 😡

....

I reached 300 followers today, guys! Thank you so much! 🤧 I love you all 💕

[raviraaa]

[notozthewizard]

Has anyone ever done an au where Arthur's story goes kinda like Jack Frost's from Rise of the Guardians?

Arthur dies in a lake and although his physical body can't survive it, the lake's magic turns him into an immortal water spirit. He's not able to be seen by many but of course, Merlin being magic incarnate doesn't miss his presence.

Cue Arthur being distant and wary but warming up fairly quickly to Merlin. Them both being excited and talking about all the things they can do with magic. Merlin creating a cult to make Arthur stronger. And other shenanigans

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ … 99% NOT LOVE ! | kinich x gn!reader

— in which two people notice what two people don't .

— i've gone absolutely batshit over him your honour. im going to now start writing for kinich like a crazed man dying of thirst in the desert. let it be known that streamer!au kinich, enemies to lovers with poacher mc and other ideas are coming up (no im not cheating on xiao shush)

mualani notices it.

"hehe."

and you hear it.

"so! there's a little..." she stares at you with the most serious face you've ever seen on the girl, acting suspiciously unlike herself. gesturing at you with exaggerated hand movements, then pointing toward who knows where, she eyes you. mischievously. "something that's 'going on', yea?"

and at first, you have absolutely no clue what she could be referring to. mualani is a sociable person, after all. her definition of "something" could range anywhere between a particularly cute baby saurian to an out-of-control-bonfire turned wildfire.

with the only eventful thing today being a brief morning surf session with sharky, you just sat there, never having felt more lost.

mualani grabs your shoulders in an iron grip, leaning forward to the point she's almost beginning to seem menacing. you can see the moment where she tries to think over something (which she never does quite successfully) before she straight up shouts:

"ah!! i'll just spell it out for you!! you. and kinich. bestie. spill."

.

.

.

ajaw did more than just "notice" it.

"you..! kIINICH, did you seriously have to-"

"noisy."

"selfish assh- ALMIGHTY DRAGONLORD K'UHUL AJAW HAS HAD ENOUGH OF THE DISRESPECT! TIME AND TIME AGAIN, yOU'VE-"

"once again, ajaw. be quiet."

"sure sure, and pretend i didn't see you and that someone do a little smoochy-smooch, huh?! UGH, now you've asked for it- KINICH AND LOVEY DOVEY, SITTIN' IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

ajaw was what you would call a "witness". though, most would use that term in regards to one seeing a crime or heinous event take place — this event was nothing of that nature.

well, as far as kinich was concerned, the matter was simple. you'd ventured all the way to scions of the canopy to give him a gift, (claiming it was for the time he'd helped you after a couple of yumkausarus hadn't enjoyed your fruit offering and instead decided to off you), and he'd refused to accept it. he wasn't one to receive reimbursement for others, and he didn't particularly like talking either — it was a well-known fact, almost law in natlan, that if the malipo ignored your words, all you need do was apologize and continue on.

well, you did exactly the opposite.

"no thanks."

"...sorry?"

"i don't need it."

"haha, so 'malipo' kinich's rumored no-nonsense nature really proved to be true! now come over here so i can give you my fucking gift!"

you were rather adamant about giving it to him. the reason? you'd bought the gift on a whim after seeing it being sold by a passing merchant, advertised as "80% only today if you buy within the next like 4 minutes" and you'd immediately dropped every mora you had. it was the most useless little thing ever, and you didn't want it at this point, but.. the deals. how could you return such an item???

naturally, you handed it off to the man you'd seen for a good two minutes before he flew, or did whatever his thing was, away. the man had remembered furrowing his brows the slightest, listening to ajaw's persistent yellings of "IT'S AN OFFERING TO ME, TAKE IT" and feeling an oncoming headache. "i said i didn't.."

as he turned to walk away, three unfortunate(?) things occured.

a rock under your shoe and a very graceful process of falling to the ground

kinich looking back (his mistake)

a kiss...?

oh, and two extra.

4. ajaw had saw it all. 5. and mualani, who had saw you from a distance and was coming to greet you, was faced with a sight she could not process.

...Now that he thought over it again, was the matter really "simple"? kinich's job was what he considered simple — split 70% to investigation, 10% to final decision, and 10% to execution, well portioned and planned out.

then, this...

.

.

.

"girlie, you've seriously got the wrong idea. i'm telling you, we aren't dating!"

"mmmokay. of course! because not-dating people kiss allll the time!"

you paused for a moment, remembering kinich's even tone, stern gaze, and... ah, a face that deserved a gold medal.

"it's only 99% not love, okay mualani? but if it wasn't..."

.

.

.

"... and it's 99% not love, ajaw."

(a/n) darling im back from jail part 2. daddys home part 2. not funny? ok. HIHIHIHI ive bene really built like a sun dried raisin lately but kinich is the healing holy water that has saved me i will write more for him in the future because i love him a stupid amount its like the first time in a decade I've written for just ONE character and AND AND

I THOUGHT HE WOULDNT OCME HOME BECAUSE I ONLY HAD 68 WISHES OUT OF MY ORIGINAL LIKE 100+ AND RUINED MY CHANCES BECAUSE OF REALLY REALLY WANTING MuALANI (i love her sm) BUT. BUT BRO CAME HOME. ON THE FIRST 10 PULL AND WON THE 50/50 JUST LIKE MUALANI DID (or is it 45/55 now idk) LIVE LAUGH LOVE KINICH !!

[ tags: ] @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @intpessimistic

( dm or comment to be added ! i might miss ur comment so just to be sure, leave a comment on the actual masterlists page on my pinned ^ ^ )

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Ok, I don't really post here, but there's a Merlin AU idea that's been rattling around in my skull like it's a pinball machine and I need to get it out, so here we go:

Imagine an AU where Balinor doesn't die and banishes Kilgarrah before sneaking away so Uther doesn't catch him and can't put his newfound son in danger. Of course, both he and Merlin are heartbroken about having to be separated again after just finding each other, but they work out a way to keep in touch and occasionally meet in secret.

And this is all well and good, and everything in the show just kinda proceeds as normal up until about season 4, where we have the knights of the round table well-established in Camelot.

It'd make sense that after a few years of travelling around with Kilgarrah, Balinor would be pretty well-known and well-feared throughout all the five kingdoms as "that dragonlord who escaped the purge and now travels around on the back of a giant dragon", and people all over Albion are kinda terrified of the guy.

Rumors say that he never smiles, that he can kill a man in a split second without even utterring a spell, and can decimate kingdoms with the dragon under his total command. That makes for a formidable figure!

And then one day, Balinor is trying to sneak into Camelot to visit his son (he heard Merlin got hit by a dorocha and wants to make sure he's ok!), and the knights see him and freak out because holy shit that's one of the deadliest guys in Albion!

They're in a tense standoff, with Balinor threatening to call down the dragon on them if they don't let him through. The knights are all ready to give their lives to at least buy the people in the castle time to evacuate, when suddenly Merlin and Arthur make it to the standoff. Arthur immediately starts strategizing with his knights on how they're going to negociate with the sorcerer in an attempt to make sure that they aren't all slaughtered.

Meanwhile, Merlin just laughs and pushes through the rows of knights blocking Balinor's path to the castle. The knights, being very fond of Merlin and not wanting to see their kind little friend be brutally murdered by one of the most terrifying men in exsistence, are trying to grab Merlin and pull him back to safety or shouting at him to get back, but Merlin manages to avoid them as he walks up to Balinor.

For a horrifying moment, the knights and Arthur think that Merlin is about to sacrifice himself for them, but Merlin breaks into a huge grin, yells "Dad!", and runs right into Balinor's arms.

(Merlin and Balinor reason that now that Arthur's king, they might as well start easing him into some of Merlin's less shocking secrets)

And even more shockingly to the knights, Balinor hugs him back, asking Merlin all about how he's been doing, how are his studies under Gaius, etc etc.

And all of the knights just bluescreen. Because the math isn't mathing on this one. Hunith + Balinor = MERLIN?! Does not compute.

They're all pondering how could someone as joyful, friendly, and kind as Merlin be the spawn of a terrifying man like Balinor?? They just cannot comprehend it. The manservant who they all know and love came from this sorcerer who's name is synonymous with the threat of death and destruction??

They're all jolted back to reality however when Balinor asks Merlin if he wants to come back to Balinor's newly-renovated stronghold in the mountains (that's only accessable by riding a dragon) to learn more about one day becoming a dragonlord. And suddenly, the knight understand why Balinor's here. He wants to kidnap Merlin from them and twist him into a terrifying sorcerer to carry on Balinor's legacy!

It all basically dissolves into a long game of high-stakes tug-of-war between Balinor and the knights + Arthur, and Merlin's just enjoying spending time with his father and his friends.

Balinor will just casually crash one of their quests while riding Kilgarrah and "kidnap" Merlin while the knights fight to keep Merlin with them.

Balinor eventually gives Merlin Aithusa so he can get practice raising dragons, and the knights see it as some evil scheme to make Merlin betray Camelot and attack it from within, but damn it Merlin's already adopted the damn thing so now they're stuck with a baby dragon.

IDK if I'd ever write a fic about it since I'm pretty busy writing another fic rn, but I thought that it was a funny idea to throw out there!

PS: if anyone wants to read my current project, where I'm giving Sir Leon more anxiety with each chapter after a kinda-botched magic reveal on Merlin's part (and Merlin may or may not be an eldritch god), feel free to check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54027337/chapters/136771564

Thank you all for sticking with my incoherent rambling! :D I hope you have a great day/night!

Also, please let me know if you guys wants to hear more of the ideas that pinball around in my head!

[orbitsaturn]

"actually?" "yeah, actually."

─ in which you accidentally bump (fall) into someone you might know in an indoor climbing gym

"his arms look really meaty..."

modern au! kinich x reader abt 2.1k words!

final part of part 1 this can be read as a standalone!

your user is sparkling toots in this fic

──────────────────────

"I'M DODGING I'M DODGING!!" you yell over the call, hastily pressing multiple keys and moving your mouse quickly. it's been a while since you played with your friend, almightydragonlord, yes, cheesy username. but still, you enjoyed playing with him as he makes everything easier, really, EVERYTHING easier. he helped you with your builds the first time you met him, albeit much to your refusal (felt insulted when his so-called lizard, 'ajaw' called your characters trash) (it was actually ajaw but you refuse to believe how a lizard can somehow spell out the words l o s e r).

anyways!

the only response you can hear from the other side of the call is loud typing, followed by a brief. "mhm" from the almightydragonlord. he's quiet, the only time he really speaks to you is when he's giving you constructive criticism or the rare times he chuckles when you die during boss fights. which you respond by angrily yelling at him.

"toots, behind you." snapping out of your thinking, you quickly dodge the incoming attack hurled behind your character by the boss you both were fighting. with one more quick setup from the almightydragonlord it was instantly over, the huge numbers brought by his characters becoming more and more like a regular sight for you. welp! at least your daily boss fighting is done for the day.

"dragonlord I'm gonna go now! i'll see you later?"

"mhm, see you"

"as curt as ever i see! bye!!"

and with that, you ended the call. pulling off your headphones and doing your daily routine to hang out with one of your friends later in the day.

───

"hi mualani!" you waved enthusiastically to your friend who was at a distance. she also waved back with the signature smile that she boasts.

as you make your way towards her you feel a sense of suspicion by the seemingly mischievous smile on her face.

"guess what we're doing today!"

"what?"

"rock climbing!" mualani says, clapping her hands together eagerly.

"we're going rock climbing?!" you cried, quickly whipping your head to look over at the outfit you wore today, which was clearly not appropriate for some activity. furthermore, you've never rock-climbed before except for that time in elementary in the local playground.

wait.

you did have some experience in rock climbing. maybe you should just rely on your memories from your elementary school days! but that was years ago.. and your outfit might hinder you from movements that are essential for climbing.

"don't worry. i got some extra clothes in the back of my car." mualani winks upon seeing your worried demeanor "also it's indoors! so we won't be climbing on real rocks! haha!" she pats your back reassuringly.

upon hearing that you breath a sigh of relief. "oh thank goodness" you say dramatically clasping your hands together. you knew you'd actually be fried if it really was real rock climbing. after the brief chat you both share you quickly make your way to her car door, quickly sitting down and buckling up before the car starts.

always. remember. to. buckle. up.

was the mantra you always repeated before getting into a car when you were young. nowadays putting on the seatbelt was just muscle memory for you. whenever you get into a car you put on your seatbelt without thinking. a necessary habit honestly.

the ride was short, it only took a few minutes to arrive at the indoor climbing gym. funny enough you saw a car with the plate "drgnlrd" parked near the gym. who the hell names their license plate like that?! it's also the same name as the username your friend online has.

well, it's probably just a coincidence!

as you both head into the gym with no expectations whatsoever you were instantly baffled by the sheer height of the

fake rock climbing thingy?

you don't know what it's called but you do know you'll be able to conquer it. i mean, you weren't called the ruler of the playground for nothing! you were dubbed "sonic" by your peers back in elementary for climbing super fast on the rock climbing part in the local playground near your house.

it's safe to say you might be the best (worst) one in the room!

as you head your way to the changing rooms in the gym you notice a familiar figure high up on the rock.

"his arms look really meaty..."

"what are you looking at? let's go so we can climb sooner!" a voice from behind you quickly snaps you out of your thoughts.

oh my god. why were you even thinking about how some random dude's muscles look tasty?? get a grip!

as the both of you head inside you remember the time when almightydragonlord sent a video of him skydiving. yes skydiving, falling out of a helicopter type of skydiving. the area he was skydiving at looked really familiar too!

wait.

familiar?

as you retrace back to the video he sent you, the feeling of dread forms in the pit of your stomach.

lush green trees, tall hilltops, and the distinctive sight of saurians.

lush green trees...

tall hilltops.

SAURIANS?!

NATIVE TO NATLAN SAURIANS?!

HE LIVES IN NATLAN?!?

BUT YOU LIVE IN NATLAN TOO??

ugh! you even shouldn't be thinking about him when your supposed to be conquering the climbing wall soon!

"ugh.. let's not think about this today..." you grumble, quickly putting on the clothes mualani handed you earlier. as you make your way outside the room mualani is already there waiting for you,

"hi!! ready partner?" she smirks at you, dragging you to the rock wall (which looks even more intimidating close up) that you have to conquer.

gulp.

NO!! you can do this. you weren't called the ruler of the playground for nothing. you can conquer this. maybe think of it as a necessary level to beat! plus you have a harness attached to you right now! so you won't wall to your death if you fall. and! if the harness fails you know who to sue to get money.

with one more final nervous gulp, you start conquering (climbing) the wall. when you look up you already see mualani way ahead of you. oh dear, looks like you have a time limit to this level.

"wait!!" you cried, starting to climb the wall, with ease actually, this was way easier than you thought!

"heh. I might actually be the ruler of the climbing gym now!" as you smirk to yourself you notice some weird white powder on mualani's hands? "mualani, what's that stuff on your hands?" you yell out above, "oh! this is climbing chalk, it helps strengthen the grip of your hands if they usually sweat." she yells back.

sweat

sweat

sweat

you know that feeling when you're suddenly aware of how your hands produce sweat and it sweats right after? yeah, it's sweating right now when you realize your hands have the function to sweat.

"oh uh! that's fun" you reply nervously, the word 'sweat echoing throughout your head, the feeling of your sudoriferous (sweat) glands activating within your hands right now, it isn't mandatory to lather that white stuff when you're climbing, so it should be fine...

right?

yeah no, it's not fine you can feel your hands sweating right now, loosening your grip, BUT,

it's not mandatory to lather that stuff so...

"hellloooo!! up from above! hurry up!" mualani's voice snaps you out of your thoughts once again as you look up in response, "we're almost to the top y'know!" she yells making you realize that you were really high up.

and that makes you sweat even more.

but you prevail! you grab onto the next wall hold, and the next, but the feeling of your grip getting weaker every second was not concerning at all! (lie) but you were almost there! you're about to beat mualani and claim the title of the ruler of the climbing gym!

"watch i'm going to win," you say confidently, but in that moment your grip was already weak, weak enough to make your hand slip.

the last thing you see is mualani's shocked expression, followed by one of relief and confusion..?

...

..

.

a hand quickly snakes around your waist, making sure you don't fall to your inevitable doom.

"you good?"

a familiar voice brushes against your ear, your stomach dropping. a foreign feeling of heat rushing to your face due to embarrassment.

as you look at the person who saved you, you are instantly dumbified.

a beautiful mixture of green and orange meets your eyes, with long, thick, dark lashes that compliment the brightness of his orbs, creating a stark contrast that makes it difficult to look away.

wait.

beautiful amber green eyes with dark fluffy hair.

no way.

is he..?

"almightydragonlord?" you say breathlessly, staring at his face shamelessly.

"oh?" his arm unconsciously tightens around your waist, a look of surprise painting his face with the utterance of his online username. in a few seconds his face begins light up as he realizes your identity, "sparklingtoots?" a subconscious smile making it's way to his features, which in turn causes you to gawk even more at him.

oh dear. that smile is deadly.

"t-thank you?" you say confused, blinded by his smile. gosh, he was cuter in person, instead of falling to your death maybe you'll die by the brightness of that smile instead.

wait.

shouldn't you be falling right now?

you slowly look down at your waist.

a hand.

his hand.

the hand you complimented earlier without realizing it was him.

snaked around your waist to prevent you from falling, the proximity between you two was worse, your left side touching his right, his fingers gripping your waist tightly to secure you onto him, the feeling of his forearm around your stomach firm.

oh archons, he's built too?

"u-um, aren't you tired?! shouldn't you let go?! uh! I have a harness don't worry! and I must be heavy!" you say nervously, the close proximity between you two was not helping your conversational skills whatsoever!

"oh sorry, it was on instinct, I'll let go if you want to" he slowly releases his hold on you, careful to not make you drop unexpectedly.

wait, wait, wait, wait.

you're still really high up! you might actually faint if you start free-falling!

you instantly grab his hand, positioning it back on your waist again. "wait! actually please keep holding on, i think it'll be terrifying once i start swinging down." you look up at him, eyes that basically read, 'please don't drop me or else I might actually pass out.'

"you think i'd drop you without any warnings?" he looks at you confused, his hand keeping a firm grip on you once again to prevent you from falling. "i mean... you're carrying a full-grown person right now, so you might claim that you won't drop me on purpose but i don't know if your hand is gonna agree!" you say worriedly in response.

"don't worry i'm strong." he replies, trying to reassure your worries "do you see my pocket? there's some climbing chalk in it, use your hand to get some."

"uh, which pocket?! the front or back?"

"any."

you hesitantly reach into the front pocket of his pants, grabbing a handful of chalk which you quickly lather all over your hands. "now use one of your hands to grab onto one of the holds closest to you" he instructs, which you quickly follow. as you grab onto a yellow hold and then grab onto another one until you are free from his hold, you realize just how much your grip has improved, that you should've just slathered on some climbing chalk before you started climbing to prevent this whole fiasco from happening...

"thank you! um, almigh-"

"kinich."

"oh! thank you the almighty dragon lord kinich!" you tease. in response, he lets out a brief chuckle that you've always heard on the calls you had together.

"i didn't know you lived in natlan!" you exclaim, slowly making your way down the wall. "i thought you knew?" he replies confused, keeping watch of you to make sure he'll catch you before you fall again. "shhh.. i know you sent me that skydiving video months ago but i just realized until today! also, do you do that stuff often..? i mean... you had no hesitation jumping off the helicopter!" you ask him in curiosity, it's strange! most people would hesitate for a bit before jumping off! but this dude didn't even look worried at all!

"oh yeah, i do a lot of stuff like that, like bungee jumping, mountain climbing, sky di-"

"HUH?!" you look at him in disbelief. is he one of those adrenaline junkies?!

"i know most people are shocked, but I find extreme sports enjoyable." he says, looking at you with a gentle smile.

oh dear, you don't think you'll get used to that smile anytime soon.

as you both make your way down, you learn more about the almightydra- kinich, how his lizard ajaw was really the one who made the nasty comments about your characters (which you still don't believe), and how many extreme sports he does, which was a lot. and mualani also descended down quickly to make sure you were okay! as you near the start of the climbing wall you swear you're gonna kiss the ground once you make it back down.

"oh my archons." you collapse on the floor, heaving a sigh of relief, at least you know now to make sure you have emergency climbing chalk in your pockets... you really should invest in some if you're planning to climb more in the future...

as you are laying down on the strangely comforting gym floor you feel a cold object against your forehead. "are you free after this?" a voice above you says as you look up to see kinich leaning over you, water bottle in hand, pressing it against you. just as you were about to respond you were quickly cut off by another voice above you. "yeah she's free!" mualani chirps above you, giving a thumbs up to kinich which she then looks down to wink at you. "I'll be going now. make sure to tell me everything after," who then looks down to whisper at you, giving you a mischievous grin before walking away.

kinich then drops down beside you, turning his head to face you.

"lunch with me today?" he asks, which in turn you grin, "are you asking out on a date? the almighty dragon lord kinich! asking me out on a date! can you believe it?!" you tease,

"and what if i was?" he responds, his amber-green eyes meeting with yours.

"h-huh? actually?" you say surprised, taken aback by his forwardness. you knew he was curt but you didn't expect it to translate over to real life! "yeah, actually." he stands up, offering his hand to you. you grab his hand as he helps you stand up before facing him.

"also, don't worry, i don't do extreme sports with my car." he flashes you a grin.

──────────────────────

A/N!! OH MY GOSH HELLO EVERYONE. thank u all for the support from part 1, I hope you guys liked this one as much as the previous one!! I tried really hard to not make kinich ooc... (I hope I didn't..) I looked up his lore and stuff and found out he liked doing extreme sports! and the skydiving from the previous one I wrote was pretty unexpected BUT!! akshually (nerd emoji) "As a core member of the Scions of the Canopy tribe, Kinich is fond of extreme sports, and is said by his companion K'uhul Ajaw to have plunged headfirst off a cliff and lived to see it (LIKE!! THATS BASICALLY SKY DIVING!!)" quote the genshin wiki!! anyways I hope you enjoyed reading this.HAVE A GOOD DAY OR NIGHT!!

[akelafang]

Au where Balinor lives, banishes Kilgharrah, but then Merlin has to smuggle him out of Camelot and he goes back on the run because despite him saving everyone he's still a dragonlord and Uther is going to Uther. Before he leaves Merlin tells him to at least stop by Ealdor and see his mum cause she still loves him and deserves to at least know he's still alive. Balinor does go to Ealdor but a mix of needing to hide due to being a wanted man and nerves over seeing Hunith again ends up with him hiding in her garden trying to work up the courage to knock on her door. Hunith, hearing a ruckus outside her house, goes to investigate, and when she sees a suspicious man hiding out in her garden she starts whacking him with a broom. Balinor calls out for her to stop, telling her it's him, and when she does the two actually see each other for the first time in so many years. For a while, they just stare at each other until Balinor speaks in a stunned breathless voice "Dear gods, you're as beautiful as the day I left." Hunith blinks and it registers that she's not imagining things, he's really there. She blushes slightly then whackes him over the head with her broom again. "You disappear for over 2 decades and that's what you have to say to me?!"

[achillesuwu]

What is very interesting with dragonlord [especially if EVERY son get the title and not just the eldest] : the more they are the less powerful they individually are.

Like, it's kinda hard to use dragon as powerful weapon in war if dragonlords will just turning them back to each other like an hot potato.

Which must have made a very interesting dynamic in term of Noble house rankings? Like, dragon lord householdS must have been higher than king on a power scale (maybe they were living in remote communal castles groupe. Kinda living outside of the non-magical world so they were not really counted as threatening by the kingdom living in their territory) BUT at the same time one single dragon lord must not have been very high on the power scale especially if there was even 1 single dragon lord against them AND even dragon lord household individually must not have been high either. They are powerful against common enemies and in their territory but not against each other (if they even wanted to go against their kin).

They can't even be used to move things fast since they don't even use dragon to fly (I 100% headcanon that dragonlords used to have a very specific kind of mount that could keep up with a dragon flying speed and it baffled everyone else lol)

Which mean that Uther plan of killing them all was a very very VERY risky gambling. He must have killed them all in one go because the less they are the more fucked up he was. Like Balinor must have kept him awake at night.

Also RIP to Arthur Pendragon in au where he makes magic legal once more and give back their titles and land to magic users because it must be a nightmare to have to learn all of this new complex ranking of noble houses ( Arthur : so Merlin's household is on the same rank as me????

Gaius : you could say that.

Arthur, continuing to read : but he is also lower in rank than me even as one of the... Elder Dragonlords of his household?

Gaius : well. Usually yes but in this case no since he is the last surviving member of his household?

Arthur : so he has the same rank as me???

Gaius : it depends if there are any Dragonlords for across the sea in the rooms and if his title of court mage is—

*two weeks after arthur finally learned all of that shit*

Arthur *slam the door open* : WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME HE WAS LIKE A FREAKING DEITY AND I DIDN'T HAVE TO LEARN ANY OF THIS?!??

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (exodus)

Introduction

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Paring: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Next part: contact

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

Millennia before the reign of the Padishah Emperors, before the Guild navigators learned to bend space, and long before the Bene Gesserit began their breeding program, there was another power, a House whose name was whispered with awe and fear across the stars—House Targaryen of Valyria.

In those ancient days, Valyria was a shining jewel of the universe, a world of towering spires and grand pyramids, whose mighty fleets ruled not one world but twelve. From the skies of Laansarad to the distant colonies of Qohar and Sarnor, their banner—a red three-headed dragon on a field of black—was a symbol of dominion, and their words, "Fire and Blood," were a promise. Their secret to power was not only their advanced technology or their skill in combat, but something far older, something the Imperium would come to call "unnatural." For the Targaryens were bonded to creatures of legend—dragons—whose very existence defied the laws of nature and technology.

But their power, their fire, had not gone unnoticed.

Once they emerged, the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood, ever-seeking control of bloodlines to further their goals, had long coveted House Targaryen's strength. Yet they could not penetrate the Targaryen bloodline, for the House was immune to the Sisterhood's manipulations. Rumors abounded that the dragons themselves had gifted their riders with an ancient magic that made them resistant to the spice and to the Bene Gesserit’s arts. The Targaryens did not bow, did not mingle their blood with the lesser Houses of the Imperium, and did not submit to the Sisterhood’s schemes. This isolation, this defiance, would be their undoing.

It began as whispers in the shadows of the imperial court of House Corrino, whispers that spoke of Valyria’s growing influence and its potential threat to the Emperor's rule. Fearing the power of House Targaryen and the dragons they commanded, House Corrino, in secret alliance with the Bene Gesserit and several other noble houses, set in motion a betrayal that would forever change the galaxy.

Without warning, the skies of Valyria turned dark as Corrino's fleets descended upon the planet like locusts. Great dreadnoughts unleashed their fury, raining nuclear fire upon the unsuspecting cities. The Targaryens, though powerful, were not prepared for such treachery. The star cities of Valyria, with their grand pyramids and towering spires, were reduced to ash in a matter of hours. Their colonies—once strongholds of the Targaryen vassal Houses—were similarly annihilated in the firestorm.

The Bene Gesserit, cold and calculating, had played their part well. They ensured that no Targaryen blood would escape their reach, confident that the ancient dragonlords were now a cautionary tale, a reminder that even the greatest Houses could fall.

But they were wrong.

In the chaos, a single fleet—a fraction of the once-mighty armada—managed to escape the inferno. Led by Aenar Targaryen, a visionary dragonlord, and his most loyal vassals, the remnants of House Targaryen fled into the void. Their dragons, too, escaped, fleeing with their riders into the unknown. With the enemy forces closing in, Aenar made the hardest decision of his life. He ordered the abandonment of the civilian starships—hundreds of them—that could not jump through space at the speed needed to escape. Tens of thousands of men, women, and children—innocent lives—were sacrificed to buy time for the chosen few. As the slow ships limped away at sub-light speed, doomed to be caught by their pursuers, the core fleet vanished in the blink of an eye, jumping to coordinates no one in the known galaxy had ever seen.

In their flight, they left behind only death and ruin, convincing the Imperium that House Targaryen was no more. The Bene Gesserit believed the bloodline had been wiped out. House Corrino celebrated their victory, confident that their throne was secure.

But the Targaryens were not dead.

As the surviving ships jumped further and further into uncharted space, their surviving dragons roared in defiance. Aenar Targaryen vowed that his House would rise again. The fire that had consumed Valyria would be reborn, and one day, the red three-headed dragon would fly again over the stars.

Their enemies had only bought themselves time.

In the vast, unknown reaches of space, the last of House Targaryen sought a new home, far from the grasp of the Empire, far from the Bene Gesserit’s eyes. In their hearts burned a single truth: fire and blood. It was all they had left.

And it was all they would need.

Far beyond the reach of the known universe, in the vast and uncharted depths of space, the last of House Targaryen drifted. For weeks, their ships had traveled through the void, their destination unknown, their hopes tethered only to the coordinates embedded in their ancient star charts. Aenar Targaryen, now the sole leader of his House, stood at the helm of his flagship, his mind consumed by thoughts of what was lost and what might yet be found.

Then, the scanners caught sight of something—a planet unlike any they had ever seen. Its atmosphere glowed a rich, deep red, the color of blood under an alien sun. Its oceans shimmered like rubies, and its vast jungles, though strange and wild, thrummed with life. The planet seemed to call to them, a beacon of hope in the darkest night.

"This is it," Aenar said, his voice carrying the weight of a prophecy. "We shall call it Albiron."

As the Targaryen ships descended upon the planet's surface, they found a world brimming with untapped potential. The air was thick but breathable, rich with minerals that nourished the vast jungles below. Towering mountains stretched into the sky, their peaks capped with dormant volcanoes. Aenar made his home there, at the highest point, building a grand pyramid into the volcanic chain that would serve as both fortress and palace. Around it, more pyramids soon rose, connected by a complex nexus of pathways above the dark amber forests. Below, cities began to form, hidden by the jungle canopy, shielded from prying eyes.

Albiron was a world of secrecy, and House Targaryen would see to it that their new home remained unknown to the Imperium and its allies.

As they delved deeper into the planet's surface, they made a discovery that would change the course of their history. In the heart of a vast canyon, buried beneath layers of rock and time, they uncovered a crystal unlike any they had seen before. The crystals, translucent with a faint golden hue, pulsed with an energy that seemed almost alive. Aenar named them drakaon, in honor of the dragons that once ruled Valyria, and the power they held was nothing short of revolutionary.

The drakaon crystals, as they soon learned, could be harnessed as a new energy source. They could be used to fuel their ships, making long-distance space travel possible without the reliance on melange—the spice that had kept the Imperium in control of the stars. For the first time in millennia, the Targaryens were free from the constraints of the galaxy’s economy, free from the Guild's stranglehold on space travel. Their technology advanced rapidly, fueled by the power of the drakaon crystals, and soon, the Targaryens had fleets capable of crossing the stars without detection, fleets that no longer needed to bow to the powers of the known universe.

In secret, they thrived. The cities of Albiron grew more complex and advanced, their pyramids rising higher, their pathways extending further across the planet’s vast jungles. Their ships patrolled the unknown regions, mapping uncharted stars and ensuring that no one would find their new home.

But the greatest secret of all lay within the depths of their new world.

Within hidden caverns, deep beneath the volcanoes of Albiron, Aenar and his descendants built vast hatcheries. Here, using knowledge salvaged from the lost archives of Valyria, they revived their ancient bond with dragons. Clutch by clutch, new dragons were born, their eggs glowing with the same fiery life that had once illuminated the skies of Valyria. The first to hatch was a magnificent beast, its scales a deep, molten red, its eyes like twin suns. They named it Vexarion, a harbinger of the new Targaryen age.

As the hatcheries grew, so too did the dragons, each one bonded to a rider, as had been the tradition for millennia. Once more, the Targaryens flew on dragonback, their fire-breathing companions reclaiming the skies of Albiron. They were stronger, fiercer than ever, their lifespans prolonged by the spice, their health enhanced by the crystals, just as their ancestors had once done. The galaxy believed the last dragons had died millennia ago, but here, on this blood-red planet, they lived—and they thrived.

Under Aenar’s leadership, House Targaryen rebuilt its strength. They did not forget their defeat, nor did they forgive it. But they had learned patience. For now, they would remain hidden, waiting, watching, biding their time in the shadows of the Imperium. They would rise again, but not yet. For now, their future lay in the skies above Albiron, in the bond between dragon and rider, in the power of the drakaon crystals that flowed beneath their feet.

Thousands of years had passed since the fall of Valyria, and the known galaxy had all but forgotten the name Targaryen. House Corrino ruled unchallenged, the Bene Gesserit continued their manipulations, and the spice flowed as the lifeblood of the Imperium. The Targaryens, once feared and powerful, were now little more than a cautionary tale—a story told to remind the galaxy of the dangers of defying the throne.

But in the far reaches of space, beyond the gaze of the Emperor, beyond the Sisterhood’s influence, whispers had begun to circulate. Minor Houses in the fringe systems spoke in hushed tones of strange transactions, of peculiar spice shipments that defied the standard flow of commerce. Most notably, a small, unassuming House known as House Vex had begun to quietly sell a specific brand of spice to select, discreet buyers.

The spice itself was nothing extraordinary at first glance—reddish-brown in color, with the same faint glow that all melange possessed. Yet, when examined closely, it held properties that puzzled even the most skilled refiners. It resisted traditional refinement processes, requiring a unique method of rensfuration to unlock its full potency. And it was always purchased by the same anonymous entity, whose representatives never gave names, never left a trace.

Rumors swirled throughout the Imperium. Some said the spice had properties that could extend life far beyond what even melange could achieve. Others whispered that it had been tailored for use in genetic experimentation, perhaps even to create a superhuman race immune to the Bene Gesserit's influence. The most outlandish rumors claimed it was being used to resurrect a forgotten House, one whose bloodline had been immune to the Sisterhood’s powers millennia ago.

At first, the whispers were dismissed. Minor Houses always had their secrets, after all, and House Vex was hardly influential enough to warrant concern. But as more and more shipments of this peculiar spice quietly disappeared into the unknown universe, suspicions began to grow. The Spacing Guild noticed the irregularities in the spice routes, and the Bene Gesserit began to pay attention. Still, no one dared speak openly of it—House Corrino had no interest in encouraging the notion of a long-lost enemy returning from the shadows.

In truth, the rumors were closer to the truth than anyone realized.

Deep within the jungles of Albiron, the Targaryens had mastered the art of spice refinement—not for their own use, but for their dragons. The spice, in its raw form, had always been a valuable tool to extend human life and grant certain enhancements, but the Targaryens had discovered a very specific strain, a rare and potent variant that, when carefully refined, could do far more. It extended not just the lifespan of their dragons but enhanced their vitality, their strength, their fire. The dragons of Albiron, already magnificent creatures of fire and fury, became more resilient, more powerful than they had ever been in Valyria.

This strain of spice could only be harvested under particular conditions, and it required an even more delicate process of rensfuration, one that took years to perfect. The Targaryens had kept this secret for generations, using it only sparingly to ensure their dragons thrived in exile. And to maintain their anonymity, they allowed House Vex—a small House bound to them in loyalty for centuries—to sell a portion of the raw spice to the wider galaxy, hiding the true purpose of the refined strain.

The transactions were always discreet, the buyers carefully selected to ensure that no one could trace the spice back to Albiron. Yet despite all their precautions, the galaxy had begun to take notice. The mystery surrounding the spice—and the shadowy figures who bought it—grew with each passing year.

The Bene Gesserit, ever watchful, sensed a disturbance in the patterns of the Imperium. Though they could not put their finger on it, the Sisterhood had learned to listen for the subtle currents of power that ran through the universe, and something was shifting. The idea that a House immune to their influence could have survived all these years in secret sent a ripple of unease through their ranks. They began to dig deeper, their agents searching for any clue that might lead them to the source of the rumors.

House Corrino, too, grew wary. The spice trade was the lifeblood of the Empire, and any irregularity in its flow could have disastrous consequences. The Emperor’s spies were dispatched to the farthest corners of the galaxy, though none returned with answers.

Still, the rumors persisted. The spice that had no clear origin. The mysterious buyers from beyond known space. The possibility that a forgotten House might yet live.

In the halls of the Imperium, no one spoke openly of House Targaryen. To do so would invite questions that no one wanted to answer. But in the dark corridors of power, in the quiet whispers between those who dealt in secrets, the name began to surface again.

Targaryen.

Fire and blood.

The galaxy had forgotten them, but House Targaryen had never forgotten the galaxy. And as their dragons grew stronger, as their power in exile continued to build, they waited.

For one day, the whispers would no longer be rumors.

And when that day came, the stars themselves would tremble.

The scorching winds of Arrakis blew fiercely through the narrow streets of Arrakeen, carrying with them the dry scent of spice and the whispers of rebellion. The city, usually shrouded in an oppressive silence broken only by the occasional hum of machinery, now thrummed with tension. A crowd had gathered in the heart of the city, their faces hidden beneath hoods and veils to protect against the harsh sun, their voices rising in fervor as they listened to the woman who stood before them, bathed in the blood-red light of the setting sun.

She was known only as the Red Woman, a stranger from a distant corner of the galaxy, draped in flowing crimson robes that shimmered in the heat. Her eyes burned with an unnatural fire, and her voice, rich and commanding, seemed to cut through the dry air like a blade.

“Brothers, sisters,” she called out, her voice echoing through the square. “You have been deceived! For too long, the Bene Gesserit have whispered their lies into the ears of your leaders, guiding the hand of the Empire toward a future of darkness and death. But the Lord of Light has seen their evil, and He has sent me to show you the truth.”

The crowd murmured in agreement, their eyes locked on the Red Woman as she raised her hands, flames seemingly dancing at her fingertips.

“The night is dark and full of terrors,” she intoned, her voice growing louder. “But there is a light coming, a flame that will burn away the lies of the Bene Gesserit. The false messiah they prepare will lead to the deaths of billions! But the Prince That Was Promised, the true savior, will rise and deliver us from their evil.”

The crowd erupted into shouts of agreement, their fists raised toward the sky as the Red Woman’s message of salvation stirred their hearts. But not everyone in Arrakeen was so moved by her words.

From the shadows of a nearby alley, a figure emerged, flanked by a dozen Bene Gesserit acolytes. The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, her face etched with the lines of age and power, strode forward with the grace of a predator. Her sharp blue eyes took in the scene before her, the riotous crowd, the Red Woman at their center, and the burning passion in their eyes. She had seen such passion before, in other corners of the universe, and she knew well the danger it posed.

The Red Woman turned her gaze toward the Bene Gesserit as they approached, her lips curling into a cold smile. “Ah, the serpents come to silence me,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “Do you fear the truth, Mother?”

Mother Mohiam’s expression remained unchanged as she stepped forward, her voice as cold as the sands of Arrakis at night. “You have no place here, woman. You are not of Arrakis, and you bring only chaos to these people. Leave this world, now, or you will face the consequences.”

The Red Woman laughed, the sound high and sharp, cutting through the murmur of the crowd. “I serve only the Lord of Light, not your false Empire or your twisted Sisterhood. You, who claim to see the future, who shape the paths of men to serve your own ends, are the true servants of darkness. You pave the way for a false messiah who will bring nothing but death and destruction to the universe.”

The Bene Gesserit acolytes shifted uneasily behind Mother Mohiam, but she stood firm, her eyes locked on the Red Woman. “You speak of a prophecy you do not understand,” she said. “The future is not for the untrained mind to glimpse. You meddle with forces beyond your comprehension.”

“The future is clear to those who serve the Light,” the Red Woman retorted. “Your Kwisatz Haderach, your so-called savior, will be the harbinger of death. He will lead the universe into a war that will consume entire worlds, killing billions. But the Prince That Was Promised will come, and he will burn away the lies you have sown.”

The crowd began to stir again, their fear and anger rising as the Red Woman’s words took hold. Mother Mohiam could feel the pulse of the mob, the heat of their desperation, and knew that if she did not act soon, this riot would spread like wildfire through the streets of Arrakeen.

“You play with fire,” Mother Mohiam said softly, stepping closer to the Red Woman. “And fire will consume you.”

The Red Woman smiled, her eyes gleaming. “The night is dark and full of terrors, Mother. You would do well to remember that.”

With that, the Red Woman raised her hands, and for a brief moment, flames flared at her fingertips once more before she stepped back into the shadows. Her followers, emboldened by her defiance, began to chant, their voices growing louder as they echoed her words.

“The night is dark and full of terrors. The Prince That Was Promised will come.”

Mother Mohiam watched as the Red Woman disappeared into the crowd, her eyes narrowing in thought. She had faced zealots before, had seen the power of faith wielded as a weapon. But this… this was something different. The Red Woman’s words echoed in her mind, unsettling her in a way few things ever had.

As the crowd began to disperse, the tension lingering in the air like the scent of spice after a storm, Mother Mohiam turned to her acolytes.

“Find her,” she said quietly. “Find her and bring her to me. We must know who she truly serves.”

For a moment, she stood in the empty square, the wind stirring the dust around her feet. She looked up at the burning sky, the twin suns casting long shadows across the desert, and a chill ran down her spine despite the heat.

The night is dark and full of terrors, indeed.

And Mother Mohiam knew that the terrors were only beginning.

- A/N: Let's see how well this does before I post another part.

[havenlyd]

The Silent One

"There is no use reminiscing past glory. The age of the dragons have ended, and we shall create things that will surpass them."

Named after the King Aegon's trusted confidant, Ser Gaemon Palehair, Prince Gaemon is the youngest child of the King Aegon III Targaryen and his consort, Barba Bolton. The Prince Gaemon was born on summer of 146 AC.

The Prince was ruled out to be a simpleton at first; the boy did not cry after his birth and did not speak until the age of five.

Grand Maester Androw have advised the King to send the boy to ward and have his education being taken care of by other houses, but the King refused, saying that Gaemon being a simpleton is of little concern as he is quite far down the line of sucession.

Though Gaemon grew up to be loved and adored by his father and mother, he would later become a ward of house Velaryon and joined Lord Alyn Velaryon in his sail to the Free Cities and Yi Ti when he was fourteen and returned to Westeros when he was sixteen.

However, the return of Prince Gaemon—and especially the unexpected things he brought with him—would cause a rift in house Targaryen.

[larluce]

If all the Merlins I created met each other

Familiar Merlin 🦅: (flies around the place in his bird form and then changes into his human form, falling gracefully)

"Dragonlord’s son" Merlin 🐉: wooow, how did you do that?! 😃

"From the grave to the cradle" Emrys 🧙‍♂️: (in his dragoon apparence) It's easier than you think. (Changes into younger apparence) We all have metamorphosis abilities. Some just have them more devoloped than others.

Time travel AU/tree Merlin 🌳: I was forced to be a tree for ten years. Does that count?

Merlin 🦅: OMG! I was forced into my bird form too! 😄 (Hi fives Merlin 🌳) I can change my form at will now though.

Merlin 🐉: wait, what?! 😨 Why would they do something like that to you?

Merlin 🌳: Magic deal with the sidhes.

Merlin 🦅: Some sorcerers wanted to control my magic.

Merlin 🐉: (to Emrys 🧙‍♂️) And you?

Emrys 🧙‍♂️: Oh, I was not forced into turning into anything.

Merlin 🐉: Thank the gods.

Emrys 🧙‍♂️: Yeah, I was only forced to wait for Arthur to come back from death for 1500 years until I got tired of waiting and decided to travel back in time to kidnap him as a baby.

Merlin 🐉: ...

Merlin 🦅: ...

Merlin 🌳: OMG! You traveled back in time too?! 😃 (tries to hi five Emrys 🧙‍♂️, but he just looks at him with the serious face he always wears so he lowers his hand, akwardly) Ahm... And why did it take you so long?

Emrys 🧙‍♂️: I was a fool with too much faith in destiny, so I waited for Arthur to return longer than I should have. And time travel spells are not that easy to do, specially if you're the only magic user alive.

Merlin 🌳: Yeah, Arthur told me he had to-wait, what do you mean with "the only magic user alive?'!!😱

Merlin 🐉: Are we seriously going to ignore the part when he said he kidnapped Arthur?!

Merlin 🦅: Oh, did you put him cage? I hope not, those are awful.

Merlin 🐉: That's the only thing that worries you?!

Emrys 🧙‍♂️: No, I did not put him in a cage.

Merlin 🌳: I don't understand your reasoning, but if it was the only way to save him-

Merlin 🐉: The only way?! You have to be kidding me! Am I the only sane one here?!

Emrys 🧙‍♂️: How old are you?

Merlin 🐉: 20. Why?

Merlin 🌳: Oh, just two seasons of traumas. That explains it.

Merlin 🐉: (sighs) And I thought being kidnapped by a dragon was the worst thing that could happen to me.

Merlin 🌳: You were kidnapped by a dragon? 😨

Emrys 🧙‍♂️: You were kidnapped just once? 😒

Merlin 🦅: Were you put in a cage?

Merlin 🐉: Yes, yes, and no, I was not put in a cage. (To Merlin 🦅) How are you not affected by any of this? You look younger than me. Shouldn't you be even more scandalised?

Merlin 🦅: (shrugs) I don't know. But I was kind of brainwashed into believing a was never human before, so maybe that affected my perception of things (starts eating a death lark he recently hunted) Yummy 😋. You want some? 😄

Merlin 🐉: ... 😰🤢

Merlin 🌳: ... 🥺😖

Emrys 🧙‍♂️: (not impressed at all) 😒 (sighs) No, thank you, little one. But thanks for asking.

[whateverthought]

House of the Dragon AU where Rhaenyra is raised as a boy, her birth kept secret for a while because she's sickly and Aemma has already lost a few miscarriages and a stillbirth and it doesn't matter too much since Aemon is Heir and Jaehaerys is still alive and Rhaenys is the one with eyes on her, but after Baelon becomes Heir everyone learns Viserys has a kid and when He dies and -another miscarriage,- Viserys becomes King he tells people he has a son, a small lie in all the chaos to smooth things over, to seem like a better prospect. At least till he gets an actual son. And then Aemma dies.

Otto proposes that his daughter, friends with the Prince already, be betrothed to Rhaenyra since betrothing her to Viserys wouldn't put his blood on the throne per se but the Prince? And he gets to override Daemon getting His blood on the throne? Que the Baby Problem(TM)

Que the Baby Problem. How do these lesbians women procure heirs for the throne? Rhaenyra's blood would have to be passed on, since any child born from Alicent wouldn't be a dragonlord but Rhaenyra being pregnant would make their hoax harder to keep up, having kids who look too different will cause rumors and if no one ever saw Alicent pregnant they'd start to wonder. That being said, I quite like them sharing the experience. And Rhaenyra has proven to be reckless and Alicent is easily swayed by her.

So we need a Hightower man and a Valyrian man. In comes Gwayne Hightower, a man in his 30s unmarried and with no children of his own in a medieval times equivalent. A man who essentially raised his nephew for his sister and cared enough about her to reassure her she was a good mother. I'm unsure who would step in for Alicent, Laenor- if he fell in love with Gwayne and had a Queers Help Queers relationship with the girls? But what would he get out of it? He couldn't be a Sworn Shield like Gwayne, Daemon? Too possessive, too power hungry, too obsessed with Viserys and hating Hightowers. Maaaybe Viserys since he does know and would do anything for Rhaenyra, and at least this way his other kids wouldn't threaten his first-born's claim to the throne and subsequently start a Succession Crisis.

Either way, when Rhaenyra is having her first child, she would have their first child so there's no confusion over who gets to be heir (if Alicent had a son first but Rhaenyra's first child was also a son it'd cause emotional problems cause they're both her sons buuut...) and Gwayne is a much easier solution to the problem. And they can hide away in Dragonstone and make excuses about Rhaenyra being overprotective because of her mother. The next would be Alicent's, to show the court that yes, Alicent is the one getting pregnant. And so on and so forth, their children would then be betrothed to each other to unite their blood.

Just Rhaenyra and Alicent, 'King and Queen' and their Sworn Shield Ser Gwayne Hightower and the other one, maybe a dragonseed who's Gwayne's lover? Wacky little medieval lesbians having a rollercoaster ride of a time making a family and running from court, the Velaryons, and Otto and Daemon.

[rheian]

MERTHUR AUs

A collection of my Merthur fics that I thoroughly liked. This started out as a fluffy collection, how did this turn out to be a goddamn AU collection?? Also can I just say “Arlin” is such a stupid alt ship name. Glad we stuck with Merthur, christ. This list is a bit shorter than my last one, sorry about that!

If there are fanfiction you cannot access and you do not have an ao3 account then that probably means the fic is restricted, sorry! I highly recommend you to create an ao3 account.

Click “Keep Reading” for the list. ( dividers © )

How (Not) to be a YouTuber: A Comprehensive Guide by Idiots by Imagined, Scarlet_Ribbons ( T | 7k words | one-shot )

Arthur has a gaming channel. Merlin has a gardening channel. The only thing they have in common, it seems, is the fact they're both successful YouTubers, and that their followers want them to do a collab in spite of how different their content is.

Or: In which Arthur and Merlin flirt (despite Merlin’s mysterious fiancé), Morgana dishes out the hottest gossip, Gwaine keeps trying to fight the entire internet, and their fans are maybe just a little too overbearing.

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Youtuber AU, Secret Relationship, Social Media

twitterature by cominupforair ( T | 5k words | one-shot )

Arthur is Camelot FC’s star striker. Merlin is Ealdor FC’s starting goalkeeper. And the whole world thinks they’re rivals, but are they?

aka the Social Media/Football/Wedding AU nobody had asked for

Part 1 out of 3 : Camelot FC

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Football AU, Idiots in Love, Secret Relationship

Shadowlord and Pirate King by Footloose, mushroomtale ( E | 169k words | completed )

A fast ship, a good crew, a treasure, a Clan to lead -- that's all Arthur Pendragon has ever wanted. He sits on the Council, he supports his father's kingship, and he keeps an eye on the Imperial Conglomerate when they come too close to Pirate space.

One day the Conglomerate infiltrates the Clans and poisons the King. Arthur must search for a cure to keep his father alive and the Clans from civil war.

An escape route, a sharp knife, a target, the shadows at his command -- that's all Merlin has ever needed. He fulfills his assignments, he uses the Sterling to sustain his once-royal House in their exile, and wages a private war against the Imperial Conglomerate.

When he learns of an elaborate plot to assassinate him, Merlin does the opposite of what's expected. He flees onto a Pirate ship.

There's a saying among the Pirates: that one's fate is written in the stars. Destiny will always set to rights what has been made wrong.

Arthur and Merlin know that they were meant for the other from the moment they meet. They can feel it from across the galaxies separating them. Nothing can stop them from being together or from fulfilling an ancient prophecy.

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Space / Original AU, Space Opera, futuristic warfare

Noodles Save The Day, Even In Mysterious Ways by Dream_Me_A_Song ( T | 12k words | two-shot )

Arthur has been having a very bad week. Arguments with his father, sister and his best friend. Just got laid of his job. And now made a fool of himself in front of the cute boy from his favorite coffe shop.

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Modern AU, Getting Together, First Dates

It's Nice to Finally Tweet You by Pendragons Dragonlord ( T | 15k words | one-shot )

Merlin's eyes scan the headline.

Arthur Pendragon reveals mark in attempt to find the one.

"I pity the guy who's unfortunate enough to get him as a soul mate.”

In which Arthur is a famous celebrity, Merlin is a beloved teacher, and they break Twitter once. Well, twice. Okay so it's a whole bunch of times actually but it's not their fault. Really it's not.

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Modern AU, Soulmates AU, Twitter, Angst and Humor

True Love by platonic_boner ( T | 6k words | one-shot )

AU where soulmates can’t lie to each other.

(That’s okay, Merlin wasn’t planning to lie to Arthur anyways! Haha.. ha.. ha…)

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Soulmates AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings

Moonlit by TheDragon ( M | 3k words | one-shot )

Prince Arthur is a werwulf—the one thing Camelot hates more than sorcerers. He was bitten back when he was 19, and he vividly remembers spending his first full moon running through the forest, killing every animal in sight.

Nowadays, Arthur hides away on full moons. There's a corridor in the dungeons, with many cells that have certainly seen better days. Arthur spends the whole night locked and shackled in a cell at the end of the corridor, praying to any god that will listen that no one hears his snarls.

He's been lucky these past few years. Very, very lucky.

Unfortunately, it seems his luck has run out. [...]

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) | Werewolf AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity

The Prince's Mistress by mayfriend ( M | 97k words | completed ) 

When Uther declared war on the Old Religion after the death of his wife in childbirth, he was warned that there would be consequences to his crusade beyond his worst nightmares. But Uther ignored these warnings, and the purge continued. If he'd known the price his people would pay for his vendetta, perhaps he would have been more wary.

Twenty years have passed since the great purge began, and Uther's subjects have grown barren. Fewer children are born with each passing year, until the very future of the Kingdom was endangered. In a final attempt to save Camelot, Uther decreed that men of the noble class were allowed to take mistresses without fear of condemnation. The social class from which the mistress originated didn't matter, as long as she was able to bear an heir - an heir that would be recognised and legitimised by the court.

Merlin, having been raised outside Camelot, knew little of these problems. If she had, she'd have thought twice before she saved the prat of a prince's life and was made his mistress as a 'reward' by Uther.

A fill from a kinkmeme prompt, which focuses on an canon AU where Merlin is a girl, Arthur's mistress, and the only hope for a waning Camelot.

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Gender Swap AU, Canon Divergence, Female Merlin, Assassination Attempt(s)

a half of a whole (cannot truly forget the other) by Steamcraft ( T | 99k words | completed )

From the majority of the patients in Camelot Mental Health Institute, Colin Morgan - or Merlin as he insists to be called - seems the most normal aside from the delusions. Bradley only wishes he'd stop calling him Arthur for gods sake because now he dreams of legends.

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Mental Institution AU, Modern AU, Reincarnation, Immortal Merlin, Hospital Malpractice

I Will Share Your Road by PinkGold ( E | 7k words | one-shot )

 ‘Who is this?’

Arthur’s heart was beating fast. He didn’t know what to expect, but whatever he was doing, it felt wrong. He checked to see if the doors had been properly closed, and when he looked down at his forearm again, he had a new message.

‘They call me Emrys.’

Emrys, Arthur mumbled. Weird name.

‘How are you doing this?’

The answer took a while to appear in his skin, right on the inside portion of his upper arm.

‘Magic.’

OR

In which Arthur and Merlin are soulmates who can write on each other's skin.

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Soulmates AU, Druid Merlin, Two Person Love Triangle, Insecure Arthur, Idiots in Love

leaves on a pear tree (the you're so young remix) by coricomile ( T | 1k words | one-shot )

“The magic,” Merlin says. “Isn’t it funny that it’s you with it this time around instead of me? Imagine what Uther would say.”

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Hogwarts AU, Modern AU, Reincarnation

Deeds by the5leggedCricket ( T | 6k words | completed )

Arthur is coming of age, and that means he’s about to get Deeds—marks on his body telling him of his soulmate’s greatest accomplishments. But as he tries to find his soulmate, he also makes some worrying discoveries about the kind of person his soulmate is.

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Soulmates AU, Canon divergence, Oblivious Arthur, Fluff

[dragonsoftheeast]

no time for fear or blame (inside, we are the same)

Written for the @hotd-bigbang

Title: no time for fear or blame (inside, we are the same)

Ship: Aemond x Helaena

WC: 5,621

Rating: Teen

Summary: The Targaryens may have escaped the Doom, but the consequences of Valyria's sins aren't done with them. Monsters come from the waters now, to attack Westeros, all bearing purple eyes. But the Targaryens are willing to do anything to defend their new homeland. With the last dregs of their sorcery, they create great machines to even the odds of the fight. The Dragons.

Or: the Pacific Rim AU

Art by: @emilykaldwen

read on Ao3

Valyria paid for its transgressions with the Doom. The destruction of the entire peninsula, the elimination of its people and the magics they held so dear. A cataclysm never seen before or since. By fire and blood, they had lived and ruled, by fire and blood they died.

And even then, they were not punished enough. 

For a family of dragonlords managed to survive, saved by the power of prophecy. They fled across the sea to the island of Dragonstone, off the coast of the continent of Westeros, and lived in peace for a time.

But they could not escape the Doom. Not entirely.

The monsters that crossed the Narrow Sea were myriad in form. Some swam, their tails thrashing the water to foam. Others walked the sea floor, each step an earthquake. Still others flew from the ruins of Valyria, smoke still trailing from their wings. They had any number of horns or teeth or claws, all sharp, all deadly. They had four legs or a dozen, four dozen eyes or none.

But they were all pale, near glowing. They all attacked indiscriminately, hatefully, without reason or purpose.

And always, always, they peered at the world with glowing purple eyes.

The first of these monsters rampaged the lands of the Blackwater for ten days. Only the sacrifice of five thousand men, firing ballista at it day and night, shooting out its eyes, managed to bring it down.

The second rose up in Gulltown three moons later and smashed its towers down, turning the thriving harbor town to rubble. It took another five thousand sailors with it, as they dragged it down with nets and stabbed it with spears.

The third, when it emerged in Crackclaw Point, lasted for ten breaths.

For the Targaryens would not run from their new home again. Not when they faced an enemy they could fight.

Troubled by the news of the destruction wrought by these creatures, the children of Aerion Targaryen pooled all of their resources, all of the magic left to them by their Valyrian ancestors, all of their own blood and will, and created a monster of their own.

This time, the monster faced the three-headed dragon.

A machine, standing as tall as palace walls, made of shining Valyrian steel and glowing purple eyes of its own. Wielding a great glowing sword as long as a bell tower was tall, in a heartbeat, it cut the monster's snarling tongue out at the root. Another beat, and its claws were cut away. Another, and its head splashed into the waters.

When the three pilots emerged from their machine, monster carcass at their feet, the smallfolk crowned them on the spot.

Because there was the key, to take on the burden of their massive machine: three pilots, perfectly synchronized, of one mind and one purpose.

Aegon and Rhaenys and Visenya, joined in the Drift, united in blood and memory.

It went beyond efficiency, to see them fight together in that machine, Hartos Bartossi. It was art. A dance.

People began to forget the danger the monsters had been. Year after year, they came, and each time the Targaryens struck them down. The smallfolk began to gather on the shoreline when they heard of one approaching. Nobles brought out their ships and came as close to the battle as they dared. When the bells rang, no one fled, and fanciful nicknames for the creatures were bandied about to keep track of them all.

Until Dorne.

The smallfolk called this one the Scorpion, for its long, barbed tail, though that did not last long in the battle. No one knew what exactly had gone wrong- it could have been as mundane as a missed step in the water, or perhaps exhaustion- but the next thing anyone knew, a claw had grasped the machine's left side, where Queen Rhaenys stood, and tore it away.

The Targaryens fought for two more days to avenge their fallen sister. It was the longest battle they ever undertook, but under the burden of their grief and the loss of a third of their fighting force, they struggled. But their rage won out. The Three-Headed Dragon collapsed on the shores of Ghost Hill, its two remaining pilots in tatters, but alive.

Aegon and Visenya never drifted together again.

In their stead they built new machines.

Blackfyre, they built, hoping to create a new trio from Aegon and his two sons, then Dark Sister, with Visenya in the king’s place, but none of their attempts worked. They were not drift compatible. So, they tore those apart and built a pair, smaller, and Aegon and Visenya now piloted with their heirs: Aegon with Aenys in Balerion, Visenya with Maegor in Vhagar.

Perhaps the role of king would have divided them, in a different world. Questions of inheritance and the divine right of rule would be foremost in their minds. However, in the face of an existential threat, one can either choose to join or die. Maegor Targaryen made his choice.

For still the monsters came. 

New Targaryens were born and took their places in their Dragons, if they turned out to be drift compatible. Three generations, and the most they could manage was a team of two. Perfectly matched, compatible, powerful, but not the three-headed dragon. 

And now they came to try again.

Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Children of Alicent Hightower.

Testing drift compatibility was more art than science, Father would remind them. But it was imperative to be honest about it. To lie and attempt to appease their parents, to say they had felt compatibility when there was none, was to risk their very lives. Trying to force a drift could kill them, as it had done Aerea.

A Targaryen did not fear death, but they did fear a waste.

Yet still, they died. Aemon and Alyssa, off the coast of Tarth. Alysanne and Gael, a mere mile from Dragonstone. Viserra, in White Harbor, sending her co-pilot Saera running off into the unknown. Baelon and the Old King Jaehaerys, after thirty years defending the Crownlands together.

Now was the time to regroup. Now was the time for the three-headed dragon to bring hope. Perhaps, even to take the fight to the monsters themselves, and cut them off at the source, wherever that was. The long-held dream.

Their armor shone, untested, carved with a thousand glyphs, each plate joined seamlessly and almost molded to their bodies, shining dragonglass dotting their limbs and their backs, where arcane energy would flow. Each winged helm was fitted with a Valyrian steel crown studded with rubies, drakarys written on their foreheads in blood.

Hartos Bartossi was kept gleaming, in pride of place in the Dragonpit and always ready to take up the fight again, though the interior had been kept as it was. The leather was worn; once dyed blood red, there were pink notches where each of the Defenders had locked themselves in. The style of its cockpit was old, threadbare: since this first machine, made in a great rush at great need, the Targaryens had made it much more comfortable to pilot.

Still, it was with awe that the three of them took their places. Aegon in the seat of his namesake. Helaena on his left, where Rhaenys once stood and was torn away. And Aemond on his right, where Visenya had fought a score of battles.

“Are you sure?” Rhaenys said. She readjusted the straps, a furrow in her brow, and drew a dagger of dragonglass. “This could destroy you all. None, not even Aegon and Visenya, have succeeded here. I will stop this, if I see that you are not well matched. I will cut you out of your seats myself.”

She had once attempted this herself, with their father Viserys and uncle Daemon. She’d emerged partnered with Viserys, piloting Balerion until he had fallen ill ten years before. She’d supervised their sister Rhaenyra’s attempt with Laena and Laenor. Currently, she had not partnered with a new co-pilot, but among their family it was rumored she could Drift with anyone.

“Why shouldn’t it be done?” Aegon said, because this was a purpose, and if it wasn’t his, then why bother?

“It must be done,” Aemond said, ever so serious, ever so eager for battle.

“It will be done,” Helaena said, with that strange serene surety of hers.

Rhaenys stepped back away from them onto the platform. No sign of doubt crossed her regal brow, even when the curtain of glass fell between them, smudging her face in their view.

“Mērys iōrilēt bē ēdruro bēvumbātās,” she said, the incantation warped by the enchanted material.

*Drift in a dream of unity.

And then her face was gone, the world awash in red and heat and pressure. The light of magic scalded their vision.

Here is what it meant to Drift- aptly named, for in it, one’s mind drifted between those two consciousnesses as if there were no border between them-

It meant that sensation was heightened. That they saw the world not from their own eyes, but from giants’, further and sharper than eagles’. It meant that memory was shared. The childhood seen through another’s eyes, watching oneself grow through someone else’s eyes. Anger, pain, joy, felt twice over. It meant a singularity of purpose, a profound need to act, made all the more potent by a partner to do it with, here in this storm of a machine.

Here is what it meant to be out of alignment-

Pain.

Even as Aemond and Helaena wondered in their newfound power, their brother burned, the light of magic not revealing but blinding. Not a power but a burden, and one too heavy to bear.

The furnace that made up the Dragon’s heart blazed. With a song of fire and steel and blood magic, the twin swords rose, but the shield remained limp, and the Hartos Bartossi took a lopsided step.

“Kelīs, kelīs!” Rhaenys roared over Aegon’s screams. “Kirātās! Hāros iōrātās!”

*Stop, stop! Wake and be three!

The three of them went limp in their straps, Rhaenys charged forward, leaping off the platform into the Dragon’s head, past the glass curtain, past Helaena and Aemond, still coming down from the euphoria of their new bond. To Aegon, and the smoke curling up from his armor, and his tears of blood.

“No.”

Hartos Bartossi would remain unpiloted. But the day was not a waste: a new Jaeger team was born.

-----

Aemond and Helaena, without sharing a look, gave identical sighs. Even now, without stepping foot in another Dragon, they were feeling the effects of the Drift.

Of course they had known they would be refused: not through any power of foresight, but simply through familiarity with their sire. Yet they had still sought an audience with the king their father, as was the custom.

This was meant to be an exultant moment. The knighting of the two pilots, and the bestowing of a great Dragon, that machine that Targaryens had made their duty. Never had a king denied a pairs’ choice, but the court could not fault Viserys his caution.

Aemond and Helaena had chosen as their mount, weapon, and vessel no less than Vhagar, who had carried Visenya to victory in a hundred battles. It had sat untouched since their cousin Laena had died, for Rhaenys could not bear to be inside it, but neither could she let it rust to ruin. But ever since Aerea had died, and Viserys himself fallen ill after her, there were whispers that these old Dragons were cursed, the magic twisted. Better to scrap them and rebuild them anew.

“Your Majesty,” Aemond said, “The monsters are growing stronger, the period between their arrivals smaller. We must meet them in Dragons strong enough to match them!”

King Viserys remained unswayed. His fingers drummed against the arms of the Iron Throne, wrought from the charred-black bones of the first monster Aegon had slain.

“Targaryen pilots are too dear a resource to waste on vanity,” he said. “Vhagar is a mighty machine, to be sure, but it is old, and seen too many riders, too much death. Ask for any other, and I will grant it to you.”

“Your Majesty,” Aemond started, and explained himself once more, but Helaena had sunk into a dream.

She had had this dream before, she knew it well. She dreamed of a dark sky above a roiling ocean, great rains falling so thick it felt like drowning, and tower rising over it all. Lightning flashed, and a white stag emerged from the waters, fanged. She pulled an arrow back to her ear and let it fly. The stag fell, and she felt blood on her cheeks.

“Father,” Helaena said, and though she had not raised her voice, the court fell silent. “Give us the night to decide. Our weapons are our lives, not something to be chosen lightly.”

“Yes, of course.” The King’s fingers drummed again, the rings clacking against bone. “The pair of you have had your heart set on Vhagar for so long, I cannot imagine you had an alternative.”

She bowed low, and after a beat, Aemond followed.

Their mother kept a watchful eye on the court as they left, whispering among themselves. She was always so concerned with what the court thought of them. At least one of the family should.

“Helaena,” Aemond said, confused, as they entered the royal chambers. “What did you mean? You agreed-”

“Vhagar, hm?” Their uncle Daemon whistled, clapping him on the shoulder. “You had to have known he would deny you, but I am impressed by your gall.”

“We have much to discuss,” Aemond admitted. “But we will join you in battle soon enough.”

“Golden Shepherd and Sea Ghost remain unpiloted,” he listed on his fingers. “And the dragonsmiths have yet enough scrap from Balerion to fashion two more Dragons, if you can wait for them.”

“Warrior’s Day approaches.” He pointed out. “We would not leave you to defend Dragonstone alone.”

For some strange reason, the monsters always attacked the island on that day.

“We’ve done well enough these past two years.” Daemon shrugged. “I would not like to rush you into making a decision. A Dragon is more than a weapon, it is the extension of your being. The housing for your soul and the place where you have the best and truest understanding.”

“I never took you for a poet, uncle.”

“I cannot take the credit.” He half-smiled. “It’s something my father once told us.”

“Come,” their father called to them. “Your mother has prepared a feast for you.”

“I’m afraid I must retire for the night, Father,” Helaena said, smiling brightly. “I will feast again when we take our first steps in a Dragon.”

The king chuckled.

“How dutiful my daughters are,” he mused. “Brother, you will join me?”

“Of course.” The Rogue Prince unfolded himself to join the celebrations, giving the pair of them a meaningful look.

Helaena waited until the brothers had left them, before she grabbed her brother by the arm.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Storm’s End.”

With those two words the bond fell back in place. Hooded and cloaked, they rode to the Dragonpit.

“Mīsvossi jomīsagon īlōn baelātās.” He said, helping Helaena from the saddle.

*Put us in armor.

“Dārilaros Aemos, rhakitioty daor-”

*Prince Aemond, we don’t understand-

“Rhakitegon ajorrāelāt daor. Mīsvos.”

*You don’t need to. Armor.

Unable to disobey their prince, the Dragonsmiths hurried to prepare them.

First their breastplates, the dragonglass thrumming with energy, lined against their spines. The pauldrons and the greaves, joined seamlessly, nearly weaving themselves together, fitting snugly against the joints. The gauntlets and the sabatons, flexing, the dragonglass embedded there a conduit for the Dragon. The blood, cut from a smith’s hand, blessing them with dragonfire. Finally, the helms, enclosing them in the suit and filling them with the strength to pilot a giant.

The Dragons stood at the end of the platforms below the great dome of the Dragonpit, as spokes on a wheel. At the head in pride of place was Hartos Bartossi, settled back into a neutral pose since their last test. To its left was their prize.

Vhagar.

Far from Hartos Bartossi’s shining whorls of Valyrian steel, or Great Syrax’s elaborate red and gold paint, Vhagar was grey green and a hulk, its head nearly buried in its massive shoulders.

They were lowered inside, and the Dragonsmiths began to strap them in, as they had once done for Rhaenys and Laena. More than any of the Dragons, they knew Vhagar. Aemond on the right, and Helaena on the left, as they had been inside Hartos Bartossi.

“Itetas,” they said, stepping back onto the platform, watching nervously.

*Done.

“Ready,” Aemond said, for he knew they were strong.

“Ready,” Helaena said, for she knew they would succeed.

“Mērys iōrilēt bē ēdruro bēvumbātās,” they said together, and plunged into the Drift.

*Drift in a dream of unity.

The Drift was a wash of blood over them, not just red but heat, but vitality, the rush to protect. The memory was there, the connection. The understanding, not just of the co-pilot, but of Vhagar, this ancient machine. They had studied it, the weapons, the speed, the limits, but this went beyond anything a manual could provide. Everywhere the dragonglass had been embedded into the army, magic flowed urging them forward.

Their Drift in Hartos Bartossi was dull in comparison, the bare beginnings of connection, only with each other. Now, with Vhagar, they were one with the machine, one with the power that flowed through it, capable of anything.

She saw, he saw, they saw. She dreamed, he dreamed, they dreamed.

And they knew where to go.

As the court of King Viserys feasted to celebrate what they thought was a potential new protector of the east, King’s Landing saw Vhagar walk again, down Rhaenys’ Hill and into the Blackwater, disappearing past the Rush.

It was dawn, when they arrived at Storm’s End, but one could hardly tell by the look of it. It was dark, and the rain came down in sheets, a frantic drumbeat against the Dragon. Faint lights marked a few windowsills in the tower on the cliffs above them, but the true light was Vhagar’s furnace, blazing from its chest and leaking through its massive shoulders. At the sight of it, the candles were snuffed out. They knew what Vhagar’s presence meant.

The monster had not yet appeared.

“It will arrive before the storm fades,” Helaena insisted.

“Then we wait,” Aemond said, at last understanding the surety that the dreams instilled in his sister. It went beyond seeing the future- the dreams, they were being in the future. They were strange and disjointed, as dreams tended to be, but they were truth.

They crouched in the water on the northern side of the cliffs, allowing the dark waves to at least partially dim the light enough for stealth. The monsters were greedy- it would attack the tower first, to try and wreak the most destruction.

Still it rained, and when lightning struck the thunder roared loud enough to rattle them in their armor.

The glow of purple eyes pierced through the dark. The lightning flashed again, and the glint of antlers like axes shone with sharpness. Spindly legs held its lithe body up above the water, the knees bending every which way. When it snarled, poison dripped from sharp teeth.

They watched it with an odd curiosity. They had seen a monster before, of course- Rhaenyra and Laenor had fought one in the Blackwater once in their childhood, piloting Sea Ghost- but from the ground, they were forces of nature, massive beyond any natural being. From here, from the eyes of giants, they were equals.

No, not equals. Prey.

The stag monster charged the tower, its slender legs sloshing through the water, bellowing far too low for a creature that looked so delicate.

Before a single tine touched Storm’s End, Vhagar met the beast, the Dragon’s massive body crushing into the creature’s. It screamed, tines snapping and scraping against them, sending flying shards of bone splashing into the water.

Aemond lifted their arm, and the plate unfolded like wings, metal screeching as the claws raked across them. The monster threw its head again, trying to ram them.

Like Ser Criston with his morningstar, Helaena thought, but that was not her, facing her mother’s sworn shield and his whirling weapon, it was Aemond, it was Aemond who lunged once, twisting past and pressing leverage-

“Dark Sister!” Aemond shouted, and together, they held out their right hand, grasping.

Vhagar’s arm flattened and sharpened, the whole of its forearm becoming a sword. The creature, braced against their shield, flailed as they stabbed it, once, twice, spraying bright blue blood into Shipbreaker Bay.

It screamed again, a soundless thing that drove a spike into the bone, and thrashed. Cliffs crumbled as they stumbled, machine and beast breaking apart. They could not lower their left arm. A broken tine had lodged there and kept the plates from closing again. They ducked, missing a kick by a hair.

“Drakarys!” Helaena snarled, raising a fist.

Vhagar did the same, and white fire appeared there, burning, blinding.

They let the spear of flame fly.

It struck through the creature’s body, pinning it to the cliff wall, a cleansing fire to remove the blight of their ancestors. They raised Dark Sister and struck again, and the stag’s head went flying.

The storm broke, sunlight shone on Shipbreaker Bay, and Vhagar stood victorious.

On Warrior’s Day, the light that first hit the shores of Dragonstone was not the dawn’s, but the blazing glow of three Dragons’ furnaces.

It was the closest thing they had to sharing the same skin.

------

For the Dragons had come to Dragonstone, as they always did, to patrol the island.

It was only on this day that the monsters came in a group. Normally, they arrived one by one, striking no place in particular. Thus, the Dragons patrolled the coast, making sure that wherever a monster emerged, there was someone there to kill it.

But ever since the days of the Defenders, the monsters flocked to Dragonstone on Warrior’s Day, smashing themselves against the island with reckless abandon from sunup ‘til sundown. Despite the distance they must have travelled, they never emerged until they reached the Gullet. So it made sense that the Dragons should make it there first.

Great Syrax led them, a smattering of scratches marring the red and gold paint. They had recently been in battle and had not yet painted her over. Sinuous and aerodynamic, it cut through the waves, while Vhagar lumbered behind, flanking it. Golden Shepherd made up the rear of the formation, the most protected of the trio, and the most human in shape among the Dragons.

It had taken three years for Aegon to find a true partner, in the form of his nephew Jacaerys, all of six-and-ten years of age. Even then, his mother Princess Rhaenyra had forbidden them from facing a monster in their resplendent Golden Shepherd, reserving them to patrols of the Blackwater.

Meanwhile, his siblings had taken to their ancestral fight with vigor, bringing all of Aemond's unrelenting ferocity and Helaena's unflappable focus to bear in Vhagar, a monster all her own. Since they had joined the fight, the sole burden of Westeros’s protection had been taken off of Daemon and Rhaenyra’s shoulders, but once again, the monsters had bolstered their strength to match theirs. They could not turn down an ally, as much as Rhaenyra wanted to protect her son.

They made three turns around the island, eyes sweeping the horizon, before the first monster made its appearance.

It was never certain how concerted these attacks were, but this certainly made the case for their mindlessness: the first to arrive was roughly wyrm-shaped, fins shaped for cutting through the water. Twisting through the water, it was barely visible despite its massive size, until it had burst through the surface, snaked around Golden Shepherd’s leg.

“Jace!” Rhaenyra screamed, echoing around the head of all three Dragons.

Vhagar pivoted, a huge hand plunging into the water.

The wyrm snarled, spraying flame up at Golden Shepherd’s peaked helmet. But they had found its tail, and tugged, stretching it all the way out of the water. In response, the wyrm coiled tighter, anchoring onto the peak of its greaves, still spraying flames. The Dragon, with its slender legs, was knocked off balance.

To fall into the water was death to a Dragon. Great Syrax lunged forward, dipping a shoulder to catch the other Dragon.

“Cut it!” Daemon ordered, even as the flames turned on them.

Golden Shepherd managed to right itself, its longsword, Vējes, emerging from its right forearm.

“Another on the horizon,” Helaena reported. “From the northeast.”

They could hear Aegon and Jace’s grunts of effort as if they were all in the same room. They hacked away at the wyrm’s neck as it flailed uselessly, trapped between the two Dragons, and Great Syrax moved to stand between them, drawing its slender sword. A warhammer unfolded from Vhagar’s thigh, and Aemond pulled it free, planting their Dragon in the ocean as if a pillar.

The last piece of sinew holding the wyrm together came free, and they rushed to free their leg from its remains. Bright blue blood sprayed over them, steaming over the gold.

Just in time, too: the newest monster had broken through, a silver-golden mane blinding in the morning sun. Aegon responded by flashing their own gauntlets at it, sending it back, squinting.

It recovered quickly, though. Its lithe body charged, diverting from the path of its compatriot, it made for land, for the lava fields.

“Another,” Helaena reported. “From the south, now.”

In the Drift, Aemond knew her dream. In her hand, she held three rubies. Five drops of blue blood fell on her cheeks like tears, burning, corrosive. When she cried out in pain, she dropped them, and one shattered.

They were all prepared to make the sacrifice. It wasn’t a question of who would fall, it was a question of whether they could protect Dragonstone in the process.

Great Syrax ran to put themselves between the monster and the island, but heedless, it leapt over them.

All six watched, astonished, as its powerful legs sailed over the Dragon, itself taller than Maegor’s Holdfast.

Powerful paws slammed into the lava field, and the ground crumbled beneath it. The monster roared as it sank into the tunnels below, and when it ran, it sent molten rock flying.

Great Syrax gave chase, dragonglass crunching under its feet.

“Join them,” Aemond told Golden Shepherd. “Keep them from the castle. We’ll take the other.”

Vhagar slunk into the deeper waters, preparing for the new arrival.

This monster was glistening white, a horse’s head poking through the water, chest frothed with sea foam.

As it passed, they swung, landing a solid blow on its jaw.

Helaena let out a rare gasp as lightning sprung from its mane, crackling. Shocked back, she shook out her hand, blinking back the spots in her eyes.

Distance. They had to keep their distance.

“Drakarys,” Aemond growled, and the fiery spear took shape in their hands. They stabbed once, twice, testing, but the creature proved too agile, dancing out of the way. Flashes of a scaled tail broke the surface.

“Perzys ānogār,” Helaena called, and from Vhagar’s shoulders a turret opened. Firebolts flew and swarmed the creature, like a flock of birds. The creature shrieked and dove to avoid them, though they could still make out its ghostly white body.

“Ours is forcing us to give chase,” Daemon said to them. “We’re running south. Golden Shepherd herding another towards you. Keep to the castle.”

“Understood,” they said, peering into the water.

Now!

They stabbed, and a plume of steam rose in the air as the spear plunged into the sea, but the water had distorted their sight. The stab clipped the tail, and the monster continued to drive forward, trailing blood.

Blinded by steam, they charged through it, conjuring another spear.

“We need a net,” Helaena grumbled. The sun was setting, and they did not want to fight this creature in the dark.

“We see you!” Aegon called. An answering roar followed.

“This one releases lightning, don’t get too close,” Aemond warned him.

There! A glimpse of iridescent scales- they let the spear fly again, and another round of firebolts after it. Crippled, the monster lurched forward, giving them time to recover.

They looked up and saw Golden Shepherd charging towards them. Their own quarry bellowed as they gave chase, but it was clearly tired, its breath coming in pants and its tongue lolling out of its mouth. Its haunches dripped blood from a dozen cuts, but it seemed impervious to the pain.

If it meant to bowl them over, Vhagar would not oblige. They met the charge, catching its head wrestling it, pushing it upwards.

It bellowed again as they forced it onto its hind legs. It tried to slam itself back down again, force them into the ground, but they shoved back up, bracing it against their forearm. Dark Sister formed, and they stabbed, again and again, into the creature’s soft underbelly. It reared back, and they stabbed again, this time up through the bottom of the head, through its face.

“We’ve got it!” Jace called, and they stood, letting the body slide off the blade.

Golden Shepherd had produced a set of chains, and was swinging it above their heads, searching for the creature. They hadn’t been able to use this particular weapon yet.

At the first throw, it fell harmlessly into the water, and they reeled it back in, cursing.

“Where is it?”

“On your left!” Aemond warned. The monster burst from the water, maw gaping-

They threw the net.

The weight of it caught its front legs, and its mane crackled with lightning, glowing across the chain and across the shell of the Dragon. The thunderclap came not long after.

“Kill it, kill it now!” Aegon screamed through teeth forced shut.

“Drakarys!” They screamed again, and the fiery spear plunged into the net, into the writhing beast. It screamed again, a death throe, and then it moved no more.

“Do you see any others?” Aegon asked, breathless.

“No,” Helaena replied. But there were meant to be five. Had Rhaenyra and Daemon seen the last of them? They had not alerted them to it.

Golden Shepherd leaned down and untangled the net, reeling it back into its hip. Vhagar kept watch, until the last of the sun’s light had disappeared into the west.

Warrior’s day was over.

“We’re done, then,” Jace said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Mother, we’re safe and well. Not so bad, hmm?”

“We’re in sore need of feasting,” Aegon said. “So the sooner we can return to the castle, the better.”

They chuckled weakly, but there was no motherly admonishment in response.

“Mother?”

“Let’s head south and find her then,” Aemond said. But the memory of Helaena’s dream throbbed in the Drift. The shattered ruby. The tears like blood.

They found the body of the lion-monster, its throat crushed and cut. Its paws were cut and studded with shards of dragonglass. Another kill, on the western shore, a winged creature with a shattered beak and shredded belly. But no Dragon.

“Great Syrax,” Aemond called, “Where are you?”

No response came.

“Mother!” Jace called. “Please answer us!”

“Daemon!” Aegon demanded.

They made three turns around the island, searching by the light of their furnaces. When the morning came, there was no sign of them. Not a body or a scrap of Valyrian steel, only the pools of glowing blue blood their battles had left around the island. There was another week of increasingly panicked searching, before they were forced to admit that Rhaenyra and Daemon were gone, and they dragged themselves back to their regular patrols, fueled by renewed rage and bitterness.

Targaryens did not fear death, but that did not mean they did not mourn.

A year passed.

In order to make up for the loss of Great Syrax, two more Dragons were needed: Rhaenys came out of retirement to join Baela in Crimson Moon, while Rhaena and Daeron piloted the newest Dragon, Harvest Dawn.

They had lost hope of ever seeing Daemon and Rhaenyra again, or even retrieving the Dragon they rode. All they could do was continue in their duties on continue to protect Westeros.

But on the eve of Warrior’s Day, while the pilots supped on Dragonstone, a great cry went up among the people: Great Syrax had been seen on the horizon.

The Targaryens rushed down to the beach.

The Dragon took stilted steps through the water. Its head was dented, the sword at its side chipped, and the red and gold paint had been stripped from the metal in patches, leaving whorls of Valyrian steel peeking through.

It took far too long for it to reach them, for it to kneel down. When one was up in a Dragon, one never truly appreciated how massive it was, how slow it truly was, how much effort it took to move so much metal.

The pilots staggered onto the beach, Daemon supporting a limping Rhaenyra. Far from conquering heroes, they were disheveled, dried sweat matting their hair, blood dripping from their noses, bruises in various stages of recovery on every inch of their skin. But despite their wear and tear, Rhaenyra smiled, undaunted, victorious.

“Mother,” Jace whispered, tears streaming down his face, “Where have you been?”

“We’ve found it,” she said. “The Origin. We can destroy them at the source.”

[starrieisdelusional]

Merlin Fix It AU Season 2 Episode: Balinor

balinor lives in a cave and had planned on staying happily there until the end of times until the great dragon is yelling non-stop in his head for 24/7

Annoyed wasn’t even an overreaction. He feels like he’s going mad. He tried spells, potions, meditation, nothing seems to work. So he gave up and goes to Camelot to free him.

He tries breaking his chains but sadly it was enchanted. Only a weapon as powerful as excalibur or magic of the greatest warlock alive can free him. This goes on a few times until merlin stumble upon him and made it his life mission to assassinate this man.

Balinor didn’t go down without a fight, even calling his dragonlord powers, until merlin started using his magic. Balinor was dumbfounded, his magic feel similar to his, and there’s no doubt about it this is probably his son.

He look at kilgharrah and the dragon smirk. Balinor was pissed. He almost killed his son and the dragon didnt think it was an important information to tell him? If balinor was right, they might even kill each other and the dragon still wouldnt say anything.

“That’s my son” Balinor said

“Not really, you see, Merlin is a reincarnation of magic himself….”

Kilgharrah spout his usual bullshit and balinor flip him off. He made a truce with merlin since then and live in gaius’s chambers for the rest of the series.

(Merlin tried to kick him out a couple of times: “you can’t live here, this is the court physician chambers!”

“I don’t care”

And conveniently enough everytime someone enters the room balinor would disappear out of sight.)

(Additional) Character’s reaction when they found out that there’s a man living inside of Gaius’s chambers the entire time:

Gaius:

“Gaius? Is everything alright??” Merlin entered the chamber to see Gaius sprawled on the floor like a princess, unconscious.

“Hey I didn’t do anything” balinor shrugs, slurping his meal

Arthur:

“…so there’s a homeless man who started living in your bedroom?”

“He sleeps outside with Gaius but more or less yes”

When Merlin goes out to wash the dishes balinor put a hand on arthur’s shoulder “if i see you, lay one naughty hand on that boy, you’re dead.”

Arthur was more or less confused.

Gwen:

“Are you sure you’ve been feeding him Merlin?”

“Of course! I’m not that heartless! I always take my duties seriously”

“But you can’t seem to bring me food in time” Arthur snarks from the window

Before Merlin can retort, it was Balinor who reply instead “You should be with the girl, she’s much more polite, caring, and kind than the blond bastard over there”

“You can’t speak like that to a prince!”

“Yeah? Can you deny that you are a royal bastard though?”

Gwen has to take Arthur to his room because he wouldn’t stop sulking for the rest of the day.

Interested in my AU…?

or filter with the hashtag #must we really rely on fate?