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pandorascripts · 1 month ago

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Family Reunion

Uhm... hi... guys!!! Yes, I did go MIA for like a whole year, but I got better at writing and my gay ass got extreme motivation from Agatha and Rio soooo I'm here!!! Not sure if this is permanent, but I really wanted to write Agatha as a mother. Feel free to send in requests (platonic or romantic, either works), who knows if I'll get around to them, but they might motivate me!

Summary: Rio and Agatha begin to heal, too absorbed in familiarity to remember just how bad they were for one another. The Road decides to leap out of Rio's control, thrusting their young daughter away from the underworld and back into their lives.

summary shortened: you're pretty much Nick, except the road decides to throw you back onto the mortal plane for an unknown reason. warnings: some grief, mainly fluff, big smooch scene that we deserved, and me using my Spanish-II class for nefarious acts online (making rio and reader speak Spanish). relationships: Agario/plantonic!reader

all spelling errors are mine, and I apologize, but I'm too excited about writing again to care <3. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha listens as the other coven members cheerily laugh about past experiences -- each letting the burning weight of the trials slip off their shoulders for a moment. The past centuries of her life have been held as a solo journey for Agatha, coven-less, loveless, family-less, and yet, analyzing the people around her, she can't help but wonder if that had been the wrong choice. How is it that these "failed" witches can form a coven far more accepting than the last one she was in? Agatha's not sure, but that spark of humanity she swore died when her coven betrayed her is fighting against the brutal self-taught lessons of apathy. She finds herself drawn into the conversation with a question directed at her. Far too surprised that she's been included, Agatha doesn't clock who it came from at all. Her weight shifts on the log beneath her, fingers anxiously spinning the flower Rio's been harboring since she darkened the road with her soul. Agatha risks a glance at her, then turns back to the coven. Her elbow buzzes with a reminder of a rather bland battle, the hard knitting tool piercing her skin replaying in her mind again. Rio seemingly knows where she's going with this when Agatha hikes up her shirt, lifting her elbow with a small smile.

"You ever heard of the Daughters of Liberty?" her hoarse voice rings out, a faintly muffled chuckle coming from the woman on her right. Agatha smiles at her for the first time in years.

The group enthusiastically shakes their heads, all curious about where Agatha is directing her story. Well aware, Agatha knows she needs to seemingly open up to these women and keep her animosity for them. Letting them in on her past isn't going to do that, so with a snap of her hand the shirt is back down to her wrist, cocky eyes darting around the circle. "Exactly."

Despite how chilling this should be, the group just smiles and laughs at Agatha's story. Agatha won't look into it because that off-putting "joke" just got her respect points with the coven she may or may not choose to betray. That's a win in her mind that is immediately taken away when her old counterpart speaks up.

"I have a scar."

Her tone is a little dry, her face so blank as usual. Naturally, the coven is a little uneasy at Rio's presence, all still deciding if she's trustworthy or not.

Agatha's jaw is sharply outlined as she glares. With a hard breath her nostrils are inflamed, knowing Rio's antics far too familiarly. "No, you don't."

Rio sends her a glare, as if to tell her to shut up. "Yes, I do."

Agatha knows she cannot interrupt again, the coven would be far too suspicious of just how well they know one another. Who Agatha falls in love with is her business -- her weakness is her business. With a taste of defeat that's absolutely disgusting, Agatha lets Rio speak.

"A long time ago, I loved somebody," she starts softly, if not a little too apathetic for a claim like that. The coven is immediately a little interested -- most thinking that Rio is quite the psychopath. Agatha knows they're wrong.

"I had to do something I didn't want to do, and it hurt them," with these words spilt out, Rio gets a little angry at the next part of her speech. Agatha knows what this is going to, her eyes shooting away to look at the stars instead of the stars in Rio's eyes. "But it was my job."

Agatha glares down at her purple pants, the fire a couple feet ahead casting them brighter than their original color. The avoidance is choking her out, but even when Rio speaks again, Agatha is too pained to look.

"She is my scar."

Rio looks over and up at Agatha, not caring that the coven has certainly understood the depth of the relationship between them. For a moment, weakness allows Agatha to breathe in deep, her head softly turning to glance at Rio. The moment the exchange is made, Agatha's body heating up with utter embarrassment, her head snaps. The crack of her knees is deafening, fingers flexing as she tries to loosen the hold on this flower. This damn flower -- why is it still in her hands? Agatha feels grossed out by the question, but more so by her internal response. Rio's face is still burned into her head, the parted lips, eyes open and unafraid of being known by the coven. Rio's look of pure, unaltered love that Agatha swore never truly existed between them.

"Well, I'm gonna take a walk," she snaps out, sending what's supposed to be a condescending smile to the group. Everyone sees through it, more so when Rio sighs annoyedly and rushes after.

Rio would be lying if she said she wasn't slightly pissed, the only thing easing that being the sway of Agatha's hips as she practically darts away from Rio's penetrating gaze. Her eyes remain narrow, watching Agatha fifteen feet up with no objective other than having her back again. Death is lonely, figuratively and literally. She's not found one person who's soul can ease her lack of besides Agatha. Years have blurred together, broken cries of rejection chipping away at the humanity Rio used to harbor, and everything over the millennia she's existed for has undeniably forced her to adept into stone cold apathy. Agatha healed that. During their fleeting time together, Death felt things other than her frozen over hell, she felt desired, understood, she felt human and she understood why humans hate dying so much. Agatha made Death feel like living. So yes, even after this time apart, she's angry that the one soul she refused to take could end up leaving her.

Agatha stops a couple feet ahead now, Rio's gaze running over her body to fully cement the fact that they're back together now, even if not emotionally. Testing waters which have laid still for so long, Rio's chipped nails faintly feel the back of Agatha's spine. When her fingers make contact again, she remembers every night they rested there too -- during walks along the Norwegian beaches despite how freezing it was, fooling around when Agatha was first dabbling in black magic, to nights when Agatha was falling asleep holding their kid and Rio asking hesitantly to take her instead. It's so much, Rio notes, and she understands that it must be for Agatha too because a sound so hauntingly familiar falls from her aching lips -- a moan rippling those waters untouched for years.

Silence is only exchanged after that, Agatha turning around to relent into Rio's care. Seeing her divine face this close again after so many years of punishment, is like allowing a sinner a breath of heaven for Agatha. Her nails rake along Rio's soft face as she soaks in this moment. Her bones are aching to crawl back into the grave she spent so long being comforted in, they're pleading Agatha to just allow them this reprieve, and so she grants it. Rio knows what's coming, her hands clinging onto Agatha as her face dives into her neck. Both their noses dip into the skin, smelling each other, holding each other, for the first time in years. That comforting smell of flowers, dewy earth, and the beguiling scent of death fills Agatha's nose, tears slipping down her face with familiarity.

Rio feels Agatha's hands gripping her head, her own chest stuttering as she struggles with the fleeting emotions entwined with humanity. It's so overwhelming and it's been so long since she's felt it again. Desperate to capture it, Rio grips Agatha's back, nails digging into her shirt as she feels her soul back where it belongs. Still, silence. There's nothing they need to say to her that isn't being felt -- love, security, a hint of forgiveness that Rio hopes won't be nipped in the bud.

Agatha pulls back, Rio tilting her head to analyze her features. When looking isn't enough, they both hold one another's faces, thumbs memorizing the skin along their paths. Rio can feel her eyelids droop, soulless brown eyes moving to the pair of lips in front of her. Agatha's filled with the same desire, darting forward before she can properly judge what's happening, nose bumping against Rio's. The latter pulls away, a soft hum leaving her lips.

"Agatha..."

There's a subtle nod from the addressed, eyes moving off from her mouth to Rio's eyes. It's there Agatha finds that she wasn't stopped out of hesitance or unwillingness, so she leans in again. Rio lets her, invites her when she tilts too.

Agatha hasn't felt a kiss like Rio's kisses in centuries. The moment she feels it again, she lets out a sweet moan. Rio notes how different it is from the ones she usually pulls out -- whether from pain or pleasure. Agatha's was slow and sweet, as if she had been longing for this all her life. It's comforting and full of love. Rio wants more -- she needs to know that this isn't one sided -- that Agatha has started to forgive her for a pain they share. Her hands move to support Agatha's jaw, pulling her into her furthermore as if she wants to swallow her with a kiss. Agatha's giving everything back, lips in tandem with Rio's as they refuse to part for anything.

They're like that for far too long, only stopping when Agatha rests her forehead against Rio's, trying to stifle her panting. Their eyes remain shut, soaking in the physical feel of being loved again.

"I can't -- I can't accept what happened, but -- but I want you to know, I know it hurt you too," Agatha softly speaks, the vulnerability something she rarely shows. It's been years and years of animosity because of their shared grief.

Rio's completely silent, her eyes opening to see the tears slipping down Agatha's cheeks. It takes her a moment of confusion before she realizes that she's crying too -- something that hasn't happened since she held that lifeless body in her heavy arms, crying as she pretended to be tucking her in her crib like she had so many times over the years. Rio's choked up as well, nodding her head as she desperately moves Agatha's hair behind her ears, needing to busy her hands with something.

"I --" Rio can't get anything out. Her thoughts are wilder than a tornado, each one fleeting and escaping her brain before they can be shoved out her mouth. For someone so witty, she can't speak. Rio nods again, lips pressed thin as she leans back in to feel Agatha's lips. There's no denial from Agatha, just like how there never was any all those centuries ago.

The next couple of minutes are spent exchanging sweet kisses, lips slowly and barely moving away just to reconnect seconds later. Rio's hand slips under Agatha's shirt, feeling the taut fabric against her hands when she pulls it out from the waistband of her purple pants. Malleable flesh against her fingertips makes Rio moan against Agatha, a small smirk on her lips when another moan follows -- but not from her. Rio's nails rake along Agatha's stomach, enjoying the feeling after being denied it for so long.

Lost in familiarity, they don't notice the tree cracking behind them -- not until it drops a couple feet out, a hoarse shriek coming from Agatha. Rio's back is turned to her now, hand on her waist as she keeps Agatha close. There's something under the rubble, her eyes thinning down as she glares at the rustling wood. Eventually, Rio steps away from Agatha and kicks over the wood, an unconscious face all too known in front of her. With a hard smack, Rio's knees are digging into the floor, hands grabbing out the sweet face she swore she wouldn't see ever again.

Agatha's stood behind, eyes slightly wide and confused before a soft, "hija" is echoed out in the cold air. Haunted, Agatha stumbles forward to drop down next to Rio, hands moving out to grab at your face. The moment she thinks she can, her hands shoot back and away, knees popping when she abruptly stands. In a hard panic and a heavy breath, her face is whipping around and looking around the road.

"Is this some sick trial?" she screeches out, her lungs aching as she sobs to whoever is controlling this.

Rio's still sitting, cradling your body as her hands touch your hair. The road bends to Rio's will -- after all, Rio only designed the road to bring her more souls -- but this isn't her. This is something else, something far more evil that's infiltrated her dimension. Rio doesn't understand how this is happening, who's behind it, or what the consequences are going to be, but she needs to just soak in this moment.

Rio hasn't seen your chest move in hundreds of years.

Shaky fingers press along your chest, feeling it rise against her hold, then fall, and repeat.

"Agatha," she calls out, turning her head to look at the panicked woman in front of her.

Bewildered and terrified, Agatha meets your sleeping face and freezes. There's a sick part of Agatha that reminds her she had forgotten certain aspects of your face, the guilt eating at her and choking her out. With a shake of her head, Agatha trips over herself as she tries to get away. The sobs are muffled by her vibrating hand, vision blinded by overwhelmed tears. There's too much happening for Agatha to even try regulating herself, so caught up in the face that has haunted her for centuries being thrusted against her in such a short time.

Rio gently picks up your body, head slack against her hard shoulder. The last time you were like this Rio was tightly holding you away from the Ferryman. Her hands rub your back, shifting to make adjustments for you. Centuries ago when you died, you were no more than six, now it seems as if something changed that -- you look like you're ten now. Rio doesn't understand how you managed to "age" if you hadn't had a beating heart in a long time, but she doesn't care.

"Agatha," she tries again, wanting her to see her daughter even if you'll get tugged back onto that old boat soon.

Whipping around, her hands still pressed against her mouth, she gently meets Rio half way. The tears won't stop, shock and disbelief on her aged face. "Oh God," she mumbles, hand slipping over to brush some brown hair away from your face.

You're still you, if not a little pale and older now, but Agatha can't register that. Her baby is back, in some sick way, her baby is back. Rio holds you tightly, feeling so confused as your body is warm against hers.

"What is this?" Agatha hoarsely questions, eyes darting away from yours to Rio's face.

"I don't know -- I didn't do it -- I swear," she sputters out, stopping only when Agatha presses her tear-soaked lips against Rio's own again.

"I know, I know."

Rio calms down at the belief, her arms heavy as Agatha starts to lift you into her own arms. There's a shift from you, Agatha's eyebrows pressing deeply together as she almost glares at you. Still convinced this isn't real, she's as stiff as a board against you. Up until you press into her shoulder, rubbing your nose twice before halting, Agatha doesn't believe it. That single act performed crushes her reluctance, heart stopping at feeling something you used to do all the time against her.

"Oh, baby," she cries out, nose pressed into the side of your hair as you stir. Rio watches with wide eyes, lips parted as she watches how easily Agatha slips back into her motherly tendencies.

Agatha cries until she can't anymore, eventually finding herself sitting down and just holding you against her. Of course, she doesn't want to wake you up but she also can't stop touching you. Desperately aching for the constant reminder that you're tangible -- that you're here -- Agatha's hands constantly touch your face, your waist, your hips -- gently running over your body as she shakes.

Rio sits down in front, hand resting just under your lower thigh, thumb rubbing against the side of your knee. With all this touch, you wake up slightly annoyed, pushing yourself farther into Agatha. Her tears only increase tenfold, fleeting attempts to stop it doing nothing.

"Momma, stop," you quietly whine as she plays with your messy hair, your nose crinkled up just like hers does. The similar aspect makes Agatha tear up, head nodding as she stills her hand on your waist.

"Sorry, baby."

Rio notes Agatha's cracking voice, and so do you. Tiredly, you look up at them both, confused as to why your parents had been crying.

"Why you guys crying?"

"Just really happy, honey," Agatha sniffles out, rubbing your face again. You don't fight against it, eyes darting down to look at Rio.

"Okay." Your soft tone makes Rio's lip tremble, her hand coming out to move some of your curly hair -- so alike to Agatha's -- out of your face. There's a small shake of your head as you adjust your big glasses -- the ones Rio always adored.

"I don't want you to cry, it makes me sad too," you softly admit, moving your face to rest alongside Agatha's sternum. Habits don't die, as proven when Agatha already moves to take off your glasses for you so they don't get bent by how you're laying. Rio acts on impulse too, taking the glasses from Agatha's hands and setting them on her shirt.

"Nosotras sabemos, hija," Rio speaks out, her eyes trained on your face. For a fleeting moment, Rio wonders if you've forgotten the language she taught you, her heart breaking in her chest before you respond with a nod. Agatha's a little behind before understanding what Rio means.

"We know," Agatha reiterates, letting you know that she understood the conversation and agrees.

"Where are we?" you ask, finally looking around to notice what's happening.

Rio can't think of anything to say, not until Agatha comes up with something. "Road trip, dear."

Trusting your mom, you just confusedly nod your head.

"¿Cuándo planeamos el viaje?" you ask out.

Agatha can't respond right away, but Rio does. "You were sleeping, Mama and I wanted to surprise you."

Turning her head to face the speaker, Agatha is a little confused at the question but goes with it. The answer isn't upsetting you, if not just making you a little confused, so she doesn't really care to figure out what was spoken.

"Can I sleep now?" you ask, yawning just after.

"Yeah, baby, of course."

Rio turns to look at Agatha's expression, her heart lurching at just how well motherhood suits her. Brown eyes watch Agatha's gentle hands -- hands that have slaughtered thousands -- sweetly caress your kind face. With a hum, you lean into your mama's hands, eyes shut as you try to sleep again. Agatha is completely lost in having you back, soothingly tracing along your face and down the slope of your nose, touching something she never thought she would again. Rio is too nervous to touch you again, the last time far too devastating for her liking.

As if a mind reader, Agatha brings up Rio's hand to your stomach, setting it there before looking back down at you.

Complete silence falls over you all, Rio's hand stiff before she hesitantly brings it to flatten against your stomach. Apathy is long gone from her usually conniving features, everything overtaken with terrified love. After a minute or two, Rio manages to calm down her anxiety and let her knuckles run against your shirt, remembering the nights when you'd both be sent into fits of giggles when she'd blow raspberries against your stomach. Much to Agatha's dismay, only because it'd rile you up before bedtime. Truth be told, Agatha let it happen a couple times, observing contently from the bedroom door before she'd break it up so you could sleep.

You're knocked out again minutes later, a soft chuckle coming from Rio's lips. "God, she always was a hard sleeper."

Agatha silently nods, tears slipping down her face again. Rio brushes them away with her free hand, letting her knuckles trace against Agatha too.

"You know we don't have her back for long, right?" Rio asks quietly. In a hard, choked out response, Agatha nods her head. "I know, I know. I just need her for a bit longer."

Rio's lips are tugged taut before leaning into a frown, her forehead against Agatha's as they sit in silence together.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x rio #agatha spoilers #agario #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x you #rio vidal x y/n #fanfic #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #agathario #these guys are so gay

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aemondapologistfrfr · 4 months ago

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How to Become No One

aegon x witch!fem!reader

Summary: The Dowager Queen calls upon you to try and heal her son. You never expected to find such a bond with another’s magic. This story of healings takes them across two continents and through many trials.

Warnings: 18+ hurt comfort fr, swearing, mentions of injury not too detailed but kind of, blood, pain, medicine, hurt sunfyre but he gets healed fr, threats, mentions of murder, murder, different kind of magic system, a healing journey fr, faceless men moment, house of the undying, oral(f receiving), p in v after he’s healed bffr

Authors Note: my friend begged me to write this but i clearly didn’t need that much persuading 🫣, i had no idea where i was going with this although it’s giving tower of dawn vibes iykyk, i’ve skewed a lot of things to fit my narrative, not sorry x

Word Count: 6.8k idek what to say!!

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My days in this dark city never seem to have an end or a beginning. I wait at a booth in the back of a tavern waiting for paying customers. Usually they come and ask me to place blood curses or cause immeasurable pain. The man before me is begging for something that’s never been asked of me before which has piqued my curiosity.

“The Dowager Queen is seeking your talents and discretion.” A man with a thick westerosi accent pleads to me.

“She is no Queen to me.” I look over him.

“Surely the payment she’s offering can sway you?” he pulls out a well filled sack. “This is just for the trip there. There is more waiting for you in Kings Landing.” the money he’s speaking of could allow me to leave these lands for good.

“What is the extent of his injury?” I lean back and look at him contemplatively.

“He has sustained burns to half of his body. He fell a great distance off his dragon. He has regained consciousness, but remains in great pain. The Grand Maester believes there are injuries within that are out of his expertise.” his voice wavers as he pushes the gold to me.

I sit back and wonder how the Dowager Queen of Westeros heard of me all the way in Asshai. Sending one of her men to this city to seek me out is madness and I can appreciate her desperation. I could probably get them to pay me even more than they’re planning. It’s been some time since I’ve used my powers to help someone. I grab the bag of coins and the man looks to me hopeful.

“I will come with and do what I can.” I nod to him.

“Pack your bags and we will leave at once. I have a ship at the ready in the harbor.” he rises quickly.

“I have nothing of value worth bringing. We can leave now.” I rise with him as he furrows a brow to me.

“No one to say goodbye to?” he asks overstepping.

“Lead the way to your ship.” I nod my head at him hoping he gets the hint.

We shuffle through the city quickly avoiding the dark streets and ominous folk. As we approach the dock I can see the ridiculously large boat this man no doubt came on. I shake my head to myself as I board and the men begin preparing for us to leave. I look back at the city finally ready to leave it behind me.

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The week on the boat was less than desirable, but I was finally able to find sleep. I was able to try and prepare a plan to help the fallen King. I couldn’t make too many decisions until I’m able to assess him myself in person. As we dock my blood thrums at the magic that is flowing out of this city. It slips around the streets and seems to pour from the other end of the city in form of living animals. Dragons. I didn’t think they would have them so close to their home and within the city walls.

Once we’re docked I’m whisked into a carriage and brought directly to the castle. The man escorts me directly in and up the stairs. We stop in front of a large set of double doors which he knocks on quickly.

“You’re back. Did she come?” a woman looks past the man I’ve been traveling with. “Thank the Gods.”

“I choose to come here. Not the Gods.” I brush past her into the room where I can feel the pain and hear the groans.

My eyes widen as I see the King being forced to walk around the room. There’s a man who is panicked and wants him back in bed and there’s a man with a club foot fighting against the Kings rest. I flare my nostrils that they would even entertain the thought of having him out of bed.

“Get him back in the bed. Now.” I say through my teeth. “Are you fucking daft? How long has it been since the injury?” I walk to the bed as they lay him back down as his watery eye looks to me.

“Hello? Can anyone speak?” I snap as I look around the room.

“Just over a week.” the man in a white robe says.

“And you’re the maester I presume?” I raise my eyebrow to him.

“I am.” he nods looking at me nervously.

“Mm, and this was your idea? To have your King up and walking about while he’s clearly in pain?” my voice starting to rise. Who knows what extra damage they’ve caused.

“It was my plan, my Lady.” the clubfoot speaks.

“I am no Lady.” I look at him with disgust. “And why would you have say over what is best for his health? You seem to only have one leg yourself? Shall I ruin your other and make you walk about the halls?” I walk towards him with darkening eyes.

“No, I-“ he stutters stumbling back.

“Leave this room. You’re not to enter again.” my eyes flash to the door and he’s quickly hobbling out.

“What should we call you?” the woman asks.

“Y/n. You are the Queen I assume?” my eyes look to her grateful ones.

“Yes, Alicent. You don’t know how much it means to me that you came.” her voice cracks as she looks to her son.

“I’ll see what I can do. Leave me with the Maester.” I wave them off and they quickly leave the room. “Tell me his external injuries.” I look to him as I walk to the Kings side.

“As you can see he has burns.” he murmurs

“Indeed, I can heal some of this but he will remained scarred.” I hum ghosting my fingers across the edge of the bed.

“He has a broken leg that we’ve set and try to keep elevated.” he adds.

“Unless you’re having him walk on said broken bone. How is that productive Grand Maester?” my eyes shoot to his.

“Lord Larys demanded, I-“

“You let the clubfoot boss you around? Interesting.” I shake my head. “What else of your King?” I sigh.

“Obviously he’s thoroughly bruised and beaten. I fear there’s more going on internally. His pain is immense.” he looks down folding his hands.

“What is his name?” I hum trailing my fingers down his unscathed side.

“Aegon.” the Grand Maester looks to my hand.

“Where is his dragon?” I ask softly as I can feel the fire within his veins.

“He’s been incapacitated and left at Rooks Rest.” his voice soft.

“Bring the dragon here. They need each other, especially now. I’ll help them both.” I decide and look up to the Maester.

“I will talk to the Prince Regent.” he avoids my eyes.

“You’re scared of him. I am not. I would like to have an audience with him.” Aegon groans below me at my words. “I will meet him alone and not here.” I nod my head to the Maester dismissing him.

I look down to the broken King below me and let out a soft exhale. This will be a challenge but I know I can fix this man below me. God knows why they left his dragon. I thought these dragonlords thought them Gods. I bring a stool to the side of Aegons bed and look to him.

“Can you speak, Aegon?” I ask softly.

“I can.” his voice rough. His lungs are still clouded with smoke and he’ll need a mixture to help begin to clear them and loosen what remains.

“I will make something to help with your throat and chest so it’s easier to talk. I am here help.” the words taste weird on my tongue but I can see the relief he feels at them.

“Thank you,” he starts to cough and I feel the rumble in his chest and the expanse of pain.

I lay my hand on the smooth side of his chest and release tendrils of magic into him to help alleviate some of the pain. His breathing settles as his watery eye looks to me. The tears that slide down his cheek crack something in me and I pull away.

“Are you a God?” his voice shattered.

“I’m far from a God.” I let out a small chuckle as I rise.

“Please don’t leave me,” his unmarred hand reaches for me.

For a reason I don’t understand, or refuse to understand, I sit back down on the stool and place his hand in mine. My other hand reaches up and wipes away his flowing tears and he leans into my hand. Healing this man below me is going to take more than I anticipated.

“Y/n,” the Maester walks through the door. “The Prince Regent will see you in the council chambers.” I nod my head as I walk to the table and begin writing down a list of herbs and tinctures.

“I would like these brought to me. He is not to get out of that bed. If I come back and find him to be standing the person responsible will find themselves indisposed.” the Maester looks at me with wide eyes and nods.

I follow a guard down the hall and stairs. This castle is massive and much brighter than I’m used to. We walk quickly down the halls avoiding anyone. We stop in front of yet another set of double doors which the guard groans open. I step in and the guard leaves me alone with the Prince Regent.

“Who are you to summon me?” his voice carries across the chambers.

“See to it that the Kings dragon is brought here with haste.” I look him over as I feel the rage pouring off of him.

“You do not command me.” he says lowly rising from his chair.

“No, the King does. You are simply a second son.” I hum walking to the table further assessing him.

“You will not speak to me like that.” he grabs his dagger.

“Have the dragon brought back alive or I will take your other eye before you can even get within range of me.” I say simply and he fumes stepping towards me.

I blink and when I open my eyes I’m back in Aegons chambers. He’s asleep and I can hear the backup in his lungs. I softly place a hand on his shoulder and send out my magic into his blood stream. The magic in his entangles with mine and it seems to be begging for help. Mine continues on the search for other injuries that will need my assistance.

My magic trails over his ribs and shutters. They’re bruised roughly and cracked in some spots. It continues to flow down his body and it reaches his broken leg and begins to stich some of itself into the marrow to help assist with mending it back together. He will still need rest and casting to keep it set but it will heal and hopefully quickly.

The Maester walks in with a basket and places it on the table. I walk to the basket and dismiss him. I begin to prepare the mixture and sigh knowing it’ll taste terrible going down. Once I finish I walk back over to the bed and smooth Aegons hair until he slowly starts to stir. He jumps and I feel his anxiety spike as I continue to comfortingly pet his hair.

“This is going to taste terrible. After a few days of this your voice will be back to normal and your lungs will be cleared.” he nods and lifts his head as I bring the cup to his lips. He gags as he swallows down the mixture and I help him lay back once he’s settled.

“I’m having your dragon brought back.” I hum looking down to him.

“My perfect Sunfyre.” he sighs as his eye starts to water again.

“I will help heal him as well. Until he gets here I will focus on your internal injuries first.” I hum sitting back on the stool.

The dragon magic is evident in his veins but he needs a dragon connection to help make it stronger and allow me to begin healing his fire related injuries. Those injuries won’t be easy for him to heal and I won’t be able to reverse everything but I will be able to help lessen it.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Over the past week I have been able to heal his lungs and ribs. He has been talking to me and remaining silent around others. He’s pleaded with me to not share his progress with anyone. I can tell it’s from fear of someone I’m just not sure of who yet. I’ve been slowly trying to figure it out but he shuts down when I pry.

“Is there any word on Sunfyre?” he asks me this everyday and today I can finally say that I do.

“He shall be within the Red Keep gates within the hour.” I smile to him as his eye lights up.

“Will you take me to see him?” he asks sitting up.

“I need to assess him first and start his healing too. Your leg still needs to be in a cast and elevated. I don’t want the progress we’ve made to be for naught.” I pat his hand.

“You’re not frightened by dragons?” he tilts his head.

“Do I seem like the kind of person who has fears, Aegon?” I smile down to him.

“Please help him if you can.” his voice soft as his eye pleads.

“I will do everything I can.” I nod my head to him before I start towards the doors.

“Please come back when you’re done,” his voice a whisper as his magic pulls out to mine.

“You know I will.” I reply without turning around to him before shutting the doors behind me.

I know the dragonlords know nothing of the extent of their magic. His calls to mine so loudly it’s been deafening over the past couple of days. Even now as I exit the main doors of the Keep I can feel it lingering after me. I feel another influx of magic as the gates groan open in front of me as they cart in a golden dragon.

“Sunfyre.” I breathe out and his eye opens and looks directly to me.

The gates shut and the men pulling the cart quickly disperse. I slowly walk up to the dragon and feel the absolute agony this great being is in. I look at his festering wounds and steady my feet. His breathing is labored as he tries to crane his neck.

“Calm, Sunfyre. I will need to clean your wounds. I fear they’ve become infected and I will need to deeply inspect them.” I speak softly to the dragon as I approach with outstretched hands.

I place my hand on his ripped stomach and almost double over at the pain that’s overwhelming my magic. I steel my feet beneath me and bring my other hand to join. The wounds begin seeping again as the infection is slowly being pushed out of his body. I remove my hands and stand back to catch my breath.

I call for the guards to bring me fresh water basins and cloths. I take a seat on the stone and rest my back against the cart. Sunfyre grumbles from above me and pushes his snout into my shoulder.

“Aegon lives. Though I’m sure you can feel that.” I sigh leaning back watching the guards bring me my supplies.

I stand and begin to work on cleaning the wounds. The gouges are deep and I’m surprised that Sunfyre lasted as long as he did. The dragon groans and snaps its jaws as I clean for hours. Once I’m satisfied the wounds are truly clean I look up and notice it’s not the sun lighting my work but torches as the moon is high in the sky.

“Bring live feed for him. Along with water.” I instruct and turn on my heel to return to Aegons chambers.

“Where have you been? How is Sunfyre?” his eyes go wide as he looks at the blood on my hands and dress.

“His wounds are cleaned and disinfected. I’m having food and water brought to him now. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how long I was gone or I would’ve sent word.” I sigh as I walk to his bathing chambers in hopes of finding something to wash my hands with.

“Call for a servant to make you a bath.” he sits up looking to me with furrowed brows.

“I should’ve washed before I came here. I was just in a rush,” I shake my head at my rambling.

“Guards,” he shouts for the first time all week.

“My King,” the guard bursts in the door not having heard his kings voice in well over a week.

“Have a servant come and make Y/n a bath.” he nods to the guard.

“At once.” the guard nods and shuts the door behind him.

“Aegon,” I start.

“A bath is the least I can offer.” he cuts me off shaking his head.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Sunfyre is restored save for scars. Him and his rider will have that in common. I collect small vials of blood from Sunfyre throughout the week to mix into a poultice for Aegons burns. Sunfyre surprisingly cooperates and has no issues with my poking and prodding.

“What is this now?” Aegons voice weary as I approach with the blood mixture.

“The most painful part I’m afraid.” I murmur as I sit on the bed next to him.

“What does it do?” he eyes the bowl in my hand.

“Help with the burns. It will help heal and lessen them, at the cost of reliving the initial trauma.” I look to him as his eye goes wide.

“Y/n,” his voice trembles as his unscarred hand reaches for mine. “I’m scared.” a tear slips down his face.

“I’m here. You will be safe.” I murmur wiping away his tears.

“Please not all at once.” his voice broken and pleading.

“Of course not,” I shake my head. “I want to see if I can at least heal your eye first.” I bring my hand up to cup his scarred cheek.

“Do you think you can?” his voice full of hope.

“We shall find out.” I hum.

His unscarred hand holds onto mine tightly. I take my free hand and dip my fingers into the blood mixture and hoover it over his closed eye. I softly spread it over the burnt skin and I begin to see it sizzle. His hand squeezes mine and I feel as if my hand is going to break.

“It hurts, it hurts.” Aegon sobs and my heart cracks.

“I’m sorry, I’m here, you’re safe.” I try to push my magic into his but his dragon magic is linking with Sunfyres blood blocking out any relief.

I slide into the bed next to him and begin to smooth his hair as he continues to squeeze my hand. His sobs are slowly tearing into my soul and I feel absolutely helpless. His breathing starts to slow and his tears stop. I hover above him and look upon his eye. I get off the bed and retrieve a clean cloth and dip it into water. I wipe off his eye and relief washes over me. I push my magic into him and send it straight to his eye. The nerves are starting to repair themselves and I sigh as I feel the last connection.

“Open your eyes Aegon.” I whisper down to him.

He blinks his eyes open and a smile spreads across my face. I’ve done it. He has his other eye open and it appears to be moving in sync with the other as if there’s no issue. He scans the room and his violet eyes land on me.

“You’ve done it.” Aegon starts crying. I smile down to him and cup his face.

“You’ve done it. It takes a lot of strength to go through that again. You are very strong and brave.” I offer him praise and he begins crying even harder.

“Can that heal my entire body?” he looks up to me with watery eyes.

“It could but it would take many moons. It took me a whole week to collect this blood just for your eye.” I look to him biting my lip.

“And whose blood is that?” he looks to me blinking rapidly still getting used to having both eyes once more.

“Sunfyres.” I look to the now empty bowl.

“He allowed you to take his blood?” he looks at me quizzically.

“Indeed, I have a way with words.” I hum smiling down to him. “Although, I do have another way to help you, but me suggesting this may be overstepping and possibly a little insane.” I say hushed biting my lip.

“What is it?” he hangs on to my every word.

I’ve been mulling over this idea since I first saw the broken King. I have heard of many different magics and Gods throughout my years and this is the first time I’ve ever considered seeking them out. Running away with the King of Westeros is absolutely mad but I’m hoping he’ll come with me. I’m reluctant to admit that I’ve become quite fond of him and wish to take him away from his family.

“We will reside in Bravos as you work to become a part of the Faceless Men Guild. There they will train you on how to become no one. After you succeed, I know of sorcerers in Essos who can conjure a doppelgänger or a clone of sorts that would almost directly resemble you, save for a few features. From here we bring him back to Bravos where essentially you would kill him and take his face and in turn kill your old self.” Aegon blinks at me as he takes in this information and plan.

“You said we? You would stay with me?” he looks up to me as if this is the only factor that matters to him.

“I would, if you want me to.” I chew on the inside of my cheek.

“For how long?” he sits up.

“As long as you’d like me to.” I murmur looking to him.

“Why?” he squints his eyes assessing me.

“I’ve become quite attached to you.” I look to him with raw eyes. “My magic seems to hum and mold with yours.” I whisper.

“My magic?” he raises an eyebrow.

“We can explore it later once we’re safe.” I nod to him hoping he’ll come with me.

He starts to rise from his bed and I go to his side. He brushes me off as he stands and strides across the room and I’m left speechless. He opens his wardrobe and pulls out a bag and begins to stuff clothes and coin into it. He grabs a cloak and pulls it over his shoulders before turning back to me.

“Let’s go tonight.” I look at him in shock as he stands before me. “Oh, I’ve been practicing at night. I wanted to surprise you.” a small half smile spreads across his face.

“You amaze me.” I shake my head in awe of him.

“Come, I know a way where we won’t be seen.” he pulls me to the wall before opening a door to the internal tunnels.

“Put both of your hands in mine and close your eyes.” I hum and he grabs my hands quickly.

I look to make sure his eyes are closed and I slowly shut mine and picture us on a boat that is to arrive in Bravos within the day. I breathe out and open my eyes as I hear the sea crash onto the wooden ship. Aegons hands clench mine as his eyes open. His eyes go wide as his hands fall from mine as he looks out at the sea.

“Are you sure you’re not a God?” he whispers as he turns back to me.

“I’m sure.” I smile as I pull him to an empty bench as we watch the sea sway.

“What of Sunfyre?” he turns to me with worry in his voice.

“He’ll most likely follow our magic here and reside in the countryside. He’ll be safe regardless of his decision.” I nod my head assuring him.

We sit in silence as the ship hands begin preparing for us to reach the docks. We keep to ourselves so we don’t call any attention to ourselves. Once the boat docks we slip off the boat and go into the city to seek shelter for the upcoming moons.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We’ve been residing a couple blocks from the guild and they were respectful enough of me and my magic to allow Aegon to reside with me and not within the walls. If they wouldn’t have allowed it I know he would not have stayed, he is attached to my hip when he’s not training with them. I don’t much mind because I enjoy feeling wanted for once.

He comes through the door and up the stairs into our main room and pulls me into a hug. He has begun to pick apart my walls and is the first person I’ve allowed to hug me in years, if not decades. I hold him against me and whisper words of praise to him. Everyday we have a routine of me peppering him with compliments and encouragement to get him out of our small apartment and then words of praise and adoration when he comes home.

We’ve become very domestic over the past two moons. We started sharing a bed instead of taking turns on the lumpy couch. I cook us dinner while he talks of his training and tasks and I listen dutifully. While he’s gone during the day I venture into the city and make coin by doing easy healing. If I want a little extra coin to buy Aegon his favorite food I’ll cast a couple curses and then make my way to the meat market.

“I have my final test tomorrow.” his eyes slide to mine.

“Already?” I look up to him.

“I have no issue being no one because I’ve spent my whole life as no one.” he says softly as I feel his sadness.

“Then you shall be mine.” the words fall from my lips before I can stop them.

“Y/n,” he whispers looking to me with glassy eyes.

“Aegon,” I walk to him and cup his face.

“I wish I wasn’t so hideous,” he looks up to me as his eyes become red as his tears fall.

“I don’t think you’re hideous.” I say hushed as I kiss his forehead. I slowly offer him kisses around his face and make sure to pay extra attention to his scarred side.

“I don’t deserve you.” he shakes his head as tears cascade down his cheeks. “I just want to kiss you and walk around the city with you without everyone feeling bad for you. I want you to see me as the man I can truly be.” his voice cracking as he continues to cry burying himself in my arms.

“I see you as the man you wish to be. Your scars have never made me feel any different about you.” I smile smoothing his hair. “If you truly wish to kiss me, then kiss me.” my words barely audible.

He pulls back from me and looks to me. He looks to my lips but shakes his head and looks away. I know he’s fighting an internal battle that I can’t help with. He lets out a deep breath and shakes his head and looks to me again.

“Fuck it,” he shrugs and pulls my lips to his.

My magic seeps into his mouth and caresses his. His tongue pushes into my mouth and slides against mine as I sigh. His hand travels to the back of my neck keeping me tightly against him as if I’ll slip away. His other hand wraps tightly around my back and I wrap my arms around him clinging to him. We slowly pull back breathing heavily and he places one last kiss on lips before stepping back and looking me over.

“Thank you for seeing me as I am.” he smiles to me.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁��⋆⁺₊⋆

After Aegon returns the next day he’s beaming at passing. I hug him tightly as I feel his excitement as our next step is approaching. I’ve been storing my magic for us to make this journey to Qarth and have enough for us to make the return back to Bravos. We pack a small bag which is mostly filled with coins should they decide to be greedy. I hold my palms out to Aegon and he places his hands in mine and closes his eyes as he knows what’s coming.

We blink open our eyes in the morning sun as we stand in front of the House of the Undying. A gray man exits the single door and looks directly through me to my magic. Aegons hand is still in mine as he looks on at the strange man.

“Y/n, it’s been quite awhile.” his voice speaks directly in my mind.

“I require a favor.” I ask my voice strong and unwavering.

“A new face for your lover?” he looks to Aegon and smiles.

“What is your price?” I ask aloud.

“Come inside, we can discuss this with my counterparts.” we waves us in after him.

“Do not accept anything. Let me do the talking.” I whisper lowly pulling him inside with me.

As we enter the stone building it completely warps until we’re sanding in front of multiple seated gray men. Their magic is similar to mine but theirs always seems to leave my head reeling. I ground myself and look over them before me.

“How lovely it is to see you again, Y/n.” one of them purrs across the hall.

“I’m absolutely delighted to be here.” I look up to them with dead eyes.

“Come now, last time wasn’t so bad.” the leader of them walks down to stand in front of Aegon and me.

“Interesting that you couldn’t care less if he’s handsome or not. You’re doing this for him.” his voice slithers around my ears.

“What is your price?” I look to him expectantly, unfazed by his words.

“Why can’t we talk first? It’s been so long. Let us have some tea.” he hums as the room warps once more and we’re sitting at a table with a kettle and three cups around us.

“Do not drink the tea.” I push Aegons cup away from him.

“I hope Asshai and the shadow lands treated you well.” the man smiles with rotted teeth.

“It was a very eye opening experience. I learned many things that only the shadows whisper.” I return his predatory smile.

“Enlighten me,” he drawls.

My magic slinks out of me and pierces into his corpse of a body. He chuckles lowly as it circles around his heart but it disappears quickly as I delve deeper to constrict around his remaining life force.

“You know what I seek and I shall have it or your eternity will be cut short.” I nod my head to him as my magic begins to encapsulate his magic.

“You have gone where we won’t even tread.” his voice a whisper as his eyes cloud over with blackness.

“Do you wish for me to take you there?” I tilt my head.

The scene warps around us and we’re back in the hall with the rest of the Undying. They look on as their leader is crumbling to the floor and they all shoot to their feet. Aegon is ever silently sitting next to me watching me in silent awe.

“Enough!” they shout and I slowly begin to pull my magic back.

“Bring him out.” the leader coughs as his breathing simmers.

The only features that I see are different about the man walking into the room in front of me is shorter hair and blue eyes. Aegon stands as he approaches and looks to him shaking his head. He turns to me with tears in his eyes and I rise to his side. The three of us link hands and shut our eyes and when we open them we are back in our small apartment in Bravos.

“Can I do it now?” he releases my hands as the man with us looks blankly ahead.

“Before you do,” I pull him to me and place my lips on his. “I would be content to spend the rest of my days with you as you are now, Aegon.” I pull back look to him and nod my head.

He turns to the man and pulls a knife from his waist. He brings it up and quickly slips it across the man’s neck and helps him ease to the ground. As he rises I look to the scarred man on the ground and begin to trail my eyes up to the man before me. As my eyes travel up to his face I see he’s still focused on his former self on the ground.

“How strange.” Aegon says tilting his head at the body. “I feel so free.” his eyes make their way to mine as I take in his now stormy blue eyes.

“Your magic is the same. You are the same Aegon to me.” I wave my hand at the body and it disappears into a black cloud of shadow.

He pulls me to the bath room and he stares in the mirror. He’s touching his face and running his fingers through his hair. For the first time I truly feel his magic settled and content. It rests against mine lulling it. Our eyes lock in the mirror and he turns to me.

“Do you like the way I look?” he asks me nervously.

“I do.” I reassure him pulling him into a hug.

“I can kiss you properly now.” he murmurs into my neck. “My face won’t feel so rough. Both of my hands will be smooth as they explore every inch of you. I have a full head of hair you can pull on when I’m buried between your thighs. Men won’t think they can so easily steal you from me.” his words are laced with promises that tear through me.

“You know I didn’t care what you looked like before.” I whisper holding him tighter to me.

“But I did. So thank you for helping me.” he kisses my neck softly as I shutter. “I never expected you to do this for me when you walked into my chambers all those moons ago.” he holds me tighter still peppering kisses along my pulse.

He kisses up my jaw until he locks our lips together. His hand buries itself in my hair molding me to him. I moan into his mouth and pull him closer to me. My hands trail up to his now short hair and pull it as he groans into my mouth.

“I want you, I need you. Please,” he pulls back from my lips and looks to me desperately as I feel his need pulsing around the room.

“You have me.” I nod to him as he attaches his lips back to mine.

He walks us out of the bathroom and into our bedroom. He starts to pull off my dress quickly and groans when he takes in my body. His hands immediately roam over my skin as I shiver at his soft touch. His fingertips are hot with his magic thrumming through him.

“I just want to touch you.” he says softly as he lays me back on the bed.

His hands glide along my curves and he settles above me. He kisses me once more as his fingers dip between my legs. I shutter at his light teasing touches as he chuckles against my lips.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?” I whine as his fingers travel around my core avoiding where I want him.

He kisses down my throat and licks across my chest. He sucks a nipple into his mouth as a gasp falls from my mouth. His other hand goes to my other to flick against it until I’m pushing my chest up into his face. His short hair tickles across my stomach as he dips between my thighs. He kisses my thighs as I try to control my breathing as I watch him.

He licks slowly up my slit and my head falls back to the pillow. His tongue spreads my wetness before licking up to my clit swirling around it. He closes his lips around me and begins a rhythm that has me bucking into his mouth.

“Aegon,” his name falls from my lips repeatedly as my hand snakes into his hair.

He groans against me and continues to lick against me. I come on his mouth as he continues at a faster speed before slamming his fingers into me. My legs try to shut around his head and he just chuckles into my core as my legs capture him. His fingers quicken and I’m moaning like I belong in a pleasure house and he tears more pleasure from me.

“I’d be happy to spend the rest of my days here.” he kisses my sensitive bud causing me to shutter.

He rises off the bed and I look at him with heavy eyes. He slowly removes his clothes as if he’s taunting me and I sit there and lick my lips patiently. He looks to me with darkened eyes as he strokes himself.

“I was worried my cock would be smaller.” he chuckles lowly as I squirm watching him touch himself.

He crawls over me and takes my lips for his own. I feel the confidence of his movements and he becomes more sure of himself. He grinds his hips against mine as he slides through my wetness. He lines himself up and pushes into me groaning loudly.

I whimper as he starts to move his hips. At first it’s slow and then it turns into the fiery passion like his magic. His hips pound into mine as I cling to him. His lips swallow my moans as kisses me full of teeth and tongue. His hips start to falter as I grind my hips against his.

“I’m sorry I’m not gunna last much longer,” he grunts against my mouth as he chases his pleasure.

His magic caresses against mine and I feel hot pleasure wash over me as his warmth begins to fill me. I clench around him while his hips continue to slowly grind into me. He kisses me slowly as he allows us to continue to feel our pleasure. He releases me and lays next to me but pulls me close against him.

“I never would’ve thought I could do that again. I was scared I would have to fantasize about you forever.” he giggles as he starts to pepper kisses across my chest.

“Aegon,” I whimper as my hand flies to his hair.

“Do you want me to grow it out again?” he looks up to me.

“Whatever makes you happy,” I hum down at him.

“What about my eyes? Are you sad they aren’t violet anymore?” he searches my eyes.

“I love your blue eyes as much as I did your violet ones.” I hum cupping the side of his face.

“Do you want to stay in Bravos or should we go somewhere else?” he looks to me.

“Let’s decide that in the morning.” I bring his lips to mine once more.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

#aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii targaryen #hotd smut #hotd fic #hotd x reader #aegon smut #x reader #x reader smut #got smut #reader smut #hotd fanfic

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itsmarsss · 7 months ago

Text

stupid. [Peter Maximoff x Reader] (X-Men)

[~from the vault~]

Friends kiss all the time, right? Right?

Word count: 2,062

Warnings: none i don't think i even use the word fuck here like who even was i this is just fluff

[. . .]

“Okay, truth or dare?” Jubilee asked Peter, an unmistakably mischievous look on her face.

It was funny, actually, to think that a group of mutant teenagers with unimaginable powers would be spending their weekend doing such mundane things, such as throwing a party and playing truth or dare like a bunch of seventh graders, but the truth is that none of you ever really had the chance to have that before, most always too weird to be with the normal kids.

So, truth or dare on a saturday night in the middle of the woods it was.

And of course you knew how this was going to go. You didn’t even have to be his best friend to know what he would pick without a hint of hesitation.

“You know it,” Peter replied with a signature smirk.

Scott let out a groan. “There’s not even anything for you to do anymore!”

“There’s still plenty of stuff for me to do!” Peter defended himself, a hand over his chest feigning offense.

“No, he’s right! You never pick truth!” Warren joined Scott in complaining.

“Because I’m not boring! You guys are just laaaame.”

“I don’t know, lick that tree over there or something,” Jubilee murmured, uninterested.

“What? That’s all you got? Come on, you can do better! Dare me to run to Hawaii or something!”

“How would we know you actually went to Hawaii?” Kurt asked, and Peter tilted his head to the side, realizing what he said made sense.

“Just pick truth already!” Jean exclaimed, clearly annoyed at the amount of time his turn was taking.

Peter put his arms up in surrender. “Okay, fine! But it’s gonna be lame.”

Jubilee quickly seemed to gain her excitement again, smiling as she thought of what to ask, snapping her fingers as she finally landed upon a question. “Okay! Have you and Y/N kissed before?”

He seemed to be taken by surprise, shifting in his seat, and you felt your own cheeks burning, hoping the lack of light would hide it. Of course she would want to ask something like that.

“C’mon. Something not so lame. What are we, 12?”

“Answer the question!” Scott egged him on, and Peter looked at you, silently asking you what to do. You didn’t even say anything, but you assumed he noticed how flustered you were, as he decided to spare you and lie.

“No. Happy?”

You thought they would let it go, but got confused when everyone other than you and Peter turned to Jean, who, after a moment, spoke up. “He’s lying,” she affirmed.

And then it was chaos.

“Oh my God! When?”

“I knew it!”

“Holy shit how was it?”

“Stop reading my mind, witch!” Peter yelled. You knew him. Usually he’d be pretty proud to talk about how he 'got with the girl' or whatever. But Peter also knew you, and you both knew that you had specifically agreed to not talk about this. So he tried to change the subject. “Okay, okay, that’s not how this works. You have your answer, now spin the bottle again.”

“But-”

“Those are the rules, Scotty.”

Annoyed, Scott reached out to spin the bottle again, and Peter winked at you. You smiled at him in return, thanking him silently. You were smart enough to know they would bug you about it later but at least you were fine for now, with enough time to come up with some bullshit excuse before you got bombarded with questions.

“Y/n it’s your turn.”

Well, maybe not so much time.

You were taken out of your thoughts by Jean’s words, averting your eyes to the bottle in front of you. Fair enough, it landed on you. Such luck.

“Truth or dare?” Scott asked you, unable to hide a grin.

“Come on, Scott.”

“You gotta choose!”

“Truth?”

“Tell us how that kiss happened.”

“Dare.”

“I… dare you to tell us how the kiss happened.”

“That’s not fair-”

“Those are the rules,” Warren intervened, repeating what Peter had said earlier, and you shot him a death glare.

“You know I could kill you right?”

“You like me too much,” he smiled, and you sighed. You considered leaving the game, but you knew they would just annoy you until you talked.

“Fine. It was nothing, okay? We were on a mission and we had to improvise, that’s it.”

Scott’s eyebrows were furrowed together. “Wait it was for a mission?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“But then it doesn’t count!”

Warren chimed in again. “What? Yes it counts-”

You looked over at Peter while all your friends debated the validity of your kiss , but he looked confused. “What?” You mouthed to him.

“That wasn’t our first kiss,” he blurted out, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world, very clearly not thinking before he spoke. Everybody else went quiet.

Warren was the first one to break the silence. “First kiss? Wait, how many times have you kissed?”

“No- it was-” Peter tried to save himself, but it was way too late. Now they wouldn’t leave you alone.

“You have to tell us!” Kurt exclaimed, and you almost felt mad at him. Almost.

Peter cleared his throat. “It was uh- when we were kids? Cause I told you I’d never kissed anyone?”

“Oh but if the mission one doesn’t count then that doesn’t count either. We were like ten!”

“What, were you not a person at ten years old?”

“Come on our real first kiss was that night at the movies wasn’t it? With the… the werewolf movie.”

“No cause that was after the one at the diner.”

“No it wasn’t! It was that one, then the time in your basement, then the diner.”

“But it doesn’t make-” Peter stopped and looked around.

“What?” You did the same, only to see your friends look like they’d seen a ghost. They were all wide-eyed, either looking at you and Peter or at each other, trying to process the conversation the two of you were having. Okay, so maybe you got a little carried away accidentally.

“Uh-”

And then chaos again.

“You’ve kissed how many times now?”

“Are you sure you’re not together?”

“We’ve been trying to get you together for months! Months! And you tell me this?”

“But we-” you started, but what were you really gonna say? You were the one to talk too much.

Peter stood up. “We… are leaving.” He held his hand up for you to take, and you did so, standing up too. In no time you were in his room at the school, and things were awkward.

You sat down on his bed while he sat down on the chair by his desk, both in silence for a while, neither sure what to say. It was pretty common for you to do that, ignore this kind of thing. As you’d just talked about, you’d had those kinds of moments quite a few times before, but you always ended up unspokenly agreeing to not talk about it after. But it seemed that this time there was no choice.

“Um so.”

He lifted his gaze from the floor to you. “Yeah.”

“I uh. I didn’t realize uh. How many times we’ve- you know.”

“Yeah.” He was fidgeting with his fingers, looking at his hands instead of at you. You were kind of thankful for it.

“You think they’ll be too annoying about it?”

“Have you met them?”

You laughed. “Yeah. Maybe we should have just not played the game.”

“I’m sorry. Or whatever.”

“For what?”

“For bringing it up. It just… came out, you know how I speak without thinking-”

“It’s fine. We’ve kissed a few times, so what?”

“Yeah. Right. It’s what friends do! Right?” He finally looked at you.

“Yes! Platonic friends kiss sometimes. It’s normal.”

“Yeah! Totally. Totally.”

There was silence after that. One that indicated how incredibly not normal it all was.

“Can I ask you something?” Peter blurted out, out of the blue.

“Okay.”

“Did you… like… kissing me?”

“What?”

"Huh?" He pretended he hadn’t said anything, immediately regretting saying it.

Silence again.

You thought for a moment. “Yeah.”

“What?”

“I liked it. Did you not?”

“I don’t- I-” He stood up in superspeed, but stayed within distance from you. “Yeah. A- a lot.”

“Does that- I mean that’s still like. Normal right?”

“Yeah I mean who- it’s kissing right? Why would- why wouldn’t we like that?”

“Right. Right. Yeah, of course.”

“Would it be that bad?”

“What do you mean?”

“If we were like- you know- not… friends.”

You quirked an eyebrow, and his eyes widened. “Not like that! I mean if we were like, more.”

“Like… if we dated.” It was a statement, but a question too. Were you getting this right?

“Wuh- Yeah. I guess.”

You had no idea what was going on now. After a long time of getting teased by your friends to no end about the blurry lines of your friendship with Peter, you learned to scold yourself when you caught your thoughts drifting to that. After all, you couldn’t- it would just ruin your friendship, and you didn’t want to lose your best friend.

But now here he was, right in front of you, asking you if it would be so bad if you dated.

…would it?

“Why?”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I just wanna know why you’re asking!”

“Well cause maybe I’d like it if we were dating!”

“Yeah sure,” you let out a laugh.

“I’m.. not joking.”

You went quiet.

“I know I’m not serious about… well anything I guess,” he let out a small laugh, “but I’m being like 100%, totally for real with you right now.”

“So you have… feelings for me. That’s what you’re saying.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not joking.”

“No! Why would I joke about that?”

“We joke about that all the time!”

“Not right now!”

“You know I’m 100% kicking your ass if you are, right?”

“I… am pretty aware.”

“Okay.”

He looked at you expectantly, but you didn’t even know what to think about this situation, let alone what to say.

“Okay? So?” Of course, this was still your Peter, extremely nosey and incredibly impatient.

You took a good look at him. Did you like him the same way he apparently liked you?

Peter was annoying. He was loud and a lot of times way too much, and he always ended up getting you into embarrassing situations. If you ever got in trouble, it was pretty safe to say it was probably his fault. He was stubborn and cocky and annoyingly good at making things play out his way.

But he was your best friend. And he was wearing his stupid silver jacket that matched his stupid silver hair and a stupid graphic shirt with a stupid bear that wore sunglasses on it and the stupid Star Wars pin that you gave him for his stupid fourteenth birthday. He was so utterly and completely stupid, and it was stupid to think this could work.

And maybe you were stupid too, because it seemed that you liked him, a stupid amount.

“Okay, don’t get too cocky, now.”

He kept staring at you, expecting your next words.

“I like you too.”

“As in... more than a friend?”

“No I’m actually friendzoning you.”

Finally he opened a grin, relaxing as he caught on to your teasing tone. Now that looked more like him. “Are you? That’s good. I was actually gonna tell you I changed my mind.”

“You did?”

He walked towards you, in a normal speed for once. “Yeah. I think we should stay friends.”

You nodded. “Yeah me too.”

“Friends kiss, right?”

“Platonically.”

“Yeah, platonically.”

You laughed at how ridiculous that excuse sounded now. “We’re so stupid.”

Hee shook his head. “I don’t know what youre talking about.”

You didn’t have time to keep the joke going, as he finally pulled you closer and leaned in.

You’d kissed a good amount of times before, but this time was different. It wasn’t impulsive, and you weren’t going to regret it after. You wouldn’t have to pretend it didn’t happen when it was over, and you really, really liked the thought of that.

But, of course, you did live with your really, really nosey friends, who you hadn’t noticed had been standing by the door.

“You guys are so confusing!”

Okay, it would be really stupid to think you would ever be able to live this one down.

[. . .]

A/N: treating you guys to these cute little oneshots today past mars was such a cutie i was gonna say i miss her but i dont really

#x-men #the x-men #peter maximoff #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #x-men imagine #x-men x reader #x men #x men comics #x men movies #x men x reader #x men imagine #mars writes

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shesjustanothergeek · 5 months ago

Text

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Two: The Gods' Light

IAemond Targaryen x Strong! Readerl

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Writing a child's inner dialogue was interesting. Besides being very plain and blunt, I didn't know how to write it. Writing for a child will be challenging, but I'm more than up for it. Enjoy reading! :)

Chapter Warnings: Aegon is psychotic, animal cruelty, just sibling things, Alicent being dululu.

As you hurried through the echoing halls of the Red Keep, your swift strides outpacing those of your brothers, you clutched a dragon egg close to your chest. You could feel its smooth, warm surface drumming with growing life beneath your fingers, determined not to let it slip from your grasp. The moment’s thrill spurred you on as you raced through the ancient corridors.

Moments ago, as you sat with Jace and Luke, enjoying a midday meal of goat cheese and dried meats, Ser Harwin suddenly appeared in the garden, out of breath from his hurried journey from Maegor’s Holdfast. He excitedly conveyed the news that your mother had just given birth. The announcement filled you with anticipation, eager to visit the Dragonpit and choose an egg from Syrax’s clutch for the new arrival.

You were restricted from visiting your dragon whenever you desired, making each visit to the Pit a momentous occasion. Gaelithox, your loyal mount, was only accessible during carefully organized training sessions under the vigilant supervision of the Keepers and your trusted protector. While you had made remarkable progress with your affectionate dragon, the Keepers could not trust you with it alone.

Jace was still grappling with getting Vermax to heed simple commands. The memory of the Keepers urging your younger brother to stand firm and not yield to fear remained vivid. However, when the volatile olive-scaled juvenile lunged forward, Jace faltered and tumbled onto his back, leaving a lasting impression as Aegon and Aemond teased him for days. Unlike Aegon, whose voice echoed like a cackling witch from the tales your maids told before bed, you stifled laughter. Later that evening, your mother reprimanded you when Jace told the incident during supper, silently mouthing the words ‘tattletale’ to your slightly younger brother.

But none of that mattered now. Mother had a babe, and you desperately wished for a sister. It wasn’t that you disliked your brothers; it was just lonely. Jace and Luke shared their Septon with Aegon and Aemond, and you had Septa Marlow, your mother’s former teacher. It was so incredibly boring to sit there in silence with the old crone droning on and on about the duty of a high-born lady, different types of needlework, dances, manners, other Houses, and the importance of virtue, a word you had yet to understand the meaning of.

You asked your mother on more than one occasion to allow you to learn with Helaena, but she said no, saying something about how she was an odd girl with a fascination for unusual things. You didn’t understand why that was a bad trait. You liked how Helaena played with bugs, recalling the many times you counted the legs of crickets you found underneath rocks in the gardens for her.

When the flowers of King’s Landing had blossomed in the spring, you pleaded with your mother to allow you to spend a day with Helaena in the Godswood. Spring brought out all the little creatures, and your Aunt was always chatty during this time. You fondly remember spending hours capturing beetles, crickets, dragonflies, grasshoppers, and numerous moths and butterflies. You ended up with so many of them that you barely had enough jars to take to your Aunt’s room.

The atmosphere was filled with joy until Aegon arrived. His usual confident stride was noticeably absent, and it was clear that he was not in good spirits. This was unusual, as Aegon was typically the epitome of happiness, and his distress weighed heavily on you. Acting on impulse, you beckoned him over. As he stood before you and his sister, his hands tucked in his pockets, you tried to cheer him up by sharing the day’s events with a hopeful smile. When you suggested showing him a butterfly, he nodded in agreement. You retrieved one carefully, handing it as gently as Helaena had taught you, being mindful not to harm its delicate wings.

You opened your palms slowly to show him. It was bright yellow with black markings, fluttering softly in your grasp. You told him to be careful as you tenderly placed it in Aegon’s hands and told him about the multiflora rose bush you found it from. Turning your head to show him where it was, Aegon crushed the butterfly in his fist, smashing the thinly winged insect as the off-white guts splattered across his palms. You couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing to something you and Helaena took great pride in, never mind that the creature was innocent of whatever hateful reasoning he had behind this.

You recalled how Aegon wiped the remnants of the butterfly across your shocked face in finality and smiled the smile you hoped for, showing the crumpled, wiry black legs and torn shreds of paper-thin wings on his palm.

Helaena screamed. You can still remember the sound of it, piercing your ears and making them feel as if they bled. Aegon rubbed the tiny leftover specs of the carcass onto her head to get her to quiet, bellowing the same cackle he always did. After that, you couldn’t recall much, only a sudden anger you had never felt before, blurry vision, and being pulled off Aegon’s whimpering form. You were still unsure about how you found yourself pummeling your uncle’s face in the same way he did the bug.

The Queen, accompanied by Ser Criston, discovered you trying to embrace Helaena. However, the young girl shied away, retreating into a crouched position, her knees to her chest and her face buried between them. Overwhelmed with emotion, you sought solace in Queen Alicent’s arms, burying your head in her skirts. As she inquired about the events, she tenderly ran her jeweled hands over your messy hair while you struggled to say your feelings, too choked up to speak coherently. She lifted you into her arms in a comforting gesture, providing security and reassurance.

You remembered how her scent lingered in the air—frankincense mixed with something more worldly, a delicate aroma that clung to her soft skin and auburn hair. With a determined expression, she assured you that Aegon would be punished for his actions, a look of resolve you had never seen on her before. She then gently carried you over to her eldest son, who was still visibly upset, wiping at his eyes and tending to his busted lip.

Alicent ordered him to apologize, you still in her arms, your face hidden within her neck as your crying turned to sniffles. Aegon did it begrudgingly, and you could tell he did not mean it, but it was enough to appease the Queen as she carried you to her chambers, commanding a maid to bring a fresh bowl of warm water and lemon tarts, though you much-preferred orange, with some floral smelling tea.

With the tenderness reminiscent of your mother, she gently wiped away the tears and butterfly guts from your face, reassuring you that you were a radiant embodiment of the Seven’s divine light, as lovely as the Maiden herself, and expressed her pride in having someone with a sense of justice akin to the Father’s at her side.

You never understood why your mother didn’t want you to be around the Queen. She was lovely and kind and always had the tastiest snacks at her disposal. You remembered wishing one night after she had yelled at you for running away from your Septa that Queen Alicent was your mother. She would never hurt your feelings as your birth mother had.

“I want to show Mother the egg!” Luke whined at you as you reached her bed chamber doors.

“No, I’m going to,” you tell Luke, keeping the egg closer.

“But why?” he asked, sounding on the verge of tears, petulantly stomping his tiny foot.

“Because I’m the eldest,” you quipped as you kept the egg out of his grasp.

“Luke was the one who chose it! You just picked it up,” Jace countered, sounding way too smart for his good.

You started to voice your objections once more, but just then, Ser Harwin turned the corner and caught up with the group of you. Anticipating that Luke would inform Harwin about your refusal to give him the egg, you let out an exaggerated groan, rolled your eyes, and reluctantly handed it to your younger brother.

“Little Princes and Princess, you know better than to run away from me. I should tell your mother about this.” For a moment, you were worried that Ser Harwin might be serious, but then you saw his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“We won’t do it again, Ser Harwin,” Jace answered. You knew he was lying; your mother’s sworn protector seemed to think that, too.

“We will be calm when we enter, yes?” Ser Harwin commanded rather than asked.

You all nod, not saying a peep as he opens the door to your Mother’s chambers, though the sound of three pairs of little feet running across the stone floor defeats Harwin Strong’s fleeting hope.

“Look what we brought, mother!” Jacaerys exclaimed, showing her the near-black-scaled egg in his grasp. “We chose the egg for the babe!”

The Princess sat in a cushioned chair, her arms cradling a small bundle wrapped in intricately sewn brown and gold fabric. From within the bundle, tiny grunts were heard, adding to the air of anticipation and curiosity in the room.

“That looks like the perfect one,” she kindly replied, grunting as she shifted in her seat.

Your mother smiled at the three of you, leaning forward in her cushioned armchair to show her newest addition to her pride and joy. Pulling the fabric that obscured your sibling’s face away, you stared, a coo of awe filling the air as your brothers placed the dragon egg into the warming pot. He didn’t look much of anything right now, save for the same brown eyes the three of you shared. Your brother’s skin flushed peachy as he opened his toothless mouth to yawn.

“I let Luke choose,” you added, tugging the fabric as you poked his plump cheek. It was soft and warm under your finger, smoother than anything you had ever felt.

Your mother placed a hand on the crown of your brown hair, a stark contrast to the white of hers and your father’s as she caressed the silky strands. “Thank you, my darling. That was very kind.”

“It is not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit, Princess,” Ser Harwin spoke, a pride you didn’t have to look to see heard within his voice. “I thought it best to escort the lads and lady.”

“Laenor and I thank you, Commander,” she nodded gratefully, the tips of her teeth showing between her pink lips.

The adults continued to converse, but you and your siblings were too concerned with the new addition to pay any attention. Jace and Luke soon found their way to your side, Ser Harwin standing behind your mother with a gentle smile as they peered into the fabric.

“Why doesn’t he have any teeth?” Luke questioned, his dark brows drawn together in confusion. Your mother chuckled and glanced at her sworn protector above as you answered.

“He was born a few hours ago, Luke. Of course he doesn’t have teeth,” you jeered, staring incredulously at him.

“Now, be nice, dear heart,” Rhaenyra scolded. “He has never seen a babe before. You asked the same questions when he was born.”

You scowled with sealed lips, returning your vision to the bundle in her arms. He was cute, but when your mother told you his name and that you were waiting for your father to come, you sighed, plopping onto a plush settee.

“Joffrey?” Jace asked, ignoring a begging Luke pleading to hold his brother.

“Joffrey,” she answered gracefully. “A name your father and I chose together like all of you.” She stroked the lanugo hair on your brother’s head, bringing her lips to his crown.

You stared at your mother with scrunched brows, confused about why they picked such a non-Targaryen and Velaryon name. She indeed named her children in Laenor’s absence, but you knew she did not name you.

“Queen Alicent named me mother. Not you. She said you weren’t expecting a girl, so you had her decide.” Rhaenyra’s violet eyes flicked to you, a look you could only understand as restrained annoyance on her chiseled face. You did not mean to upset her, your head lowering in embarrassment. You were only telling the truth.

“And what an honor it is to be named by the Queen Consort,” she expressed, a slight smile on her rosy lips. Her strained voice betrayed any tenderness she attempted to show, furthering your shame in displeasing her for only saying what you believed was fact.

The embarrassment did not last long. Your father barreled through the door with the sound of boisterous laughter. You shot out of your seat, your brothers hollering in greeting as your father swooped you into his strong arms without warning. You squealed. You kicked your feet with joy as Laenor Velaryon held you within his warm embrace, a smile gracing his features as he swung your wiggling form back and forth.

Rhaenyra smiled gracefully, still holding your younger brother in her tired arms. She observed the three of you clinging to your father as his companion stood a respectable distance away. Her heart felt complete at the sight, and her exhausted gaze traveled to Ser Harwin, a soft grin squinting her eyes.

“Father, what stories of your travels do you have?” Jace asked, eager, a grin pulling his cherubic cheeks as you flung over Laenor’s shoulder with a giggle.

You waved to Ser Qarl, his chiseled face offering a teasing look as you giggled. Luke’s mop of brown curls barely reached your father’s waist as he hugged him, peering up. His dark eyes were wide with excitement as you waited for the exciting tales he would undoubtedly have for you three.

Before your father could answer, your mother spoke, her maternal presence reasoning like a cloud covering the scorching sun, her voice firm but gentle. She commanded you to leave with the squire and your father. Each of you attempted to argue with her, groaning that you hadn’t seen him for a moon and wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Mother, it’s been forever since we last saw Father!” Jace complained, his tone so whiney and spoiled that it had Ser Harwin chuckling.

“You will give me no lip, you three,” she commanded sternly, her face glistening with sweat. “You shall hear all your father has to say and more once you finish your lessons in the Pit.”

Rhaenyra nodded to her husband as she placed your new brother into Ser Harwin’s arms, observing for a long moment as her lithe fingers stroked the silky skin of the babe’s temple. With a grunt, Laenor placed you back onto the ground, bestowing each of you a kiss on your dark crowns before the squire and Laenor led the trio of you out.

The air was always thick within the Dragonpit, blankets of smoke from torches and incense permeating the cavernous expanse of the halls as it struggled to cover the scent of dragon. When you entered, it nearly choked your lungs, constantly rubbing at your watery eyes as the Dragonkeepers brought forth your little dragon from the deep with rattling chains.

Your uncles, Aemond and Aegon, stood beside you and your brothers in green garments. The younger’s freckled face was sullen as he watched your juvenile dragon flap its viridian wings, kicking its chained legs impatiently. Aegon appeared bored, sputtering his lips and rolling his violet eyes with annoyance.

You ignored the eldest prince, giggling at your mount’s antics, and took a step forward, reaching an unguarded palm out before a Keeper abruptly smacked it away. Gaelithox released a loud hiss at the Elder’s action, strings of saliva splattering on the stone floor as his blood-red eyes bulged out of their sockets, jerking his chains. Scowling, you crossed your arms, waiting for their instructions as you quelled the ire that began to rise at their scolding.

Aegon released a chuckle from behind, swaying on his feet as you turned, fixing him and Aemond, who mirrored his expressions with a fiery glare. You had always felt that your uncles disliked you, and even though they were of a similar age, you did not feel comfortable in their company, a constant bubbly sensation that felt like a beast was attempting to claw out of your stomach whenever Aegon or Aemond was near. Yet a part of you still craved their attention, their acceptance, feeling that if you did whatever one of them wanted, finally, they would like you.

It never worked, at least not truly.

Eventually, you found that if you could not receive the validation from both, one would do.

When Aemond and Aegon followed you to the gardens one summer afternoon, both intent on harping about your “insulting appearance to the eyes,” you snapped. It was the first time you heard the word bastard hurled towards you. You were five years of age and had yet to understand.

Your mother always told you to treat your uncles kindly even when they did not do the same. The goodness in you did not want to hurt them, whether it be physically or their feelings, but with no brothers to defend you and no guards around to escort you away, you were left with no choice after Aemond yanked a piece of your dark hair so hard it came out of your scalp.

“I am more of a Targaryen than you, Aemond! I have a dragon!”

You turned to Aegon next, ready to scream that even though he was born a male, your mother remained the Iron Throne’s heir, but the words stayed inside you. The king’s eldest son stopped you with a boisterous laugh, placing a gangly arm on your shoulder as he praised you for your immature insults.

Something shifted in the dynamic between the five of you that day. No longer were you and your brothers the dirt underneath your uncle’s shoes. Now, the four of you were comrades. The relationship was still tense, but you had found the secret to redirecting your torment.

“Princess,” the Dragonkeeper translated the other, “you have excelled in your bonding with Gaelithox, but he is still young and unpredictable.” You looked into the man’s eyes, anxious to hear what the next task for you to master would be.

Yes, Gaeli was still a juvenile, not yet grown into his leafy-colored body, the red scales lining his sides and wings placed with a lighter yellow-green, but he was bound to you. That was the most crucial part. There could be no command of an animal if it did not trust you and you, them. It took everything within not to roll your eyes.

“Ivestragī zirȳla jikagon,” (Let him go) the Elder Keeper nodded, having the others release the chains of your dragon.

Gaeli stalked forward, his clawed legs slapping on the stone floor as he hissed, his arrowhead swaying and observing the people before him. You could hear the panicked whispers of the men, demanding you tell your dragon to stop as he continued his swift march forward. You understood that his intent was the Elder who chastised you and had half a mind to allow Gaeli to scare him, his crimson orbs set on the man who did not falter.

Jace grabbed the hem of your matching navy skirt in anxiety and attempted to pull you back, fearing what the dragon might do, but you held steadfast, a self-assured smirk gracing your features.

“Kelīs!” (Halt) you commanded confidently with your chest, beaming once your dragon ceased its pursuit with the tilt of its triangle-shaped head.

Aegon appeared bored with the ordeal, exaggerating a yawn as he flipped his frizzy blonde hair from his face. You could not ignore the pang of hurt at his disinterest, seeking more validation and praise from him that you would not get unless at someone’s expense. Aemond had hidden his face from your view behind his older brother, his sun-spotted cheeks dusted pink as you peered around to make eye contact, only for him to sneer and turn away.

Twat.

“Pay close attention, Uncle Aemond. Mayhaps one day you will be in this position, but I do believe it won’t be for a very long, long time,” you snickered, the sensation of less than leaving as you noticed Aegon’s smirk. Facing the Keeper and his translator, you could never remember the name of once more, you spoke. “When will I be able to fly Gaeli? I am able to control him well enough.”

The older man grimaced, wiping the sweat across his ebony brow as he gave an unconvincing expression. “Gaelithox is not yet riding age, and there is still much for you to learn, your highness, before you are ready to make such feats,” the translator expressed.

A pout formed on your plush lips, looking to Gaeli and back to the half a dozen Keepers and Wards. It was as if your dragon could sense your annoyance, releasing a deep hiss within the back of his throat and unhinging his jaw as he lunged at the Elder, swiftly jerked by the chains at his ankles. You could not hide your amusement at the adolescent and earned a scolding in High Valyrian that you could not comprehend nor care about.

“Gaelithox kostagon botta aōha botagon. Pōnta issi vēdros. Istia gūrēñagon naejot control zirȳ gō kostā kipagon.” (Gaelithox can sense your emotions. They are volatile, but you must learn to control them before you can ride.)

A grin spread across your plump cheeks, a mischievous thought coming to mind as you turned to look at Aegon, who was still quite bored. The hurt did not lessen, and quickly, you glanced at the Keepers out of the corner of your eye as you took a few paces back, ensuring your brothers were behind you as you inhaled and spoke the few words you knew of High Valyrian off your pink tongue.

“Sōvēs!” (fly)

Gaelithox didn’t hesitate for a moment. With a mighty leap, he soared into the air, his shimmering emerald wings creating a whirlwind of dirt and debris that engulfed the Keepers. His joyful songs filled the air as he gracefully flew above you, the chains on his legs and torso barely out of the reach of the Dragonwards. You watched in wonder as your dragonling glided effortlessly across the ceiling of the Pit, moving above each of you with the grace and agility of a bird. The men in their gray and crimson garb scattered around the cave’s entrance like ants whose hill had been disturbed, desperately trying to seize Gaeli’s chains.

As you turned to look behind, you bloomed, a smile so bright on your countenance that you felt it would burn all who witnessed it. Jace and Luke stared at you proudly, the youngest trying to run to you but was held back by a Kingsguard. Luke still had much to learn with Arrax. For one, your little brother was deathly afraid of him despite his denial, an emotion the dragon could sense during the training sessions.

A surge of relief washed over you as you looked at Aegon, whose laughter filled the air in response to your impish choices. He warmly placed his pale, sinewy hand on your shoulder in approval while his younger brother Aemond remained concealed behind him. Despite the Dragonkeepers’ urgent calls for Gaelithox to land, you couldn’t help but savor the feeling of self-satisfaction that his gesture brought.

“Ao dovodedha riña! Aōha giēñilaros hen bisa ozletti kessa sagon se morghon hen sȳz vali! Aōha muña kessa rȳbagon hen bisa,” (You ignorant girl! Your misuse of this bond will be the death of good men! Your mother will hear of this) the Elder shouted, grabbing your shoulders as if his ire could force sense into you.

Once you decided that you had tortured the handlers enough, you told Gaeli to land, which he did so with low, begrudging noises, the vibration of his weight rattling your bones. The rest of the training session went uneventful as you commanded your mount to stay, lay down, and heel, the usual tricks that you and Gaeli had long grown bored of after the first successful attempts.

When your dragon was tired, nipping at the Keepers who tried to redirect him back to the task, they called an end, bringing forth a white and brown goat as a reward for Gaeli’s patience, a bell jingling around its neck. His scaly, clawed feet tapped against the floor with an excited rhythm, evoking the image of a pup eagerly anticipating its meal. He suddenly lunged towards it but halted abruptly in response to your brief noise.

“Lykirī. Where are your manners, Gaeli?” (Be calm), you teased, earning a quick reprimand from the Head Dragonkeeper for your childishness.

“You must treat these beasts with caution and respect, Princess, lest you get burned. They are wild, barely tamed creatures. They allow you this bond,” the translator conveyed, his accent thick and worry etched in his tone.

You groaned, interrupted by an impatient screech from your dragon as a line of drool dropped from in between his finger-length fangs. After a quick apology, you allowed Gaelithox to feast, commanding with a decisive “dracarys.” The red eyes of your dragon shone like rubies in his orange flames. His obsidian pupils slit as he burned the goat to a charred crisp, tearing at its flesh into chunks.

After begrudging praise from the Keepers as they led Gaeli back into his nest, it was now Jace’s turn to repeat the same routine, although much less eventful. He was anxious to train Vermax, barely containing his excitement as his dragon whistled. His mount approached him with purpose, olive and scarlet toned body thumping with each step as the younger Keeper translated the Elder’s words.

“Call Vermax to heel Prince Jacaerys.”

Jace looked to the dark-skinned man who scolded you for your arrogance earlier, scars across his skin and listened.

“Dohaerās.” (Serve) And Vermax obeyed, stopping a few paces before your barely younger brother, horned head tilting in interest.

The Elder looked down at your brother, a proud smile on his bearded mouth, and nodded in approval. You should have felt the same that Jace was advancing in his sessions and closely catching up to you, but all you felt was the burning sensation of envy in your stomach, which you buried with an encouraging expression to your brother. You did not understand why you felt such a thing as he was urged back to his dragon, who had taken notice of a snow-white sheep belting in the distance.

He was your brother, your twin, as close to the same as one could be. It would be best if you were ecstatic that Jace was blossoming into a fine dragon knight. Still, you did not, and guilt and jealousy overwhelmed you as he waited for the instructions, an overeager Vermax ready to devour the unaware sheep.

Just as quickly as the feeling came, it went as you watched how Vermax disobeyed Jace’s commands to halt his pursuit of the animal. The only thing holding the young dragon back was the Warders’ staff.

“You must hold mastery over your dragon, my young prince,” the translator spoke, “as Prince Aegon has with Sunfyre.” High Valyrian rolled off the Elder’s tongue with deep rumbles as he talked to an embarrassed Jace. “Once they are fully bound to you, they will refuse to take instruction from any other, much like your older sister.”

Vermax released an ear-piercing screech of frustration as his yellow eyes bore into the roped sheep, belting in primal terror as it attempted to escape a fate over which it had no control. Jace nodded to the older man, shame replaced with excitement coursing through his veins as he hopped from foot to foot.

“Can I say it?” he asked anxiously, brown eyes wide with a youthful glow that reflected your own with your dragonling. The Elder nodded in affirmation as Jace glanced back to you and where you stood in front of Aegon, the man swiftly pushing your brother forward in admonishment for his brief action of immature reassurance.

Your brother turned with a broad smile you feared would split his face in two as you heard the shuffle of shoes behind you. Aemond found himself peering over your shorter form as he studied the dragon, slinking closer and closer to its prey, screeches of a predator ready to pounce echoing off the caverns. You looked at your younger uncle with confusion. Your eyebrows scrunched together as he paid you no mind. Unsure of why you did so, you took a step to the side, allowing him more room to observe as your brother shouted gleefully.

“Dracarys, Vermax!”

Perhaps a subconscious part of you felt bad for your dragonless uncle, hoping to give him at least a taste of what power one felt when in command of a beast such as this. Besides, it was the right thing to do. You knew he would not notice such kindness from you and did not expect anything in return, nor did you want it, as Vermax’s orange flames charred the flesh of the snow-white sheep.

You approached Jace once the lesson ended, giving him an encouraging hug from behind. You knew this was a remarkable feat for him. Jace and you were the same, a sentiment shared by both and your family on countless occasions. Spending every waking moment with someone, sharing the same bed, meals, toys, and friends, it was no surprise that you confided in one another and shared affections that traditional siblings did not have. You tended to mother your brother, a flaw that your natural mother had scolded you on, but that did not stop you as you kissed Jace on his warm, smooth cheek, whispering what he could do better with his dragon the next time.

You only wanted the best for your brother, and you desperately wanted to share your triumphs with the person you spent all your days with, even if it was selfish.

Chattering behind you caught your attention, seeing Aegon approach his younger brother as he flippantly stroked a piece of unruly frizz from his face.

“Aemond, we have a surprise for you,” he confided, placing an encouraging hand at his brother’s mid-back.

The youngest prince of King Viserys looked skeptically at his kin, gaze downcast. “What is it?” he asked warily, shoulders hunched. Luke gave a cheeky grin and kicked the dirt with his toes.

“Something very special,” your brother answered as you watched him scamper off into the darkness of the Pit.

You and Jace gazed at your uncles, confused, a twinge of hurt poking at your chest at having been left out of the “surprise” as you grabbed his hand for support. Subconsciously, you rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, feeling uneasy in your heart as Jace looked eagerly to where his brother went.

“You’re the only one of us without a dragon,” Aegon began, escorting Aemond to his intended destination, waiting for his response.

“Indeed,” the young prince answered curtly. Aemond still lowered his head, silver hair tied back as he followed his older sibling blindly.

You could tell Aegon was holding a barely restrained smile, gesturing with his pale hands and continuing. “And we felt badly about it, so we found one for you.”

You cocked your head as you followed at a distance. A part of you was anxious to see what Aegon planned, knowing from his history in the back of your mind that it would not be as kind as he was making it out to be. Nonetheless, you intently listened as Aemond protested with suspicion.

“A dragon? How?”

Your uncle smirked, stopping just before the ramp of the Dragonpit sloped down to where the Keepers held the animals. You heard the squeals of a creature you could not recognize due to the echoes bouncing off the stone walls. It sent an ominous, almost eerie feeling through your bones.

“The Gods provide,” Aegon answered alisively.

Moments later, your younger brother led a plump, pink pig with wooden wings strapped to its hairy pot belly up to the four of you.

“Behold! The Pink Dread,” Luke and Aegon announced simultaneously, cheering as if this was the most fantastic find in the history of Westeros.

“Be sure to mount her carefully. The first flight is always rough.”

This was hideous. This was horrendous. This was a terrible, awful, no-good deed that would surely wind up with all of you receiving a reprimand from your parents. But why... why was it so funny?

You released a noise akin to a gag, a failed attempt to stifle a laugh as your brothers and elder uncle snorted in unison. Unable to control your giggles, you covered your mouth, releasing Jace’s hand as you ran over to Aemond, nudging his side.

“Don’t be so rude, Uncle! She is a very fine creature, worthy of having such a noble rider,” you teased, but he gave no reaction, only staring at the winged pig with a sullen, dejected expression on his freckled countenance.

It only made you feel slightly wrong… slightly.

When Aegon decided the fun had outstayed its welcome, he walked away, laughter fading as the three of you followed his coattails like ducklings to their mother out of the Dragonpit, leaving a dejected Aemond to stare at his new gift.

You spared a glance back to your uncle as the yellow sun peeked into the expanse of the Pit. Guilt crawled up your back like dark clouds before a storm, hesitating your exit as he became aware of your gaze. Aemond still stood where the four of you left him, radiating an aura of hurt, apathy, and anger. Flames lit your cheeks in shame as you stepped back towards your younger uncle, only to be swiftly stopped by the other, Aegon’s larger hand placing itself on your crown as he forced you to follow his march out of the Dragonpit.

There was no reason for this guilt. Aemond would undoubtedly hurt you or your feelings regardless of the jokes your siblings and Aegon played on him. It was only a matter of time until the word bastard spewed from his chapped lips.

The sun felt warm on your skin as you were helped into the carriage, awaiting the return of the five of you home, though you missed one. Judging by the bright orb's position, it would soon be time for your daily lessons with Septa Marlow. The woman was so old that she often fell asleep during your embroidery lessons, an easy chance for you to escape the crone’s torture that she called learning.

The ride to the Red Keep was quick, and the amount of time it took your Septa to fall asleep was even faster, much to your delight. You found yourself wandering the halls, staring at the paintings depicting great battles with dragons and portraits of your ancestors, unsure what would peak your fancy and seeking anything to entertain you. Your brothers were in their lessons that were undoubtedly more enticing than yours, and your father would most likely be with your mother, seeing as there was a new addition to the family.

“What are you doing wandering about the halls, Princess?” the velvet voice of Queen Alicent rang out.

Finally, your musings were answered.

You demurely smiled at the Queen, giving her a short curtsy in your Velaryon blue gown, tiny silver seahorses embroidered into the bodice. “Septa Marlow fell asleep again, and she looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake her,” you answered with a childish coyness that never failed to endear Alicent. You were her shining light, after all.

The Queen chuckled, a noise you heard few and far between as she offered you a delicate palm, accepting it without hesitation. Your mother never approved of you spending time unchaperoned with her for reasons you could never comprehend. She was family, your grandmother, to be precise, and she was the one who gave you a name. It should be more than natural to accompany her on outings and luncheons.

“You should not be alone, Princess. ’Tis unsafe for a girl of your age to be unaccompanied in the Keep. I am going to Helaena’s room to pay her a visit. Come,” Alicent stated without so much as a sliver of space for protests.

“Why is it unsafe, your majesty?” you questioned with a raised brow, curious who or what would try to hurt you. “It’s my home and I’m a princess. No one would try to hurt me.”

The Queen stopped her movements, glancing down at your much shorter form as a sigh escaped her mouth. “You are still a child, my light, and many people would love to snatch it away and keep it for themselves. Those even close to you could wish you harm.”

Your head whipped up towards Alicent faster than humanly possible, a horrified look on your visage. People close to you? What could she mean? Could it be your maids? The servants who changed your sheets, washed your clothes, or made your food? Could your mother wish to hurt you? Your brother? Your hair prickled at the thought, causing your skin to itch and become uncomfortable. You could not say anything in response.

You followed the Queen to your Aunt’s quarters without strife, a sinking feeling in your gut as her ringed hand enveloped yours in a blanket of maternal security. Alicent would never hurt you… would she?

The same scent of frankincense wafted into your nose as the Queen led you. It sent pleasant shivers down your spine, making you forget the discontent as you passed lords and ladies of the court, a warm sense of joy tickling your stomach. You looked at Queen Alicent, the natural light filtering through the windows, to see specks of dust dancing in the air behind her auburn hair.

Admiration washed over you as you studied her, a crown of weaved golden threads resting atop her curled updo. She wore earrings of silver metal intricately smelted together, an emerald gem placed in the center with droplets of pearl glinting in the sun. Her gown was green, a usual statement color of her House, and she had a modest cloak covering her shoulders and cut sleeves. She was so beautiful, more beautiful than anyone you had ever seen besides your mother, and it filled you with a sense of deep admiration that nearly overwhelmed you.

Cackles echoed in the distance of the red rock walls of the Keep, a group of ladies adorned in extravagant garbs striding in the opposite direction of the pair of you. Their piercing laughter abruptly ended as they spotted you hand in hand with the Queen, appearing as if they saw a ghost. They stood there, still, unmoving, their eyes following you, despite the impropriety of gawking at the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms and a daughter of the heir, whispering words of gossip.

Your adoration of Alicent was forgotten about as a sinking feeling of inadequacy hollowed your chest, somehow knowing they were speaking of you. The Queen felt hesitation in your steps as you passed by the women, uncertainty causing you to squeeze her golden-ringed fingers tighter.

“Pay no mind to them, my light,” Alicent encouraged, rubbing a comforting thumb over your knuckles as you did with Jace. You tried to listen to her words and disregard the judgmental stares of the ladies, but you could not and heard one whispering.

“Seven! She looks more like the Queen than her mother!”

The laughter soon carried on as a lump formed in your throat. Your arms felt prickly again, as if the hair got stuck between the threads of your clothes, pulling and tugging uncomfortably as you attempted to scratch the sensation. Queen Alicent glanced down at the sudden clawing at your limbs. Her plush lips pouted in a curious expression, recognition flashing in her amber eyes as she smoothed the stray hairs of your braid, kissing the top of your head in comfort.

Soon, you entered Helaena’s chambers, her Septa dressed in humble charcoal gray clothing, sitting next to your Aunt as she hunched over an ancient tome. The modestly dressed woman stood and bowed at the arrival of the Queen, exiting without words as you sat on a Myrish rug. A glass case filled with different types of insects rested on the delicate fabric, taking note of a giant dead obsidian scorpion in it. You could not hide the shudder the creature brought as your Aunt found her place next to you, bringing out another small casing.

“What is in that one, Helaena?” you asked, peering curiously over her shoulder. She recoiled at your sudden presence, slightly shifting away from you as a pang of hurt hit your core at the action. She disregarded your question and focused on her hidden creature, but you paid no attention to it, happy to be by her side.

Alicent sat on the opposite side of her daughter, crossing one leg and bending the other to get into a comfortable position. Though the rug was lavish, it did not provide much cushioning for larger bodies. As your Aunt opened the wooden box, a creature you had never seen crawled along the side, with what seemed to be a thousand tiny legs hidden underneath a shiny black body. You tried to hide your shock as Helaena picked it up, allowing it to crawl along her pale, dainty fingers. Another shudder of disgust came over you as you watched the bug’s legs move too quickly to be something of this world, nausea bubbling in your stomach.

“This one has sixty rings. Two pairs of legs on each. That’s two-hundred and forty,” Helaena stated, her violet gaze trained on the creature. She seemed as if in another world as she spoke, talking to those around her but not registering your presence.

You intently observed as she allowed the bug to crawl up her satin dress sleeve before placing it back into her palm to study it more. You never understood Helaena’s fascination with the things, but you didn’t deter her from it, even when she brought out creatures such as this. It was never something you were interested in yourself, as you would much prefer to spend time plucking flowers like other girls your age. However, you respected them nonetheless.

“Yes, it is,” the Queen agreed, her facial expressions showing exasperation despite her encouraging words. You moved closer to Helaena with a morbid fascination to see the thing, though you still felt repulsed.

Your Aunt was silent for a beat, entranced with the new addition to her collection, seeming as if she forgot your and Alicent’s existence. Her voice was the only thing that indicated recognition. “Would you like to hold it?” she asked airily.

Unsure if she was speaking to you, you did not respond. Only when Helaena turned her pale face to you did you respond with a swift shake of your head. Your Aunt took no offense to the refusal, continuing to examine it. “It has eyes, though I did not believe it can see.”

Alicent released a noiseless sigh. She seemed tired of her child’s interests since they were not ordinary, making you feel bad for Helaena. Though people believed she did not perceive the world for what it was, she wasn’t blind. Your Aunt felt and understood emotions like the rest of you, but she did not act like everyone else. It did not mean she was not human.

“And why is that so, do you think?” the Queen asked, her velvet voice bland with feigned interest.

“It is beyond our understanding,” Helaena plainly answered, allowing the quiet to resonate as your eyes flicked between them.

“I suppose you’re right,” Alicent replied, placing what was intended to be a comforting hand onto Helaena’s elbow. Your Aunt flinched, trying to free herself from her mother’s touch but knowing she could not force a guardian to listen to their child. “Some things are just beyond our understanding,” she finished, begrudgingly letting go.

You observed the exchange with critical eyes. Your brow scrunched in the offense for Helaena and confusion. The Queen knew her daughter did not like touch unless she was the one to initiate it, but she still insisted on invading her space with the ignorant hope that Helaena would one day accept her affections. You supposed that was why the Queen liked spending time with you, as you were a more typical child, embracing any affection.

Suddenly, the door to Helaena’s chambers opened with a clanking of metal and squeal of hinges as a Kingsguard gripping harshly onto Aemond’s arm entered. The three of you turned to face the noise, confusion mixed with surprise matching each of your faces.

“Your grace,” the Kingsguard announced as Aemond struggled in his grasp. Questions etched your brows as she stood and went to her son. You understood he had done something wrong by the shame covering his face like the ash dusting it.

“Aemond!” she exclaimed. “What have you done?” She took her son by his shoulders, palpating his soot-covered visage to ensure there were no wounds.

“He did it again,” Helaena answered for the guard as you glanced at her for an explanation.

Aemond being covered in ash and escorted by a guard seemed a common occurrence for the three of them, and it needed no explanation. Aemond smelled of smoke and incense, a scent you recognized from that of the Dragonpit. Had he still been in there this whole time?

“After how many times you’ve been warned? Must I have you confined to your chambers?” Alicent interrogated, exasperation evident in her tone. She stared at him with words ready to scold before her son interrupted with a protest.

“They made me do it!”

They? Was he referring to you, Aegon, and your brothers? You didn’t coerce Aemond into the depths of the Dragonpit, where he likely encountered a dragon that wasn’t his own. How could he hold you responsible for his own choices?

“As if you needed encouragement! Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding,” she admonished with a shake of her head.

Aemond’s eyes widened with tears as he tried to comprehend his mother’s lack of understanding. He felt a profound sense of hopelessness and powerlessness in the situation, believing that he had no alternative but to respond in the manner he did, his blonde hair in disarray. It was evident that you hadn’t realized the extent of the pain you caused him. What you perceived as a simple jest had deeply wounded him.

“They gave me a pig!” He shrieked, tears finally falling from his violet eyes as you looked anywhere but at the mother and son before you. “They gave me a pig,” he admitted softer this time, sniffling with chagrin.

Guilt overcame you at the hurt your uncle displayed, emotions gathering in your throat as your digits went under your sleeves, tugging at the hair that had been bothering you all day. You didn’t realize the joke had wounded Aemond as profoundly as it had, shame rising and covering your heart.

“They said they had a dragon for me,” your uncle confessed, gaze downcast as Helaena began to lose interest in the conversation before her.

“The last ring has no legs at all,” she said as if you should also share her nonchalant sentiment and fall into her world. You ignored her; all your attention focused on the impending storm unleashed upon you once Aemond told Alicent what the four of you did.

“But it was a pig,” your uncle declared, a scornful gaze directed at you as Alicent turned to face your shrunken form.

“Is this true?” she interrogated, ire directed at you instead of her son as you hesitated. “Is it true?”

The Queen had never crossed with you before, and it caused an unwelcome sensation in your stomach. “I didn’t know they were going to do it!” you exclaimed, shame heating your cheeks. “I wouldn’t have let them if I knew!”

“Liar! You laughed!” Aemond protested, hurt evident in his voice as he pointed an accusing digit. “You and Aegon love to torment me!”

��Only because you do it first! You call me a bastard and pull my hair! I’m not a bastard!” you argued, tears wetting your cheeks at the intensity of your sudden anger.

The Queen’s disappointment abruptly left at your words, swiftly turning to Aemond as her face blanched. “Aemond, she is your kin. You mustn’t call her such things,” she implored, eyes wide with a meaning behind them you couldn’t place.

“But mother, you–”

“No, Aemond,” she interrupted urgently, stopping your uncle from saying something that would cause another uproar from you and find its way to Rhaenyra. “You must apologize. Both of you. You are family and need to be kind to one another even when they have upset you.” Alicent turned and extended a palm out, encouraging you to make the first step of amends for your participation in the cruel joke you played on Aemond.

You knew he would not accept your apology, though it was sincere. There was no intended malice with your laughter toward Aemond in the Pit. It was what was expected of you to do. You would have become his brother’s next victim if you hadn’t gone along with Aegon when Luke brought out the pig.

“I’m sorry, Aemond. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” you confessed, plucking at the hairs on your forearms to ease the discontent in your heart. He refused to reply with an apology of his own, glaring down at you with such a fierceness you feared that you would wilt. “You will have a dragon one day, uncle. There are many still unclaimed at Dragonstone, and wild ones too! Perhaps you could come with us when we visit in the summer?”

“You laughed,” Aemond glowered, voice cracking. The pain he disguised as anger slipped through his scornful mask, causing your mouth to be thick.

You could tell he wanted to hit you as he usually would in these situations; his hands balled into fists at his sides, but suddenly, they became limp, and a wave of affection and comfort for your uncle pulled you towards him. You wrapped your arms around Aemond, hugging him so tightly you were unsure if he could breathe, burying your face in his neck. After a long day outside, he smelled of sweat and dragon smoke, a hint of expensive amber-scented soap on his skin. Aemond did not return the action, but you sensed he no longer wanted to hurt you as much.

“I love you, uncle, and I know we’ll fly together on dragonback someday,” you encouraged, holding him impossibly tighter. Partly to distract yourself from your guilt and partly because you knew that despite his cold, sullen demeanor, he too enjoyed the rare warmth of embrace even though it was by the one he despised.

Human touch was still touch.

Alicent smiled, a joy welling inside her chest that she had not felt in decades. This was the start of something new, a seed planted in the first rays of spring with the hopes of a bountiful harvest in autumn, but Aemond refused to give it thought, focused only on the ridicule you, Aegon, and your brothers caused him.

You were not like Rhaenyra in more ways than the Queen initially thought. You were Alicent’s child, not in this life, but another where she was not a queen and was not a game piece her father moved about how he pleased. She could bring a proposal to match the one she rejected from Princess Rhaenyra with one of her sons. At least in that way, she could ensure your bright mind would not become tainted by Rhaenyra’s blackened rot.

The Queen gently stroked your and Aemond’s hair, a tender smile on her plump lips, and pressed a kiss atop both your crowns—so different yet so intertwined in ways children could not comprehend.

Alicent’s shining light, her dream. A dream that never was indeed hers.

“He will have to close an eye.”

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

The reader’s dragon is based on a snake that caught my eye while watching a Nat Geo documentary. It’s called Pope’s Green Pit Viper and is native to Southeast Asia. I initially didn’t think it was a real snake because it looked so cool! They are also the only snakes to give birth to live young, like mammals, and have heat vision.

Also, for those who don't know, Gaelithox is part of the Fourteen Flames, the Gods of Old Valyria. He's the god of fire, stars, moon, sun, and dawn, the rival of Meraxes. Pretty on the nose there, huh?

Thank you so much for reading! I’m so excited to have y’all see what I’ve been cooking up, and I look forward to hearing y’all’s thoughts!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager

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fraugwinska · 7 months ago

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A very incomplete list of Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction Authors/Geniuses

I cannot believe the awsome, talented, absolute magnificent people I've met through this fandom. Writing FF for Hazbin Hotel has become one of my greatest joys in life, and reading the stories and creations of my fellow friends and idols is something that can brighten my whole week - and we don't gatekeep. So, if you're in search for a good read, here are a few of the SUPER AWSOME people I stalk (and I want to stress - this list is never going to be complete, but I'll try to edit it as there are just SO MANY GODDANG MASTERS out there!) @bapple117 If you love #RadioStatic, you have to read 'Bluest Monday' (completed) and the follow-up 'Say Hello, Wave Goodbye' (WIP) She'll break your heart in the most beautiful way. If you don't fancy that but Alastor is your go-to, then you will want to dive in head-first into "If You Can't Say Somethin' Nice, Don't Say Nothin' At All" (complete). But as before, be ready for a rollercoaster of emotional moments and extremely spicy shenanigans.

@hazelfoureyes Goddess of the smut, Hottest writer in Hell - If you're horny, Hazel has got you covered. Especially her 'The safeword is Radioapple'-Mini-series will make you sweat like a Zumba-Instructor on crack. Be prepared to blush, tremble, die and immediately ressurrect, because yes. She is THAT good.

Clover/corruptedteacups on AO3 With whooping 75 chapters and 300k+ hits, her Fanfic 'The Red means I Love you' is one of the best, most detailed slow-burn-pining-angsty-smutty-will-they-wont-they Masterpieces I've read so far. Alastor is magnificent and I guarantee you'll fall in love with Clover, the bunny who captures the heart of you deerest red demon.

@melodyonthewireless Highly underappreciated (imho), her fic "A Match made in Hell" (WIP) follows her OC Sybil down to hell, into the Hazbin Hotel and consecutively the arms of Alastor - but don't you dare underestimate the pink, harmless looking doe. Sybil's witch powers and her sassy, witty personality is quite the match to the established readio overlord. It's such a read, and the wait between chapters the sweetest agony!

@macabr3-barbi3 She delivers every. single. TIME. Her Short stories and One-Shots are like Pringles - Once you pop, you can't stop. I'm deeply in love with 'Dream a little Dream' (WIP), 'Nothing I can't Handle' (WIP) makes me run for a cold shower and did I mention the countless one-shot-candies that make you mouth water and your toes curl?

@slutforalastor/InconspicuousBosch on AO3 Whether it's the One-Shots on tumblr (omg the PRIEST ALASTOR BIT *fans face*) or the incredible Choose-your-Path-Fic "Say it with a smile" (completed) - you will be both amazed at the artistry of the wording and storybuilding and blushing at the sheer craft of the smut and sexual tension.

@impale-me-radio-daddy Founder of the kink #antlerplay, his series of 'The Lookalike' is steamy, outrageous, utterly magnificent and filthy down to the bones. Be prepared for some serious questioning of your own preferences, because you WILL get some epiphanies. And that's a PROMISE.

@hurthermore Listen. LISTEN. Bimbo is the mini-series that had me on a friggin CHOKEHOLD. It takes a special talent to make one so invested in THE radio demon, gentleman a la carte Alastor believably pining after and pounding a lovable, dumb airhead sinner with a fable for skimpy dresses and leave you at the end wanting for seconds and thirds!

As I said, this is a highly incomplete list, and I'll absolutely edit this list as I go. But I needed to put this out in the world. To all of the above, and all of those which I didn't include YET but most certainly will -

I ADORE YOU, I PRAY AT YOUR FEET, YOU ARE AMAZING BEINGS AND I LOVE YOU.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel smut #radiostatic #radioapple #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel #fraugwinskaandfriends #ily fellow beings #author appreciation

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missnightshade · 3 days ago

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❝ IN BETWEEN ❞

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Requested: Yes.

Summary: Wanda Maximoff's younger sister seems to have no place in the hex besides Agatha’s side.

Warnings: Fluffy; a bit of angst. My poor writing. I love Wanda but needed to portrait her like this for the plot. English not being my first language.

Word count: 1.2K.

Y/N Maximoff was a delight. A lively, powerful, rebellious, and carefree creature that echoed as someone so different from her older siblings. At least, that was the image Agatha Harkness had of her since the first time stepping into Wanda's made-up reality. A sweet little thing, ready to be made hers.

The younger witch didn't have a coherent part into that small city her sister held captive. Pietro has been dead for years, and even with Agatha’s poor casting of someone in his place, the Scarlett Witch held more care in her eyes for him than to Y/N. Her real and alive little sister. Agatha felt the need to protect you. To gather you into her own arms and never let go.

"Hey, Agnes. What's up?" The sweet voice of the youngest Maximoff elated her as Agatha stood by Wanda and Vision's door with a bottle of wine and what looked like a food container.

"Heard the Maximoffs were out and about. I decided to pay my favorite girl a visit." She stepped in, not caring to be invited. "Who in their right mind would leave such a pretty pet alone?"

Y/N's laugh scaped as her hand pushed the door closed. Agnes was the only happiness the move to Westview brought her. Yet, she couldn’t bring herrself to remember why she had decided to live with Wanda.

"I think you're the only one who thinks that way, Aggy."

The Maximoff's body flopped down on the couch as Agatha roamed around the kitchen she's been in many times before. Now, with the late nineties aesthetic, it felt easier to find what she needed to open the bottle.

"Why do you think so, dear?", Agnes asked, waltzing back into the living room with two glasses of red wine.

She reached for one, eyes now dedicated to gaze at the company for the night. "Oh, you know." Y/N moved her hand gently around her, and Agatha could swear whips of magic erupted from them in frustration. "Wanda is out with Vision, the boys and Pietro. The Maximoff's outing. Yet, here I am. Barely part of the family."

As Y/N grumbled, sipping the wine, Agatha smiled against the rim of her own glass, mind rapidly working.

"Oh, sweet girl. They love you. You know that. Wanda would never choose to leave you behind."

Her words seemed to wake something inside Y/N’s mind. As her eyes locked into Agnes', the young witch frowned, memories of Sokovia and the Maximoff twins leaving their younger sister in the hands of Hydra agents after fleeing. The puzzle pieces of memories also had the smell of burned cookies in the Avengers compound and Wanda grieving in the arms of a robot while Y/N suffered alone.

But just as they came, a stronger power pushed them out.

"Y/N?" She looked at Agnes."Where did you go?"

"Uhm..." She tried piercing things together, but her mind felt blank. "What were we talking about?"

"Wanda?"

"Oh, right." she sipped on the wine again. "You're right. She wouldn't choose that."

The happiness in your voice made Agatha’s stomach hurt. She thought for a moment that something inside you had remembered.

"Yes, sweetie. She wouldn't."

Agatha's inside twisted and turned. That precious girl, with the most mesmerizing eyes and bright personality was just another refugee of the excuse of a Scarlett Witch that was being written.

She scoffed at the thought, bitterness seeping from her mouth. The sound made Y/N look at her, the thick alcohol sliding down her throat. Her gaze was questioning, but Harkness' eyes were fixed on the movements she did to swallow. For a moment, as Agatha tried to look up at her eyes, a ghost of necessity lingered above her shoulders.

Y/N smiled then, and for the first time since meeting the younger Maximoff, she felt obsessed.

( . . . )

That feeling didn't vanish... or even subsided. In fact, it only grew stronger.

Agatha would stop by the Maximoff's home every day to bring the girl a sense of comfort and, almost always, she would be alone, playing the part of the perfect, quiet sister that hardly ever made Wanda lose her mind. Forgotten. Misplaced. A secondary part that no one actually cared about.

But Agatha did. And Agnes was always there.

There were many reasons as to why she wanted to play along Wanda's game. To pursue her. To enlighten her. To...steal her. But when looking at Y/N, all of that seemed so small in comparison. And even inside that wrecked reality of Wanda's, somehow, Y/N had enough of free will to choose to fall in love with Agnes.

"Argh, i wanna cry." Y/N cried out in another wine date. In Agnes' home, the effect of Wanda was not so overwhelming. The woman could, actually, feel something real.

"Cry? Why?" Agatha questioned, trying to reach for her. The space between them grew smaller by the time they saw each other. Now, on the same couch, Agnes' hands were stopped by Y/N, who quietly guided them to both sides of her face. The vulnerability on her irises pained Agatha as her thumbs caressed Y/N's cheeks. "Darling, what's it? Tell me."

Y/N closed her eyes, pouting as if she was really fighting the urge to cry. Maybe devouring two bottles of wine by her side wasn't a good idea.

"It's just..." She mumbled, only opening her eyes when Agatha held her a bit closer, almost touching their noses. Y/N felt as if she couldn't breathe. Her entire world crumbled when looking at Agnes like that. "You're so pretty, Aggy. And you're always here for me. And...and when you are this close, I feel like the only thing I want in this world..." She breathed out in a full smeared sentence. "Is to have you all to myself."

Agatha's digitals tingled with the need to sink her fingers and merge her skin with Y/N's. In all the centuries of her life, not once the sensation of such primal need crumbled the ever so calculatedly built walls of her existence. She eyed her with confusion, but then, with love. Y/N didn't need a second time to wonder what that meant when her lips crashed down onto hers. The sweet kiss was firstly a mere touch, but when the Maximoff's insides twisted and her fingers slid against the ones on her face, Agatha pulled her closer. There was an almost bestial growl that scaped the older woman, but her fingers gently stroke the other, bringing her in.

When they parted, their foreheads touched. Agatha had a smile that could light up the whole city of Westview. Y/N saw it up close, laughing slightly as she pressed the tip of her nose against Agnes'.

"Are you laughing at me, Dove?"

The nickname made Y/N raise an eyebrow, but that didn't stop her hand from cupping the nape of Agatha’s head, nails slightly running against it.

"I'm laughing with you." She answered, pecking Agatha's lips again. "I thought it would take you longer to kiss me."

"Were you betting how long i would take?"

"I was actually betting on how long I would take lose my patience. "

"If you knew I also liked you, why didn't you take the lead, Dove?" Agatha's hand took a strand of Y/N hair into her hands, twisting it. "Are you that stubborn.

"Don't you know me?"

Agatha laughed as she gazed at Y/N. There was a lot she didn't actually know about her, but she was okay to find out. Preferably outside her sister's influence, a problem the witch would have to figure out how to deal now. One thing she was sure: no matter what, she wouldn't let Wanda take you apart.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness

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agatharkn3ss · 1 month ago

Text

Agatha's info/rumours

I thought I'd pull together all the info we've been shown in ep.6 and add my interpretation to it. I still can't believe that Billy read these short bits and claimed he knew an "egregious" amount about Agatha.

As usual, biased towards Agathario, because I think they are heavily implying Agatha's connection to Death (I mean yes, the writers could just be trying to explain why the internet would be so invested in her identity, but still)

First of all - "333 partial results for Agatha Harkness Ancient Witch". I love yet another allusion to how Agatha is linked with number 3, making her the actual harbinger of doom (I explain this here).

It's interesting that the related questions are all about the immortality of the witches:

Are witches immortal?

Do real witches ever die?

How do you kill a witch?

How old is the oldest witch?

If we didn't have other super-old witches in the show, it would make me wonder if Agatha didn't make some sort of pact with Death (Rio), where she provides "bodies" to her in exchange for her long life. But as it is, we have Lilia as 450+ years old and Jen is also older than a century, but you don't see them trying to kill people (I think).

The very first search result is quite fun:

"The Macabre Wiki – a comprehensive encyclopaedia of all things that only come out after dark. Created by two blood witched from Salem"

No matter what, I will forever believe this is Agatha and Rio's page. (for reasons explained here)

The rest of the search results are not as exciting:

Witchy Resource – Ancient witches and ancient warlocks are not well documented traditionally and usually for good reason…

Witches and Aging – Apparently, witches are able to chose how they age and present themselves to humans. Some withes choose to stop again at a certain point staying roughly 30 years old visually for literally hundreds of years.

Dreadit – Salem Witch Trials – Recently I’ve been researching a ton on the SWT and not many people know this but there are reports of witches that actually survived burning and drowning

The Art of the Ancients – Learn about the secret art of witchcraft and the witches that have [...]

So this suggests Agatha specifically chose her look and age. Neat. Quite empowering really.

Also, another suggestion that some witches can be immortal and survive burning and drowning. I wonder if we will see this in the show - Agatha and Rio having absolute blast at mocking people who were trying to torture/kill Agatha, only to realise she wasn't feeling any pain, she would just raise and shout "Surprise witches!".

Then we go onto the Salem Witch Trials page. This pretty much confirms what we already know about them. I immediately clocked how all the handles only have green or purple colours... Coincidence? I've not tried to decipher the names, but if anyone has any suggestions, let me know!

witchygirlblack: Did any witches survive the Salem witch trials? Are they still alive? Where are they? Witches can live for hundreds of years, so the ones that survived the trials might still be out there [] witchkraft dreadit, you must know of some?

4thlevelwarlock: The Salemites, Evanora Harkness’s coven, were prominent in the area. I’ve heard rumours [...]the young children from the coven escaped

SamSamwitch: @4thlevelwarlock look familiar? [Agatha image link]

BoftheEast: be careful posting about her just saying

Then Billy takes the photo through reverse image search. I know these are tiny, inconsequential details but I still love them:

"Looky" sounds like a little nod to Lilia's "kooky"

The letters “o” have moons inside of them.

Each letter has different colour that seems to align with the witches – light blue (Jan - water trial?), purple (Agatha - spirit), yellow (Lilia - air), dark blue (Billy?), orange (Alice – fire)

This search then leads to a number of events that Agatha has been spotted at. Rather than pull out the quotes, I'm going to put the events in a chronological order and add relevant background info:

Salem Witch Trials (1692-1693) - this was a series of hearings and prosecutions of people accused of witchcraft in colonial Massachusetts. More than 200 people were accused. It was the deadliest witch hunt in the history of colonial North America. This is the time where Agatha's mother and her coven try to "punish" her for using "the darkest of magic". Her fingers weren't black, so she's unlikely to have had Darkhold back then. (btw the script for this suggests Agatha was 18 at the time, so she was born ~1675, making her ~351 years old in 2026)

The Eastern Seaboard - Although we don't know the exact dates, there are "unconfirmed reports of Agatha traveling the Eastern Seaboard". This could relate to various areas but this is likely just referring to the US East Coast. The Thirteen Colonies, which formed the United States in 1776 were located on this coast, playing an important role in the development of the United States.

The sinking of the Titanic (1912) - the British ocean liner sank as a result of striking an iceberg on her maiden voyage from Southampton, England, to New York City, US. Of the estimated 2,224 passengers and crew aboard, approximately 1,500 died. Agatha is listed as one of the survivors

The Hindenburg disaster (1937) - a German commercial passenger airship caught fire and was destroyed during its attempt to dock at Lakehurst, New Jersey, on its journey from Frankfurt, Germany. The accident caused 35 fatalities among the 97 people on board, and an additional fatality on the ground. The publicity shattered public confidence in the giant, passenger-carrying rigid airship and marked the abrupt end of the airship era. Again, Agatha is spotted as a woman who "survived the explosion then disappeared"

"Jolene" (1972-1973) - The headline states "Does this 1972 Surveillance photo of Dolly Parton show the real Jolene?" and Jac Schaeffer confirmed that yes, Agatha = Jolene. So I had some fun with this, because why not?! I wondered what Agatha's play would've been here. Is she truly after Dolly's "man" - if so, in what way? Or is she after Dolly herself? Note that although the article says 1972, later on we also see statement that Agatha was last seen in Nashville Tennessee, 1973. Now - that year in Nashville, Dolly not only recorded "Jolene" in May, but a month later she also recorded "I will always love you" - a song that is widely understood to be a goodbye song to her business partner because she decided to pursue solo career. In my head this is all a result of Agatha's influence, who showed Dolly her real power.

On that note, I don't think we would be far off assuming that as Agatha kept Dolly (or her man) her company, she would've actually come across Lorna Wu herself? We know it was similar time, because "The Ballad of the Witches Road" record was made in 1978. Alice mentions how she got her tattoo in Colorado as her mum was playing at the Red Rocks amphitheatre. Dolly Parton also performed at the Red Rocks in 1972 (the same year as the camera footage), so Agatha could've been there...

Finally, we get to the "brujapedia" - the encyclopaedia of witches. It's fun to speculate who could be running this page - the whole theme is black and white, with red highlights. There is also an image of a raven - as I discussed it before, it is a symbol of bridging the world of life and death. So it would be fun if it was Death herself maintaining it, as she would be the only one who would truly know who the real witches were. Also it would be a cool census of who is still remaining for her to "collect" their dues.

Another good spot from @chaotic-homoromantic is that "bruja" is a Spanish word for "witch", giving us another hint to Rio.

I couldn't really find any info on any other names other than the top one. Abigail Adams was a founder of the US, wife of John Adams, the second US president and mother of John Quincy Adams, the 6th US president. I'd like to think witches had some input back then.

Also interesting is how Agatha's surname is misspelled - it has two Ks. I wonder why that is - no way it's a mistake, seeing how much detail they've put into this. Maybe it's a subtle suggestion that this information came straight from Agatha herself or as a joke from someone who knows her, since she's known for using wrong words. (or it could just be a suggestion that all of the other names on this list are also misspelled, explaining why we can't find any info on them)

Then we get to some info about her - most of which I already collated into the timeline above. There is also a vague mention of Nicky: "Agatha Harkness. Son. Name unkown, rumours [...]"

But there are also some other bits - hilariously referred to as "FUN" facts:

Fun Facts:

Murdered her entire coven

Possesses succubus powers

Nick name is “witch killer!”

Only known survivor of The Witches Road

Folklore references: It is said certain children’s book make reference to Agatha [...]

Funny how the nickname absolutely includes the exclamation mark. I feel like maybe Jen was the one who submitted this info.

As for the children's book - I feel like it wouldn't be just a single story but more like the Grimm's Fairy Tales. Following Lilia's comment, Agatha probably was the template they used for "evil witches" - poisoning apples and stealing kids and eating children. It's not something she would deny anyway.

Now, the Succubus comment is interesting. In lore they are generally depicted as a sexual being - "a female demon or supernatural entity in folklores who appears in dreams to seduce men, usually through sexual activity."

But I think in Agatha's case, things are different. Yes, she has the charisma and can probably seduce people quite easily (I mean, she probably seduced Death, didn't she?). But I don't think that's like a magical power. In fact, if it was, it think it would be really unfair to Agatha, erasing the fact that her character had to build and evolve around her experiences and the fact that she had to survive - "in a way that few do". So I think this "fun fact" could be partially coming from someone's snarky comment (Dolly Parton's?), who just wanted to take away Agatha's agency. Or fell for Agatha and then blamed it on her "powers" rather than admitting their own gullibility. Just like women over the centuries were accused of witchcraft and casting curses if things simply didn't go the way someone wanted.

Plus the way she goes about getting her magic from people is absolutely not seductive. She simply finds a way to annoy the heck out of the target!

But of course, that's not all there is to it, because on the other hand Agatha has her syphoning ability - now that could also be described as the "succubus powers" referred to above. In DnD succubus attacks using a "Deadly kiss", basically draining the essence of life and I feel like this is quite a good description:

"The kiss of a succubus is an echo of the emptiness that is the fiend’s longing for a corrupted soul. Likewise, the recipient of the fiend’s kiss gains no satisfaction from it, experiencing only pain and the profound emptiness that the fiend imparts. The kiss is nothing short of an attack, usually delivered as a final farewell before the fiend escapes."

In that magic/soul sucking way, she would have more parallels to Death, explaining their connection. More so, if Agatha can't control her powers - because Death does not really have much control either, she just has to do her job when the time comes.

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

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vitalverstappen · 28 days ago

Text

House Rules - C. Sainz

summary: everyone knew you loved halloween, but no one knew just how much.

pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, use of y/n

word count: 1.4k

a/n: literally got this idea while driving home from work today and scrambled to write it to get something out for you guys for halloween!

masterlist

It was well known that Carlos was a partier. Even if he was nowhere near the podium, you knew he was going to find his way to a local club. His energy was infectious, and his love for staying out till dawn was a constant in his life.

You, on the other hand, adored Halloween. The scary movies, the candy, the pumpkin carving - everything about it filled you with joy. It was your favorite time of year, beating out the other holidays by a long shot. There was something magical about the crisp autumn air, the thrill of ghost stories, and the excitement of choosing a costume.

So, it was a no-brainer to combine the two this year and host a Halloween party for the grid. As the day approached, you decorated your house with cobwebs, jack-o-lanterns, and the occasional fake body part. A photo booth was set up in one of the guest rooms, filled with props and eerie backdrops.

Meanwhile, Carlos put himself in charge of making all of the treats, knowing you’d burn the place down if you tried. His famous witches brew was the center of it all though - a giant smoking cauldron, filled with most likely dangerous levels of alcohol and mixers.

The costume you two landed on was Rapunzel and Flynn Rider. It was safe enough for when the little kids came by trick-or-treating, but easy to spice up for later in the night.

As the night kicked off, the house buzzed with excitement. Friends arrived in droves, dressed in a mix of costumes - from witches, to pop culture icons, to inside jokes you would never understand.

You and Carlos found yourselves at the beer pong table. Lando and his girlfriend had been running the table all night, and it was your turn to challenge them.

“Ready to lose?” Lando taunted, flashing a cocky grin

“Yeah, sure” Carlos said, rolling his eyes with a smirk

While Lando and his girlfriend were good, Carlos quickly fell into a rhythm. With each flick of his wrist, the ball sank into a new cup, and you could see the confidence grow in him. You were terrible, missing just about every shot you took.

“Here, cariño, let me help,” Carlos said, leaning in closer to show you how to hold the ball properly.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Lando whined from across the table

“House rules” You called back before looking at your boyfriend. “Teach me your ways”

Carlos grinned as he took your hand, adjusting your grip on the sticky ping pong ball. “Just focus on the cup. And remember, it’s all in the wrist.”

With his guidance, you finally managed to land a shot, the ball bouncing into the cup with a satisfying splash.

“See? You’re a natural” Carlos teased as you felt a rush of unexpected excitement.

Lando and his girlfriend ended up clawing back for the win, leaving the table to be theirs. You were silently thankful for the loss, as you weren’t sure how many decent shots you had left in you.

You were already feeling tipsy from the game, but you still found yourself back at the cauldron. There, you found Alexandra and Charles dressed as Ginny and Harry from Harry Potter.

“Hey! So glad you could make it!” You said as you poured yourself a red solo cup full of Carlos’ concoction, the bright colors swirling both enticingly and as a warning. “How’s it going?”

“We’re glad we could make it.” Alexandra said. “We’ve been good.”

“Currently just trying to dodge the beer pong table. I’ve seen Lando running it all night. How did you do?” Charles asked, adjusting his glasses

“Let’s just say I need more practice.” You said, shaking your head though there was a small smile on your face. “Carlos helped out a lot”

“Of course he did. He’s a pro at everything” Alexandra laughed, glancing over at Carlos who was too busy trying to convince Pierre to join in playing another round of pong.

“He’s definitely got the skills.” you replied, taking a sip of the drink, wincing as the drink burned your throat “ But I think I might stick to just munching on the candy.”

“Speaking of candy, did you guys spike the gummy worms?” Charles asked, raising his eyebrow with a grin

You nodded, a fresh gleam in your eye “Yeah, you like them?”

“They’re addicting” Charles said

As the night continued, the drinks kept flowing, leading to hazy decisions. The apple bobbing station was more packed than you had expected it to be, George currently the one taking his shot. You walked over, curious to see what the excitement was about.

Standing over George was Alex, egging him on to go faster. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sheer determination on George’s face as he fought to get the fruit.

“You’re doing a shit job, mate” Alex said as George gasped for air

“It’s not my fault this thing wasn’t built for tall people in mind!” He complained, water streaming down his face

“Let me help,” Alex said as he flashed a mischievous grin. He placed his hand on the back of George’s head, shoving it back into the water.

Moments later, George reemerged, sputtering, laughing through the exasperation. “Dude, what the hell?” he yelled, wiping his face with his hand

Alex just laughed, clearly enjoying the scene that played out “You have to commit! You won’t get anywhere with that half-hearted effort”

Every time you refilled your cup, you found yourself reaching a new high. The colors of the party blurred together, creating a dreamy haze. You leaned back against one of the walls, watching the chaos of the party. An arm wrapped around your waist, and without even looking, you knew it was Carlos.

You leaned into his warmth, feeling a surge of affection. “How’d the second pong game go?” you asked

Carlos chuckled, the rise and fall of his chest comforting “I managed to convince Pierre and Kika to take over, so it’s going great now” He motioned to the table, where the couple was trying to master the game.

“Good luck to them, they need it” You chuckled as you turned to face your boyfriend.

Carlos looked down at you, his soft eyes quickly transitioning to ones full of mischief. “I think we need to shake things up a little and see who can handle the witches brew”

“That sounds so ominous” you laughed “You could’ve just suggested a drinking contest”

The two of you made your way over to the cauldron, a stack of solo cups waiting for you. The neon colors of the liquid glowed ominously in the dim light. You filled two cups up to the brim with the liquid, already dreading your agreement to do this.

A few of the other drivers and their respective others grabbed cups, quickly piecing together what was about to go down. The ones who didn’t reach for a cup, whipped out their phones to record.

“Three, two, one - go!”

You threw your head back, gulping down the sweet yet potent mixture. The crowd cheered, laughter and playful shouts filling the air. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you raced to finish your drink.

Glancing over, you caught sight of Carlos, his focus intense. You could see the competitive spark in his eyes as he downed the cup, the two of you neck-and-neck.

With one final gulp, you slammed your cup down on the ground, throwing your hands up in victory. “Another win” you exclaimed, breathless.

Carlos, a moment behind, laughed and wrapped his arms around you. “Only because I let you, mi hermosa”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that” you teased, enjoying the moment in Carlos’ arms.

The party continued, fueled by more drinks and the infectious energy in the room. You danced alongside Carlos, letting the music guide you.

As the night wore on, you took a moment to step outside on the balcony for some fresh air. The cool autumn breeze kissed your cheeks, and you took a deep breath, savoring the scent of fallen leaves.

Carlos joined you, slipping his hand into yours as you both leaned against the railing. “What do you think?” he asked, glancing at the party through the window, where you’re pretty sure you saw Toto up on someone’s shoulders.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t want to spend Halloween any other way” you answered

He smiled, his gaze softening “Neither would I”

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and 542,974 more

tagged: carlossainz55, francolapinto

yourusername: first ever sainz-l/n halloween party! thanks to everyone for coming and making the best holiday even better! p.s. williams, franco isn't dead, i just found him sleeping on my stairs

view all comments

user1: I NEEDED A HALLOWEEN WAG! THANK GOD

user2: ikr, all of them go hard for everything else, except the best holiday

francolapinto: why did you take a photo instead of WAKING ME UP AND GETTING ME TO BED??

yourusername: you looked comfy, I didn't want to wake you charles_leclerc: mate i could've shared the bathtub with you user3: hold up, charles was in the BATHTUB??? carlossainz55: someone had one too many spiked gummy worms

landonorris: i still can't believe you cheated at pong. shoulda been DQ'd

carlossainz55: it wasn't cheating, she couldn't land a ball if the cups were the size of a lake yourusername: you guys know I get notifs for you roasting me on my own post, right?

landonorris: yes. carlossainz55: yes.

user4: is that...george? ...bobbing for...apples?

alex_albon: yes. he lost though. george is a loser.

georgerussell63: i would've won if you didn't idk push my head in

alex_albon: still a loser.

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endless-ineffabilities · 1 year ago

Text

sapphire-hearted (part three)

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

After his proposal, the reader and Aemond have a heated confrontation in the gardens.

themes/warnings: jealous!possessive!Aemond (no surprise that I have to write this for every part of this story... I mean...), angst, language

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

"Will you choose me?"

That managed to stop you in your tracks. Will you choose him? As if you had not chosen him over and over, at every turn, every proposal - only for him to choose to lie with another woman in the end.

And what is worse, he does not seem to find his actions wrong, only defending them. For the good of the realm, he says.

But what if he is sincere about marrying you? Will it only be you, for all time, war be damned? Knowing Aemond, it will not be that simple.

You feel caught in a snare, helpless, for but a second. Weighing your options in your mind.

Yes. Perhaps. No. Fuck you, and your witch.

Your mind finally settles, and you turn to face him, your face cold and unreadable. "That has to be the most selfish thing you have ever said to me."

Aemond appears stunned, unmoving, as he watches you stride towards him.

“Selfish? My desire to be wed to you is a selfish thing?” he asks.

You approach him quickly, breathing heavy as words spill out of your mouth. “I know you, Aemond. Tell me this. Why do you wish to marry me now, after all this time? Why did you not do it fucking seven, eight moons ago? You only want this now because you know that I am serious about getting married to someone else. And what of the unspoken understanding between us that we could never do so because you are a Targaryen, oh great one, and I come from a lowly House of cattle-tending farmers?” You sound venomous, unrestrained, but you do not much care.

Aemond matches you in your ferocity, when he says, “Is that truly what you think? That I would marry you for some foolish reason? That I would do so on a whim? It is true that my family, the council, and perhaps the smallfolk will frown upon our union, but you know what?” He grips your elbow, and you can feel his ragged breathing fanning your face as he drags you closer. “I don’t care anymore. I have always wanted this, and I should get what I want. After everything I have done, all that I have sacrificed for this war, I deserve to marry for love.”

“No, you - ”

“Listen to me, my love,” he leans in, close enough to capture your lips in his if he wishes to. “I’d rather burn everything to the ground, rather than watch you wed another fucking man. I thought you were already well aware of this?”

His lips brush against your ear, sending shivers down your spine, and he whispers, “Do not underestimate my love for you. You’re mine, do you hear? Perhaps you will try to be with someone else, with that Ramsay. But know that it will not end well for him.”

You understand that he is not speaking lightly. That he will make do on his threat if need be. Dangerous, intense, cunning. This was the Aemond you fell in love with, so why should you be taken aback at his words? You crave all of this, all that he truly is.

But you had also thought that all of this, all of him, was only yours.

“No,” you breathe.

“What?”

“My answer is no,” you repeat. “I cannot marry you. Not like this.”

“Because of him?” Aemond accuses.

“Not exactly,” you meet his eye and find a storm of emotion resting there. “You know that I would marry you in a heartbeat.” You remember when he said the same, but it does not sit right with you that he could only have said that out of desperation. Just as he is asking for your hand now, in the heat of the moment.

“Then we shall have it done. On the morrow, if that is what you wish, my love - ”

“But we cannot marry when I do not trust you. When I cannot be certain that you will not go scurrying back to bed with Alys each time you require her visions or her spells.”

Aemond implores, “But it should all end soon. The war… we shall be sure to prevail against our enemies. And then I will have no further use for her. We can have her banished or mutilated for all I care.”

Typical of Aemond to be so thick-headed, and to stick to his ambition. So will he lie with Alys a few more times, breaking your heart, after he has just professed to love and marry you? “I cannot have that.”

“Do you not understand - ”

“I understand perfectly,” you almost hiss at him in your exasperation. “If you wish to wed me, then you cannot have anyone else. By the gods, you should not even remotely desire to be with anyone else, for any reason. Whether it be for the fucking realm, I do not care.”

You pry yourself away from his hold, every step walking back from him giving you room to just breathe. “The very thought of you with her, the truth of it happening, sickens me to my core.”

Laughing menacingly, you add, “Just as the thought of myself with Ramsay angers you so. Tell me, my love - what would you do if I were to ride him, as Alys does you?”

Aemond glares daggers at you, his jaw clenching so hard in his rage.

He seethes, “You would never get the chance. I will bury him long before then.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” you raise your hands in surrender. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“You do not get to simply leave - ” He starts to say, but he is interrupted by someone else rounding the corner.

“Brother,” Aegon greets, an ornate cup of wine held loosely in one hand. Several members of his Kingsguard shadow him, a few paces away. “How come you get to escape our council meetings out here, whilst I waste away with those droll sycophants?”

“Aegon,” Aemond greets, his voice giving away irritation at his brother’s intrusion. “I had no standing affairs today, and I am occupied with something else.”

“Someone else, you mean to say,” Aegon raises his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Nice to see you again, my lady.”

“Your Grace,” you curtsy. “I shall take my leave, so that you might speak to Aemond in private.”

Aegon responds lightly. “Stay, if you please. I do have something to ask you as well. And what is with the ‘Your Grace’? It is just Aegon to you, as always.”

“Of course, Your G-” you catch yourself, smiling now. “I mean, Aegon.” Aemond’s siblings have been more than civil towards you, and if everything else were simpler, then you might even call them your friends.

Now and then, Aegon would make a comment about your status in poor taste, though he means well. One of them being, “What a shame you cannot be made my good-sister through Aemond. The family would surely wed the pair of you, if only you had been a Lady Baratheon, or gods, even a Lannister, though I find the lot of them unbearable. What a shame.”

“So,” Aegon excitedly clasps his hands together, preparing to share some piece of news. “I’ll be holding a small gathering on the morrow. A supper of sorts. Only a few chosen people. Our inner circle, which includes you, my lady.” He wags his finger at you, playfully.

“A feast? Won’t it be improper, Aegon?” Aemond asks, with a tired sigh, already used to his brother’s proclivities.

“Not a feast, dear brother. A small, subdued supper.” Aegon looks to you for support, and you shrug in agreement. He takes a step closer, whispering to you in secret, “It is a feast, actually.” You have to bite back a laugh at his absurdity. It’s somewhat hard to believe that Aegon is the face of the Greens - their cause, their reason to wage this brutal war. Was he not just a young boy who did not choose any of this? A neglected son who was forced to abandon his dream of escape? A crown of thorns thrust upon him in spite of his resistance?

“Aegon - ” Aemonds warns, wary of his brother’s proximity to you. What in the seven hells could he be saying?

“Aemond,” Aegon sings in response, unfazed. “I’ve said my piece. My lady, I shall have my guards escort you when it’s time.”

“Alright,” you say, aware of Aemond’s watchful stare on you. In a split decision, or mayhaps a calculated move, you find yourself requesting, “do you mind terribly if I take Lord Ramsay Beesbury as my companion?”

“Oh, him?” Aegon looks to his brother, weighing his reaction, and immediately growing amused at the fury that he sees. “Well, you may take whomever you please, my lady.”

“She may not,” Aemond quickly counters.

Aegon merely grins, “It’s my party, brother.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“I am your King,” Aegon states. “My word is final.”

"You could be the Smith himself, and I still would not care. She will not be taking him." Aemond says firmly. Only he can talk back to Aegon in such a way, and he surely takes advantage of this when he can.

They lock eyes, until Aegon bursts in a fit of unbridled laughter, his wine sloshing out of his cup.

"Gods be fucking good," Aegon wheezes. "You can hardly control yourself, dear brother." Winking at you, he says, "I suppose there is a damn good reason why they call us Greens. Aemond here is practically greener than Vhagar's slimy old scales with envy."

"Seven hells." Aemond curses in exasperation. Still, after all that, he throws you a look of warning.

You only smile sweetly in return, your mind already made up.

Satisfied with the outcome of this exchange, you nod to both of them, "I shall take my leave, Aegon. Aemond. But we shall see you on the morrow. Thank you for the invitation."

Aemond bristles at your emphasis on we.

Yet he cannot help but watch in adoration as you walk away, your skirts billowing lightly in the wind. His woman.

That Ramsay will not be able to anticipate what's coming for him.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading all of your comments from the previous parts!! Glad we are all on the same page - Aemond should suffer 🤷🏻‍♀️ (or at least, grovel and prove himself, for the next few chapters.)

taglist: @immyowndefender @bellameshipper @aemondswifeisme @bash1018 @fuck-the-reaper @shessthunderstoms @aemondsbabygirl @melsunshine @youtoldalie @snh96 @noxytopy @ellooo0ooo @brianochka @not-a-glad-gladiator @mac95650 @whitejuliana1204 @midnightmystic @saminalloxo @oh-no-tia @magnificentsapphiresoul @clara-geekhime @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @ananas26t @iloveallmyboys @carriellie @summerposie @verycollectivecreator @toodlesxcuddles @brie-annwyl @dc-marvel-girl96 @bellstwd @bibli0thecary @happinessinthebeing @magnificentsapphiresoul

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon #asoiaf

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liyahsim · 2 months ago

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Vampires vs Witches Collection - Everyday Outfit

Surprise! A new collaboration with my friend @luxysims! Halloween is my favorite celebration and we wanted to do a little collaboration and give it a fun twist.

🌙✨ Today, an epic battle breaks out between Luxy and me: Vampires vs. Witches! And I have a mission: convince you to choose vampires! 🦇🦇(Do not read her evil post, is full of lies)

First, let's get one thing straight: When it comes to transportation, who wants to ride a broom when you can arrive at the party in bat form?🦇 It's clear who's got style! While they're rocking their pointy hats and antique-shop vibes, we vampires are rocking red-carpet-worthy looks. Because let's face it, no one's dying for a broom! 🧹

Now, about the powers: Witches cast spells, but their enchantments are more complicated than filling a house with chimneys and hoping it doesn't burn down. We just need to use our charisma, and if it doesn't work we'll always have hypnosis to get our way!

And let's not forget eternity. While witches are searching for herbs in the garden, we're at the party, enjoying the neighbor's blood in fancy glasses. Life is short, but not for us!

So, if you want to join the funnier and darker side of fashion, become a vampire! Because, let's face it, while witches are busy mixing potions, we're setting trends and enjoying the night. 🍷✨

It's time to get your fangs out! Let's win this style war!🧛‍♀️🖤⚰️

My part of the collection:

DOWNLOAD [ EARLY ACCESS ]

DOWNLOAD [ FREE ACCESS ] Public release october 19th

@luxysims part of the collection:

DOWNLOAD [ EARLY ACCESS ]

DOWNLOAD [ FREE ACCESS ] Public release october 19th

@maxismatchccworld @sssvitlanz @coffee-cc-finds @sims4finds @lanaccfind @cchunters @c12ccfinds @mmoutfitters @mmfinds @emilyccfinds @redheadsims-cc @cccorner @wysidiacc @ccsimsfindss4 @cccorner @lotusplumbob @toastyccfinds @cookiesccfinds @strangecowplantfinds @shaenaeccfinds @eanyroseccfinds @kairasimsccfinds @anikasims @blueishccfinds @petiteluneccfind @alt-lanaccfinds

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badwitch-if · 8 months ago

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OG DEMO + AU DEMO

**a note about the demo that won the vote**

Magic is all too real and witches reign supreme.

This is a story of excess & indulgence. Luxury & depravity. Lust & love. Horror & debauchery.

But mostly it's a story of rediscovering your inner witch.

Bad Witch is set in a matriarchal, gothic universe eerily similar to our own, where magic runs the world. And at its core, it is a love letter to the incredibly strong and vibrant friendships that we forge in our youth, and how they ultimately shape the people we become.

Witxhes dominate the upper echelons of society, and magic has seeped into every facet of day-to-day life, for witches and humans alike. Humans were relegated to a lower class of living and as witches tend to be quite opulent & over indulgent [and more often than not revelling in their own personal vices], the bougie Season of the Witch began. Witching Society flourished and quickly overtook over the world, trickling down to influence even those without magic.

SO WILL YOU BE A BAD WITCH, OR A GOOD WITCH?

You were born to one of the most ancient and thus, important witching families; the only child of a famous mother and an even more infamous grandmother. Your ancestors were among the very first witches to lead the revolution, desperate to create a world where their children would never again die by human hands.

Your childhood was rather lonely and spent under the tutelage of the worlds best witches and academics, whilst your mother did her best to ignore your existence whenever it didn’t directly benefit her. And so years later you would often joke that your life really began once you were accepted into Ariadne Academy, the premiere school for exceptionally gifted Witxhes.

You were placed in a coven with eight of your peers; girls and boys who would quickly become your family, until it was almost like you couldn’t remember a time before them. They shared your all-consuming hunger for magic and knowledge and experiences, traits that made your coven [nicknamed the Silverlakers] an unstoppable force within the Demonhall arena. Everything was going so perfectly until it suddenly burned down around you, leaving your coven a husk of its former self.

Aaand this is currently where the stories splinter off.

OG DEMO — In the OG demo, your coven is still somewhat intact. MC’s feelings towards them may or may not have changed, but on the whole, the Silverlakers are still functioning as the overachieving badasses they were at the academy. They’re still your best friends, your soulmates, your lovers. You love them and they most definitely love you — it’s just one big lovefest.

As a master alchemist you tediously work through trials of your newest potion while still coasting off the success of your last serum, the wildly popular Moon Juice. The story focuses on the unnaturally strong bond that exists between the remaining Silverlakers, and the powerful magic you’ve wrought because of that. The incredibly deep but complicated friendships that you built are maintained to this day, and still just as co-dependent... or have they been making you feel stifled or claustrophobic?

You can choose how your relationship with Ash progressed post-breakup. Was it messy and dramatic, or did you keep going back to them, again and again? Have you and Ori been just the bestest friends all this time, or have things gotten a bit awkward?

AU DEMO — In the AU demo, your coven was broken following the loss of one of your own. You all went your own ways and everything that you shared was left by the wayside. You’ve spent the better part of a decade running away from your Silver Lake family, the only real home you ever knew. But now, against all of your better judgements, your returning to York. Only for a few days, of course. A couple weeks, tops.

You haven’t returned since you absconded after graduation, when you used a somewhat controversial but entirely contrived excuse for your disappearance. And as if The Fates themselves had seen to it, you once again find yourself thrown together with the other witches formerly known as Silverlakers. Their reactions to your return are not at all what you had expected, and you’re left second-guessing what actually happened all those years ago.

No matter how deep of a rift was left between your coven, Ori was the one who really refused to give up on you. In their very unique way, they practically strong-armed you into maintaining some kind of contact. Of all your former covenmates, you are hands down closest to Ori. Your breakup with Ash, no matter how it was done, was shocking and cut deep. You can choose whether to stand by your past actions or try to make amends with your first love.

Both the OG & AU stories will feature opportunities to reconnect with: the former childhood friend turned academy rival; as well as the young professor from your university years. And despite their shorter and more mysterious descriptions, they are both main RO’s, along with Ash & Ori.

Will you try to repair the broken connections plaguing your coven, or forge a brand new path? Will you decide to confront the nightmares of your past face on in the Demonhall arena, or continue to ignore the literal demons that chase you?

TW/CW: violent & horrific imagery; explicit language; explicit sex scenes (with options to fade to black); misandry (within context of the story); mentions of blood/gore; child abuse (past tense against MC); very questionable magic usage; frequent scenes where NPCs are intoxicated, under the spell of drugs or magic, as well as just as many options for MC to imbibe; elder abuse; voluntary magical torture

~ Fully customisable character — you can currently play as a woman, man, or non-binary person; straight, gay, or bisexual. Customise your character's personality, style and how they reacted in major moments of their life leading up to present events,

~ Choose how to react to your current coven dynamics — fight to save your soulmates & strengthen your long-established bonds, or play around on greener pastures with other witches

~Experience the Witch's Journey through the Major Arcana – but will your MC make it to the final tarot reading?

~ Meet your familiar and decide which form it takes, with your familiar's animal impacting the story

~ Set up a cozy, witchy corner to call your own! A few options include a reclaimed lighthouse, luxurious penthouse in the sky, and a secluded cabin in the woods

~ Continue to cross sexual conquests off your list of Lovers to Bed, or get serious and pursue a more serious connection. There are currently 4.5 love interests [all gender variable] as well as an optional poly route. I'm also considering bringing back a character who was cut from the OG story... TBD!

~ Decide what happened to MC's relationship with Ash, in the years since graduation. Have they drifted apart while leading separate lives, or have they been on-and-off for the better part of a decade?

~ Get answers & closure by chasing down ghosts from your past. Give yourself over to the demons in your past, or fight to find a balance between your life and the monsters at the gate.

~ Explore the ever-changing hellscapes of Demonhall and confront your demons, or keep those traumatic memories in the past where they belong

~ But above all else, choose which path your character takes going forward. Chase your dreams and loves, or turn your back, light it up & watch the world burn around you.

During your time at Ariadne Academy, rumours swirled nonstop about your coven.

You got along too well.

You loved each other too hard.

Some people said you were a bunch of weirdos, while others whispered [a little too loudly] that all of your parents had conspired together, bribing the Witches Council to put you all together in one coven. But back then you couldn't give a shit about anyone or anything outside your Silver Lake home.

You found your first love within your coven, as well as seven other soulmates. And for a long time, that was all you needed.

☆ Elijah Akos {m}

☆ Suki Aoki {f}

♡ Aisling Casablanca {f} // Asher Casablanca {m}

♡ Oriana Helyr {f} // Orion Helyr {m}

☆ Belladonna Humphrey {f}

☆ Endora Stills {f}

☆ Hazel Trout {f} — Deceased

☆ Bren Wylder {nb}

The grandiose and horrifying Demonhall is a favourite pastime for Witches young and old. Two opposing covens enter the arena (or as it's lovingly called by fans, the Demon Dome) and are sealed inside. Usually a timer is set for 6 hours, but some exhibition games run a 'last Witch standing' simulator, that can go on for days.

At the core of every Demonhall arena lies it's true power, a demonstone. The crystalized heart of a demon powers and creates unique and dangerous environments for covens to progress through. Whether it's a futuristic, neon playground; the dilapidated ruins of Titans; or a much too lifelike version of the floor is lava, each unique setting has been randomly and lovingly crafted by the demonstone.

Just as each demon is unique and come with their specific set of baggage challenges, so do their corresponding arenas. Some are more manipulative in luring you into their traps, while others don't waste time in throwing everything they've got at you.

The object of the game, quite simply, is to challenge & toss opposing witches out of the match, using whatever spells & curses, or hexes & charms you keep in your arsenal. All while avoiding the real terror of the Demonhall, the demon itself.

For over a decade, your life revolved around Demonhall. You were the Lead for your coven, meaning you often bore the brunt of whatever the demonstone was hurtling at you. Your Silver Lake coven dominated the amateur Demonhall circuit for the better part of a decade. You and your covemates were elevated to a level of celebrity that few others at Ariadne Academy could relate to, as you were splashed across dozens of magazine covers before you were 18.

You planned your life around your obsession and love of the game, and as your graduation approached, you fielded dozens of offers to play for top-tier professional teams. But then... the unexpected happened during a match and you lost a member of your coven.

☆The First Love☆ ...& Ash's playlist

Aisling Casablanca {f} // Asher Casablanca {m}, 31

Ash was your first love. You dated for several years during your time at Ariadne Academy. You grew up together in your Silver Lake cottage and soon after you met, you found it hard to deny your teenage crush.

You bonded over a mutual (rather mad) obsession with Demonhall, and it didn't take long for that bond to translate onto the arena. The Silver Lake Demonhall coven dominated the competition, thanks in large part to the connection you shared with Ash.

You made plans together to follow your passions after graduation, and even courted the interest of several top-tier professional clubs. They wanted you both, and were willing to restructure their teams around you & Ash.

But life happened, and you surprised everyone when you suddenly broke things off with Ash and the Demonhall teams. Instead you followed a secondary love and traveled across the world in pursuit of cryptozoological mysteries.

In the decade that you've been working out in the field, Ash has been named Demonhall MVP for three years in a row. Their legions of adoring fans have only multiplied. Is there room for you in their life nowadays, or is it truly too late?

☆The Best Friend☆ ...& Ori's playlist

Oriana Helyr {f} // Orion Helyr {m}, 30

Ori has been your longest and closest friend. No matter what your relationship was like with the rest of the coven, you could always count on Ori having your back. And sometimes being a shoulder to cry on, during the rockier parts of your relationship with Ash. In a way, it's always felt like the three of you had your own kind of connection, but at times, that could put Ori in the middle of your shit with Ash.

Ori is a highly sought after Master Architect, one of only two in the country. They’re instrumental to the buildings integrity and the future success of it’s residences. Ori often spends weeks onsite, crafting intricate enchantments around the bones of the structure, ensuring not only structural safety but doing everything in their power to position them for prosperity.

There's never been any fronts or facades with Ori, just transparent (sometimes brutal) honesty. You've never had to pretend around them and you might even be your truest self when you're with them. And then the two of you would stay up all night, talking and watching movies, and polishing off copious amounts of alcohol. In fact, many of those nights ended up serving as inspiration for your new experimental potion, a cure-all hangover draught.

In the years since the academy, Ori has tracked you down across the globe too many times to count. It always seemed like they had some magical way of knowing when your life was going to shit and they'd spontaneously turn up with boxes of wine & chocolate, immediately taking over your kitchen to cook up something utterly delicious

☆The Lifelong Rival☆ ...& Poe's playlist

Viridian ‘Poe’ Black {f/m}, 31

Poe was one of your very first friends, long before the academy. Your mothers ran in the same high society circles and so you were often left to your own devices. For Poe that usually meant running off into the woods to scout for berries and beasts, or tirelessly watching or reading up on anything to do with Demonhall. And in fact decades later, you've still never met anyone as obsessed with the game as them. Even as a kid, Poe was haughty and overtly snobby; they always knew exactly what and who they liked, and rarely strayed outside the lines.

But for some reason or another, you were someone they happily tolerated and actually seemed to like. Much to their delight their Demonhall fanaticism eventually infected you as well, and you spent countless hours debating the various forms, methods, and positions of the beautiful but deadly game. The two of you would often daydream about your future life at Ariadne Academy, and their eyes lit up with unabashed glee when they spoke of how together, you would bring about a new era of Demonhall. But then came the week before coven placements. And even after all of their extensive testing, you & Poe weren't placed together.

After that Poe very rarely spoke to you and altogether stopped responding to your many messages over the years, and just like that, the delicate friendship you once shared was snuffed out. And while they'd always been sarcastic and biting, that had rarely been directed towards you. Until you were put in competition, both academically and in the Demonhall arena, and then you were introduced to an entirely different side of Poe. The one that knew your weaknesses and just when to exploit them, who seemed to take a particular happiness from your defeat.

☆The One That Got Away☆

Julia St. James {f} // Julian St. James {m}

Jules is the youngest of nine children and grew up in Bilbao, Spain. They were generally spoiled as a child, doted on by all of their siblings, aunts and uncles. They could never want for tutors or toys or courtiers, but it was all rather tiresome.

They would later travel the continent as a young apprentice of a new philosophy, but they were never alone; always in the company of their cousins, Vix and Maz. Jules developed a deep appreciation for the fine arts and very delicious things during this time away from home.

Jules has now perfected the balancing act, living in both worlds. They work tirelessly as a professor of Theological Witchcraft but lately they've been feeling the pull to leave the classroom and get back out into the world.

☆ ... ☆

#if #interactive fiction #hosted games #choicescript #interactive novel #witches #choice of games #magic #wip #if wip #badwitch #badwitch if #if: wip #if: fyi

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