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anyarose011 · 3 months ago

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"Crawling Back to You" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: It started with a night out in King's Landing, then a fake name, and then a disagreement. Some time after cooling off, and after a job gone wrong, you and the one-eyed prince come to...an understanding in the rain.

Part 2 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Oral sex (f and m receiving), nudity, groping, talk of death, swearing, canon-typical injury, sexual harassment (not done by Aemond), and mention of past child SA

Heyyyyyy pookies. So I just started my senior year and it's been hectic. BUT I hope this long ass chapter (it took me forever) makes up for it! I'm also not sure how accurately I'm writing Aemond. I mean, I know HBO is making him into the edgiest edge lord, but I'm taking creative liberties i guess. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 8.5k

“It’s a pleasure to finally put a name to your face. One that fits its beauty.” He smiled.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile on your lips. It was a stupid compliment, one that you had heard several variations of the rare times men would flirt with you those days. But…it felt different from him.

Still, you merely scoffed, setting the jug on your hip. “Do you want to lead the way, or should I?”

“Go ahead; considering you believe I’ll harm you somehow.”

“See?” You decided to tease instead of defy as you began to walk up the cobbled hill. “You are funny.”

Aemond scoffed, following you. “Did I ever deny it?”

“How you reacted when I first said it never gave me a clear answer.”

“Shouldn’t you change?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

Unashamedly, his eye trailed over your body and yours soon followed. Your nipples were perking through the thin material of the dress.

“Seven Hells.” You cursed, bringing the jug in front of yours.

Aemond came to your side, a hand on your back and leading you up the hill. “You don’t wear a corset?”

“Not with this. I’m meant to lure lustful men, remember?”

“Perhaps you can tell me where you tailor so we can get more appropriate clothing?”

Hell no.

“Or,” you suggested. “I could teach you how to properly steal something?”

“You need to be able to not draw attention to yourself to do that.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“I have no doubt, but the clothing off a man’s back?”

You paused for a moment before replying. “Yes, actually; I even managed all of one’s undergarments.”

Aemond shook his head, pulling his hood farther up to hide his smile. “I mean more so with that dress.”

“It might surprise you, but that is how I robbed him blind.”

“I mean in the sense that-.”

“-I understand.” You shut him up, but not aggressively. The two of you passed by more and more people through the many alleys of King’s Landing. When you got to the main roads, you would’ve lost Aemond in the crowd if it weren’t for the fact his hand had traveled from your back to your arm.

Maybe it was because he was paying you, or maybe it was because you didn’t know how touch starved you had been until it felt like his hand was simultaneously burning and soothing you; but you welcomed his touch.

As you continued to brave through the busyness of the city, you managed to spot a hobbling man wearing a long cloak with a drink in his hand. You smirked at your companion.

“Are you watching?”

He nodded, and how he looked you up and down briefly didn’t escape you. “I’m watching.”

You handed him the jug of water and approached the slightly incapacitated man. You pitched your voice up when you asked. “Ser?”

The man glanced up at you through hooded eyes, and he grunted in response.

“Are you alright?” You feigned concern, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold him up.

“Aye.” He sighed. “Much better now that you’re here.”

You giggled, leading him. “You’re too kind.”

“If it’s possible, could that kindness be repaid?”

“Let me at least have your name first,” you turned him down a spacious alleyway where there were less people. “Then I will know what to scream.”

“Gaius. You may-oi!”

You snatched the cloak right off his shoulders and took off in a mad dash down the rest of the alley. Turning your head over your shoulder for merely a second, you were graced to watch as the drunk man stumbled over his own footing before two hands in front of you grabbed your arms. Once you were pulled around the corner, you raised your hands to strike your assailant; to which he caught both of them.

“Is it truly that easy to rob Smallfolk?” Aemond asked, not letting go of your wrists.

Snickering, you pulled away from him. “I thought you said you were watching me?”

“I was.”

“Clearly not.” You slipped the cloak over your body, tying it. “You were lurking in the shadows.”

“I still saw you.” He retorted.

Shaking your head, you bent down and picked up your jug of water on the ground. Then, you stuck your hands into the pockets of the cloak. Your face lit up, and your retracted your hand, holding four pennies in your palm.

“Come with me.” Was all you said before walking past him and continuing down the street.

Aemond was by your side once more. “And where exactly are you taking me to?”

“Are you fond of sweets?”

“I enjoy them, but rarely indulge.”

“Then I will be more of a temptress tonight without having to show any of my skin.” You said excitedly.

All the prince did was smile; somehow trusting your ‘madness’. It was a short walk from where you were to a small stand in one of the several market corners of King’s Landing. Despite the long line, you pushed to the front, ignoring all of the comments and curses from the people.

“Evening, Marija.” You greeted the older woman. “Oh my, has someone bewitched you? You look younger!”

“What do you want?” She sighed your name tiredly, but a pleasant smile was on her features.

Sliding the four pennies onto the counter, you said. “Two dishes of Northern Snow.”

“Do you have two other pennies?”

“This was all I was paid.” You sighed. “You know how short everyone is on coin.”

“Precisely why I need every bit of what is owed to me.”

Shaking your head, you lowered your voice. “Do you see the man lingering behind me? The one with one eye.”

She glanced over your shoulder for just a moment, long enough for it to look like an accident and not a stare. “Yes?”

“He’s a rich lord from Essos,” You began the lie with a truth. “and he has fallen in love with me.”

“You have always told marvelous tales, but even for you-.”

“-Marija…I have a good feeling about him.” You spoke with more insistence. “You know that doesn’t happen very often.”

The older woman looked at you for a little longer, as if to try and pick apart your deceit. Then, when she could find no trace of it, she sighed heavily. Still, she brought out two small vanilla cakes and laid them on the counter, then brought out the bowl of puffy cream.

“You better invite me to this extravagant wedding of yours.” She frosted the cakes with the cream, creating a fluffy topping that looked as if it was true snow itself. Marija then drizzled melted chocolate over both cakes before handing them to you. “Considering this handsome stranger is wealthy.”

“He is strange.” You chuckled. “A bit arrogant too, but I shall live.”

“All men are arrogant.”

“You have not met this one. Thank you, Marija.”

“Sure, sure,” she scoffed. “Give me your water as well; I’m parched.”

“Only if you give me the jug back. I need it.”

“I’ll come around tomorrow and visit Yelena in the meantime, is that alright?”

Your smile fell for just a moment, before forcing it back. “Sounds great!”

Rushing away, you could barely hear her goodbye before you soon found Aemond again, handing him the dish. His nose wrinkled as you immediately sunk your fork into the pastry. “What is this?”

“Northern Snow.” Your answer was somewhat muffled by the amount of food in your mouth. “Marija’s traveled across the realms and has been popular for her desserts. The snow is just whipped cream with sugar and some rosewater.”

“The brown parts?” He poked the treat.

“Chocolate, but it’s meant to look like horse droppings.”

“I believe I’ll pass.”

You shook your head. “I’m meant to be showing you around the joys of the city that is not just brothels. Trust me.”

He matched your seriousness. “And if I find it revolting?”

“Then you may know where I tailor.”

Humming, he smiled as he dug his fork into the cake and then into his mouth. He pursed his lips together as you watched him ponder the taste. Then, he shook his head, taking another bite.

“You must be a witch to have known I would favor it.”

Smiling victoriously, the two of you walked a short while through the congested market until you managed to find two chairs and a table.

“What did you tell her?” He asked as you sat. “The woman who made this?”

“That you were Prince Aemond and would have my head if I did not serve you a Smallfolk delicacy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” You agreed, taking a bite of your treat. You hesitated on your next words. “I…she’s a romantic, and I didn’t have enough for the cakes, so I told her you were a rich lord courting me.”

It was nice you didn’t immediately expect him to lash out or condemn you to your death; he seemed genuinely composed every time you were with him, and he stuck to that.

“And what was my name?” He humored.

“I didn’t tell her one.” You teased. “If you were not yourself, what would you have wanted to be called?”

He hummed, taking time for an answer before settling on. “Ciarán.”

“I’ve met one or two of those.” You nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Might I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Do you summon your knife out of thin air, or do you hide it in your cunt?”

Choking on your food, you placed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Once you were alright, you finally looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The rumors I’ve heard of you isn’t just about your beauty.” He grinned, knowing the effect on you. “It’s known that you assault men with a blade, but I’ve heard conflicting accounts.”

You stared at him for a little longer before shaking your head, snorting. “Inside of my thigh, like a normal person. You nearly grazed it the first night.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head to the side.

Nodding, you smirked as you took another bite. It was then that his eye darkened just a hint. “What?”

Aemond didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he bunched up the sleeve of his shirt, reached over to take your face into his free hand, and wiped the corner of your lip with his sleeve. “You had something white on your face.”

It was your turn to hum at his statement, continuing to eat; yet, you would glance at him more often while you slid the fork into your mouth, tongue trying to lick the utensil clean of the whipped cream. You both finished up in silence between each other, yet the people around you only chatted excitedly, laughed boldly, or moaned and fucked one another in the dingiest of places nearby.

“Is it fun to be a prince?” You asked, pushing in your chair when you bother stood to leave.

“I wouldn’t call it such.” Aemond shrugged, following suite, and the two of you were wandering aimlessly once again.

“Then what is it you do for fun?”

“I find myself in the library often; reading, studying the history.” He listed. “I train with Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the king.”

“You sound like you enjoy his company.”

“I enjoy making him falter as we spar.” He looked at you. “You mustn’t be so horrible in combat. On account of you supposedly taking men’s lives for bounties.”

Shaking your head, you place your hands in the pockets of the cloak. “I don’t take pride in it. I’ve also had my fair share of bruises and broken bones.”

“How many have you killed?”

“How many have you?”

Your response would’ve only worked if it had not been for the well-known fact he had killed Lucerys; something you had forgotten when you saw him again. Now, there you both were, your pace slowing equally in the silence that was the discomfort you had created.

Still, he responded. “Only one; and I assume you along with the rest of Westeros knows who by now.”

Nodding, you kept your eyes down on the road in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “It’s not my place. If you wish to tell me, then tell me. If not, then I believe it’s your turn to ask something about me.”

Humming, he prodded. “Again, how many men have you killed?”

“The same as you.” You stood closer to him as a crew of rowdy men began to pass by. “He was an angry man; a ratcatcher fired from his profession, and to my luck, with no family or anyone to miss him.”

“It must have been his luck as well, considering what happened to all of them merely a week ago.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge the gate into that conversation. “I had only done the luring and thievery for a single moon; the worst I had come across was a bloodied nose and a bruised rib. This night…Chansey had warned me not to pursue him, but I was young and ignorant. I didn’t even get to the well before he came up behind me and…”

This was far too intimate of a story to tell someone you had only met twice; nonetheless, one of the princes of Westeros. You decided to end it as soon as possible. “He didn’t hurt me in the way you’re thinking. We struggled against one another, I had no knife with me at the time, but he did. He dropped it as we fought, we both reached for the blade, and I got it first.”

The two of you had somehow wandered into a small, quiet square; perhaps only a few other people resting from a drunken bender. Aemond, with his hands behind his back, simply inquired.

“Did he have anything of value on him?”

Shaking your head, you grinned. “Three pennies, a half-penny, and a surprisingly clean red scarf.”

“And the scarf was the most priceless.”

“Of course. I would’ve died in the winter without it.”

You both chuckled, and it was him who halted the walking. You stopped in front of him a few places.

“I hadn’t meant to kill Luke.” Aemond admitted softly.

“Lucerys?” You clarified.

“Yes; only frighten him.” He sighed. “It…it was an unfortunate outcome to what I had intended.”

If he were not himself (perhaps the rich Lord Ciarán he wished to be for that one night), then you would have told him it did not matter what he intended. A boy was dead and that put all of Westeros at risk. Still, whilst your anger was present, you understood you would never know what happened that day. You also understood his regret above all; you had no right to act like a saint.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You genuinely had no idea how to respond to him. So, you did what your mother had done for you whenever you were upset as a child: Ask what you needed from her.

His eye met yours, and you somehow found the courage to not look away from him. After what felt like a lifetime, he approached you suddenly and gradually wrapped his arms around you. Your body was akin to a corpse with how frozen you had become. Still, it didn’t last for long as you found yourself easing into his hold, your own arms around his neck. The night was so quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths in your ear.

Then, his hand slipped into your pocket.

At the sudden change of touch, you flinched out of his touch, but he merely shushed you, pulling away fully. You reached into the pocket and pulled out what he had promised you; three silver moons.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him and saw…an array of emotions you could not describe. So, you spoke first.

“I…I hope tonight was enough for you. I’m not sure what else I-.”

“-It was nice.” He interrupted, his gaze still on you. “Lovely, even.”

Nodding, you pocketed the moons and kept your hands at your side. “I bid you a goodnight, Little Prince.”

He rose his brow. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”

“Will you have my head then, your grace?” You taunted.

“I should.” He walked closer to you. “But I won’t. What direction is your house?”

Your heart leapt; yet, not in the way it should have after an attractive man (you would later admit) made a forward remark.

“Oh no, I will not bother you.”

“It is not a bother if I desire to see you home safely.” He argued.

“Aemond,” you stepped back, not wanting to play a game. “I don’t want you to walk with me for the rest of the night.”

The quietness returned; but, not one of comfort. He didn’t look angry, and that was what frightened you. He merely stood tall like a man.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean to say it so-.”

“-Yet you said it.”

Shaking your head, you tried again. “I offended you, and I’m sorry. My house is no place for anyone other than myself and-, not even other smallfolk.”

“I wouldn’t go inside if that is what worries you. I am merely curious.”

“Look,” you approached him again, only for him to step away. “if you wish to see me again, I wouldn’t mind at all-.”

“-As long as I have coin.”

Your face went blank for a few seconds you had been so shocked by his words, and soon formed a scowl. “You had offered.”

“You didn’t reject it.”

All you could do was laugh. “You-!”

He wasn’t the one to cut you off, it had been yourself. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands over your mouth to ponder your next words. You were tired, frustrated, and wanted to go home. So, you did exactly that.

“Be safe on your journey back to the Red Keep.” Was all you said, and you brushed past him, expecting him to call you a nasty name, or chase after you again.

But, like the first night you had met him: He did nothing.

A week later, you were back where you’d always been at night: Sylvi’s brothel. As you prettied yourself, the girls were restless; not with enthusiasm for the clients, but for the talk of war. Whether it was the fear of death it would bring, or the lust for strong men to take comfort inside of a woman.

You were a part of the former. Not as horrible as some girls (you found one vomiting up her dinner after the discussion), but you had to admit you were judgmental of those excited about it. You yourself had never experienced war…but if it was just a smidge like the violence you and other women had ever suffered multiplied by a thousand…it wasn’t something you were looking forward to.

Later, you waited in Sylvi’s private quarters (the one place no one is allowed to go during work hours unless she permitted it) until it was Chansey who came, saying she had quarry for you.

She had been with an older, retired member of the Lannister guards. He was three and fifty, she told you; fucked like an animal, but when it was over, while he desired to do it again, his body ached so horribly he could only walk.

It was meant to be easy…but for any reason at all, it wasn’t that night.

You stumbled as you brought your knife out, and he unsheathed a dagger from his side. You fought and fought, it almost being like a twisted dance; he’d strike, you’d doge, and vice versa. He swiped against your side, and it stung but you had no time to even seethe in pain as he brought his blade up to stab you again.

He’d gotten tired sooner than you imagined, and you grabbed onto his sleeve, then dragging him into a handful of barrels nearby. He landed in a crash, and he wasn’t getting up. He was still breathing as you looted him. A few Coppers and a silver Stag.

It was only then, as you pushed your way through the boisterous crowds, that you felt your head begin to lighten, and your side grow heavy. Looking down at the gnawing pain, you saw crimson soak your thin gown. Oh…you were wounded.

“Chansey?” You called out over the groaning of whores and their patrons once you made it back to the brothel. The lights seemed dimmer than usual, and with one hand keeping pressure on your wound, you used your other to tap the shoulder of the nearest server.

She gasped upon seeing you. “What happened?”

“Where’s Chansey?” You asked.

“She-she’s with someone.”

“Seven Hells, already?!” Sighing, you took one of the chalices off her tray. “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

And you took it in one gulp. The server gaped at you as you took another one, also downing it like it was water. “Thank you.”

Her voices of worry were once again drowned out by the sound of constant pleasure from every corner of the brothel. Now, what the server did not tell you, was that it wasn’t the cheap wine usually served to the common payer; no…it was incredibly rich, and incredibly strong.

It also didn’t help you barely ate or drank water that day. So, to no one’s surprise but yours, you were stumbling through the entire pleasure house.

“Needle and thread?” You slurred, pulling open one of the curtains abruptly only to see five naked women lying next to two men. “Sorry.”

You felt the blood begin to seep through the small cracks of your fingers and your pressure wavering as you made your way to the next curtained area.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” You asked again, being welcomed by Valda laying on her back with a man’s head between her legs.

She screamed at your intrusion and cried your name. “What the fuck?!”

“Hey,” in your haze, you found it amusing. “do you know where Chansey is?”

“Get out!”

“Okay, okay.” you whistled at the man. “Good ser, I do declare that you are a gift from The Seven because only They know how many men actually come here to-.”

“-Wait, are you bleeding?!” She sat up in alarm.

You left immediately, taking deep breaths to try and remain upright as you continued your search. A hand grazed your shoulder.

“Are you alright, girl?”

A putrid looking man questioned with a toothy grin as you turned briefly to see who touched you. You nodded. “I’m fine, go away.”

“Hey now,” he tried to make a grab for you again, but you shoved him off. “don’t be like that.”

“I’m dying, I think I can be.”

“Let me give you a little death.” He flirted.

You grabbed the nearest curtain, tossing it aside. “For fuck’s sake, does anyone have a-?!”

Words failed as you gazed upon Madame Sylvi sucking the cock of a standing man. It was then that your eyes traveled up his body, and saw a familiar, silver-haired prince.

A prince with one eye shut, and a sapphire where an eye-patch should have been.

Your mouth ran dry at the sight of him falling apart in whimpers, and it dropped once his eye opened and immediately went to yours.

Aemond released a loud groan, tossing his head back as cum dripped through the creases of Sylvi’s mouth. She drew herself away from him, still on her knees, wiping her mouth and looking over at your interruption.

“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?!”

Your words fell into syllables as you genuinely had no idea what to say. Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw the man that had been following retreat.

“Hey!” You yelled, hobbling after him. “You sheep fucker, get back here!”

Two hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around sharply, causing a reminder of the wound in your side. You hissed, clutching it and trying to smother a cry. You kept your head low as the person who had manhandled you led you back into Sylvi’s small room. You were laying on the pillows and thin mattress. It was then you saw Aemond Targaryen hovering above you.

“No-!” You tried to push him away.

“-Calm down.” He insisted, restraining you. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“If you touch me, I’ll carve out your other eye and feed it to your mother.” You slurred.

Instead of killing you right there, he thinned his lips. “While I don’t doubt that, you shouldn’t need to worry; I’m well spent.”

You gagged, shutting your eyes in disgust and tossing your head further into the pillow you rested on. You felt a presence soon beside you, and you opened your eyes to see Sylvi.

“My prince,” she turned to Aemond. “please wait in my personal quarters and I’ll-.”

“-I’ll hold her down.” He interrupted. “She’s a fighter, if you don’t know.”

“Believe me,” she unscrewed a bottle of alcohol. “I do.”

Sylvi hiked up your dress, completely exposing you from the waist down, and poured liquid over your side, causing a squeal to escape your throat. In an attempt to not just remain calm for yourself and everyone else in the building, you did your best to stifle your cries. It only became harder to do once Sylvi stuck a needle in your skin.

That was when you instinctively rose yourself up, only for Aemond to force you back down, putting his entire weight upon you. Your hands traveled up to his bare shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin and even scratching in an animalistic attempt to get him off of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in quivering breaths and suppressed your grunts in pain. It looked like everything was underwater, and you could barely make out the face of the man above you. You only saw the shimmering jewel where his left eye should’ve been.

Then, the pain was over.

Your heartbeat began to slow down, and it was no longer the only sound in your ears. Your body rose momentarily as you felt bandages being wrapped around your waist, and your dress finally lowered, covering your nakedness. You felt a warm hand brush your face gently before it pulled away abruptly.

“What did you do now?” Sylvi sighed, tossing her materials away.

You groaned, unable to move. “Bad job.”

“And so, you decided to come and bother me?”

“Chansey was fucking someone and I-.”

“-Watch your words!” She lightly slapped your face and whispered fiercely. “Prince Aemond is here, and I will not have you speak like that.”

You laughed, glancing over at Aemond, who had put his pants on, and was working on his shirt. “Do you hear that, Aemond? I can’t say ‘fuck’!”

“Are you drunk?” She hissed.

“Nooooo.” You trailed off before giggling.

Sylvi stood, placing her head in her hands and shaking her head. Now noticing how strange the whole situation was, you pushed yourself up. Your body was scalding, but you would rather die walking away from embarrassment than in the heat of it.

“He had some coin.” you sat up. “I don’t know where it went, but I’ll find it. I have to go home now.”

“You are not walking out like this.” She pushed you back down.

“I’m not sleeping here.”

“I’ll take her back.”

The prince stood tall, slipping his patch over the sapphire. Sylvi shook her head. “No.”

“Are you questioning my authority, Madame?” He challenged.

You watched her flinch. Then, taking a breath she explained. “You needn’t bother with her; she’s a humble, little thing that doesn’t listen to anyone other than herself. Besides, you requested and paid for two hours, yet you have only used twenty min-.”

“-I will gladly spend the rest of it escorting her home.”

Again, the only sounds being heard was skin slapping alongside loud moans outside. You looked in between the prince and the Madame as if you were a child being fought over. So, coughing, you sat up again.

“Can I wear my own clothes, please?”

Sylvi, for the first time that night, coddled you. “Of course. Aemond, could you tell the first girl you see to fetch her clothes from my quarters, please?”

He nodded, leaving you two alone. When he was out of sight, she brushed the hair sticking against your sweaty face.

“Tell him you changed your mind, and you’re too weak to walk.” She begged.

“And if he says he’ll carry me?”

She scoffed. “He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sylvi kissed your cheek as if to soothe you. “I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“He told me he already had his fill of cunt.”

“Men can still hurt little girls without their cock.”

“Take a look at me,” you sassed. “don’t you think I already know that?”

She said your name softly. “He’s not as kind as he seems.”

“No, he’s not. He acts like he’s been born out of an ass’ ass. I mean…how you feel about the Dowager Queen-.”

Slamming a hand over your mouth, she spoke in your ear. “-Not another word from you. You listen to me; I’ve come to know him for the years I’ve spent with him longer than the weeks you have had with him.”

“If he’s so horrible,” you took her hand away. “then tell me what he has done.”

“He-.”

“-Never mind, I don’t care.”

Instead of stepping into the room, Aemond had tossed your set of clothes through the curtains, landing on the floor. Without words, but with looks that could kill, Sylvi helped dress you and then led you out of the brothel.

It was downpouring, and while your clothes thankfully covered almost every inch of your skin, save for your face, you weren’t in the mood to be bathed in rainwater. Sylvi hadn’t even wished you a proper goodbye; just nodded to a hooded Aemond beside you and went back inside.

“I assume you can walk?” He asked, almost annoyed at his own idea to walk you home.

“You’re not going to carry me?” You teased.

“No.”

Sighing dramatically, you took a few steps out into the rain, and immediately felt agonizing pain. Well, not as bad as earlier, but it hurt. Still, you decided to follow the best given advice: Walk it off.

“Stop, stop.” Aemond shook his head after you limped four more steps, coming to your side. “Lean against me.”

You didn’t argue, draping your arm over his shoulders. You both walked as quick as you could in the rain, you giving him directions the best you could (he had to turn around twice to go back to the same fork in the road) until you tapped his shoulder.

“Wait-wait, I don’t feel good.”

“Seven Hells.” He cursed, pulling you over to the side of the street. Grabbing your hands he placed them on the nearest wall, standing behind you to guide you.

“Hey, hey!” You rose your voice. “Don’t-don’t you even think of hiking my skirt up!”

“You’re going to smell like death in a moment, why would I ever-?”

“-Because men are…are…”

You gagged, and Aemond’s hands immediately vanished as you threw up what little you had eaten that day. Your throat was on fire the whole time, making the chill of the rain even more apparent.

“Oi!” An older man yelled. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth and turning over to look at him standing in a doorway of his shop. “Yes, thank you!”

“Do you know that man with you?”

Before Aemond could say anything, you pat his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll have you know, this is Lord Ciarán of House…Strong…Man, Strongman. He’s one of the richest men in Westeros.”

“Is that so?” He nodded, then looked at your companion. “Lad, do yourself a favor and put your old lady to bed.”

Aemond forced a smile, taking your arm and returning it back to its proper place over his shoulder. The two of you were on the road again, you leading him blindly throughout the streets. The rain felt nice at this point; not exactly, but your throat had been parched, so most of the time, you were holding your mouth up and tongue out like a child to catch the rainwater.

At one point, he hissed in pain, his hand coming up to his eyepatch.

“What is it, what’s wrong?!” You gasped.

“Nothing.” He cursed. “’Just keep going.”

Reluctantly, you carried on through King’s Landing until you reached your home.

“Okay, we’re here.” You stopped him a few minutes later.

Aemond looked at the building before him; it was a bouchère. “Here?”

“No, down there.”

He followed your gaze, and sure enough, there was a set of stairs to the side leading down. Carefully, you both scaled down the steps, and entered your home.

There was no leaking anywhere, to your surprise. With only the little amount of light within the sitting room, you knew Aemond (even with one eye) could see just how much dust there was on the furniture.

“Hells,” he sighed heavily, slipping off his cloak before you could stop him. “how do you live in this humidity? I can barely breathe.”

“I-.”

“-Vivi.” A sweet, tired voice called for you.

In the corner of the room, in her usual chair, was your grandmother. Her eyes drew up to the door once you entered, and they were alight.

“I thought you were out for too long.” She stood.

“Evening, Gigi.” You staggered over, embracing her. “And how was holding down the fort?”

“Some mice almost came in, but I showed them who was the boss around here.”

“I’m sure you did.”

It was only then did she fully realize there was someone else with you; a man. A man with silver hair. She gasped, turning back to you.

“Siobhan, you didn’t tell me the king was visiting!”

You cackled. “Gigi no, this is my friend-.”

She gently took his hand into hers, kissing it. “-Your grace, you must forgive my dear girl; she has a knack for getting into trouble, but not for telling me things.”

And then, Aemond did something you weren’t expecting. He placed his other hand over your grandmother’s, smiling.

“All is forgiven.”

Her grin was contagious as she pulled her hand away to hike her long skirt up, walking to the kitchen. “Oh, I shall make tea! Imagine what Cassian would think?” She chuckled. “Jaehaerys himself in our house!”

The name she uttered sobered you up; not all of you, but enough for terror to return into your body. Once she was out of sight, with a growing fear in your eyes, you looked at Aemond.

“You-you must understand, she hasn’t been herself since I was a child. I don’t think she’s even aware there is-was another-.”

“-I’m not a fool.” He stopped you. Noticing you had the face of someone who would vomit for the second time that night, he said. “I told you; I enjoyed reading the histories. I’m well aware the king before my father was Jaehareys.”

Feeling as if you could breathe again, you rested against the wall. “Thank you.”

Aemond hummed. “Why ‘Gigi’?”

“She never liked me calling her ‘Grandmama’.”

“And who’s Siobhan?”

Your eyes drew to the ground. No mice were in the house, but a few spiders had made their way in. “My mother.”

“Ah.” Was all he could manage.

“She uh, she died when I was one and ten; that’s when Gigi…”

“How?”

“What?”

“How did she die?”

Something clogged your throat, and your head felt heavy all over again. Swallowing the lump, you tried to find the words to-.

“-Forgive me. “Aemond spoke. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“No, you-.” You shook your head. “I understand your curiosity.”

And there you two were, against the wall in silence. Sighing you finally said.

“She forgets what she was meant to do when she enters a room with a purpose.” You explained. “I guarantee you, she’s doing a puzzle instead of making tea. We don’t have the best leaves anyway.”

He nodded. “Do you wish for me to leave, then?”

Your eyes went to one of the only windows in the house; the long, thin panel at the top where you could see the feet of everyone in King Landing if it were a nice day. The rain came down harsher, the spattering of water being almost too loud.

“You can stay until the storm eases,” you answered. “if you want.”

“I would prefer it.”

Nodding, the heaviness of your head did not cease, and your eyes drifted to the doorway in the back of sitting room. You made your way through it, glancing back at Aemond.

“If I may be candid, I’m quite exhausted. So…unless you’d prefer being called ‘Your Grace’ by my grandmother, then you’re more than welcome to talk with me in my room.”

“Hm, the former sounds tempting.” Despite his words, he followed close behind you.

You pushed open your door, took a few steps towards your bed, and lowered yourself to lie down with a sharp wince. The prince took his time observing your room, taking in every little detail. From the residue of a mess being pushed under your bed, to old childhood art pieces up on the wall.

One piece had caught his eye the most. A sketch of a woman’s face; a haunting gaze in her eyes that would make anyone believe she was watching them.

Much like yours…

“This is Siobhan?”

Better to use your mother’s name as if she were a stranger instead of calling her ‘your mother’.

“Gigi drew that.” You smiled lightly. “It was on one of her namedays.”

“It’s beautiful.”

His compliment unnerved you before it flattered you. You deflected with a joke. “Beautiful enough to have her paint the Targaryens the next time they so desire it?”

“If she cannot remember to boil tea-?”

“-She is herself again when she does or speak of things she loves.” You sat farther up against the wall behind your bed “Even if they’re things that no longer are with us.”

He sat at the edge of the mattress. “And what are some of those things?”

Oh, where to start? As your mind rattled over what exactly to say first, you truly looked over Aemond for the first time. It was strange; you had acknowledged his attractiveness for just a moment, but never delved more into it.

Then, as you stared at him, you knew exactly what to tell him.

Giggling, you began. “Cassian was my grandfather; I hadn’t known him, he died before I was born. Still, if it’s not him she speaks about being in love with, it’s ‘Elio’; a Dornish man, her first love.”

“Some might say they are far greater than the one you marry.” He shrugged.

“She’s never told me his real name.” You leaned forward. “She said that he had to keep it secret from her for a long time, and he only told her after she got drunk, and he thought she wouldn’t remember.”

The two of you laughed lightly, and you kept going through your giggles. “He-he was only in King’s Landing for a year and went back to Sunspear. They would send ravens to each other, but then he stopped one day. She married my grandfather, had my mother, he died, and that was life.”

“And then there was you.”

You nodded, thinning your lips. “And then there was me.”

“You’ve talked about your mother, but you haven’t mentioned your father yet.”

Sighing, you rubbed your finger into the blanket you rested upon, looking away from him. “When my grandfather’s heart gave out, Gigi had to take on more work at the tailor’s and they still weren’t making enough for food. So…my mother took up working with Sylvi. She was fifteen, and Sylvi only let her cook and clean. When she was of age, she let her go to bed with the men for her coin. I could’ve walked past my father, and I wouldn’t be able to know.”

Aemond stared at her, nodding. “You’re a bastard.”

“It’s the one time I enjoy being smallfolk.” You shrugged. “I can just as easily lie and say my father died while married to my mother.”

“No one else knows?”

“Sylvi and Marija; the woman who gave us Winter Snow.” You scoffed. “Some old neighbors who’ve thankfully died, but I still remember their insults as I passed by them when I was just a child.”

He hummed, and you did not blame him for not saying anything after you. The two of you just existed in your childhood bedroom, the rain still beating against the roof, but not quite as hard this time.

“What were you like when you were a boy?” You questioned.

“Not like my brother or nephews.” He answered right away. “They…teased me a lot.”

“I’ve never had brothers or sisters, but aren’t they meant to?”

“Not like how they did.”

Oh…so it was bad. You wouldn’t ask him how horrible it was, knowing that there are some things no one would ever want to speak of.

“I’m sorry they did.”

He shook his head. “No need, it was years ago.”

“It was still wrong.”

Aemond didn’t say anything; didn’t even look at you. Then, for some reason…you felt compelled (maybe even okay) to tell him. “My mother she…died the same way my grandfather did.”

“His heart.”

“We-we think so. It’s strange though; she was so young, and just one night we were eating dinner, she stands to go tend to the fire…and she fell. It…it was as if her soul had been sucked away from her and all that was left was her body.”

“And you think you’ll die like her.”

Swallowing thickly, you had hoped he didn’t see right through you about that; but at the same time…how freeing it felt to be seen even in the most shameful and terrifying moments of life.

“She was the main provider for our house.” You went into more detail. “Gigi tried her best, but it wasn’t enough. My mother…Sylvi hasn’t told me everything she did to earn enough coin, and I don’t think I want to know. Many healers have said that people dying from a bad heart at such a young age is due to stress. I don’t know if they’re right, and even when I was one and ten, I did everything in my power not to feel so, but Gigi would wander around King’s Landing late at night, or we couldn’t afford food for days on end…”

You were vomiting all of your troubles onto him, it was disgusting; but, once you started, you couldn’t stop. The storm had picked up again, and from how the wind shook the walls of your room, you thought they would all crumble.

“Sylvi knew of us struggling, and she paid for our meals. I was to become an indentured servant to her, like how my mother was; cooking, cleaning, running odd errands…but she paid me in coin as well. I think-I think she thought I was going to follow in my mother’s footsteps when I was of age, but I refused. That’s when some of the girls and I came up with a way for me to make extra coin, and here we are.”

“She never let anyone younger than seventeen be a whore?”

For a moment, you pondered how that was the one thing he got from your nervous ramblings. Still, you decided it wasn’t best to think about it. “She didn’t want men bedding little girls.”

“I suppose it’s different for girls.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was my thirteenth nameday when my brother brought me to Sylvi’s pleasure house.” He said it as if it was common knowledge. “He said I needed to know everything there was about women. Your Madame certainly taught me well. It makes sense I suppose; girls are taught to be more ashamed about it.”

Even with the storm still going outside, the only sound you could hear was the beating of your own heart. “…What?”

You remembered what it was like when you were that age. Your body felt strange, you bled between your legs for the first time, you wanted a husband right away one moment, and then wanted to be a child forever the next. You were good at talking to men who were older than you…but…being intimate? No…and Sylvi had…Sylvi had-?

“Is something wrong?”

If you were delusional, you would say he seemed concerned. Still, if you were to tell him that what Sylvi had done was hypocritical and despicable of her, you would go red in the face with tears, and he would only spit on you and say you wouldn’t understand, and-.

“-Your hair.” You said, having been staring at it whilst your mind rushed. “Has…has it always been curly?”

Aemond scowled, not in scorn, but in puzzlement. It must’ve started to dry as he spent time in the house; it must’ve been frizzy and horrible as well. “Yes.”

You forced a smile. “And here I thought only the ladies of the night burned their hair since men favor it straight.”

“Mothers too.” He sighed when he saw the look you gave him. “It curled more by the time I was fourteen. She had the servants straighten it for me ever since; I believe she hates anything about me that is a reminder that she is my mother.”

“Aemond…”

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve been with her since I was born, it is nothing new and I have-.”

You don’t know why you reached forward and combed a strand of his hair between two of your fingers. Maybe it was because you were still tipsy, or maybe it’s because you just wanted to. He flinched upon your touch, and so did you.

“For-forgive me,” you backed farther up your bed. “I-I forgot myself and I-.”

He brought himself forward, taking both of your hands. Without looking at you, he brought both of them into his hair. Almost like it was second nature, you began to gently run your fingers over his scalp. He shut his eye, his hands traveling to drape along your waste, and he bent his head to rest upon your chest.

It was strange. Strange but nice. You were holding him, but just to have the illusion of you also being cared for…not even your grandmother had done something like this for years.

“I like your hair just how it is.” You whispered after a minute. “If it matters at all.”

He merely hummed, his hand travelling under your shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his finger caress the skin above your wound. Your hands did not still, continuing to comb through his hair softly.

His finger traveled farther up, circling the swell of your breast. You made a noise you hadn’t made before, and you thought you sounded ridiculous. He hummed against your chest, and…

And…

Something between your legs felt like it was beating; like your heart, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m going to touch you there.” He mumbled against the fabric of your shirt. “Alright?”

No, no it wasn’t alright, but it was at the same time.

It wasn’t okay because you’ve only heard stories about this from the girls at the brothel, but it was okay because-because you liked him, and he was-

and you were-

and everything feels warm-

and the way he talked to you-

and the way you-!

“Get off!” You whispered once you heard just the lightest of footsteps outside your door. He listened, backing away quickly to the edge of the bed. An almost silent knock came from your door, and you smiled. “Come in!”

Gigi pushed herself in, holding a tray with two steaming mugs, setting it on the bed. “I’m so sorry, your grace. We do not have tea leaves, so is milk alright?”

Aemond nodded. “It is.”

“How have the both of you been?”

You wore a thin grin. “Fine.”

She nodded, looking in between the two of you. As if she knew what had just taken place, she gave a wry smile and turned to leave. “Well, the rain is dying down now. Let me know if you two need anything else.”

“Thank you, Gigi.” You said without another thought.

She didn’t shut the door when she left. You picked up the mug, took a sip and immediately felt your body heal just a little. Warm milk does numbers on a soul.

“I should take my leave now.” The prince stood up abruptly, dusting himself off.

You tried to stand. “I’ll walk you out.”

The wound at your side burned every inch you moved, and you did a horrible job concealing it. Aemond gently took your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“Rest.” He commanded. “You’re injured, and it’s late.”

“And when have you ever cared?” You teased

“Perhaps just now.” He matched your tone.

“Do you know what I hate?”

“Me? Life itself? Men?”

“Yes, to the last two.” You feel your chest constrict at what you would say next. “I hate that you told Sylvi you would spend time with me because you paid her for…other things previously.”

Aemond tilted his head to the side. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “You…you no longer have to pay for my company. You’ve seen me in turmoil, and I’ve seen you naked.”

He laughed…he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. “Is that what makes us allies?”

“Friends?” You reworded. “You understand the meaning, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” He scoffed.

“So…are we friends now?”

Friends who touch each other in ways they usually don’t.

A hint of a smile spread across his lips. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Friends.”

You dropped your face, hopefully to avoid him seeing how you blushed. The damage was done though. Regaining yourself, you took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And…I’m aware I won’t be the first person you’ll seek if you’re in distress, but please know I will help if you need it.”

“Do not call yourself inadequate.” He shook his head. “I might have some use for you.”

You scoffed. “How considerate of you.”

“Rest now.” He repeated, turning to leave without a proper goodbye.

You sat up. “Wait!” Aemond did not turn to look at you, but he stopped. “Your eye. When you were walking me home, you were in pain. Does it still hurt?”

He was silent. For a moment, you thought it was to come up with a lie, then you assumed it was to find the words to tell you the truth…you had too much faith in him for either.

“It’s late.” He said your name softly and walked out of your bedroom. You heard the front door open then shut.

And there you were, on your bed, alone with an undrunk mug of milk.

The rain had completely stopped.

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #game of thrones #aemond x reader

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jacesvelaryons · 4 months ago

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The Reluctant Empress (Jacaerys Velaryon x Female!Reader)

Act II. Burgeoning

(19th Century Imperial Austria AU)

summary: crown prince jacaerys gets to know his prospect betrothed and future bride whom he has been arranged with to marry, your sister helaena targaryen, but true to your wild spirit, you cannot help but wonder what awaits in the world behind gilded castles and royal splendour.

word count: 2.4k words

a/n: i'm so sorry this took an entire year before an update but it is finally here! i apologize as I had some health things to settle, and with brain fog and got more distracted by other fandoms but here we go! once again, please comment and share what you liked, what you'd want more for me and request and let me know as my inbox is always open <3 let me know if you want to be on the taglist or not getting tags!

series masterlist

previously: prologue | act i

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“Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.” ― William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Seated between her mother and sister, Y/N eyes roamed around the dining hall in the palace that hosted the royal family and her covey. Changed into an emerald green gown, wearing the necklace and earrings her father gave her on the last name day before his passing, she paid no mind to the significance of the occasion and was just glad to be there, surrounded in the splendor of the castle walls.

She knew that it was Helaena’s time to shine, and she would not want to rob her of her light, of the opportunity that would change their fortunes and not have Alicent scrabbling and worrying over the last penny of their expenses.

Twirling her fork on the pesto noodles in front of her, Y/N remained silent and just patiently listened to all the conversation around her, between her mother and her childhood friend the Queen, who inquired about Helaena’s well being, her lifestyle and assessing on how she would adjust becoming the next consort upon wedding Jacaerys.

Dazed out in a world of her own, Y/N did not hear Jacaerys reverting his attention to her aptly, until her sister nudged her ankle with her shoe, repeating her name on his tongue like it was the sweetest honey, curiosity and amusement on his features.

“Lady Y/N, what do you do in your free time, my lady?”

Stammering like a cat bit her tongue, she cleared her throat as she gathered herself and make her look and sound presentable.

“I ride horses, my prince. I hunt and I have picked up the sword a few times.” Lady Y/N bluntly replied, already feeling the burning glare of your embarrassed mother. Queen Rhaenyra only watches in amusement, how her confidante could have a daughter who was nothing like her mother.

Jacaerys was intrigued, leaning forward to hear Y/N better and scooch closer over to Her. A curious smile on his handsome, chiseled face, his curly brown hair starting to grow out and neatly groomed behind his ears.

Plates and utensils remained untouched as Y/N and Jacaerys were engrossed in an engaging, animated conversation, passionate replies to uncontrollable laughter.

The older women present at the table watched with trepidation, Lady Alicent’s habits of digging into her fingernails returned while the silver-haired queen’s expression turned unreadable.

Helaena swallowed her wounded pride of being ignored and not found as an interesting companion, playing with her knife and fork, digging at the roast beef the same way her young daughter would.

As the servants gather the finished main course meals and replace them with fresh fruit and lemon cakes for dessert, Rhaenyra swiftly suggests for the elder Targaryen sister to read out some of the poetry her mother praised earlier.

“You must share with us your talent in verse and poetry, Lady Helaena.”

Relieved, the indigo hued girl stood up at the end of the table, grabbing her little booklet hidden in the pockets of her skirt. Flipping through its parchment pages, she settles to a recent entry close to the end of the worn out leather bound book, covered with an embroidered beetle.

To want is the most natural thing Inherent in the blood through our veins The very primal urge of our being Yet we will always want, and want With no end like a black hole What better to want what is not ours? To covet what the other possesses To take away what is given as easily as it was owned?

Her raspy voice echoed through the halls mellifluously in perfectly rehearsed High Valyrian. Yet you could not help a guilty perception weighing on you, blossoming at the pit of your stomach and you could not shake it off. You were doing nothing wrong, you told yourself, wanting to believe in it but it felt wrong.

Y/N’s fears arose to the surface when she could feel a burning stare on her face intensely, as if memorizing her very form and that she would disappear into nothing anytime. You were listening as intently as you could, yet when you turned, Jacaerys did not pay mind to a single word Helaena said as his focus was fixated on you.

No, no, no. Nothing was going as planned. Everything was going wrong. She praises whatever gods intervened when the heir’s brother Prince Lucerys gracefully diverted the topic into the new cuisines created by the cooks of the Keep with the freshest catches of seafood from Driftmark.

…

“Y/N, what do you think you were doing out there?! Do you think I do not notice your need to always be the centre of attention?” The shrill shrieking of her mother’s voice pierced through her ear drums, yet Y/N was unsurprised and used to such altercations with her mother.

Following the uneasy supper, the three ladies from Dalston Keep returned to their chambers to change midday in preparation for the tour around the gardens with the queen and her heir again after a few hours of respite.

Silently humiliated as they reconvened in private, the illusion of propriety that Lady Alicent carried in front of the queen and prince ripped away, unleashing a ferocity unrestrained like never before.

“I did nothing, mother. I was polite and engaged in a conversation when I was spoken to.”

“You did more than that, you foolish girl! It was about your sister. All of this was about her, not you! Is it so difficult for you to tone down your tendencies for once so we can go according to the arrangement? You put our fortunes up to be desolated. You are as careless as your father!” The sting of her final words hung in the air, salt over the open wound for such a loss. Y/N knew her mother did not love her father, who was older than her own father, and only did her duty to her ailing, troubled, aging husband.

“Mother, that is enough! Do not bring father into this.” Helaena countered exasperatedly, holding onto her sister by her shoulders in defense. “Y/N did nothing wrong. It was..it was me. I should have engaged with the prince more. She did me a favour.”

Y/N gasps in disbelief, astonished her beloved sister would keep taking her side when it was clear she was the wounded party.

“Do not worry about it, mother. I promise I will remain silent from now on. I want this to be Helaena’s night.” Y/N swears sincerely, wanting to defend Helaena and stay away from any trouble from now on.

Alicent does not fully believe her youngest, but nods solemnly as she seeks to move this behind them, returning to her dignified, contemplating gaze with her perfect posture and arms clasped at her waist.

Subsequently, a drove of maids and seamstresses poured in, as Alicent went to her solitary room while the sisters shared a larger room. Each stepped on the raised wooden platform. Taking lush gowns from the closet, they plucked out a rich emerald green gown with fitted sleeves for Helaena.

Meanwhile, a muted seafoam gown was placed on Y/N, as maids scuttered behind her to tighten the corset and laces. Y/N whimpered quietly in discomfort, never finding any gratification in restrictive court dress upheld by centuries of protocol and conduct. It barred her sense of freedom, clipped off her wings from flight and reminded her of a bird in a cage.

Heirloom pieces of emerald silver lined jewelry were given to Helaena, designed to accentuate her beauty and prepare her for her upcoming role and ascent into her duty. As the daylight trickled in through the lace curtains and open windows, she looked like a future queen. A role she was raised to be. Otherworldly and ethereal, while Y/N was grounded to the earth, locks like flames and soil.

Y/N beamed in delight for her older sister, squeezing her hands in reassurance. Helaena reciprocated not as enthusiastically, the nerves still getting to her as her palms were sweating and shaking.

“You have nothing to worry about, Hel. We would not get this far if he did not consider you his bride already.”

“Truly, do you really think so?”

“I do. Without a doubt. You already look the part. It is only the formality left we are waiting for at the ball.”

The elder genuinely chuckled this time in relief, her joy finally meeting her eyes from the comfort and encouragement of her sister.

“Now, all that is left is for you to step into your destiny.”

…

Manicured gardens flourished in the peak of spring, cicadas chirping from the branches of oak trees. Lilies and carnations in hues of apricot and blush, while the outlying paths were paved in blue hydrangeas and violet peonies.

Queen Rhaenyra adorned a lapis lazuli blue gown adorned in gold trimmings and sapphires sewn onto her bodice, matching the stone necklace of the color on her neck and matched her tiara, a reminder of her late mother and former queen.

She pleasantly strolled with a natural confidence, carrying herself with an ease afforded by one who has known privilege and power all her life. Guiding a tour around the Red Keep at the height of its social season, Rhaenyra proudly showed off her domains, and subtly if so, the lands that Helaena would take care of as its hostess after she marries Jacaerys and becomes his queen when the time comes.

Behind her was her eldest Crown Prince Jacaerys, always without a hair or trivet out of place, the picture of perfection that she had groomed since his birth. Dressed more casually in teal with the seahorse emblem on his chest, he honoured his late father Lord Laenor Velaryon, further dispelling any rumours or uncertainty around his paternity.

Although he did not directly resemble his father, he has begun to share features with his paternal grandmother Princess Rhaenys with her Baratheon colouring, and the shape of his nose and chin mirrored her father, who was another Prince of Dragonstone, Prince Aemon the Pale Prince. As rider of Vermax, it was undeniable he was the prince long awaited by the realm, whom millions of hopes and dreams were instilled in.

Standing beside him was Lady Helaena Targaryen, his expected betrothed in everything but formality. Raised with the intention of becoming a princess consort, she was demure, shy, obedient and trusting, exactly what the people of Westeros wanted of their model future queen. Proven in her success of childbearing, onlookers examined her critically on baited breath as they wanted to know who will bear the next generation of Targaryen rulers on the Iron Throne.

Their chaperons trailed behind them, Lady Alicent arm in arm with Lady Y/N, in the same shade of muted green, but her mother had visible symbols of the Faith of the Seven from her necklace, her dark headdress and veil, and on the cuffs on her wrist and belt. Y/N distractedly took in her sights, studying every nook and cranny of the storied palace with eagerness and pursuit.

“This garden still follows the design plan created by Queen Rhaenys the Conqueror herself, yet it was only finished years after her passing in Dorne.”

The queen continued the tour of the keep, while she discreetly eavesdropped on the conversation between her heir and his expected betrothed. The two were engaging pleasantly yet amiably on the surface level, their dialogue not reaching too far. Unaware of a figure parting at the fork and heading another direction.

…

When she is assured she’s clear and no one can find her, Y/N Targaryen smirks victoriously as she heads straight and turns left towards the barn, near the dragonpit, where the horses and grazing animals were located.

On nimble footsteps, through the mud and manure, she makes a run for it as two stableboys turn the corner and miss her, as they forgot to close the stables and she sneaks in.

As the afternoon light trickles in, Y/N looks around curiously, before her attention is caught by this white mare, with its freshly brushed mane and shining horsehair, an anomaly among ebony and hickory. Not wanting to startle the majestic creature, she prances until she’s in front of the horse, hushing and cooing at them as she latches onto the reins.

She holds the mane by her reins, tugging gently as she walks through the barn and the empty backwaters of the ancient castle. It is quiet, with most servants resting for their annual nap and their morning duties finished, so Y/N is able to ride the stallion undiscovered.

The lingering scent of the manure and greenery turns into salty waters of aegean and spruce and the earthy, musty petrichor from the rain on the fir and cedar trees earlier in the morning.

A hint of the cool breeze tingles through her skin, a dress and not proper riding gear in its leathers and furs, but she brushes it off, as King’s Landing in the spring at this time of the year has turned warm and the rain from earlier is long gone.

She rides as far as her companion will allow, until the peripheral view of the Red Keep grows distant from over her shoulder. Y/N stops at the fork of the road before it joins the greater Kingsroad, diverting by the forest with towering trees and fallen logs. Sitting by the foot of a trunk, Y/N pauses for some stillness, her back pressing against the hard trunk as she closes her eyes, before grabbing an apple and vial of water to share with her stallion.

As she and the mare finish the fruit, she stands up to brush off any leaf and dirt on the back of her skirt, about to mount once again before she hears echoes of confrontation growing closer. Y/N has barely begun to leave the forest and return to the artery before she is surrounded by hooded, disheveled men with smug expressions.

Unable to avoid contact, she politely acknowledges them and pulls her cape over her flaming locks before she is stopped from moving in either direction. “Good morrow, sirs.”

She yelps as she’s grabbed by her wrists by the men, struggling to stay on her saddle as the mare turns skittish. “Not so fast, my lady. We need something from ya, and you gotta pay up for our silence. Comes with a price.” The men smirk, distant galloping approaching them.

Y/N yelps as she is knocked off her horse, hitting her head against the rock and all turns into darkness around her. She hears a distant echo of another mount heading her way, furious yelling and clattering swords. Her head throbs, feeling the blood dripping down her nape, as her eyes flutter closed.

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buckets-and-trees · 8 days ago

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Huffily Ever After: A CindereLloyd Story

Chapter One Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 5k Summary: After paying your dues and working hard for a few years, you're finally invited to be part of the delegation Nexus PR is sending to the industries banner international conference. It's the opportunity you've been waiting for to fuel the next steps in your career. Over the coming days, you're eager to take every chance and make every connection you can and not waste a single moment. And it all starts with a pre-conference masquerade...

Content/Warnings: modern Cinderella adaptation, unknown identities (later enemies to lovers), mention of the past death of a parental figure in passing

Notes: Final week of my Countdown to Chris-mas! This is an idea I had a really really really really really really long time ago, but it's just sort of been waiting in the wings and biding its time with my muse. My intention was for this to be a longer fic between 8-10k, but ... when I got to the end of the first night, it was 5k, so ANOTHER CHAPTERED FIC, HERE WE GO! I know nobody asked for yet another WIP from me, but alas. It is what it is.

A/N 2: Credit to @stargazingfangirl18 for title inspiration!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

This wasn’t only your first international conference, it was your first professional conference, period.

For it to be held in Paris was already a dream.

To be on your way to a masquerade at the chateaux of Versailles as a prelude to the conference was nothing short of magical.

Even if it was being sponsored by Hansen Global Digital Industries.

The company was a titan in the industry, both in size and in reputation. While they weren’t your direct competitors - the small firm you worked for was nowhere near the size - they were one of the top and used for benchmarking across the board by many. The Global, Digital, and International in their title basically meant they did everything.

While the masquerade was billed as a social, everyone knew it was also a thinly veiled and prime opportunity for networking that could lead to potential poaching. But since invitations for attendance were extended to everyone registered for the conference, it was more than just Hansen Global who planned to scope out prospects and sharpen their teeth among the masses tonight.

As the taxi wound its way through the streets of Paris and then out of the city, you nervously adjusted your mask. It was an elegant creation of black lace and gold filigree, a last-minute purchase from a boutique near your hotel. You hoped it would be enough to fit in with the crowd of industry elites. You'd spent more than you had wanted on the costume, but reasoned it was an investment. First impressions counted, especially in a crowd like this.

The taxi ahead of you turned a corner, and you caught a glimpse of Gus's laughing face through the window. Your stomach twisted with a pang of envy. In the chaos of trying to get everyone from your firm’s delegation into taxis at the same time, you’d been split from your work best friend Gus and instead landed in the last taxi with the last two people you wanted. Gus, with his easy charm and quick wit, would have made the perfect companion for the nerve-wracking journey to Versailles. Instead, you were wedged in the backseat between Anya and Holly, their silence as thick and suffocating as the heavy perfume they both wore.

Anya stared out the window, her crimson lips pursed in a permanent expression of boredom. Her mask, a stunning creation of peacock feathers and Swarovski crystals, probably cost more than your entire wardrobe - not just what you had on tonight, your entire wardrobe back home. Holly, on your other side, tapped away furiously on her phone, no doubt already networking before you'd even arrived.

The three of you worked together on the same team, and they treated you as an unwanted little step-sister, leaving you to catch most of the work for the projects as the rookie, so you could learn.

And learn, you did. As much as you knew and hated that you were given nearly everything while they did nearly nothing and blatantly shared and stole credit, you didn’t complain. You were no stranger to grinding and working for every scrap and opportunity that you could take. But you also didn’t complain because there was no one to complain to. Your team lead thought Anya and Holly could do no wrong and made it clear she felt put upon that you’d been shifted to her team when the team you had originally been hired to had been dissolved when your lead had been promoted within the company.

You could also put up with Anya and Holly as necessary on this trip because - by some blessed twist of fate - said leader of your team Amilla Tremaine had been unable to attend the conference this year. It was going to be a week without her needling, scrutiny, and constant disapproval.

The closer you got to Versailles, the more your stomach churned with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. You had practiced your elevator pitch countless times in the mirror, rehearsing the finer points of your latest project. But would anyone even care to listen to a newcomer from a small firm?

The taxi pulled up to the grand gates, and you all stepped out into the cool evening air. The château loomed before you, its windows aglow with warm light. Without a word, Holly and Anya immediately linked arms and caught up with some of the others while leaving you behind. A steady stream of masked figures made their way up the steps, their laughter and chatter carried on the breeze.

Then Gus was suddenly next to you, bumping your shoulder with his.

"Ready to make some magic happen?" He grinned, his eyes twinkling behind a mask adorned with silver swirls.

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling some of your tension ease. "As ready as I'll ever be. Though I think I might need a bit of liquid courage first."

"That can be arranged," Gus chuckled, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

Together, you ascended the grand staircase, your heart pounding with each step. The opulence of Versailles was overwhelming, even more breathtaking in person than in any photograph or film. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the sea of masked faces, a kaleidoscope of colors and textures swirling around you.

As you entered the main ballroom, a waiter appeared as if by magic, offering flutes of champagne. You gratefully accepted one, taking a sip to calm your nerves. The champagne was exquisite, far better than anything you'd ever tasted before. You savored the moment, trying to commit every detail to memory.

"So, what's our game plan?" Gus asked, scanning the room. "Should we divide and conquer, or stick together?"

Before you could answer, a tall figure in an elaborate Venetian mask approached. "Excuse me," he said, his accent unmistakably French. "I couldn't help but overhear. Are you two looking to make some connections tonight?"

You and Gus exchanged a quick glance. "We are," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "We're here representing Nexus PR."

The man's eyes lit up with interest. "Ah, Nexus! I've heard good things about your work in emerging markets. I'm Claude Dumont, head of international relations at Hansen Global."

Your heart skipped a beat. Hansen Global? Already? You forced yourself to maintain composure as you shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Dumont.” You introduced yourself and Gus to tis industry titan.

"Enchanté," Claude smiled, his eyes crinkling behind his mask. "I must say, I'm particularly intrigued by your recent campaign in Southeast Asia. The cultural nuances were masterfully handled."

You blinked in surprise. He knew about that? It had been a small project, but one you'd poured your heart into. "Thank you, that means a lot coming from you, sir.”

Claude was known for his keen eye for talent and innovative partnerships. This was exactly the kind of opportunity you'd hoped for, but never expected to actually happen.

“I keep a sharp eye out for just that kind of execution in our industry, especially when it’s happening outside of our company,” he says with a wink. “Now you really must let me steal you two away to my modest corner of this gathering,” he insists.

You and Gus exchanged another quick glance, this time of barely contained excitement. This was an opportunity you couldn't pass up.

"We'd be honored, Monsieur Dumont," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Claude gestured for you to follow him through the glittering crowd. As you weaved your way across the ballroom, you couldn't help but notice Anya and Holly watching from a corner, their eyes narrowing behind their ornate masks. You felt a small surge of satisfaction, quickly followed by a pang of guilt for feeling that way.

Claude's "modest corner" turned out to be a secluded alcove with plush velvet chairs and a stunning view of the gardens. A small group was already gathered there, their masks glinting in the soft lamplight. You recognized a few faces from industry magazines and conferences – these were some of the biggest names in global PR and marketing.

Claude introduced you to a couple of the figures closest to you, and then began to mingle elsewhere, drawn in by others.

After a few minutes, Gus leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't look now, but I think you've caught someone else's attention."

Despite his warning, you couldn't help but glance in the direction he subtly indicated. A tall figure in a striking black and gold mask was observing you from across the room. Even from this distance, you could feel the intensity of their gaze.

"Any idea who that might be?" you whispered to Gus.

He shook his head. "Can't tell, but whoever it is, it looks like they're interested in you."

Your pulse quickened, and you took another sip of champagne. “No need to worry about him when we’re here though,” you replied softly, and then the two of you re-engaged with the people you’re surrounded with.

You tried to focus on the conversation around you, but found your attention continually drawn back to the mysterious figure in black and gold. Their gaze never wavered, and you felt a mixture of intrigue and unease under their scrutiny.

As the night wore on, you found yourself growing more comfortable in this elite circle of what turned out to be a mix of new and seasoned professionals. The initial nervousness had faded, replaced by a heady mix of excitement and confidence. You were holding your own in conversations about global market trends and innovative campaign strategies, even offering insights that were met with nods of approval.

Gus, true to form, was charming everyone within earshot. You couldn't help but smile as you watched him work the room, his easy laugh and quick wit drawing people in like moths to a flame.

After about an hour, you excused yourself to find a bathroom, and on your way back, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turned to find yourself face-to-face with the enigmatic observer. Though he wore a mask covering his full face, his eyes were still visible through the mask's openings, a mesmerizing shade of ice blue that drew you in.

He stood tall and imposing, his presence commanding even in the opulent surroundings of Versailles. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored, the fabric so fine it seemed to absorb the light around it. A single red rose was pinned to his lapel, a vibrant splash of color against the monochrome ensemble.

When he spoke, his voice was a rich baritone that sent a shiver down your spine. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room, and I must insist that you dance with me."

You kept a polite smile on your face, but your eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that so?”

"Forgive me, that came out more presumptuous than it should have. Allow me to rephrase - may I have the honor of a dance?"

Something told you he didn’t care one bit about politeness or if you forgave him or not.

You hesitated, torn between curiosity about this mysterious, cavalier figure and the comfortable circle you’d already broken into for the evening. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm actually in the middle of some important conversations..."

"But isn't this entire evening about making new connections?" he countered smoothly. "You won't regret it."

There was something in his voice, a hint of challenge perhaps, that made you reconsider. Plus, you had to admit, you were intrigued.

"Alright," you conceded, "one dance."

He offered his arm, and you took it, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. As if on cue, the orchestra began to play a slow waltz.

As you began to glide across the dance floor together, you couldn't help but feel a mix of exhilaration and unease. The mysterious man's lead was strong and confident, guiding you effortlessly through the steps of the waltz. His hand on your waist felt both thrilling and dangerous, like touching a live wire.

The man towered over you, his tall frame exuding a commanding presence. His broad shoulders were wrapped in thick muscles that you could feel plainly beneath your hand as it rested on his shoulder. With each turn on the dance floor, you could feel his undeniable strength and power, and it ignited a fire began to smolder within you. He was a force to be reckoned with, and you were unquestionably caught in his alluring grasp.

After a minute of dancing without any conversation, you needed to break the silence, your curiosity too strong and needing to know more about him.

“Aren’t you going to ask my name?” you started, in hopes of getting to learn his.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the p on the end.

You turned your face up to look at him. “Because you already know who I am?” you pressed.

“Nope,” he said again, but with a more pronounced p and a tone of amusement in his voice.

“Then why don’t you want to know who I am?”

“It defeats the point of having a masquerade,” he answered. “Tonight should be an escape from the burden of our names and titles and expectations.” His voice expressed a deeper annoyance as he continued - not at you, but seemingly at the situation. “The conference will be consumed by nothing but that for the rest of the week. Can we not have just this one night of anonymous freedom?”

There was an exhaustion that bled through his words as well. It made you more curious to know who this man was to feel so jaded and desperate to escape his life for one night, but it also made you reel back that curiosity to a point. His words struck a chord you could relate to.

"I suppose there's some truth to that," you admitted.

The pressure not only of the conference, but of your fledgling career, of constantly having to prove yourself, had been weighing heavily on your mind. Had been a relentless driving force for years, especially since your mother died. The idea of a night free from expectations was alluring.

"But how can we make connections if we don't know who we're connecting with?"

"Sometimes the most meaningful connections are formed when we're free from the constraints of our usual identities. Don't you find it liberating?"

As you twirled across the dance floor, you had to admit there would be something freeing about the anonymity. Without the pressure of your name or position, you felt you could be bolder, more daring.

"Fine, I'll play along," you decided, a mischievous glint in your eye. "But only if at some points you’ll answer at least some of my questions."

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Only if I want to. You up for the challenge?”

You wanted to know what company he worked for, maybe even what part of the industry, but you knew he wouldn’t answer questions like that.

“Where did you go to school?” you asked.

“Boring!”

“Can I at least know where you’re from?”

“Nope, too specific.”

You huff.

“Come on, ask me something interesting,” he goads.

You pondered for a moment, trying to think of a question that might intrigue him enough to answer. "Alright, what's your biggest regret?"

He raised an eyebrow behind his mask, clearly not expecting such a personal question. "Ah, now that's more like it," he said, his voice a low rumble. "My biggest regret... is not taking more risks when I was younger."

You felt a small thrill at having gotten him to answer. "What kind of risks?"

He spun you out and then pulled you back in, closer than before. "The kind that make your heart race and your palms sweat. The kind that could change everything."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. "And now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Now?" He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Now I make it a point to take as many calculated risks as I can.”

His words sent a thrill through you, adding more heat to the fire he’d already sparked. You were acutely aware of how close he was, the warmth of his body, the strength in his arms as he guided you across the dance floor.

"And what about you?" he asked, his voice low and intimate. "What's your biggest regret?"

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. It felt too personal, too raw to share with a stranger. But then again, of course he would ask something demanding of a deeper answer. Wasn't that the point of this masked encounter now? Deeper connection but with the anonymity and constraints of only one night.

"I regret not standing up for myself more," you admitted softly. "Always trying to please others, even at my own expense."

He nodded, as if he understood all too well. "And now?" he echoed your earlier follow up.

You took a deep breath, considering your answer. "Now... I'm learning to find my voice. To take up space. To demand what I deserve."

His grip on your waist tightened almost imperceptibly. "Good," he murmured, his approval sending a shiver down your spine. "The world has no use for those who shrink themselves."

You were both quiet for a beat then, but it wasn’t awkward.

"The necklace you're wearing," he said after another moment, his eyes dropping to your collarbone. "It's quite striking."

You felt a flush creep up your neck, suddenly self-conscious. The small round diamond on its simple chain seemed woefully inadequate in the opulence of Versailles, among the glittering jewels adorning the necks of some of the other attendees. You'd debated whether to wear it tonight, knowing it might look out of place at such a grand affair. “You don’t have to say that, it’s not much, especially for an event like this.”

He shook his head, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours. "No, it's perfect precisely because it's not ostentatious. It speaks of history, of sentiment. I'd wager it means far more to you than any gaudy bauble could."

You were taken aback by his perception. “It’s… yes. It belonged to my gram who passed it on to my mom, and then to me. Gram said it would always bring good luck.”

His eyes softened behind the mask. "And has it? Brought you good luck?"

"I'd say it has," you replied with a small smile. “More good than bad, at least.” You built everything in your life on hard work, but your mother had always reminded you that hard work would sometimes be rewarded with the blessing of luck.

"Then it's doing its job," he said, his voice warm. "And it suits you."

You felt a rush of warmth at his words, touched by his insight and unexpected kindness.

As you continued to dance, the conversation flowed more freely. You discussed favorite books, debated the merits of various cuisines, and shared anecdotes from growing up. All the while, you were acutely aware of his presence, the strength in his arms, the intensity of his gaze behind that striking mask.

You didn’t realize you had danced so long until the orchestra paused to take a break. The absence of music brought you back to reality, and you moved away from the man who was only a partial stranger now. He’d released his hold from your waist, but he kept hold of your hand.

“Let’s go walk in the gardens,” he said.

You hesitated, glancing back towards the alcove where you'd left Gus and your newfound industry connections. "I should probably get back..."

"Aw, come on," he challenged, his voice low and persuasive. "The gardens of Versailles are breathtaking at night. It would be a shame to miss them."

You bit your lip, torn between duty and desire. The responsible part of you knew you should return to networking, to making the most of this rare opportunity. But another part of you, a part that had been dormant for far too long, yearned for adventure.

"Alright," you conceded, "but only for a little while."

Wasting no time, he led you towards the grand doors that opened onto the gardens. As you stepped outside, the cool night air caressed your skin, a welcome respite from the warmth of the ballroom. The gardens of Versailles stretched out before you, a labyrinth of manicured hedges and marble statues bathed in moonlight.

As you walked, your companion kept hold of your hand, his touch sending sparks through your body. The two of you dove easily back into conversation once more - the unconventional step away from the standard getting-to-know-yous and venturing through more things that mattered but that you rarely talked about with anyone.

"What do you think is the key to success?" you asked, curious about his perspective.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that reverberated through you. "Adaptability," he answered without hesitation. "The ability to change course quickly, to see opportunities where others see obstacles. And a bit of ruthlessness doesn't hurt either."

You raised an eyebrow. "Ruthlessness? That’s intense."

He shrugged, his shoulders moving elegantly under his tailored jacket. "The business world isn't for the faint of heart. Sometimes you have to make tough decisions, put your own interests first."

His words made you pause. They reminded you of the cutthroat atmosphere at your own firm, the way Anya and Holly seemed to thrive on competition and backstabbing. You'd always tried to rise above it, to succeed on your own merits without stepping on others. But sometimes you wondered if that approach was naive.

"And what about integrity?" you challenged. "Doesn't that count for something?"

He turned to face you, his eyes glinting behind his mask. "Integrity is admirable, but it won't always get you where you want to go. Sometimes you have to play the game to change it."

You frowned, not entirely convinced. "But at what cost? Doesn't it hollow out your success if you compromise your values to achieve it?"

He leaned in closer, his voice low and intense. "The world isn't black and white, my dear. Sometimes the ends justify the means. And sometimes, those who play by the rules get left behind."

His words sent a chill down your spine.

There was a hard edge to his voice that hadn't been there before, a glimpse of something darker beneath the charm and mystery.

"I don't believe that," you said firmly. "There's always a way to succeed without sacrificing your principles. It might be harder, it might take longer, but it's possible."

He studied you for a long moment, his head tilted slightly. "You're idealistic," he said finally. "It's... refreshing. But I wonder how long you can hold onto that idealism in this industry."

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze squarely. “I can’t abandon it. Ever.”

Even though you could not agree with him, there was something intoxicating about his confidence, his unapologetic pursuit of success.

You expected him to scoff or look at you as if you were perhaps a little less. But he only nodded, a pensive look remaining in his eyes, and then began to walk again, pulling you along to fall in step beside him.

"And what is it that you want?" he asked, his voice low and intimate.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the direction of his question. It was simple, but exposed you in a new way.

The question hung in the air between you, loaded with possibility. The intensity of the moment made your heart race.

"What I want..." you began, your voice softer than you intended. "I want to make a difference. To create campaigns that actually mean something, that have a positive impact on the world, not just make money for businesses."

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Admirable," he said, his tone unreadable. "And what do you want for yourself?"

What did you want for yourself? You'd been so focused on proving yourself, on climbing the ladder, on trying to make your father proud after all his own sacrifices to help put you through school, that you'd barely stopped to consider your own desires.

"I want to be recognized for my work. To be valued. To not have to fight for every scrap of credit or opportunity."

"Ah," he murmured, his voice tinged with understanding. His grip on your hand tightened slightly. "You're tired of being overlooked, of others taking credit for your hard work." His thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand. "I can relate to that feeling all too well."

You looked up at him, surprised by the hint of vulnerability in his voice. "You? But you seem so confident, so in control."

He chuckled, but there was a bitter edge to it. "Appearances can be deceiving, especially in our world. I've had my fair share of battles to get where I am."

As you walked deeper into the gardens, the sounds of the party faded away, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant trickle of fountains.

"And is that all you want?" he pressed, his voice low and smooth. "There’s gotta be something more that you want."

He stopped walking to turn to look at you. You felt a blush creep up your neck, grateful for the mask that hid part of your face. There was something in his tone, in the intensity of his gaze, that made you think he wasn't just talking about professional aspirations anymore.

"I want to feel alive," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "To experience passion and adventure. To take risks without fear of failure."

He stepped closer, closing the already small distance between you. "And what's stopping you?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "I don't know," you said honestly.

His free hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. "Maybe…”

Your phone buzzed in the pocket of your dress, and you gave a slight jump, breaking away from this man and the too-intense moment.

“Sorry,” you said.

“It’s fine,” he replied.

Your hand shot into the folds of your dress, and you pulled out the phone. It was a message from Gus, asking where you’d disappeared to. Your eyes flicked to the top corner, gasping when you saw what time it was - 11:47pm. You shot off a quick reply go Gus, even as your eyes flitted back up to the stranger. “I completely lost track of time! I have to get back before my group leaves without me.”

"No, of course," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment. "I suppose our little escape couldn't last forever."

You hesitated, torn between the desire to stay and the practical need to leave. "I should go," you said reluctantly.

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I’ll walk you back.”

Though he didn’t reach for your hand again, the walk back up to the castle was companionable enough, even if the conversation did taper off significantly. You imagined he must be feeling the spell of tonight’s escape dissipating as much as you.

It didn’t take long to walk back to the castle, but he stopped again once you were close and tugged you to face him.

“You could stay,” he said, “get a ride back with me.”

Your heart stuttered.

You wanted to.

But you couldn’t.

You didn’t want to say no though.

So instead, you said, “I don’t know. I can’t imagine disclosing something as pedestrian as which hotel I’m staying at,” calling back to the stubborn beginning of your true conversation, and by the time you’d finished, your face had split into an impish grin.

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling behind his mask. "Let me guess - the headquarter hotel for the conference, right?"

You nodded, pretending to be impressed by his deduction. "You got me. But that's all you're prying out of me, mystery man."

He laughed again, the warm sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I suppose I must concede defeat this time. But before you go..." He paused, his eyes searching yours behind his mask. "Will you do one thing for me?"

You hesitated, curiosity warring with caution. "What?"

"Close your eyes," he said softly. "Just for a moment."

You hesitated for a moment, torn between caution and curiosity. But something in his voice, in the way he'd looked at you all night, made you trust him. Slowly, you let your eyelids flutter shut.

You heard a rustle of fabric, then felt his warm breath on your face. One of his large hands, strong yet gentle, cupped your cheek. The scent of his cologne enveloped you – notes of sandalwood and something spicy you couldn't quite place.

Then his lips were on yours, insistent, hungry. The kiss was electric, sending sparks coursing through your body. His mouth moved against yours with a passion that left you breathless, his hand sliding to the nape of your neck to pull you closer. You melted into him, your hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as if to anchor yourself in this moment.

The world around you faded away - the sounds of the party, the cool night air, the scent of roses in the garden - all of it disappeared, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours, his strong arms around you. You felt dizzy, intoxicated by his touch, by the passion that radiated between you.

The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips until you parted them with a soft gasp. He tasted of champagne and something darker, more intoxicating. His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, the solid planes of his chest pressed against you. A small moan escaped your throat, swallowed by his eager mouth.

Just as you felt yourself getting lost in the kiss, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and dazed.

“Goodnight, Cinderella,” he murmured against your lips, then turned and swept away before your eyes fluttered open, only allowing you to see the back of him as he disappeared.

Though he had removed his mask to kiss you, you had never seen even a hint of his face, only his fierce blue eyes.

next chapter: Day One of the Conference

Shall we go with Monday updates for this one, my friends?

And what do you think? Are we ready for this asshole to be some kind of prince charming? Can he be? 🤭

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I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #chris evans characters #countdown to chris-mas #aspen wrote something #huffily ever after

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apoloadonisandnarcissus · 2 months ago

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Let’s Talk Galadriel Heartbreak in Season 2

Am I the only one who thinks her whole vibe about “Halbrand is Sauron” in Season 2 was way too over the top for the interactions we were shown back in Season 1 and for something merely platonic?

First, we can’t analyze Galadriel and Halbrand’s interactions with “shipper goggles” on. We have to be unbiased, here. And the truth is: we have enormous plot holes, and many things that just don’t add up. This makes us wonder/theorize what happened off-screen between Galadriel and Halbrand back in Season 1.

Not to upset my fellow shippers (you know how passionate I am about Galadriel x Sauron to the point I was accused of being delusional), but we didn’t see any interaction between Galadriel and Halbrand in Season 1 that could explain the seven stages of grief that Galadriel went through in Season 2.

They flirted, shared stares and the “I’ve felt it too” scene, and then Halbrand was revealed to be Sauron. And that’s it. We saw him as friends, basically. The argument that “Elves feel everything more deeply” is kind of weak when we look at the full picture.

Galadriel behavior in Season 2 wasn’t “I fell in love with him and he lied”. Like at all. We saw her heartbroken, angry, desperate and tormented by her memories of Halbrand, and by being deceived. It was personal but was no longer about getting revenge for her brother’s death; she wanted revenge because she got played.

1) Galadriel tried, at all costs, to keep Halbrand’s true identity hidden from everyone else

First, she allowed the Three Elven rings of power to be made. She tells Celebrimbor not to deal with Halbrand anymore, but provides no explanation (endangering him in the process). And clearly Celebrimbor himself doesn’t take her warning seriously, because he allows Halbrand to return to Eregion forge.

Then, she literally hunted down Elrond all the way back to Lindon. Why? Probably because she didn’t want Gil-galad and Elrond himself to find out that Halbrand was actually Sauron. And the question here is: why?

Was it only because she was humiliated and her pride was wounded for not “being strong enough” and allowed herself to be deceived (like she tells Celebrimbor in 2x07)? Or is there another reason for this behavior? Because we did see Galadriel lying left and right in Season 2, to hide the truth of her connection to Sauron. He promised you an army? Not even Adar believed that.

Besides, Sauron is known as “the great deceiver”, after all. Gil-galad is pissed but he doesn’t hold it against Galadriel, too much. I think he’s more upset by her disobeying his order to return to Valinor than anything else. Sure he doesn’t allow her to command the mission to Eregion, but he is concerned she might be susceptible to deception, again, after all. And that’s the reason why he appointed Elrond as the commander. No one holds Celebrimbor accountable because he got deceived by Sauron. So; what does Galadriel have to hide?

2) Galadriel was obsessed in meeting and fighting Sauron alone

This was Galadriel’s main drive in Season 2: find Sauron and kill him. All by herself. She bitterly joins Elrond & co, but goes rogue when she gets the chance.

However, she is worried about what may happened if she does meet Sauron alone, but that fear doesn’t stop her, anyway. Which makes me ask, again: why? What does she have to hide?

3) Galadriel and Adar: the meeting of the exes

Galadriel is unwilling to face Sauron alongside her Elf companions. However, she is prepared to do it alongside Adar, in 2x08. Which is interesting, because Adar himself was also played by Sauron, his revenge is also personal, and they already overshared with each other in 2x06.

Adar and Galadriel share a mutual understanding of Sauron and his seductive ways. In a way, Adar is the only character with whom Galadriel can relate in this matter. And that’s probably why she’s willing to actually join him to destroy Sauron.

Galadriel and Adar's “wine and dine” in 2x06 was, pretty much, them being the bitter exes crying at each other’s shoulder because they got played by the same fuckboy (Sauron). That was the subtext of that scene. Adar was clearly in love with Sauron, too.

This makes me wonder: why is Galadriel saying life without Halbrand has been a “dull gray”, exactly? Because, back in Season 1, Halbrand was always pretty moody and angsty, except when he was at the forges working (both in Númenor and Eregion, with Celebrimbor). Him smithing was the happiest we saw him, then.

4) Galadriel's reactions in her fight with Sauron

When Sauron arrives and says her name, Galadriel is absolutely terrified. To the point she actually freezes on the spot and is unable to move. Why? We know she’s not afraid of Sauron, come on. She is so scared because she’s afraid he might still be on Halbrand form. And she doesn’t know how she would react to that.

Luckily for her, he isn’t. He is on Annatar form, and she doesn’t have a connection to it. Still, she’s only able to attack him when he had his back turn on her, and she is not able to see his face, anymore.

This point is made clear when Sauron shapeshifts into Halbrand, and she’s unable to continue the fight:

This is clearly a reaction of “oh, look, the friend I was in love with platonically”. That’s why she’s crying, and hurt and with this look of betrayal on her face, I guess.

Does Elrond know something we don’t?

Elrond was at Eregion the entire time, and he was the one who found Galadriel on the Glanduin, and she's a wreck:

Elrond later finds the scroll with the Southlands bloodline and puts two and two together (Halbrand lied about his identity), however, it was only in 2x01 that he discovers that he was actually Sauron in disguise, when Galadriel is forced to reveal it to him, and to Gil-galad.

And his first reaction is odd: “How could you?” And he’s pissed. Not “Gil-galad pissed”. But actually, outraged by the whole thing, which again, is strange because Sauron is the “great deceiver”, after all. Everyone knows this: Sauron deceives, that’s his deal. Why is Elrond so vexed at Galadriel?

And he’ll keep on rubbing it on her face, throughout the first episodes of Season 2, and all of this seems to have some sort of double meaning:

Galadriel: Sauron used me. And under his hand, I was played like a harp to a melody not of my choosing. Elrond: It was entirely of your choosing. Sauron looked inside you, plucked the very song of your soul, note by note, making himself out to be exactly what you needed. "The Lost King" who could ride you to victory. You gave him everything he wanted and then thanked him for it. Rings of Power, 2x02

How did Galadriel “thank” Sauron for giving her everything he wanted? What does this mean? What does Elrond know?

When did Galadriel ever “let Sauron in”, exactly? Because in Season 1 they were merely friends and she resisted his offer at the end. Because she “felt it too”? But we didn’t see her acting on feelings, right? So this doesn’t make any sense.

I know many in our fandom have this headcanon of a kiss (or more) happening in Númenor, but I don’t think so. If any kissing happened off-screen it had to be after the “I’ve felt it too” scene, and not before. This leaves their time together in Eregion as the only possible option, here.

We don’t know for how long Galadriel and Halbrand were there together in Eregion; only that Gil-galad gave Celebrimbor “three weeks” to test his theory (craft an object that could save the Elves on Middle-earth), and that Sauron worked there “for weeks” (according to Elrond in 2x01).

The only argument against this possibility is that Galadriel started to suspect Halbrand could be Sauron. Which leads me to the next point:

The Halbrand = Sauron reveal in 1x08

Everyone assumes that Galadriel starts to suspect that Halbrand might be Sauron in disguise after she hears Celebrimbor saying “a power over flesh”. But is this true?

The episode itself framed it this way because they wanted to build up the big “he is Sauron” reveal, however we have clues in the episode itself that contradict this. Namely how shocked Galadriel was when Halbrand revealed to be Sauron himself.

She was in denial when Halbrand said “I told you I found it on a dead man.”, and tried to racionalize everything that went down between them, like him saving her on the raft, him fighting beside her against Adar, etc. She couldn’t bring herself to believe it, at first. Odd if she was so certain he was Sauron all along.

Galadriel started to suspect Halbrand was hiding his true identity (he might not be the heir to the throne of the Southlands) and that he could have a hidden motive in Eregion, yes. But why does this immediately equals her suspecting him to be Sauron in “fair form”, exactly?

Sauron is ancient and known for being a powerful sorcerer, cunning and cruel, yes. But he was also Morgoth’s chief lieutenant and sucessor, and Galadriel herself believed he was still out there, gathering strength, and followers to raise to power, again. Would Galadriel actually believe that a powerful and mighty being (super villain level) like Sauron would ever present himself as a mere “low man” (heir to a throne or not)? I don’t think so. Sauron is way too vain and arrogant to allow himself to be humiliated at every turn, and this could have been Galadriel’s way of thinking, as well.

My interpretation is that Galadriel suspected that Halbrand could be a Sauron loyalist (like Waldreg), and even working for Sauron (double agent), and not that he was Sauron himself. Why?

1) Sauron is Morgoth’s sucessor, and the Southlanders made blood oaths to Morgoth in the past.

This would make sense with the entire Southlands plot in Season 1, actually; we’ve seen how the Elves were so against the Southlanders because they sided with Morgoth, that they had to keep an eye on them for centuries. We saw this in Arondir scenes from 1x01: But the Men who live here have not [changed]. The blood of those who stood with Morgoth still darkens their veins.

2) Everyone loves to bring up Galadriel’s pride and royal lineage except in this case. Deep down Galadriel could have a intuition that “Halbrand = Sauron”, but I don’t think her pride would allow her to believe she had romantic feelings for Sauron himself (at that point), and she had two-three weeks time to racionalize her options. Besides, this was her main conflict in Season 2, not in 1x08.

This would also make sense with what Elrond said in 2x01:

However, and even if she had her suspicions, she also had time to brush it off, especially because she was in love with him. In 1x06, Halbrand shows up when Galadriel is about to kill Adar. This was after the scene where Adar talks about Sauron’s plans of “a power over flesh”. Meaning: Halbrand was nearby and could overheard Adar saying it. Maybe he talked about it with Celebrimbor for some reason. When people are trying to cope with unpleasant truths and are in denial, they come up with every sort of weird excuses.

This would also make sense with her scene with Celebrimbor in 2x07:

Galadriel is agreeing with everything Celebrimbor is saying here. “I blinded myself to what he was”. When did Galadriel “blinded” herself to what Halbrand was? Because this scene connects with Elrond’s in 2x01 (“you were blind”). The whole “King of the Southlands” plot was Galadriel’s idea, in the first place, and Halbrand reluctantly agreed to it: so that’s not the “being blind” bit. Again, a lot doesn’t add up here.

Galadriel could only have, truly, blinded herself to what Halbrand was while they were at Eregion, and she started to suspect him.

And this line makes Galadriel extremely angry and explosive:

What is Sauron talking about here, exactly? The power of his gaze? Their stare competition? Because that’s all we saw back in Season 1.

“The door is shut” is Galadriel saying: “f*ck you, you lying piece of sh*t, scumbag! You used me and deceived me (“Sauron used me. And under his hand, I was played like a harp to a melody not of my choosing.”)!”

Are you familiar with Fleetwood Mac hit song “Dreams”? “Players only love you when they're playing”? Yeah, that’s the vibe I’m getting from this scene.

In short: there is no way all of this is because “Elves emotions are very strong”, or Haladriel was platonic, or the interactions we saw in Season 1 was all that happened between Galadriel and Halbrand/Sauron. Something physical (a kiss or else) did happened between these two off-screen: that’s the only rational explanation for all of this.

#saurondriel #haladriel #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x halbrand #galadriel x sauron

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mercurialmalcontent · 12 days ago

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A few days ago I saw someone say in the comments of a post something like Baldur's Gate 3 doesn't have themes. I disagree; while its themes are mainly reinforced through individual major character stories and it's all warpped in the series premise of "if the god of Murder had a bunch of kids, would that be fucked up or what?", they are there.

The main one that comes to mind is a question -- can you find a way to be better than what your circumstances (often generational trauma) made you, or will you continue down the path they set?

We see this in all of the main companions. In Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel's questlines they face the choice to break a cycle of abuse and escape the lies of their past, or contiue with them for the promise of power and safety. Gale can choose to shed his hubris and accept himself as a person, or give into it and become a god, and thus the one thing he thinks he's good for -- his magic.

It's weaker for Wyll and unfortunately truncated, mostly cumulating in the choice to live for himself or stay shackled to Mizora, with the final touch of what he'll do with his life only happening if you do a mostly unrelated to him quest. Karlach's story fits but in a pretty convoluted way -- she's terminally ill and her most obvious attempt break free of the circumstances (killing the initial architect of her suffering) does nothing; escaping that road requires choices that either isolate her or turn her into something alien.

Anyway, moving on to the main antagonists. They display what happens if one doesn't choose to become better than their circumstances. Kethric has a hundred years of sunk cost fallacy and can only be persuaded to stop, not change course. Gortash has a desperation for control that can only get him killed. Orin is desperate for love and approval from a man who did monstrous things to her, and she breaks if you tell her the truth.

(The Emperor… doesn't really fit this, but whatever.)

This theme isn't really subtle, but it isn't necessarily well-reinforced by a story that has a ton of other stuff going on. It doesn't help that you can play as Just Some Guy who got wrapped up in the whole thing by pure circumstance (Tav, everyone except for arguably Shadowheart and Lae'zel), and that's what a lot of people go for. It is, however, extremely fucking obvious if you play what would have been the sole main character in a game set up like the previous installments -- The Dark Urge.

I figure Larian made the decision to allow for playing as someone unattached to the Bhaalspawn baggage because that seems to be their Thing in their other games, but it's also because The Dark Urge's content is pretty damn disturbing to a level that puts a lot of people off. It's much more graphic than in the previous games, and it's set -- that The Dark Urge did extremely gruesome shit in their past is an unescapable truth and integral to their story.

However, players who choose not to see that route end up not getting the major theme paraded in front of them and lit up with a big flashing marquee. They get some of it if they play as a companion, much less if they play as a Tav who is inherently a victim of circumstance and only has the baggage the player chooses to bring with them, but it is there in full force as a foundational premise of The Dark Urge's story, as foundational as The Dark Urge themself is to the the whole plot.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 meta #bg3 spoilers #I bet you thought I was bored of this game!#I'm not I'm just chronically low on drive space

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drakorn · 29 days ago

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Rewriting Veilguard Part 2 - The Shadow Dragons

Rewriting Veilguard Part 1 - The World State

Disclaimer: I don't hate the game, I actually think it's quite great given the development hell Bioware went through in those 10 years. This is more of a hypothetical universe where there was less of that behind the scenes drama. Just a fun writing exercise.

Writing an Origin Story Mission for the Shadow Dragons

Now that we have dealt with our World State, it’s time to pick Rook’s background. When I first learned that there would be six factions to choose from, I was honestly very ecstatic. You’re telling me we’re getting six different origin stories for Rook? Did BioWare finally listen to the fans’ wish to get one more game with DAO-style prologue missions before the big main plot begins? Then I learned that six of the companions you meet would represent one of those respective factions, and I was like “Amazing, so you will definitely have one party member with whom you can at least align interests and goals from the start.”

What we ended up getting was…sort of something in the middle. Your backstory is brought up and you get quite a lot of unique dialogue regarding your faction. If you’re a Shadow Dragon, there’s a lot of Minrathous dialogue tailored to you specifically. If you’re a Grey Warden, you’re having an absolute field day whenever the Blight is involved, which is…a huge chunk of the game.

But there was…something missing for me. You see, when we start the game, we’re immediately thrown into this epic mission where Rook, Varric, and Harding find Neve and race to stop Solas. It feels very much like we’re starting somewhere in the middle rather than at the beginning. And that, in my humble opinion, is due to the lack of a unique origin story that you can actually play through. So, here’s what the next few parts of this hypothetical rewrite of Veilguard will focus on: creating six unique playable origin stories that would very much be doable without the vampiric leech known as “development hell” hovering over you. This post will focus solely on the Shadow Dragon origin story, so stay tuned for the others. I’m aware of how long it might take between posts, but I want to make sure I do this the right way.

Creating Rook

We start the game, which immediately kicks off Varric’s opening narration. But instead of Varric talking about Solas immediately, we’re gonna set the stage for the general state of Northern Thedas: with the South experiencing a few years of relative peace, the North is a wholly different story: Tevinter and the Qunari have engaged in a bloody and brutal all-out war, the Grey Wardens are growing more reclusive, strange reality warping occurs in Arlathan Forest, a part of the Antaam broke off and is now occupying Antiva and Rivain, strange whispers arise from the Grand Necropolis, basically, everything is in chaos. But Varric is certain that one person is the key to all this. Cue the distant howling of a wolf and six red eyes. Cut to black.

Now we get to customise Rook and choose our faction. As the title of this post suggests, we’re taking the Shadow Dragon route. The backstory text, however, is going to be different to the one we get in DAV. You see, when reading through those backstories, I got the feeling that all of them sounded like outlines for what could have been the origin story quest. I am actually 100% confident that BioWare planned on including prologue missions at one point but had to scrap them due to development hell reasons. And all of the six summaries essentially boil down to “you upset some higher authority and now your faction wants you out of the spotlight.” All the choices regarding Rook’s personality have already been made for us. Playing this actual backstory allows us to roleplay in a roleplaying game, which…shocking, I know, but here me out. Instead, the origin text we get when we click on the Shadow Dragons is simply going to be:

“You are a Shadow Dragon. This underground resistance opposes corrupt rulers and slavery in Tevinter. Coming from all walks of life, they are determined to bring justice to the people. As a member of House Mercar, a renowned Soporati family renowned on the battlefield against the Antaam, you have much influence to bring, and much to lose.”

That’s just the small little snippet we see when hovering over the option. But that’s all we’re gonna get for now. There is no mention yet of Rook’s personality as we’ll get to shape it ourselves a little bit. So, we customise our Rook, finalise our massive World State, and click on the play button at last.

Varric’s narration continues, just like in DAV, but this time, he’s going to give us our chosen faction’s backstory. We get a recap on how Dorian and Maevaris founded the Lucerni shortly after the war with Corypheus and how much of a ray of hope this group was in the twisted and corrupt society of the Tevinter Imperium. But then, some of the more powerful magisters began to heavily push against them, eventually leading to Maevaris being framed for treason and losing her seat in the Magisterium. She took all the blame on herself so that Dorian would be able to retain a spotless reputation and continue their work on the great political stage. Maevaris took the remaining Lucerni underground and formed the Shadow Dragons, continuing their work under a different name. Now unbound by political restrictions, the Shadow Dragons are free to take more radical measures in their fight against oppression and slavery. And Varric is confident that the perfect candidate to go against the bigger threat can be found in this group.

The Shadow Lair

Our story begins in Minrathous, in the underground base of the Shadow Dragons. And right off the bat, we’re making a change regarding said base’s location. In DAV, it stands in a random building somewhere in Dock Town that pretty much anyone could access. I get that they were probably going for the “hide in plain sight” approach, but let’s actually have some fun here.

In this rewrite, the Shadow Dragons are literally operating from the underground. Now, Minrathous’ underground system has two things that are very beneficial for a secretive rebellious organisation:

Vast catacombs. The catacombs of Minrathous are so massive that they can store food to survive years of siege. Minrathous, like so many cities and settlements in Tevinter, is built on the bones of Elvhenan. You can easily get lost in those catacombs.

Gigantic sewers. The sewers are arguably even more treacherous than the catacombs, because we have seen in Tevinter Nights what can lurk there. Imagine the sewers of the greatest city in the world, the greatest magical city in the world. Surely it comes with its own set of urban legends akin to the sewer gator. But in a city like Minrathous, those legends are probably true. Failed magical experiments, lyrium-infused mutations, abominations of former mages who failed some twisted blood magic experiment, possessed objects; all this can be found in Minrathous’ sewers. Dangerous for everyone, and therefore perfect for the Shadow Dragons.

The Shadow Dragons operate from a place called "The Shadow Lair”, a section of an underground district known simply as “The Undercity”. That’s where all the poor and forgotten retreat if they wish to disappear from the world, or criminals who flee the Imperium’s justice system. A dangerous but also perfect place.

NOTE: For the duration of the prologue, Rook will be referred to by the name of Mercar, as “Rook” is the name they give themselves after disappearing from the scene.

Depending on what race Mercar is, the stakes vary:

If Mercar is a human, they are the direct heir of House Mercar, destined to take over the family name one day. If Mercar is a human mage, they are currently in the process of getting their family appointed to Laetan status, which will give them more political power and influence.

If Mercar is a dwarf, they are an adopted scion of House Mercar.

If Mercar is an elf or a qunari, they are an official slave of House Mercar, but it’s made pretty clear in the beginning that House Mercar’s slaves are slaves in name only, while actually being more akin to paid servants. House Mercar simply refers to them as slaves to stay under the Magisterium’s radar and actually uses them to pass on information to the Shadow Dragons.

I was personally disappointed that DAV didn’t really touch on Tevinter’s slavery system. It felt a bit like I was treated with kid gloves and not given the trust to being able to handle dark topics. But Tevinter, as has been established in all DA media before DAV, is a pretty dark place for anyone who isn’t a human mage. And it’s important to depict that as it shows the stakes and just how rotten of a society the Imperium is. We need to see what the Shadow Dragons are actually fighting for. It’s not enough to just tell us how much a freedom fighter group we are, no, we need to see it.

Meeting the Leaders of the Shadow Dragons

For the sake of this playthrough, our Mercar is going to be a human mage, and thus not only the direct heir to the house but also one who can elevate it to Laetan status. We have a lot to lose, so we must be extra careful in this precarious situation.

So Mercar meets with the leaders of the Shadow Dragons, namely Maevaris and the Viper. From this conversation, we get the general gist of what’s about to happen and why we are here: House Mercar decided to get a bit more involved with the Shadow Dragons after both parties discovered a massive plot for something big involving Minrathous’ vast slave population. Whatever it is, it’s happening somewhere in Dock Town, and we are to rendezvous with Neve Gallus, a local and renowned detective, to get to the bottom of this.

Exploring the Shadow Lair

After the conversation, we get to have a quick look around the Shadow Lair, where we can instigate a small series of encounters:

We can talk to Maevaris some more and learn about her past and her motivation behind what used to be the Lucerni.

We can talk to the Viper and learn more about him, how he’s usually running operations and that he’s from an Altus house. But that’s about everything you can learn about him at this point in time.

We can meet Lorelei and learn about her being one of the city elves Loghain sold to Tevinter all the way back in DAO. She will give a few remarks on how the Hero of Ferelden dealt with the Alienage and how she and Alistair made it a more just place.

NOTE: For this rewrite’s hypothetical playthrough, the Hero of Ferelden is a Human Noble who romanced Alistair and became Queen of Ferelden. She is now searching for a cure for the Calling.

We can have a bit of a look at the Undercity and just see how much of a poor and dark place it is. This is the gutter, no, this is below the gutter. The people here wish to disappear. They are miserable, most of them have given up hope. The Shadow Dragons are the only ones who actually care about them.

Since the Undercity is below modern Minrathous, we can see traces of ancient elven architecture on display, including mosaics and frescoes.

An Old Friend

Just as we’re about to leave for Dock Town, a familiar face strides into the Shadow Lair: Varric Tethras. Yes, we actually get to see Rook’s first meeting with Varric here! Maevaris greets and introduces him to us (and we actually get to know that Varric and Maevaris are family, which DAV kind of glossed over, thank you very much). Mercar gets to have a first chat with Varric, where he assess our personality. This vibe check is what allows us to determine Rook’s general personality: are we diplomatic, humorous, or aggressive? I fully get that Varric wouldn’t pick an evil person to fight against Solas, but we should still have some kind of roleplay room regarding Rook’s way of thinking and speaking.

Varric’s purpose in these prologues is very similar to Duncan’s in DAO. He’s the one who recruits you into the larger fight and acts as a mentor figure for a while. I was actually fully expecting that to be the case in the actual game when we were told that Varric recruits Rook into the fight against Solas. Well, he did, but I would have liked to see it! Alas, we shall do so here!

Varric stays behind in the Shadow Lair while we go off and do our thing.

Entering Dock Town

Dock Town is pretty much right above the Undercity, the gutter above the actual gutter. The entrance to the Shadow Lair is quite hidden with enchantments, known only to Shadow Dragons and their associates.

Dock Town is going to stay pretty much exactly as we see it in the game. If there is one place in Minrathous where everyone could mingle without being necessarily immediately prosecuted, it’s that place (which is probably why that’s the only part of Minrathous we see in the game, but I digress). However, there will be one major change: slavery is still a thing.

Dock Town is…well…a place where ships dock. That includes ships of slave traders and prisoners of war. In this rewrite, Tevinter is still locked into a war with the Qunari, so there will be a lot of that reflected in the environment. As we walk through Dock Town, we see guards on high alert, slaves and prisoners being led away in chains. We’re doing some important environmental storytelling here that lets us know exactly why Tevinter is a place that needs to be liberated and changed so desperately.

Meeting Neve Gallus

We find Neve Gallus at the Cobbled Swan. Depending on dialogue choices, we might or might not have heard of her up to this point. I think it would be fun if Mercar could geek out about her because he read some sensationalist tabloid about one of her cases.

So Neve tells us that a huge part of Dock Town was closed off for a great event, a former small coliseum that hasn’t been used in decades. Coincidentally, several unpurchased slaves and prisoners of war are being dragged into that area.

Neve has a good lead to assume that the Venatori are somehow behind this because of course they are. Neve gives us a recap on what the Venatori are and how she had multiple run-ins with them already. She is to be absolutely certain that Mercar can be trusted as they will need to work together on this. In response, Mercar shares his side of the information, that his father, Charon Mercar, who is also a respected Legatus in this rewrite, oversaw a strange pattern in how many prisoners of war and masterless slaves, primarily from places like Ventus and Carastes, Qunari-conquered cities, have simply disappeared, and how surprisingly many military vessels have been transferred to Minrathous. Since Neve is a detective, it’s fun to make this part of the journey feel a bit like a crime mystery.

Once all information has been shared, Neve declares that it’s time to go.

Approaching the Coliseum

Neve takes us across Dock Town’s roofs towards the closed-off area of the coliseum. There, we see just how massively guarded it is. The official excuse for all this is a military training exercise. Horrifyingly, this is much closer to the truth than we realise. There are Imperial Templars and Legionnaires patrolling the outskirts, so we have to find our way in.

Neve directs us to a secret hiding spot, where we meet Tarquin, who is, as we know, an Imperial Templar working for the Shadow Dragons. Not even he knows exactly what’s happening, but something definitely big is going on.

There are two options before us: do we sneak in from above and observe from the shadows, or do we disguise ourselves as templars and participate in a more open manner? This right here gives us another choice regarding Mercar’s way of doing things. Are we feeling confident enough to just walk in and hide in plain sight? Or do we take the stealthy approach? While Neve is all for stealth, Tarquin prefers the closer look. So a first major choice presents itself:

Follow Neve and observe the proceedings from above, quietly gathering the information you need.

Follow Tarquin and disguise yourself as an attendant, getting a much closer look at the proceedings.

So I’m feeling a little brave right now. I think my Mercar would try to do the bold approach to get better results, even if it means a higher risk. For this playthrough, I’m choosing to follow Tarquin and let myself be disguised. Neve begrudgingly follows along.

Entering the Coliseum

A few minutes later, Mercar, Neve, and Tarquin approach the Coliseum gates in disguise. Tarquin wears his Templar armour, while Mercar and Neve are dressed as mages of the Legion.

Once we enter the arena, we have the chance to explore it for a little while. Doing so allows us to encounter the following:

We can have an early chat with Magister Zara Renata, who will, of course, be very relevant later, along with her lackeys Felicia and Calivan, all of whom are prominent members of the Venatori. Neve is able to make that connection due to Felicia’s brother Livius having so notoriously attempted to corrupt the Wardens at Adamant Fortress in DAI.

We may encounter Magister Bataris, alongside his son Albin and get early hints of just how far the Venatori corruption runs.

If we make a good enough persuasion attempt at the Templar Captain guarding the entrance to a basement, we shall enter it and discover the prisoners and slaves intended for some heinous affair. Here, and only here, if we perform this correct dialogue choice, and being a human mage, unfortunately, certainly helps here, we get to see that our father, Charon Mercar, is among the imprisoned. And the worst of it all? He doesn’t even recognise you. Actually none of the slaves and prisoners react in any way, as all of them seem to be under some sort of spell. As we look closer, we can see that all of them have strange spiked collars around their necks, filled with blood. This is blood magic that keeps them entranced. If we want to risk it, we have time to break our father’s collar and ensure that perhaps, he can escape. So we do just that.

The Imperator

Following our exploration of the Coliseum, we get streamed into a crowd of onlookers as the Imperator of Tevinter’s legions, the Supreme Legatus himself, Magister Aemilianus Laskaris, enters the centre of the arena.

We know from DAV that Tevinter has an Imperator, and the Imperator is not the same as the Archon in this context. While the Archon is the overall ruler, the Imperator is the highest military commander. Think of this guy as Tevinter’s version of Loghain. Laskaris also happens to be one of the loudest voices responsible for forcing the Lucerni out of the Magisterium.

Laskaris delivers a speech in which he proclaims just how bad Tevinter is faring against the Antaam. Here we get some early insight into the fact that a large chunk of the Qunari army broke off and is now bearing down on Antiva and Rivain. However, a large part of it remained and is following the Arishok into battle against the Imperium. And even against this broken Antaam, the Legions are starting to fail.

Laskaris cites lost cities such as Ventus, Carastes, and Neromenian as evidence for the desperate situation Tevinter is now facing. Therefore, something must be done. Something drastic. He presents, to the gathered onlookers, the Salvatio Initiative. Basically, all unpurchased slaves and prisoners of war are to be given to Tevinter’s legions, where Laskaris and the Legates serving under him will perform blood magic rituals to turn them into mindless but ravaging soldiers against the Antaam. Dangerous cannon fodder essentially. He will use tonight’s demonstration to convince the gathered members of the Magisterium to pass a law that will officially permit Tevinter’s legions to use blood magic. Well, we know, Tevinter has always used blood magic behind closed doors, but this will mean that all safety measures are off, all precautions, all careful attempts at hiding it. And the worst part is: since slaves are considered nothing but tools, it won’t even be seen as unethical by the large portion of conservative Senate members. And prisoners of war? Qunari? Who cares about them anyway, right? This is the darkness and true corruption permeating Tevinter. This is exactly why the Shadow Dragons exist to bring back the light.

Several doors open and Laskaris directs all slaves and prisoners to be brought forth. They are all wearing the blood collars. Upon the Imperator’s command, him and several blood mages under his leadership, activate the blood collars and turn the slaves and prisoners into an absolute frenzy. A battle erupts in which the sheer destructive power of the now-mindless fighters is demonstrated.

Mercar now has a choice to make, and it is the biggest one there is in the prologue:

Do we stealthily fight the blood mages and try to rescue the innocent mind-controlled people without blowing our cover? You do, however, risk your father dying.

Do we rush in headfirst and fight Laskaris head-on, saving your father but maybe dooming more innocents and risking exposure?

Do we put our personal emotional interest above the greater good or vice versa? Well, because we broke our father’s collar earlier, we can at least assume that he’s going to be able to fight for himself with a clear head, so let’s focus on the blood mages in a stealthy manner.

Neve and Tarquin quickly take us behind the scenes as the crowd watchers in apt interest. There are five blood mages, including Laskaris, who need to be dealt with. Neve takes one half, Tarquin the other, while you have a go at Laskaris himself. You are masked so he won’t know it’s you.

While Neve and Tarquin successfully dismantle two blood mages each, we sneak right up to Laskaris and try to either knock him out or backstab him altogether. This results in the same outcome but tells a lot about Mercar’s personality. Do we kill this guy and end it now? Or do we try and incapacitate him so that he can still be of use for the future?

Regardless, Laskaris sees it coming and engages in a boss battle against us. It’s a tough battle, one that we are logically meant to lose. If we get Laskaris down to 0HP, miraculously so unless we play on Storyteller mode, the cutscene will slightly change but the outcome remains largely the same.

Laskaris lashes out and wounds us, causing us to fall down, bleeding, losing our mask, exposing ourselves to Laskaris, while the slaves and prisoners stage a mad revolt around us, forcing the gathered magisters to flee the scene. But because we freed our father from his collar, he comes rushing in to save us, engaging Laskaris in a one-on-one duel. Despite “only” being Soporati, he puts up quite a fight with his huge two-hander. We want to help him, desperately so, but we are just too weak. Laskaris is impressed by Charon’s strength, but ultimately, deals him a mortal wound. Just before Laskaris turns to finish us off, he is struck in the shoulder by…Bianca!

Varric steps into the fray and fires off a row of bolts against the Imperator, allowing Neve and Tarquin to take us away as we pass out. As they do so, the Viper appears and casts a spell that shrouds the whole arena in fog.

Back at the Shadow Lair

We awaken in the Shadow Lair and are greeted by Varric. It turns out that he was using this whole mission to assess us from the background, to determine if we are the one he’s looking for. And he decides that, yes, we are. Laskaris, the Venatori, all of this is just one puzzle piece of something much greater. We can press Varric on what this could possibly be, but he won't tell us just yet. Instead, he tells us that we should disappear. And he might just be able to help with that. We can be incredibly outrageous about this. I just discovered the biggest plot to endanger slaves ever since the Magister Sidereal tore open the Veil to reach the Golden City! I can’t just leave right now to pursue something I don't even know about!

At this point, Maevaris joins us and agrees that Mercar has to disappear for a while, now that Laskaris knows who we are. We can’t be seen with the Shadow Dragons for the time being. Doing so would just endanger the whole cause.

Reluctantly or readily, that depends on our personality, we concede that there is sense in Varric’s words. Varric advises us to adopt a codename as well, like so many agents of the Inquisition did back in the day. Mercar thinks for a moment, reflects on the most recent events, and decides on “Rook”. Varric approves. “The strongest piece on the chessboard, I like it.”

Afterwards we get a final chance to talk to the members of the Shadow Dragons before we depart, and get a last look at the Undercity. Neve returns to Dock Town to keep an eye on Laskaris and the slave rings, as well as search for any Venatori ties.

What follows is a cutscene where Rook and Varric depart the Shadow Lair and leave Minrathous altogether. One last time, Rook looks at the city he swore to fight for, then turns around and follows Varric into the unknown.

And that’s as far as we’ll go today! I hope you enjoyed my little hypothetical take on a potential Shadow Dragon origin mission. Of course, not everything is refined and perfect, but I hope you still got the overall gist of what I was going for! Next time, we shall focus on a potential prologue for the Grey Wardens! Stay tuned!

Rewriting Veilguard Part 3 - The Grey Wardens

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hkruu · 3 months ago

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“ME & YOU?” — hkr

\\ soft yan streamer bf , mod!user , silly fic for y'all , obsessive , implied stalking in the past , implied doxxing //

Akira likes streaming with you.

You both started with meeting each other through an rpg game, agreeing to become his mod, becoming friends, and then meeting in real life and falling in love. It was a normal cliche love story about two gamers falling for each other in your point of view, what about Akira's point of view?

It remains a secret.

You always wondered how he knew all of your favorite things right off the bat, how he knew your awkward gestures, your hobbies and all of that. Maybe he was just really attentive to the things you did..

Akira wasn't a stalker.

He's sweet, he always takes care of you, putting your wants over his. Both of you communicate when something goes wrong, you balance everything. It was a perfect and a normal relationship.

At least that's what you thought.

hkruu: what r we playing today !!

Not_venti: wsg chattttttt

xX_AMI_Xx: r u playing with ur s/o?

yurisghs: hi akiraaaa [akira_pat]

fatgirlsummer: when's the continuation of Until Then ?? ^^

"Until Then? Uh, I mean, probably next week." Akira's eyes glanced over the chat box, watching as many viewers greeted him with good afternoons and nights. "My significant other?" He raised his right eyebrow curiously, reading aloud one of the questions.

"Honestly, I'm not sure if they'll be able to make it on time.." Akira leaned back on his gaming chair, stretching a little.

killlove_i: nauur why [akira_sob]

Not_venti: skibidi will make it on time trust.

tsukasaaaa: I hope they're well ><

cutiepie101: COOP PKEASE !!!

"I'm probably just gonna farm today, not unless Lisa invites me again." He smiles towards the camera, loading up HSR. "I'm not pulling for uh, rappa? The new character I mean, I forgot their name."

llyyyn: lol same

yurisghs: is she good? Ion look at leaks

Not_venti: I'm pulling:))

lamanbrug_01: goodluck to those pulling!!

sdkwohryuu: I want Sunday [akira_sob]

"I want Sunday too.. physically.." Akira pouts, eventually breaking into a silly smile. The rest of the stream going fine as usual, farming here, doing the new quest, companion quest, pulling for Fei Xaio, you know the rest.

A good hour and a half passes and suddenly there's a;

Ding!

"Hey chat, guess who's home!" Akira suddenly brightened, focusing on the game even more as he patiently waited for the same sentence he always heard every single day. Of course, he'd never get tired of it, never.

"I'm home!" A muffled voice could be heard in the background.

Not_venti: I TOKD U THEYD MAKE IT OJ TIME

xX_AMI_Xx: I js woke up whay happened

yurisghs: caught my lonely ass smiling

yumiwgeo: can't relate @yurisighs

Not_venti: LMAO

"You'll find someone yurisghs!" He snickered, quickly exiting out of HSR and logging onto Genshin instead, the familiar bright screen never failing to blind him.

nnsigma [MOD]: hi chat

Not_venti: hi skibidi

yurisghs: halooo

lynnuoo: wsg

yumiwgeo: [akira_wave]

tsukasaaaa: [akira_wave]

"sup babe, yes I ate, I drank water, I showered, I cooked lunch and I did the laundry." Akira's smirk was evident, quickly doing his commissions in-game. If you're wondering he mains Neuvilette.

nnsigma [MOD]: ok good [akira_pat]

nnsigma [MOD]: let's play dti instead ong

Not_venti: real

Guihimoo: [akira_nod]

"No."

About the said ‘Akira is probably just really attentive’ towards you.. let's expand a little bit on that.

The first time you met each other at a nearby Cafe, you were surprised. The pictures of Akira on discord didn't do justice to what he looks like in real life, this guy was walking around as if he just came out of a red carpet..

Aside from that, his personality was still the same as online. Teasing, snarky, he's still got that attitude, and of course playful — he was the fun type you'd want to be friends with. But, he really was your type.

You couldn't resist glancing towards his neck from time to time, hell — you couldn't even make eye contact without being mentally flustered. "Is something wrong?" He'd ask, but you'd immediately shake your head and go along with what he's saying.

I mean, Akira didn't know your address, why are you asking why he knew the way back to your home? He used to live here.

"W-woah.. we have more in common than I thought!" You beamed while Akira smiled softly, it looks like his hard work did pay off. All that late night searching, perfecting and practicing — it was worth it in the very end because you were finally here.

Akira could see you, touch you, feel you, make you feel things you've never felt — ah, how he wishes he could go back in time just to see your horrified expression when you almost got doxxed by someone anonymous.

Of course, he was the one to comfort you at the time, the way you opened up to him about everything, finally letting him know of your feelings.. It was worth every little thing he had worked hard for.

It didn't matter if he had a small or huge fan base what mattered was you being right beside him, experiencing hardships and hope. Akira could do anything, he could try his best — he's not perfect, he has many flaws he'll admit that.

But..

It was worth it if it was you.

Akira was glad that the world hasn't ended yet. Not that it would happen any time soon but — he'd want to be next to you even if it was a life or death situation.

Extras:

"I'm rating you 1 star for the effort. You suck." Akira tapped on the tablet aggressively, while you squirmed right next to him, trying to desperately get your phone case back on — fumbling quite badly.

"I'm rating you 1 star too!"

"You're just mad I'm a trend setter."

#﹕HKR 💫#﹕writing ( O4 )#yandere drabble #yandere oc x reader #gn reader #reqs open #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #writers on tumblr #tw yandere #soft yandere #x you #x reader #fluff #working on thr req i swear

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felassan · 5 months ago

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New today on DA:TV from Game Informer: 'A Deep Dive Into BioWare's Companion Design Philosophy In Dragon Age: The Veilguard'

"A Deep Dive Into BioWare's Companion Design Philosophy In Dragon Age: The Veilguard by Wesley LeBlanc on Jul 15, 2024 at 02:00 PM During my visit to BioWare in its Edmonton, Canada, office earlier this year for the current Game Informer cover story on Dragon Age: The Veilguard, I heard a sentiment repeated throughout the day from the game's leads: in past Dragon Age games, BioWare stumbled onto great companions, but with Veilguard, it's the first game where the studio feels it purposefully and intentionally created great companions. As such, those companions are key to everything happening in Veilguard. With such a significant emphasis on these characters, I spoke to some of the game's leads to learn precisely about BioWare's philosophy on companions in Veilguard. [embedded link to DA:TV reveal trailer] "No, that is the case," BioWare general manager Gary McKay tells me when I ask if he agrees with the stumbled-onto-greatness sentiment. "I would first start with Dragon Age – each installment in this franchise has been different, so we didn't set out to make a game that was a sequel or the same game as before. We really wanted to do something different and we did push the envelope in a couple of areas, companions being one of them. Once we got knee deep into it, we really realized we had something special with these companions, again, around the motivations, the story arc, and it really started to become the centerpiece for this game.""

"The Philosophy Behind Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Companions Game director Corinne Busche agrees, adding that Veilguard's companions are "the most fully realized complex companions we've ever crafted." She also believes they're the Dragon Age series' best. "They're complicated, they have complicated problems, and that's what's interesting," she continues. "As much as I adore the companions and the journeys I've been on with them in past Dragon Age titles – previously, it feels like companions are going on an adventure with me, the main character, whether it's the Hero of Ferelden or Hawke, you name it. But in [Veilguard], in many ways, the companions are so fleshed out that it feels as though I'm going on a journey with them. I'm exploring how they think and feel; I'm helping them through their problems. We're working through their unique character arcs. They feel like my dear friends, and I absolutely adore them." Busche says these companions participate in the game's darker and more optimistic parts. "We've really moved into a place where you can have the highest of highs, and it can be colorful, it can be optimistic, but also, you can have the lowest of lows where it gets gritty, it gets painful, it gets quite dark. But throughout it all, there is a sense of optimism. And it creates this delightful throughline throughout the game." When I ask creative director John Epler about BioWare's philosophy behind Veilguard's companions, he reveals a phrase the studio uses: Dragon Age is about characters, not causes. "What that means for us is [...] let's take the Grey Wardens, for example – the Grey Wardens are an interesting faction but by themselves, they don't tell a story, but there are characters within that faction that do," he tells me. "And the same thing with other characters in the story. They represent these factions, they show the face of the other parts of Thedas and of the storytelling we really want to do, which, again, shows Thedas as this large, diverse living world that has things going on when you're not there.""

"Epler says one of BioWare's principles when creating Veilguard was that the world exists even when you – Rook – are not around. There are things, ancient conflicts, grudges, and more, that happen even when Rook isn't participating in them, he says. "You kind of come in 'in media res' in some of these, so that's where we wanted to go with the companions," he says. "They have stories of their own. Where can Rook come into these stories, and what interesting ways can those stories develop not just based on themselves but also based on Rook's presence within them?" Dragon Age series art director Matt Rhodes adds that companions are the load-bearing pillars for everything in Veilguard, so "when you're designing them, it's not just designing a character; they're the face for their faction, the face for, in [some cases like Bellara Lutara], an entire area of the world." From his aesthetic-forward part of developing companions in Veilguard as the game's art director, he tells me Veilguard's characters are (hopefully) going to give cosplayers a challenge. "The previous art director had the mindset we should make things easier for [cosplayers], which I think is a misunderstanding of cosplayers," Rhodes says. "We've seen the kind of challenges they're willing to take on, and so we've gone for, in some cases, a level of complexity and detail that I hope a lot of them are excited to rise to the challenge for." A Quick Detour: Neve Gallus"

"As Neve Gallus is the companion I spend the most time with during my visit to BioWare, I asked Epler about this character and her role in the game. Here's what I learned: "So Neve is a private investigator in Minrathous. Minrathous is the capital city of the Tevinter Empire. It’s also a mage-ocracy; mages run the entirety of the Empire – they’re all-powerful. A lot of them still believe in slavery, they keep slaves, it’s a very oppressive, totalitarian regime. And Neve is a member of the Shadow Dragons, which is a rebel faction within Thedas that fights back against this mage-ocracy, fights back against this oppressive, very damaging regime that’s taken over the city, because she believes there’s good, and she is there for the common people. So if you’re not a mage in Tevinter, you are lower than dirt for a lot of people. She and the Shadow Dragons, in general, fight back, but Neve, in particular, is this character that represents this more, ‘voice of the streets, the voice of the common people.’ In previous Dragon Age games, you go to Orlais, you meet Emperor Celene, you meet Briala; we wanted to have a character that showed not just what is Tevinter at the top, but what is the average person who lives in Tevinter. And she is very much about, again, fighting oppression, fighting tyranny and, as a private investigator, finding clues and ways through problems that aren’t maybe as action-focused as some of the other companions." Companions, In And Out Of Combat"

"Rook's companions in Veilguard have roles both in and out of combat, but since I only saw a few hours of this game (which is sure to be multiple dozens of hours long), I wanted to ask Busche about these roles and how they play out. Here's what I learned: In Combat Bushce: "So companions as realized characters, we have to take that premise when we talk about how they show up in combat. These are their own people. They have their own behaviors; they have their own autonomy on the battlefield; they'll pick their own targets. As their plots progress, they'll learn how to use their abilities more competently, and it really feels like you're fighting alongside these realized characters in battle. So I love that, I love the believability of it. It feels like we're all in it together. "But then when it comes time for the strategy, and the progression I might add, that's where a sense of teamwork comes into play as the leader of this party as Rook. When I open the ability wheel, I almost feel like we're huddling up. We're coming up with a game plan together. I see all the abilities that Harding has, and I see all that Bellara is capable of, and sometimes I'm using vulnerabilities synergistically. Maybe I'm slowing time with Bellara so that I can unleash devastating attacks with Harding, knocking down the enemy, and then me as Rook, rushing in and capitalizing on this setup they've created for me. It is a game about creating this organic sense of teamwork. "Now, there are more explicit synergies as well. We very much have intentional combos where your companions can play off each other, you can queue up abilities between them, and each of those abilities will go off and have their effect. But it results in this massive detonation where you get enhanced effects, debuff the entire battlefield, all because of planning and teamwork. What makes it really cool is you can introduce Rook into that equation as well. One of my favorite things to do is upgrade some of Harding's abilities so she will automatically use some of these abilities that normally I'd have to instruct her to do. And she'll actually set my character up to execute that combo that, again, has that detonation effect." [embedded link to DA:TV gameplay reveal video]"

"Outside Combat Busche: "It's one of my favorite topics. I talked about the idea that these are fully realized characters, that they're very authentic and relatable. So outside of combat, what that means is they're going to have their own concerns, fears, distractions, and indeed, even their own sanctuaries, their own personal spaces. In our base of operations this time, our player hub, the Lighthouse, each of the companions has their own room. And what I love about it is it becomes a reflection of who they are. The more time you spend with them, as the game develops as you work through their arc, their room and their personalities will evolve and flourish and become more complete as they trust you more and you understand them better. "What's interesting, you mentioned romance, the companions also develop romantically and I'm not just talking about with the main character Rook; I'm talking about each other. There are moments in the game where two of our companions fell in love with each other and I had to make some pretty challenging choices as it related to the quest we're on. And it broke my heart, it absolutely did [Editor's Note: I get the sense Busche is talking about a specific playthrough of Veilguard here – not a definitive sequence of events for every playthrough]. "So I would say, as you're adventuring with them, as you're returning to the Lighthouse and getting to know them – all these decisions and conversations and things you learn about them – it endears them to you in a way that I honestly haven't experienced before. And sometimes that fills me with joy and sometimes it breaks my heart." For more about the game, including exclusive details, interviews, video features, and more, click the Dragon Age: The Veilguard hub button below."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #feels

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snoopledrooplecheesedoodle · 1 year ago

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Love Bugs: Insect Dorm Leaders x Reader Part 1

It's yandere so don't read if you don't like. Also, to all my requests still working on them, I just needed a small break from Jojo's. This is my opinion on what insect they'd be, and I'll probably write full stories for each of them. If you think something fits them better, just let me know. These are scenarios that are not going to be part of the main story. Reader is gender neutral. They get a little long but hey enjoy.

Riddle: Fire Ant

How could this have happened? You were having a nice day in the park, which turned into a nightmare. Ginormous fire ants swarmed the park and attacked anyone they saw on sight. Frantically, you ran to find a place to hide. Quickly ducking behind a tree as a group of the loyal foot soldiers skittered by. Peeping around the corner, you prayed that those horrid carnivorous ants were gone.

Voices in the distance. You duck back and sink to the base of the tree, praying to the Gods that the voices don't come closer. If only the Gods didn't hate you so much. "Dueceeeee, this is so boring! Why didn't Riddle send someone else out here?" The voice held a childish yet bored tone to it and it sounded human. Could they be humans? "Quit whining it's an honor to be assigned such an important task for the King." The other voice sounded just as youthful as the first but with a more responsible air. King? What King? Your curiosity got the better of you as you peeped back around the tree to see who was talking.

To your horror you saw two men which look human from the head down to the torso (minus the antenna). From the torso down they had the body of ants... fire ants. Your luck got worse by the minute as the blue haired one spotted you. "Oi, you get out from behind that tree!" You yelped at the harsh tone and did the only rational thing. Run. Run far and fast. You could hear the sound of your heart pounding in your ears as you escaped certain death.

Almost.

"Gotcha" You squeak in surprise as you feel a pair of arms circle around your waist. You thrash in the redhead's arms as he laughs at your pitiful attempt to escape. "Nice try but you're nothing but a puny human compared to- ow!" You bit down hard on the closest bit of flesh that you could find. When it came down to it, you were going to fight for your life. Even if it meant biting the strange hybrid that was holding you. Running the opposite direction, you again find yourself captured by the redhead's blue companion. "Argh that little bitch, I ought to eat them for biting me." You trembled at the threat as the redhead glared daggers at you. "Quit whining, we need to report back to the King our findings." Duece stated before lifting you over his back and walking in the direction they came from. Ace chuckled a little, a sadistic glint filling his red eyes. "Yeah, let Riddle decide what to do with them. I can't wait! Oi, you hear that bitey? Riddle's gonna destroy you." The jeers do nothing to comfort you as you continued to scream and kick against the man's hard exoskeleton.

The duo arrived at a site that made your eyes widen with fear. An ant's nest that looked almost like a mountain. Thousands of ants and ant hybrids were moving in and out of the mound. The sight alone made you very queasy. That's it for humanity, if there were more of them inside. The duo holding you hostage crawled past the fellow ants who all drooled hungrily at the sight of you, causing you to shiver. You were going to be torn to pieces by a bunch of hungry ants. You silently sobbed as you lamented your fate.

Skittering through the corridors, the duo made it to their destination. Your ears were met with a joyful squeal as you heard someone skitter closer. "Ah that human you have is so cute! Can I touch it?" Even though the voice was friendly the dehumanizing way he treated you scared you a little, causing you to actively try and wriggle away from the excited voice. Another voice spoke. "Riddle won't be two pleased that you brought a human into the colony. You know the rule-" "Yeah, yeah no human shall dwell in or know of the colony. We just thought he might like this one as a trophy of sorts." The redhead spoke to the unknown voice with confidence oozing from his words. The ant he was talking to sighed. "Alright, I'm only allowing this since he's in a good mood from the hunt. Just don't be surprised when you find yourself headless." With that the two moved forward allowing you to see who the two were talking two. A green haired man with glasses who looked nervous, and a ginger who gave you a quick wink before returning to his post.

Inside the room you could hear the skittering of the ants and a single voice that rose above the others and gave out commands. "You two take those bodies to the food cellar. I want them to be preserved for future meals." The voice ordered in a serious tone. So much for a good mood. "Hey your majesty." The red head drawled out as they stepped before the King's humongous throne. An exasperated sigh came from the top of the throne. "What a pleasant surprise to see my scavengers come back empty handed. Weren't you supposed to look for survivors?" The man you have yet to see had a voice dripping with sarcasm. Duece knelt before the king causing your body to slide and fall off the man's shoulder. "Apologies your majesty, we were searching for more survivors, but we got a bit distracted." Duece hesitated at the end of sentence. The King falls silent before retorting. "Distracted? How?" Cue you lifting your head, a little disoriented from the fall. All of the ants gasped as the supposedly dead human rose shakily to their feet. You looked up at the throne to see an adorable man sitting on the dirt throne.

He had short red hair that blended in well with his antenna making the heart shaped antenna look like his hair. A crown of leaves and flowers sat atop his head, and two wide stormy grey eyes stared down at you with interest. His plush lips pulled a neutral look on his baby face as he looked at the scene with indifference. A ring of giant soldier ants with spears formed around the three of you, ready to tear the rule breakers apart.

That's it. You weren't going down without a fight. You turned towards the nearest guard and sunk your teeth into the fleshy part of his arm. He dropped his spear out of fear and surprise to clutch his hurt arm. You grabbed the spear from the floor and wasted no time charging at the guards. Even though the ants were bigger and stronger than you, you fought for your life. Slashing and jabbing at the soldier ants. Duece and his redheaded friend joined in the fight for their hides, beating back the soldiers. As you fought, it became very clear that this was a losing battle. One of the soldiers manages to knock the spear out of your hand and leaves you defenseless. This was it; you were going to die.

Instead of the sound of the spear piercing your internal organs and the feeling of pain attached the sound of clapping echoes through the chambers. From up on the throne Riddle is clapping with a smug look on his face, like an Emperor watching his favorite gladiator win. "Well done human, you have thoroughly impressed me." Riddle stood from his throne and waved his hand. The guards and all other ants nearby bowed low to the ground as the King approached. Up close you were able to see that he was much shorter than most of the ants here but commanded the room with his royal presence. You keep eye contact with the King and glare at him, causing a wicked smirk to appear on his face. "I must say of all the humans I've met you have the most spirit." He grabs your chin in a crushing grip. His gray eyes meeting your (e/c) eyes. Even in the face of the most powerful ant here, you refused to back down.

Riddle laughs at your defiance before leaning in close enough that your foreheads touched. "Let's see how long that spirit lasts." He blows warm air into your face causing you to flinch back. Riddle's amusement drops as he addresses the duo you came in with. "See to it that those two are locked away until I can come up with a fitting punishment." Some of the guards nod before dragging the ragged and confused duo away. Riddle turns back to you and smiles. "Good news you'll remain with your life." He turns to the ginger in the hallway and snaps his finger. The ginger comes in obediently. "Bad news is, your life in mine now." With that last statement the ginger urges you through the door and away from the King's watchful gaze.

Riddle returns to his throne and sighs happily, for the first time in a while he's found something worth his time. A human, a toy, and perhaps in the future a queen. Riddle chuckles to himself at his musings. However, he does know...

Every King needs a Queen

Leona: Ant Lion

Curiosity killed the cat.

Was that how the phrase went?

It must when it slipped through the elders' lips with such ease. They would always say it directed at you, with their judgmental looks and wagging fingers. However, you never paid any heed as these geezers were just looking out for you because you brought them food.

You were an ant, a worker ant specifically.

You were also a curious little insect.

Ever since you were a larva you dreamed of joining your siblings, friends, and neighbors to help scavenge for food and fight off enemies. However secretly you also selfishly hoped to go out and see a little more of the world you called home. Sure, it was dangerous for you to wander too far from the colony, but you were strong. All ants were strong and if only they would just use it differently. It was always "We're strong to protect the colony" or "We're strong to gather food" never anything about the individual.

You sighed as you worked with five other ants to carry a leaf back to the colony for supper. Your job was to fetch and deliver, no questions asked. The colony needs food and without you, it gets no food. You are important yes, but you only get to see a small part of your world. The part the scouts deemed safe and plentiful.

There was a job you wanted. Part of the scouts. The ones who risked their lives and explored the corners of the world in search of food and places to expand. In your dream like state, you almost dropped your part of the leaf which caused the team to groan at you. "(Y/N) you're not focusing." Neema complained. Neema was a close acquaintance of yours and the only one who didn't outright chastise your dreams. She was a dark-skinned beauty with short frizzy hair and almond eyes.

"Sorry, just thinking." You replied staring wistfully off onto the savannah. The sun cast a radiant glow on the acacia trees. Trees that you never climbed. There were watering holes that you never swam in, beasts you never faced. So much to do in your short life and you were wasting it picking up stupid leaves.

"Hey, I know as soon as we get back to the colony, we can help sort the food, that way we get first pick." Neema's dark eyes filled with joy at the mention of food. "All you think about is food." Was all you could say at your friend's childish remarks. "That's what ants think about food and work." Neema beamed proudly. She was the definition of everything you were not. Hardworking, food focused, and successful. In fact, you two might have been friends if that was all you cared about.

But it wasn't...

You had snuck out of the colony for some fresh air. During dinner time it can be a little chaotic. There were thousands of your people getting food. You had worked all day picking up leaves and sorting food, that you weren't hungry when it was time to eat. Sick of the sight of food.

No not you, you wanted to see the sun set over the savannah and the thousands of twinkling stars. Feel the gentle caress of the wind on her face and antennas. To breath the fresh air and not the hot and sticky air in the colony. You wanted freedom. More than anything. However, you knew an ant alone cannot survive for long. God you were so frustrated! Why do you feel like this when no one else does?

You wanted to cry your frustration out, you wanted to run. Where? You didn't know but you sure as hell didn't want to be here. With no other thought in mind, you ran.

Everything was a blur around you as you ran without a care in the world. Screw not being able to survive on your own, you wanted to thrive. Even if you lived just one more day, you want to live freely.

You should have watched where you were going.

Thump! You rolled straight into a sand pit, hurting not only your pride but your legs a bit. You twitched your six legs to see if they were in operating condition. Your middle and back ones were fine, but your two front ones hurt like hell.

Great, just great.

Things just couldn't get any worse.

"Hmm...what could have possibly ruined my slumber?"

Crap

You remember what the elders told you about sand pits, if any ant was unlucky enough to fall into one. Also, more importantly what hid in them. The sand began to rustle beneath you, causing your fear to rise. You needed to get out of here. Away from the Ant Lion. As he yawned and stretched you climbed with all your might on your four working legs. The sand was so uneven that you kept slipping back in with tears in your eyes.

Flick

Sand was thrown in your eyes causing your vision to blur. You cried in pain as more sand was thrown at you. You slipped further and further down the trap towards the waiting jaws of your predator. "Tch stop struggling herbivore, it's no use." You screamed at the lazy voice that was closer than you were comfortable with. Standing on all your legs to try to escape, you yelp in pain and fall back down. You tried blinking the sand out of your eyes to see the face of your killer.

Green eyes.

A handsome man with green eyes and tan skin stared down at you. He was much larger than you and stronger by the looks of it. His long dark hair flowed down his back in waves. You would have thought the man was an ant like you, except the lack of antenna. As well as the two sharp looking pincers in his mouth.

"Hm, you're a lot cuter than my usual prey. Tell you what, you agree to become my pillow and I won't eat you till morning." You could only squeak as you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your soft torso. A sharp thing poked you in the neck back causing you to freeze up. "I need an agreement little ant, otherwise I might be tempted to eat you right here and now." You nodded swiftly causing the Ant Lion to purr and burry you both into the sand. Before you were completely submerged you hear him speak.

"I might just keep you after all because..."

You're too good to eat

Azul: Diving Bell Spider

You wished you had listened to your mother.

You wish you hadn't been so stupid

So naive

So kind

It was too late now as you were trapped in the lake with a man who claimed to love you ever since you showed him kindness all those years ago.

You were a cute and bubbly kid known for a kind heart and loud voice. Being the bundle of energy you were, your parents often sent you outside to play. You especially liked playing outside your family lake house. Swimming in the lake, chasing ducks, and catching fireflies at night were some of your favorite things to do. However, one day you met someone you firmly wish now you never met.

You had snuck out of the lake house early in the morning while your parents were still asleep. Hoping to get some early morning swimming in before breakfast, you tore over to the lake in your swimsuit. You jumped off the dock and began to playfully splash around giggling with joy. You stop splashing about and just let your tiny body relax, floating gently on the lake surface. As you absorbed the sounds of nature you heard the sound of...crying? You popped your head above the water and listened intently to find where the sound was coming from. Searching high and low, you were unable to locate where the sound was coming from until you noticed a small figure underneath the reeds.

It was a small boy but unlike you he was only a few inches tall. From the waist up he was a pudgy little boy with silver hair and blue eyes. From below the waist he had the body of a spider. The boy noticed you and shrieked in fear. "Who-who are you?" You beamed down at the boy with a friendly smile. "I'm (Y/N)! Wanna be friends?" The boy eyed you suspiciously before crying some more. "Why would you want to be friends with a fat, stupid, spider like me?" Your eyes softened at the boy's harsh statement. "I don't think you're stupid." The boy stops sniffling and stared up at you, blue eyes filled with hope. "You don't?"

"Nope!" You chirped cheerfully offering your hand to your new tiny friend. He hesitated once more before carefully climbing onto the palm of your hand. You lifted it up to your face so you could see your friend better. He bashfully tried to hide himself from your curious gaze. Nodding your head satisfactorily you smiled at the boy in your hand. "You're the prettiest kid I've ever seen!" Your words cause the boy in your hand to cover his face in embarrassment.

"What's your name pretty new friend?"

"Azul."

"Nice to meet you Azul."

"You too (Y/N)."

You and Azul hung out every day since the day you met. You'd come to the lake and Azul would wait for you on the bank. Then the two of you would play all sorts of games together. Azul showed you all kind of new and cool places near the lake that you had never seen before. You really liked hanging out with your new friend. Unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end as Summer came to an end. Your family was going to move back to your regular home for the school year, which meant saying goodbye to your friend.

"Azul I'm not coming back tomorrow." You stated sadly which caused the little spider great shock. "Why?" He sounded so heartbroken at your words. "I have to go home." You state sadly unable to look at your friend out of guilt. "I thought you lived with the humans in the house?" Azul's voice was wavering a bit as he tried not to cry. "This isn't my real home; my real home is far away from here." "No!" The little spider boy clung to your thumb like his life depended on it. "You can't leave, I love you." You patted the poor boy's head gently.

"I love you too Azul, you're my best friend." Azul's eyes lit with hope at your words. "Then you'll come back soon, right?" You smiled and nodded. "Yep, totally will!" "Promise?" Azul stuck his pinky out childishly. "Promise." You giggled booping him gently with your pinky.

Many years had passed, and you were now a grown woman. You had forgotten all about Azul and the promise you made to him. Instead, you were focusing on your last Summer of freedom before heading off to college. You brought a couple of friends and your current crush (c/n) with you to the lake house.

"Come on (Y/N), what's taking you so long?" Your good friend Bess asked stamping her foot in exasperation. You laughed at your friend's impatience. "I'm coming, don't worry." You eagerly walked out of the bathroom in your new bathing suit. "Wow (Y/N), wait till (c/n) gets a load of you looking all good." You blush at Bess' compliment before rushing past her. "Last one off the pier has to make lunch." "What no fair!"

The day was perfect. You spent plenty of time with your friends and even flirted a little with (c/n). (c/n) flirted back with you causing your heart to soar at the thought of them liking you. After you finished dinner, you went out onto the pier to relax a little bit. You sighed in contentment for the day and the days ahead. The sound of crickets and frogs lulled you gently into a state of calm. You yawned and stretched a little. Hmm you must be tired, time to go to-

You woke with a crick in your neck and back and well everything. Sleeping on the pier was not a good idea. Not to mention the mosquito bites you had accumulated throughout the night. Well, time for some breakfast. You went into the house to start fixing breakfast. The smell of fresh pancakes and bacon ought to wake Bess and the others right up. When you finished, no one came outside of their rooms.

Strange. Normally someone would be stirring at this point. Oh well they can fix their own breakfast. You ate in the silence of the house which gnawed at you. Alright, something is wrong. You walked up to Bess' room and knocked. One time. Two times. The third time you let yourself in. No one was in that room. In fact, the bed was freshly made like no one had even slept in it. You checked the other rooms of your friends. Empty. Worry and pancakes were not a good mix. Finally, you came to (c/n)'s room which laid empty but with a note on the bed.

"Come to the pier tonight darling."

-A

Okay, who was pulling a prank on you? It was not funny. Safe to say you were showing up at the pier tonight to give someone a piece of your mind. First, she had to clean the plates and then hatch your plan.

You came to the pier at night as the note said. However, you didn't see a single soul there. Another bothering thing was that your friends and (c/n) hadn't returned from wherever they went. You might as well sit down and wait for the mysterious Mx. A to show up.

"Oya careful where you sit." You jumped back as a dragonfly flew up from where you were about to sit. "Did you just t-talk?" The dragonfly person in question just smirked and flew close to your face. He had teal hair, and one eye was gold and the other was olive. A black piece of hair fell to the right of his face. "Yes, I did t-talk have any q-questions?" Your face paled at this site. Fairies weren't real and yet there was a tiny man in front of you with dragonfly wings.

"Jade stop teasing Giaganto so much, I want a turn too!" A childish voice whined out and a second dragonfly man zoomed over. He looked almost like a mirror image of the first man except he had his hair piece on the left and different eye shape.

"My apologies Mx (Y/N) you're just so fun to tease. My name is Jade, and this is my twin brother Floyd." Jade spoke while doing a little bow. The other brother, Floyd, had a lazy grin on his face. "Hiya Giganto, Azul's been talkin about ya all the time!"

"Azul?" That name sounded...familiar. Where did you possibly hear that name from? The two dragonflies smirked at each other before turning to you with wide grins. "Yeah, he heard all about your little troubles Giganto!" Floyd said in a "sad" tone while circling your head. "Yes, your dear lost friends who abandoned you." Jade responded, making himself comfortable on your right shoulder. You were insulted at Jade's implications "They didn't abandon me... they just must have gotten lost." You finished your sentence not too confidently. The twins caught onto that and grinned deviously at the other. "Lost indeed but not forever." Jade responded sitting elegantly on your shoulder.

"You know where they are?" You asked hesitantly, not fully trusting the twin dragonflies. Floyd stopped zipping around your head and settled on your left shoulder. "Not us but Azul knows, he knows everything you could ever want to know." There was that name again that you were having a hard time placing where you heard it. "Could you take me to him?" The twins chuckled to themselves like you said the funniest thing. "Of course." They responded together, Chesire grins on their faces. You then followed the devious dragonflies to the place they led you.

You found yourself in the lake swimming towards the small "island" of lily pads. The water was murky and dark at night making it hard to see what lay at the bottom. "Come on Giganto, he's right here!" Floyd flew ahead with his brother Jade in tow. Lucky bastards got wings while you had to swim in your clothes.

Floating towards the first lily pad you could see the figure of a man spider hybrid waiting calmy on the leaf. He smiles as he sees the twins approaching with you following behind. "Welcome Mx. (Y/N) I've been expecting a visit from you." "You have?" The spider nodded his silver locks bouncing. "Yes, I do believe you have a problem. All with problems on this lake come to me." Azul's smile was practiced as he reached his arms up towards you to come closer. You lean your head down to his level. He smiles, satisfied with your obedience as he saunters closer to you. "Your friends have gone missing have they not?" You nodded. "Well, I happen to know where they are." You perked up at the spider's confidence. "You do?" Azul smirks at your answer and pats you nose affectionately.

"I know where they are and how to bring them back." He states with a businessman grin. This was perfect. Though Azul seemed sketchy he looked like he was telling the truth. "However... this kind of deed comes with a price" You deflated at his words. What could the spider possibly want? "I don't have a lot of-" Azul places a hand to your lips "I'm not asking you for money." His eyes darken with greed as he places both hands on his walking stick. "What I want is you." Huh?

"My what?" All three insects chuckle at your naivety. "Not any of your possessions just you. See I've been very fond of you for years now and I feel it's only fair that you fulfill your promise you made all those years ago." Promise? What promise? Your eyes reflected your confusion, which caused anger to cloud Azul's blue eyes. "You don't remember...after all these years of patiently waiting." He chuckles bitterly to himself and looks back up at you.

"I suppose it can't be helped, you're a busy person. I'm a busy person so I'll cut to the chase. Be with me and your friends can go back to living their normal lives. Choose your own freedom and well...your friends will never see the light of day." He springs the ultimatum on you causing your eyes to widen. "What did you do to my friends?" Azul glances at you in a lovesick way before planting a kiss on your nose. "What I had to do to get you back where you belong. With me." You glared down at that swindling. lying, no good crook. He stole your friends and lured you out here to become his giant pet. However, Azul held all the cards, and you were forced to cave into his demands.

"Fine..." Azul perked up at your acquiesce. "Wonderful! You won't regret it. I'll treat you so much better than any human ever could my little jewel." He then turned to his lackies and nodded causing them to fly away. "First my friends." You said in a demanding tone. "Already taken care of my dear. They've been returned to their beds as if none of this happened." Azul responded adoringly, stroking your cheek, causing you to shiver in disgust.

"What do you plan on doing to me?" You asked the spider who giggled giddily. "Loving you for the rest of our lives but first, getting rid of that height advantage." Azul pulled out a vial from his pocket and handed it to you. "I've been working hard to make this ever since I met you. It's a potion that will make you, my size." Great he was prepared too. Well, a deal's a deal. Reluctantly, you threw the tiny vial down your mouth. Nothing happened for a while before you felt like you were falling in midair. Landing straight into the lake. Without wasting a second, the spider greedily grabbed you and dove into the water. You were losing air quick as you dove deeper into the lake. He cooed over you as you lost conscious. Before you went out you heard him whisper.

I love you very much my treasure.

Kalim: Peacock Butterfly

The desert's an unforgiving place for many. You being one of them. After losing your caravan and family you wandered the desert aimlessly in hopes of finding them. However, each day grew hotter and hotter, and each night grew colder and colder. You were tired, hungry, and so very thirsty. Not only that but desperate for somebody, anybody to talk to.

You would sleep during the day in caves or even bury yourself in the sand. Then when night fell, you'd search once more for your lost family. At this point you were searching for someone, anyone to save her from dying of hunger and thirst. One morning the sun was so harsh that she couldn't sleep through the day. Why not carry on?

You were reduced to crawling through the desert in hopes of finding some form of shade and water. Scanning your small view of things, you couldn't find anything. You were losing hope and vision as blurry spots began to dot the corners of the world. That's not good. Wearly standing up you spotted up ahead an oasis. Was this a mirage? You didn't care as you used your remaining strength to run towards this haven. You had to make it. You had to make it. Your vision began to become smaller and smaller as the oasis grew closer and closer. You practically threw yourself onto the ground of the oasis and landed in some bushes. Safe at last. You could taste the water now. However, as soon as you tried to stand up, you promptly fainted.

You awoke lying on something very soft. Was this heaven? Opening your eyes, you saw you were on a very comfortable and stylish bed. The room around you looked like something you would see in a Sultan's palace. Heaven was rich. However, you were not alone as a woman wearing an abaya came in and made a low bow. This was already a little strange, made stranger by the pair of wings on her back. "Are you an angel?" You asked the woman. The woman giggled and shook her head. "Not unless the honored guest wishes for me to be." Guest? "Guest?" You repeated your thoughts aloud to the woman.

"Master Al-Asim found you unconscious and brought you here. He's been very worried for your health ever since." The woman took a cup from the tray that lay neatly on the bedside table. "You must be very thirsty." You didn't have to be told twice. You snatched the cup from the woman and greedily drank the cool and refreshing water. Felt like bliss having some liquid. The woman refilled your cup, and you drank. This repeated for some time until you were satisfied. You immediately laid back down on the pillowy softness of the bed.

Wait a minute. You shot up from the bed and stared at the woman. "You have wings!" The woman chuckled at your astute observation. "Indeed, I have." That response floored you. "How?" The woman looked confused. "I was born with them Master..." "(Y/N)" You responded. "Master (Y/N) it is a pleasure to humbly serve you." All of this was happening to fast. People with wings? Master? "You can call me (Y/N) Miss..." "Esmat Master (Y/N)." Darn Esmat was stubborn.

You two spoke for a while. She told you that the Al-Asim Oasis was the biggest Oasis in the desert. Supporting hundreds of thousands with its bountiful water. Since the Al-Asim Oasis was created and maintained by the Al-Asims they were the wealthiest and most powerful family in the entire Oasis. Their oldest son Kalim Al-Asim was the one who found you unconscious and brought you back to his family home.

"Oh, my I forgot to tell the young master that you are awake. Please forgive me Master (Y/N) it has been very lovely talking to you, but I must go." Esmat left leaving you unsupervised in your room. Well you guess you could just-

You heard hurried footsteps approaching your chambers followed by cries of worry from people in the hallway. A white-haired boy burst through the door. His red eyes lit up with delight as he flew over to you with a goofy grin. "You're awake, oh I just knew it!" Suddenly, your world goes topsy turvy as you collapse onto the bed with the energetic boy hugging you. The boy in question's multicolored wings fluttering with happiness. "Kalim don't crush them!" A voice behind you spoke another. This guy was part man part scorpion with long dark hair and dark colored eyes. "Sorry Jamil, I'm just so happy to see them awake." The boy sheepishly responded while still laying on top of you. This boy had no shame. "Um Mister Al-Asim sir, could you please get off of me." Kalim looked at you and smiled. "Just call me Kalim..." "(Y/N)" "Ooh cool name!" "Yeah, Kalim can you get off me please?" The boy looked confused before realizing he was still on her.

"Oh, sorry about that!" He then hops off and stands in front of you with a grin. He was practically floating with how fast his wings were fluttering. This guy was always happy huh? "How are you feeling?" The man behind Kalim, Jamil you think asks you. "Fine, just a bit disoriented." You answered causing Jamil to nod. Kalim smiles and bounces on his heals. "We should totally have a feast to celebrate you waking up. Jamil start preparations immediately." Jamil rolls his eyes at the boy's commands but scuttles off. Leaving you and the hyperactive butterfly boy alone.

"So those wings are real?" Kalim smiles. "Yep! Wanna touch them?" You nod as you are curious as to what butterfly wings feel like. Reaching you hand out to touch them you graze the top gently. Kalim hitches a breath. "Was that okay?" You asked worried you hurt your savior. "Oh yes it's just my wings are very sensitive. It felt nice though." You continued to gently caress Kalim's wings which caused pleasant shivers for the Al-Asim. The two of you stayed like this for a while before your stomach began to growl. Very loudly waking Kalim from his trance. "Oh, are you hungry? Let's check on Jamil and see how the feast is going!" The white-haired butterfly boy grabbed your hand and ran out of the room.

The Al-Asim house was practically a palace with many workers bustling about and completing their daily tasks. Many pointed and whispered at what an odd couple the Al-Asim heir and his "special guest" were. However, Kalim was completely ignorant to all that happened around him as he continued running towards the dining hall.

The dining hall was massive and very luxurious, you looked around to see servants bustling around with plates of food and placing them down at the table. Kalim urged you to sit beside him on the soft looking pillows beside the table. Excitedly Kalim began placing food on the plate in front of you encouraging you to taste a bit of everything. Asking you how everything was and becoming increasingly more pleased with each response. "It's all made by Jamil. Isn't he the best?" You nodded once more before turning back to your food eagerly. He then began asking about you.

"Where are you from?" "Huh?" You asked the boy who had stars in his eyes to repeat himself again. "Well, you're not from around here because you reacted so weird to my wings." You scoffed at his reasoning before smirking. "You seemed to be enjoying it when I was petting them." Kalim's cheeks turned bright pink at your words. "Well, you were very gentle with them." You chuckled at his reaction finding him cute. Friendly and cute. "To answer your question, I'm from the desert beyond the Al-Asim Oasis." Kalim's ruby eyes became wider at the knowledge. "I knew it! You'll have to tell me all about life out there." Kalim squealed focusing his whole attention on you. It felt almost like you were an elder telling the children tales about the times of old.

"What would you like to know?" You asked smiling gently at the boy. "Anything and everything especially about you!" You blushed at the last part of his statement. "Well, I lived in a caravan with my family, we never stayed in one place for long." Kalim eagerly took in the information you gave him. You smiled as you recounted memories with your family and friends on the caravan. Days playing in the desert, trading the goats you raised, and dancing around the campfire at night. The whole time Kalim stared intently at you with a large smile on his face. "I miss my family you know." You finished bitterly as the memories were all you had left of them.

Kalim's eyes softened with worry. "What happened to them?" You looked away from those sympathetic eyes in pain. It was bound to come up at some point, but it didn't take away the weight from it. "A sandstorm, the caravan encountered a great sandstorm. By the time it was over I was left alone, separated from my family and everything I've ever known." You couldn't stop the tears that began to pool in the corners of your eyes. It hurt so bad to be lost and alone. Dying in the desert didn't really matter as much as dying alone in the desert did. You felt a pair of arms wrap around you and Kalim's soothing voice hushing your worries and whispering encouragements in your ear. You went limp in Kalim's embrace, too tired to cry or do really anything anymore.

You woke in the middle of the night, feeling pressure on your chest. You looked over to see Kalim lying beside you with his head on your chest. What happened besides you breaking down, you don't remember. The haze of emotions clouded your judgement and memory. You tried not to shift to quickly to your feet, to avoid waking the boy. Speaking of Kalim, he looked so peaceful with a gentle smile on his face as opposed to his rambunctious one. Is this guy ever not handsome? Wait handsome, what are you thinking? A groan stops your panicked thoughts as the aforementioned boy opened his eyes sleepily.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing up?" He asked with a yawn. "I couldn't sleep. Why are you in my room?" Kalim hummed before snuggling back into your chest. "What do you mean, we're in my room. You were struggling in your sleep so I thought having someone with you would get rid of the nightmares." Well, that got your attention. Looking around you saw that you were in fact not in your room. This room was bigger and ten times more luxurious than your personal guest room. Kalim settled down right back where he was, drifting back to sleep. "Hey, get off me mister!" You lightly pushed away the sleepy man, who barely resisted it. "Nooooo, you're so comfy." Kalim whines while trying to crawl back to you. You stood up and walked away to the doors that led out to a balcony to get some fresh air. Hearing nothing but whining coming from Kalim.

The cool desert air felt refreshing on you heated skin. For a not so big man Kalim produced a lot of body heat. Looking around the Oasis you could see the lights of this small metropolis glow and felt amazement. Never have you seen a sight like this before. "Looks pretty cool huh?" Kalim surprised you from behind, he looked at you smiling. "Wanna see it from above?" You were already looking from a balcony so how much higher could you get. "You mean from the roof?" You asked the man, only for him to chuckle. "No silly I mean in the air!" Kalim states cheerfully while flexing his wings. He couldn't possibly mean... you turned your attention back to the innocent looking boy. His red eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he offered you a hand "Do you trust me?" Should you take it?

He did mean flying. You had excepted his outstretched hand tentatively. Wasting no time, Kalim picked you up bridal style and jumped off the balcony. You screamed in terror as you both plummeted towards the ground. There was no way he or his wings were strong enough to hold you both. Squeezing your eyes shut you expected to become a stain on the Al-Asim immaculate courtyard.

"You're not going to be able to see anything with your eyes closed." Kalim chuckled. You're not dead? Opening your eyes, you see both Kalim and you soaring through the air. Completely fine. Looking down you see all of the Al-Asim Oasis in its splendor. The glow of the lights in the buildings, the majestic fountains, the night bazaar with its multitude of goods. It all took your breath away. "Cool, isn't it?" Kalim jovially replied staring at your look of awe with glee. "Come on, let me show you the best part."

You stayed with Kalim after that day and the day after that day. Each day filled with excitement and new things to do. You really were starting to think of Kalim as a great friend, a little brother even. Even still with all the fineries and stability this couldn't last. You were incredibly homesick, which only got worse with each day. Sure, you had access to all the food you could ever eat, fine clothes, and servants at your beck and call. However, you longed to return to your family and simple life you had before. Then there was Kalim, sweet Kalim. He was sweet and cheerful, always wanting to know how you were doing. Always with you. Always. In fact, he became touchier and clingier with each day. You didn't mind that so much but were you wrong to want some time to yourself too? Were you wrong to want to talk to someone else sometimes?

These thoughts continued to rack your brain as Kalim ran up to you a threw his arms around you. "Hey (Y/N) what's up?!" You smile at Kalim and ruffle his hair. He eagerly leans into your touch. "Oh nothing, I was just thinking about things." "What kind of things?" "None of your business." Kalim pouted at your answer before lighting up. "Jamil and I were going to go to the bazaar, wanna come?" You immediately nod, you need something to take your mind from spinning any further. Kalim smiles and starts dragging you towards the door.

The bazaar was busy on that exceptionally hot day. Many people rushing around buying things from the multiple vendors. The scent of spices and savory meats filled your nose as you walked through, causing you mouth to water. There were fine rugs, jewelry, and beautiful clothes. That wasn't even half of what was there. Anything you stared at Kalim asked if you wanted it. "No Kalim I'm serious, this must cost a fortune." Kalim placed down a bag of gold coins like it was no big deal. "If you want it, you should have it, anything you want should be yours." Kalim went around buying out the entire bazaar for you which made you a bit uncomfortable. One because he was wasting his family fortune on you and two because Jamil had to carry all the stuff he bought. You needed to distract him with something quick. "Oh Kalim, I think there was a kebob stand a little way back. Let's check it out." Kalim immediately grins and runs off in that direction by himself. "Kalim!" It worked a little too well. Jamil groans and mumbles something under his breath. "I'm so sorry Mx. (L/N) but Kalim can't be unattended, so I have to go." Which led to you being completely alone.

Well, you're back to square one, all alone and this time in an Oasis. You should catch up to the duo ahead of you. That way you aren't completely alone. That way...no that way. Ugh, if only you hadn't stupidly forgotten which way to go. "(Y/N)?" Huh? You turn around to see someone very familiar to you. "Samir!" You immediately jump on the man in front of you. Samir was your childhood friend and even your crush. With beautiful long dark hair and light brown eyes who wouldn't fall in love with him. "We've been looking for you everywhere." Samir replies returning your embrace with as much vigor. "Well, I've been looking for you too! How's mom? How's dad? How's everyone? Where's everyone?" Samir puts his hands up in surrender. "Woah, woah settle down. Why not ask them yourself." Your parents were here? "Take me to them." Samir complied led the way.

Kalim was a wreck. He came back to the spot he left you only to find you had disappeared. No problem, you're probably just looking for more stuff you want. Wait you don't have any money on you! Oh no what if you get hungry? What if you get bored? He's not there to help you. "Jamil, we need to find (Y/N) now!" Jamil sighed as Kalim continued to freak out. "They'll be fine. You on the other hand need to return home, your parents are back today." His parents were back, today?! This was great news he could tell them all about (Y/N) and how great they were. Maybe even convince them to let (Y/N) stay forever. Kalim felt himself becoming giddy at the thought of spending the rest of his days with (Y/N). He liked them ever since he found them, but now it felt different. Anyone who brought up their name brought butterflies to his stomach.

"Kalim are you even listening to me?" Jamil asked the boy, pulling him out of his dreamy state. "Uh yeah, let's go home!" Kalim smiled happily to himself; he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

You were light as air. Everything was going your way. You were happily reunited with your family with lots of tears and laughter. Your mother and father almost didn't recognize you with the fine clothes and jewelry you were wearing. However, your face hadn't changed much so they embraced you happily. "My dear (Y/N) we missed you so much!" Your mother said tearfully as tears of joy streamed down her face. "I missed you too mom, dad, how's everyone else doing?" Your father grinned and patted you on the back. "They'll be doing better when they hear you've returned." You were eager to reunite with your caravan, but you needed to say goodbye to Kalim first. After all he saved your life and cared for you for all those weeks. "Mom, dad there's someone you ought to meet."

You arrived back at the Al-Asim house with your parents and Samir in tow. Samir wanted to join you to catch up with you and thank the man who saved your life. Each of your companions' jaws dropped when they saw the sheer opulence of the manor. "(Y/N) you didn't tell me they were rich." Samir said agog to the amount of gold and marble of the main building. You preened like a peacock, happy at each reaction. "Wait till you see the inside." As you approached the front door you were stopped by the guards at the front steps. You hadn't seen their likes before. "Halt! What business do you have with the Al-Asim family?" The centipede on the left spoke, his broad frame being slightly intimidating. "I'm a friend of Kalim Al-Asim!" The guards took one look at you with your finery and stepped aside. However, they weren't so lenient with your family and Samir. "Halt! You are not permitted to enter." Each guard holding a nasty looking spear at your family. "Wait they're with me." You pleaded with the guards, but they did not relent.

"No way they are anywhere close to your status my liege. Master Kalim should be out near the fountain." Your family sadly bid you go on your own, feeling doubt with their own worth. Samir on the other had barged past the guards to join you. "Halt intruder!" You grabbed Samir's hand and made a run for it. The guards followed you two as you ran to the garden where you hoped to find Kalim. The guards were hot on your trail being more built for running long distances than you or Samir. However, luck appeared to be on your side as you burst through the doors out to the garden. A familiar mop of white hair appeared near the fountain. "Kalim!" You shouted, causing the butterfly boy to turn around with joy. "(Y/N)!" The boy screamed as he ran to you with his arms outstretched. He grabbed into a tight embrace swinging you about.

"(Y/N) where did you go? I was so worried for you but I'm happy you returned! I'll ask Jamil to prepare a feast for your return." The boy continued to prattle on happily as the guards chasing you both ran over to where you stood. They grabbed Samir by both arms and were prepared to drag him out. "Samir!" Kalim turned around to see who you spoke of and stared quizzically at the new face.

"Hello, I'm Kalim, who are you?" The guard interrupts Samir before he can speak. "Master Kalim this rabble claims to be a friend of Master (Y/N), we're simply kicking him out." Kalim waves his hands signaling for the guards to stop. "Nonsense of friends of (Y/N)'s is a friend of mine." He walks up Samir with a smile on his face. "Would you like to stay for the feast?" Samir nods as the guards let him go. Kalim smiles and ushers you away, not allowing you to talk for another second to your crush.

The feast was awkward as Kalim had you sitting beside him, and Samir was placed on the opposite end of the table. Kalim was trying to feed you himself which led you awkwardly rejecting him multiple times causing him to pout. As the servants came in with the food they halted as two majestic looking older people came in and sat at the head of the table. You guessed they were Kalim's parents and went to bow low like the rest of the servants. The older woman approached you and took your chin in her hand.

"I must say Kalim you do know how to pick your fiancés, they're absolutely exquisite." You flushed at the beautiful older woman's compliment, feeling very small in her gaze. "Fiancé?" You asked the woman almost by instinct. Where did Kalim's mother get that from? "Why yes fiancé. Don't be too shy (Y/N) we've heard all about how well you get along with our son and approve of your union." The older man spoke from the head of the table, servants tripping over themselves to serve him food. "I think you've got it wrong, (Y/N) isn't anyone's fiancé." Samir cut in which caused the older couple to glare at the man. "Who are you?" Kalim's mother asked stiffly as she took a seat in her chair. "I'm Samir, (Y/N)'s friend. We came to thank you for taking care of (Y/N) before leaving." Tension was building between the parents and your friend. This wasn't good.

The shattering of a glass caught your attention as you looked over a Kalim. He looked as if his heart had shattered in his chest. "You're leaving (Y/N)?" Kalim whimpered out like a kicked dog, causing your heart to swell with pity. "Kalim, you didn't think I was going to stay forever. Did you?" Kalim didn't answer as he lowered his head. Quiet sobs began to rack his body. "JAMIL! Take this unwanted guest away at once!" The man at the head of the table shouted fury ever present in his eyes. Jamil appeared out of thin air and grabbed Samir, who kicked and screamed in protest. "Samir!" You yelled; this was getting out of hand. If you knew this was going to happen, you wouldn't have returned.

"It's alright dear, no need to worry about him. He won't try and take you away from us." The older woman cooed as panic filled your eyes. "Us?" The woman smiled and nodded at the man at the head of the table. "We've never seen Kalim this happy before with anyone, this truly isn't something that money can buy." The man stated turning the guards near the table and nodding. The guards grabbed your arms and restrained you. "We'll take you to his room so you can begin preparations for the wedding at once." Wedding? No, they had it all wrong. "Let me go!" You shouted as you were dragged out of the dining room and into a familiar room. You were roughly placed on the bed. You ran after the guards but found yourself locked in Kalim's room. This was madness, Kalim's parents were insane! You pounded on the door till you ran out of energy. Defeated you slumped onto the floor and cried.

You awoke to the sound of the door opening, it was Kalim! Maybe he could be reasoned with. "Kalim, you've got to let me go!" You begged as you clung to his robes. Kalim wasn't looking you in the eyes. "Kalim please! I want to be with my family!" He still refused to look at you. "Kalim?" You softly asked trying to see his face. You wish you hadn't. His eyes held the most lovesick expression you had ever seen. You backed away from the boy slowly, who only followed you till you were against the bed. This wasn't good at all. "Sweetheart are you okay, you look terrified." Kalim cooed as he pressed kisses against any exposed skin he could see. "I am terrified of you Kalim. Your family is sick!" You complained as you tried to bat away his affections. Kalim continued to stay there and embrace you, while guiding you to the bed.

"You're probably just tired let's go to bed now." He cooed as he gently lay you beside him, wrapping his wings around you. You were trapped in the crazy butterfly's embrace and wanted out. The more you tried to resist golden powder floated around the air from his wings. You found yourself becoming drowsy as the pollen entered your system. No you needed to fight it off you needed to...

"Sleep my love, we have a busy day ahead of us..."

I know my parents are wrong but I'm too selfish to let you go.

#yandere x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #insect #yandere kalim al asim #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere leona x reader #yandere kalim x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year ago

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Prompt for whenever you want it: the reader grew up in a household where she wasn't allowed to be very feminine/like cute things. Her family was adamant that she be tough and that anything remotely feminine or pretty would be wasted on her. So she secretly likes cute and pretty things, but has internalized all the things her family told her so she never let's it show. I would love to see astarion pick up on it and how he would react? I just imagined one day he presents her with a delicate handkerchief with her initials (he embroidered them himself) and I practically bawled my eyes out 😭😭😭

Idk why I really struggled to write this one. I just had a hard time starting it. So I'd write an opening, hate it, leave it for a bit, come back, leave it again. But I finally got it to a point that I am happy with it

Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader

Warnings: vague references to trauma, self-doubt, swearing

Word Count: 1,041

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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One gets quite good at reading people when that’s all you did for 200 years. Someone would twitch and Astarion could know exactly what they were thinking. Reading you was as easy as opening a book.

Every time you passed a market or merchant, Astarion could see the way your eyes flit longingly over jewelry or dresses. It was always brief. If the vendor noticed, they’d try pitching the item to you; the same old lines: “A beautiful necklace for a beautiful lady!” But you just smiled politely and shook your head, muttering how it wasn’t your style.

It was curious. Throughout your journey so far, he’d noticed other things, too. How you’d save the most beautiful, feminine dresses for your female companions. At first he just thought you wanted to give them something nice, but it was odd when you’d provide them an item much more suited to your strengths than their own. How your eyes would linger a little longer on flowers and lace gloves. But the moment you felt eyes on you, you’d turn away, the distant longing gleam in your eye replaced with a set determination.

He’d even caught you staring at the embroidery on his clothes once or twice.

(“Distracted, are we?”

“I was only wondering what it says. An odd poem for a shirt.”

“Hmph. Clearly it’s meaning is lost on you, darling.”)

So, with 200 years of experience, Astarion came to the only conclusion he could plausibly find. He accounted for your own attire - masculine or purely functional - your steadfast avoidance of anything feminine, the sorrow that visibly washed over you when you came across something particularly beautiful.

You didn’t allow yourself these things, because you couldn’t.

Well, you could, he supposed. But you weren’t. Perhaps, like him, you felt you didn’t deserve it. Or perhaps, like him, it had been ingrained into your very being that you couldn’t have it. Either way, the result was the same.

He wasn’t honestly sure what came over him when he realized. And it had taken him a few days to think about the idea that formulated unbidden, itching at the back of his mind in a way that put the tadpole to shame. But one night, after feeding (on you and a boar), he sat within his tent and got to work. He threaded the eyes of needles with practiced ease, steadily guided it back and forth through the material in his hands, creating elegant shapes. If he was being honest, it was some of his best work.

It took him even longer to gather the nerves to give it to you. You handed out gifts freely - armor, weapons, trinkets, blood. But he’d… well, he’d never really given anyone a gift before. Nothing as genuine as this, certainly. His mind, his own worst enemy aside from Cazador, kept plaguing him with thoughts of how you’d hate it. How you’d take one look at it, struggle through a smile, and tuck it away at the bottom of your bag. And so it remained in his belongings, safely hidden.

And then you just had to go and be so damn good. You just had to stand up to Araj Oblodra when she kept insisting he drink from her. You just had to quietly tell him that he could, if he wanted to, but only if he wanted to. And you just had to respect his choice. He’d never been so overwhelmed with emotion before. Nobody had ever done that for him. His choices didn’t matter, his comfort didn’t matter. But you didn’t even hesitate.

When you sought him out at camp later that night, you even told him he was free. No longer a slave who had to get on his back for mere breadcrumbs. Too many emotions - relief, fear, euphoria, worry, gratefulness - flooded his chest.

He cleared his throat. “There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to give you,” he admits with a nervous chuckle. “Consider it a… thanks, for what you did for me back there.”

He pulled the neat, white handkerchief from his pocket and presented it to you. Red eyes flit over your face, trying to read every little expression that passed, as you stared at the cloth. On the corner, embroidered in the same golden thread as he used on his shirt, were your initials. Immaculate and shiny.

Your mouth opened. Your eyes were wide, your brow furrowed and then raised. You struggled for words. You met his eyes with shock. “A-Are you sure? I mean, this is much too fine for me - I was happy to stand up for you - Not that you needed any help! I mean-”

“Darling,” he hushed. So you did enjoy it, after all. “It’s a gift. Consider it repayment for all the nights you’ve bared your neck for me, if nothing else. A simple exchange.”

A dying sound left your throat with a breath as you looked back down at the handkerchief. With shaky hands, you took it from him. You held it as though it was a religious artifact from the gods, not a folded square of soft silk with lace borders. It had the same smooth feel as running your fingers over the surface of still water. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes as you ran a thumb over the letters.

“I…” You took a shaky breath, looking up at him again through the building water in your eyes. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

He smirked, though your blatant joy made his lips twitch into the start of a genuine smile. “You… deserve something nice. Something more than, well,” he gestured vaguely at your worn cotton attire, “this.”

You laughed and brushed away the tears beginning to slip down your cheeks with the back of your hands. “You’re still a bastard.”

“Oh, undoubtedly.”

“But a nice bastard.”

“Careful, darling.” He leaned forward with an even wider smirk, fangs peeking out as a mischievous twinkle glinted in his eye. “We wouldn’t want word getting out.”

And if he caught sight of that little cloth poking out from a pocket or resting at the top of your bag, well maybe he let himself enjoy that warmth in his chest.

---

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preztee · 15 days ago

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[extremely biased Dorian romancer voice] Guys, I think we won.

I know it's more common to hear that Solas romancers won - and after seeing how much extra content they got (additional dialogue trees with the Inquisitor and a whole alternate ending with a kiss), I can definitely see why.

But that's the thing - I've seen Solas romancers utterly split on if they liked this extra content or not. I've seen takes ranging from, "oh, I'm so glad I finally got my happy ending!" to "what the hell? This is awful!"

I've seen people heaping endless praise onto Solas' characterization. I've seen people deeply upset over Solas' characterization. I've seen people who think the Inquisitor vowing to save Solas is the most romantic thing ever. I've seen people who hate how the writing portrayed the Inquisitor as hopeless, blinded by love, and shadowed by Solas' dynamic with Mythal.

Case being... the fanbase is polarized. Some people won, but some people lost very, very bad. I've noticed the latter with those who had Inquisitors that romanced Solas, but wound up angry and vowing to stop him.

So, back to my first point. How did Dorian romancers "win"? For lack of a better term.

Well, for one, we got more content than every other romance (barring Solas'). I'm mad on behalf of the other romances, but there's no denying we made it out VERY lucky in that regard. Could it have been better? Yeah. But honestly, in comparison to Hawke talking about their romanced companion, I feel like we won. Not a huge win (Warden Alistair's dialogue about the HoF was a MASSIVE win), but a pretty good victory nonetheless.

Romance wise we got: direct, in-character interaction that alludes to Trespasser's conflict with the anchor secretly killing the Inquisitor. Sweet idle dialogue from Dorian. An immensely touching letter from Dorian that logically concludes his character arc from Inquisition (with him no longer being allergic to The L Word!). And we even got a Dorian romanced Inquisitor implying that he's up in Minrathous enough to consider himself a source of information for the Inquisition.

Generally, we got: Dorian being written in character (this is helped by him showing up as a side character and not a main one... less questionable decisions), with notable development stemming from what was planted in Inquisition (working through emotional repression, abolition and enacting societal change, etc). The option to make Dorian Archon or not, allowing for the player to decide what future they want for him. The Inquisitor wearing the Shadow Dragon casual outfit and arranging meetings in Dock Town of all places. Both of them surviving to the end of Veilguard. Both of them working and fighting together in the finale to save Minrathous and stop the gods despite the Inquisitor's duties in the south. Heavy implications that Dorian and the Inquisitor have been talking off screen about Rook and about recent events. Vague timeline that allows for several headcanons to fit - like, are they married? Engaged? Idk. How often does the Inquisitor visit? Well, often enough to consider himself a direct source of information, but with recent events, he and Dorian have been forced to use the calling crystals and write letters over the course of weeks... so really, it's up to you.

What we didn't get: Maybe a dialogue tree during Rook's conversations with the Inquisitor. Uhhh, there's one optional dialogue response if you're too formal with the Inquisitor where he calls Dorian an old friend. Which Dorian also does to the Inquisitor in Trespasser. Literally the same exact wording of "old friend". I can't be too mad over a such a funny oversight happening again. In the exact same way. But this time easily avoidable.

TL;DR - We got a lot of wins, a lack of divisive content, and a generally happy fanbase. That, and the Inquisitor and Dorian standing next to each other. Oh, the screenshots to be had. The whimsy of it all.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers #dorian pavus #dorian x inquisitor #pavellan #oh god im blanking on how to spell the other ship names im sorry #the inquisitor #inquisitor lavellan #inquisitor trevelyan #inqusitor cadash #inquisitor adaar #SPOILERS #I'M BEING SO SERIOUS ! !

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sturnsdc · 5 months ago

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Scared to death

pair: Carl Grimes x fem!YN Dixon

synopsis: a lot of shit is going on in Alexandria, and Yn is about to face one of her biggest fears again when Carl gets hurt.

warnings: angst, typical TWD scenes, fools in love, violence, mentions of death, comfort, fluff, slight smut, character death, brief description of a near-panic attack.

era: (S6)

words: 9,8k

A/N: this one shot is part of a series called “feel special” !!

btw, Yn and Carl are 18 here

'm sorry if u see some grammatical mistakes!! ♡♡

dividers from: @cafekitsune ! ♡

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YN'S POV

everything had gone pretty shitty recently, after Rick killed Ron's dad, much of the group, including my brother, went on a mission led by Rick.

that meant that a lot of us had to stay in Alexandria to protect the place.

honestly, that didn't make me at all happy, since i prefer to be there with them fighting, than walking through the almost empty streets of this place, completely alone.

i haven't seen Carl since the morning, and i've been trying to find him for a while but it seems like the earth has swallowed him. However, when i was about to give up and go back to my house, i managed to see Enid between the trees, 'she seems to be crying.'

i decided to get closer, trying not to scare her.

“hey” i greeted her, seeing that my attempts were in vain as she got scared anyway. She tried to wipe away her tears, but we both know it's too late. “Ya' wanna talk about it?”

she remained silent for a few seconds, but then sighed and nodded, that being my cue to sit next to her.

“i just talked to Ron… we broke up, but also… i feel that anger in him. And i try to understand him, because i know he's going through a lot but… that's not Ron, you know what i mean?” i thought about it for a second, trying to remember the interactions i've had with him after what happened with his dad. I nodded as i remembered some of his erratic, angry behaviors.

“yeah, i know what you mean, but did he do somethin' to you?” i asked, worried.

“no, i mean, he got angry, tried to blame all of you, and said that your people had ruined everything... and then he started yelling…” Enid stopped talking, and i saw some tears coming out of her eyes again, so i hugged her, feeling how she trembled

“i'm scared of what he's becoming, i don't want him to hurt any of you” she finally confessed, between sighs and in a low tone. I tensed at the idea, especially thinking about who Ron's focus could be.

“he won't do anythin' to us, Enid, we won't let him, i promise ya” as soon as i finished speaking we heard screams coming from the streets. They were desperate and heartbreaking. A chill ran down my spine.

that sound... is the sound of death.

“run” i whispered to her. Then i stood up, taking her hand to help her do the same.

we started running, and i really thought we would be lucky, but we weren't.

one of the intruders caught up with us, and tried to attack Enid, causing her to let go of my hand and fall hard to the ground. I quickly took out my knife, burying it in his head without a second thought, however, before it fell on her i threw it to the side, looking at his lifeless body with pity.

i, again, took Enid's hand, helping her up. But apparently this attack had attracted attention, as i saw several of his companions coming towards us, armed to the teeth.

“Enid, i need ya to run to Carl's house without lookin back, i'll try to go after ya all the time but if ya don't listen to me anymore, ya keep runnin and if ya see him there let him know that i'm fine and that i'll be there soon, 'kay?" i saw in her face that she was going to protest, so i interrupted her before she could. “Come on, Enid!”

at my scream she started running, and i tried to go after her as much as i could, but they're fast, too fast, so i let go of her hand and started moving slower. She turned to look at me, full of panic.

“Yn…”

“keep runnin, Enid, please!” i saw that she hesitated, but decided to listen to me, making me feel some relief.

it was then that i stopped completely, being surrounded by all of them within seconds. However, those around me don't seem to have guns, only knives and machetes.

“well… shit” i said, and then the first of them tried to attack me. His movements were erratic, even senseless, so i was able to dodge his attempts to kill me, although i didn't escape all of his blows. It was then that i firmly grabbed my knife, burying it in his throat and feeling his blood fall on my face and arms. Then another of them came, who seemed very upset by the death of his friend, but it was precisely that that made him more clumsy, helping me to bury the knife in one of his eyes, which was what killed him.

i continued like this with two more, noticing how now my body (and my clothes) were soaked in the blood of these people.

however, one person is still missing, and he seems to have been biding his time.

i felt the first blow reach my jaw, it was so fast that i couldn't dodge it, and i almost fell from the strong impact, but i managed to stay upright, hitting him in the stomach. My blow seemed to leave him unable to breathe, but when i was about to stab him he straightened up and hit me in the eye, this time making me fall.

he quickly got on top of me, hitting me in the ribs, right where one of his friends had already hit me, making me scream in pain. However i did my best, hitting his balls with my knee, making him get off of me, falling next to me as he screamed in pain. Then i took advantage of the moment, burying my knife in his head.

desperation began to consume me, so i stabbed his head again and again and then i felt myself slowly losing strength in my arms.

then i saw one approaching me, fast.

but he didn't make it, since someone who seemed to be from the same group attacked him, killing him instantly. Then that person turned to see me and ran towards me. I tensed, but soon calmed down when i recognized Carol's eyes among that disguise.

"are you okay?" she asked me, agitated and revealing her face.

“yeah, i am, thanks Carol” i tried to catch my breath “ya look weird with that costume on, holy shit” i joked, watching her roll her eyes and smile.

“you should go to Carl's house, he's with Judith” that made me feel enormous relief, so i quickly nodded, standing up without remembering the hits i had received. It was then that i whimpered in pain, earning the attention of the adult, who looked at me with concern.

“it's nothin… i just got a little beatin here” i shook my head, trying to concentrate to forget the pain for a moment and reach my goal “thanks again, be careful”

i started walking as fast as i could to Carl's house, seeing how right in front of it there was a body lying there. It was one of them, apparently someone had shot him... twice.

i sighed at this, listening as a door opened near me.

“Yn!” it was him, he was shouting to get my attention, so i walked towards him as best i could, almost falling when i was in front of him.

Carl grabbed me in his arms, trying to be careful when he heard me whimper.

“wha-what's wrong? did they hurt you?” his voice was filled with concern as he helped me inside, closing the door behind us.

“there were five of them chasin' us… i had to get rid of them to protect…” then i stopped, looking around for the girl. “Where's Enid?”

“she left, i don't know where and i don't know when, i only know it was after i went out to help Ron.”

“ya kill that man in the street?” i asked in a lower tone

"he tried to attack Ron, so i shot him in the leg but then he tried to take my gun and i... i... shot." i felt his voice shake as he said that, so i hugged him tightly, trying to ignore the horrible pain i felt in the body when doing that.

we stayed like this for a few seconds, in silence, feeling the warmth emanating from each other's bodies until an alarming noise scared us. Carl, who had his face hidden in my neck, soon began to laugh a little, then separating himself from my body to look at me.

“want some cookies?” he asked me, turning to look at the kitchen so that i would understand that the alarm was due to that.

“you're a goof.” i laughed too, then i approached him to give him a short kiss, which was instantly reciprocated.

a couple of hours later, Alexandria seemed to fall silent again. But this time the silence was not accompanied by tranquility, by people enjoying time in their homes, or doing their jobs.

no, this silence was devastating, the kind of silence that exists after a catastrophe. I know this because it's the same silence that has accompanied us from the beginning, since the walkers arrived. Then in the fall of the camp, or at the end of the farm, also in the fall of the prison, and in every shit we've experienced after that.

i tried to ignore it, so as not to get depressed now when it's those here who will need our support to recover from this.

“i almost didn't see you today, i missed you and i was so worried when all this started happening,” Carl said, with his right arm hugging my waist and his left arm stretching out so he could take out one of the last cookies that remained.

we have been standing in the kitchen next to the oven since i arrived, eating cookies and trying to get rid of all the anxiety and adrenaline that this situation brought us.

“i missed ya too…” i was interrupted by the sudden commotion outside. Through the window we saw people running towards the entrance of Alexandria, most of them with worried faces. I turned to look at Carl, frowning just like him.

“i'll go see, you're very hurt.” when he saw that i was going to protest, he interrupted me. “Can you take care of Jude for me?” i stayed silent for a few seconds and then growled in response, watching as he smiled and gave me a little peck on the lips before leaving.

even in this situation i could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and my heart pounding.

fucking Grimes.

Rick had brought with him half of the horde they had tried to divert on that mission they went on.

Glenn, Nicholas, Sasha, Abraham and Daryl were lost, where no one could find them, and without communication.

the people of Alexandria, in a desperate attempt, try to reinforce the walls, but a voice in my head can only remember the prison, and how that same strategy didn't really work for long.

but i can understand them, so i decided to keep quiet and watch with Carl, who had warned me about this whole situation.

Judith's safe, luckily, but i felt that pang in my chest that made me understand that something was about to go wrong. That's why i haven't let go of Carl, hugging him from his side, feeling his right arm hug my shoulders and his head rest on mine.

i tried everything to distract myself, but nothing seemed to help, so i preferred to stay still, feeling Carl's scent against my body, impregnating my clothes as always and making me feel protected.

we heard footsteps behind us, and suddenly Rick was in front of all of us, being quickly surrounded by the people of Alexandria and our team members. I could only look at him from my position in his son's arms.

“you can hear it, some of you saw it. They got back here, half of them” he started to say “Still, they're enough to surround us and kill us” i saw the faces of the people of Alexandria transform into grimaces of deep fear and worry “i know you're scared, you haven't seen anything like this, you haven't been through anything like this. But we're safe, for now” he was silent for a moment, as if analyzing his next words “The panel that the truck hit seems intact, we already reinforced it, just in case. Either way, the wall is gonna hold together… Can you?” he looked at them all quickly. “The others, they're gonna be back.”

“they're gonna be back,” Rosita reaffirmed, nodding.

“Daryl, Abraham, Sasha, they have vehicles, they're gonna lead them away, just like the others. And Glenn and Nicholas are gonna walk back through the front gate after.” Rick looked at Maggie after saying that, seeing her nod hopefully. “They know what they're doing, and we know what we need to do. We keep noise to a minimum, put up our blinds at night, even better, we keep the lights out." Not far from us i saw Ron, he was staring at Rick, and there was something in his eyes that made me unconsciously tighten my grip on Carl's body, catching his attention.

"you okay?" he asked me in a whisper. I looked at him, taking a few seconds to respond, but finally nodding, returning my gaze to Rick.

“we'll try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard, we'll see if they move on…”

“this place is a graveyard” it was then that someone interrupted him. I saw that soon after Aaron spoke, but i couldn't pay attention, until he mentioned him, Daryl.

“i was out there recruiting with Daryl, and i wanted to… try to get into a cannery and scavenge. Daryl wanted to keep looking for people.” Aaron looked at me, it was a look of guilt “We did what i wanted, and we ended up in a trap set by those people” He looked back at the others “And i lost my pack, they must have followed our tracks. Those people who attacked us… they found a way back here because of me”

Rick said something to him, and i know more things happened, but i could only hide my face in Carl's neck, feeling his caresses on my back in a way of comforting me while i just sighed.

i'm not mad at Aaron for this, i'm just… tired. And i need to find Enid, i'm worried she's out there. I know what she's capable of, but i also know what people and walkers are capable of.

i also worry about others, i worry about the walls of this place.

but there's something that scares me, and it's Ron. The look i saw in him was so cold, indecisive, but dark. That wasn't the Ron who greeted us when we arrived, who made bets with Carl, or who showed us around.

without realizing it we had arrived at Carl's house again. I guess he helped me walk here, noticing my lack of attention.

“Carl…” i sighed, entering and walking with his help until i reached the sofa, where i sat down with difficulty due to the pain in my ribs.

“what's wrong, babe?” he was still standing, now stroking my hair.

“we have to find Enid, she's out there, alone, with all that danger…” i started to panic while i was talking, getting Carl to put his hands on my shoulders, getting my attention.

"i'll go, i'm not gonna let you go in this state, it will be more dangerous for you than for me or her." when he saw that i wanted to say something he stopped me "no, baby, there are no other options, you're hurt." he kissed me to prevent me from speaking. I just responded to his kiss, relaxing my body by having my mouth against his. He knew that would happen, because i felt him smile against my lips, and then he separated and kissed me on the forehead. “i'll be fine, and i'll come back without any problems.”

however, Carl returned just a couple of minutes later, angry and agitated, with his clothes somewhat disarrayed as well as his hair.

“what the hell happened to you?” i stood up and walked over to him carefully, fixing his hair as i heard him sigh.

“i saw Ron, i asked him if he knew anything, but we ended up arguing, he pushed me, i pushed him, whatever, he said he would tell my dad, then he would go out and look for me, people would go with him and someone would die.” He sighed again, angrily “He said something about saving me, i'm sorry i couldn't get any further but i can still try…”

“no, babe. 's okay. Let's wait for this to calm down a bit. Let's trust what Rick said and then we can both go look for her, 'kay? i'm sorry for gettin' ya in trouble.” he shook his head, denying.

“you don't have to be sorry.” he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling my body closer to his in the process.

i hid my face in his neck, leaving a few kisses there, knowing that it would take away some of his anger, and distract him from this whole situation.

he may know me perfectly, but i have my tricks too.

today Rick and Carl were teaching Ron how to shoot. I didn't want to be present, because i know that my entire body will be on alert if i spend a second next to him, so i preferred to take a walk through Alexandria, like the last time.

i still have that feeling in my chest, like something's about to go horribly wrong. I don't know what it is, and i really hope it doesn't have to do with Daryl, but i feel like it's getting worse with every passing second.

last night i stayed at Carl's house, but even in his arms i couldn't sleep. The pain was so overwhelming that i felt like i couldn't breathe, but i didn't want to wake him up for that. I don't want to take away his rest just because of a feeling i'm having. 's not worth it.

but now, as i walk through the streets, accompanied by silence, i can only think about the things that have happened and that can happen. And the pain gets worse, so i bring my hand to my chest, wrinkling my shirt as i squeeze it tightly. I can't breathe. I can't.

my vision became blurry, i feel like my throat was burning from my desperate attempts to breathe. I had to stop, standing in the middle of the street. My legs are shaking, hell my whole body 's shaking.

i feel so cold, but i'm sweating. The knot in my chest is getting bigger, more intense, i don't even remember where i was going, what i was doing before this.

i feel dizzy, my eyes open wide from the panic that consumes me, my legs feel numb, my fingers hurt, i wanna throw up, i feel my heart beating so fast.

'am i having a heart attack?'

i can't move, i feel frozen.

'is this how i'm going to die?'

'i don't wanna die, not now'

‘'n-no, i don't want to, it can't be happening, it can't...'

'I DON'T WANNA DIE'

“Yn!” Carl's voice brought me out of my thoughts. I saw his face, he's worried. He put his hands on my arms, trying to get my eyes to meet his. “Yn, baby, it's me, it's Carl.”

i tried to look at him, to focus my sight on him, but i feel like i can't, my vision is blurry, i can only think about how much my throat burns, how much my body hurts.

“Yn, babe” his hands went up to my face and i could finally feel his warmth.

i sighed, shaky, but i was finally able to focus my eyes on him. His hands wiped my face, and it was then that i noticed i was crying. My tears were hot, completely different from how i feel right now.

i sobbed when i saw his eyes, feeling stupid and strange.

“ 'm sorry, i'm so sorry” i sobbed again, feeling how he hugged me.

“it's okay, you're safe, i'm here,” he said, in a low, sweet, charming tone.

my head was resting on his chest, so i could hear his heart beating. That's what i heard last night when i was trying to calm myself down, but now it finally seems to work. My heart started to beat slower, but my body started to feel heavy, like i had pushed my body to the limit.

“i... i don' know what happened, i thought i was goin' to die, Carl, i thought...” i whispered, feeling his caresses in my hair.

“you're not going to die, i'm not going to let that happen,” he said firmly.

i'm still shaking, i still feel that huge pain in my chest, but my tears have stopped, and i don't feel so dazed anymore. I just want to go home with Carl.

but apparently life doesn't want that, since as soon as it seemed like i could calm down, people ran towards the gate again. Between their conversations i understood that Spencer had tried to leave, but clearly his plan went wrong and they had to save him.

i just sighed, staying still in Carl's arms.

“do you wanna walk for a while? then we can go to my house. Carol must be taking care of Judith right now, so we'll be alone.” i nodded, separating myself from his body so i could take his hand, following him wherever he wanted to take me.

his thumb caressed my hand, making me smile a little. He always does that, he knows perfectly well the little details that make me feel better.

'i don't know where he learned it from, but damn it works.'

we finally arrive at an incomplete construction that we sometimes use to distance ourselves from the rest. Almost no one goes there because it's a pile of wood with nothing “attractive”, but for us it is a good place to feel some peace, to get out of the house.

“we should find a place like this out there when everything is safe again, don't you think?” he said, leaning his body on a railing as he put his hands on my waist, moving me so i was facing him, just the way he likes it.

“i would like that, it would be like... our place, fer dates and to hang out” i saw him smile.

“i'd love that.” he brought his face closer to mine, but before kissing me he looked behind me, stopping his actions. I saw the sudden fear on his face, so i quickly looked back.

the tower…the tower is falling.

shit happens so fast.

when the walkers came in, Carl and i ran, tried to defend, and ended up in the same group as Rick, Deanna, Michonne, Ron, and Gabriel. There are quite a few of us, but i don't know if we're enough to get to a safe place soon.

we found ourselves surrounded by walkers, i had my knife in hand, and the others seemed terrified but ready to defend themselves. But before we could do anything, the walkers in front of us fell as a result of gunshots. Soon Jessie, Ron's mom appeared in front of us.

“come on, i have Judith!” she said and we followed her until we entered her house which was right across the street.

Judith quickly ended up in my arms, while Michonne and Rick carried the injured Deanna to the second floor so they could lay her down. On the other hand, i heard Jessie yelling at her youngest son, Sam, to turn off the music and draw the blinds.

'this whole thing 's a disaster.'

i walked for a moment with Jude in my arms, trying to stop her crying until i finally succeeded. When i did, i took her to the second floor, where the crib that Jessie uses when taking care of her is and i decided to leave her there, receiving a look of approval from part of Rick.

“they bit Deanna, i need you to tell them while we stay here taking care of her and covering everything, okay?” he told me, trying to seem as calm as possible. I nodded and went down, not knowing exactly what to say about it.

when i got downstairs, Gabriel, Ron, and Carl approached me, all with panicked expressions, and i guess my face isn't much better.

“Deanna…” i cleared my throat “she got bitten, so the others will stay upstairs to take care of her and finish covering the windows”

“oh God” Gabriel covered his face with his hands, walking away from us. Ron seemed to go blank, and Carl looked at me sadly.

i couldn't keep looking at them, not now, so i ignored the pain in my ribs and the pain in my face, quickly going to try to cover the first floor windows. Carl was the first to help me, and then the other two did the same.

'we need to protect this place, 'cause it may be all that's left for us after this.'

“let me help you, you're still hurt despite the medication Denise gave you,” Carl said, helping me place a dark blanket on one of the windows.

i try to forget it. It's not the first beating i've received, and i definitely can't remain useless and do nothing, not now.

i heard Judith crying again, so i looked at Carl, who nodded, letting me know that they'll take care of the first floor.

i took the steps two at a time and walked quickly down the hallway until i reached her. I sat next to her crib, on a chair in the room. I sat her on my lap, but i didn't know what to do, i didn't know how to calm her down, and that's when an idea came to my mind and i cleared my throat, trying to abandon my shame so i could help her.

i tried, i tried to sing softly the first song that came into my head, so with my sweetest voice i began:

“you are my sunshine, my only sunshine

you make me happy when skies are gray

you'll never know , dear, how much i love you

please, don't take my sunshine away”

i learned that song from Carl, and it always seemed to help Jude, so i tried my best, and she seemed to recognize the song, because immediately her crying calmed down, and her eyes began to slowly close. I could only watch her, unconsciously smiling at the purity of that girl.

'as long as i'm alive i'll do my best to maintain as much of that purity in ya as i can, Jude. Ya deserve a better life than this.'

i sang to her some more, making sure she was completely asleep before i could put her back in her crib. And when i did, i returned to the reality that was being experienced, because Rick and Jessie ran down the stairs, and i understood that it was because of a loud noise coming from the first floor.

'Carl'.

trying not to wake Judith, i left the room and ran down the stairs, reaching where the adults were gathered.

“Carl!” Rick yelled, and Jessie did the same with her son's name.

from the noises we can all guess that they're fighting, 'but why the hell?'

“Ron!”, “Carl!”

“Carl open the door!”

they continued yelling, until Rick decided to use his axe, breaking the lock on the door so he could open it. When he managed to do so, he entered the place, yelling at them to get out while the walkers entered through the windows. Then with difficulty i helped Jessie and the boys keep the door as closed as possible, until Rick and Gabriel brought a couch to help, although it didn't seem to be of much use.

“we need more, and we need to be quiet,” Rick said.

Michonne, who had just come down, offered to find more things.

“me too” Ron said, agitated.

“i'll help,” Carl said, to which i looked at Rick, who looked back at me with the same expression of distrust.

“hey, what happened in there?” he asked Carl as we continued to hold the couch.

“we were looking for tools and a shelf fell over,” he said, but none of us seemed to believe him.

“we heard yelling,” Jessie said in an accusatory tone.

“yeah, Ron saw them break the gates, we had to move. That's what happened”

“there are uh… nightstands in my mom's room, they can help with the couch” Ron said, approaching Carl. I looked at him with a frown, feeling my body on alert.

'if he touches Carl...'

“hey, it sounded like you were fighting,” Jessie told her son.

“yeah, we were fighting them!” Ron replied, going upstairs to avoid more questions.

Carl let go of the couch, ready to go after Ron.

“Carl, 's everythin' okay?” i asked him this time, searching his eyes so i could more easily tell if he was lying.

“yeah, everything okay” he barely looked at me as he said it, instead he walked up the stairs to follow Ron.

at this i looked at Rick again, tilting my head to the side, with an expression that let him know that i don't believe them.

“do you wanna go with them?” he asked me.

i thought about it for a moment, but i know Carl can handle it, even better than me, so i shook my head, denying.

“no, 's okay, he can handle it” i finally answered.

when we finally close that door we started to worry about the main entrance, because all the noise called out a large part of the horde, causing many of the walkers to try to destroy the other door.

this time we put in a mattress, and for a moment it seemed to work, but that's when Judith started crying.

“i'll go,” Rick said, noticing that i was about to go look for her. He looked at me for an answer, so i nodded, watching him leave.

the bad thing is that Jude's crying only attracted more walkers, complicating things even more, so Carl and Ron had to bring a table when the door gave way, breaking completely.

“Rick!” Jessie called out to him, noticing that our efforts didn't seem to be enough.

Michonne noticed the moment when another of the doors broke, allowing the walkers to enter the house.

“everyone get upstairs, now!” she ordered us, trying to give us time while she killed some with her sword.

“back off!” Rick motioned to us, so we all dropped our things and ran towards the stairs.

i watched as he and Michonne blocked the stairs with the couch, giving us a little more time to think.

i looked at the walkers, there were too many of them and they might catch up with us eventually. We can't stay in this house for long, especially knowing that Judith and Deanna are here. But we can't jump out of the windows either, because there would be more of them below, because we could fall badly, because Judith could get hurt.

'but what are the options?'

it was then that my head lit up, remembering a disgusting technique that we had already used in the past, and that maybe could save us now.

“Rick!” i called out to him, making everyone turn to look at me “we can use 'hem, take out sheets and use them. Ya know it works, it can help us” i saw him consider the idea for a moment, and then he nodded, looking at Michonne.

“i'll take care of this one, i'll leave you the one in the back,” he told her.

“Gabriel, go get sheets, we need one for each of us” i indicated to the man, seeing him nod and walk towards the rooms.

“i'll help him,” Jessie told me, to which i nodded, watching her leave after him.

"what are we gonna do?" Ron asked me, somewhat desperate.

“we're gonna use the walkers to smell like them,” Carl explained briefly, but he didn't seem to understand.

“wh-what?”

they already had the two walkers, so we couldn't answer his question, instead i helped carry the walkers, while Rick told Carl to stay guard the stairs and Ron followed us.

“i need the sheets,” i told them, watching Jessie come over with one.

"what are we gonna do?" she asked, watching how i made a hole in the sheet.

“we'll go to the armory,” Rick responded, somewhat agitated by the effort.

"how?" she asked again.

“we're gonna cut these things” Rick told her, in a rather simple way to tell the truth.

“we're gonna cover ourselves with the insides.” i told them this time, watching their faces transform into grimaces of horror. “that will mask our smell, we'll make them think we're like them.”

for a moment they were silent, looking at me in horror.

“we've done it before, 'kay? 's gonna work and 's our only viable option right now, so just bring the damn sheets,” i snapped.

“we'll stay calm, we don't draw attention, and we can move right through them,” Rick said more calmly, watching Gabriel arrive with more sheets.

“they're in the house, they're making noise. More are coming” Michonne told them this time.

soon the two of them opened the bodies of the walkers while i was in charge of making holes in the sheets. Once that part was done i passed three sheets to Ron and Jessie.

“everyone needs to put the sheets on, even Sam, then we'll cover ya. Whoever stays here will die.” i explained, watching them silently take the sheets.

a few minutes later we all had the sheets on us, including Carl and Sam. We were just finishing putting the guts in them so there's no doubt it's going to work.

“ya smell horrible,” i told Carl jokingly, helping him cover himself. He laughed and raised an eyebrow, looking at me mockingly.

“you smell worse” i smiled at his words.

"shut up"

Rick went to look for Judith, and when he returned i lifted Carl's sheet. We had agreed that he would have her hidden there. She had a scared expression on her face, so before lowering the sheet i gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“we'll be fine, Jude. We won't let anythin happen to you” i whispered to her, making only Rick, Carl and her hear me. She looked at me, and reached for my hand, so i gave it to her for a moment, squeezing hers gently. That seemed to comfort Judith, so she let go of my hand and let me lower the sheet. Carl watched me throughout the entire process, which made me a little nervous. “wh-what?” He just shook his head, smiling.

"nothing".

Rick then stepped forward, moving the couch silently, revealing the house full of walkers. Then Carl went after him, and i after Carl. We all walked in a kind of line, passing unnoticed among the dead until we reached the main entrance.

once outside we stopped for a moment to observe the streets full of walkers.

'that's where we'll be walking now. We just have to hold on a little longer.'

Rick took Carl's hand, he took mine, and i took Jessie's. We all held our hands in the order we left the house, and so we would have to continue.

i think i heard Sam call Jessie, but I really hope that's not the case. I know he's scared, but if he keep talking he can get us all killed.

'please, Sam, just shut up.'

we had been walking for a few minutes, now we could only hear the grunts of the walkers. My hand occasionally squeezed Carl's hand, receiving a light caress in response. It was his way of telling me to be calm.

suddenly Rick stopped behind a bush, making us all stop walking, drop our hands and look at him.

“alright, new plan” he whispered. “flares from a few guns aren't enough. Too many walkers, too spread out. We're not going to the armory. We need our vehicles back at the quarry” He explained, while Carl and i looked around, watching for no walkers to approach. “All of us drive, we need around them up, we leave, we come back.”

“okay,” Jessie said. “But Judith, to the quarry and back…”

hearing this, Carl and i turned to look at Rick, noticing that he was looking at Gabriel.

"i'll take her. I'll keep her safe in my church until you all lead the walkers away,” Gabriel said.

"can you do this?" Michonne asked him.

“i'm supposed to. I have to.” he replied.

Carl carefully handed Judith to Gabriel, and when she looked at me before lowering Gabriel's sheet i nodded.

“you'll be okay, Jude,” i whispered, pulling down the sheet.

then Jessie took Sam's arm and looked at Gabriel. “Take Sam,” she told him, but the boy immediately refused, scared. “Yes, Sam, it'll be safer.”

“i'm not leaving you,” Sam answered, and when Jessie was going to protest he spoke again, “Mom, i'm not. I can keep going” his gaze seemed to harden, making the woman sigh. “Please.”

after that, Gabriel said goodbye to us, assuring us that he would do what was necessary to keep her safe, and then he headed towards the church.

we had to leave again, so we held hands again, although this time in a different order. Now Rick held Sam's hand, the boy held his mother's, she held mine, i held Carl's, he held Ron's, and Ron held Michonne's.

we started walking, but soon the day began to go away, and with it the light. We were bathed in darkness, trying to guide ourselves with the light of the moon and stars, without making noise so as not to attract the attention of walkers. Although it had been a long time, i didn't feel tired, and i try at all costs to ignore that pain in my chest that keeps me on alert.

'i'm not going to fuck this up, not me.'

i wonder if the smell is still as strong as when we left, but the answer is probably no, because the blood eventually started to dry a little, and that's probably what made some walkers watch us for a few seconds longer than normal. But they continued on their way, and that's what made me feel most relieved.

but apparently not everyone thought the same, since without realizing it, Sam was also thinking about the looks, about the possibilities, and he began to be filled with a panic that soon exploded.

Sam let go of Rick's hand and started to back away.

“S-Sam?” Jessie tried to gently pull his hand to bring him back to reality, unconsciously also squeezing my hand. “Come on, come on, sweetheart? Sam? you can do it,” the woman told him, in a low but desperate tone, refusing to let go of her son's hand.

“Sam, come on,” she said

“come on, come on, Sam” Rick tried too.

“Sam, you can do this, look at mom,” Ron said this time, almost whispering, but desperate.

“Sam, honey, i need you to come with me” but Jessie's words didn't seem to have any effect, as the boy soon began to cry, sobbing loudly, beginning to attract the attention of the walkers.

“i want to,” Sam said, but he was still frozen, crying.

“i need you to be strong,” Jessie said.

but it was all in vain when suddenly a walker jumped on Sam, biting his cheek and making him scream, calling for his mother. The scene was horrible, and i started to feel nauseous just watching it. The walkers kept coming, biting Sam and covering his face with blood and bites.

Jessie couldn't let go of her son's hand, and instead she also seemed to freeze, crying loudly at the loss of her son, she even started screaming, and that was what made me try to let go of her hand. But i couldn't, she squeezed me too hard.

“Je-Jessie, Jessie” i tried to call her, but she kept screaming, drawing the attention of more walkers “Jessie please, come with us” i begged her, but she wasn't listening, she was just screaming and holding my hand tightly.

the inevitable happened. The walkers attacked the blonde, who didn't even let go of my hand at that moment, making me panic. I couldn't let go without attracting their attention.

Carl tried to help me, but that caused us to attract the attention of a walker.

“dad!” he called to Rick, who silently took his ax and walked towards us, repeatedly hitting the wrist of the person who used to be his lover with it. When he finally cut her hand, the force made me fall, bringing Carl with me.

what we didn't notice is that the gun Carl was carrying fell in the process.

well... apparently someone did, and quickly took it while we were getting up.

the sound of the gun safety was what caught our attention. We looked back, seeing Ron holding it, pointing it at Rick.

“you…” he said, and again there was that cold, broken look in his eyes.

a chill ran down my spine, and then Michonne's sword pierced Ron's body, killing him in the process. But despite his death, he had his finger on the trigger... and he clumsily fired just as the life was escaping his body. I closed my eyes for a moment, startled by the sound, but when i opened them, i felt my blood freeze, i thought i was dying.

Carl slowly raised his head, then showing that the shot had hit one of his eyes, leaving a hole of blood, blood that ran down his face as he tried to look at us.

"dad?" i heard him say before he fell. I tried to grab him as best i could, and panic came over me as i received Rick's help to lift him up.

“Rick, we have to… we have to take him to Denise, please” i sobbed, watching as the man carried his son in his arms. He didn't respond, but he started running in that direction, so Michonne and i passed him, clearing the path of walkers.

'Carl…please, you have to be okay, you have to be'

then i understood the panic i had felt these days, the horrible feeling that haunted me.

'i can't lose him, not him. Not him.'

memories of the farm came to my mind, when they shot him and i had to see him in that bed, not knowing if he would survive that.

i buried my knife in every walker that tried to get close, without even thinking about it, just doing it.

'i need him to get to Denise, i need her to help him.'

right now the beating doesn't matter, my ribs don't matter, none of that matters. All i care about is getting him help.

'he's everything to me, i can't do it without him.'

we saw the door to the infirmary open, Denise had seen us, she was ready. We let Rick enter with Carl, and after him i entered with Michonne.

ny face was wet from the amount of tears i didn't even realize i had shed, Aaron looked at me, worried and trying to understand, but i couldn't look at him, only at Carl.

“please save him” i begged Denise, almost in a whisper, and at my side Rick did the same.

Denise turned on the light, and although Spencer tried to complain she quickly silenced him. It was then that i looked at Rick, who seemed to be in a trance as Michonne removed the sheet from him.

as soon as i handed my sheet to Michonne, Rick seemed to make a decision, as he grabbed his ax and left the infirmary. Michonne yelled for him to come back, but he didn't listen.

i don't know exactly what it was, but something told me to go with him, to follow him, so that's what i did. With my knife in hand i left, closing the door and beginning to kill each walker that crossed my path.

i couldn't feel or think. My ears were blocked and my hands were numb.

there was blood, and more blood, and more blood. My body seemed to float. Nothing hurt me, nothing weighed me down.

every head of those walkers had the mark of my knife.

i don't even know when Michonne and the others joined us, i could only continue killing.

Aaron, Heath, Spencer, hell, even people came out of their houses, out of their hiding places.

Eric, Olivia, Rosita, Morgan, Eugene, Tobin, Carol, Tara, hell, even Gabriel were here fighting. There were so many people around us, when suddenly a fire started on the lake, catching our attention. In the distance i saw a truck, but i couldn't see who had caused it.

many of the walkers started heading towards the fire, but Rick yelled at us to not let our guard down, as some were still trying to attack us.

we gave it our all, we pushed our bodies to the limit to protect this place and kill every one of those damn walkers.

we ended up covered in blood, but we were all still alive.

'Carl'

then it dawned on me and i ran towards the infirmary again, without looking back, without paying attention to the screams. I don't even know how long we were outside, but it seemed like an eternity until we were finally able to finish them off, so i wasn't that surprised to walk in and see that Denise was putting a bandage around Carl's head.

" 's he alive?" Rick walked in when i asked the question, just as agitated as i was.

"he's alive, but he lost a lot of blood. It's gonna be a long recovery... and he'll need a lot of support from everyone. Things will be very different and difficult for him when he wakes up.” she told us, then looked behind us. “I need to move Carl to another room, but is anyone else hurt?”

“i-i don't know,” Rick replied.

we both moved Carl to the nearest room, putting some chairs near him so we could wait for him to wake up.

“i'll go thank her,” i said to Rick in a low tone, to which he nodded, still quite disoriented.

“hey, Denise, thank ya so much for savin' him…” i stopped in my tracks and my eyes opened wide. Daryl was entering through the door of the infirmary, and after him the others came with small smiles, looking at me attentively. “Dar…” i blinked a couple of times, and then i ran into his arms, being instantly reciprocated, although i heard him complain a little.

“i was so scared, i missed ya so so much” i mumbled, trying not to let the others hear us. My voice broke as i spoke.

“i'm here now, girl. Ya don' have to be scared, ya know i'll always come back” he told me, in the same low tone, caressing my back.

“i need to heal your brother, Yn, can i?” Denise interrupted us with a guilty expression, to which i nodded, separating myself from him and wiping the tears from my face . “Do you need me to adjust the bandages on your ribs again?” this time she asked me, making Daryl look at me with a frown.

“i'll tell ya later,” i said, then looked at Denise. “i'm fine, now i'll go back to see Carl. I wanna stay until he wakes up. Thank ya... again” She nodded, now forcing my brother to sit on another stretcher.

when i came back, Rick was talking to Carl, so i decided to give them a moment, but when he finished, he noticed me at the door, so he got up from his chair and walked over to me.

“i think... i think he's conscious, i don't really know.” and after saying that he left for a moment, leaving me alone with him.

i went straight to sit down, gently taking his hand.

“hey…uhm, i hope ya can hear me or i'll really feel like a fool.” i tried to joke, but my voice betrayed my nervousness. “i hate seeing ya hurt. I really thought i was going to lose ya this time, ya scared me to death” i sighed, bringing his hand to my lips, leaving a small kiss on the back of his hand “i don't know what would happen to me if ya weren't here, Carl, and i know that ya would say that i can continue, that i'm strong, but the truth is... that it would destroy me not to have ya anymore. Hell, ya can break up with me, hate me, but at least ya'd still be here. If that weren't so… i couldn't, Carl, i really couldn't.”

i felt his hand squeeze mine gently.

“if ya can really hear me, i want you to understand that i love you too much, Carl. And i don't care if i have to help you all the time now; i also don't care about the scar left on yer face. You're still you, you're still the boy i fell in love with, you're still the boy who makes me feel at home." i felt the lump form in my throat again, but i tried to ignore it. "In my eyes ya have always been and ya'll always be the prettiest boy, so don't try to walk away when ya fully wake up. Don't even try to tell me anythin bad about yerself, 'cause God, Carl, if i have to tell ya on repeat every part of ya that i like and why, i will do it even if it takes me a long time to do it, and ya'll have to sit there listenin' to every word" i moved in my seat so i could kiss his cheek. “ 'm gonna be here in every step ya have to take, in every advance and in every retreat. On good days and bad days. I don' care about anythin else. I'll be here for ya just as ya are fer me.”

i heard a noise coming from the door, and i noticed that Rick, Michonne, and Judith in her arms were standing at the door. All three of them were smiling, and i felt my face heat up when i noticed that Rick looked like he wanted to cry.

it's been a few weeks since the last incidents in Alexandria, and everyone's recovery has been a complicated process, especially for Carl, who's still trying to get used to calculating distances or following a fixed point with only one eye.

when he woke up the day after the event, he was crying with anguish, and the first time he tried to walk and hit himself on a chair, he didn't want me to see him, and i had to spend the entire day without being able to see him.

now things are different, he doesn't feel so embarrassed by things like that anymore, but he hasn't even let me see him without the bandage. I just give him the time he needs, and try to remind him how valuable he is.

yesterday i came back from a run with Daryl, and as a gift i brought him some comics i found in a store. I haven't seen him smile as much as yesterday in a long time. My heart was beating so fast, i even felt like i was blushing to see him smile like that!

today i promised to go see him early at his house, so now that's what i do, walk through the front door of Carl's house, going straight to his room, where a loud melody was coming from.

of course, since he found a player he spends his time listening to music in his room. Today's song was “More Than a Feeling,” accompanied by the hitting of a tennis ball that Carl uses for his pt, as Denise instructed him.

“hey” i stuck my head out the half-open door, watching as he quickly turned to see me, smiling.

“hey! come in.” and that's what i did, closing the door behind my back and then walking up to him while he threw his tennis ball on the ground.

his arms surrounded my waist, and mine surrounded his neck. Soon his lips met mine, and i sighed with joy as i felt his warmth merge with mine. I brought my body as close to his as i could, also tilting my head to deepen the kiss, hearing him grunt in the process as he did the same.

his lips are so soft, fluffy. God, i could kiss him all the time. His hands caressed my waist, squeezing it gently. Shortly afterward he separated a little. I could still feel his breathing, so i whimpered in discontent, wanting to continue what we were doing, but he just laughed lightly.

“calm down, babe.” he kissed my forehead. “Actually, i wanted to ask you something.”

“uh? sure, babe. What do ya need?”

“could you help me change my bandage?” he asked me, but before i could answer he interrupted me “you don't have to if you don't want to, i can ask Michonne, i just…”

“Carl, babe, i'd love to help ya, come on.” with my head i pointed in the direction of his bed, so he nodded, sitting on it.

"are you sure?" he looked at me intently, and i could see the fear, which made my heart ache.

“of course i'm sure, every time ya want me to help ya, ya can ask me, that's fine” i told him firmly.

“thank you,” he said in a lower tone. I know this is a big step for him, and from the way i see him playing with his hands i can tell he's very nervous, so i hurried to find the box on his nightstand that has the bandages, and the disinfectants.

after that i settled between his legs.

“can ya hold this fer me?” he nodded, so i handed him the new bandage and the alcohol. “Now i'm gonna remove the bandage you're wearing. If ya want me to stop at some point, just tell me.” and that is what i did. I carefully untied the knot of his bandage, removing it gently in case something hurts him or if any part of the fabric is stuck to his skin. Once that step was ready, i used a bow that i had on my right wrist to prevent his hair from covering the wound and complicating my work.

for a second i admired his face, and felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Carl is beautiful, not only on the inside, but on the outside as well. I'm always looking at him, but this time it feels different, more intimate.

“you're perfect,” i whispered, almost to myself, but i knew he heard me when his cheeks flushed. Even over the music he was able to hear me, which made me a little nervous, so i cleared my throat.

i began to clean the wound, disinfecting it and putting all my concentration into not hurting it or doing anything wrong.

“ya can tell me if ya feel like it's too tight. 's my first time putting a bandage on someone other than a Dixon, and we're not the best reference to practice somethin like that." i tried to joke while putting the new bandage on him, hearing him laugh at my comment.

“it's perfect, thank you.” i took off the bow and he took care of putting the things on his nightstand quickly, returning to the position we were in, although this time he took me by the waist and made me sit down on his lap “Thank you for everything you do for me.”

“i'd do anythin fer ya, Carl.” i confessed, watching the smile form on his face once again.

“i'd do anything for you too, Yn, never forget that” i nodded, feeling happy.

it was then that he suddenly kissed me, making me gasp. The kiss was intense like the one a few minutes ago, but this new position made me feel different. The heat little by little went down to the inside of my panties, making me whimper and move my hips, rubbing against Carl's crotch.

it wasn't long until i felt something getting hard, and then i knew he felt the same way i did. His hands helped me move, now messier. Small moans came out of me, and he took advantage of that moment to put his tongue in my mouth, making the kiss deeper, more desperate. One of his hands moved to my ass, squeezing it. But it was when i was going to unbutton his pants that we heard a voice.

“Carl!” Rick called him from his room. We barely hear it over the music. Carl pulled away from me, grunting and his dick aching.

"what!? i’m doing pt!” He lied, making me laugh lightly as i moved from the position we were in, sitting next to him, still somewhat agitated and feeling my panties wet.

“i can't hear you, come here!” Rick replied, so Carl looked at me, and i laughed when i saw the anger and frustration on his face, as well as his lips red and swollen from the kiss.

“go on, or he'll come for ya.” he sighed, getting up from the bed with resignation, and moving his shirt so that it covered the bulge in his crotch.

“when i come back you're gonna have to take care of what you caused,” he said, making me clench my legs as the heat returned to me. He seemed to notice this, as he smiled, and before leaving the room he gave me a kiss “be a good girl and wait here. Don't do anything” he said, and then went out to see what Rick wanted.

i sighed, flustered by what he said and my face as red as a tomato.

oh…and now feeling uncomfortable because of my soaked panties.

#sturnsdc #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes oneshot #carl twd #carl grimes #carl grimes smut #fanfic #fem reader #fluff #smut

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rahuratna · 3 months ago

Text

Synopsis: Five different perspectives on Nanami Kento.

Tags: Angst, humour, mystery, character study.

Warnings: canon-typical violence.

"I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful‚

The eye of a little god, four-cornered."

~ The Mirror, Sylvia Plath

Yoshinari remembers that day well. Even now, decades later, his team leader's near-panicked expression stands out with harsh clarity in his mind. Yoshinari had just mentioned that he hadn't finished the analysis due that afternoon because he'd been struck down with a bad bout of flu. Whirling on his heel, the team lead had really let fly with his irritation.

"But we had an agreement! You were to complete the analysis the day before yesterday! There'll be no excuse at all for us walking into that meeting unprepared!"

"But sir ... I had a lot to catch up on that evening. And I - "

"I'm done with this conversation! Come up with something, or explain to the chief why you couldn't finish your basic tasks on time."

Left standing in the empty hallway, Yoshinari had let frustration, anger, self-pity and helplessness wash over him, bitter as a brackish tide. Nobody ever listened to him. Nobody ever understood how the demands of this job couldn't be humanly met unless he practically lived at the office. Nobody cared what his state of health was. Nobody -

"Are you all right?"

Hastily wiping off the corner of his eye, he turned to see none other than Nanami Kento standing in the doorway leading from the hallway to the main office floor. Nanami, whose reports were always turned in on time. Nanami, whose suits were never rumpled, whose clients never complain, whose presentations were always meticulous, who never spilled a drop or wasted a crumb when he ate -

Tamping down the rising envy and resentment for the tall man standing before him, Yoshinari sighed and embraced the inevitable. It isn't Nanami's fault. Nanami is simply doing the job, like the rest of them. He just happened to be a lot more competent at it than most.

"I'm a bit ... under the weather, that's all. There's a meeting this afternoon. I won't be prepared because I haven't had time to get the quarterly analysis done."

Nanami watched him in silence. Yoshinari continued, chest feeling slightly less heavy as he vented to his quiet companion.

"I just wish ... that we were given more value, you know? We're not robots. We're people. And sometimes, we ... I can't get all my tasks done. I just wanted ... some understanding. That's all."

Yoshinari realized just how petulant he sounded the more he spoke. His voice trailed off, and he avoided the other man's gaze. What must Nanami think of someone like him? Did he pity him? Was he annoyed by him and his complaining? Was he indifferent, like everyone else? It was hard to tell.

Nanami never lost his composure, never expressed strong emotion, never seemed anything other than cool and detached. He must think that someone like Yoshinari was worthy of pity and contempt. Nothing more.

Without waiting for Nanami's reply, Yoshinari turned and made his way to the elevators, trying to focus on the client briefing lined up (and not the humiliation and reprimands he'd have to endure later.)

The humiliation never came, though. Walking into the meeting that afternoon, Yoshinari was met with the huffy, slightly startled demeanor of the team leader when he was complimented on his 'sterling work', handed a steaming cup of coffee and patted on the back. He sat through the rest of the meeting in a daze, mind still struggling to grapple with what had occurred.

When he got a chance, he snuck a look at the analysis that supposedly came from him. There, in the phrasing, the layout, the orderly sequences of figures and the in-depth breakdown of each element, he recognises the hand of Nanami Kento.

When the meeting was over, he tried to find Nanami, to thank him for that unexpected favour. A part of him was beginning to take the assistance with a pinch of salt; what did Nanami expect in return for this?

When he eventually spied Nanami, he paused, the report crumpling slightly in his hand. Coat draped over his chair, tie cast over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up and chair reclining, Nanami's hollowed eyes and sharply-defined cheekbones were covered with a white handkerchief, the marks of exhaustion clear in his bearing.

Many years later, watching his grandchildren chase each other around the darkened trunk of a plum tree, a soft, secret smile finds its home on Yoshinari's face as he remembers that day. He glances up at the delicate blossoms, pushing their heads insistently into the fresh bite of a new spring day and wonders if Nanami ever had grandchildren of his own.

Warmth. Kinship. Command.

When Master calls me out, I recognise the tug and relentless pull into another place. This place. This world of scent and colour and sound, where I am given form.

My Master's hands smell of paper, freshly cut apples and grass. They are firm and familiar as their fingers run through my fur. Sometimes, Master brings us out of the other place without urgency, simply to keep us at his side.

Megumi.

That is my Master's given name. He is dark in spirit, light of foot, and his mouth seldom curves, like the other humans. But when we are all together, pack, bodies curled up and sharing warmth, Master's eyes are like a distant lamp, flickering softly.

The white-veined one names my Master as Megumi. He is the one with power like a great summer storm, sweeping with acrid sharpness across the senses and scorching the unseen world in his wake. His hair is white too, his spirit leaping from one focus to the next, lightning and laughter.

The white-veined one is trustworthy. He is pack, but even though Master trusts him completely, he makes others nervous.

And then, there is the Blademaster. This one is almost familiar. He is like Master in many ways. He smells of good food, old leather and the sharp tang of polished metal. His power is an underground river, swift and subtle, rising to a well-controlled roar when he calls upon it.

The Blademaster avoids pack. He likes to sit alone on the benches at sunset, sometimes, with his food in an oval box at his side. He stares a lot into the sky. Only he knows what he sees there.

The sky doesn't hold much interest for me, but the smells from the Blademaster's box always call for attention. He has meat in there. And cheese. Sometimes, if I press my nose into his hand, he shares his food. It is good food. It tastes better when he offers it out of his own palm.

The Blademaster's hand is bigger, rougher around the fingers than Master's. He is an experienced warrior, and he has been in many fights. The scent of it is on him, in ways that cannot be disguised. He carries the smell of old wounds, of battles that etched away at the parts of him than leave no visible scars.

Sometimes, his pain is great. Those times, he needs pack, even if he doesn't know it. I find him, at his bench. Even though he has no food, I sit with him. His fingers in my fur are different, but warm, like Master's.

We watch the sky together.

It's the bustle of the lunch rush that brings him suddenly into her mind; tall, broad-shouldered, imposing in his dark, pinstripe suit. She's seen many, many salarymen enter her establishment over the years, but none quite like him.

He'd seemed hard, humourless, exacting, a man of substance and character, whittled away bit by bit by the hundred inconveniences and troubles of everyday life. Her attempts to cheer him up always fell flat. Her jokes landed like stale bread on a food critic's plate.

"Hey, Nanami! Good to see you! Decided to loaf around on your lunch break again?"

"How am I loafing?"

"Ah, that was just a pun. You know. Because you come here to buy sandwiches."

"Do you charge extra for the puns? Because I'm not paying for that."

"Wow. So cold ... "

And on another occasion:

"Hey Nanami! Knock knock."

" ... "

"You're supposed to say 'who's there?'"

"Who's there."

"As a question, not a statement!"

"Does it matter?"

"Fine. It's doughnut."

"Doughnut who?"

"Dough nut enter the shop without checking out the specials!"

"Please just give me the sandwich."

Ah, those were good times. Maybe he did appreciate her silly attempts at humour on some level. She'd never know.

Sometimes, she wonders if she shouldn't have asked him for help. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut about that pesky stiffness and pain in her shoulder joint. There was no way she could have known what would happen next.

She recalls, with perfect clarity, the sudden change in his demeanour. The subtle straightening of his posture, the focus of that intense honey-brown stare, the way he'd looked at and past her, as if glancing through some secret window into an unknown she could never fathom. And then, he'd raised his arm, swung it in that swift, decisive motion, and her pain disappeared in a matter of seconds.

She still wonders how exactly he'd accomplished that. Was he a spiritual healer of some kind? She couldn't think of an occupation less suited to someone like him. All the same, she was thankful. She'd even packed a free almond croissant and coffee with his sandwich the next day, kept aside for the lunch rush.

Except, he'd never shown up. Not that day, or the next, or the day after that. Nanami simply disappeared from the normal routine of his life altogether.

Of course, she made some enqueries. She was somewhat concerned, considering how sudden his absence had been. What if he'd overworked himself enough to end up in hospital? It wasn't unheard of.

His work colleagues, some of whom also frequented the bakery, told her that he'd suddenly up and left. Handed in his resignation and promptly disappeared.

She'd never heard from him, ever again. It wasn't that she was upset or offended. Customers changed their whims daily. But with him ... something about it concerned her. What would prompt a creature of habit, like Nanami, to suddenly change his routine? There was probably a perfectly sound explanation for it, but it worried her all the same.

After all these years, even now, as manager of her own small dessert shop, not far from the original bakery she'd served at, she'd never taken the casse-croûte off the menu.

It would remain there, for the day he might come through the door once again, and she'd say it, just like she'd rehearsed in her mind so many times.

"Welcome back, Nanami. The usual?"

Pain. This is all that she thinks, all that she feels. It is all-consuming. It isn't like the time she broke her finger after a particularly bad fall when she was ten years old. Not even like the wound left when her mother died; gaping, raw around the edges, on display for all that looked her way.

This pain was, somehow, even worse than that. Pain that twisted and tore through the fabric of her, agony piled on agony, neverending. It stretched beyond her, into a night of unknown horrors that she had no means of comprehending.

Something was very, very wrong with her body. This much she could tell, even as she wove in and out of consciousness. The sense of change to her own form, of being maimed in some fundamental sense, was so strong that she wondered how she was still alive.

His hands. So cold. Pain beyond imagining. She doesn't want to enter that forbidden entryway in her thoughts. Someone did this to her. Someone made her helpless, controlled her. Turned her into this grotesque travesty of a living thing. She should feel furious, that this had been done to her. But she doesn't have the capacity for anything but pleading, begging for a swift release from this torment.

Something is shifting around her now. She cannot even brace for the agony, because there are no known muscles for her to do so. Her body feels like a shapeless, amorphous mass that changes according to the unknown puppeteer's will.

Now, she feels the brush of fetid air on her flesh, the dank, mossy wall of some subterranean feature, a dizzying sense of being propelled at high speed through a narrow space.

Someone is moving alongside her, dodging, weaving. Not the puppeteer. Another. Their movements are swift, strong, filled with a measured grace that dances around her striking, flailing limbs (if they can still be called such) with dexterity. She tries to fight back against the overpowering will, to stop any harm coming to that person. It is futile.

Another shift, her body stretched in another direction. And - oh! Air! Damp and rank in scent, something like a sewer, but never more welcome. Her senses had been cloaked, due to the current nature of her body, but now, she was aware of eyes, ears, nose, a budding mouth that opened in a soundless cry for help.

He heard her.

He was standing over her, feet braced on her alien form. A man in dark glasses and a suit, a strangely patterned sword at his side. The sensation of the strangely blunt blade cleaving her flesh as she hurtles at him is weighted, some kind of energy behind it.

He can cause damage to her in this form! He can ...

But her mouth doesn't work the way it's supposed to. She can't beg him, can't plead with him to end this abysmal existence that only serves as torture. The terror, anger, frustration and hopelessness have no channel by which to reach the outside world any longer.

No! Please! Help me!

Wrung from dregs of her despair, a single tear forms at the corner of her existing eye, rolling down the distended, distorted skin.

Is this it? Is this all she can summon?

But he sees it. His hand is reaching down, towards where she lies, helpless beneath his feet, helpless to the whim of another. His thumb is warm, so warm, as he strokes beneath her eye, dashing away the trace of the tear.

In the moments that follow, before her consciousness finally descends into blessed, blessed darkness, she memorizes the feel of that touch, the last thing on this earthly plane that she'll ever know.

For all her suffering, let it never be said that she hasn't known true kindness.

Gojo and Namamin. Side by side, they're day and night. Yuuji can see that, and often delights in it. He thinks about it now, as he brushes his teeth, one hand carding absently through the tangles in his hair.

Gojo operated on a certain wavelength Yuuji had been attuned to since the very beginning. Nanamin, less so.

When Yuuji really thinks about it, it reminds him somewhat of the recipes his grandfather taught him. Gramps's house was one run on self-sufficiency. There was never an excuse for slacking off.

Gojo was like the spicy miso ramen he'd learned to make, the one with the specially crafted chilli oil and the perfect ramen egg for topping. A wash of heat, scorching the tongue and throat, a burst of flavour that somehow lingered long after it had rushed past your teeth like a flashflood. It entertained, it sustained, it left you feeling warm and energized.

Nanamin was like bread.

Now, Yuuji wasn't crazy about bread. He was more of a rice-bowl kinda guy. But the baking of bread was something he'd never quite managed to get the hang of, to begin with. His grandfather eyeballed ingredients, kneaded with rapid, dexterous fists, added an extra pinch of salt here, or a splash of milk there, depending on the type and texture of bread he wanted. It was as if Gramps could envision an end product that Yuuji had no concept of at all.

Namamin had been just as difficult to gauge in the mixing bowl of Yuuji's experience. Practical, rule-following, collected and proper. Spontaneity could take a hike, as far as Nanamin was concerned. Not the kind of man to pretend to be dead and then hop out of a box when you least expect it.

Ha. Anyway.

Bread. That's the analogy he was going with, and the one he was finding increasingly appropriate.

Pulling on his uniform jacket, Yuuji felt the familiar tug and rumble of hunger ascend from his stomach. He tied the laces on his signature red sneakers and grabbed his backpack, heading for the Tech cafeteria for breakfast.

Thinking over it further, bread was ... a staple. It was not to everyone's taste. It was simple, filling, a great companion piece for more flavourful ingredients. And hellishly difficult to bake correctly. For Yuuji, at least.

Yeah. Bread. It was a good comparison.

Turning the corner, Yuuji nearly ran right into the current occupant of his thoughts.

"Ah ... Nanamin! You're here early today!"

"Good morning, Yuuji. Please be careful. I have a cup of hot coffee here."

Falling into step beside the stoic sorcerer (uninvited) Yuuji decided to share some of his thoughts, an uncharacteristically serious expression adorning his face.

"Nanamin, there's something I've been thinking about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I had to compare you to a food, it'd be bread."

A silence meets this statement. Nanami takes a sip of his coffee. Undeterred, Yuuji continues.

"Like, I love a good katsudon, but when it's midnight and I've been training hard, and I wake up all tired and my body's all sore ... I just go make a sandwich, ya know? Even when Gramps was in hospital and I used to get back from school, and oh, yeah, I sometimes forgot to buy groceries ... there was still bread. Just a loaf, there on the counter. And it didn't matter if there were no other ingredients to cook with, or anything, because you can't go wrong with a fried egg on some fresh, crispy toast. Ahh, yeah. The best."

Nanami adjusted his glasses slightly.

"Itadori ... is this your way of informing me that you find me reliable?"

"Huh? Oh ... I mean, yeah. But that's not all."

"It isn't?"

"Nah. 'Cos I baked bread with my Gramps, see? And it was hard to get right. But I did, at some point. And it felt ... great. And I never got it wrong again. And Gramps is gone now, I know. But when I miss him, kinda, baking bread helps me remember what it was like having him around."

Having said his piece, Yuuji folded his arms behind his head, marching peaceably alongside Nanami, lightly humming the theme song to the latest show he'd been watching. Nanami was now looking down, into his coffee. He didn't take another sip. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter than usual.

"I like sandwiches. Trying different fillings is something of a hobby of mine."

Yuuji nods, a light grin forming on his face.

"I can tell."

"Having said that ... I'm partial to fried chicken and beer on a Tuesday afternoon. It ... reminds me of when I was younger."

"Whoa. For real?"

"Yes."

"But Nanamin ... isn't fried chicken and beer the kind of thing you share with others?"

"It is."

"Hmmm."

Yuuji appears to give this some serious thought, before slapping his fist into his palm as an epiphany strikes.

"But wait! Let's get it together next time! I won't drink the beer, don't worry. I can get a soda or something."

"What - "

"And we can order the MegaBox deal that also comes with a medium pizza and cheese croquettes!"

"Yuuji - "

"Oooh, I'm so excited! I wonder what their pizza base is like? But hey, Nanamin, I've gotta run ahead. Maki-senpai's training with me today and she'll kick my ass if I'm late. See ya on Tuesday!"

All thoughts of bread firmly shelved for the present, Yuuji trotted further up the corridor and through the sliding doors of the cafeteria, pausing to wave at Nanami as he left his line of vision.

Yuuji doesn't get to see the small smile that temporarily eases the harsh lines of the sorcerer's face. It is fleeting, gentle, an echo of a smile he'd worn for another, long ago.

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer

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