#well it's stupid to kill the last heir without having her own

[bietrofastimoff23]

condal and his conviction that the whole book is "green propaganda" and that Alicent could have distorted a lot in order to blacken the name of Rhaenyra, led me to a fleeting dispiriting thought that after the dragon battle we would not see Aegon on the screen. we, the readers of the books, will humbly endure season 3 without him, wait for the finale 4 to see the triumph of our king, only to find out that Aegon never survived the battle and he died immediately after the fall 🤡

I don't think it would have happened in the show because it's too far from "propaganda", but even if it did, I wouldn't be surprised.

[maybeiwasjustjade]

The amount of morons I’ve seen on twitter that insist ‘a son for a son’ is still owed because Jaehaerys wasn’t Alicent’s son, so Rhaenyra somehow has rights to Aegon’s head is baffling.

Actually, scratch that. It’s not baffling at all, because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen such braindead takes from that side of the fandom.

Last I checked, Aemond killed Luke. Not Aegon. Alicent served up Aegon’s head on a platter, without even once considering that should Aemond live then Rhaenyra will come for his head too. And not only did she betray Aegon, Alicent’s actions may very well lead to both Gwayne and Criston’s deaths. And Daeron, who has done nothing but be born to her.

As for the stupidity of the insistence on ‘a son for a son’, maybe Condal and Hess should remember that the last time Rhaenyra sought revenge for Luke, a toddler was beheaded in his bed because of her husband!!! And if that son wasn’t enough—the poor, innocent baby son of Helaena—and a debt still needs to be repaid, does that mean Aegon now has rights to kill one of Daemon’s children then?

Same logic right? Rhaenyra didn’t get Alicent’s son’s head for Luke, but Aegon lost a son. So if Rhaenyra has rights to Aegon’s head, then Aegon has the exact same right to murder one of her remaining children yes? Baela maybe, when Aegon claims Dragonstone. Or Joffrey even, should he survive till the end. Maybe Rhaenyra can even choose and then watch, like Daemon made Helaena.

But that’s not right is it. Aegon would be a monster if he did that. No sane person would do that. No good person should want that kind of revenge.

But when it comes to Rhaenyra, TB will justify anything right? She indirectly yet directly causes the deaths of nearly 100 dragonseeds—oh that’s fine, they consented to being in the pit knowing they could die! She’s not responsible at all! It’s not as if she ensured they couldn’t escape right? The death of a toddler wasn’t enough because it wasn’t the right son, so of course she gets to ask for another too.

As if Jaehaerys wasn’t worth a life at all. Then again, what can be expected when even after his death, in a fight about his murder, she only ever refers to him as ‘boy’, ‘child’, and my favorite: ‘it’.

Rhaenyra was always going to have to kill Aegon for the throne. And that was at minimum, unless she went for Aemond too. Daeron I could see being spared by being given to the Faith or the Maesters. It was very, very, very obvious to anyone with even a shred of media comprehension (which seems to be very little given the amount of stupid comments I’ve seen). The issue is that she had to go on and make it very clear that Aegon will die, not for taking her throne or whatnot, but as penance for Luke dying. That is where she crosses the line. She can’t and won’t spare Aegon, but the least she could do was not be a lying liar about it.

Also: I never subscribed to the theory that Alicent will be the one to poison Aegon in the end, because I never considered that a mother would be so cruel to do so. She ruined his life; placed him on this goddawful path to war that he never wanted. The least she could do was not betray her own son that way. But after today? Not a chance in hell she won’t be the one to kill him for her precious Rhaenyra. I hope when all is said and done, and she’s locked in a tower for the rest of her life, she knows that it was all her fault.

Because F&B made it clear that Aegon had a legitimate claim. Is it a usurpation if by all laws and tradition he’s the rightful heir? The show decided to go the idiotic route of making it an outright usurpation. The Dance was inevitable in F&B. Here, it seems to have been caused purposely, with one of its leading causes becoming a major turncloak. And it’s sad really, because the Dance has barely even started. HOTD could’ve waited to make Alicent a traitor. Wait until the Gullet and Jace and Rhaenyra’s inevitable fall to madness, to make Alicent’s plea more realistic because it happens when the Greens look like they are losing. Instead, they did this. Unbelievable.

[agentrouka-blog]

Hiiiiiiii :3 I’m here with another stupid (😎) ask :33

What do you think of Sansa’s line “my father and I have other concerns” when she and Maester Colemon are talking about giving Sweetrobin sweet milk. Maester Colemon objects to Sansa’s demand that SR be given sweetmilk again when going down the mountain. She’s pretty adamant about SR sweetmilk even as Maester Colemon shows concerns about nosebleeds. Many have theorised this as Sansa knowingly poisoning SR and has been touted as the Sansa = villain (🙄) theory by the antis pretty steadfastly. Does Sansa know about poisoning SR? What other concerns do she and LF have? Is she actually poisoning SR or is she just irritated with him and wants him to shut up?

Hello!

Neither. She's genuinely concerned with Sweetrobin's future as Lord of the Vale, after GRRM has taken care to insert not one but two shaking fits into the previous chapters that leave him incapacitated and soiled, and which are generally treated with "medicine" just as harsh or worse, like high level narcotics, alcohol or leeching and bleeding. .

This stuff is rightfully seen as an improvement. He's awake, calm, not losing blood or ingesting addictive substances.

And while he hedges and mutters, Colemon never comes right out and states "It could kill him". He lets a distracted Alayne cut him off or trails off by himself. And he eventually relents, giving the appearance that his concerns are not that serious.

And Alayne is rightfully distracted. After a peacefully resolved siege against the rule of Littlefinger (guardian of Sweetrobin), they are coming down to spend the winter with Lord Nestor, accessible to the Vale lords (his future subjects who need to respect him) for the first time in a long time. And the descent itself is also very dangerous, as we will be shown.

“The Lord of the Eyrie cannot descend from his mountain tied up like a sack of barleycorn.” Of that Alayne was certain. They dare not let the full extent of Robert’s frailty and cowardice become too widely known, her father had warned her. [...] “It was too soon. My lady, you do not understand. As I’ve told the Lord Protector, a pinch of sweetsleep will prevent the shaking, but it does not leave the flesh, and in time …” “Time will not matter if his lordship has a shaking fit and falls off the mountain. If my father were here, I know he would tell you to keep Lord Robert calm at all costs.” “I try, my lady, yet his fits grow ever more violent, and his blood is so thin I dare not leech him any more. Sweetsleep … you are certain he was not bleeding from the nose?” [...] “Very well.” They paused at the foot of the stairs. “But this must be the last. For half a year, or longer.” “You had best take that up with the Lord Protector.” She pushed through the door and crossed the yard. Colemon only wanted the best for his charge, Alayne knew, but what was best for Robert the boy and what was best for Lord Arryn were not always the same. Petyr had said as much, and it was true. Maester Colemon cares only for the boy, though. Father and I have larger concerns.

(AFFC, Alayne II)

That's his future she is trying to protect. Not to mention, this is before she ever learns about Harry the Heir. Why on earth would she support poisoning him, when Littlefinger's protection of her depends on his role as Sweetrobin's guardian?

This is the same Sansa that is planning his new bodyguard crew in her TWOW sample chapter, who considers what his future wife will love about him, the same Sansa whose gentle care even Colemon acknowledges helps Sweetrobin calm himself without medicine. No, she is not knowingly poisoning the kid.

(Also, Maester Colemon may well be playing his own game, giving him antidotes or refusing to administer doses, depending on how you want to interpret the fact that Sweetrobin still suffers a shaking spell on the mountain, and the "vile" substance mixed into his milk without explanation.)

[alexanderlightweight]

Can we get some some more Trueblood heir Alec for writing wendsday?

How is everbody doing? I hope that this week will be less stressful for you than the last!

Hey anon, i went with star eater which is the alec trueblood sentient shadow au. i hope you enjoy it and that this verse worked for you!

Thank you so much for asking! the week was less stressful but more busy but i'm slowly catching up on all the things i'm behind on! (writing and laundry and i need to thaw some chicken)

-

Saeth: doing alright. Really sore and tired. Our wrist is killing us because host got into on tumblr (rping as if Pokémon is real) and killed our hands lmao (I’m plural and not the host of our system)

*they've also been playing the new zelda game and finally passed out after refusing to sleep so they could keep playing - lumine

-

Alec stares at his little sister and his something-of-a-younger-brother Jace and wonders exactly where everything went wrong. It’s one of the rare times that Alec gets to see them both and while he’s still getting used to Jace, he likes the other boy well enough.  Or at least, he does when he’s not encouraging Izzy to break the rules and be stupid.

“We’re not doing that.” Alec says, interrupting Jace’s latest attempt to form a plan. A plan that Alec already knows wouldn’t work. “Mother left us here with the understanding that we are mature enough to not cause problems or get ourselves into trouble. Are we not mature enough?” Alec gives them both the deadpan stare he’s seen Ragnor give to idiots and is gratified when they shuffle nervously.

“But hermano—” Izzy whines and Alec’s noticed that she only ever calls him that when she wants something, “LA is so boring compared to New York. We just want to see if the demons are different!”

“It’s daytime. The only demons you could hunt are in the sewers. I didn’t know you were so interested in sewer monitoring.” Alec pretends to brighten up and he starts to tap into his tablet when Izzy shrieks and tries to grab it from him.

Alec’s genuinely surprised.

Not many people dare to touch him and certainly not in anger, so it’s with baffled confusion that he watches his shadows pluck Izzy up and deposit her back in her chair.

“That was rude.” Alec comments, because he’s not sure what else to say. “I didn’t realize you were still a toddler, Izzy.” Because he honestly doesn’t remember having to deal with this level of entitlement since Izzy was two and refusing to understand what ‘no’ meant.

“I’m bored and you’re such a dull blade, Alec!” Izzy complains and she huffs and crosses her arms, “Jace and I agreed we were going to have fun!”

“Well, I didn’t agree to that, and this is going to be my Institute.” Alec reminds her, because it is and he’s not about to risk getting what he wants because his baby sister wants to act like a baby. “The portal to Idris is still open, you can always leave.”

Alec nods decisively and says nothing, even when Izzy’s face scrunches up and she sniffles or Jace sends him a dark, admonishing look. Izzy and Jace get to do whatever they want in LA, but this isn’t LA and Alec isn’t that nice. Ragnor’s taught him all about consequences and Alec’s not going to be paying the price for other people’s stupidity.

Also, Alec already knows that Izzy and Jace aren’t interested in hunting demons during the day. The two of them want to see the mundane side of things in New York and if Alec knew anything about the mundane side, he might be willing to show them around.  However, he doesn’t, and he doesn’t trust them on their own. Therefore, they won’t be leaving without supervision and his company.

“We never get away from LA and you’re being such a jerk.” Izzy complains and she looks about ready to throw her plate on the floor, something else Alec thought she’d already grown out of. “You never even visit me, so why is it a big deal if we want to explore here with you?”

“You know why I don’t visit you.” Alec tells her, honestly confused, “I didn’t think you also hated Robert.”

Izzy pales and Jace looks between the two of them with confusion hidden under his arrogance.

“There’s no guarantee Robert will survive a second encounter with my shadows.” Alec explains and he shrugs, unsure why Jace looks so distraught and upset. “Mother says he’s lucky he was left alive. If I visit LA, I’m going to have to see him and if I see him, there’s no telling what happened. So, I guess I’m asking, what changed? Because I thought you still loved him?”

Izzy gives a little, small snarl and falls into the back of her chair with a glower. “Fine, that’s not what I meant. Don’t be stupid Alec, I just meant you could loosen up. Learn to live a little and let us live a little, you don’t have to be this unfeeling soldier all the time.”

“Not letting you break the rules isn’t being unfeeling or a soldier.” Alec rolls his eyes, “it’s understanding that the consequences for the rules you want to break aren’t worth it. Especially when the only reason you want to break the rules, is because you’re bored and curious.” Alec waits a minute and then he looks at them both, “and spoiled.”

[marine-indie-gal]

Been awhile since I haven't drawn any Tabaluga lately, not since that I've finally got a chance to watch the Kristin Fairlie version online since I first found the Mackenzie Ziegler version from it's Alternate Stupid Title, "Ice Princess Lilly" only to fool a lot of people into thinking it was a Frozen knock-off from a Regular Old Dollar Store. Though it's still not a big surprise from Me for the US to give out some CGI Movie Adaptations of Kids Shows from an Old Decade under their own Cheap Titles like "Here Comes The Grump" to "A Wizard's Tale" and even "The Magic Roundabout" to "Doogal" (seriously, the last one sucked ass. Even though I haven't had a chance to watch the British version, I heard a lot of good things about the OG version of that Other Adaptation much better than how Weinstein butchered it with their own Pop Culture references).

So I had a small talk with my Friend, @djinarocks of how we loved Tabaluga and how that Arktos is one of our Favorite Villains of Musical Theatres (compare to Von Rothbart from "Swan Lake" and even The Mouse King from "The Nutcracker") after I introduced her to this German Franchise.

While that both Me and My Friend love Obscure Media a whole lot, we both ship Tabaluga/Lilli together as a Romeo and Juliet like pairing (since these Two Elemental Kids did reminded Me a lot of that Other Elemental Romeo and Juliet Movie made by Sanrio (not to be confused with the Pixar one that is)). During in one of our conversations, we talked about on how we wondered if Lilli didn't leave Iceland and started her own New Life up in Space if Arktos did raised her and treated her as his own Actual Heir (something as if his own Mother would've liked to have Grandchildren if the Son were to pass the Whole "Dictator" thing to his own Children like a Family Thing).

If you're one of the Fans who both love the Musical and the Show other than the Movie, you'd probably would know that Arktos created Her, only to lure Tabaluga in for exchange of his Fire (in which the 2018 Adaptation did by its own self, but without the Whole "Give Your Own Fire to Me" thing and replace it into having "One Last Hero to be Killed" scenario that made Arktos into a much more Sinister Creepy Dragon Genocidal Monster as an Akin Contrast to the OG Arktos). But since Me and My Friend had this "Thought" if Lilli didn't leave Iceland, what if Arktos had a different way with her? Something like raising a Heir and make them a Future Dictator for your own Country. If anything, that could've had make Lilli give her so much more character other than just a "Love Interest" (akin to the Movie's Lilli as well).

Basically, Arktos creates Lilli through Sculpture (but it goes different than the last one than in the show through a twist), instead of creating a Trap for Dragon Bait, he actually creates Lilli as a single heir of his own so that way she'd beat Tabaluga to rule all over the lands one day. After trying to wind her up with a Wind-Up Key, Arktos thought of a better solution by breathing her into Life to make her Real. He names his own Daughter, "Lilli" because after researching through a Book about Humans, he mispronounced the name "Lilith" (The First Wife of Adam) into "Lilli" and mistaken Her as Eve (Adam's True Wife) (because that's clearly how he created her according to some of the Musical's lore from what I can remember). Although while Tabaluga was deeply in love with Arktos' Humanoid Daughter, Arktos forbid their own love and didn't want to be a Father-In-Law to his own Arch-Nemesis (whose the Son of his First Enemy).

Teaching his own Child everything about Iceland Life, Lilli was somehow fascinated by the World of Greenland and wanted to explore around Other Countries instead invading to in which, She and Her Father have a Huge Conflict about. Unlike the Movie's Lilli, this AU Lilli has more personality than the one in the show of her single appearance; She is more Meek and Shy with a Quiet Personality but is still Curious about the Entire World that she demands to ask a Whole Lot of Questions (even if her Father dares to answer one of them). Despite their own disagreements, Arktos loved his own Daughter deeply similar to how his own Mother passed on her Son's Spoiled Love to Another (even James would still have to be Lilli's own Manny whenever his Penguin Butler would have to keep an eye on her whenever the Father's not around).

When Tabaluga got over his own crush for her after their first meeting, he basically decided on how to teach Lilli to be more "Independent" whenever she'd come and visit Greenland (either with or without her own Father), even with the help of her own Friends. Although that while most of the Greenlanders didn't like Lilli at first, the Ice Princess then expand more of her Kindness to her Surroundings as throughout her own Arc between Seasons 2-3, She and Tabaluga develop more of their Romance (instead of having a Rushed One). After the Frozen Defeat of Arktos, Lilli then decides for her own life that it is best to join her own Boyfriend and become the Rulers of both their own Lands after a Long Journey ahead of having Each of The Four Seasons be released every year as they start their own New Life together, thus, ending their own Families' hate feud.

I've probably should've had put this in my version of Tabaluga but oh well, at least this is probably from a Simple AU where if Lilli did had more Character than just being the Main Character's Love Interest. 🤷‍♀️

BTW, when I finally got a chance to watch the First English Dub Movie online, I was so Happy that I got a chance to seeing the Scene where Tabaluga and Lilli sing their own Love for Each Other from one of the Musicals and let me tell you it was sooooooo Adorable to see Tabaluga and Lilli's love for each other, which makes my Love for the Both of Them even more 🥰

And while that I still haven't checked out the Rest of the Musicals and their Songs (since I still can't understand German as Someone who wishes to learn more about Any Foreign Language for the Same Person who watches Foreign Cartoons all the time), I did try out the Original versions for "Devil In White" and "I'm Feeling You" as I still need to practice more of my own Tabaluga homework. XP

I was also afraid on how I would deal with my own first time drawing with Canon Arktos after doing my own version of Him (since his Left Arm was a bit hard for Me), but I think I nailed it after trying to draw out their own Canon Designs from the Franchise.

Arktos and Lilli (c) Peter Maffay, Rolf Zuckowski, and Gregor Rottschalk.

[aitchnkay]

Jiang Gunian Made A Change Part 7

“You weren’t joking about that talisman,” Jin ZiXuan grumbled. He and his disciples were the last group to reach what was hopefully going to be their safe haven for the next few months. “Luo QingYang activated her talisman while we were discussing logistics. I looked away because my horse nudged me, and she was gone.”

Wei WuXian grinned, unrepentant. “I did say it was imperceptible to every spiritual tracker I know of. You thought I would leave the ability for someone to just... follow you by watching you? How stupid do you think I am? You did still see her, you know. Your brain just... sort of... was told to ignore what it was seeing or something. There’s no way I wanted anyone from your families or a Wen spy to be able to track us.” Jiang YanLi sadly noted that her brother did not consider himself a part of the��‘your’ in ‘your families’. For a long moment, anger at her mother and father burned deep in her chest. It would have been so easy to make Wei WuXian a legal part of her family without disinheriting her other brother.

“You mean we could have used our swords and flown here?” Lan XiChen didn’t shout, but he spoke in a tone that dictated one should perceive it as such.

“I never said you had to walk, Lan Gongzi,” Wei WuXian looked insulted.

“Enough,” Jiang YanLi tried to soothe her brother’s and the Lan’s hurts. “We’re all here now. Jin Gongzi, you and your cohort will be over there.” She pointed to a series of houses with the Jin flag already waving from the roofs. “Please take care of the spaces as we’re renting them from the locals.”

“Renting?” Jin ZiXuan had a look of distaste on his face.

“You may try to purchase them if you would prefer.” Jiang YanLi retorted. “Please excuse me,” she said in a gentler tone. “I have to see about dinner.”

She didn’t. Not yet. They would be having fish again, as they would probably be having fish as their main source of meat for a long time. And fish didn’t take long to marinate or to cook. Instead of walking to the kitchen, she detoured to the beach and let the sand and wind and waves wash over her and release her tension. Well, the sound of the waves; she stayed well behind the tide line.

A few days later, a Lotus Pier disciple flew in to the camp. “Jiang Guniang, Jiang Gongzi... the letter arrived.” He handed over a piece of paper. “I was able to make a copy before I activated the talisman.”

Jiang YanLi read it, almost dispassionately, then handed it to her younger brother. “I assume the other sects are receiving the same message,” she sighed.

Lan XiChen read the letter next, then Jin ZiXuan. “I honestly thought....” the latter sputtered. “I honestly thought this whole....” he waved a hand at the small coastal town now bursting with cultivators, and let his voice trail off. “I didn’t think the threat was real.”

“It’s very real,” Jiang YanLi kept her gaze steady. “Lan Gongzi? I assume you also left someone to report back to you?”

“Of course I did,” the sect heir replied. “Assurance that your warning was real, and that Cloud Recesses is as protected as we could make it. The library contents and major artifacts were moved to a new, heavily protected, location along with everyone who isn’t a fighter. Cloud Recesses may burn as you said it would. Our people will survive.”

It would be another week before a Lan Cultivator stumbled into the village. “Lan ZongZhu... Cloud Recesses has been destroyed. Fifteen senior disciples were captured and take for indoctrination. Forty-three disciples were killed, including your father. Lan Qiren remains safe with the rest of the sect. Fifty-one disciples were allowed to live and rebuild after swearing allegiance to QishanWen.”

“Forty-three,” the newest sect leader sighed. “More than I hoped for, but less than I feared. Who led the attack?”

“Wen Xu.”

Lan XiChen looked at Jiang YanLi, who raised her chin and looked right back. “The fifteen who were taken?” he asked his disciple.

“They did not take their own swords with them to the indoctrination center, as you requested. We exchanged their swords with ones from the dead.”

“Excellent.” He bowed slightly. “Please excuse me. I wish to mourn my... our dead.”

Nie HuaiSang cocked his head as the Lan sect leader disappeared into one of the houses. “It appears we are at war.”

“It appears so, Nie Gongzi,” Jiang YanLi agreed.

[corpocyborg]

Secure Your Soul: A Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfiction

This fic was previously published under the title "Before the Event Horizon."

Summary: Six months ago, V's boss at Arasaka ordered her to assassinate his rival. Instead, with the reluctant but invaluable help of her old friend Jackie Welles, she pushed them both off their thrones and claimed one for herself. Now the new Director of Arasaka Counter Intel has a problem. She's uncovered information that indicates that Yorinobu Arasaka, the heir apparent to the Arasaka dynasty, is a traitor. But without solid proof, she's forced to take matters into her own hands. An AU in which Corpo!V never leaves Arasaka.

CHAPTER ONE: BALLAD OF A POLITICIAN

[read on ao3]

V’s eyes were glued to her leftmost monitor, incessantly rereading the international regulations on lunar base licenses. Her right monitor displayed the bios of every member of the European Space Council; her center refreshed every two minutes with the latest reports from Frankfurt. Assuming the lead she needed existed, it was buried in one of these places. A regulatory loophole, a bribe or blackmail opportunity of a key council member—if there was some potential solution, she would find it.  

Without thinking, she opened her drawer and inhaled a cognitive booster. An hour had passed since her meeting time with Jenkins; she wouldn’t be able to put it off much longer. But if she couldn���t present an alternative idea to save the lunar base licenses, she knew he’d go through with his deep clean of the entire Space Council. V was unlikely to shed any tears over a bunch of useless bureaucrats, but Jenkins’ plan was a stopgap at best. They’d gain about a week, and lose more eddies in the cover up than that week was worth.

V used to admire Jenkins’ ruthless efficiency, but ever since Abernathy had fucked him over, he’d gotten careless. A stupid emotional reaction.

V’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, willing herself to come up with some new angle to try, when her stomach gave a sudden lurch. She brought up her biometrics panel on her optics display. Heart rate: elevated. Cortisol level: elevated. Daily intake report: 865 calories below optimal. It occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and she’d just taken… she counted the empty containers…  four cognitive boosters in the last hour? When had that happened?

She didn’t have time to consider it any further because another lurch forced her to run to the bathroom and vomit all over the fancy black marble sink.

—

She received a call just as she was ridding herself of the last bits of her breakfast. She hadn't intended to answer it right then, but the rocking motion she made as she was throwing up caused her optics to register her eye motions as an Accept Call signal. Which meant one of her confidential informants got an earful of vomit noises.

"V," said Jackie Welles. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," V gasped. "Just needed a breather."

"Sounded like you just blew your guts airlock."

V wiped the leftover vomit off her mouth and frowned at her reflection. "Yeah," she admitted. "I barfed."

"Job's gonna kill you.” The translator in her brain had shifted the conversation to English, but it alerted her that Jackie was using Spanish. She'd have guessed so anyway. He tended to do so when he wanted to make a point. A fairly ironic point coming from a street merc.

"Yeah," V said. "Maybe I should've gotten a safe one. Like you did."

"Hey, at least I always know who's shooting at me. Sometimes even why."

V was about to respond, when one of her coworkers walked into the bathroom. She didn't recognize him, but that was no surprise considering the size of Arasaka's employee count. When he noticed her situation, he paused at the door and stared as if unsure whether he still wanted to come in.

V felt the urge to yell at him, but that was absurd. Defensiveness in a moment like this would only make her come off as even weaker. She forced herself to smile in an imitation of graceful humility.

"Sorry about the mess," she told him. "By the way, if you go to the café on level B2, don't order the burrito."

The man nodded politely before walking into a stall.

"Bad burrito, huh?" Jackie continued.

"Look, Jack, is there a particular reason you called me?"

“Damn, V. Just checking in on you. No need to get all annoyed about it.”

“I’m sorry. Just caught me at a bad time, that’s all.” V exhaled, her muscle memory leading her through the neuromotor relaxation exercises she'd learned from her life coach at Quantified Satori. “We had a leak. My boss called. Dragged me in because we had to intervene. Everyone at Night City HQ is on edge.”

“But no way you’re fucked, right? You’re the one who fixes other people’s shit.”

V nearly laughed. “If you work in Arasaka Counter Intel, you’re always fucked.”

She checked the clock on her optics. The Council would convene for the vote within the next fifteen minutes. Her time was up. “Listen, gotta go. Work won’t do itself.”

“Good luck,” he said in Spanish again, then hung up.

V took a second for one last round of the exercises, then headed out.

—

She pretended to ignore the fact that everyone in the hallways was talking about Frankfurt, but, in reality, she listened eagerly. It was as good an opportunity as any to keep her finger on the pulse of NCHQ's emerging consensus on the issue. Most of what she heard was speculation and complaints, but even those details had value. Most importantly, the general chatter confirmed that Jenkins’ reputation had tanked as much in everyone else’s eyes lately as it had in her own. Not for the first time in the last few days, she wished she’d attached her name to someone else, and she nearly cringed when she overheard someone refer to her as “Jenkins’ girl”.  

About halfway to Jenkins’ office, a voice called out to her, “Hey, V. It’s been ages. It’s me, Frank. We met during Icefall. East coast, remember?”

He did look familiar. He’d grown a beard since she last saw him, and he’d installed some new cyberware, but you don’t easily forget an agent you used to do fieldwork with. Despite her tight schedule, V slowed down. Frank Nostra was Spec Ops, and there’d never been a better time to expand her circle of alliances.

“I didn’t know you were in Night City,” she said with a slight lilt. “How’ve you been?”

“Ah, you know how it is,” he continued texting as he spoke to her, but V knew better than to take that as a slight. More likely he was too busy to slow down. “A week ago I was still in Cape Town. I heard you’re in Counter Intel. Must have a shitshow on your hands right now after Frankfurt. Jenkins is your lead, right? Is he what everyone says he is?”

V decided to play it coy. “What does everyone say about Jenkins?”

“That he’s effective. Like any psychopath. Apparently, he’s gotten a little crazier lately.”

“Well,” V said. “He’s in an unfortunate position. He thought the director was planning to greenlight his promotion when the Japanese arrived, but she decided against it. I suppose he interpreted that as a betrayal. Even the best of us have been known to crack under that kind of pressure.”

Nostra stopped texting just long enough for her to tell that her insubordination had been noted. “I work for Director Abernathy, actually,” he said. “She’s really good. Came up with the whole Cape Town ploy on her own.”

“She is,” V agreed. “I’ve always thought she was an intelligent woman. You’re lucky to work under her.”

Nostra put his phone away for the moment. “You know, V, Spec Ops is always looking for new operatives. With our history, I could put in a good word for you, let Abernathy know if you’re open to a change in position.”

V smiled. “I’d appreciate that, Frank. I think it’s a good time to explore some new career opportunities.”  

“Ah, you do, don’t you?”  Nostra asked, his eyes narrowing. “Of course, Abernathy’s looking for the right candidate. Someone who knows how to appreciate being pulled screaming out of a raging dumpster fire.”

In a way, she envied him that lack of subtlety. He could only afford it because of his advantageous position over her. Still, even with a rotten hand, V always found this game exciting. “Of course. I think you’ll find working under Jenkins for two years has given me a lot of insight into his worldview. I’d happily share that with Abernathy.”

Nostra was already back on his phone. “Well, then I think we have an agreement. Nice seeing you, V.”

“Nice seeing you too, Frank.”

V walked away, now running later than she could excuse even in the most severe circumstances. Well, pretty soon it wouldn’t matter anymore. It’d be good to be back in the field again. The boardroom intrigue had its own appeal, but she’d been sitting in a desk chair so long that she felt eager at the thought of physical action.  

She passed through the security scanners in front of Jenkins’ door, and stepped into his office.

[horizon-verizon]

Do you think Rhaenyra should have ruled after she had fled from the capital? I mean, it is one thing to root for her when she didn't make that mistakes but after she showed herself a tyrant, I doubt any allies could have kept her on the throne. Everyone would have preferred Aegon III anyway. She dug her own grave, in short. No matter how we look at the reasons.

Probably a reaction to this POST.

Read this post, as well.

*EDIT*: This post by la-pheacienne really directs you to understand how Rhaenyra's story is also like a Greek ancient tragedy in that she turns worse from a past of being a morally-typical-neutral person. How, like I already pointed out from Othello, she becomes a tyrant and makes the decisions at the end, becoming a protagonist who ends first by others' acts and then her own.

If there were a better option, no, not really after Nettles, even with her grief (I explain why HERE and HERE). But if I absolutely had to pick on the pain of death since our only other option was Aegon II and the greens, most definitely.

You: "Everyone would have preferred Aegon III anyway."

This is not a democracy or a republic, anon, where the common folk or the nobles get to freely decide who gets to be their ruler or leader without going to war or using violence. This is a feudal monarchy. The Great councils that occur in this state only occur because the monarch allowed them to. There is a pattern of succession and specific transfers of power specific to the society here.

Rhaenyra was heir, and the war was fought on her behalf (not Aegon III or his siblings), so if she had won, she gets to rule in her own right as Viserys wanted.

You: "I mean, it is one thing to root for her when she didn't make that mistakes but after she showed herself a tyrant, I doubt any allies could have kept her on the throne."

Even after her death, her followers fought for her. Why? They took oaths to AND Aegon the Elder, of his own volition, was set against them anyway. The green allies were also outnumbered, with a weak and vengeful, stupid king. Finally, Jeyne Arryn was willing to house her, even if Rhaenyra left instead for Dragonstone for a new dragon (Before you go, "see! she even betrayed Syrax or something against her decision to go the DS, scroll down this post/quote for Sunfyre and Aegon's want of a "fiercer" dragon). So, yes, her allies would have been enough.

You: "She dug her own grave, in short. No matter how we look at the reasons."

Again, before Rhaenyra was born there were circumstances set against her. Jaehaerys made sure women had less power and were less considered for the throne through his refusal to name Daenerys, how he handled Rhaena, his treatment of his daughters (esp Saera), and the existence of the GC of 101 A.C. itself. Viserys never politically trained her. Since she was 10, her stepmother and her followers tried to diminish her standing in court and used misogynist principles against her for Alicent's own gain. Her first two sons were killed; first in cold blood murder by her own brother and the second fighting against those bought in by her usurpers. And 2 the very people who that son took in betrayed her. She watched as her dragon and last son died as the Dragonpit was attacked. The Dance account in F&B is an account where she's called fat negatively, slut shamed, and talked about as if she was evil or sexually undesirable due to a lack of female chastity even BEFORE she landed on KL.

Rhaenyra definitely made things worse for herself and made "dumb" (but actually pretty ordinary) decisions in her need to hold what power she had gained, but it also was not entirely because she was unstrategic that she lost. It's a combo, with one superseding and causing the other.

GRRM definitely made her too disadvantaged/unstrategic by not at least giving her more from Viserys or some more self-making moments with clear descriptions, but the point is clear: it is not simply or completely her fault overall that she lost--an indication of misogyny not only against her but the decline of Targ women in general, of which she (what happened to her) is the breaking point of the dynasty's height of power. She was really doomed from the moment she lost focus, yet placed in a situation because others have sought and fought to disempower her from the moment it was clear she was to remain heir even after Aegon's birth.

(8/21/23):

THIS is a great post by mononijikayu about medieval queens, female rulers, the history of how women in leadership positions were made and seen as threats to the very structure of social “order”, and contextualizing Rhaenyra thru Empress Matilda. I didn’t even know about Matilda’s husband being comparable to Rhaneyra’s Daemon! PLZ READ!!!!

Excerpt:

just as much, along with these fictitious portrayals, more lies are depicted. these women are considered vixens that cause havoc to men by shifting them into desires and danger. through the written word, we see how women are cast in roles of villains in men’s lives. it is because by their conclusive thoughts, women are the only creatures that are able to turn ‘good honorable men’ into despicable creatures who do shameful, deplorable acts for the sake of women’s pleasures.    [...] itis within this narrative that ancient chroniclers declare that women were in fact the doom of men. if they were not able to control the dangers posed by the wiles of women, then the foundations of the mighty society they had built would be up in flames.  [...] as i mentioned, these factors of community are written down and preserved. and with that, the example of the ancients were the foundations by which medieval society built itself. the same concepts continued to cause the same issue within society and that was the exclusion of women from participating in the bigger picture of community and state, much so with governing states in their own right—without judgment or disapproval. 

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 56

Cw:mentions of child sexual abuse, child murder, infanticide and liberal use of the word r*pe

Gif by @gojuo

Taglist: @stargaryenx @mercedesdecorazon

“Where were you!” his mother shouts at him as Helaena refused to part with Jaehaerys’ bloody little body.

He was four, only slightly younger than Rhaenyra’s Aegon.

“They raped my daughter and killed my son, and it was all because of you!” Aegon snarled at his brother.

His brother, the man who celebrated Lucerys’ murder, now cursed him for it.

“I want her dead. They took my heir, I will take hers.” Aegon vowed. “I will kill her, I will make her watch as I smash her whelp’s head to pieces, I will rape her myself and make her beg for death.”

Aemond hides his relief at knowing his wife is far enough to avoid capture.

“You won’t find her, your grace, your ever leal brother set her free.” Otto hid his smirk well, to think Aemond once admired the man.

“You only lost one eye,” Aegon repeats the words Otto had said when he returned from Storm’s End. “How could you be so blind?”

“I made him do it.” Helaena lies in his defense. Broken in her mother’s grief and yet Helaena is still the one to defend him.

“What?” he snapped to face the last person who would ever betray him.

“I ordered him to get her out of here.” Helaena doesn’t shrink in fear, she is silk hiding steel, a shame the steel is revealed in such awful circumstances. “A true queen counts the costs to her people; she is one of my people.”

“And now our son and heir is dead, our daughter ruined, some queen you are, sweet sister.” Aegon sneered and Helaena did not even flinch at his words.

----

“You are a son to me, your highness. I would hope you tell me why you compromised yourself and your family by aiding her escape.” Cole spoke true, he was the closest thing to a father to him.

A father who encourages his violence and resentment, and yet still a better father than the king.

Besides, everyone could easily guess why Aemond did such a thing anyways.

“What sort of man would allow his wife and unborn son to remain where they will come to harm?” the one-eyed prince gave his answer and knew it was sufficient, to Aemond, of course.

Criston’s loyalty to his mother bordered on madness. He would not understand that Aemma was not safe here.

“I gave you my word I would make sure she was safe, did something give you reason to doubt my word?” there is an unspoken son somewhere in there, Cole loved him more than his brothers, something Aegon hated.

“You heard him, my own brother wishes to kill my son and rape my wife out of revenge. The moment Aegon orders Fell or any of the Kingsguard to move aside, they would comply without question, even you would be of no use.” It is harsh, but it is the truth, Criston had stood there and let his mother humiliate Aemma before their wedding.

His wife was last sighted arriving in Duskendale, Jacaerys and Daemon had arrived there first and ensured she had a proper escort to Dragonstone.

Strong’s spies had said she wept bitterly when she learned of what had happened.

But she was safe and that was all that mattered now.

-----

Aemma hugged her brother firmly when he came to receive her.

“I thought I would never see you again.” Aemma said weeping from knowing what’s coming.

But Jace is here, and she will do things her way and not how the adults told her. she will tell him about her visions, and they will chart the course from there.

“So did I, sister. I am glad you were able to escape that kinslayer.” Jace comforted her, as if her gilded cage had been the worst of the blackcells.

Don’t call him that, she wants to say, as stupid as he is, Aemond didn’t mean to kill our brother.

But Aemma keeps her mouth shut and asks him about his travels.

“I wish you had been there, the Northerners aren’t like the people have said they were. I had been afraid Cregan would be offended by your refusal and side with the Usurper, but he said his honor is not brittle.” Jace leaves almost no detail out as they walk to where the Darklyns had brought a carriage and horses to take them to the Dun Fort.

“I figured as much. Did you hear of what happened to Helaena and her children? Stokeworth wanted to turn me in thinking I or mother had ordered it.” Aemma had vaguely threatened House Stokeworth with arson in her short respite there as well as openly condemning the barbaric act to all and sundry.

She knew it must’ve been ordered by Daemon, but the princess needed to know someone else had arrived to the same conclusion.

Jace had latched onto Daemon before transferring such attachment to his foster father, Vaemond, these past three years.

“Lord Mooton told me, he insinuated it was done by mother as well, claimed a mother’s grief does things to the mind.” He nodded quietly. “It should have been Aemond who lost his head, not little Jaehaerys.”

The words sting, but it is the truth. Had it been done for revenge, it should have been Aemond who had died that night.

This was cruelty disguised as revenge.

“Who do you think could have done it, Jace?” Aemma asked in a whisper as Caraxes broke through the clouds and announced his landing with a roar.

----

Aemma has always struggled with her anger as well as other impulses.

She has always been mediocre at best when it comes to keeping her inner dragon under control.

But you’d think all those lessons on patience and self-control with her grandmother and Teora had done the trick as she resists connecting her fist to Daemon’s face in front of Lord and Lady Darklyn.

The Rogue Prince betrays nothing, there is no smug look, no sadistic grin, not even a twitch that would give him away when Meredyth Darklyn mentions the unspeakable acts committed by the man having supper with them.

But Aemma knows he is guilty; she knows that it was he who ordered for Blood and Cheese to hurt the children.

“I know you ordered it.” Aemma confronts him the next morning as they prepare for the last leg of their journey. “I hope you suffer for it in this life and the next.”

“I don’t know what you mean, stepdaughter.” He plays dumb, but that same flash of recognition he had when she said the dead man wasn’t her father tells her what she needs to know.

“I know it was you who ordered Blood and Cheese to torture and kill Helaena’s children.”

“Your mother wanted her son avenged and I made it happen.” He said simply, as if the request gad been of no consequence like buying a new horse or finding out of season fruits.

“Revenge would have been killing Aemond, the children were innocent!” Aemma hissed and fought the urge to hit him and claw at him for being so cruel.

“That boy would have been the reason yours would be dead if we were to lose. If the Usurper has no heirs, the Kinslayer gets the Conqueror's crown, stepdaughter.

You should be thanking me for securing your inheritance and that of your son.”

And with that, the thin thread of self control snaps and Aemma flies at him in rage.

“How dare you?!” she screams over and over as she tried her best to pummel him with her fists. “They were children, they were innocent!”

“So was your brother, or did you forget that when you let his murderer back into your bed?” Daemon held her wrists with firm grip and kept her at arm’s length.

“Damn you, damn you to the seventh hell, Daemon Targaryen!” she spits at him.

“Sister, Aemma what has gotten into you?” Jace runs to her side and pulls her away from their uncle and stepfather.

“It was his doing, it was done on his orders.” She weeps in her brother’s arms knowing Daemon will go unpunished.

[horizon-verizon]

@not-a-real-fan

In response to these:

Espe these two parts:

she knew she was the heir to the throne and instead of attempting to take an active role in the managing of the realm especially when Aegon(2) was so obviously disinterested and unfit. She could have used those fifteen twenty ish years before Viserys’ death to show up the lords of the realm and prove that she’s the better option between her and her brother.

I know I've repeated myself to death atp, but here it is. It was actually better for her family & for herself to be on Dragonstone most of the time rather than at the Keep even with how the usurpation went about because:

Rhaenyra DID have ruling experience by her ruling Dragonstone (as was her right as the heir) going on for nearly 20 yrs! And she was ale to excercise true authority without Alicent interrupting or negating it. Even without Viserys to direct her or otherwise stymie her (the guy was not that great at mediation, for example)

she left bc her kids were in a "rivalry" w/Alicent's, and we can expect that Alicent had been telling her kids that Rhaenyra and her kids were he enemy...which means that coupled with the rumors of the V boys' bastardry that Alicent and whoever was close to her spread, would have had lasting effects on all Rhaenyra's kids' development...so Rhaenyra was being responsible, in a way, both as parent AND as a ruler bc if you got depressed or paranoid kids, one of them the future heir, that doesn't spell well for their mindset's

at Dragonstone, she can also consolidate her own resources and et up her base of operations, as she clearly did...because that's what castles are for

So it less black and white than how you put it. Like you mentioned, Aegon wasn't ever interested, so couple that with Rhaenyra's ACTUAL experience...yes she was the better "candidate". There was no real competition, the way you kinda imply. All Rhaenyra really had to fear were Alicent, Otto, & Aemond and even the last might have been suppressed if Alicent tried, before he actually killed anyone. Because it's the first 2 who have the brains and ambitions, as you mentioned.

As for this:

I also don’t think she should’ve been as surprised as she was when Otto and Alicent crowned Aegon

While one might say it's "naive" or stupid of her to expect people to keep to the oaths they swore to her when she was a child (Otto Hightower/the Hightowers were one of those lords):

oaths and the "honor" that is supposed to come from them are an integral part of this society, much as the taboo of kinslaying is; Rhaenyra believed in oaths and bonds from those because they were already a staple part of the ideological framework of the society and supported her coming up to power. She could be said to have held onto whatever the patriarchal customs of succession granted her. And there's nothing really wrong or stupid with that, it's pretty much consequential.

the greens could be said to be "naive" or stupid because most of teh houses joined together to fight for Rhaenyra instead of Aegon in the beginning....because the greens did not expect them to a) hold true to oaths or care abt them enough over Aegon/males being over girls in succession b) care more about making sure the custom of a lord/ruler getting to choose their own heir without fearing (or reduced fear) of someone ousting/fighting against that heir and thus disrupting those lords' plans for their own house -- basically many wanted they the assurance of their own sovereignty

why didn't Alicent and Otto not prepare Aegon, properly?! They thought they could bank entirely on males first [HotD] AND that Aegon would magically become the perfect little king for them, take advice & direction, maybe be as conflict-adverse as Viserys for some reason...how "naive" of them...

No, I don't give more weight to the greens' "naivety" or more grace than Rhaenyra's maybe belief in oaths and the king's word mattering above all else in a monarchy. Why? Because what does anyone really gain from the greens ruling? A failing king man-boy SA-er? Someone who clearly shows how violently angry he could get when just a little more triggered (shown in next section below> )Or a woman who BOTH has had to experience things man never would from early childhood AND who could set a stronger precedent for female rulers?

Then there's this:

They’ve [Alicent & Otto I assume] been running the realm long enough together that even with Aegon crowned he’d more inclined to heed his mother and grandfather’s advice.

And yet in the book we have several examples of Aegon NOT heeding a thing his grandfather tries to prevent him from doing, esp after finding out how easily Daemon took Harrenhal...

Until he finally dismisses Otto and puts Criston on as his Hand for a more militant and harsh campaign to crush Rhaenyra ["The Red Dragon and the Gold"]:

And before that piece of info, he nearly loses it 2x, first when he tried to order Rhaenyra imprisoned and killed and other people have to remind him that she's his sister and kinslaying is bad:

Then after she rejects the terms Orwyle delivers to her, Aegon rages again & decides it's wartime (The Blacks and the Greens):

Give a guy who's both been told he should have been king because he's male and his father "passed him over" anyway for a sister he clearly likes the best of his children, and dude has a huge complex. Probs felt useless all his life, now he has nearly absolute power but he fears that he'll be greatly punished for it from Rhaenyra and that this is his moment to truly shine and prove himself, you got a keg of problems you will eventually not be able to control all that well. As Otto finds out. And will Alicent be there when Aegon rules 24/7? Was she there at the battle where he was burnt to a crisp trying to kill Rhaenys at Rook's Rest? She probably even tried to stop him for the same reasons Rhaenyra should hold herself back from fighting (besides the fact that she was still recovering from one of the worst and goriest stillbirth deliveries described)...but obviously Aegon was too keen on revenge if Alicent did.

This:

Imo Rhaenyra should never have left the capital, her role as cupbearer and later assisting on the small council would have been proof enough that she’s at least interested in and capable of rule

I already explained why her leaving Dragonstone was actually for her interests & had benefits above. She was always interested and she always had actual ruling experience, it's just that the castle became hostile to her and her sons, she grew experience herself, AND Dragonstone became her actual base of operations in the beginning of the war. Where also, the Targs also have many dragons, the main source of power for the Targs. The whole reason Rhaenyra goes back to Dragonstone at the end is to find another dragon & regroup so she get get back to the war.

Aegon even, atp, tries to say he'll go claim another dragon "better" than Sunfyre.

This:

Idgaf about the strong boys bc she had no real choice there but I mean, she could have picked a donor that at least looked like her or her husband.

And yet, I see by how you call them "Strong" instead of "Velaryon" you do think they are bastards and that this matters. Sure, Jan. I don't think you're as neutral as you're trying to play off.

This also shows how you still blame her for being married to Laenor & having "basatrds". Esp since you immediately back this up with the idea that she could have gotten a "donor" who looks like what a Valyrian typically looks like.

Like I said to 2rats1gogh in this OP posts' comments:

Any other man in Westeros than Laenor is a gamble, bc she was right to say that that husband will look at her as more his way into royalty. You run the risk of said not-Laenor-"choice"being a man who even plots to practically reduce the amount of power Rhaenyra actually had, like with Juana I of Castile & her husband Philip ! of Castile. What are the chances that her not-Velaryon husband would be more like a Jason Lannister, who is looking at her as more of a way in? Giving Rhaenyra even less protections against said plotting husband? This was another consideration they would have had

Who would have "donated" and not likely come up to them all later and say, "I'm the father of these kids, I want in on this political game" thus endangering Rhaenyra and those kids? Harwin, Rhaenyra trusted because they go to know each other genuinely and he didn't ask anymore of her nor was ambitious. Rhaenyra was very lucky to have had someone like him not just for the kids she needed, but for the intimacy and little safety she could experience.

And don't mention a slave or a prostitute. If we hate Daemon or Aegon for their brothel visits or rape, Rhaenyra doing this would still be exploiting the bodies of the underclass who's body is being used by a much more privileged and powerful person. Nor a slave from Lys or whatever, who can't say no. More reasons for people--esp TG--to hate her character? Nah.

Finally this:

the primary issue is that Rhaenyra left the capital and allowed The greens to close rank around her father and start turning the realm against her.

I could have linked this list of green vs black supporters earlier, but this now seem more appropriate after i already answered you.

So we go back to square one: Rhaenyra was "entitled" bc she was literally entitled and she was a royal-noble. Of the two, Aegon felt & was unjustly and unlawfully entitled. At least she as actually named as heir over the likewise royal-noble Aegon II.

"Rhaenyra is really entitled"

Entitled to what? The crown she inherited by her own father and king? Isn't that what all nobles do anyway (aka inheriting their lands and titles from their ancestors)?

I don't see the fans calling the Hightowers entitled for keep on ruling on their fiefdom on Reach. Or any other Noble House or character for the matter. Why should Rhaenyra be the exception?

[jedijesi]

Luminary Love

Prince!Din Djarin x F!Princess!Reader

🤍Masterlist🤍

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut (F receiving, PiV, Breeding kink)

Summary: Tonight is your (unwanted) wedding to the soon-to-be King of Mandalore, but is there more to him than meets the eye?

Word Count: 3,100+

A/N: I’ve had this idea for several days now and I just needed to write it. Don’t worry tho bc the next ch. of biblichor will b out soon. Enjoy some Din content!🤍

All night long, you received congratulations and cheers. Thousands, billions of people would kill to be in your position, but you dreaded this more than anything. You never wanted to marry the soon-to-be king of Mandalore, but the Royal administration never gave you an option. Throughout the fantastical wedding, you repeatedly reminded yourself it was for your people - they are the ones who will prosper from this. Thankfully, his creed forbade him from removing his helmet in front of others, therefore you weren’t allowed to kiss him. The only time you had to touch him during the ceremony was when you held hands. Even then, his mastiff-leather gloves create a barrier from any real contact.

After the ceremony, you avoided your new husband as best you could. When it was time to put on a show, you had forced yourself to put on the royal smile you had been practicing. When eating, you sat as far away as possible from him but not far enough to worry the royal administrations that watched you two tentatively. The times you were called to waltz, you performed what you had been learning for months but never made eye contact with him. After a few dances, the royals watching had joined in and forgotten about you, giving you the perfect chance to escape.

You spent your time talking with other royalty, expressing your worries and concerns to Princess Mary of Ryloth. Unlike you, she was happily married, but it was her 3rd time. The first two suitors weren’t ‘good enough’ for her, so she became the royal’s biggest scandal and ignored her administration to marry for love. Luckily her experience with terrible lovers led to wonderful tips and tricks that she gladly gave you for your wedding night. You knew she was telling you these things to help, but in reality, it only made you feel worse about your new life.

“Djarin, my oldest friend, how are you enjoying your wedding?” General Paz said with a heavy pat to Din’s pauldron.

“It’s… grand.” Din sounded unconvinced by his own words.

“Grand? Is that all you have to say?”

“Well, everything appears wonderful, but my wife won’t speak nor look at me.”

“Have you attempted to talk to her?”

“Of course!” Din and Paz turn to watch you talk to Princess Mary. “She never responds, though.”

The uncomfortable feeling of Din’s stare props you to turn around. The blue and silver beskar statues jump when you catch them and quickly turn back to avoid any further embarrassment.

“I haven’t seen her in years, but she has grown to be quite beautiful, you must admit.” Paz shrugs.

“I know, it’s one of the many reasons I married her. I just… wish she’d give me a chance.”

“Well, she better. I overheard that the administration is already seething that you two haven’t gone back to your honeymoon suite.”

Din rolls his eyes under his helmet. “I don’t care about them. They shouldn’t have a say in my marriage.”

“Good luck arguing that. You know they expect an heir to be conceived tonight.”

“I already have Grogu. Is he not enough?”

“Nothing is enough for them, my friend.” Paz pats Din’s back reassuringly. “Just be kind to the poor girl. I’m sure she isn’t pleased with all of this.” He gestures to the grand chandeliers and dramatic towers of cake and food.

Din sighs as he fiddles with the edge of his cape. “Alright. I should probably go fetch her before the Administration creates any more drama.”

“Good luck, your majesty.” Paz bows as Din walks your way.

Din let’s go of his cape before wiping his armor of any lingering bits of dust and dirt, wanting to be as presentable as possible for you. When Din arrives behind you, he clears his throat and bows.

“My Princess, it is time for us to leave for the Honeymoon Suite.”

Without a word, you give him a nod and take his arm. The guests cheer and whisper as you and your husband make your way out of the ballroom. You could hear Royal Administers whisper their concerns regarding your fertility or your performance in bed. It was dehumanizing, to say the least. You fought for justice and equality on Naboo, but this was not the way on Mandalore. Your new role would be diminished to a supporting queen who would raise the future heirs. Meanwhile, the other women of Mandalore were busy serving valiantly in wars. This was the way. Mandalore was born out of extremists, and you had to embrace the consequences.

Din hated the whispers. If he were king, he would have lashed out long ago, but the coronation isn’t for another few days. You didn’t deserve to be treated as an object. Din saw you to be the goddess that would help lead his people into prosperity and the gorgeous woman who may one day graciously birth his children. Such slander against someone so perfect made Din rage under his helmet. A few more days. Din would remind himself.

.

The Suite reflected Mandalore: grand and majestic. Silver swirls of beskar outlined the stained glass windows that watched over Mandalore. The bed was larger than any other you had seen before. It looked cozy; a complete contrast to the large and uncomfortable dress you’ve been wearing all day. You walked over to touch the silk-like blankets and sighed at its softness.

Din watched you with interest - mesmerized by the way the roaring fireplace creates a golden glow on your features. “Wife?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you look at me?” The flicker of sadness in his voice took you by surprise. You weren’t sure if Mandalorians could feel emotions underneath the layers of cold beskar. “Do I… scare you?”

You turn to look at him, your nerves shining through by the twiddling of your thumbs. “I… I don't know.”

“What is wrong, my dear princess? I want to fix this. I don't want to start our marriage off on the wrong foot.” You sit down on the luxurious bed, your eyes now watching as you fiddle with your dress. Din walks towards you, taking a knee to be at eye level with you. “I understand this isn't what you wanted. I heard whispers that it took the maids an hour to get you off your ship. That you fought off any guard that laid a hand on you.” Din chuckled at the image he had created in his head. “But then the fighting stopped… why?” You couldn't find it within yourself to respond. “Won’t you please entertain my curiosity?”

You sighed and looked up into the dark visor. “I realized I was being selfish. I had forgotten that marriage among the royals was for the people… not for love.”

“You do not love me?”

“We barely know each other, your majesty.”

“What are you speaking of? We used to be best friends.”

You scoffed at Din. “We were children, your majesty. You were just a servant boy in the palace back then, but times have changed, haven't they, your majesty.”

“Please refrain from calling me ‘your majesty.’ I thought we were beyond that.” Din groaned, annoyed by the ridiculous title.

“Din, you're to become the Mandalore - the king - in a few days' time. I understand the rules - I understand why you had to marry me.”

“What? So that I could officially hold the title as king? I don't care about a stupid title - the administration does.”

“Then why marry me? There are millions of royals lined up to marry the Mandalore, but why choose me, Din? Why?” You started getting hysterical at it all. Your life's work had come to a halt just so that Din could be crowned king. It was disgusting and unfair.

“As an orphan-servant boy, the days your family visited were the best days of my life. Your parents always treated me like their own - the complete opposite of how the Kryze family did. I meant it when I said you were my best friend. You were the only person who could beat Paz and me in a fight. The only person who would sneak out of the palace to play in the garden at night with me. When your parents… passed and you stopped visiting me… It crushed me. I never stopped thinking about you, my princess.”

You could hear the build-up of tears in Din’s throat, but he wasn't the only one. You too had tears in your eyes, remembering the once pure and innocent life you had. You bring your hand up to din's helmet, holding where his cheek would be.

“Do you remember that last night?”

“Of course I do. It was a cold night in the rose garden. I gave you my coat since you had insisted you didn't need your shall.” Din smiled and chuckled at the memory.

“I... I never saw your lips, but I had never felt such pure joy than the moment they molded against mine.”

Din leans his head forward to rest your foreheads together. Underneath, he continued to beam. It had been so long since he had felt such love - such love that could only be created by you.

“My princess, I never stopped loving you. Even as we grew up and apart, I would watch the holovids that spoke about you, and all the wonderful things you were doing for your people. It was the only thing that kept me going through those torturous years apart from you. I love you.”

Din’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug. You reciprocated by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your head in the crook of his neck. “I love you too, Din.”

“My wife?”

“Yes, my husband?”

“Will you take this ridiculous helmet off of me so that I may kiss you and make love to you?”

Your glowing smile melts Din’s heart. Your hand reaches up to slowly slide off the silver beskar helmet that covered those features you dreamt of. An audible gasp escapes past your lips when Din’s lips appear. It took everything in you to not pounce on him and cover him in kisses, but you maintain your composure. His nose was strong and beautiful, and his cheeks… oh, how you wanted to leave lipstick stains on them. Then were his perfect eyes. Those chocolate eyes that expressed an amount of love you'd never completely fathom in your life.

“You're stunning, Din.” Din’s heart flutters at your words. The only compliment he's ever received was about his combat skills and valor. He's never been complimented on his looks before.

“I’d never compare to my gorgeous wife.”

Din takes your face into his palms and slowly pulls you in for a kiss. The moment your lips touch, you feel fireworks exploding all around you. The glowing lights flash behind your eyelids as you mold your lips together. The tickle of his mustache causes you to giggle into the kiss, which Din finds to be enchanting. One of Din's hands leaves your face to grip your torso, massaging and kneading your skin.

“I love you.” He murmurs into the kiss. “I love you more than the moons and stars.”

As the kisses become more intense, so does your lust for one another. Din’s hands undo the strings of your wedding dress as you shed his armor off - lips never leaving each other. Once you two were completely naked, Din had you crawl to the center of the bed.

“Now, lay back, my love. I want to show you how much I love and miss you.” You follow his instructions and rest your head on the large cloud-like pillows.

Din crawls between your legs, taking one into his hand. Starting from your ankle, he works his way down, leaving a trail of sloppy yet delicate kisses. He takes his time at your inner thigh, sucking and licking at your skin to make you emit whimpers.

“D-Din, please don't tease me.”

“Hush, now. Let me take my time loving you.” And he does. He spends his time worshiping your body - kissing and sucking the skin around your lips while his hand massages your breasts. Suddenly, Din dives into your sopping wet cunt, immediately sucking and licking your swollen clit. You let out a loud gasp followed by a moan, making Din’s cock bounce up in excitement.

Your noises sound like music - the most angelic music he's ever heard in his life. Each moan and whimper you let out only addicted him more. Din wraps his hands around your waist and sits back, lifting your hips from the bed and to his mouth. You grip the blankets with a scream as Din explores further into your pussy. The animalistic grunts and growls he lets out only make you wetter.

“Come on, Princess. Cum. Cum all over my face. I need it.” And just like that, you let out a scream as you convulse around his tongue. Din slowly lowers you back onto the bed as he licks up your dripping cum. “You're sweeter than a meiloorun, darling. I've never tasted anything so divine. I’d love to stay between your legs forever and drink your cum until the day I die, but I wanna put a baby in you too badly to do so.” You let out a whimper at his filthy words. “Can I, darling? Will you let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Wait, we're not done?” You ask through pants.

“Not done? We’ll be done when the sun wakes up. Even then, I'm not sure if we'll ever be done. Why?”

“The other princesses said it would only be a minute of discomfort, and it’ll be over.

Din tsks and shakes his head, pressing a few kisses to your clit. “Oh, my darling. I'm not like those other royals. I care about my wife’s pleasure, and you…” Din presses more kisses to your overstimulated heat. “Are nowhere near done with your, please. So, I'll ask you again. Are you ready for me to fuck a baby into you with my thick, hard cock?”

“Stars, yes! Please, Din!” You hated how completely and utterly desperate you sounded, but you were completely and utterly desperate for Din to fuck you.

Din crawls up to meet your half-lidded eyes, drooping with lust. He places soft kisses on your cheeks before pressing one to your lips. “Are you ready for me, Princess?”

“Yes, my husband.”

Din grabs his cock, lining it up with your entrance. With a loud moan, he enters your sopping wet pussy.

“Oh, you're so wet! Ungh… Stars, you're so tight too!” Din’s thrusts speed up to a steady pace, your moans echoing through the room along with the lewd, wet sounds of your bodies pounding together. “From this day forward, y-your. Pussy. Belongs. To. Me.” Din emphasizes his words with his cock hitting against your g-spot.

“O-Only i-if your cock b-belongs - Oh yes, Din - To me.”

Din chuckles through his labored breaths. “Of course, my love. My cock is forever yours to do what you please with. I don't care what time- ugnh- or what p-place. It's yours.” You lean up to capture din’s parted lips, swallowing his beautiful moans. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten. Desperate for your release, you buck your hips back into Din. “Yes, take my cock. It's yours. All yours.” Din takes your legs, pushing them to your chest. Both of you let out a series of loud moans at the deeper feeling.

“Oh, Din! I'm going to cum if you keep doing that!”

“Ugh, I can see the galaxy when I'm inside you! Can you feel that, my love?”

“Yes, I-I can feel your throbbing cock!” You throw your head back at the euphoric feeling. Your exposed neck allows Din to swoop down and suck marks onto it.

“Th-That's me, claiming what's mine. You're all mine, my princess.” Din’s thrusts speed up, desperate and ready for you to cum. Each thrust was accompanied by a loud grunt that made you clench even tighter. “I'm gonna cum. I'm going to give you a baby - our baby. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Din! I love y-you!” You scream out a slew of ‘i love yous’ and clench tightly around Din’s swollen cock. Your orgasm and words of love cause Din to cum, sending spurts of his cum into your womb, where your future child would soon grow.

Din collapses on you which you gladly accept. You wrap your arms around his neck and place kisses on the crown of his head. Both of you stay like that for a while, basking in pure love. Once your breaths are back to normal, Din slowly pulls out of you to lay on the bed beside you. He pulls you closer to him so that no space lingered and adjusted the blankets to create a cocoon of comfort around you two.

You smile as you listen to his heartbeat against his chest. Din’s index finger presses to the underside of your chin, adjusting your eyes to look into his.

“Are you okay, my love?”

You nod lazily, completely worn out. “You know, having a husband isn't so bad after all.” Din lets out a hearty laugh before leaning down to kiss you.

“Yeah, having a wife isn't so bad either.” Din smirks at you, causing you to shy away in embarrassment and return your attention to his chest. Your fingers trace shapes and words onto his chest until you stop. A mark on Din’s torso prompts you to inspect it. “What are your curious fingers doing, my love?”

“What is this?” You ask as your finger traces the mark.

“It’s just a scar, dearest.”

“A scar?” You look back at Din with worry in your eyes.

“Oh, don't worry, my love. I've collected so many over the years, I've become immune to them. That one was either from when I fought Bo-Katan or when I fought a mudhorn to save my son.”

“Goodness.... I've missed so much of your life.” Your face droops with sadness, but Din is quick to relieve your worries.

“Now, it's nothing to be upset over. Yes, we've missed a lot, but that means we can spend the rest of our lives catching up and making new memories. Plus, you can meet my son tomorrow.”

You smile and press a chaste kiss to Din’s lips. “I’d love that.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, but this one wasn't so innocent.

“Did I not satisfy you, my love?” Din chuckles into the kiss. You climb on top of him and shake your head. “Oh, does my princess want more?”

You give Din a mischievous grin and shrug.

Din smirks before leaning in to kiss you. “Well, who am I to deny my wife of her wishes?”

A/N: Idk who from my Javier Peña taglist wants to be on this one, but those who are interested in being added to a Din Djarin taglist or a perminante taglist, please let me know.🤍 Can’t wait to hear what you all think!

[demonslayedher]

"Grandpa Kokushibo" AU

This started as a simple little joke in those Muichiro doodles. And then it was just supposed to be a simple little drabble. A simple little Crack Fic. But next thing you know...

------

“You… you are my descendent…”

“…huh…”

Six flaring eyes loomed over Tokito, the two in the middle etched with writing. Upper Moon… One…

“Those eyes…”

Having been so locked on the demon’s eyes, he didn’t realize at first that it was talking about his own. “…huh…?”

“…They’re red… a sign… a Kakushaku-no-Ko… you have… potential…”

“……huh…..”

“Become… a demon…”

“…huh………. Huh!?”

With little recourse to convince the demon to leave like he might attempt with a bear or a boar, Tokito brought the demon home. “Sweetheart? I, uh… a relative of mine is visiting.”

His wife, whose complexion was lovely even without the luxuries of make-up, smiled up sweetly from where she knelt, with their two young sons asleep on the futon before her. “You still have family? What happy news---”

The demon, Kokushibo, bowed lowly so that he could fit inside the door. “Good evening,” he said.

“…G…Good evening,” she gawked, her soft green eyes wide and locked. “A… a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure… is mine.”

“Uh, so, it seems this is my great-grandfather of sorts. A great many ‘greats.’ A few centuries’ worth of ‘greats.’ What a coincidence that we’ve just run into each other.”

“It’s no… coincidence. I have… always been searching… for Sun Breath users…”

Tokito smiled with his face like puddy. “Sun Breath? What’s that?”

“…to kill them…”

Tokito and his wife shared a “ghh!!” as their throats tightened.

“I did not expect… to find the remains of the Tsugikuni Clan… out here… in this… dump…”

“I, uh, I sort of recall that name being way back in the family. But on the wrong side of the war, you know? We haven’t been a warrior clan since the start of Edo times.”

“A pity… but… no matter… you will have… a greater master to serve…”

“Um! Uh! Would you like to meet your grandsons?”

“Honey, what are you—”

Six eyes widened. “Grandsons?”

“I have twin boys! I’m busy raising them, I don’t have any time for swordsmanship, haha! All I know how to do is swing an ax.”

“Heirs… are important… they’ll do no good… as children… You,” he looked to Tokito’s wife, whose eyes were swirling trying to follow his gaze. “You do it. You raise them. I’ll… train my descendent…”

“Train…?”

“You may have… the ability… to attain the Breath… of the Sun…”

“D---di---di—didn’t you say you were going to kill S-S-Sun Breath users?”

“Why would I… kill my descendent…?”

Tokito was doing his best, but he was hitting his limits for how many more surprises he could take that evening. “Listen, I… I only want what’s best for my family. I want to watch my sons grow up, and teach them how to live a simple life out here in nature. Ancestor or not, we want nothing to do with demons.”

“My dear,” his wife said, some surprised admiration in her tone.

“I have to ask you to leave.”

“I cannot.”

“You will take ‘no’ for an answer!”

“I cannot,” Kokushibo stressed. “The sun is rising. Sunlight… will kill me…”

“…ah… oh. That’s a problem.”

“I’ll remain… here…”

“I’m sorry, I can’t have you do that. You’re a demon, and—”

“Defy me… and I will kill your family.”

“---GHH!” the Tokito couple swallowed harder.

----- The boys woke up to find a demon quietly sitting cross-legged in the corner. Yuichiro cried, Muichiro stared. Tokito didn’t want to scare them, however rightfully they should be, so he smiled and introduced the demon as their grandfather. Kokushibo politely bowed his head. The boys were quickly accepting. In his heart, Tokito cried and begged the forgiveness of his religious parents for not teaching them a proper distaste for evil.

In a battle of will, Tokito would be easily outmatched. But for however many years Kokushibo had on him, he didn’t seem like a quick thinker. Tokito might be able to beat him in a battle of wits. He had an ability that was sure to ward Kokushibo off, if only he could wield it with the right timing.

“If you leave me no choice, Grandfather, then I guess I must learn this Sun Breathing swordsmanship you keep talking about! Maybe you’re right, maybe I do have potential! I’d like to think all my practice cutting down trees makes me adept with a blade,” he smiled, his hands proudly at his hips. “Will you take a look this evening?”

“Yes… I eagerly await… seeing your potential… my descendent…”

Tokito grinned. He couldn’t wait either. In the meantime, Yuichiro and Muichiro spent the daylight hours at either side of the unusual houseguest.

“Grandpa, you have flames on your face. Do those hurt?”

“They do not…”

“You have as many eyes as a bug. Why do you have so many eyes?”

“Because… I am… a demon…”

“It looks gross. With all those eyes, can’t you see it looks gross?”

“I can see… a great many things…”

“Why are there eyes on your sword? Can your sword see?”

“My sword is made with… my blood… its eyes… are my eyes…”

“Is your sword a bug?”

“What’s its name?”

“Kyokokukamusari.”

“Kyokko…”

“Kyokyaku…”

“Kyokyakoku…”

“Kyokukuka…”

“Your tongues… are young.”

When evening fell, Tokito put his plan into action. It took no special effort on his part, all he had to do was trust himself.

“Yahh! Yaahh!” he yelled as he swung his ax. “Yaah! Yar! Yagh! Yuh!! Ya—AHHH!” he spun around and fell down, nearly lopping off his own arm. Perfect!

All of Kokushibo’s eyes, even the ones down his sword were blazing on him, and he waited for Kokushibo’s reaction. There was no fooling those eyes, which made Tokito’s plan all the better.

That demon would know!

“You are very…”

“Yes?”

“Clumsy.”

Precisely! This would chase that pesky demon off, wouldn’t it?

“I can see… it will take… many years… to train you…”

…no.

-----

The centuries had made Kokushibo resilient to setback, and time flowed at a different pace for him. “Become a demon now… and you will have… all the time you need… to attain… Sun Breathing…”

“Now, now wait!” Tokito waved his arms. He had taken the full next day to get his wits rounded back up, while Kokushibo resided indoors again patiently allowing the curious bos to poke the eyes of his sword, proving to them he was too powerful to be harmed by their tiny fingers. Yuichiro contemplated poking Kokushibo in one of the eyes on his face, but he hesitated when all six were focused on him, and he cried and buried his face behind his hands. “Wait. Wait. You can wait, can’t you?”

“Wait… for what?”

“If it’s inevitable that I have to become a demon, can’t you wait for me to be a human longer?”

“What good is there… in being human?”

“I want to watch my boys grow up!”

“I am a demon… I see them… perfectly fine.”

“Well, I mean, but, no, I mean, like, out there, having a normal family life with them. Working in the mountains, coming home, making food.”

“A human body… is weak… and will starve… without food… A waste… of time… to constantly…. work… for… Your body… will grow old… and frail… Become a demon… and these concerns… will vanish…”

“You—you make a compelling argument, Grandfather. But being human is good too!”

“How… is being human… better… than being… a demon?”

“I, well… is… isn’t it weird to learn Sun Breathing if I can’t see the sun?”

The demon’s eyes, every last one of them, went wide. Tokito had him! “You’re… right…” he said, stunned.

“Haha, oh, Grandfather! It’s been so long since you’ve seen it that you must had forgotten about it! All the creatures of this world are meant to be touched by the sun’s rays, it’s the natural way of things. It’s a blessing.”

“Sun Breathing… may require… practice… under the sun…”

“Haha, it may take a while, but I guess I’ll have to do my best on my own.”

“I will… train you… at night… and by day… you will train… under the sun…”

-----

The arrangement seemed to be working a while. Whether Tokito trained during the day or not (he did not), his progress was slow. His wife had come to get accustomed to the situation, knowing she had to make the best of it until the demon hopefully got bored and left. Having the boys so entertained during the day helped her get a lot of extra work done around the house.

“Grandfather,” she addressed him. “We got a great catch for dinner tonight, look at the size of this fish! What part of the fish is your favorite? I’ll serve that part for you.”

“Demons… do not eat… fish…”

“Oh, how rude of us. What would better suit your tastes?”

“Demons… do not consume… human food… we would… vomit it…”

“Ahhh… oh. Well, we can’t have that.”

“Grandpa. Grandpa,” Muichiro tugged at his hakama. “Then what do demons eat?”

“Humans.”

Muichiro stared, and after what felt like a long time in human experience, his face flushed and his eyes welled with tears. Yuichiro pinched his cheek. “Don’t cry, stupid. He’s only teasing you.”

“…oh,” Muichiro, red-faced and cheek still stretched smiled with relief.

Their mother, meanwhile, was blanched white, the fish still flopping around in her stiff hands.

--

“You’re not… making much… progress… could it be… you’re not… practicing… in daylight…?”

“Ah, ahhhh, yes, I’m afraid not,” Tokito sweated profusely. “That… that’s just part of being human. There’s so much work to do all day and then I have to sleep through so much of the night. I may never learn swordsmanship at this rate, hahaha!”

“Then hurry… and become a dem—”

“S-Sure must had been nice to be in a samurai clan back in your day, huh? Servants to do all the tedious chores and stuff so you could focus and train! May, maybe it’d be nice to hear some stories about when you were growing up! The boys would love to know their family history too, I’m sure!”

“…what chores…?”

“Oh, haha, oh, Grandfather! Did you not even know what chores were? What a charmed life—”

“What chores?” he stressed.

“Uhh---well---chopping trees, mostly.”

“Your ax… hand it to me…”

“Uhh… yes, sir.”

“I will chop your trees… so you… may advance… in your training…”

“Ye… yes, sir.”

-----

They had an excess of very high-quality wood on a regular basis. It sold so well on Tokito’s occasional trips into town that he found himself with more money than he ever had in his life. “Use it… to buy food…” Kokushibo instructed him. “Nourish your family… with it… buy warmer clothes… save your labor…”

Tokito had been raised being told that demons were evil, but he began to question that. They were all part of a world beyond humans, populated by Buddhas and Tengu and foxes, who was to say that their nature was entirely evil?

All at once, one night after months of the demon’s constant presence, he disappeared. Tokito and his wife cried with relief, and Tokito vowed to use the gifts the supernatural ancestor bestowed on them to raise his family well, and to never forget humility in the face of things outside their human experience.

But then he came back the following night.

“G-Grandfather,” he trembled. “Y-y-you’re back.”

“I went out… to feed. Now… continue… your practice…”

Inside, his wife cried on behalf of them both, for Tokito was too scared to anything but obey.

-----

Two years went by. With no choice, Tokito could not help that his swordsmanship improved. “Hhm,” Kokushibo nodded with approval. “Soon… I shall… find you a sword… no longer… a wooden one…”

“Aw, you don’t need to trouble yourself, Grandfather!”

“It is… no trouble… to steal one…”

“Well, what I mean is, I’m still so clumsy! Hahaha! Sure would be a waste of effort to kill myself by accident, wouldn’t it?”

“Hmm… you are right…”

“Hahaha!”

“I will… make you a demon first…”

“No! No, wait! I’ll keep practicing, I’ll keep practicing! Let’s hold off on a real sword until I’m ready!”

“You are… delaying… the inevitable…”

“And you are exceedingly patient, Grandfather!”

“That person… is not… so patient… he watches… and tells me… to hurry… and be done… with you…”

“Ghh!” he gulped as he went pale. He should never had forgotten his humility facing that which was outside human experience.

“Gra-a-a-a-nd-paaaa!” came a voice at the door of the hut. “Come fold origami with us!”

“I would… rather play Go…” the demon answered as he turned around and answered the summons.

“Go is boring!”

“You will… appreciate it when you are older…”

His wits. Tokito had to keep thinking with his wits.

-----

Another year went by. Kokushibo remained outwardly patient, but once again made mention of ‘that person.’

“He has… more tasks for me… than to be here… tonight… I will grant you his blood…”

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” Tokito raised his voice at him. This was it. He had to enact his next plan. “What are all these ‘tasks’ anyway? You still take plenty of time away to be a hitman, what else could he possibly have you do?”

Kokushibo answered very simply. “Look for… the blue… spider lily.”

“Ha! Spider lilies aren’t blue, everyone knows that,” sneered Yuichiro.

“The spider lilies are all dead,” said Muichiro. “It’s winter.”

If Kokushibo had twelve eyebrows, he would had raised them in their direction. “I… see… winter… of course… they must… be seasonal…”

“Are you senile, Grandpa? Of course they’re seasonal. They only grow in autumn.”

“You see big patches of them all of a sudden!”

“Autumn… of course… how could I… had forgotten…”

“That’s to be expected, don’t be so hard on yourself, Grandfather,” Tokito’s wife sweetly smiled to him. “They’re a daytime flower, it must be so long since you’ve seen them.”

“Daytime… yes… of course… they’re under… the sun… no wonder… it’s been… impossible… for demons… for a thousand… years… that person’s… blood… is swelling… within me… with… frustration…”

With the rising tenseness in Kokushibo’s voice, Tokito’s muscle sprung with their own tension. “N-no wonder! How sad! How sad that demons can’t go under the sun! I hope I never—”

“That person… will give you… more time. For you… must search… in the daytime…”

“Ghh…” he swallowed. “Y… yes, sir.”

“That’s stupid,” said Yuichiro. “You’re not going to find any in winter.”

“Yes… it’s stupid. You will… search next autumn… and train… until then… and…”

“……….and……….?”

“Play… Go… with me. These rascals… have no… appreciation for… Go…”

“It’s boring, Grandpa!”

“I’m trying, I can’t remember all the rules!”

“Let’s play Shogi instead!”

“Fine… lay the board… let’s play Shogi…”

-----

Two more years passed. Tokito had reprieve from his training during the autumns to search for the blue spider lilies, and one untimely fall in those searches gave him a much longer reprieve from training. His leg was badly broken, and he spent most of the winter bedridden.

“Haha… I’m still so clumsy…” he laughed, covering up that he also wanted to cry.

“And now we have to do all your work,” grumbled Yuichiro.

“Are you still in pain, Dear?”

“A… a lot, yes…”

“Become… a demon…”

“N-no! I’m still so clumsy, I haven’t mastered any of the Sun Breath yet!”

“I don’t want Daddy to get hurt anymore,” Muichiro said with tear-stained eyes. “Next autumn, I’ll go look for the flowers instead.”

“Ghh!” Tokito and his wife looked to him, helpless to tell their son to stop.

“Very good… a good child…” Kokushibo patted his head. “You will… be useful… to that person… too…”

It had to stop. Tokito needed to hurry and eliminate this demon, for the sake of his family.

-----

The following autumn, his leg still bothered him. On most days it was fine, but when it rained or when he climbed too stiff of an incline, the pain kept coming back. He could not use it as any excuse to skip his training, though, for Kokushibo would use that as an excuse to rip him from his humanity.

He kept up the training, as well as ventured out through the mountains to search, and ventured down the mountain periodically to sell the wood that Kokushibo cut. On one of those trips into town, he overheard the gossip.

“I heard it was demons.”

He froze to the spot and listened. He knew it wasn’t Kokushibo, for he was careful not to cause any incidents that would inconvenience the Tokito family—a strange thing that Tokito was sorry for being grateful for. But, perhaps if an incident had occurred closer to them, he’d have heard the following gossip sooner.

“The Demon Slayers are sure to catch it.”

“Demon Slayers?”

“Swordsmen with the sun in their blades, they fight with Breaths to take those monsters down.”

Breaths! Like Sun Breathing!

“Um!” he butted in. “How can I find these Demon Slayers?”

“How? We don’t know. Do you have a demon on your hands, Tokito?”

“…Ghh!... N… No…” he bit his lip and rolled his eyes back to avoid looking at them as he lied.

Maybe there was someone out there who could help him. But how would he find them without raising Kokushibo’s suspicion? The stress made it hard for him to sleep and gave him headaches. His could not risk any talk of this at home, but his sweet wife could see how it pained him, and she whispered with a light cough to let her and the boys take care of searching for the blue spider lilies.

-----

His wife fell ill. A common thing, for humans.

“I’m sorry, Grandfather. For now while I’m still human, I still have human responsibilities to my family. I need to find medicine for her. I’ll be back after I go fetch a herb that will help.”

“You know not where… to find… the blue spider lily… but know… the location… of… a little… herb…?”

“Yes. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s… raining…”

“I know exactly where it is.”

“Where… is it…”

“It grows on the side of a cliff near here.”

“You… know… of plants… on a cliff… but not… the blue… spider lilies…? You… wreak… of… a liar…”

Tokito ran cold.

“And… to think… someone… as… clumsy… as you… would… try… in this… weather…? You…”

This was not the time for everything to crash and fail. His wife’s lungs were in a bad state, if Kokushibo were to do something to him now—

“…are… more… idiotic than I thought… stay here… my… stupid descendent. No wonder… you take… so long to progress…”

The demon very soon returned, unbothered by how his clothes and hair left dripping wet pools throughout their home. He did not know which herb it was so he had cleaned the cliffs of them, allowing Tokito to sort through and pick out the ones that would help. Tokito made them into a medicine to treat his wife, and while it eased her coughing over the following day, she was still in a worrisome state. Kokushibo rolled all six eyes before leaving again that night, returning very close to dawn with his hands full of medicines. “Something… in these… ought to do it…”

It took a little careful trial and error, but a few of them turned out to be very effective, and she soon made a complete recovery.

And now, Tokito had a debt to pay.

-----

He made progress in Sun Breathing. Something was breaking through, making sense in his muscles. Kokushibo watched all the more silently with each night. They both had the sense that there was a change coming soon. Tokito was on the last of his wits.

The time Kokushibo spent around his sons, influencing them… it likewise had to end.

“Grandfather,” he asked, his forehead against his thumbs. “Where do we go once I can no longer be in the sun?”

“You can reside here… as long as that person… allows you to… you want… to watch over your sons… do you not…?”

“I don’t know that much about demons. But if I become one, they’ll be in danger, won’t they?”

“…I will make certain… no harm… will come to your family…”

Tokito closed his eyes with a sigh. “Thank you.”

“Of the two of them… Muichiro… may also… be of use… to that person…”

“Ghh!” his whole chest tightened as much as his throat.

He had let this go on too long. How could he find them? How could he find the Demon Slayers? How could he do without ‘that person’ knowing?

----- The sun! Whatever action he took, it had to be under the protection of the sun!

“Tokito, good to see you!”

“It’s been months!”

“You had us worried.”

And humans! There was a strength in humans he couldn’t forget, and must always find himself humbled by. Anything he could ever accomplish on his own was so small, but with the help of more people! “Thank you for keeping us in mind! My wife fell ill a while, but she’s recovered now.”

“Psst. Are you still, you know?”

“You know?” another one asked, biting her lip and rolling her eyes back a second. “You know?”

“Ah… ah!! Yes!”

“Not to worry, lad,” an old man patted his shoulder. “Your family’s fallen on hard times, and that’s a shame. We’ve spread word of your family, and it’ll reach the right ears soon.” With a grin, the old lady next to him pointed to a crow flying overhead.

“Ahhh!” his eyes watered, and he bowed so low his face nearly hit his knees. “Thank you so much!”

“Hold your head up, young man. Do your roots proud!”

Yes. Even if his roots were Kokushibo, he could not allow himself to lose his humanity. There was still hope!

-----

Tokito had to protect his family. This Breath had a power, a power strong enough to make ‘that person’ want to rid the world of anyone who could use it. Maybe it was ungrateful to hone it as a gift to his eventual rescuers, a weapon that they might use.

A weapon they might use against Kokushibo, the ancestor who had spent years teaching it to him.

After a long day of training in the rays of the sun and well into the night, Tokito returned to his home, already dark inside. Muichiro and Yuichiro were wrapped up in their futon and using Kokushibo’s knees for pillows. All six of his eyes opened slowly, focused solely on Tokito. “You’ve… grown much stronger… it’s time soon… for a sword…”

-----

A knock came at the door. “That’s odd,” his wife blinked her big green eyes to it. They were not used to visitors.

“I’ll get it!!” Tokito shouted with a smile and bounded over to it. Their cry for help had been answered! It had to be buff, strong swordsmen, ready to rescue them and eliminate the demon—

He pulled wide the door, and against the light, there was the silhouette of two small children, and a demure lady in a traveling kimono.

No, this was wrong. Something was wrong. There was something special about these people, but they were not the Demon Slayers he waited for. As his breath tightened, the woman searched his face with growing concern. One of the children at her side looked inside the house, starting first on the woman with the big green eyes, and then the two identical children with long hair, staring back at the door while their Go board was illuminated by the outside light, and then to the dark corner of the house, where a demon sat and stared back.

“Ubu… ya… shi… ki?”

-----

(((And then, the author who only wanted to write a short crack fic, put the fic away, scared by the evil she had unleashed.)))

[weirwoodking]

I feel like that if Jon was a girl, she'd be hated so badly by the fandom for everything she was loved for as a male

Oh, yeah, of course. Jon (and the other male characters) gets away with feeling emotion in a way that none of the female characters do or would ever be able to do.

I was going to do this in a separate post, but your ask gave me the perfect opportunity to do it right here. I took the liberty of compiling a few Jon excerpts, and switched the name “Jon” to “Dany” and the male pronouns to female pronouns.

And then she heard the laughter, sharp and cruel as a whip, and the voice of Ser Alliser Thorne. "Not only a bastard, but a traitor's bastard," he was telling the men around him.

In the blink of an eye, Dany had vaulted onto the table, dagger in her hand. Pyp made a grab for her, but she wrenched her leg away, and then she was sprinting down the table and kicking the bowl from Ser Alliser's hand. Stew went flying everywhere, spattering the brothers. Thorne recoiled. People were shouting, but Dany did not hear them. She lunged at Ser Alliser's face with the dagger, slashing at those cold onyx eyes, but Sam threw himself between them and before Dany could get around him, Pyp was on her back clinging like a monkey, and Grenn was grabbing her arm while Toad wrenched the knife from her fingers.

—Jon VII, AGOT

Ser Alliser seized Dany by the arm.

Dany yanked away and grabbed the knight by the throat with such ferocity that she lifted him off the floor. She would have throttled him if the Eastwatch men had not pulled her off. Thorne staggered back, rubbing the marks Dany’s fingers had left on his neck. "You see for yourselves, brothers. The girl is a wildling."

—Jon IX, ASOS

In the end Halder and Horse had to pull her away from Iron Emmett, one man on either arm. The ranger sat on the ground dazed, his shield half in splinters, the visor of his helm knocked askew, and his sword six yards away. "Dany, enough," Halder was shouting, "he's down, you disarmed him. Enough!"

No. Not enough. Never enough. Dany let her sword drop. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Emmett, are you hurt?”

Iron Emmett pulled his battered helm off. "Was there some part of yield you could not comprehend?" It was said amiably, though. Emmett was an amiable man, and he loved the song of swords. "Warrior defend me," he groaned, "now I know how Qhorin Halfhand must have felt."

That was too much. Dany wrenched free of her friends and retreated to the armory, alone. Her ears were still ringing from the blow Emmett had dealt her. She sat on the bench and buried her head in her hands. Why am I so angry? she asked herself, but it was a stupid question. Lady of Dragonstone. I could be the Lady of Dragonstone. My father's heir.

—Jon XII, ASOS

“Men say that freezing to death is almost peaceful. Fire, though…do you see the candle, Gilly?”

She looked at the flame. “Yes.”

“Touch it. Put your hand over the flame.”

Her big brown eyes grew bigger still. She did not move.

“Do it.” Kill the girl. “Now.”

Trembling, the girl reached out her hand, held it well above the flickering candle flame.

“Down. Let it kiss you.”

Gilly lowered her hand. An inch. Another. When the flame licked her flesh, she snatched her hand back and began to sob.

“Fire is a cruel way to die. Dalla died to give this child life, but you have nourished him, cherished him. You saved your own boy from the ice. Now save hers from the fire.”

“They’ll burn my babe, then. The red woman. If she can’t have Dalla’s, she’ll burn mine.”

“Your son has no king’s blood. Melisandre gains nothing by giving him to the fire. Stannis wants the free folk to fight for him, he will not burn an innocent without good cause. Your boy will be safe. I will find a wet nurse for him and he’ll be raised here at Castle Black under my protection. He’ll learn to hunt and ride, to fight with sword and axe and bow. I’ll even see that he is taught to read and write.” Sam would like that. “And when he is old enough, he will learn the truth of who he is. He’ll be free to seek you out if that is what he wants.”

“You will make a crow of him.” She wiped at her tears with the back of a small pale hand. “I won’t. I won’t.”

Kill the girl, thought Dany. “You will. Else I promise you, the day that they burn Dalla’s boy, yours will die as well.”

“Die,” shrieked the Old Bear’s raven. “Die, die, die.”

The girl sat hunched and shrunken, staring at the candle flame, tears glistening in her eyes. Finally Dany said, “You have my leave to go. Do not speak of this, but see that you are ready to depart an hour before first light. My men will come for you.”

—Jon II, ADWD

“Lord Janos,” Dany said, “I will give you one last chance. Put down that spoon and get to the stables. I have had your horse saddled and bridled. It is a long, hard road to Greyguard.”

“Then you had best be on your way, girl.” Slynt laughed, dribbling porridge down his chest. “Greyguard’s a good place for the likes of you, I’m thinking. Well away from decent godly folk. The mark of the beast is on you.”

“You are refusing to obey my order?”

“You can stick your order up your arse,” said Slynt, his jowls quivering.

Alliser Thorne smiled a thin smile, his black eyes fixed on Dany. At another table, Godry the Giantslayer began to laugh.

“As you will.” Dany nodded to Iron Emmett. “Please take Lord Janos to the Wall—”

—and confine him to an ice cell, she might have said. A day or ten cramped up inside the ice would leave him shivering and feverish and begging for release, Dany did not doubt. And the moment he is out, he and Thorne will begin to plot again.

—and tie him to his horse, she might have said.

If Slynt did not wish to go to Greyguard as its commander, he could go as its cook. It will only be a matter of time until he deserts, then. And how many others will he take with him?

“—and hang him,” Dany finished.

Janos Slynt’s face went as white as milk. The spoon slipped from his fingers. Edd and Emmett crossed the room, their footsteps ringing on the stone floor. Bowen Marsh’s mouth opened and closed though no words came out. Ser Alliser Thorne reached for his sword hilt. Go on, Dany thought. Dark Sister was slung across her back. Show your steel. Give me cause to do the same.

[...]

“If the girl thinks that she can frighten me, she is mistaken,” they heard Lord Janos said. “She would not dare to hang me. Janos Slynt has friends, important friends, you’ll see…” The wind whipped away the rest of his words.

This is wrong, Dany thought. “Stop.”

Emmett turned back, frowning. “My lady?”

“I will not hang him,” said Dany. “Bring him here.”

“Oh, Seven save us,” he heard Bowen Marsh cry out.

The smile that Lord Janos Slynt smiled then had all the sweetness of rancid butter. Until Dany said, “Edd, fetch me a block,” and unsheathed Dark Sister.

By the time a suitable chopping block was found, Lord Janos had retreated into the winch cage, but Iron Emmett went in after him and dragged him out. “No,” Slynt cried, as Emmett half-shoved and half-pulled him across the yard. “Unhand me…you cannot…when Tywin Lannister hears of this, you will all rue—”

Emmett kicked his legs out from under him. Dolorous Edd planted a foot on his back to keep him on his knees as Emmett shoved the block beneath his head. “This will go easier if you stay still,” Daenerys promised him. “Move to avoid the cut, and you will still die, but your dying will be uglier. Stretch out your neck, my lord.” The pale morning sunlight ran up and down her blade as Dany clasped the hilt of the sword with both hands and raised it high. “If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them,” she said, expecting one last curse.

Janos Slynt twisted his neck around to stare up at her. “Please, my lady. Mercy. I’ll…I’ll go, I will, I…”

No, thought Dany. You closed that door. Dark Sister descended.

—Jon II, ADWD

And, of course, let’s not forget about this line:

"Well, he will not want it said that Stannis rode to the defense of the realm whilst King Tommen was playing with his toys. That would bring scorn down upon House Lannister."

"It's death and destruction I want to bring down upon House Lannister, not scorn."

—Jon II, ADWD

If these scenes had been Dany’s, she would have been called a power-crazed mad bitch who’s destined to be the villain of the series. And... people still do that anyway, even though none of her scenes come close to these Jon ones. And no, this does not mean Jon is going to go mad, of course it doesn’t. I love these Jon scenes, and I think that his bursts of anger and emotion are valid and understandable. It just shows how men/boys are allowed to act in ways that would never be possible for women/girls to behave without massive, massive misogynistic interpretations and critique.

[ickaimp]

[HTTYD] Break your heart, steal your crown

Sometimes ya just gotta write angst. Lotta people liked Coming Down is the Hardest Thing, my version of the ‘Hiccup runs away and becomes the “Dragon Master”, Astrid’s offered up as a Sacrifice years later’ tropes without Hiccup being a dick, and there were requests for sequels, which I didn’t do because this was all I had. Two years post Coming Down is the Hardest Thing, 4220 words, angst and some fluff.

"Berk is dying."

The words sat heavily in the air of the smithy, lingering like a spectre between Stoick and Gobber.

Stoick almost wished he could take the words back, but that wouldn't change the accuracy of his words. Berk was dying.

Gobber closed his eyes and sighed, giving him a weary nod of agreement. So he had seen it too. Or more likely, he had seen it in Gothi's last roll of the bones, before she had gone to bed and passed away in her sleep, leaving the fortune out for Gobber to read when he found her body this morning.

He hadn't actually told Stoick what the bones had said, giving him the same world-weary look he was currently wearing instead.

Even without the soothsayer's predictions, Stoick could see it. The twins had left years ago, declaring that the isle was too boring for their pranks, setting sail with only a chicken as their companion. It had seemed like a blessing at the time, less things exploding in their wake, leaving Berk a much quieter place than it had been.

Then came Spitelout's stupidity with Astrid, offering her to the savage Dragon Master. They'd gotten her back, only for her to disappear a week later. She'd left a note that this time was by her choice, but it'd been little comfort.

This left Berk's next generation without any women old enough to be wives. To become mothers to bear future generations. 

With the Jorgenson clan name soiled by Spitelout's actions, Snotlout was no longer able to be Stoick's heir. The other clans would never treaty with someone whose family had literally brought the Dragon Master down on their heads during a meeting of the chiefs. Except for maybe Dagur, and that was not a glowing recommendation, given the Berserker's... instability.

Which left Fishlegs as the only remaining of Berk's next generation to lead. The lad was smart, there was no doubt about it, and he would be fantastic as a second in command, the next Chief's Gobber, he was too quiet and soft to be a leader. The politics would eat him alive. And worse, Fishlegs was aware of this.

There were other children, Gustav and his ilk, but they were too young to start training as the next Chief of Berk. Stoick ran a hand down his beard, more grey than red from the stress and sorrow. He didn't have long enough to train one of them up.

And Berk's numbers were dwindling in other ways. Many had not been able to adapt to life without dragons to fight, finding a peaceful life did not sit well with their warrior blood. They'd left, being adopted into other clans. They'd just lost another family that way today. Stoick wished them no ill will, but if this continued, then they'd find their numbers too small to maintain the community.

Even Gobber was growing bored, not having enough work to keep the blacksmith busy. Without the dragons, there was no need for weapons, and the simple farming tools they had didn't need as much maintenance.  Stoick looked around the smithy, his eyes falling on the curtain leading to a small room that Gobber wouldn't allow anyone into, his own private shrine to his missing godson.

And then there was the loss of Hiccup, the first of Berk's children to leave. The Dragon Master's words, that Hiccup was happy and healthy where he was, was little comfort without being able to verify this. There was little Stoick wouldn't do in order to be able to see his boy again, for even just a moment. Sometimes he wondered if this wasn’t his fault. The path had seemed clear when they were constantly being raided by dragons. But without the raids, he was floundering. His people were looking to him for direction, and he had no experience with peace to know what to do. More and more they seemed to realise this, and left. Seven generations of vikings had lived on this isle, going all the way back to the first chieftain, his many times great-grandfather, and it was starting to look like he’d be Berk’s last chief.

"I wish I had some words of wisdom for ye, my friend." Gobber said softly. "I-"

Stoick jumped as something flew in through the window and landed on Gobber's face.

It was a green and brown Terrible Terror, who was making a high pitched growling sound as he crawled all over Gobber's head. "Don't move." Stoick rumbled, reaching for his sword.

"Ach." Gobber made a sound of annoyance, reaching up and grabbing the Terrible Terror by the scruff of its neck, pulling it off his head. "What're you-"

He trailed off, eyes drifting upwards and Stoick realised that it was the sound of a larger dragon's wings flapping. A Deadly Nadder, unless he missed his guess. Stoick gritted his teeth, feeling fire in his veins again, eager to have something to fight again, to take this rage and frustration out on.

"Oh no." Gobber said, a look of horror crossing his face as he glanced at Stoick. That was all the warning Stoick found himself being spun, his arms being bound behind his back with a pair of iron manacles, and he was flung through the curtain into Hiccup's old room. He landed against something softer than he expected, falling to the ground.

"GRUMP!" Gobber commanded, sticking his head through the curtain and pointing to Stoick. "Sit."

With a complaining groan, something large and heavy pressed down on Stoick. He grunted, trying to push himself up with his shoulders, but the weight was too much for him to get leverage.

"I didnae want you to find out like this." Gobber said, sounding apologetic, the Terrible Terror riding on his shoulder as if this was a common occurrence. "But if you value yer son's life at all, do not make a sound."

Stoick opened his mouth to bellow, only to find a rag shoved unceremoniously into his mouth. He growled, ire filling his veins as Gobber turned away, pulling the curtain shut. The torn fabric didn't go all the way to the ground, leaving Stoick with a clear view of the smithy.

When he got free, and got his hands on Gobber...

A blue and gold Deadly Nadder head stuck it's head into the doorway of the smithy, then carefully stepped in, taking care not to bump into anything in the small building. A crowned pale spectre rode on it's back, white and grey wisps obscuring the figure.

"Gobber!" The spectre greeted the smith with a cheerful voice. The spectre raised an arm, throwing what looked like a bridal veil over their crown, revealing inhuman features covered in glittering blue scales.

"Is good to see you, lassie." Gobber returned the greeting, his voice rolling with affection. The spectre laughed, reaching up for their head and pulling it off-

-Revealing Astrid's smiling face.

Stoick stopped fighting, going lax in surprise. It had been almost two years since he'd last seen Astrid, grim faced and bitter before she disappeared. She seemed to practically glow with happiness now, as she slid off the Deadly Nadder's back, giving a little hop before leaping into Gobber's outstretched arms, giving him a tight hug.

"Good to see you too." Astrid declared, holding him out at arm's length. Stoick could see that she was wearing armour now, covered in scales that matched the Nadder she rode. She wore a skirt, cape, and veil made out of ragged strips of a thin sheer white fabric that seemed to dance in the air when she moved.

The Undead Bride of the Demon was Astrid. Stoick recognised the Nadder now, it was the same one that she'd flown when the Dragon Master had kidnapped Stoick from the Althing.

"What brings ye here?" Gobber asked jovially, the merriment sounding slightly forced. "Not that I'm complaining, but was nae expecting t’see you for another week or two."

A stab of betrayal felt like a knife between his ribs.

"We have news." Astrid bounced and gave a little hip wiggle of delight. It was a gleeful carefree movement that Stoick didn't think he'd ever seen from the usually tacturn lass.

"Hey, wait. No fair." A shadow at the doorway protested, and Stoick found himself growling as he recognized the outline of the Dragon Master and his demonic Night Fury. The Dragon Master swung a leg over his so-called brother's neck, standing upright on his cloven foot and moving towards them. "I wanted to see Gobber's face when you tell."

"Not my fault that you're being slow, my sweet husband." Astrid grinned, giving another skip-hop to give a little kiss to the side of the Dragon Master's scaled helm and Stoick growled, wiggling as he trying to get free, but the weight on top of him didn’t budge.

"Wait a moment." Gobber breathed. "Astrid... Your belly... You cannot mean..." He trailed off, too choked up to speak.

Looking at her in silhouette, he could see what Gobber meant. Astrid's previously flat stomach was curved out in a very distinctive solid roundness.

Astrid was pregnant. And from the casual arm around her shoulders that the Dragon master had around her waist, the babe in her belly was that demon's.

Stoick would kill him. He'd kill him for touching Astrid. He'd rip the foul creature limb from limb, and then he'd get rid of that Night Fury who was sniffing around the room-

All thoughts faded from his mind as the Dragon Master took off his helmet, revealing his face for the first time, and Stoick's breath caught in his throat.

It couldn't be.

The messy brown hair, almost reddish in the candlelight. Green eyes. The fond crooked grin on his narrow face, having finally grown into his ears.

"Hiccup." Gobber said, his voice thick with tears. "Astrid. You've got a wee bairn on the way."

His son. That was his son standing there with an arm around Astrid, the two of them shining with happiness.

His son, the Dragon Master.

"I'm about five months along." Astrid beamed at Gobber, resting comfortably against Hiccup, the two fitting together like matching puzzle pieces.

"We were hoping you'd agree to be the Godfather." Hiccup said, and Stoick didn't know how he hadn't heard it before, in the Dragon Master's dry sarcasm. It was his son's voice, a little deeper than as a teenager, but the nasally tones could only be him. 

"Godfather-?" Gobber echoed in awe.

"It's not dependent on if you take up our offer to live with us." Astrid was quick to assure him. "But we'd like you to be. We wouldn't be having a kid if it wasn't for you."

"You got Astrid out of Berk, and you saved my life by taking me under your wing here." Hiccup said sincerely. "We're also open to them calling you 'Grandpa', if that's okay with you."

Grandpa.

Stoick was a Grandfather.

He felt tears prickle the corners of his eyes. He'd never thought he'd have that chance, not after his son went missing. And here his son was, was, healthy, happy, and with a wee one on the way.

"Och." Gobber shook his head. "I couldn't."

"You can." Astrid grinned, reaching out and taking Gobber's hand in hers, scales and claws curling delicately around calloused scarred skin. "We talked to Valka about it. She laughed and said she's fine with it. Someone else to share the responsibility of dirty diapers."

The tears spilled over his cheeks. Valka, his dear sweet Valka was alive as well.

He remembered now, the Dragon Master saying that he had his mother's eyes, and he did. Skies above, he did. Hiccup had always had Valka's clear eyes that seemed to penetrate and see more than anyone else.

"I mean, you did more to raise me than my own father did. It's only fair." Hiccup added without any trace of bitterness as he gestured around the smithy. "All of my fondest memories of Berk are here."

Stoick's breath caught, feeling as if a sword had just been thrust through his chest.

"Someone had to keep an eye on you." Gobber shook his head dismissively. "Otherwise some dragon would have flown away with your toothpick self."

The Night Fury, who had been circling around in the background, stuck it's muzzle under the curtain. The beast sniffed the air for a moment before poking its head all the way into the small room, it's acid green eyes narrowed into slits as it stared at him, a low warning rumble coming from its throat, lips curling back to show a giant maw full of razor sharp teeth.

Stoick stared back, uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable he currently was. The creature could bite off his head in one bite, and there was no way for Stoick to protect himself.

"Oh nooooo. How terrible." Hiccup deadpanned in the background as Astrid laughed. "Carried away by draaagons."

The great weight on top of Stoick shifted and grunted, and he realised that it was a giant heavy dragon that was currently sitting on his back. The Night Fury crooned what sounded like a question to the creature pinning him down, getting a snore-like rumble in return.

The Night Fury glanced back down at Stoick, giving him a look that could only be described as 'scornful' before turning away with a smug expression and trotting back over to his son. Stoick watched as the beast gave an amused warbling at his son, casually headbutting Hiccup, sending him into Astrid, who took a half step to keep them all upright.

"Oh!" She gasped, then took Gobber's hand that she was still holding and pressing it against her belly.

"They're moving!" Gobber gasped. "Oh, they're a fighter, just like their parents."

Stoick's breath caught again. His grandchild. His grandchild was moving.

"The only thing that really settles them down is when the dragons sing to them." Astrid looked amused. "Even if the dragons are confused as to why I haven't laid an egg yet."

The Night Fury gave Stoick a pointed look, then nudged Astrid's belly with it's broad flat nose, giving a soft affection croon, as if to point out that the creature could touch the babe in Astrid’s belly, but Stoick could not. Stoick choked on the gag in his mouth, silently swearing vengeance.

"Which is part of the reason why we stopped by early." Astrid said gravely, and Stoick wondered how much more news he could take tonight. 

"Valka says I'm probably fine for flying up until I give birth." Astrid said, wrapping a protective arm around her belly. "But we decided that fighting is out until afterwards. So it may be awhile before I'm back in the area."

"Trapper tried to kick her in the stomach." Hiccup growled, and all three dragons in the room echoed the sound, even the Terrible Terror on Gobber's shoulder. The sound covered up Stoick's own noise of outrage at such an act. "Stormfly stopped them, but it gave us all a bit of a scare."

Astrid nodded, leaning against Hiccup, who looked a little anxious, rubbing his hand up and down the blue scales of her arm. "I can still do air support, but the pregnancy is making me exhausted lately. Which is probably only going to get worse." Astrid looked annoyed. "So we're all going to be staying with Valka at least until I give birth."

"It's not like the Hidden World really needs Toothless and I to guard it." Hiccup said with wiry humour. Stoick blinked, finding he had no more room for shock. Of course Hiccup found the home of the dragons. Of course he had. "But if you did decide to accept our offer to live with us, we didn't want you looking in the wrong place and thinking the worst."

"And Valka promises not to cook in your honour when you do show up." Astrid smirked. And Stoick nearly choked on muffled laughter, aware he was crying again. Valka had never been the best cook, but she tried. And it'd been worth every burnt and raw bite he'd choked down.

"Thank you." Gobber's voice was thick. "But I cannae leave just yet. Your Father needs..."

"I know." Hiccup hastened to assure. He stepped forward, wrapping a clawed hand around the back of Gobber's head, resting his forehead against the blacksmith's. "When you're ready, we'll be there. Even if you're never ready, we just want to make sure you know that there is a place for you."

"You just don't want to be the only one with experience making protestetics." Gobber grumbled, and Hiccup laughed, tapping his cloven foot on the ground, making a ringing sound.

Hiccup's prosthetic foot, Stoick realised, watching the spring inside the metal contraption flex. His son was missing a foot.

And Stoick had no idea when or how it happened.

"You caught me." Hiccup didn't sound angry about it as he released Gobber, more jovial than anything. "But it doesn't make it less true."

"I'll think about it." Gobber promised with the air of having said the same thing many times before, taking the Terrible Terror off his shoulder and transferring it to Hiccup's.

"And I'll teach you how to make Dragon Iron when you do." Hiccup said with a grin, his voice both teasing and cajoling.

Dragon Iron, which the Dragon Master was the only one who knew how to make. Because Hiccup had been a smith since he was six years old, put under Gobber's eye to keep him out of trouble.

"Stop trying to bribe me, you brat." Gobber cuffed him upside the back of his head with a grin. Both Hiccup and Astrid laughed, even if the Night Fury gave Gobber a glare. "Now g'wan. Get out of here before you're seen."

"Yeah, yeah." Astrid rolled her eyes and stood up on her toes to give Gobber a quick fond kiss on the cheek. "We'll see you later, one way or another." She informed him matter of factly before putting her helmet back on and climbing on top of her dragon, settling the veil around her shoulders.

"Take care of yourself." Hiccup clasped Gobber's hand, then pulled the larger smith in for a back thumping hug before releasing him. "And say ‘hi’ to Grump for me, wherever he's snoozing at."

"Will do." Gobber agreed blithely. "Stay safe, all of you."

The Night Fury let out a warble as if to say that it was his job to keep them all safe as Hiccup fastened the helmet back on his head, transforming back to the Dragon Master. The beast gave Stoick one last pointed look as Hiccup climbed in it's back, before turning and heading out of the smithy, both the dragons and their riders losing their relaxed easy going postures.

Astrid followed a few heartbeats later, following Hiccup's soft whistle. There was the sound of wingbeats, and then they were gone.

Leaving the smithy empty aside from Gobber and Stoick. It was with a sinking realisation that he realised he probably wouldn’t get another chance to ever see Hiccup again.

The Dragon Master was essentially Chieftain to the dragons, a role that clearly kept him busy and constantly travelling all over the archipelago and beyond. Stoick knew first hand how busy having a newborn kept one as well. It would be months, if not another year before Hiccup would free to visit Berk. And there would be no way for Stoick to know where or when.

Gobber gave a great big heaving sigh before turning back towards Stoick, his peg leg sounding loud against the ground. Gobber moved the curtain aside, and then knelt down, removing the gag from Stoick's mouth.

"I'm sorry y'had to find out this way." Gobber said softly, and the thing that hurt the most is that he could feel how sincerely his oldest friend meant it.

"How long?" Stoick asked, ignoring the way his voice broke.

Gobber gave a thoughtful hum, reaching up and petting the dragon on top of him. "Almost two years now." He finally said. "I recognized Hiccup's work on the blade the Dragon Master gave Astrid when he returned ya both here. Astrid had suspected as much, it just confirmed it for her."

He'd travelled with his son for an entire day, and Stoick hadn't a clue it was him.

Stoick, who had sworn that he'd be able to recognize his son anywhere, any time, in any place.

Horror went down his spine as he remembered the accusations he'd hurled at the Dragon Master after the dragon had crashed into their camp. Threatening to kill the Dragon Master in order to find his son.

His son, who had been right there. Who had told him while hidden behind a mask, that Hiccup was alive, healthy and happy where he was, far away from Berk.

Away from Stoick.

"About a month after Astrid left, she stopped by for a visit, ta let me know she was fine." Gobber continued, nudging the dragon off of Stoick. The giant creature grumbled as it slowly obeyed, leaving Stoick still shackled and on the ground. "The next visit, she brought Hiccup, and we cried together for nearly an hour."

Gobber paused, checking his pockets for his keys, then started to work on the manacles around Stoick's arms. Stoick had broken through stronger bonds before, but he didn't have the energy in him now.

"They stop by every every other month or so to check in on me, let me know how they're doing, or send a Terrible Terror with a letter." Gobber continued quietly. "Valka's been by once as well, weren't real comfortable here and left just as quick. Too many memories of blood shed."

The manacles released with a click, and Stoick slowly moved his arms, his shoulders protesting having been twisted in such a position. He carefully sat up, turning to face the monster that had been on his back.

And found himself looking at the least dangerous dragon he'd ever set eyes upon, for all its enormous size. It was large enough that it had probably only been it's head that had been resting on Stoick's back, and looked like it was already asleep with its eyes half open.

And it looked like a giant turd. Large, brown, and lumpy.

"This magnificent fellow is Grump." Gobber motioned to the sleepy dragon, with a fond expression. "They left him with me for back up, and so I have a way to meet up with them some time. He's been running the forge fires for me. Never realised how helpful having a dragon in the smithy could be before Hiccup mentioned it, even if the great lump sleeps most of the time."

Grump slowly turned an eye in Gobber's direction, thick club of a tail bouncing a few times as if realising that they were talking about him. He briefly wondered how many months the dragon had been sleeping here and no one had even suspected.

Stoick felt as if everything he had believed in had suddenly been turned upside down and shaken about. Dragons possibly weren't evil. His son was alive. He had a grandchild on the way. Hiccup was the Dragon Master.

"Is he happy?" Stoick asked, mindful of the tears still on his cheeks. "Hiccup?"

Gobber thought it over. "Aye." He finally said, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. "The lad weren't never made for being a Viking. Living amongst the dragons brings him not only comfort, but joy. Astrid and Valka too. Once you've earned a dragon's loyalty, there ain't much that can break it. And the three of them fit among them like they were born for it."

Stoick nodded. "And you?"

"Me?" Gobber looked surprised at the question.

"Will you be joining them?" He had the invitation and the dragon.

Gobber hesitated, looking at the slumbering dragon. "I'd like to." He finally admitted. "Some day. But not any time soon."

Because he was staying here, for Stoick's sake. He'd told Hiccup that clearly enough.

Gobber was his oldest and dearest friend, loyal to a fault, and Stoick couldn't blame him for keeping HIccup's secrets. Not when Stoick's reaction to meeting the Dragon Master hadn’t been nearly so generous, even as he realised that the Dragon Master was only trying to help in his own way.

"You should join them." Stoick said, rising to his feet. Gobber looked like he wanted to protest, and Stoick stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "When you're ready."

Gobber closed his mouth and nodded. Stoick nodded back, then walked out of the smithy. The cold air hit the tear tracks on his cheeks, and he ignored it, trudging up the hill to his cold empty hut.

He had gotten his wish, to know that his son was not only alive, but thriving. Astrid too. And Valka as well, his wife living amongst dragons for nearly two decades now. He was so elated to know that they weren’t dead. 

Stoick wouldn't trade that knowledge for anything, not even with the understanding that the reason for their happiness was that they were living their lives far away from him.

-fin- (no, there are no plans for anything further in this au, but if it sparks something in you, feel free to play.)

[iphoenixrising]

The Demon You Know

Day 1 Urban Fantasy AU | Magical/Supernatural Creatures | Time Travel

So, something a little off the grid for my first day of DickTim Week 2021. Special thanks to my wonderful babe @vellaphoria for the beta and the incredible peeps on the Capes and Coffee discord (looking at you @themandylion, @strawberryjei and others). Also need to show my undying love for @chippon because babe, we are making it work.

**

When the sun creeps up over the sky in Gotham, then it’s time to GTFO. Capes in the daytime aren’t the usual for the city, and Red Robin has been playing it too late, staying out far past O’s warning to bring it in for the night. So, really, he’s only got himself to blame.

His penthouse perch has seen more use in the last few months since, welp, Gotham and the fact he likes to get away from the team mentality sometimes, like to return to his roots and run the rooftops like when he was still that Robin. His trips to the Manor had become more frequent since B was back in the cowl and things in the family seemed to be returning to some semblance of normal. 

Well, as normal as it could get, really.

But all that goodwill and positivity is literally ghost. Red’s hands are shaky and his inner calm is absolutely blown. He’s ducking into his perch to throw his suit off, grab his duffle bag full of sundries and fake idents, then he’s going to hit the airport as fast as he can get a flight the hell out of town, away from the terrifying sight.

(He should just call Bart or Kon or Cassie, tell them he needs an out faster than he can arrange it himself, he needs to get away from–)

He knows he fucked up when the slight sounds, small and metallic in nature, make it past his pulse thumping in his ears.

Like a horror flick, he slowly turns as the front door gives a groan and is pushed open by a very familiar palm.

Dick’s blue eyes fall on him like a ton of bricks, on Red Robin’s feet frozen to the floor, his suit only half on, and no way he can get far enough to throw himself out a window.

Fuck.

“So,” Dick keeps his voice soft, footsteps easy as he steps inside Tim’s penthouse and closes the door behind him, “you finally found me out.”

Keeping his mouth shut in times like this has really saved his ass before, so Red doesn’t say a word, keeps every muscle in his body ready to spring for the right second –

Watching the would-be robber struggle in Dick’s grip, watching the light show brighten overwhelmingly, seeing what had to be-had to be feeding.

“I figured it would be you if anyone, actually, so I’m not really surprised, just… disappointed.” Dick continues softly, only in jeans and a t-shirt since Nightwing was oddly missing from the patrol roster last night.

And Red is apparently the only one that knows why.

“But that doesn’t mean I can just let you go, Timmy,” Dick isn’t stopping, his whole body lax while Red is wound tight, backing away from the man he thought he knew. “I really wish you hadn’t found out like this. I...I had other plans.” 

Whirlybirds and pellets aren’t going to help him here. Hand-to-hand and martial arts, aerial acrobatics, none of it is going to make a difference. 

His throat goes dry when Dick’s eyes get more and more blue, when his former mentor doesn’t stop advancing, and Red Robin is running out of room to back away.

“I tried to save you, Timmy. I tried so hard to get you away, out of Gotham, even if you went because you thought you had to find Bruce, I’m the one that gave you the compulsion to leave.” The low laugh is edged with something desperate, “why the hell couldn’t you stay away?”

“This is my city, just as much as Batman’s. You taking my fucking cape wasn’t enough,” Red Robin bites out, back thumping against the kitchen counter, realizing Dick had backed him into the corner. “How did you keep it from him? Constantine, Zatanna, all the magic users he has on speed dial and he never figured you out? No one in the JLA or Titans did?”

That makes Dick pause.

“He never had to. He knew what my parents were before they ever died, Timmy. Haley’s Circus came to Gotham regularly. Bruce always knew.”

The information blast hits him painfully, that Bruce didn’t bother to tell him and look at where they are now.

“And he didn’t try to help you?” Red, Tim, gapes at the still silhouette that used to be someone he thought he knew like he knew himself. Someone that’s always had this secret. “He didn’t try to –”

“Cure me?” Dick’s mouth lifts in a semblance of a smile Tim knows. “There is no cure for this, Timmy. It’s what I am. What my parents both were, the curse of the Romain Bababiljos. It’s unfortunate for me both of them were cursed, that just makes the...the hunger two-fold.”

And it’s just a few more steps, a raised hand that makes Tim flinch back, but only a fingertip taps the edge of the domino, makes the whiteouts raise.

Automatically, with everything he’s learned, studied, experienced about supernatural creatures, he ducks his head so he isn’t looking directly into those eyes. That doesn’t stop Dick from bracketing Tim in, both hands on the counter, their bodies a breath apart.

Dick laughs softly, close enough for Tim to feel the breath on his face. “The Titans...I never had to tell them. By then, I could control myself, at least mostly. The JLA? I’m one of the Batman’s proteges. I’ve been fighting crime since I was eight. They believe in me. There was never a reason for any of them to look too deeply past the surface.”

“Wh-what do you mean mostly?” Tim’s heart slams in his chest, “how many people have you killed, Dick?”

“Do you have any idea how awful the hunger is?” And the lower Dick’s voice goes, the harder Tim’s heart starts to pound. “Surviving on hugs and family affection is tantamount to starvation for someone like me. It’s so easy to kill someone during sex because the hunger is so much I can’t control it sometimes. Anyone I’m with is in danger.  That’s why I couldn’t stay with Babs, she’s too human. The one time I came close–” 

Dick breathes again and all Tim looks at is the span of throat, thinking of the soft, vulnerable parts, anything he can use to get the fuck away.

“–but I didn’t. I have...willpower sometimes. I drained her so close, though. She was-was so fragile, Timmy, and I was so hungry. I’d been starving for so damn long. She was hospitalized for longer than she’d been when the Joker shot her, and I said never again. But Wally and Kory were...different. I could go further with him without killing them, I could get more full than I’d been in a long time. It was still dangerous for them, but I was so far gone by the time...”

“They’re both still alive. Babs is still alive. Does she–?”

“Remember? Of course not. None of them do. I made sure of that, Tim, so none of them would be afraid of me.”  And the air changes when Dick gets closer, his eyes get brighter, and Tim almost chokes with the almost touch to his body under his suit. “But, you are going to be different, aren’t you? I’m not going to be able to convince your mind that what you saw was a dream.”

“So what? You’re going to make me “disappear”? You’ll give Bruce some sob story about how I got tired of the vigilante life and left for college or some shit? Going to bury me where no one will ever find me?” He isn’t looking at Dick’s face, can’t see his own end coming, can’t believe he’d put all his faith and belief in this man only to have it all come to this.

Tim laughs wetly, blinking rapidly, and everything suddenly comes together. “He won’t ever come looking for me anyway. You made sure of that when you made Damian your Robin. Nice plan, Dick. No one is going to give a shit if I’m never seen again anyway.”

And it’s stupid not to at least try, not to duck and kick out, trip up whatever Dick really is, to break a window and fucking run, try to get Bruce, Clark, Kon and Bart and Cassie, to get anyone to listen to him about what Dick really is, to try to save himself.

(If you’d never figured out Dick was Robin, if you never put yourself in front of him, you’d be safe now. Miserable but safe.)

Even if it’s his own brain pan spitting this out, he knows it’s bullshit. 

If he’d never approached Dick Grayson with proof Batman was losing his mind, Tim Drake wouldn’t have reached twenty-one. The way his life was going, he would have probably hung himself long before getting to this stage in his life. If he’d never had Bruce or Alfred or Dick or Steph, if he’d never had Robin, never had Young Justice or The Titans, if he’d never had the Clench, never felt the rumble under his feet as Gotham had fallen, if he’d never had the agony of losing everyone in his life, if he’d never had the drive to prove his adopted father was alive…

The civilian Tim Drake wouldn’t have had the strength to make it through life alive.

So if this is the way he goes out, if Dick is the one that ends it for him–

There’re worse ways to go.

He’s not going to be the Joker’s next victim or Ra’s al Ghul’s heir with a mix of Lazarus Pit crazy. The HIVE, the Light, the mass of aliens he’s fought, any number of Rogue Gallery thugs, none of them will be the ones to take him out.

But this?

His career as Robin started out with Dick Grayson, so maybe...maybe it’s fitting this is the way it all ends. 

He sucks in a breath and finally tilts his head up, looks up into those electric blue eyes, and lets his breath out so so slow.

Because Dick is looking at him with watery eyes, with a grimace, with something Tim can actually recognize.

But those eyes light up in his penthouse perch, take on a supernatural glow, Dick snatching his wrists in bigger hands, pulling Tim closer, the heat getting through layers of Kevlar and Nomex. And just like that, he can’t pull away, can’t pull back.

There’s no way to defend himself when Dick pulls him in, when he expects to get his throat ripped out, his neck snapped, something important crushed, for the darkness to take over and his heart to slow down to a sad, weak pitter patter.

He can’t defend himself when Dick kisses him, opens his mouth, and stuns him into going completely slack.

“I told you,” Dick growls softly when he pulls back, bends enough to get Tim laid out over his shoulder, “I had other plans.”

But Tim can’t reply, can’t do anything other than lay across Dick’s back as the Romani love deamon strides down the hallway and kicks open the bedroom door.

**

And if Tim Drake survives until morning, shocking the hell out of the both of them, staring up at Dick’s surprised face and glowing blue eyes, if the soft touch to his jaw contrasts sharply with the bruises and red marks blossoming all over his body from an intense night with his supernatural mentor and best friend, if Dick doesn’t whisper, “finally, finally, my mate,” before kissing him. 

If the power Dick drains from him doesn’t kill him, doesn’t do more than give him the most amazing span of unending multiple orgasms to ever happen, if Dick isn’t fully satisfied for the first time in his life. If Dick doesn’t call them both off patrol for the next three nights, carts Tim back to his apartment, refuses him clothes and computers and tech, tells the Titans they’re taking a break from crime fighting while Tim is tied and gagged in his bed, sated enough to listen hazily with half-mast eyes. 

If Dick doesn’t hand feed him while he’s getting feeling back in his legs (finally) and give him the full run-down about his parents. If the strange mark on his abdomen doesn’t get warm whenever Dick’s hand is on it, fingers tracing the edges, making those blue, blue eyes dilate in possessiveness. If Tim doesn’t eventually escape with his sanity intact and a little terrified how much his body craves only to have Dick chase after him with single-minded purposes to convince him they’re meant to be.

Then only the man with cameras all over Gotham, waiting and watching with bated breath and fear for his Robins, unmitigated relief when his theory proves true, would be able to give all the details.

[starksinthenorth]

Musings on ASOIAF Ladies and Ambition

I’ve noticed people use “ambition” to describe Sansa and Daenerys as if it’s a bad word or an insult (often called “power hungry”). Yet in the text of the series, neither of them are shown to be ambitious people as a core characteristic. I blame the series for a lot of this, because it failed to explore the internal dialogue of Sansa, Arya, and even Cersei, who ends up more humanized than either of them by the end (because of the maybe baby).

Cersei Lannister is the classic ambitious ASOIAF lady, whose point-of-view is introduced in perhaps the most iconic sentence of any introductory chapter:

She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all.

I can’t think of a sentence in ASOIAF that better introduces the internal thoughts and view of its leading character.

In comparison, Sansa’s first sentence is receiving news about her father’s whereabouts, Daenerys is shown her new dress to meet Drogo, and Arya has crooked stitches again. Arya’s works to frame her relationship with Sansa and her internal struggle to fit the feminine Westerosi mold, while Sansa and Daenerys are setting up plot points. None of these interactions signal ambition, bad or good. Daenerys did not arrange her wedding, Sansa is just told the information by her Septa, and while Arya is aspiring to have straight stitches, that’s hardly an ambitious goal for a girl of nine.

Fans rarely, if ever, deny Cersei’s cruel, cold, often stupid ambition. In fact, it’s one of the reason people seem to love her. She’s internally open about what she wants - power - and when she wants it - now:

All of them are burning now, she told herself, savoring the thought. They are dead and burning, every one, with all their plots and schemes and betrayals. It is my day now. It is my castle and my kingdom.

- AFFC, Cersei III

The rule was hers; Cersei did not mean to give it up until Tommen came of age. I waited, so can he. I waited half my life. She had played the dutiful daughter, the blushing bride, the pliant wife. She had suffered . . . She had contended with Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and her vile, treacherous, murderous dwarf brother, all the while promising herself that one day it would be her turn. If Margaery Tyrell thinks to cheat me of my hour in the sun, she had bloody well think again.

- AFFC, Cersei V

Cersei is the definition of a power hungry lady, scheming and cheating at every point. Yes, Sansa learned from her, but most of Sansa’s internalized lessons of Cersei’s were to do the exact opposite. 

"The night's first traitors," the queen [Cersei] said, "but not the last, I fear. . . . Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. . . . The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy."

"I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.

- ACOK, Sansa VI

Cersei isn’t the only POV character who views herself outside of conventional Westerosi standards and aspires to something beyond being a wife and mother. Arya Stark has ambition writ clear on the page, though it is not so cold or denying other people their rights or chances. Compared to Cersei, Arya doesn’t want everything, crown and throne and kingdom and all. She just wants something, and even that is denied to highborn women in Westeros. Even when she asks her father about her future, a man who wants to do right by his children and loves them, Eddard Stark is blinded by Westerosi patriarchy:

Arya cocked her head to one side. "Can I be a king's councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?"

"You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon."

- AGOT, Eddard V

With Arya in this, I see some parallels to Elaena Targaryen, who was so good at math and management she served as the secret Master of Coin while her husband carried the title. Elaena was “more willful than Rhaena, but not as beautiful as either of her sisters,” yet is also said to have been “more beautiful at age seventy than at age seventeen,” growing into herself like Arya is expected to. They both even cut their hair, Arya to hide her gender and Elaena to hide her beauty, both instances to gain freedom from captivity in the Red Keep.

Despite both these examples of ambition - Cersei’s all-encompassing, without care for how it affects the realm, and Arya’s attempt to find a place in the world outside the Westerosi model - it still becomes an insult when people speak of Daenerys and Sansa.

Critics claim Sansa is ambitious, and negatively so, because she “wants to be queen.” But this criticism misses a vital point of Sansa’s character. Unlike Cersei, she does not want to be queen because of the power and political influence, but because she will be living a song. In the start, Sansa’s got her head in the clouds, not to the dirty world of politics. Her very first chapter lays out this motivation incredibly clearly:

All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs.

When she thinks of Joffrey and being in love with him, it’s because he’s “handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs” (AGOT, Sansa II), 

Alternatively, it has been said that Sansa is ambitious because of her claim to Winterfell. But compare how Sansa thinks of her claim to how Big Walder Frey does. Despite being far down the inheritance line, he is certain he will someday possess the Twins. He’s likely willing to kill his family to become Lord of the Crossing, and already has killed Little Walder.

In comparison, Sansa isn’t the one who realizes her claim as heir to Winterfell, even after her two younger brothers are believed dead. It’s Dontos who mentions it, and after she still thinks that Robb will have sons to inherit.

But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

- ASOS, Sansa II

Sansa’s not ready to kill Bran and Rickon if they show up. Her arc is about taking off the rose-tinted glasses and seeing reality, but also working to make reality like a song. For example, her idea of the Tournament of the Winged Knights for Sweetrobin. It’s a song come to life, all by her making. TBD how the ending goes, of course, but it shows that trajectory.

And finally, Daenerys.

Daenerys is not driven by some lifelong desire to win and dominate. She’s forced into it, a la Brienne’s “no chance and no choice.” If Daenerys were raised in a stable environment, I have a feeling she’d be much more like Sansa: dreamy, hopeful, sweet and studious. Happy.

But instead, her eyes are open.

When she’s introduced as a character, she shows an awareness for the schemes and politics of the world. She knows her brother is called the Beggar King in the Free Cities, and is doubtful of the smallfolk’s secret toasts to Viserys III that Illyrio Mopatis claims happen across Westeros.

Like Sansa and Cersei, there’s evidence of her goals, hopes, and wishes in the very first chapter:

"I don't want to be his queen," she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. "Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to, I want to go home."

. . .

Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio's estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him.

Daenerys remembers home as the house with the red door in Braavos. It’s her brother whose only home and stability was the Red Keep, not her.

Throughout her journey of power to take back the Seven Kingdoms, she is doubtful at every turn and most of her wishes are for happiness, for peace, for stability.

Dany had no wish to reduce King's Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

- ACOK, Daenerys II

A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?

- ADWD, Daenerys II

Even later, Daenerys is determined to bring peace to the lands she currently rules. She does plan to return to the Seven Kingdoms, but it’s not driven by pure ambition. And this is, notably, from a conversation when Prince Quentyn Nymeros Martell asks her to come back and claim them now, saying she has allies for that conquest. And still she turns him down, with promises that it will only happen eventually:

"Daenerys said. ". . . .One day I shall return to Westeros to claim my father's throne, and look to Dorne for help. But on this day the Yunkai'i have my city ringed in steel. I may die before I see my Seven Kingdoms. Hizdahr may die. Westeros may be swallowed by the waves."

- ADWD, Daenerys VII

And yet in both Sansa and Daenerys, these visions and hopes for the futures they might have are considered unbridled ambition, although they turn more on happiness and peace for themselves and their people, rather than the type of ambition Cersei has, which is clearly her own power and being heralded above everyone.

Daenerys’ thoughts in her sixth chapter of ADWD have the same energy as Sansa’s “I will make them love me.”:

"A queen must know the sufferings of her people."

. . .

A queen must listen to her people, Dany reminded herself. 

Daenerys has figured out how to make her people love her, by wearing her “floppy ears” and appealing to the masses, listening to them, et cetera. She’s also a bit ahead of Sansa in the realm of ruling, to be sure.

But how are these similar thoughts ambition in either of them? It’s an attempt to empathize and connect, not to throw away and disregard and rule by force and domination. Both these ladies are more nuanced, and the fandom does them a disservice by painting them as ambitious or power-hungry when at the end for both of them, it’s a desire to have a happy, stable, loving life.