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dilatorywriting · 2 years ago

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Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Everything's all fun and games until everyone assumes you're just being a Horny BardTM when you have, in fact, actually been kidnapped by a dragon.

🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Spice

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

“Wow,” Ace whistled, long and low, and you fought a twitch in your jaw.

He and Deuce were certainly beat to shit, but not quite ‘hurled dozens of feet through the air and a roof’ level of shit, so your spell must have cushioned at least a little of the fall. The pair of idiots stood at the entrance of the cavernous room, shifting back and forth on their heels and faces twisted up in varying degrees of horror.

“I mean, I know there’s a stereotype about bards and whatever,” he continued, aghast. “But, really? Really?”

You grit your teeth. The pointed chin resting atop your head shifted and you felt claws flex at your hips.

‘My friends will probably be coming back here soon to find me,’ you’d entreated, not five-minutes prior.

‘Your friends?’ the dragon had repeated, slow, like the concept of comradery was something completely alien. And then his eyes had narrowed. ‘Ah. They intend to steal you away,’ he’d said with all the indignation of someone who’d clearly forgotten he had literally just proclaimed his intent to the do the exact same thing.

Sparks had shot out from between his teeth, and the already too-sharp black nails tipping his fingers had curled into talons—ashy darkness trailing up his arms like a seeping stain.

‘What? No,’ you’d lied. ‘They would never. I’m sure they’re just curious. Whether I’m still alive or not, I mean.’

‘Oh,’ he’d blinked, that venomous ire seeping from his gaze as if it’d never been there to begin with. ‘I suppose that does make sense.’

So when your loveable idiots had eventually stormed in—swords drawn, banners flying—you schooled your countenance into something as placid as possible. Something that perhaps conveyed ‘I would love for you guys to help me out here, but also I would really like not to see the three of us become tonight’s entrée. So like. Maybe sit this one out.’ But whatever expression you ended up making clearly wasn’t doing what you were aiming for if Ace’s first instinct was to accuse you of Horny Bard Shenanigans.

Or maybe your face wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was just the nearly seven-foot-tall, naked, dragon man draped across your shoulders. Who’s to say.

“This has nothing to do with that,” you snapped, ears burning.

“Do with what?” The newly dubbed Tsunotarou rumbled. He was pressed close enough that you could feel the worlds roll through his chest—annnnd you were going to stop yourself right there and focus very, very, intently on getting through this conversation alive.

“Human things,” you spluttered frantically.

“Ah,” he hummed, his chin shifting from the crown of your head to dip down and instead rest atop the curve of your shoulder. “You’ll have to explain it to me later, then. I do find our cultural differences very intriguing. You humans are so… new age.”

“Explain it to you later…?” Deuce frowned, and you could see the words zipping around behind his eyes to slowly put themselves together into a cohesive thought. He shot ramrod straight and whipped his arm out accusatorily. “You’re staying?!”

“Of course,” you said, with all the enthusiasm of someone with a knife held to their throat. You locked eyes as obviously as you could—hoping he’d get the message. “It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

You could see the pinched look on his face, the heavy weight of discontentment tugging at his brow. There was a war being waged in that man’s head—a battle between what lingering, frail, shreds of rationality and comprehension remained, and the desire to be a good friend and save our bard! Because mama said I should be good to my friends! You stared him down hard, silently begging, pleading, to just let it go. The fingers gripping his axe tightened and you could hear the leather of his gauntlets creak with strain. Tsunotarou hummed, something like amusement coloring the throaty rumble, and it tingled all the way from the tips of your toes to the cheek he was tucked up against. The claws at your side flexed—not deep enough to hurt, but firm enough to know that funny as the notion of a teeny, human, barbarian hurling themselves at a dragon was, it wasn’t going to be a good enough joke to earn said dragon’s mercy.

“Well, duh, you’re staying!” Ace interrupted slickly, sliding in front of Deuce and his burbling rage like a fox finally skulking from its hole. “Look at what a great new friendyou’ve made! You can’t just leave him here all on his lonesome, now can you?”

The low rumble skirting along your back melted into something that was very nearly a purr. Your eyes flickered to your captor’s face—or as much of his face as you could manage to make out, considering he had plastered himself to your side like an overgrown cat. His lips were curled back into that smug, contented, smirk—the tips of his sharp canines just barely peeked out over his bottom lip.

“We’ll come back and check on you, of course,” Ace continued. He waved his hand at the dragon, like they were old chums shooting the shit over a pint of ale in a tavern. “You know how it is. Gotta make sure they’re settling in all right—make sure you’re keeping with your honorable intentions and whatnot. How’s two weeks from now sound?”

“Two weeks?!” you wailed.

Tsunotarou grumbled, clearly also displeased. “I agree. That seems far too soon.”

“Two months?” the ginger countered easily.

“Ace!”

The dragon seemed to consider this new proposal quite thoroughly. You could feel his long lashes flick down against your cheek as his eyes went hooded, heavy—slipping back into his thoughts to ponder upon this newly proffered timeline. After a long, long, moment, he lifted himself from your neck and plonked his chin back down atop the crown of your head.

“That is acceptable.”

Deuce looked entirely unimpressed. You had a feeling you looked like you were about to shit yourself. Ace, naturally, seemed more or less content.

“Well then!” the traitor chirped. “We’ll see you when we see you then, yeah?”

You grit you teeth, but your gaze flicked to your other, kinder, friend and you bit back the slew of heinous insults brewing on your tongue. Deuce still looked more than ready to jump into the fray, consequences be damned. And you were not going to let your terrible, horrible, no-good, rotten luck end all his valiant attempts at redemption when he inevitably attempted to go toe-to-toe with the business end of a dragon.

“…Are you sure you’re gonna be alright here?” Deuce asked, face twisted up in distaste.

There was a pissy rumble from over your shoulder.

“Do you doubt my abilities as a host?”

“Of course he doesn’t!” Ace cut in, ever the bootlicker. “And besides,” he drawled, elbowing his companion in the ribs. “You know how bards are. I’m sure this is right up their alley.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Deuce went pale—then green. Ace turned on you with a smile that was all vinegar. “Right?”

‘I should not let them be murdered horribly,’ you repeated to yourself past the crimson rage leaking into your vision. ‘I should not let them be horribly murdered—’

“Righteo!” you forced yourself to spit. And if you somehow managed to survive these next two months, you were going to string that red haired traitor up by his pinkies and feed him to the crows that lived outside your window.

Your friends slipped away slowly, hesitantly—Deuce looking like he’d been struck down by a horrid case of food poisoning or something else equally as stomach churning. Once they were gone, Tsunotarou lifted his chin from your head so that he could crane his neck over your shoulder and look at you more directly. Not that he had to try very hard, seeing as he was gigantic, whether on two legs or four.

“What was the small, ugly, one referring to?” he asked curiously. “About your profession?”

Your life flashed before your eyes.

“Bards are known for their hearty curiosity and drive to experience new situations,” you repeated, verbatim, from the little adventurer’s handbook you’d been gifted by Lord Crewel all those years ago.

“Oh,” he hummed, nodding into your hair. “Of course.”

The first major hurdle cropped up barely two hours later.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

The dragon blinked slowly, as if mentally tallying through a list of human bodily functions to try and figure out just what on earth you were talking about.

“Ah,” he said after a moment. And then he began to melt away—limbs stretching and cracking, and porcelain complexion bubbling up with inky miasma so thick and dark it may as well have been tar. It was both horrifying and awe-inspiring to watch, like some great creature of old emerging from an arcane cocoon. And not two minutes later, a familiar, ebony, dragon was standing before you in all its glory.

He lowered his snout and nosed around your shoulders for a moment, snuffling and searching. And then he pinched your collar between his teeth and hauled you into the air.

You tried not to scream. Really, you did. But humans just weren’t meant for flying, let alone while suspended between the jaws of a beast that could swallow them whole. By the time you landed, you were so wobbly and windswept that you nearly collapsed to the ground then and there, bladder be damned. Tsunotarou warbled something deep in his chest, and you glanced up past the thin veil of icy sweat dripping into your eyes.

He'd placed you into a blown-out enclave that had probably once been a very nice hallway. And in the corner was the remains of what indeed looked like a bathroom. You straightened yourself as much as you could and began hobbling woozily towards what you hoped was a proper, enchanted, toilet and not just some block of stone with a bowl at the bottom.

There was an echoing thud from behind you and you jumped, startled, and turned to see what the ruckus was all about. Tsunotarou had sat his massive head at the entrance. And he continued to sit there. Watching.

“Uhm,” you mumbled. “Thank you.”

He stared, unmoving. You sighed and squashed your fingers into your temples.

“…We’re going to have to establish some boundaries,” you said. The dragon’s gigantic, neon, eyes closed and opened—like a question. “Boundaries,” you repeated. “Things that we do on our own.”

The beast’s lips flattened into a grumpy line and he grumbled something unintelligible at you, spitting loose sparks from behind his overly long canines.

However, mouthful of razor-sharp teeth in your face or otherwise, everyone had to draw the line between pride and self-preservation somewhere. And having to piss in front of an audience was apparently yours.

You waved your hands in a shoo shoo motion and those amethyst crests flattened irritably atop his skull. He settled in further, the structure of the terrace groaning beneath the weight of his scaly chin. You worried your lower lip between your teeth. It wasn’t exactly like there was a door or anything that you could just, like, shut in his face. And beating him off with a broom or something like a stray cat was out of the question—just out of sheer impossibility. You were going to have to get creative here…

An idea popped into your head and you leaned forward with a charismatic little smile that you’d unleashed on so many traders, and shopkeepers, and unsuspecting bakers that it ought to be considered a weapon in its own right. You’d practiced it in the mirror for weeks.

“I’ll tell you a story,” you offered, and his slitted pupils rounded a bit—intrigued. “That’s what I was before all this, you know. A storyteller.” You had his full interest now, those purple crests rippling behind his horns. “But you have to close your eyes,” you said. “It makes it easier to imagine that way.”

He stared you down curiously for a heartbeat or three, and then Tsunotarou’s gigantic, luminous, eyes slipped shut.

You sighed and plopped yourself down on the decrepit, stone, toilet.

“Once upon a time,” you began, sweeping your cloak out in front of you to give yourself at least a little bit more dignity. One of those crests twitched at the sound of swirling fabric, but his eyes remained dutifully closed. “There was a bard who made some very terrible life decisions—"

The next bump in the road came the following afternoon.

“People tend to wear clothes,” you said.

He canted his head at you. “I am not a person.”

Oh for fucks sake.

Tsunotarou was stretched out along one of the many, grand, banisters lining what you assumed had once been a ballroom—lounging in the dim light like a lizard sunning itself on a rock. Apparently, before your arrival, he’d very rarely, if ever, shed his wings and scales for this more compact form. And he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying spreading himself out across all the new surfaces that the change in size allowed him. Part of you would have thought it was a bit endearing—seeing this eldritch monster merrily falling into the ‘if I fits, I sits’ way of life. The other part was sick of nearly collapsing in cardiac arrest every time you caught sight of his very naked self reclining across some new piece of furniture.

“Yes,” you intoned, deadpan. “But you look like one.”

He blinked slowly, as if putting together a thought. “I see. The dissonance of observing a vestige of humanity which does not actually fit the mold of a human must be disconcerting to you.” He rested a knuckle lightly against his chin as he pondered. “In the same way I may feel uncomfortable if you took on the form a dragon with no teeth or tail.”

“Sure. Whatever,” you bemoaned. “Just. Pants? Please?”

He observed you quietly for a moment, amusement dancing across his features. And then he grinned, putting the pointed tips of those impressive canines of his on full display.

“Well I suppose if you’re going to ask so sweetly.”

He sat up with a stretch that was outright spitting in the face of your plea for modesty, and then spread his hands. His black-tipped fingers twisted gracefully, artfully, and the cavernous room filled with the scent of packed earth and ozone. Soft puffs of emerald light glided along his arms, and in their wake sprouted tendrils of sheer, silken, sleeves. Those dancing lights traveled merrily from his shoulders to his hips, and then back again—spinning magic into fabric like little, ghostly, seamstresses as they went.

The soft glow faded and the silk settled around him with all the delicacy of a cloud. It was stunning, certainly. A true work of beauty. With billowing sleeves that cinched neatly at his wrists, and swept into an open window across his front. The fabric wrapped itself snuggly at his waist and draped low enough to offer at least what should have been the bare minimum of modesty. It pooled across his shoulders, splaying out into a split cape that looked eerily similar to the wings he dawned in his other, scalier, form.

But this lovely new ensemble—as gloriously shiny and magical as it was—was still nearly fucking transparent. And yeah, the shadows curling along the spiraling silk did a decent enough job at obscuring what ought to be obscured. But at the same time, somehow this impression of cloth, of loose fabric that dipped below his collar bones and hung uneven and open across his pale chest, was worse than the outright fucking nudity. Scandalous. Like walking in on a seduction scene in a trashy novel.

“…maybe you should just do whatever makes you comfortable,” you managed to cough out, gaze slipping downwards of its own accord. And then more down. You gulped. “D-Don’t feel the need to change yourself on my account.”

He stared grumpily at his swanky new outfit. And then back at you. His lips pursed into a pout.

“You don’t find it pleasing.”

Your eyes rolled up to stare miserably, tormentedly, at the ceiling, and you began reciting every religious verse you could think of. Thou shall not steal or covet. In the name of the Mother, the Crone, and the Hallowed Throne. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Aye, Macarena—

“It looks perfectly nice. I just think that you have as much of a right to be happy in your skin as I do,” you reiterated. “I—I mean, you’re already keeping yourself human more often than not just so we can talk.” Which was true enough, but also mostly an attempt to make it seem like your concern was genuinely aimed at him and not your steadily rising blood pressure.

“…you’re incredibly strange,” he grumbled after a moment, his brow tugging low on his forehead. More pouting. “And impossibly frustrating to read.”

The heat radiating off your face like a fucking active volcano felt ‘possible’ enough to you, but what did you know.

“That’s why you’re keeping me around,” you reminded him.

Ten minutes later, he was sprawled out with his head in your lap, the ridges of his horns bumping your hips and inky black hair spilling over your thighs. Naked as a jaybird.

“Tell me another story,” he hummed, eyes slipping closed.

“Sure,” you agreed, gaze once again firmly locked on the hundreds of cracks in the ceiling. You’d probably have them all memorized by this evening, or at the very least have managed to count them all up a dozen times over.

You were halfway through some yarn about armies made of playing cards and worlds beyond looking glasses when Tsunotarou sighed, heavy and bone deep. Content. And then he turned to bury his cheek into the rough fabric of your traveler’s pants with a rumbling drawl that was not unlike a purr. His nose pressed itself into the inseam of your thigh and your brain fuzzed out like you’d been shot pointblank with a Wand of Lightning Bolts.

“Child of Man?” he huffed after a moment—one, neon, eye flicking open to glare up at you grumpily. “What happened then? To the cat that smiled too wide and the man with the mad hats?”

“R-Right,” you squawked. “Uhm—so as I was saying—”

You stared back at all those cracks and started counting again from zero.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus x Yuu #Dragon Malleus #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Twst Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 2

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1000sunnygo · 4 months ago

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One Piece Academy chapter 47: Lost Dog part 2 (Quick translation)

(finally!)

part 1 | index

Ace: 'Cause you're supposed to find him faster workin' with someone than just searching by yourself.

Smoker: You think I'll work with a thug?

Ace:

Smoker:.....

Ace: Onigiri~!

Smoker: Not here. Search the opposite side of the road.

There's mud from yesterday's rain...but no paw prints over here. He's on the other side.

*paw prints spotted*

Ace: Y'know, you could be a great detective!

Smoker: Spare the nonsense talk. It seems the prints disappeared here.

*looks at the signboard*

Ace: This is... an underworld?

Smoker: Wouldn't take it for a place where a dog would willingly enter.

Ace: Nope, he went in.

He chased these butterflies flying in the darkness...

and then rolled down this gentle slope.

*walking inside*

Random thugs: Who the hell are y'two??

Ace, Smoker:

Thugs: Eeeik!!

...

Ace: The road branched off, huh.

Awoooo!!!

*listens to the echoing howls*

Ace, Smoker: The eighth branch!

Ace: Not bad!

Smoker: Seems like some unknown folks are over there.

Onigiri: Waff!

Ace: Onigiri!

Boss thug: What, so it's yer dog?

Thug underling: Looks like a rare breed, it'll rake in the big bucks!

Ace: Can't recall seeing this uniform.

Smoker: They're not from the Yonkou Schools. Just a pack of nameless losers hanging around with bad adults.

Boss thug: Who you callin' losers, you numbskulls?! Don't think New World Middle is the only school with thugs!!

Thug underling: Um, sorry to interrupt...

but it seems they're...!

Thug boss: WHAT ? That guy is the second command of Whitebeard, Fire fist Ace??

Nonsense!! You mean...

Thugs:... THE fire fist Ace???!

What's a Whitebeard commander doin' down here?

And the one beside....ain't that White Chase Smoker??!

Boss thug: Don't panic, ya bastards! Look here!

Boss thug: Nevermind a human hostage, we've got a dog! Move a single step, and this lil guy's done for!

Also! Our school's under a school that's...... under Yonkou Kaido-san's school!!

Meddle with us, and that'll call a war between Whitebeard and the Oni Middle! Better watch yer step too, Smoker!!

Ace: Ah... that's a no-go. Gotcha, won't move a step.

Boss thug: HAHAHAH! Go get 'em!!

*pop pop*

Ace: "Hotarubi" 👐

Thugs: Waah, so pretty!

Onigiri: Waff!

Boss thug: Whoa? Hey!!

Ace: *catches Onigiri*

Yosh! Now, Smoker!

Smoker: Don't order me around!!

`WHITE OUT!!!`

Thugs: yeowww!!

Ace: It's a wrap!

Boss thug: Stop!! Anything but the 'Fire fist', please!! Not the 'Fire fist'!!!

AAAAAH..!

Continues in Reblog ⬇️

#one piece #one piece academy #one piece gakuen #portgas d ace #one piece Ace #one piece smoker #smoker one piece #one piece tashigi #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #donquixote rosinante #one piece corazon #one piece jack #sorry for taking so much time raah

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thecreaturecodex · 22 days ago

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Draxie

Image © Paizo Publishing, accessed at Archives of Nethys here

[The last of the variant sprite lineages from PF 2e's Bestiary 3, and I think the cutest. A little redundant, with faerie dragons (or fey dragonets, I guess) already existing, but when has redundancy ever gotten in the way of monster designers?]

Draxie CR 3 CG Fey This little humanoid is barely a foot tall, with a scaly hide, a long tail and membranous wings. They have small sharp teeth and horns and frills of skin instead of hair.

Draxies, or dragon sprites, are playful, flighty and keen pranksters. They often engage in escalating prank wars with pixies and fairie dragons, both of whom they get along well with. Draxies can be patient when planning some manner of joke or trick, and may spend months or even years for the payoff for a perfect joke. Draxies claim to have their origins in the powerful faerie dragon Elucredrassa, who upon her death reincarnated into a hundred draxies, who spread throughout the First World and then to the Material Plane. Draxies still honor her with the elucera, a soul-bond a draxie might make with a creature or creatures they are particularly fond of. Entering an elucera with a draxie makes one that draxie’s family as much as any blood relative; draxies take their obligations to elucera-mates more seriously than anything else.

Draxies rarely start fights, but are happy to finish them. A draxie is much more skilled at annoying an enemy into fleeing or parleying then they are with direct violence; their first order of business when attacked is usually to breathe draxie dust on an opponent. Unlike the breath of a faerie dragon, which induces a sort of stoned euphoria, draxie breath can cause this along with several other mind-influencing abilities. Even a draxie doesn’t know what its breath will do at any given moment, and they have great fun adapting to the situation as it elapses. If a draxie wants to do permanent harm, it usually relies on its mind thrust spell-like ability.

Draxies come in a wide variety of colors, and most of them have multicolored fringes running along their heads in place of hair, along their backs and on the tips of their tails. Their nails are usually worn long but are too fragile to be used as claws. Their jaws, however, are remarkably powerful for their size. Draxies are omnivorous with a taste for fruit and insects.

Draxie CR 3 XP 800 CG Tiny fey Init +4; Senses low-light vision, Perception +9

Defense AC 17, touch 16, flat-footed 13 (+2 size, +4 Dex, +1 natural) hp 22 (5d6+5) Fort +4, Ref +8, Will +5 DR 5/cold iron

Offense Speed 15 ft., fly 40 ft. (average) Melee bite +8 (1d8-1) Space 2 ½ ft.; Reach 0 ft. Special Attacks draxie dust Spell-like Abilities CL 3rd, concentration +6 (+10 casting defensively) At will—dancing lights, ghost sound (DC 13), mind thrust I (DC 14), prestidigitation 3/day—disguise self (DC 14) 1/day—glitterdust (DC 15), invisibility

Statistics Str 9, Dex 18, Con 13, Int 16, Wis 13, Cha 16 Base Atk +2; CMB +4; CMD 13 Feats Combat Casting, Great Fortitude, Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +12 (+8 when jumping), Bluff +11, Disguise +11, Diplomacy +11, Fly +16, Knowledge (nature) +11, Perception +9, Perform (comedy) +11, Stealth +20 Languages Common, Sylvan, touch telepathy SQ natural guise

Ecology Environment any forests Organization solitary, pair, flight (3-6) or family (7-24) Treasure standard

Special Abilities Draxie Dust (Su) As a standard action once every 1d4 rounds, a draxie can breathe magical dust in a 15 foot cone. All creatures in the area must succeed a DC 15 Will save or suffer from one of the following random effects (roll 1d4): 1. charmed (as per charm monster) for 1 minute 2. asleep (as per the sleep spell, no HD limit) for 1 minute 3. loses the last 5 minutes of memory 4. sickened, staggered and immune to fear effects for 1 minute This is a mind influencing enchantment effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. A draxie can use this ability once every 1d6 rounds, but a creature cannot be suffering from more than one draxie dust effect at a time. Natural Guise (Ex) When a draxie uses disguise self, it can appear as any Tiny creature with the fey or animal types. Touch Telepathy (Su) A draxie can telepathically communicate with any creature it is in physical contact with, regardless of whether they share a spoken language.

#pathfinder 1e #pathfinder 2e #fey #draxie #dragon #faerie dragon

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will80sbyers · 7 months ago

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Do you still have the list of movies that inspired ST4? I had a picture of it but I lost it and I haven't been able to find it since. Please and thank you in advance.

Yep!

Long post warning lol

300

2001: A Space Odyssey

47 Meters Down: Uncaged

12 Monkeys

28 Days Later

13th Warrior

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls

Altered States

Amelie

American Sniper

Analyze This

Annihilation

Aristocats

Armageddon

Assassins Creed

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Arrival

Almost Famous

Batman Begins

Batman V. Superman

Basket Case

Battle at Big Rock

Beauty and the Beast

Beetlejuice

Behind Enemy Lines

Beverly Hills Cop

Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey

Billy Madison

Black Cauldron

Black Swan

Boondock Saints

Borat

Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Burn After Reading

Broken Arrow

Blade Runner

C.H.U.D

Con Air

Cast Away

Congo

Constantine

Children of Men

Cabin in the Woods

Crank

Casablanca

Carrie

Crimson Tide

Clueless

Dukes of Hazzard

Don’t Breathe

Death to Smoochy

Doom

Dark Knight

Dogma

Deep Blue Sea

Dreamcatcher

Drop Dead Fred

Die Hard

Die Hard 2

Die Hard 3

Don’s Plum

Dances with Wolves

Dumb and Dumber

Edward Scissorhands

Enter the Void

Ex Machina

Event Horizon

Emma (2020)

Forrest Gump

Fargo

Fisher King

Full Metal Jacket

Ferris Bueller

Fallen

Fugitive

Ghost

Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Ghostbusters

Good Fellas

Girl Interrupted

Godzilla: King of the Monsters

Get Out

Good Will Hunting

Hackers

High Fidelity

Hellraiser 1

Hellraiser 2

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Hidden

High School Musical

Hurt Locker

Heat

Hunger Games

Highlander

Hell or High Water

Home Alone

I am Legend

It’s a Wonderful Life

In Cold Blood

Inception

I am a Fugitive from Chain Gang

Inside Out

Island of Doctor Moreau

It Follows

Interview with a Vampire

Inner Space

Into the Spiderverse

Independence Day

Jupiter Ascending

John Carter of Mars

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

James Bond (All Movies)

Julie

Karate Kid

Knives Out

Kingsmen

Little Miss Sunshine

Labyrinth

Long Kiss Goodnight

Lost Boys

Leon: The Professional

Let the Right One In

Little Women (1994)

Mad Max: Fury Road

Magnolia

Men in Black

Mimic

Matrix

Misery

My Cousin Vinny

Mystic River

Minority Report

Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Neverending Story

Never Been Kissed

No Country for Old Men

Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

North by Northwest

Open Water

Orange County

Oceans 8

Oceans 11

Oceans 12

One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Ordinary People

Paddington 2

Platoon

Pulp Fiction

Papillon

Pan’s Labyrinth

Pineapple Express

Peter Pan

Princess Bride

Paradise Lost

Primal Fear

Prisoners

Peter Jackson’s King Kong

Reservoir Dogs

Ravenous

Rushmore

Road Warrior

Rogue One

Reality Bites

Raider of the Lost Ark

Red Dragon

Robocop

Shooter

Sky High

Swingers

Sword in the Stone

Step Up 2

Spy Kids

Saving Private Ryan

Shape of Water

Swept Away

Star Wars: Return of the Jedi

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

Superbad

Society

Swordfish

Stoker

Splice

Silence of the Lambs

Source Code

Sicario

Se7en

Starship Troopers

Scrooged

Splash

Silver Bullet

Speed

The Visit

The Italian Job

The Mask of Zorro

True Lies

The Blair Witch Project

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

Tangled

The Craft

The Guest

The Devil’s Advocate

The Graduate

The Prestige

The Rock

Titanic

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

The Fly

Tombstone

The Mummy

The Guardian

The Goofy Movie

The Peanut Butter Solution

Toy Story 4

The Ring

The Crazies

The Mist

The Revenant

The Perfect Storm

The Shining

Terminator 2

The Truman Show

Temple of Doom

The Cell

To Kill a Mockingbird

Timeline

The Good Son

The Orphan

The Birdcage

The Green Mile

The Raid

The Cider House Rules

The Lighthouse

The Book of Henry

The A-Team

The Crow

The Terminal

Thor Ragnarok

Twister

The Descent

The Birds

Total Recall

The Natural

The Fifth Element

True Romance

Terminator: Dark Fate

The Hobbit Trilogy

Unforgiven

Unbreakable

Unleashed

Very Bad Things

Wayne’s World

What Women Want

War Dogs

Wedding Crashers

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape

Welcome to the Dollhouse

Welcome to Marwen

Wet Hot American Summer

What Lies Beneath

What Dreams May Come

War Games

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Weird Science

Willow

Wizard of Oz

Wanted

Young Sherlock Holmes

You’ve Got Mail

Zodiac

Zoolander

#stranger things #ask #st4 #st4 movies

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icarusignite · 3 months ago

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Master Post

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Hey, Ace here, hope you have a good time on my page!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ (she/her), Ravenclaw, INTJ, fanfic writer of many fandoms, self-taught artist, kpop/anime enthusiast, feminist, procrastinator extraordinaire.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Tiktok/wattpad/AO3/instagram: ace_asterisk

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ AO3 | Wattpad | Carrd

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Join the taglist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Fandoms I write for

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ All completed series and longer stories are uploaded fully on wp/ao3. Oneshots are Tumblr/AO3 exclusive.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ for writing updates: @icarusignite-fics

(all fics are reblogged onto there)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ DMs and asks are always open! Drop by and chat <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Requests: OPEN

House of the Dragon

Series

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ An Eye for an Eye Masterlist (Aemond Targaryen x OC)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Before the Sky Falls Masterlist (Aemond Targaryen x OC)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ For Whom the Bell Tolls | HOTD World War 2 AU

(Soldier! Aemond Targaryen x Nurse! Reader)

Oneshots

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I hate you I love you (Cregan Stark x Fem! Reader)

The five times you told Cregan Stark you hated him, and the one time you actually meant it.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I want to fly with you on dragonback (and eat only cake) (Alicent x Rhaenyra)

Basically the title. Rhaenyra finally gets to take Alicent on that dragon ride and eat cake....and maybe kiss the girl she loves.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Like an old melody, my heart resumes (Daeron x Fem! Reader)

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3

After years apart and with several misunderstandings between them, you meet Prince Daeron at what is meant to be his betrothal feast. When secrets and unspoken desires come to light, you and Daeron are faced with a choice: to let go of the past and embrace a love that has always burned between them or allow your tumultuous history to keep you apart.

The Last Kingdom

Oneshots

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

(King Alfred x POC! Fem! Reader)

Parts: 1 / 2

You are a prominent scholar from Baghdad, visiting Wessex to learn more about English culture and try to help its ailing monarch with your medical expertise. However, conflict arises when you find yourself falling for the Catholic king, knowing he cannot give you what you deserve.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Valhalla Bound (Finan x GN! Reader)

During the ransacking of Rumcofa, you save Osferth thus exchanging his fate for yours. aka you die and Finan's reaction to that

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Night Terrors (Sihtric x GN! Reader)

Sihtric has a nightmare, and he accidentally snaps at you. What comes after is the most awkward confession of his life and you are oblivious af.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Praying's just a poor man's way of begging

(Sihtric x Fem! Reader)

You are Earl Ragnar's youngest daughter and the boy you've spent many pleasant afternoons with as a child was none other than Sihtric Kjartansson. Reunited after years apart, will the two of you be able to face the truth of your feelings or will it all end in heartache?

In this labyrinth of time, our souls entwined

(Modern AU Finan x Fem! Reader)

Finan and his friends witness a bar fight during their night out and Finan feels a magnetic connection to the hero of the fight. This can be read on its own but it can also be seen as a continuation of my earlier fic Valhalla Bound where you died and now your reincarnation meets Finan's in another world and that's why you seem so familiar.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Go ahead and cry, little girl (Aethelstan x Fem! Reader)

You are Sihtric’s daughter from his first wife. Your mother dies after he leaves her for his current wife and you blame him for his death. Aethelstan is yoiur dearest childhood friend.

Ateez

Series

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Danse Macabre Masterlist (Jeong Yunho x OC)

Oneshots

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Pirate Ateez Masterlist

Percy Jackson & the Olympians

Oneshots

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I don't want your sympathy (i just want myself back)

(Luke Castellan x GN! Child of Hypnos Reader)

Terribly injured after returning from his quest to the Garden of Hesperides, Luke Castellan turns to the only person who can help him sleep.

Criminal Minds

Oneshots

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Steady Your Heart in Mine (Spencer Reid x GN! Reader)

Exam season brings you a lot of stress and Spencer Reid is there to walk you through it. Established relationship, descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks.

Lockwood & Co.

Oneshots

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I thought I dreamed her (Lucy x Lockkwood)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I love you forever, I'm not a dreamer (Lucy x Lockwood)

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes:

Series

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ These Violent Delights Masterlist

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duxbelisarius · 19 days ago

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Dune At Home: The First Dornish War, Part Four

Thank you to everyone that has followed the series thus far (you can follow the series via the Master Post and AO3); I hope you've enjoyed it and have found it informative! Now that we're done discussing the strategies of both sides when the war began, we can discuss how the Dornish and Seven Kingdoms armies conducted their campaigns (ie Operations) and fought battles (ie Tactics), as well as the use of the Targaryen dragons.

I want to start by covering dragons, since they play an important role in how the war is perceived; before discussing tactics however, I want to throw my hat into the ring on another subject: dragon size. /u/servantoffire gave a pretty good estimate for Balerion's size some years ago, and while I think his length figure of 126 feet long is a solid estimate for Vhagar during the Dance, when she was almost as large as Balerion, my estimates for Balerion take a different approach. We are told by Tyrion that Balerion could swallow an aurochs whole, or a mammoth from Ib; since aurochs existed in our world, we can use their height figure of two meters at the shoulders. Ib being an island, I think these mammoths are likely similar to the dwarf mammoths of Wrangel Island rather than the free-roaming specimens north of the Wall, and their heights would be c. 2 meters like an aurochs. In order to estimate Balerion's size, I compared this 2 meter height to the jaw size of one of the largest reptiles known to have lived: Hoffmann's Mosasaur, estimated at c. 40 feet (c. 12.2 meters) in length from snout to tail.

The best estimate I've seen suggests that it could open it's jaws 1 meter, and my estimate for Balerion's jaws would be 3.5 meters to fit an aurochs or dwarf mammoth with some room to spare, giving us a body length of 140 feet from snout to tail. For Balerion's wings, /u/servantoffire used a Flying Fox's dimensions to arrive at a wingspan of 453 feet; my estimate is based on Dany's comment in her first chapter of ACOK regarding her dragons wings: "their span was three times their length." This gives Balerion a wingspan of 420 feet (128m) with a body length of 140 feet (c.42.7m), and using the 126 foot (38.4m) length for Vhagar gives her a wingspan of 378 feet (115.2m). These measurements allow us to extrapolate the size of other dragons in the series: Aenys I and Aegon the Uncrowned's dragon Quicksilver was a quarter the size of Balerion at her death, putting her at 35 feet (c.10.7m) long with a 105 foot (32m) wingspan; Caraxes was half the size of Vhagar during the Dance, or 63 feet (19.2m) long with a 189 foot (57.6m) wingspan; Arrax was one-fifth the size of Vhagar (c. 25 feet by 75 feet, 7.6m by 22.9m) and Vermax and Tyraxes would have been slightly larger and smaller respectively. After this we can only speculate, but if we propose that the difference in size between Vermithor and Vhagar during the Dance was similar to the difference between our estimates of Balerion and Dance!Vhagar, c. 14 feet (4.3m), Vermithor would be 110 feet (33.5m) long with a 330 foot (100.6m) wingspan. Tessarion and Seasmoke were both a third the size of Vermithor, giving them a length of c. 37 feet (11.3m) with a wingspan of 110 feet.

The smallest dragon for which we have measurements is Baela's Moondancer, described in F&B as no larger than a warhorse in 130 AC; her size is relevant not only for giving us a sense of how small a dragon can be an still fly with a rider, but also because determining the size of a warhorse in George's world will be relevant for Part 5, where I plan to discuss the Dornish Marches. From John Pryor and Elizabeth Jeffries' analysis of Medieval horse transport ships (Age of the Dromon, 304-333) and Ann Hyland's research on Medieval and Ancient Roman horses (Medieval Warhorse, 143-148), a 12th century Medieval warhorse would have been around 15 hands tall from the hoof to their withers (where the shoulder meets the neck; 1 Hand = 3 inches, 15 Hands = 5 Feet). Hyland further estimates that a Roman horse would have been between 13.5 and 15 hands, with 16 hand horses not being unknown for Ancient and Medieval breeds, meaning a height range of 4'5" to 5'3" (1.4 to 1.6m).

Based on how dragons are depicted alive and in heraldry in TWOIAF, the forelimbs of the dragons appear to make up half the span of the wing, meaning that Moondancer's wings would each have been 10'6" in length for a wing span of c. 21 feet (6.4m), with a body length of 7 feet (2.1m), using the aforementioned estimates for warhorse height. By comparison, the largest known flying animal discovered to date was Quetzalcoatlus Northropi with a wingspan of 36 feet, equal to a Cessna 172 four-seater utility aircraft. Given George's already established problems with scale which we've discussed in this series, I think it's safe to assume his warhorses are much larger than they actually were, and Moondancer in turn is somewhat bigger. A height of 18 to 20 hands at the withers would give her a wingspan of c.24 to 26 feet (7.3 to 7.9m) and a body length just north of 8 feet (2.4m).

My reason for investigating dragon sizes is to help illustrate just how massive the Conquerors dragons were, to give some indication of how deadly they would have been in combat. We obviously know that dragons can fly and breath fire, but one activity that seems quite underappreciated about dragons is that they can also dig. Leaving aside the likely origins of dragons as creatures created magically by crossing fire wyrms with wyverns as proposed by Septon Barth, we know from the books and elsewhere that even large dragons can tunnel and make burrows. Despite steadily increasing in size, Rhaegal and Viserion are still able to tunnel through the brick and earth foundations of the Great Pyramid of Meereen, using their fire and claws to make a cavern large enough for Viserion to hand upside down from its ceiling. The Cannibal was the largest dragon alive during the Dance after Vhagar and Vermithor and is said to have 'made it's lair' within the dragon mount, while George also talks about dragon lairs and 'deep caverns' under the dragon mount which likely required some effort on the part of the dragons to render suitable for dwelling.

It is surprising given these tendencies that no attempt was made to go after the Dornish in their tunnels and caves, assuming that our hypothesis from Part 2 is true. We estimated that it could have taken 3 months for Aegon's host to reach King's Landing from Dorne, during which time the garrisons he left behind ought to have been trying to locate where the Dornish population was hidden. Even a single dragon would have a assisted these efforts immensely given their flying and digging capabilities, alongside what should be heightened senses of smell, hearing and sight which should be considerable for magical apex predators. Like the Cappadocian subterranean dwellings, the Dornish hideaways would have needed shafts connected to the surface for access clean air and sunlight, as well as to provide chimneys for fires and to allow wells on the surface to access water sources further below.

Like Cappadocia, the Dornish could not have disposed of animal and human waste in underground rivers they depended on for water, so 'nightsoil' would have been stored in jars and disposed of on the surface. Livestock being kept underground would also have needed opportunities to graze and stretch their legs on the surface, creating further opportunities for the garrisons and dragons on the surface to locate them. Once entrances could be located, a dragon would have made short work of them like a kind of hellish Clifford the Big Red Dog. We noted in Part 3 that blocking the passes and forcing the dragons to clear them could allow the Dornish to target the riders, provided the ambushes had been planned and set-up in advance; attacking the caverns would mean less risk since the caverns need to be kept hidden, and any troops stationed nearby on the surface would be a liability.

The other issue regarding dragons in the First Dornish War is the manner in which the Dornish attempt to fight while the dragons are at large. TWOIAF tells us that the Dornish "harried and ambushed the Targaryen forces, then would scamper beneath their rocks as soon as they saw the dragons take flight," but this raises serious questions. For starters, why are the dragons taking flight? We mentioned 'writing to lose' at the end of Part 3 and it's hard not to think that this is what is happening, as the Targaryen dragons should be in the air as much as possible to monitor events on the ground. The size of Aegon's army means its column should be long enough to attack it without the immediate risk of a dragon intervening, so it makes little sense why the Dornish are taking such risks. If we use Balerion as an example, his incredible size means that Aegon cannot ride him on foot as he did in Oldtown at his coronation, since his claws and weight would ruin any of the roads in the Prince's Pass (and probably should have ruined those of Oldtown too).

Short of resting or clearing obstacles, Balerion should be in the air every chance Aegon gets, but the Dornish tactics also make little sense. While harrying and harassment might be possible with small numbers of troops, the purpose of an ambush is to surprise a foe and maul or annihilate their forces or at least put them to flight, especially though not always if the foe is superior in number. The presence of a dragon poses a problem since withdrawing the moment it takes off makes it unlikely that the losses inflicted on the enemy are severe, rendering the entire action pointless. Nor can it be assumed that such a timely withdrawal would be possible, since a melee developing or counterattacks by the enemy could make it difficult or even impossible for the attackers to withdraw without great loss. Unless means have been planned for in advance to mitigate the dragon's ability to intervene, there is no reason for the Dornish to attack at all when a dragon is on hand to assist Aegon's forces.

In the interest of treating the Dornish Marches with greater detail in Part 5, the last tactical or operational subject I want to discuss is the conduct of Aegon's forces in the Dornish Desert. We already mentioned in Part 3 that whether George knows it or not, Harlan Tyrell and his men should never have reached Hellholt, but this is only the tip of the questionable writing iceberg. In explaining the plight of the Highgardeners, F&B tells us it was the second year of autumn and it was hoped winter would arrive soon and bring more water and less heat to the desert. The Dornish sun was unrelenting however, and with the local water sources poisoned the Tyrell host lost almost all it's horses and a quarter of its men. We're given no indication of how they obtained water otherwise so even without our logistical knowledge we can still assume that the water they carried with them would not have lasted long, and Tyrell's host would have needed to force march most of the distant at the cost of significantly more men than the 25% they lost.

The weather does raise problems for the plot: the rainy season in both Spain and Israel/Palestine begins in autumn (roughly October-November), and we should expect this to be the case in Dorne given those regions were influences for George's depiction of Dorne in the books. George insists that Dorne receives enough rain even in the summer to remain habitable, so we should expect that by autumn there should already be some relief; if we're to believe that this autumn has been more dry than usual, this poses a serious problem for the Dornish. If 1 BC and 4 AC have already been write offs agriculturally as we suggested in Part 2, a dry autumn in 3 AC would mean an additional year of slim returns owing to reduced rainfall, in addition to the difficulties organizing planting and harvesting while the population at least attempts to remain hidden (Aegon sends a delegation in 3 AC to negotiate, which would have reported any activity by the Dornish that they could observe). The autumn of 3-4 AC being hot and dry should also have ruled out marching to Hellholt since finding water in the desert would have been difficult with or without the Sandy Dornish poisoning water sources.

Whether or not the Tyrell host was sent to Hellholt, the question of water supply would have been on the mind of Harlan Tyrell regardless of the circumstances and climate in which he was fighting. According to George, the Reach and Stormlands rarely get snow, and almost never in Oldtown and Dorne. Even if the climate is more temperate in the Reach proper and the Honeywine Valley (north and south of the line Bandallon-Brightwater Keep-Horn Hill respectively, inclusive in the former case) compared to Dorne with more abundant water, heat and exposure to the sun should still be an issue for the population. Harlan Tyrell was steward of Highgarden for House Gardener prior to being named Warden and Lord Paramount of the Reach by Aegon; it's almost certain he was in charge of supplying and quartering Mern IX's massive host before it marched to join Loren I Lannister's at Goldengrove. We have no reason to doubt TWOIAF when says that Harlan proved a 'capable steward' for the Reach, which makes it that much more unfathomable that he lead his host to Hellholt in the first place.

F&B says that it was Aegon who divided his host and sent Tyrell against Hellholt, implying that Aegon arrived at the decision and Tyrell supported it. Although F&B has Tyrell claim that Aegon's host could defeat any Dornish army without Balerion, clearly intending to show his arrogance, there's a difference between arrogantly underestimating your opponent's forces and ignoring the supply needs of your own host despite leading it through a desert. One is absolutely arrogance but the other is ignorance and outright incompetence, and it's the latter which is implied by the almost chiding way in which Gyldan states that 'men drink more' in the heat, as though Tyrell would have been unaware of this fact despite hailing from a kingdom whose climate is almost too warm for snow. Aegon and Harlan Tyrell should both have access to the archives of the Citadel and those of the Gardener and Durrandon kings as well as those kept by the noble houses of the Reach and Stormlands, they cannot have passed the 4 years between Aegon's coronation and the invasion of Dorne is blissful ignorance of what they would face. Water supply is a necessity for warfare at all times, and only becomes that much more important if water is scarce where operations are taking place.

The 10th century Byzantine manual On Campaign Organization and Tactics refers to the danger of operations when the enemy is at large and water is scarce, but what it says is applicable regardless of whether or not the enemy is close at hand:

13. The risk involved in marching through regions without water while the enemy is on the move.

In addition to other things, this too must be borne in mind: When the enemy are expected it is dangerous to lead the army through places in which there is no water, especially during the summer. In the winter the troops can often last for the whole day without water but in the summertime, not even to the noon meal. The men will perish along with the horses. It is a terrible thing to have to engage in two battles. I mean the one against the enemy and the one against the heat when water is lacking. If it should be necessary, however, they should choose a laborious route of three or four days to that shorter one which has no water. For it is preferable to march safely but laboriously along that long road which presents no danger than to choose the short one and fall into danger." (Dennis, Three Byzantine Military Treatises, 285)

The anonymous writer refers to many of the Empire's enemies from Arabs and Turks to Bulgars, Russians and Pechenegs, but there is no indication that water is any less important in Balkan Europe than in the border region of modern day Turkey, Syria and Iraq.

Things are only made worse by what F&B tells us about the occupation of Hellholt; while it was believed Hellholt was well placed to respond to rebellions, "the river was sulfurous and the fish taken from it made the Highgardeners sick." Of course this implies that no one in Aegon's inner circle much less Aegon himself made any attempt to gather information about Hellholt in the 4 or so years prior to the invasion, let alone the year leading up to the invasion. This is not an error of judgement made in the heat of the moment, this is a systemic error that could have been avoided years in advance, and which raise serious question about the competence of Aegon and his lords (more on this in Part 6). More confusing still are the reports that the Qorgyles and Vaiths were ambushing Tyrell foraging parties that ventured too far west or east. As we noted in Part 3, Sandstone and Vaith are 150 miles or more away from Hellholt, meaning that the foraging parties and their assailants have to be crossing incredible distances despite the dry autumn and the hiding away of the Dornish population making it unlikely that any forage could be found to begin with.

Our discussion of tactics and operations will continue in Part 5, so the 'fix-it' section here will be fairly short. Much of these problems are already solved by what we did in Part 3, namely scaling back the scenario of the First Dornish War to make it more manageable. Tyrell never enters the western desert and the Dornishmen launch ambushes or when the dragons aren't there or if their effectiveness is mitigated by the terrain, so these scenarios never have to be depicted (in fairness to George, the quote about ambushes does not appear in F&B, so he seems to have cut it entirely). I'll have more to say about the dragons in Part 6, but the fact that the First Dornish War is less than half as long in our scenario (4-7 AC vs 4-13 AC) limits the damage they can inflict. Thank you for reading, and stay tuned for Part 5!

#asoiaf #grrm critical #fire and blood #fire and blood critical #dorne #westeros #house targaryen #house martell #history #military history

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woodstock-posts · 10 months ago

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#snoopy #world war 1 flying ace #peanuts

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the-bi-library · 1 year ago

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Here is the part two of my bisexual BIPOC books posts!

Part 1 here

Books listed:

I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me by Jamison Shea The Relic Spell: Book 1 of the Phyrian War Chronicles by Jimena I. Novaro The Warlock Snare by Jimena I. Novaro Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert The Aurora Circus by Viano Oniomoh Rescues and the Rhyssa by T. S. Porter Far Sector by N. K. Jemisin and Jamal Campbell Xeni by Rebekah Weatherspoon Flip the Script by Lyla Lee A Scatter of Light by Malinda Lo The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson Shatterproof by Xen Sanders The Fall of Whit Rivera by Crystal Maldonado Scavenge the Stars by Tara Sim Zara Hossain Is Here by Sabina Khan When Tara Met Farah by Tara Pammi Royally Yours by Everly James For Sizakele by Yvonne Fly Onakeme Etaghene More To Love by Georgina Kiersten False Hearts by Laura Lam Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany Tim Te Maro and the Subterranean Heartsick Blues by H. S. Valley Ace of Shades by Amanda Foody Becoming Dinah by Kit de Waal Caught in a Bad Fauxmance by Elle Gonzalez Rose The Black Veins by Ashia Monet Hearton by Amy Jo Cousins

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incandescentlysomething · 8 months ago

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Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 2 P.1

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 7390 (both parts)

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.

A/N: Canon compliant but things change around. Currently cross-posting on A03. Will be approximately 12 chapters aligning with season 1.

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2

124 AC

Princess Aelinor loved the Dragon Pit. If she had been permitted to, she might have spent all day there, hiding from the world, perhaps with a book under her arm, in the company of the creatures she loved above all else. Even if she were sleeping on the straw, it still would have been perfect.

Well, Aemond would have to be there for it to truly be perfect.

She did love the dragons though, it was true, nearly as much as Aemond did. Her own dragon egg had hatched when she was only small, but had grown at a rate that surpassed even the dragon keepers estimations. She now had the largest of all her family’s young dragons. Darrax had outgrown Sunfyre, and based on his wing size the dragonkeepers expected he would grow even larger still. Aelinor had yet to fly on Darrax, though she had mounted him on several occasions.

Aegon said it was a pity that such a beast of war had been tamed by a little mouse, but Aelinor did not mind her meekness. She would much rather spend her days learning about and spoiling her dragon than riding him into battle. She was quite content to decorate Darrax’s pen with pretty wildflowers rather than battle insignia. Aemond was usually with her, though he focused more on the dragon than the decorations. Darrax, as an extension of her own heart, allowed Aemond into his company, even permitting the older boy to stroke his scales on occasion. Her dragon was fiercely protective, but he had good taste in character. She knew it meant a great deal for Aemond to be so close to her dragon, when he did not have one of his own.

“The Dragon Keeper said they shall soon have a saddle ready for you,” Aemond said. He was sitting on a rock in Darrax’s cave, studying the dragon with a careful gaze. “Perhaps this one will work better.”

“It is not the saddle that is the problem,” Aelinor reminded him. “But the reins. And I fail to see what can be done about it.”

Darrax gave a huff, as if in sympathy, and Aelinor reached up to pat his black scales. In the torchlight they glowed dimly, but she knew that if she were to take him up into the daylight they would shine a thousand shades of green and deep blue. It always reminded her of the heavy blue pendant that had not left her throat since she was four years old.

“Don’t say that, Lina,” Aemond protested. “You have a chance to fly, and you must give everything to take it.”

Aelinor shook her head, “Aemond, it is true that Darrax could bear me as a rider, but I will never be able to command him as a dragon rider should. My hand is—”

“Damn your hand!” Aemond shouted, jumping to his feet. Darrax let out a hiss in warning. “You’ll never be able to if you don’t try.”

She knew why it frustrated him so. Despite his best efforts, her uncle had never been able to claim a dragon, and his own egg had never hatched.The other boys teased him relentlessly, often driving him to riskier actions as he sought to have a dragon of his own. Aelinor could not bare to tease him over it, her heart being void of such cruelty, but she could see why it was hard for him to watch her settle for less.

Lifting her hand close to the torchlight, Aelinor sighed. “I can’t hold the reins, Aemond.”

“Then we’ll find another way,” he insisted. “Darrax will learn to respond to different commands, or I will—”

“Or what? You’ll ride with me? And you shall hold the reins while I give commands?” She was teasing slightly now.

“We’ll find a way,” was all he said, though his gaze had settled on her hand.

In the five years since her accident, Aelinor’s hand had never really improved. The wounds had closed, and she had spent many days on bedrest as the maesters tended to her. Throughout all of that, Aemond had stayed right by her side, and it had often seemed as if it pained him more than it pained her. She sometimes thought that he might even blame himself for her injury, though she never would.

“You know what I think?” She said, changing the subject.

“What is that, Lina?”

Aelinor smiled. “It is time for Jace’s lesson. Come we can go watch him fumble over his High Valyrian again.” She did not often tease her brothers, but their inability to master the tongue of their ancestors did make her chuckle. And she knew it made Aemond happy, if only slightly.

“Very well,” Aemond offered a curt bow to her dragon. “Until we meet again, Darrax. Come, Lina.”

She grabbed her leather glove from where she had left it, and carefully pulled it over the curled fingers of her left hand. The glove was itchy and uncomfortable, but she had only been able to handle a few months of mutterings about how unpleasant her hand was to look at before she gave in to Queen Alicent’s suggestion and began to wear a glove. Any chance she got to take if off, she did.

The two linked arms as they made their way up from the tunnels and toward the center of the Dragon Pit, Aelinor cheerfully greeting each of the keeps as they passed. In the past few years, the nine-year-old princess and the twelve-year-old prince had become a familiar sight to the keeps, more often than not attached at the hip. It was common knowledge that if Aemond Targaryen was sulking around the Dragon Pit, one just needed to guide him to the princess to drastically improve his mood. There was some hope among the more concerned dragon keepers that her influence might calm him from his relentless and reckless determination to claim a dragon.

“My mother should have had her baby by now,” Aelinor commented.

“And you did not wish to be there?”

“She said it would frighten me,” Aelinor wrinkled her nose. “But how should I know what frightens me unless I have seen it?”

Aemond could not claim to have seen the horrors of childbirth, but he could vividly remember that day in Princess Rhaenyra’s chambers all those years ago, when he had seen a silver-haired babe while servants mopped blood off the floors. No, he did not think Aelinor should have to see all that.

“Do you know what I’ve heard?” He decided to distract her.

“What?”

He nodded toward her good hand, which was playing with the sapphire that hung on a gold chain around her neck. “I heard that it is the fashion for ladies to wear matching rings and earrings and all the like. Now, I don’t know much about jewels, but I worry you are falling out of fashion.”

Aelinor gasped. “Aemond!”

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “I shall have no choice but to remedy the situation on your next nameday.”

She shook her head. “Don’t you dare. You already give me too much. Besides, I don’t like jewelry. I just like this.”

Aemond felt his heart warm a little at that. “Alright, Princess. Then let’s go watch our brothers make fools of themselves.”

“Yes, let’s!”

An hour later found Aemond still in the Dragon Put, watching as Jace tried and failed to tame Vermax. The princes’ arrival had brought the news of a new little brother for the Velaryons, and Aelinor had been excused for the day to go and greet the new arrival.

Aemond tried not to mope, but being left in the company of his nephews and brother, all of whom had dragons, was less than ideal. Not when he knew that he would be so much better at this than all of them. Aelinor was the only one other than him who truly understood what it meant to be a dragon rider, but because of her damn brothers, she would never be able to reach her full potential. And he would never get to fly at all.

“We have a gift for you, uncle,” Luc called out to him.

Aemond looked up, disbelief etched on his face. “You? A gift?”

“From all of us,” Aegon wrapped an arm around Jace, who still looked a bit dejected by his pathetic failures. “Found, in a cave off of the Narrow Sea, and brought here especially for you.”

He knew better, or he should have, but he still felt something like hope stirring in his gut. Was this his chance? Was he finally going to have a dragon of his own?

“Behold,” Luc walked backward, and Aemond followed him like a hopeful idiot. “The Pink Dread!”

Aemond’s hopes crashed to the ground when they leapt to the side, revealing a fat pig with wings strapped to its back.

“How could you? You—” the word bastards hung in the back of his throat, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he just returned to his corner to sulk, bitter at the world. Of course Aegon, his own brother, had to join in with them. It wasn’t fair, none of it was.

After her mother had retired to her chambers, Aelinor had set up at the large writing desk in front of the window. The only other source of light in the room was the blazing hearth, which was currently going at full strength to keep her mother and the baby warm. But as it was the very same hearth that had horrifically scarred her hand, she did not like to sit by it unless she had to.

Aelinor did not have the dexterity needed for needlework, or many of the other ladylike pursuits, though she was very fond of dancing, but she had always been an extraordinary patient child. Her grandfather, the King, had in the weeks after her injury taken the time to show her how to paint his figurines with one hand. He carved them himself, very carefully as he too had only one good hand (now he was missing an arm entirely), and so he had set his youngest granddaughter to the task of painting them. His model of Old Valyria grew increasingly colorful with each of her contributions.

Currently she was applying silver paint to a statue of the Valyrian god Vhagar, taking care to apply each stroke of paint in very thin layers.

“Did you see his face?” Her brothers came bursting through the doors, and she quickly moved to secure her painting. It had happened on more than one occasion that their rowdy behaviour ruined one of her projects.

“Be quiet, you two,” she hissed. “Mother and the baby are sleeping.” The baby, Joffrey, had been wholly uninteresting to Aelinor, but her mother was exhausted, and she was determined to preserve that peace.

“You should have stayed, Lina,” Luc came up to her side. Of her two brothers he was the more mischievous, having latched onto Aemond’s nickname for her as a way to poke fun. She loved him, of course, but gods he could be irritating. “Our trick worked perfectly.”

“Trick? What trick?” She wiped her hands on her apron.

“On Aemond,” Luc laughed. “We had a pig, with wings on it! I thought he was going to cry.”

Aelinor saw red. “You did what? Why can’t you both just leave him alone?”

“It was Aegon’s idea,” Jace said quickly, probably just because his sister was upset, not because he genuinely felt sorry for Aemond. “And we didn’t ask him to go down into the pit. That was all him.”

She felt a twinge of worry. “Is he alright?”

“A bit singed, and embarrassed. But alright.” Jace assured her.

Aelinor frowned, turning back to her painting. She hated that their families could not just get along, and she hated that the boys teased Aemond over something she knew hurt him so deeply. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The knowledge of that was the only reason she did not run to Aemond immediately, as she knew he would have done for her. He would be embarrassed, and he did not like for her to witness his humiliation.

Tomorrow she would go to him, and everything would be alright.

Aelinor spent the next morning sitting on the floor of Helaena’s room, listening to her aunt’s description of a centipede that crawled through her hands. Her aunt was harmless, but Aelinor was certainly not a fan of the bugs.

“Running, running through the dark.” Helaena let the centipede twirl around her wrist. “But never fast enough.”

Aelinor was bored. More than that, she was worried. She had not had a chance to speak with Aemond that morning, and now she knew he would be out in the training yard with Aegon and her brothers. She wanted to make sure he was alright, but she couldn’t do that from in here.

“You may go,” Helaena said.

“What?” Aelinor was started to find her aunt staring directly at her.

“I won’t keep you apart. Others will, but not me.”

Aelinor blinked. “Uh, thank you?” Her aunt was very strange.

Helaena didn’t look up as Aelinor stood and brushed out the lavender velvet of her dress. “Blood and bars and iron.” Helaena sang.

Aelinor was a little embarrassed at how quickly she fled the room. She never quite got used to Helaena’s oddness, and her words always left a chill on Aelinor’s skin. Something about it was just…wrong.

When she emerged into the training yard, she stepped into a chaotic scene. Ser Harwin Strong, her mother’s Kingsguard, was being restrained by three other guards, while Ser Criston Cole taunted him. The boys lay scattered through the mud. She went to JAce first, who had blood running from his nose. “What on earth has happened?”

Jace just shook his head. “Things you wouldn’t understand.”

That answer annoyed Aelinor. Why couldn’t she understand? Just because she was younger than him? It wasn’t fair, and she gave him a shove. “You’re so mean, Jace.”

“What’s wrong?” Aemond appeared beside her, having seen her grow angry at her brother.

“Of course you’re here,” Jace scoffed.

“You were….” Aelinor looked between them, confused. “You were all training together. Why do you look like you’ve been fighting?”

“Just go play with your stupid prince, Aelinor. Since you don’t care about your real family.” Jace gave her a dirty look, before grabbing Luc around the arm and pulling him away.

Aelinor was at a loss. “What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything,” Aemond promised. He still didn’t fully understand what had happened here either, between Ser Criston and Ser Harwin, but he knew it had been serious. “Everyone is just angry today.”

“And you!” Aelinor whirled to face him, remembering why she had sought him out. “Are you angry? Because I heard you went into the Dragon Pit by yourself again.”

Aemond floundered for a response. “I…they had a pig and it…”

“You can’t, Aemond! Just because you don’t have a dragon doesn’t mean you can be stupid.”

For the first time in his life, Aemond felt himself growing angry at Aelinor. What did she know of his suffering? She had always had a dragon, and she would never have to fight for her place. Everything was just handed to her, often by him, and yet she thought she could tell him what to do with his own life. It was absurd.

“Just shut up, Aelinor. You’re too little to get it.”

Aemond gaped at him, hurt etched across her face. “Aemond…”

He stormed away, leaving her standing alone in the training yard.

Aelinor liked to think that she was too old to be weeping at every little thing, but the thought of fighting with Aemond, of him being angry with her, was enough to have her sobbing all the way back to her family’s chambers. She hadn’t meant to make him angry, only she was so very worried about him. Why couldn’t he understand how important he was to her?

When she stepped into the parlor, her mother looked up from her seat by the fire. The baby was nowhere to be seen, but several maids were bustling around, packing things in wooden crates.

“Oh, my sweet,” Rhaenyra reached for her, and she went easily into her mother’s embrace. “They’ve already told you?”

“Told me what?” Aelinor’s voice was muffled by her mother’s shoulder.

“That we’re leaving, darling,” Rhaenyra tried to wipe her tears. “On the morrow, we leave for Dragonstone.”

Aelinor gasped. “What? Why?” She had never been to Dragonstone, but it sounded very far away from King’s Landing.

“It is for the best,” is all her mother said. “We’ll be leaving before sun-up so that we have most of the day to settle in.”

“Before sun up?” Aelinor shook her head. “Mother, can I stay here? With Darrax and Aemond and Helaena.” She might think her aunt odd, but she was her closest female friend, and Aelinor found she did not want to be without her.

“No,” Rhaenyra’s voice was harsh. “Darrax will come with us, but it is time that our family was left alone, and I know Aemond and Helaena’s mother will want the same.”

Aelinor didn’t much care what their mothers wanted. All she could think about was that she would be leaving tomorrow, without Aemond. “Can I go and say goodbye?”

“It’s late, darling. “You must sleep, for we have an early day and much preparations to do.”

“But—”

“No arguments, Aelinor. Go to your chambers and help the maids pack your things.”

Had Aelinor been stronger, or had she not been in some kind of shock, she might have argued more. But she was a tired little girl after a very trying day, and so she obeyed her mother. And when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, she let her father bundle her in her cloak and carry her to their ship. It wasn’t until King’s Landing was a speck in the distance that she began to cry, for she hadn’t been able to say goodbye.

Aemond woke early, with a heart filled with regret. The sun was shining through his window, heralding a new day, though he could not find any joy in it. He had been cruel to Aelinor, when she had done nothing to deserve it, and he must make it up to her. Remembering her refusal to accept more jewels, he resolved to collect some fresh flowers from the gardens. She often liked to braid them into her hair (and sometimes his as well), and today he would allow it. If he groveled enough, he could probably retrieve some lemon tarts from the kitchens as well.

His mother was pacing in front of her window when he entered, planning to inform her of his intentions for the day.

“Is something the matter, mother?” He asked, noting the tension in her mouth.

“Oh, everything’s a mess, Aemond,” she sighed, giving him a sad look. “The Princess Rhaenyra and her family are to remove themselves to Dragonstone at once.”

Aemond froze, horror flooding through him. “They can’t!” He couldn’t bear for Aelinor to be all the way on Dragonstone. It was only a short flight by Dragon, but he did not have one, and Aelinor could not fly. “I shall go stop them!”

“It’s too late, sweet boy,” Alicent sighed. “They have already left.”

Aemond shook his head, tearing from the room, but he only needed to reach the base of Maegor’s tower to see that it was true. Tapestries and carpets and trunks were being carried down the steps, to be packed onto the next ship to Dragonstone.

And Aelinor was already gone.

Some Time Later

Daemon Targaryen was her father.

The moment Aelinor first set eyes on him, standing across from her Aunt Laena’s casket, she knew it to be true. She could tell from the set of his mouth, which seemed so similar to her’s, as it had never been to her mother of…Ser Laenor’s. She knew it from the violet of his eyes, which shone with the same brightness as her own, so much more wildly than her mother’s.

And most of all, she knew it from how he stared at her. She could not tell if he was attempting to mask his grief with boredom, but his gaze had been leveled on her since the moment Ser Vaemond began the eulogy.

It wasn’t as though no one was looking their way. Especially as Ser Vaemond took the opportunity of the funeral, and the immunity it provided, to cast thinly-veiled insults at her family. They had all but fled King’s Landing for reasons she still did not understand, so it was not a surprise that they were an object of fascination. But Prince Daemon’s gaze was not one of curiosity. It was….more. She wasn’t quite sure why it unsettled her so.

Aelinor was almost embarrassed to admit that she had ben excited to go to Driftmark. Not to mourn her Aunt, who she had admired deeply despite having never met, but because Aemond, Helaena and her grandfather would be there. She had longed to see them all in the months since they had departed King’s Landing, and she had so much to share.

And now…she needed to speak to Aemond.

But he wouldn’t look at her. There had been no chance to talk upon arrival, and she had not been able to catch his gaze throughout the service. He just stood next to Aegon, who was looking predictably bored, and kept a serious expression on his face.

The first chance she had, she would pull him aside.

Aemond couldn’t look at her.

She was so close, so much closer than she had been in months, just standing on the other side of the casket, and he couldn’t work up the courage to look at her. He could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t deserve it.

Not when she stood there, wearing a dress of black velvet and a matching cloak, her silver hair in a neat plait down her back, and her sapphire pendant hanging at her throat. She was still wearing it. By some miracle, Aelinor was still wearing the sapphire he had given her, even when the last thing he had said to her before she had left had been cruel and harsh.

The past months had been an agony to him. Without Aelinor around, there was little to lessen the overwhelming feeling of being an outsider in his own family. He had thrown himself into his training, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. No matter how many times he let himself get walloped with a practice sword, or the few times where he managed to strike back with any skill, it was never enough to distract him from the fact that at the end of the day, he was alone. And any time he had asked his mother or his grandfather for permission to write to her, he had been turned away. Their reasons changed constantly, from wanting to give the Princess Rhaenyra her space, to more snide comments about keeping their distance.

He knew the real reason, of course. After the Princess’ family had left, rumors had abounded about the parentage of her three children, and his mother had not hesitated to capitalize on them. He did not mind so much when people criticized Jacaerys and Lucerys, not when they so obviously looked like Strongs, but Aelinor was…Aelinor. She might not have been her father’s daughter, but she was still a Targaryen, as much as the rest of them. As much as…him. She wasn’t like the rest of her family, overrun with scandal. She was just Aelinor.

She was just….his.

Aelinor had meant to find Aemond as soon as the funeral service was over, but as soon as she emerged into the courtyard, having left her cloak with one of the maids, her gaze landed on a long figure overlooking the ocean. She saw her mother out of the corner of her eye, met her gaze and saw Rhaenyra shake her head, but ultimately she was helpless to stop herself as her legs carried her toward Prince Daemon.

“Which one are you?” Daemon didn’t turn to look at her.

He was quite tall, with broad shoulders and a serious profile. He was not as pretty as Ser Laenor, but she supposed there was something appealing about the harsh lines in his face. That was not enough to keep the rest of the guests from avoiding him as if he were the plague.

“I am Aelinor,” she declared. “And you are my father.”

He didn’t look startled by her declaration. “You put that together, did you? Perhaps there is some hope for you after all.”

Aelinor didn’t quite know how to take that. Instead, she said, “Your wife died.”

“She did,” his jaw clenched.

“Then if you are sad, I am sorry,” she offered a small smile, even though he was not looking at her. “And I hope I shall come to know you, and your daughters.”

Bobbing a curtsy, and feeling as though she had satisfied whatever insane urge had demanded she speak to him, she moved to leave.

“Aelinor, was it?” She froze.

Daemon spun to look at her, and she was once again struck by the startling resemblance between them. She thought she might have seen the slightest softening in his eyes, and if he saw some of himself in her as well. “Do you have a dragon?”

“I do,” she lifted her chin defiantly. “He is called Darrax, and I can ride him now, but not for long.”

This seemed to satisfy him, for he jerked his head in a nod. Taking that as a dismissal, Aelinor moved around the edge of the party. Her brothers stood with their cousins, Baela and Rhaena. She wanted to go and talk to the girls, offer her condolences and welcome them into the family, but she had been somewhat at odds with her brothers since they moved to Dragonstone. She knew they were mourning Ser Harwin Strong, differently than she was. He had always been a comforting presence for her, closer to an uncle than a guard, but she knew that he represented a lot more to her brothers, and she was not without sympathy. But she could not escape the feeling that it was somehow their fault that she had been forced to leave everything behind. This sentiment was wrong of course, but as she was only nine, it was easiest to point fingers at things she understood.

Her brothers and cousins would have to wait, however, for she spotted the person she had been most anxious to see waiting by the stairs.

The urge to run to him was strong, but she managed to contain herself, nodding politely to her grandfather as she hurried toward him.

“Aemond,” she breathed as soon as she was next to him. “You’re here.”

She was close enough to touch. Aelinro was standing right there, a warm smile on her face, though her happy expression faded with every second he didn’t return her joy.

“Aelinor,” he nodded. “It’s good to see you.”

She deflated. “It’s good to see me? We haven’t seen each other in months. Darrax has grown and I—”

The urge to interrupt her, to spit that he didn’t care about her dragon nearly overcame him. He had been conditioned from the months of fending off his brother’s taunts, of feigning indifference in order to get by.

But this was Lina, and the truth was, he did care. He cared too much.

“Why don’t you hate me?” he asked. “I was cruel to you.”

Aelinor blinked at him for a moment, before an easy smile settled across her face. “No silly. You were mean to me. And you were mean because you were sad. You could never be cruel to me, you’re Aemond.” She said it like it was enough, as if being Aemond was some sort of testament to his character. But she was only nine, and he was twelve and so things seemed much simpler than they were.

“No, Aelinor. I should never have been mean to you, and then you were gone and I—”

“But I’m back now,” she grabbed his hand. “And I don’t want to waste any time, alright?”

There were a thousand other things he wanted to say, most of all that he agreed. He didn’t want to waste any time because who knew when they would next get to see each other. The sun was already setting, and he had wasted most of the day being sullen and bitter.

A dragon roared in the distance, and they both turned their heads.

“Vhagar,” Aelinor said sadly. “She must be lonely.”

The idea struck Aemond like a thunderbolt, and once it was in his mind, he could not forget it. He knew what he must do. It was clear as day in front of him, clearer than anything had ever been in his whole life.

“Lina,” he said quietly, watching as she beamed at his nickname for her. “Can we go for a walk? I need to ask you something.”

“You don’t need to ask,” she giggled, looking behind her. “Come, no one notice that we’ve gone.”

No one looked up as the two children slipped away, their hands intertwined, For Aelinor, it felt almost like hold times, with her and Aemond in a world of their own, She didn’t know where they were going, or have any idea of what might happen next, but she was happy.

But the boy next to her, even as he helped her down the last step and they moved out onto the beach, couldn’t help but be consumed with something between ecstasy and dread. Like it or not, he was about to decide his fate.

And Aelinor would be with him, every step of the way.

Aelinor could tell that something was wrong. Aemond wasn’t speaking, not a single word had escaped his lips since they slipped away from the party, and she was starting to suspect that it was more than his usually sullen self. She longed to tell him about Darrax, about how they had finally figured out a way for her to hold the reins and that she had gone flying for the first time, but he just seemed so…distant.

“Where are we going?” She asked, as they approached the sand dunes. “It’s very late.” Only the light of the moon kept it from being pitch black, and still Aemond moved forward. Her feet slipped in the sand, the silk shoes she had worn for the funeral not suited to climbing through tidal pools and mucky sand.

Aemond stopped suddenly, pausing to listen for something. “Do you hear that?”

A little perturbed that he had ignored her question, Aelinor huffed and tried to listen. At first she couldn’t hear much other than the sound of the wind and the waves crashing in the distance, but soon another sound broke through. It was a low, rhythmic rumble, that she recognized to be the breathing of a very, very large dragon.

“Vhagar?” She gasped. “Aemond, we should go back. This is dangerous.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Which is why I shouldn’t have brought you here.” He pointed toward the cliff face a short distance away, where a dim orange glow could be seen from one of the tunnels. “Go hide over there, I’ll be right back.”

“What are you doing?” She grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave me out here!”

“You’ll be safe, and I’ll be right back.”

He considered lying to her about his motivations. It would be easier to lie, for him to surprise her with his triumphant return, and not have to face her if he failed. But he could not be dishonest with her, especially about this. No one — no one — understood him better than Aelinor.

“I’m going to claim Vhagar,” he told her. “Or I’m going to die trying.”

These were very frightening words for a nine year old, and for Aelinor they were even more terrifying. She had just gotten Aemond back, and she couldn’t imagine ever losing him. But she knew he wanted a dragon more than anything else in the world, and she knew how hard it had been for him.

“Shouldn’t…” she fumbled for an argument. “Shouldn’t Baela have first claim? Vhagar was her mother’s dragon.”

“And she was Visenya’s before that. She belongs to the Targaryens, and we should all have equal claim,” Aemond saw that she wasn’t convinced. “Please, Lina. If I fail then the chance is Baela’s, but I have my chance, perhaps my only chance, right here. Please let me take it.”

Let me. Like he truly wouldn’t do it if she refused him.

“You could get hurt,” she whispered.

Aemond nodded. “Please.”

This was an impossible thing to ask of her. She was only nine years old, and things like life and death still seemed so far away from her. She didn’t want to risk losing Aemond, but she had also never been denied something that she had wanted. He had always made sure that she wanted for nothing. How could she now stand in his way, when he was all but begging her to stand aside.

Aelinor sighed, a shaky breath that was part fear and part exasperation. “You paid attention in our lessons, you have as good a chance as anyone. But please be careful.”

Aemond breathed a sigh of relief.

“I will,” he promised. “Can you just…keep watch? In case the others wake up?” He wasn’t sure what others he was expecting, but he knew it would cause a commotion if he were to claim — or be eaten — by Vhagar.

“They’ll be angry,” Aelinor shook her head. “Aemond, never mind Baela and Rhaena, my brothers will—”

“You’ll just be keeping watch, Lina. and you don’t have to. You can go to bed, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

They both knew that that wasn’t really an option. She would never be able to sleep without knowing if he was alright, and it was unlikely that he would be able to pull this off without someone keeping watch.

“I’ll do it,” she said quietly. “Please, please be careful, Aemond. I can’t lose you.”

He wanted to wrap her in a hug, but he knew that if he did he would probably lose his nerve. “I’ll come back to you Lina, I swear it.”

Knowing that he had never broken a promise to her, she took a deep breath and nodded. “Go. I’ll be by the tunnel when you get back.”

Aemond forced a smile, not letting it slide from his face until she had disappeared into the shadows at the base of the cliff.

And then he started his climb.

Aelinor thought she might faint. She had no idea how much time had passed since Aemond had disappeared over the sand dune, and she was fighting every instinct to run after him and stop him from being so foolish. Her fingernails had cut into her palms from the nerves, and she felt like she was close to tears.

Nestled just outside the mouth of the tunnel, she was sheltered from the worst of the night wind. She was fairly sure that the chill seeping into her skin had nothing to do with the temperature, and everything to do with the terror flooding her veins.

All of a sudden, she heard a great stirring of wind. Peeking out into the moonlight, her mouth dropped open as she watched Vhagar take to the skies, Aemond on her back.

And then she was sobbing.

He had done it! He was really flying!

Clasping both hands to her mouth to keep from crying out, Aelinor jumped up and down. He was doing it! Soon they would be able to fly their dragons together, and everything would be perfect.

She could hear Aemond yelling, hopefully from joy, before Vhagar circled back down.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #fanfic #game of thrones #got

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