#you give your son armor and you hope it is enough. you tell her her drawings are beautiful and you hope it is enough.

[swedisheek]

his ass is NOT mentally stable 🙅‍♂️‼️ (just legitimately teared up and felt awful about qsmp eggs)

[hopelessromantic5]

King Arthur happens to be traveling through Ealdor the exact day the citizens decide they’ve had enough of Merlin.

Labeling him too dangerous, they tied him up on the pyre in the center of town.

As long as Merlin had been alive, he’d never seen this pyre lit.

He would’ve just gotten himself out of this situation with his ‘gifts’ if it weren’t for his poor mother.

The villagers would never let her live in peace if he magically disappeared.

No, this was the only way she could go on living, even with a broken heart.

He didn’t fight. He didn’t really hear much of what they spit at him. But he could hear his mother wailing at him, to save himself, to do whatever he must do.

He’d resigned himself to an early death.

Tom, the town representative, started spewing some righteous words at him. New Religion words that didn’t quite make sense to him, but that’s to be expected. He is, himself, a creature of the old religion, if prophecy is to be trusted.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, serpent?”

Merlin opened his mouth to tell his mother that he loved her, but he stopped short.

In the distance, he could hear a sound.

The beating of hooves on hard, cold dirt.

Visitors were approaching.

It must be fate, he thinks.

As the horses drew closer, the villagers slowly turned their attentions away from him.

Merlin simply hung his head, letting the Earth he loved so dearly decide which way his life would swing.

“What is the meaning of this?”

A calm, steady voice came from behind him. Deep and concerned. Merlin wished he could see the man.

“My lord,” Tom bowed, as well as he could, which was strange.

Upon realization, Merlin’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, were these visitors noble? They never had nobility stay long enough to make comments on anything, only ever just passing through.

“I asked you a question.” The voice said again, with all the authority of someone who’s used to using it.

“This man is a sorcerer, sire. We were just-“

“What has he done?”

“Sire?”

“What has this man done to call for these extreme measures?” When no one answered him immediately, he rephrased.

“Surely there must’ve been a crime committed?” As if it’s a question.

Merlin’s mother pulled herself out of shock and brought herself forth.

“He did nothing, sire.” She spoke firm and unmoving. She must’ve seen hope in this man that Merlin had yet to lay eyes on. “He’s only ever used it for healing wounds and helping our gardens in the winter. Please have mercy on him, my lord. He is my only son.” Tears started falling as her voice broke. She finally met Merlin’s eyes again and he smiled at her, weakly.

“So this man-“

“Sorcerer.” Corrected Tom. What a dick.

“This man, did nothing but heal you and help you survive and this is how you repay him?”

Again no answer.

The man seemed to gesture at Tom, walking towards the town elder, and bringing him finally into Merlin’s line of sight.

The doomed boy nearly gasped.

Silver and red bled together in the sun, armor and finery melded like roses in white sand.

The man-the lord…the knight? He had golden blonde hair, that shone like it’s own light.

Blue eyes made even more obvious and striking surrounded by unblemished, sun-kissed skin.

“You seem to be leading the horde. Tell me why?” No, answer. “Cut him down.” A command. The stranger’s face was a hard, blank line.

Funny how, even then, he didn’t feel like a stranger. But Merlin was in no state to remember it.

“My lord, I do not think that would be wise. Your father was the one to wage war on magic-“

“I am not my father. Cut him down.”

Merlin swallowed. Uther Pendragon was the only person in his mind that waged the war on magic, that began the purge. Which means this man could only be his son, Prince Arthur.

What a prince he was.

Well, King, now.

No wonder every person in the vicinity practically dropped to their knees upon his arrival. They’d all heard stories of ‘The Just King’ that now reigned over Camelot. Giving whatever he could to his citizens that needed it most, never turning anyone away who seeks shelter. Merlin had heard the same as everyone else. Seeing the King in person now, he was in awe.

“I will not endanger the lives of all who live here.” Tom turns back to Merlin with the lit torch.

Merlin held his breath, but the second Tom turned away from him, the King pulled his sword. It made the loveliest sound as it left the sheath.

The sound of salvation.

Tom had the tip of a majestic blade directed right at his throat, as the King spoke again.

“I said, cut him down.”

The look on the King’s face was one that could kill.

Merlin wondered momentarily why he cared so much.

Finally someone from the crowd stepped forward with a knife and began to cut away Merlin’s ties.

Hunith leapt forward and engulfed her son in a hug, while also somewhat holding his body upright.

He did not want to let go, considering he thought he would never get to hug his mother again. But the entire village was watching them.

As was-

“What is your name?”

It was phrased as a question but spoken like a command. Merlin knew it was directed at him without opening his eyes.

He did, reluctantly, release his mother and turn to the golden King, facing deep blue eyes head on. Never cowering.

“Merlin.”

The King must’ve seen something in him. Something every other person was blind to or chose to ignore, simply because he was a peasant. He took a step closer and Merlin could hear the tiny tink of metal pieces on his shining armor, as he did so.

“Well, Merlin.” He said, as if trying it out for himself. “Seeing as I’ve just given you your life, I’d like to ask a favor.”

Merlin’s curiosity was peaked, to say the least. King’s didn’t ask favors, they took whatever they wanted.

King Arthur did not wait for a reply to continue.

��I’m in need of assistance. And I could use someone with a gift like yours, specifically.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes in minuscule doubt. Doubt of intentions, doubt of his safety.

The King somehow knowing his exact thoughts said

“Of course you would be permitted to come back when you are needed. And when I have accomplished my goal, if you wish, you can leave. I will not keep anyone against their will. I am simply offering.” A small smile played on his mouth. Flush pink lips. He also held up his hands as if to say ‘I will not harm you’.

Merlin’s gut told him to follow this man.

Terrifyingly, his intuition told him to follow this man, practically a stranger, anywhere. Everywhere.

Merlin felt a pull he’s never felt before. In the moment, he assumed it was immense gratitude for saving his life.

Merlin turned to meet his mothers eyes, he already knew what she was going to tell him.

“I think it will be good for you. To get out for a while.” She smiles softly.

“Will you be alright?” He whispered, glancing at the crowd still gathered around an unlit pyre.

“I’ll be fine.” She grabbed him in a bear hug, like she always did. “And if they boot me out, I’ll come find you.”

Merlin sighed into her shoulder.

“Alright.”

When Merlin turned back, the King had turned his eyes to the ground, giving mother and son a moment of privacy.

Merlin was starting to warm to him already.

“Can I pack first?”

King Arthur met his gaze then, doing that half smile thing, again.

“I suppose.” He nodded. “But don’t dawdle we need to move if we want to make it back before sundown.”

“Yes, sire.” The title which usually held reverence and respect, was laced with sarcasm. He didn’t seem to think twice, as he strode away towards their hut to gather his things.

If Merlin had looked back, he would’ve found a fully beaming King looking after him and about six knights with faces of complete shock.

And perhaps, one knowing mother.

[dumbkiri]

𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖄𝖔𝖚

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃

"Can we have a twin of Aegon be the rider of Balerion? I know Balerion dies and cannot fly even with Viserys, but I want him to be a supported for the Blacks because...yeah! Also give him a sword of fire like Dondarrion has too! I know incest is weird to write, but Helaena needs someone to appreciate her!! Not a lot of detail, but pop off with this one! "

Not very knowledgeable on HOTD, but I tried!

The doors to the council room pushed open with an eerie creak paired with the sounds of heavy footfalls of a grieving father and husband. Dressed in his black armor with red accents and his sword, Hellfire, strapped to his waist unnerved the council. The presence of [Name] Targaryen hushed his grieving twin brother instantly.  

Aegon quieted down his anger upon witnessing the emotion flowing off of [Name], his lilac glare pointed at the floor in deep thought as he walked up the steps. This emotion [Name] conveyed hadn’t been new to Aegon, it reminded him of the time [Name] demanded their father to give Helaena’s hand to himself. 

Their father, Viserys, laughed in his face…the old man hadn’t laughed in awhile like that and it unnerved the twin boys. But Viserys’ laugh turned into a cough and he cleared his throat out saying, “Your brother is getting married to Lady Jeyne, [Name]. Helaena is all yours and will be soon.” 

[Name] has always wanted Helaena, their odd sister and claimed that, ‘Nobody is willing to understand her, but I am. She should be with me.’ That madness subsided with Viserys’ joyful laugh and reassuring words. This time was different. Their father wasn’t here as king or here to calm him down with hopeful words. No, it was just him. Aegon, the drunken twin…the weak king. 

He watched his twin walk up to the table and stopped at the foot of it. [Name] leaned over it and set his palms on the smooth surface. Clearing his throat and looking straight ahead, at no one in particular this time, he asked every council member, 

“Why were our wives and children unguarded at the dead of night?” 

His calm words  didn’t quite match the fire in his eyes, but the sudden echoed roar of Balerion outside of King’s Landing stirred the council fully awake. Alicent looked around the table and waited for someone to answer her son’s question. She couldn’t put the dangerous eyes of her son on herself...or Cole.

But fear seeped into the very essence of her wretched soul. Helaena walked in on a terrible deed between the queen dowager and the lord commander. Alicent knew that [Name], his gentle words would convince Helaena to tell him every detail of this night. Helaena never held secrets away from her older brother, she always confided with him in everything. 

The rest of the men didn’t speak either and Tyland kept his mouth shut. The outburst he received from Aegon was unmatched to [Name]’s, the rider of The Black Dread. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to speak against the dragon rider that had a god of light guarding him. 

“A little bit ago, I was with your brother, Aemond,” Otto spoke freely, casting a smooth glance over at Criston Cole, “but before that, Cole and your brother were conversing together. I sent Cole away to his watch to have a word with Aemond.”

[Name] dragged his eyes over from his grandfather to Cole and asked, “Did you go back to your post, Lord Commander? Answer this question correctly, I fear that Balerion didn’t have his full for today.” 

Tension was high in the room and Balerion never seized his loud roaring that sounded closer with each minute. Cole shuffled in his spot next to Aegon who looked up at him with suspicion. The rest of the council looked at the Lord Commander wondering why [Name] fixated his lilac eyes so hard on Cole.

“I was abed, my prince.” Cole said without looking [Name] in the eyes. 

“And where were your men? Why weren’t there any guards patrolling the floor my family slept on?” The rising tone, the boiling anger in his throat made his voice raspy. His open palms closed into tight fists as he continued to ask, “Why is it that the moment you send the Watch to sleep, our sons were left at the cruel hands of murderers!” 

His left hand slammed against the table making glasses clink in their place. 

“Your white cloak,” [Name]’s voice knocked down in volume, not seizing up for anyone to speak between his breaths, “is stained with the blood of Jaehaerys and Rhaegar. I will figure out a punishment befitting you once I clear my head.”

Alicent swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to reason with her usual kind son, “[Name], this doesn’t-” 

“You will speak once spoken to, mother,” His eyes slowly moved over to her fear stricken ones and she knew why she was getting his hostility. His biting words covering her in flames eating away at her guilt, “Helaena told me what happened tonight. Everything I need to know. For being such a godly woman and criticizing every move the Blacks make, I’m disappointed in the actions you took tonight.”

He straightened out his back and addressed everyone at the table, “Tonight will teach everyone here a lesson.

“The Night’s Watch will stay at their post, guarding the royal family to their very last breath. They will have patrol times and stick to it. If their Lord Commander comes up to them with a release, the Night’s Watch will turn into stone and keep their post. Their job is to guard the royal family, protect the castle. I will not have another incident like this one. I will not have my wife witness such a heinous act of child murder. 

“As for the rest of us, before we return to bed, we make sure there is a knight in or around our presence. I want you to fall asleep to the sounds of clinking armor knowing that there is a knight outside your door or on your floor patrolling. I want us to sleep peacefully and…”

“Rhaegar…he was faster than I was,” Helaena’s tears slid down her cheeks, “he was braver than I was. I didn’t see this, I-I couldn’t stop him. Our little boy ran in to save Jaehaerys and he wasn’t scared. He held the dagger you gave him on his nameday and scarred one of them. Then while he was choking at that man’s hands, he said his last words, “My father will burn you in the blackest hells, ratcatcher. He will.””

[Name] paused hearing Helaena’s voice in his head, he couldn't cry right now. Rhaegar was only seven years old and the boy fought back to save his family. His little boy had run in to save his family's lives because no one else was there, not even himself. 

“-and not worry about ratcatchers.” 

His stance faltered and he fell back into the chair at his side. His gloved hand wiped at his face to shake away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Helaena kept speaking to him, her words haunting him, 

“Jeyne grabbed her remaining daughter out of her bed and Daenerys held tightly onto my dress while I snuck Viserys out of his crib. The two of us ran away from that horrible sound with our children, leaving poor Jaehaerys and Rhaegar behind. Jeyne kept crying as we ran for our lives, kept asking where the knights were. Where were they?” 

“I don’t know,” [Name] felt like she was asking him, ‘where were you?’ and he wanted to say out flying Balerion in the night. But she knew he flew Balerion out in the night because he had the need to patrol around that time. And no one would see him or Balerion when the beast itself blends in the darkest sky. 

“Helaena, is there anything else you would like to tell me?” He asked before he would storm into the council room and demand for answers. 

His wife looked over at Daenerys cuddled up in her father’s arms with tear tracks stained on her young face. Helaena didn’t know if she could tell him about their mother’s…activity with the Lord Commander. But she didn’t need to because Daenerys mumbled something in his chest. 

[Name] stirred and moved his daughter to look her in the eyes, “Say that again, Dany. I didn’t quite catch that.” 

Daenerys looked into his eyes and said, “Grandmother…she was with the Lord Commander.” 

Helaena watched the confusion morph her husband’s face and he nodded his head, “Well yes, Ser Criston Cole is in charge of watching over your grandmother.”

Daenerys shook her head and clarified as best as a child could do, “He wasn’t guarding her, father. He was in her bed.” [Name]’s blood ran cold. The reason why Jaehaerys and Rhaegar died was because Cole didn’t want the Night’s Watch to-

“Helaena is this true?” He looked over at his sister-wife and she nodded her head with her eyes on the floor. His heart dropped to his stomach at this revelation. His skin crawled with the act of deceit. His mother called the Lord Commander to her chambers, thus allowing the release of the Night’s Watch on the royal family. 

“Rhaegar looked like you, father, fighting back that man” Daenerys sniffled and wiped her eyes with her small hands, “he wounded the ratcatcher. His eye is scarred, sort of like uncle Aemond. I think…I think Rhaegar knew his end, but he wounded his attacker so you could find him.”

“Of course he did,” [Name] whispered and hugged his daughter to his chest, pressing her face into the crook of his neck where she cried some more. Of course Rhaegar did that, he never went down without a fight. He was taught to protect his family, to harm those that pose a threat to them. But [Name] never taught his first born to think for himself. Think about a life Rhaegar could live for. Instead his son sacrificed himself to buy time for Helaena and Jeyne. 

“I’m sorry, my girls,” [Name] choked out, his tears finally cascading down his face, “I wasn’t there for you. I could have stopped it, I could have saved you from those bastards. Dany, your brother could have still been alive if I had-”

Daenerys moved her head and tilted her chin up, her gaze piercing his soul, “I know it’s not your fault, father. You were flying out with Balerion like you always do every night. Rhaegar knew what he had to do, I don’t blame you for his bravery.” 

Bravery. Not death. Daenerys saw her older brother as a brave child that passed away with honor. Not as a little boy with a dagger, weak to a full grown man. He looked over at his wife and she nodded her head in approval. Helaena could never blame [Name], she knew if he were present, he would have slaughtered the ratcatchers. 

“Helaena, Daenerys,” [Name] looked at his daughter then back to his wife. With gritted teeth, he said, “Cole will face consequences for releasing the Night’s Watch and I will find the ratcatcher that killed Rhaegar. This I promise to you.” 

“What about…mother?” Helaena cautiously asked her husband. She saw the turmoil in his eyes and he handed Daenerys over to her arms. Then he stood up and brought his sad gaze over to Viserys sleeping in his crib.  

“Mother will feel guilty all her life for this moment,” [Name] began walking away and said, “I hope it drives her mad.” 

“Brother, tell them that this idea is madness! We cannot allow our sons to be dragged across this city for show!” Aegon’s voice filled with hurt brought [Name] out of his misery and he looked at the table.

“What idea?” He sat up in his chair and Otto looked over at [Name] carefully wording his sentence out. 

“We will honor Prince Jaehaerys and Rhaegar by showing the cruelty of Rhaenyra’s actions to the people. This will-” 

[Name] shook his head and looked at Otto, asking, “Wait, Rhaenyra did this? She was the one that ordered our sons to die?” 

Alicent looked down at the table and folded her hands together, “We don’t know for sure, but-” 

“That’s a serious accusation that will not be taken lightly. Did she or did she not order that Prince Jaehaerys should die?” [Name] demanded, his hand itching to spill some blood. His anger was getting the best of him, eating away at his best traits. 

Everyone remained quiet at the table until Aegon shot up from his seat, raging with fury. [Name] didn’t notice that Cole had left the room. “Of course she fucking did! She’s a cunning little bitch! I want her to answer for the crimes she committed against us!” 

[Name] couldn't believe it. Rhaenyra would never cause the same pain she felt when she lost Lucerys to Aemond on Helaena. But he wanted answers, “I will fly to Dragonstone tomorrow morning and demand for answers.” He stood up from his seat and stopped short in his path. “I’m not going to start a war, not yet. I will confront my sister and ask her about this crime.” 

“She’ll lie to your face!” Aegon shouted, spit flying viciously out of his mouth. 

[Name] looked over his shoulder and scrutinized him, “People cannot lie easily with Balerion in sight. You pissed your pants when he didn’t choose you, so imagine what others will do.”

He walked a bit more and one of the guards opened the door for him. Then he set his hand on the door, he kept his eyes forward and addressed his grandfather, “A Hightower shouldn’t speak on Targaryen traditions. My son is going to be honored only by his family and burned by Balerion. His bravery isn’t a spectacle for King’s Landing and I won’t have strangers mourning him. His body has been defiled enough along with Jaehaerys. I don’t see why we have to show them our pain, sympathizing with us isn’t enough reason for them to peek into our lives. Anyone who touches Rhaegar’s body…will die.”

……

After his talk with the council, [Name] found himself in his bed with his two girls and baby boy. Viserys had been busy climbing on Helaena with cute babbles while Dany cuddled up against [Name]’s bare chest. “I am going to Dragonstone to ask our sister if she had anything to do with this. I’m leaving early in the morning, I would like everyone to join me.” 

“You’re going to visit Aunt Rhaenyra, father?” Daenerys sat up with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “That means we can fly on Balerion together.” [Name] nodded his head and brushed her long hair behind her ears. 

“But what if she thinks it's a sign of war?” Helaena asked.

[Name] cleared his throat and said, “They’re scared of Vhagar as it is, I don’t think they want to fight Balerion as well. I can win that fight easily against her motherly dragon. Rhaenys would be my worry for Balerion. But that’s beside the point, I’m there looking for answers, not a fight.”

Helaena looked down at Viserys and the two year old smiled at her. “I’m afraid to fly with him.”

[Name] sat up and cleared his throat, “I can have Viserys’ strapped to my back while-”

“I meant Rhaegar,” Helaena murmured and looked away from her family. Meanwhile [Name] sighed and knew his plan for having Rhaegar honored by the Blacks instead of the Greens was going to have a bad effect on his wife. But he couldn’t do it. Jaehaerys would be shown around to the people, but not Rhaegar. Not his boy.

“I can fly with all three of them, Helaena. Balerion is big enough to carry all of us and it’ll be no big deal for him.” [Name] reasoned, hoping his wife would look at him. 

“I can ride with Mother,” Dany offered with a sweet smile, “if she wants me too.” 

Helaena looked back at her daughter and returned the smile, “Yes, of course little one. Are we also taking their dragons with us?” She looked at [Name] for clarification. She knew what his big plan was and this would cement the fact. 

“Yes, that is the idea of it,” He whispered back, afraid she would reject it. Moving out of King’s Landing to Dragonstone is a risk he was willing to take to keep his family alive. He wished he only did it sooner. 

“Okay, I trust you.” She leaned forward and pressed a shy kiss on his cheek. This action had Daenerys giggle with a blush on her face. [Name] bristled at the action himself and awed at the expression on his daughter’s face. Though they experienced a terrible night, his girls were able to show a bit of comfort and happiness. 

He held back his tears and longed for Rhaegar to return. Longed for his family to be complete again. Helaena saw the tears in his eyes nonetheless and she placed her hand onto his face, “We should rest, we have an early journey ahead of us.” She released his face and picked up Viserys, putting the babe into his own bed with his young dragon laying at the top left corner.

While she settled the boy, [Name] slid out of bed and pulled out the logs from the fireplace leaving it only a kindle now. The room darkened exponentially and he made his way back to the bed at the same time Helaena did. Dany pushed her father over to the middle so she could share him with her mother. With Helaena on his right, she cuddled up against his chest, her head laying on his shoulder. Daenerys on his left hugged his arm tightly and the little girl went fast asleep with light snores. 

The fire crackled a few times before dying out completely, letting the full moon being the only source of light in the room. [Name] stayed awake thinking about tonight. He thought about looking for the ratcatcher when his girls fell asleep. He already had Rhaegar wrapped and prepared for the flight to Dragonstone. Perhaps he wanted to torture his mother a little bit longer before he left too. 

His eyes felt heavy with sleep, shouldn’t be long until his eyes shut for the night. Then he heard a few clicking noises of baby dragons. He lied still and saw two silhouettes climbing up his legs. Then the two baby dragons made their way to Dany, they made small noises until they settled right next to her body. One curled up next to her stomach and the other laid on his arm where Dany held on tightly. 

“My love,” [Name] whispered and turned his head slowly at Helaena. His wife stirred then blinked her eyes a couple of times. “You have to look at Dany, Helaena.” He whispered again, hoping not to scare the two hatchlings near his daughter. 

Helaena noticed his stiff body and she cautiously moved herself upward, peering down at the scene her husband was fawning over. “Moonlight and Nightmare…Rhaegar’s dragon is sleeping with her too?” 

[Name] shook his head with a teary grin, “Even in death, our boy is watching over his twin. I don’t know what to say right now besides that. I…There’s so many words I want to say, Helaena. I know you said it’s not my fault, but if I just stayed-”

Helaena put her hand on his chest then moved it upward to wipe the tears from his eyes. “It’s not your fault, [Name]. Please stop blaming yourself. You are a great father, you raised a strong boy who protected his family. You raised a strong girl who speaks with praise, not blame. And I know how Viserys is going to grow up too.”

“You…you had a dream again?” [Name] asked and relished her warm touch. 

“I’m a dreamer of you, my love,” She smiled with glee, “and yes, it was beautiful. Our family finds peace in the North, not sure how, but we do. And our family never stops growing. Dreamfyre and Balerion grow accustomed to the cold and have clutches to support our growing family. All is well with the Targaryens that move up North, my light in the darkness. Now please, let us rest, we need not worry about our future anymore.” 

She pressed a light kiss on his lips and his head fell back onto the pillow. He closed his eyes and followed her order. Yes, she had a vision and she loved every second of it. She couldn’t wait to move up North. To have her husband create a grand alliance with Cregan Stark, the Wolf and the Dragon. This alliance will bring an end to this war between the Greens and the Blacks. 

After the war ends, she would be surrounded by five children and even more grandchildren. And the amount of dragons flying in the North would scare any Southerner that threatens the North. 

Yes, this vision was beautiful. After all, any vision involving [Name] always has been.

[prophecyofwinter]

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | VI

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Angst, Slowburn (Hot&Cold), TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, Reader is Self-serving, Terrible Sibling Dynamics, Fluff tags to be added

Special warnings | Violence against women, Incel-like behavior, descriptions of injuries

Word Count: 3.6k

Author Notes | I have put up a poll to get readers feel for a certain story direction, please give it a quick vote! Poll here

Prologue | Chapter V | | Chapter VII Masterlist

Chapter VI | Love Thy Sister

“What do you think of her?” Alicent asks her son, looking up at him from her cushioned seat. Alicent hoped by telling Aemond to take the girl for a walk she’d feel welcome enough for the time being. Even though she is legitimized as a Targaryen, she can leave at any time. If she does not feel welcome, she may take herself and her titles back to Volantis. Back to the whore house her mother is from and disgrace the Targaryen name just as her mother did, and the blame would be put on Alicent.

“I suppose she is a good conversationalist… as beautiful as they say her mother is.” Aemond looks down at her, he rubs his hand along his jaw. Aemond knows his duty that was forced upon him, Alicent does not doubt this. 

However, she has influenced him to have a greater distaste for bastards. Of course, she doesn���t expect nor want Aemond to put his biases to the side, but for the safety of the Targaryen name he must learn to push it down for her.

“Continue to keep her happy, if you wander-“ 

“I am not Aegon if that’s what you are implying.” Aemond interrupts her with one of his quips. Alicent rubs her temples with a sigh, in her mind she knows Aemond would never do such a thing, but you can never be fully sure with young men. Aemond places his hand on Alicents shoulder, bringing her out of thought and she looks back up at her son.

“She knows what she is and I can deal with that.”

—————

The sun has sunk below the horizon and you stand with your hands gripping the stone of your balcony. The light breeze pushes your loose hair to the side, tickling your cheeks. 

The past 5 days have been repeating each other, waking up, fitting into tight clothes that you still can’t get used to, breaking your fast alone, taking brisk walks through the gardens; you’ve taken to needlework to fill up your time, still not good at it. Ending your days eating dinner with Vaegon, he insists on sitting next to you instead of on the other side of the table, you’ve gotten tired of telling him otherwise. 

Your only real interactions have been with Aegon, he manages to find you in the gardens every day. It has become routine at this point. Small conversations where he stands a little too close and rests his hand on your lower back. Your brother was fuming behind the two of you, but alas there was nothing he could do. 

Perhaps Aegon simply got a kick out of your brother's reaction; in that case, you don’t mind at all. 

Aemond hadn't bothered to even acknowledge your existence. You haven't seen him, heard him, smelled him, tasted him, touched him. All your senses are absent of him! 

Your head had been so full of ideal situations, that you didn’t consider living an isolated life in a foreign land! You had to push down girlish thoughts and take charge for yourself!

“Are you done with your childish games sister?” 

You were knocked out of your thoughts by Vaegon resting his armor-covered hands on the back of your shoulders. You tensed up at the contact, your stomach instantly became uneasy. 

“Your fantasies didn’t work out. No prince to whisk you off your feet as we pretended when we were children. Only a maimed icy boy who doesn’t love you.” He begins to gently massage your shoulders. Disgust rises on your face with your fists so tight your nails may draw blood.

“And you do?” You do not turn to look at him, simply at the night sky.

“More than that freak could.” He laughs resting his chin on your shoulders and moves his hands to caress your arms. This pushed you far over the line. You turned around and pushed him back with full force, it didn’t do much but push him a foot back. Frustrated at this failed attempt you slap him making sure to claw his skin with your nails. 

You hadn’t meant to dig that deep. Vaegons scream was in true carnal pain, he held his cheek with blood flowing from between his fingers. You had scarred him from cheekbone to chin. You looked down to your hand and you could see the skin you tore off beneath your nails. You looked back at him in shock, your mouth went dry as you couldn’t think of any words to say. 

“You fucking cunt!”

You saw your brother's eyes turn from purple to black as he ran to grip your neck with both hands, knocking the wind out of you. He was crushing your throat and his hand armor was cutting deeply. 

“Va-vaegon plea-“ you begin to claw at his hands as you choke out words. 

“I will not come second to some pompous cunt! I have worked all my life to prove myself worthy of you! Yet you whore yourself out to the first cock that fills your self serving cunt.” He shook you around with gritted teeth, not seeming to care about the sting and blood from his cheek. “You stand there and mock me in the gardens and let that whore of a Prince touch you, am I the only one you won’t fuck?!”

Black spots started to form in your vision, he was trying to strangle you to death, and you could see it in his eyes. 

You whisper something weakly enough that he cannot make out. He leans in hopes of hearing words of submission to feed his sick fantasies.

You gargle up the saliva that you cannot swallow and spit directly into his ear. He instantly jumps back and pushes you away. He falls on his ass getting away from you. You erupt in laughter even when your spine makes contact with the stone balcony you laugh through the pain.

Vaegon is at a loss for words, tears start to form and threaten to fall down his face. Humiliation is all over his face, you have permanently scarred his face. Maimed him as he laughed at Aemond for being. This scar was not gained honorably, not in a battle, not because he was punished, not from protecting a damsel in distress. He gained nothing from it.

He let a woman, his sister, swipe him so brutally. It made him even less of a man in the eyes of everyone. 

No mother to comfort him, not even a whore to console him, the only person he had was his sister who was looking down on him.

Laughing at him. 

Your laughter died down, small giggles escaping your lips still. The lack of air to your head and raw adrenaline diluted the pain you should be feeling at the moment. You walked over to your brother, looking down at him as he looked down at you moments ago with his hands on your throat.

“I am greater than you now brother, you are still a bastard. I could have you hung and spiked on the walls. However, it breaks my heart to see you like this.” You say softly with a joking tone. Vaegon continues looking up at you with a rage behind his eyes.

“If it would serve as compensation. You can have the privilege of standing guard at mine and Prince Aemonds marital chambers on our wedding night. As a parting gift.” 

Vaegon instantly stands on his feet and scoffs with a baffled expression. Suddenly, the weight of his crimes against a noble hit him hard, and he rushed out of the room to escape to who knows where.

You stood there for a few moments, absorbing your grand victory. You didn’t care where he ran, who he ran to, what he was going to do after running. Your breath was heavy and your lungs began to feel like they were struggling to take air in.

Just as your adrenaline calmed down it rose back up with anxiety. You rushed over to your mirror and looked at your neck to see bruises already forming and where his armor had cut your neck. How could you explain this? Someone will see your bruises and see Vaegons cheek and put it together. 

You hadn’t noticed the tears running down your face until you looked in the mirror, you looked in disarray. 

The pain started to shock through your body, finally registering the violence Vaegon put onto you.

Your throat felt like it was closing up, the pressure from your corset made the rising bruise on your lower back hurt so badly you feared you might empty your stomach on the floor. 

You saw the blood trail on the floor and your eyes moved over to the balcony and there was a small pool of blood in plain sight. You looked around your chambers for anything to clean it up. You froze by the sound of knocking at your door followed by your door opening. 

You hear the sound of crashing and liquid splashing on the floor. Someone rushed to your side who you recognized to be Mela. She knelt by your sitting form and held your arms gently. 

“Princess! What happened?! Who hurt you?!” Mela attempted to talk calmly but the urgency of the moment raised her tone. 

You don’t know what happened, all of a sudden everything came crashing down onto you. You were crying so hard you couldn’t form any words, your throat and neck hurt even worse with all your heavy breathing. Stuttering out incoherent and unfinished sentences with hand gestures that meant nothing. 

Mela stood and held you close to your chest like a mother would, and you held onto her arms and cried. She yelled something at Ellyn and the girl rushed out of the room, the door left wide open potentially for anyone to see. The pain of being manhandled by Vaegon started seeping in and all of a sudden your whole body started hurting, you couldn’t tell where it was coming from; you only knew it hurt. 

“Shhhh, Let me see Princess.”

Mela lifted your chin and gasped at the state of your neck. She lightly touched one of the fresh bruises, even the lightest touch made you whimper and flinch away. You couldn’t breathe without pain shocking through your body which made you cry more so tears never stopped streaming down your face. 

A barrage of footsteps approaches the open door to see Mela holding your sobbing body. Immediately a maester is by your side, gently pushing Mela away to see your injuries. You close your eyes to think the pain away, and a few gasps follow when your neck becomes exposed. 

“Gods be good, who did this Princess?” The Maester touched around your neck to examine the damage. You couldn’t think, the feeling of eyes on you, the pain in your neck, the pain in your lower back tightened by a corset.

You claw at the back of your dress just wanting to tear it off. Mela stops your hands to pull you onto your feet, your groans of pain don’t stop her at all. Ellyn moves behind you to loosen the layers of your dress. You let out a deep sigh of relief when your corset is removed and your body almost fully collapses into Mela.

Your lower back is revealed with the removal of the corset and you hear gasps of sympathy from the other maids in the room. Mela has you against her in a way that your breasts aren’t revealed to keep some form of modesty, even if it’s just maids and a maester.

“Gods… what has happened here?!” Alicents voice sounded through the room, her voice painted with concern. 

“I’m not sure my Queen, she’s in too much pain. She won't speak.” The Maester said without turning to Alicent still looking around at the newly discovered bruise. The Maester leaves the room to hopefully get some kind of ointment or cream to soothe you.

You looked up at Alicent and she looked down at you, biting at the skin of her thumb. 

The small part of you that isn’t in pain feels humiliated, this was your triumphant moment over your brother. But here you are, crying so hard you can’t speak, naked from the waist up, multiple people gawking at your injured limp body. You can barely even listen to the people around you, blood is pumping through your ears. 

A nightgown comes over your head and you move your arms slowly to fill the armholes. By the feeling of the fabric you can tell it’s not one from Westeros, it’s one of your own from Volantis. With these, your back could remain open instead of being rubbed with cloth. You watch Alicent move her hand to caress your hair gently, looking at you with an expression you can’t make out. Sympathy? Pity?

Alicent leans down and murmurs something to you.

“Was this Aemond?”

You shake your head no and the queen lets out a sigh of relief and does one wipe of your cheek with her thumb. You made an earnest attempt to squeeze out any sound through your tightening throat.

“Vaegon-“ you pointed to the blood near the balcony, the hand you pointed with still had his blood and skin on your fingers. 

“Where is her brother? Find him!” Alicents voice rises to yell at the guards nearby. She leaves the room with haste to go off to who knows where. 

You are guided onto a couch deeper into your chambers to allow room for a maid with water and cloth to gently dab your neck. You try your best to contain your whimpers to not humiliate yourself further. Another maid grabs your hand with a wet cloth and cleans the hand you scarred Vaegon with.

After some time the Maester reentered the room with a jar of some kind of ointment. You hope the cream provides some instant comfort, anything to relieve your aches. Tears still streaked down your face, the pain still ever persistent, but you held your whimpers down still.

“Alright Princess, I’ve retrieved an ointment made of arnica. It should help with the aches and inflammation.” The Maester hands the ointment to Ellyn, she quickly replaces the maid behind you. You move your hair away to expose your neck.

Everyone besides Ellyn begins to make their leave to give you privacy now that their duty is done. You close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief when Ellyn starts to gently rub the bruised area on the back of your neck. However your eyes don’t stay closed for long; as the door opens for everyone to make their leave, a soft ‘My Prince’ in unison makes your eyes instantly open. 

Aemond enters the room with long strides, passing by servants without care. He was wearing his normal black leather, eyepatch, and sword still at his side. Ellyn stopped applying the ointment to stand up, and give a small bow to Aemond with a customary ‘my Prince’. 

“Mm. Give it here.” Aemond holds out his hand to be given the ointment. He scans the room to see the blood has not yet been cleaned up.

“Clean that up and make your leave.” He hums, Ellyn quickly hands him the jar and grabs a cloth. 

“Aemond...” You whisper to not force your voice. You jump at the feeling of Aemonds ungloved fingers applying ointment to the back of your neck. Aemonds touch struggles to be gentle, his hands are roughly textured, and you can tell he hasn’t had to be gentle with much before. 

“I caught him.” He said in a normal tone. You look to the side, your eye area red and cheeks still wet from your never-ending crying. A look of confusion grazed your face under your pained expression. 

“I walk in the gardens at night. I heard him yelling, I saw him push you. I figured he would run.”  Aemonds fingers moved to the side of your neck that was exposed to him.

“Do not take it as much. A bastard boy attacked a…Targaryen. A high crime, it was simply duty.” He talks like he doesn’t care, truly unreadable... Almost like the hardened guards that are on duty in front of the black wall in Volantis, but not quite that extreme.

But here he sits, doing his best to gently rub in ointment into the bruised necklace painted into your skin. You can’t help but give him a slight smile, Aemonds eye flickers up and moves right back down. 

Without being able to speak more than a word or two, you and Aemond sit in silence. Even when he turns you around to get the front of your throat.

You got the opportunity to look at his face closer than you ever had. Your eyes traced his red scar, your sight stopped by his eyepatch but it continued below; on down to his sharp strong nose which huffed out deep breaths occasionally; to his pink lips, straightened in focus. Of course, his most important features to you, his one good eye, a beautiful shade of purple, pointed down looking at your neck and ever so often flicked further down when he needed to get more from the jar. His platinum white hair was tucked behind his ears so he didn’t get any in his face while leaning down.

This wouldn’t last. You knew that. Soon he would remember reality and pull back once again.

“Turn back around, I have to get your back.”

Your view of Aemond is torn away by his hands twirling you back around. He makes a ‘mmm’ sound and rubs the excess on his fingers on the middle of your open back. Leaving you rather confused until he speaks.

“Your lower back is covered by your nightgown. I have to pull it down.”

You jump a little at the idea of being almost fully naked in front of him, even though the sheer fabric of your nightgown left nothing to the imagination and left most of your skin open to the air. It’s the implication of it all.

“Gods, Calm down. I will only be seeing your back, nothing I won’t see soon enough.”

Aemond pulls at the sleeves of your nightgown and slides it down as low as it can go as you are sitting down. Even though he is behind you and can’t see your breasts you feel the need to cover them with your arms, but you resist. 

Aemond starts to apply ointment once again, he presses a little too hard and a gasp gets caught in your throat, and flinch away. Aemond grasps your hips to still you and bring you back.

“I’m sorry. Let me try again.”

You nod and hope that he’s more gentle this time. This bruise was a single large long bruise straight across your lower back so it made it harder to comfortably touch it at all. He was as gentle as he could be, it would hurt regardless. 

You had to make it through the pain yourself. Focusing on making the pain go away in your head. The first thought that came to your head was how intimate this position felt compared to the others. The lower back felt like one of the more intimate locations to touch between two people. Yes, Aegon touches you there occasionally but you only allowed that because you knew Vaegon was looking. 

Aemond doing it felt different. Even if it was just him helping you. His touch brought pain with it but it still somehow got a shiver up your spine that was pleasant in its own way.

He applied the ointment rather quickly, you snapped out of your thoughts when he began to bring your nightgown back up your body and you slipped your arms through the strapped sleeves.

“You should sleep soon, you will heal faster,” Aemond spoke, rubbing your arms from the back. You froze when you felt his breath on the back of where your neck met your shoulder. Your heart starts beating fast as you can almost feel his lips disrupt the peach fuzz on your skin. 

Suddenly seconds later Aemond abruptly pulls away physically and emotionally, just as he did before. He stands and briskly walks to your chamber door, on his way he taps onto a table to put your attention to a goblet and pitcher. 

“Should aid with sleep.” 

You didn’t even get a chance to process anything. You swore you still felt his touch on your skin, it made you shiver. Aemond shut the door all but gently, leaving you alone with yourself. You sighed at the loss of touch and Aemond ran off once again.

You wouldn’t see Aemond for a few days once again.

You pushed yourself up onto your feet with a sharp pain. The ointment helped but it didn’t help with sudden movements. You hobbled over to the table Aemond gestured to. You studied it briefly before pouring the substance into the goblet. It was a cloudy blue color, you weren’t sure what to make of it. You reluctantly took a sip, your body wanted to reject it instantly. It tasted extremely bitter with an undertone of honey. It must’ve been put there for a reason so you at least finish the cup. 

Not being able to drink anymore you blow out the bigger lights in your chambers, leaving the smaller ones still lit. You started to feel drowsy, deciding to commit to lying down. Getting under the covers trying to get comfortable, you decided it was too hot under them and pushed them to the side to only cover part of your body. You found a single position that didn’t put extreme pressure on your bruises and instantly fell to sleep.

—————

🏷️: @toodlesxcuddles @yourwonkywriter @blackgirlmagicforever @knyam

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[sanyu-thewitch05]

I need more messed up female reader inserts. More ambitious, manipulative, unapologetically cut throat characters. So for this next idea I have a Male Yandere General X Female Reader Noblewoman.

General premise…reader Darling is a noblewoman whose family took in a slave mother and son during young childhood because they looked more unique compared to other slaves on the market. (I have no idea what type of era this is set in, but maybe this is more fantasy based?) Darling is a prodigy and sees the slave son (whose the yandere) natural gifts at combat/weaponry, so convinces her father to make the boy into a soldier for their family to use to win favor of the royal family. Darling manipulates the boy for years, knowing full well his romantic feelings for her. She promises to marry him  and give him his freedom, as long as he keeps climbing the military ranks, winning battles/wars, and contributing to their noble family name. Darling knows that doing this will ensure an easy bargaining chip with the royal family and the general people that her family deserves to be “rewarded” for their contributions to the kingdom. In other words, Darling wants to be future Queen, always has, and she’s seen poor yandere as nothing but a pawn. After yandere comes back from latest brutal war, he hears the news of Darling’s engagement to the crown Prince. Heartbroken and betrayed, he snaps and launches a coup (which is quite easy because the kingdom loves yandere more than the royal family), granting Darling’s wish of becoming future Queen…just not the way she imagined…And Darling will always be the apple of his eye, but maybe she should “earn” and “fight” her way up to Queen from slave, just as he had to fight from hell and back all his life from slave to king. Couple goals, am I right?

A/N: Finally finished this ask! I hope you like the twist and many hints within this. BTW, this is more tame and doesn't have smut. It does have a happy ending though. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this!

TW: Mentions of drugging

You were always meant for greater things. Luckily, you have a plan as to how to get it. First, you must work your way up the nobility ladder until you reach the prince. Then, seduce the prince and bear him children to secure your throne. But that takes time, and time is limited when you're a human. So you took a shortcut and used the latest Elve slaves to help you. The son, Rhys, around your age (14), possesses great potential, not only in magic but in swordsmanship. So, you convinced your father to put him in knight school. Behind the scenes, you make false promises of freedom and marriage to him.

The one condition he has to follow is to keep climbing the military ranks and contributing to the family name. He believed it like a fool, and soon enough, he became your personal knight. A knight in shining armor or a white knight in a way. Rhys was always around you. Which led to him witnessing your most vulnerable moments.

"Milady, wake up. My lady!" Rhys whispers, secretly using his magic to float up to your levitating body.

"Hm?" You moan, waking up and realizing your body is floating several inches into the air.

"You were doing it again."

"Sorry, Rhy."

You think of a feather slowly falling, and you're on the mattress again. Rhys climbs onto the bed and sits next to you. He lets you climb into the safety of his arms for sleep.

"Please don't tell anyone, Rhys," You say, resting your head on Rhys's chest.

"I won't, milady," Rhys says, rubbing your head until you go to sleep.

The next morning, your mother took you to a cottage in the wilderness near the Elves's kingdom for your 16th birthday.

Then, one brutally hot summer day in your delicate 21st year of age, war broke out with the Elf kingdom. King Faenelis of the Elves used magic to fight the war. This created a problem for your kingdom, and so Rhys, other elves, or mages were sent to war. Admittedly, you missed his presence around the manor. You missed him teaching you things about his culture. You missed the gifts from the forest he would give you. But, good news came, and your dream came true. The prince of your kingdom, Prince Calion Veranda, proposed to you at a ball you attended after a night of drinking, dancing, and mock swordfights.

You immediately moved out of the manor and began your life at the castle. You were so happy with the prince that you forgot about the war until it arrived at your doorstep.

"Kill the prince, but spare the girl!" A familiar voice screams, the sound of footsteps coming towards you.

"Go into the tunnels and keep running. I'll find you!" Calion whispers, pushing you away.

You run into the tunnels, and your brain rings from the sound of water dropping and hearing your own footsteps. The tunnels seem never-ending. Suddenly, as if you're losing your mind, whispers start to echo through the stone walls.

"My love, come back."

"I'm here for you."

"I can hear you."

"I feel you."

"I know you."

"Did you really think you could run away?"

"Ooh! Would you shut up?!" You scream, making everything go silent.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Dri-

"Found you!" Rhys says, his milk-white hand pulling into the walls.

You open your eyes and see a more rugged Rhys standing in front of you. His muscles are bulging through the silk white, and green royal clothing.

"Hi, my queen," Rhys says, grabbing you by the chin.

"Rhys, what are you doing? You're going to ruin our family name," You ask, looking him in the eyes.

Those silver eyes mock you.

"I came back and launched a coup with the support of the people. Don't worry, your family is safe. But this kingdom is going to be ruled by me and renamed into Faeranda. It's all your fault. You know, I heard about your engagement and came for you," Rhys monologues, pointing his sword at the crystal wild violet necklace around your neck. "You still wear this necklace? I thought your parents-no! Your father told you not to wear that. What did they say, "Don't wear anything that woman gives you." 'sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

"Don't bring grandma into this!" You yell, pushing his sword away from your neck.

"A crystal wild violet for a girl born on the first of May," You and Rhys repeat, making you shocked at what you said.

"Now I see why your little prince was so eager to marry you despite your dirty family secret. You asked your grandma for advice. And advice she gave in the form of a pink bottle. Like mother like daughter."

"That's impossible, she's dead."

"Dead? Ha, don't make me laugh! You forget your parents made your personal knight. I've read your diary. I managed to break the spell you put on it. I know that three times a week and on certain holidays, you would go to a cottage in the woods housing your grandmother. All covered for by your dear half-witch mom."

"..."

"You learned magic. You know spells, curses, and hexes passed down through generations of your maternal line. You have a grimoire, a personal and family one. You wanted me out of the way so you could get the prince you never had a chance with. But guess what? Your prince is dead, and I'm the new king. You're going to be my queen."

"Rhys, you're crazy."

"You wouldn't want to break dear grandma's heart, would you? While organizing for the coup, King Faenelis, my father, found your grandma, and she told him her deepest wish was for her granddaughter and daughter to have a safe place to live and practice magic. With me as king, I'll bring a new age of magic to this kingdom. Your grandma can live with you again. You can see the cousins and family you never saw in public. You can feel no shame when your magic slips up. You could ride your broomstick whenever you want."

Rhys made a tempting offer. Sure, he killed the prince you drugged to get, but Rhys being king had many benefits for you. You knew what he wanted in exchange, and you had to grant it.

"I, Y/N L/N, break the physical and magical chains placed upon you and your family. You are free," You say, using magic in front of Rhys.

Silver chains appear around Rhys's body and dissolve into dust. You feel the suppressed magic of Rhys and back away. He summons a ring with a bloomed rose design for the green amethyst. Rhys puts it on your finger, and the elf magic flows through your body. A chain appears around your wrist, and a handle in Rhys's palm.

"What have you done to me?" You ask, feeling weak.

"I made you my slave. You're going to have to work your way up from slave to queen. You have to earn my trust. Don't worry, it's temporary. You'll be free after your true self," Rhys replies, pulling the chain so you crash into his chest. "I love you. We're going to have a great wedding with an even bigger after-party."

You hide your face in his chiseled chest. Both of your feet slowly levitate until you're hugging him midair. Being with him always made your magic act out. Then again, it was for the best. You were so tired and wanted to let it go wild. With him, you could do that. You could always do that with Rhys. It was one of your dirty secrets.

[spacebarbarianweird]

In Another Life, We Would Have Been a Family

Synopsis: Tiriel never knew her real father and Kay Dathnyar never knew he had one more daughter. Sylenn Ancunin, Astarion's mother, grieved her son and kept going. But what if one day… Tiriel's dad and Astarion's mum meet?

Tags: Astarion's mother, Tav's father, dadstarion

I really enjoyed writing Sylenn Acnunin in Past Grief so I decided to give her more agency. In this fic you will know about her past and how come she knew Balduran.The fic is set a day prior Dhampirs of the Sword Coast

Alethaine's age - 24 years-old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

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Masterlist

Headcanons

Kay Dathnyar recently turned 100 years old. Underage by elven standard, he’s been married thrice, fathered five half-elves, and has had seven grandkids and ten great-grandkids. 

For the last twenty years, he’s owned a tavern called “The Last Pixie” and is always ready to tell passersby why elves are a done cause.

“We are going extinct anyway,” he says to push anyone drunk enough to leave the tavern. “We need to fuck as many humans as we can and pass some decent bits of elven culture to our half-elven kids. Humans and half-bloods, that’s the future, not us!”

Kay is also proud to say he knows everything about his progeny. Dates of birth, fears and desires, favorite dishes and activities. He is often asked to solve issues between them and proudly takes the role of a wise advisor, but since he is still young, his advice isn’t always rational.

“Do you have any idea how many kids you have?” A tiefling called Birgga asks him. He is older than Kay by a decade and uses it to his advantage. 

“I have at least five,” Kay puts a mug of ale in front of him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, none of your wives has made you monogamous. There must be more than five.”

“Nonsense!” he says, noticing his wife, a forty-year-old blacksmith watching.

“Hm, wasn’t it you who slept with a married woman in the Sunset mountains? You are lucky her husband was away! The chieftain would have flayed you alive.”

“Well, even if it happened 80 years ago, I’ve been smart enough not to return there. They would definitely recognize me!”

“It’s difficult not to. Your face was made for mugshots.”

“I doubt they have them in those wild places. Maybe I should have taken that gal with me.”

“Ughm, her and her three sons?”

“The more the better, Birgga. Oh, how can you know? You don’t have children at all. Maybe we should find you a wife. Or do you prefer men?”

“Fuck you, elves, and your bisexuality.”

The tavern is quiet. There haven’t been any visitors for days – people are whispering something about demons and monsters on the roads. Some even talked about the mind flayers' attack on Baldur’s Gate that happened 45 years ago but Kay thinks that’s not really the cause of the stillness.

Still, there have been very few visitors. It's not like Kay needed money (he’s got enough saved in his chests), but the elf dislikes not seeing new faces.

A soft knock at the door snaps him out of his thoughts.

**

Sylenn Ancunin notices the tavern from a distance.

“The Last Pixie''. The slur is written in both Common and Elven (and also in Infernal) and Sylenn wonders if she should even enter the place. She knows the hostility of N’Tel-Quessira too well and she isn’t in the mood and shape to fight. 

She is five centuries old but still wears heavy armor like she did when she was young. 

But she doesn't want to. Sylenn is old and bitter even though she looks young. 

And she is coming home to Evereska to pay respects to her husband who was much older than her and must have been dead for centuries. And to wither in peace, hoping the Seldarine will have mercy on her.

“Come in, whoever you might be! We barely have guests!”

Sylenn enters the tavern and sees another elf at the bar.

“Welcome to the Last Pixie, etriel. Do you wish for a room or a drink? Or maybe both?” The elf outstretches his right hand to her in the human greeting.  “Name’s Kay Dathnyar, I am the proud owner of this place!”

“Owner,” Sylenn looks at him. “Then why did you call this place like that?”

“The Last Pixie? Well, aren’t we all the last of our kind? Here, have a drink.”

Sylenn watches Kay. He is young, underage even. Dark hair, green eyes. Moon elf, like her. But he talks like a human, even his elven words reveal an accent. 

One of these young souls who think they can live among humans and not suffer from constant grief.

“Are you an adventurer?” Kay asks.

“I was once,” Sylenn says. “Well, I still am. Sometimes.”

“How much for telling me why the fuck no one wanders these roads?”

“Yeah!” The tiefling adds. “It’s bad for business, you know? And we are peaceful people here, we enjoy ale and meat and would like to keep it this way!”

Sylenn notices three human girls watching her from the stairs. They watch Sylenn with the awe human children have for elves. 

“Go to sleep, you, three!” Kay orders.

“But Grandpa!”

“Go to sleep, or I won’t allow you to stay here after sunset! Kids…” He adds when girls disappear upstairs. “They grow so fast! Like, one day they perfectly fit in one arm and the next week you are beating the shit out of their boyfriends!”

“Are they yours?” 

“All mine, five children, seven grandkids, and ten great-grandkids. All live in Delimbiyr Vale but mostly here, in Loudwater. Family business.”

Sylenn frowns.

“I am sorry for you.”

“What for?”

“Because they will die. And you will bury them. Every single one of them.”

Birgga makes a disgruntled sound.

“Do you think I am not aware of that? I have buried two of my human wives and soon will become a widower for the third time,” Kay switches to Elven. “I’ve chosen this life.”

“You don’t fully understand. There is nothing worse than burying your own children. My daughter was killed when she was four. And my son… My son died bleeding to death in the streets of Baldur’s Gate. You’ve condemned yourself, Kay Dathnyar.”

“Well, etriel, then I welcome you to the house of the condemned!”

Sylenn decides to get drunk. Ale doesn’t affect her easily and she keeps ordering more till even Birgga starts giving her advice on how to avoid a hangover. 

“I have never seen anyone with her constitution drink that much!” Birgga mutters to Kay.

“You know how they say dwarves have the best ale tolerance? It’s a lie. Elves live for centuries and we can drink pure alcohol by the time we are old enough to forget our youth.”

“Well, at least she pays.”

“I am giving her a discount.”

“Why? Kay, since when you are into charity?” Birgga almost hisses.

Sylenn pretends she doesn’t hear them.  A young half-elf, who introduced himself as Lym and who has the same black hair as his father, keeps bringing her drinks.

Another shitty thing about being so old.You can’t get drunk.

A weird quirk – Sylenn remembers her grandfather, who was eight hundred when she was born, complaining he can’t drink away his memories. She laughed at him back then but now she suspects she inherited the same trait.

And she wishes she could have shut the memories up.

Her first husband, her thiramin, the love of her whole life, slaughtered by humans like prey. Their daughter, a silver-curled baby, brutally murdered by orcs when she was only four. Sylenn’s friends, aging and dying. Her second husband – Caeldrim. He was so much older than her that everyone thought she was his daughter. A good person, wise and reserved. Sylenn left him to look for their son in Baldur’s Gate, where she found nothing but his grave in the human cemetery. After that, she decided to never return to Evereska.

Maybe it was her fault, after all. She was told not to give her son an adult name right away. A bad sign. But she insisted that the baby boy in her arms must be named Astarion and should he not like it, he would be free to choose another one later.

And he died. Barely forty, a child by elven standards. Murdered and buried, all alone. She shouldn’t have let him go. Maybe later, when he would have been more prepared for the life out there.

“Hey, what’s happening?” Suddenly, Kay rushes to the doors. Sylenn hears distant cries and the sound of something heavy collapsing on wooden buildings. “Lym, get your brothers!”

Sylenn gets up and reaches for her sword and shield.

“Kay, hide everyone inside. It’s not a battle you can win.”

“It’s just an ogre.”

“That's not the point. Tell everyone to hide inside!”

Sylenn quickly fastens the straps of her heavy armor and prepares the shield and sword. 

A creature made of stone and wrath is crushing trees and barns. It grabs unfortunate village dwellers, smashing them just for the sake of it, and their lifeless bodies fall on the ground.

Ogremoch.

What in hell is it doing so far from the Earth plane?

“You!” Sylenn yells. “Attack someone who can fight back! Come closer! My sword is eager to pierce your stone flesh!”

“Sylenn, for fuck sake!’ Kay grabs her hand but Sylenn easily sets herself free and the young elf falls down. “Go and protect your family!”

The ogremoch roars and rushes towards her ready to smash the elven warrior with its fist. Sylenn protects herself with her shield, almost breaking the e monster’s arm.

She immediately jumps to her right and keeps her stance.

But before she manages to attack, the monster sweeps her off her feet. Her helmet flies away.

A powerful blow to her chest, which even heavy armor cannot protect her from, knocks the spirit out of the elven warrior. She coughs blood. The world gets blurry around her, and she can’t hear anything but the ringing in her ears.

Astarion must have felt the same, she thinks. When he was beaten to death.

Another blow.

She can feel the beast’s anger. How is she still alive? All thanks to the heavy armor.

Maybe she should just let the orgremoch do what it wants?

Sylenn has been hoping to die in battle. Sure, being murdered by a mindless creature in a village so tiny maps forget to mention it doesn’t sound particularly noble…

But why not?

Sylenn smiles.

“Corellon Larethian, to you I give my soul… Have… Mercy… On… Me,” Sylenn croaks, slipping into oblivion.

A whistle pierces the air. Ogremoch shrieks as a crossbow’s bolt gets stuck in its right eye.

“Fuck off from my property!” Kay Dathnyar recharges. 

Ogremoch rushes to the young elf but fails to catch him. Kay helps Sylenn to get off the ground. 

“Move!” Sylenn adopted her stance again. “Shoot from a distance!”

With a battle cry, Sylenn Ancunín lunges forward and her sword pierces the stone-like monster’s skin.

Alright, she thinks, as the monster collapses and her own legs wobble.

Not today, I guess.

Kay helps her to stand up and allows hSylenner to lean on him while walking her back to the tavern.

“I would have carried you on my shoulders, but my back wouldn’t thank me.”

“I've already been carried this month like that,” she says. “A dhampir. Alethaine or Athelaine. Carried me from a dungeon as if I weighed no more than a cat.”

“A dhampir?” Kay notices. “Vampires have been breeding like rabbits over the past 40 years, dhampirs are as common as tieflings now!”

“I beg your pardon!” Birgga helps Sylenn to unfasten her armor.

“I tell you, It's like some asshole released a bunch of vampires all at once,” Kay says.

“Hm, about 30 years ago I fucked a woman…” Birgga reminisced. 

“Congratulations, you won’t die a virgin.”

“... I fucked a woman and she was so cold and pale, I am sure she was a vampire!”

Sylenn, finally free of her armor, groans. It seems like she hasn’t received any serious damage, but she feels exhausted and weak. 

“Kay is right, there have been too many half-undeads and undeads recently. And also monsters and demons. The world’s wheel is in motion again and I doubt these changes will do us any good.”

Suddenly, Sylenn notices there are a bunch of young humans and half elves gathering outside the tavern. Not all look like Kay, so she suspects it’s just village kids. 

“Look, it’s her! The elf who killed the monster!”

“Did you see it? She murdered it like Thetir the Dragonslayer!”

“Hey!” Kay notices them. “Leave her be!”

“That’s all right,” Sylenn smiles. “Let them.”

The small crowd of youthlings immediately surround Sylenn.

“How old are you?” A human girl whose nose and eyes resemble Kay’s.

One of the older girls shushes at her.

“I am 517.”

“Wow! It means you are almost as old as Baldur’s Gate!”

Sylenn grabs a mug of ale. 

“I was Balduran’s bodyguard in the times when he founded the city.”

A cheer of awe erupts among the kids.

It’s fun to talk to these children. Sylenn has lived so long she’s forgotten her life wasn’t only grief and sorrows.

“... So, Balduran comes to me, angry as a troll, and yells ‘Sylenn! Stop drinking when I am talking to you!’ And I was like, ‘Balduran, with all the respect I don’t feel for you, I cannot take your bullshit seriously when I am sober!’”

“... And then I realized they were sailing west and if I didn’t quit now I would have to spend months watching Balduran and Ansur having their love drama. So, I stood at the aft of the ship, opened my arms, and fell into the sea. And seconds later it came to my mind that, maybe, I shouldn’t have jumped into the open sea in full armor! My grandpa would always tell me: ‘Syl, your brain is capable of only one coherent thought per day, and even then it backfires!’”

“... So, I got right into the evil sorceress's lair and she looked at me, in all her dark magic glory, and said ‘Sylenn Ancunin, I thought you were smarter.’ And my first husband, who she’d taken hostage, stares at her and says: ‘Lady, honestly, you really thought SHE WAS SMART?!’”

“... All right, all right, by the time I got my adult name, I finally learned not to mess with things that were bigger than me. I got a quest from a wood elf. Don’t remember his name, their clan was called Goldenroots or Goldenboughs, for some reason, they’d translated it to Common. And a young elf asked me to look after his father who’d run away with a sword. Their ancestors were Star Elves and they were passing a very particular sword from father to son. I went looking for the old elf and found him dead – he died in the dumbest way! He’d picked a spear which was clearly cursed. I took the sword – a very beautiful one and magical to the point it probably had its own will. Returned it back to the owner and was like ‘Bad news, your father died.’ And this Goldenroot elf chuckled and said ‘Thank gods I don’t have to tolerate his bullshit anymore. I hope he will reincarnate as a drow.’” Family dynamics can be so weird!”

**

“I am leaving,” Sylenn says to Kay two days later. “I am going East.”

“To Evereska?”

She nods. 

“It was nice to meet you, Sylenn.” He smiles.

“The feeling is mutual. Uluvathae, Kay!”

“Wait, these lands are dangerous to walk alone. Follow me.”

Kay takes Sylenn to the horse farm at the edge of the village. A herd of horses with silvery manes grazes peacefully in the grass, and their master, a young man in his twenties, sleeps by the stable.

“They look like horses from Evereska, but they are bigger,” she notices.

“We breed them with regular horses. They are not as fast and smart as their ancestors who let elves ride them, but they are stronger and bigger than the ones humans use. Nim, wake up!”

“Oh, hi Grandpa.” The young man yawns.

“I am our great-grandpa, lazy ass. Give Sylenn Lunar.”

“Are you kidding? Lunar is our best horse! It costs as much as your tavern!”

Kay slaps him on the head. 

“My tavern is priceless. Go get Lunar!”

Nim groans and a few minutes later returns with a gorgeous mare.

“Here, she is yours. She will take you to Evereska fast and safely.”

“Kay, I don’t have money to pay you!”

“Nonsense, Sylenn. You saved us. And besides, doomed we are or not, we are both born of Corellon’s blood. But you can repay me,” he adds when Sylenn saddles the horse and takes the reins. “I want you to tell everyone you meet on the road that ‘The Last Pixie’ is the best tavern you’ve ever been to!”

Sylenn laughs hearing the slur.

“No, no, I am serious, Sylenn, I need you to say the name out loud.”

“Alright! ‘The Last Pixie’ owned by Kay Dathnyar is the best tavern you can find!”

**

The same day, Luskan.

“Do you think they know you are a vampire?” Tiriel points at the guild members, feasting in the big hall. Astarion, as usual, stays inside the library doing the paperwork.

“I am sure they do, but should they want to make a big deal out of it, I will do the same out of their past. For example, our archer is a drow who masks himself as a wood elf. And the genasi-monk is not a monk and is wanted in Neverwinter for cannibalism.”

Tiriel sits beside him and puts her head on his shoulder.

“I love you.”

Astarion chuckles and kisses her cheek, tugging Tiriel closer. “My sweet, I love you, too.”

**

The same day, Waterdeep.

Alethaine Ancunín puts out the campfire, packs her things, and climbs the hill to see the City of Splendors better.

It looks much bigger and more beautiful than in the pictures.

The young necromancer adjusts the circlet on her head – it was given to her by an elderly elf, Sylenn, a month ago. A reward for saving her from the shadows in the dungeons. She said she’d made it for her deceased son and Alethaine sometimes feels a bit weird wearing it.

But then she sees her own reflection and reminds herself the circlet looks like it was made for her. It suits her silver hair and pitch-black eyes.

Maybe, the dead son of Sylenn looked similar to Alethaine.

“Well, Waterdeep it is,” Alethaine licks her dhampir fangs. “I have a very good feeling about this!”

--

I won't elaborate on the fact Birgga might be Theris' father. Also, the wood elf Sylenn returned the sword to is Elren Goldenroot's, Alethaine's husband-to-be, grandfather.

--

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[snobgoblin]

HOLA

can i know how the M6 would react to meeting Reise for the first time? (in your opinion ofc)

ohhhhhh my god good question..... I'm gonna take this ask into account with this

Asra- overall he's happy that Danny's happy. he's not quite sure how he feels about him being Lucio's son, too, though. but he doesnt let it show. after Julian (doctor who delivered him) and Lucio (his other father) Asra would be one of the first to see him. he's Danny's best friend! of course. he would show the baby little magic tricks and oh god no Asra you can't levitate the newborn

Nadia- she really isn't sure how to respond. the ask says she's the worst with children and I'm willing to bet that's because she'd do some shit like ask her servants to give a baby caviar or something 😭 she seems really out of touch sometimes /affectionate. ANYWAY she is handed the baby and formally welcomes him to Vesuvia, and the world for that matter. Nadia did you just give a tiny infant a diamond necklace

Julian- his first time meeting him would've been When He Was Born since he is Danny's doctor. he's the best with kids. he was happy to watch the baby while Danny recovered and Lucio soothed him. it's really a bittersweet experience with him... he's brought life into this world. but... people have also died in his care. during the plague... many children did. funny being a doctor, huh? it reminds him it isn't all bad. anyway this mother hen ass was telling him tall tales the whole night. who needs sleep when there's a baby to entertain

Muriel- absolutely uncomfortable. really really not sure how to respond. he's awkward enough with adults. what are you supposed to do around a tiny baby? it doesn't help that this is Lucio's baby. but he tries not to hold that against him. he would refuse to hold him because he isn't sure how and he's terrified he would drop him. he's also CONVINCED he would start crying the moment he did anyway (I think it would be a different story if it were say, his or Asra's baby. but this is someone he doesn't know all that well that had a baby with Lucio. it's awkward)

Portia- OHHHHHH she is so ready to make a new friend. HER FRIEND MADE A PERSON!!! THATS LIKE... A PRE MADE FRIEND. she's great with kids. the initial meeting is Exciting and maybe they have to tell her to calm down so she can hold him. but after that she'll often have him over and he'll take naps with Pepi in her pillow pile. OH on first meeting she's mad they didn't tell her ahead of time because she would have made him little baby clothes

Lucio- oh this man is PUMPED he MADE A PERSON WITH the person he loves more than anything are you kidding??? that's awesome. with a very heavy heart he takes off his arm's armor so he can hold him, that's definitely a hazard with all the sharp edges. anyway holding him was probably the first time he's ever shut the fuck up in his life, he was just speechless. he does want him to grow up faster though so they can get to the fun stuff that's definitely too rowdy for a baby but. in the moment, it's nice. Mercedes and Melchior are definitely very curious about him and at first he's like WHOA WHOA OKAY because they bite people but they do fine with Reise surprisingly

OH OH ALSO BONUS DANNY: it's really bittersweet for him because he knows Capra will never get to meet him. a lot of his family was lost to the plague and it's a shame he won't get to have that. but. for the moment he's really hopeful for the future. he loves nature and this is a part of that!! he wants to see where this goes. Also Good Lord He Is Glad It Is Out Of Him

[bihansthot]

So, I wrote a little something, it’s just some relaxing time with the Lin Kuei girlies, a little suggestive maybe but no ratings apply. It’s self ship so don’t get too excited but you can pretend it’s you if you want. Hopefully this will help get me out of my writers block! Any feedback is always welcome thanks lovelies!

I sigh with relief as my aching body slips into the welcome warmth of the hot springs, enjoying the luxuries of the Lin Kuei’s main temple. I have been sick all week thanks to my youngest son bringing home the flu from school, thankfully my flu shot from last year seemed to help and I was able to keep it going for the most part but today my body had had enough. I sink up to my chin in the blissful, restorative water before I hear soft footfalls, I don’t think much of them though.

“Lady Sol, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I didn’t know you were here,” I hear a soft voice call.

“Sektor, it’s fine, come sit with me,” I call my husband’s second-in-command over, we’re quite close and I’m quite fond of her company.

“Again my apologies,” she repeats and slips gracefully in next to me, close but not too close to feel uncomfortable knowing I had not grown up with public baths as she had.

“How are the new initiates doing? Bi-Han has been so busy getting ready for his brother’s wedding that he hasn’t said much,” I crack an eye open to glance at the female warrior.

“It’s going well, the new recruits are shaping up to be worthy of the Lin Kuei name,” Sektor relaxing as if she suddenly remembered she could be herself with me.

“How’s Cyrax? I haven’t seen her in a few days, she usually works with the twins on Wednesdays.” I reply a bit worried about her whereabouts.

“Apologies my lady, I was away on a mission this week, I thought the Grandmaster would have told you,” Cyrax suddenly appears before joining us in the relaxing water.

“Honestly he might have, I don’t listen to everything he says on the best weeks and poor Shixue has been sick with the flu all week and gave it to me and my brain has been a quagmire,” I respond apologetically.

“Are you feeling any better?” Sektor asks, her warm lips pressed against my forehead checking for a fever. “You feel warm still,” she frowns.

“Sektor I’m in a hot spring, of course I’m going to be warm, I’m fine now, well except for my stomach but that’s tolerable,” I try and assuage her worries.

“Are you pregnant again?” Cyrax chimes in, her brown eyes suddenly lighting up.

I laugh loudly, “I hope not! The egg hasn’t even hatched yet, though Bi-Han would be thrilled if I was.”

“He does love children, you wouldn’t think it with his abrasive personality but I’ve never seen him happier than when he became a father,” Sektor remarks sinking back into the water.

“You can give him one next,” I laugh and splash her lightly.

Her face goes as scarlet as her armor and she starts sputtering, “my lady I couldn’t possibly I mean what are you talking about he’s my Grandmaster and your husband!”

“Sektor I’m not blind, I know your feelings for him, it’s fine I can share him again,” I smile at her and give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“And I can be an auntie again!” Cyrax exclaims flinging water everywhere in her excitement.

“I can’t win against you two can I?” Sektor laughs before sighing, “how do I tell him though?”

“I can if you like, or, or better idea, you just join me in bed one night and we’ll seduce him together! He loves seeing Sareena and I together, I’m sure he’d go crazy for the two of us,” I grin at her feeling confident in my plan.

“M-my lady? The two of us? Together? With the Grandmaster?” Sektor’s voice rises in octaves as she continues.

“Well yeah, we share Sektor it’s all a big package, you don’t get Bi-Han without me too,” I explain.

“I-I understand and that’s perfectly acceptable I’m just afraid my lack of experience may displease you both,” she blurts out flushing deeper.

“Oh don’t worry about that, Bi-Han will LOVE that and I’ll help you out,” I smile softly feeling the tired knots finally leave my body.

“Too bad I’m not in love with the Grandmaster too, I’m feeling left out!” Cyrax pouts playfully before draping herself across my lap.

“At least you have the kids to keep you company though,” I laugh and pinch her cheeks lightly.

“There’s always Syzoth,” Sektor ventures trying to cover up her perpetual blush.

“He is cute, but I think I’m more into girls these days,” Cyrax hums.

“Thank you for volunteering my other partner,” I shove Sektor playfully, before the three of us can get into a massive water fight we hear heavy footfalls.

“Qin are you in here?” Bi-Han’s deep voice calls out.

“I am but I have company pervert so no peeking!” I call back sticking my arms over the girls chests as they both try and sink as far in the water as possible.

“Who’s in there,” he asks sounding a bit annoyed as if he wanted some alone time.

“Sektor and Cyrax are keeping me company,” I reply.

“Oh, good I just wanted to check on you since you don’t feel well and I was worried you’d feel too lightheaded. Don’t stay in too long, Bingbing is looking for you for a bedtime story, I tried but nope it’s gotta be Mama,” he explains before turning to leave.

“Well ladies, looks like I’ve been summoned, Sektor come by tomorrow before dinner and we’ll work something out,” I give her a wink before standing up and grabbing a towel, I dry myself off and follow after Bi-Han who waited for me.

“What business do you have with Sektor?” He asks, brows furrowing with curiosity.

“You’ll find out sooner or later, but I think you’ll be pleased,” I smile and stand on my tiptoes to press a kiss to my husband’s cold cheek. I pull on layers of warm clothing before donning my fur-lined robe and heading back into the bracing cold to read to my daughter.

[stargirlfics]

The Gentleman Chapter 3: After Hours

Alfred Pennyworth x Black Dancer!Reader

Summary: A night of dazzling spectacles and new firsts for you and Alfred

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, multiple/switching pov’s, mentions of minor injuries, mutual pining, lots of teasing, smut: oral (both receiving), praise kink, fingering, soft dom!alfred, sooo much dirty talk, intense and passionate PiV, creampie ending but with a slight twist

Word Count: 8.9k

Note: Ahh so this took me ages to complete and I know it’s quite a long fic too so thank you for taking the time to read it! I really had fun writing it so I hope it gives you all the same steamy, glamorous vibes it gave me!  

[series masterlist] [series playlist]

Alfred found himself for the first time in a long time, distracted. On the edge of a smile at all times now because of you.

The night you shared at the ballet was heavy on his mind, remembering how beautiful you looked, how good it felt to have you on his arm, the look of joy on your face as you watched, and of course, in the after, your body against his with the taste of you on his tongue, everything about you filling up his senses.

There was something else there too, something just beginning to tug at his heart, the kind of  feeling that both terrified and excited him, because it hadn’t taken long to realize that whatever was blossoming between you both would either pleasantly or painfully devastate him.

None of it was easy to avoid worrying about. Alfred was a worrier, it just couldn’t be helped.

There had been a time in his life where there hadn’t been room to worry, to panic, there was simply just doing.

Being able to forgo getting too emotionally invested was a necessity in order to do his job then, he was a military man, completing the assigned mission was his only goal and even in his circus days that never waivered, not till it became just him and Bruce.

After that, their deaths, worrying was almost all he could do.

Grief-stricken and on his own with a boy whose world had just been ripped apart, of course he worried every second of the day, hoping he could do right by the boy and do right by Thomas and Martha because they had trusted him so much they named him their sons guardian in the will and it had haunted him ever since.

His circle of loved ones was few and you had taken him by surprise, making him care about you right away, captivating him so much and so quickly he saw now that he never stood a chance.

So that’s where he found himself at present, worrying, thinking, caring about you, counting down the time until he can speak to you again, already having a routine, nightly phone calls, and talking for hours on end.

It stunned him how much he’d grown accustomed to being in contact with you, smiling to himself at the reminder of your voice, how he loved the sound.

Too soon, much too soon for his liking, those thoughts dissipated with the arrival of one Bruce Wayne in his peripheral, trudging into the kitchen quietly, lost in a fog of his own, only slightly startled to see Alfred in the kitchen too, forgetting and now realizing what time it was.

-

Bruce was exhausted but still alert enough to pick up on Alfred’s distracted stare as he stood preparing his morning cup of tea, a steaming plate of breakfast already at the kitchen table for the younger man to eat.

It wasn’t much longer after receiving his delayed greeting that Bruce connected the dots.

“You were with her the other night, weren’t you? I interrupted again,” he spoke quietly.

A pause.

“How do you feel?” Alfred poses a question of his own to avoid answering, unsure of how to respond, or how much to say.

That makes Bruce huff out a laugh, never having known Alfred to shy away from telling difficult truths.

The avoidance all the confirmation needed, a small smile forming knowing the man who’d been so selfless, ever by his side even when he hadn’t made it easy on him, had let someone in.

“Tender, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”

He’d been lucky the protective armor of the bat suit cushioned his landing and subsequent roll and skid into the side of that building as much as it did.

However, it was still bad enough he needed Alfred to patch him up and tend to his bruises that night, a tinge of guilt marking the moment at realizing his record of interruptions thus far.

The nonchalance of his answer earns the younger man a pointed look because no, Alfred wouldn’t categorize the rough test run of a new wingsuit prototype as simply “fine” even if it could have been much worse.

Alfred takes a sip of his tea and sighs, deciding to let this particular battle go, for now, it wasn’t the worst shape he’d seen Bruce in and that was all he was thankful for.

“Very well, but please, be sure to eat and I want you to take it easy today,” another pointed look accompanied his words.

“I will, thank you for breakfast, Alfred. You know….you can bring her here sometime. I’ll be out every night for the next week,” Bruce spoke carefully.

He was anticipating the older man’s surprise at the suggestion, biting back another smile because he hadn’t forgotten just what time of night it was when Alfred had arrived home to help him, perfume unmistakably on his collar.

The older man was about to speak when Bruce saw the surprise fade into concern about his whereabouts and hurried to reassure.

“It’s nothing dangerous, just staking out a case I’m following. You’ll have the place to yourselves, no interruptions I promise.”

Alfred was once again left unsure of what to say, settling on a curt nod as he watched Bruce take a promising bite of toast, already halfway out of the kitchen with the plate, knowing he’d find him asleep against his work table downstairs in a few.

Shaking his head, he processed the conversation, thoughts coming full circle back to you.

Unable to help himself despite wondering if it was too soon to ask you to stay the night, indulging himself in a daydream about seeing you dance, of bringing you here to the Tower, getting the chance to have you laid out underneath him, in his bed this time, of seeing you squirm and hearing all the pretty sounds you could make.

God how he missed your taste.

He missed making you feel good, still wrecked by your eagerness that night, stuck on the way your warm, soft hand had palmed over the stiffening bulge in his slacks.

He hadn’t felt this much desire in a long time and wasn’t interested in fighting it, focusing again to check the time on his watch, his phone resting next to his tea chiming with a notification from you, the sweet and thoughtful good morning text the extra push he needed to make up his mind.

Maybe he’d be taking Bruce’s suggestion after all.

-

It was late in the evening when Alfred spoke to you next.

His tired eyes had closed in content at the happy lilt of your voice, hearing about your day and vice versa, conversing until things went a little quiet and he decided then to stop caring about how eager it would sound and say what had been on the tip of his tongue all day.

“When can I see you again, darling? I miss you.”

“Oh, Alfred, I miss you too. How about in the next couple days? I’ll be performing most of the evenings this week and I’m sure you’re also going to be busy but maybe we could make it a lunch date or something.”

“Well, if you’d have me, I would actually love to come see you in one of your shows. I know how much hard work and love you put into it, I’d be a fool to miss a chance to see you on stage. Then maybe afterward, I was thinking we could come here, I could show you Wayne Tower, make you dinner if you’d like.”

“Oh! I would really love that. It means a lot that you want to see me dance and yes please for afterward, I need to see that book collection you mentioned!”

The sudden shy, softness of your voice made his heart swell.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else, it’s your passion and that’s important to me, I know you must be so stunning to watch.”

It drove him crazy to be able to hear the smile in your voice.

“Another thing, if I may. If you’re comfortable, you’re welcome to spend the night here then too, I…would love it if you stayed. I know we said we would pick up where we left off but we can also slow this down too.”

“No no, that’s perfect! I would love to stay the night, I was hoping to give you an after hours show, you know.” your tone was playful but he could hear the truth in it too, his own voice going low, husky.

“Believe me, love, I fully intend to see to our unfinished business.”

The reminder of the tension he was walking circles around with you had him aching, happy to be on the same page, at the confirmation that it wasn’t just him thinking of that bottled electric chemistry he’d only been given a drop of.

That was just fine with him though, he’d get to have you soon enough and you were well worth every second of time he had to wait.

TWO NIGHTS LATER

The Iceberg Lounge was bubbling with activity as the show’s beginning hour neared.

A sultry, mellow tune accented the club's chatter, everyone in their finest dress to match the grand theater inspired interior, drinks flowing and bodies buzzing, none more so than the dancers rushing to get ready backstage.

This part of the night was arguably your favorite; the chaos before the chaos.

Every girl on the roster was slipping into their outfits, everywhere one looked there were flashes of sparkles and lace and the quick click of heels back and forth, helping each other with hair and makeup.

Others were stretching out into warm up splits while Madame Olena helped with the costuming efforts, last minute reminders of steps and counts flying from her lips.

Maybe it was something about the ritual of it all, finding your vibe amongst the sequins and diamonds and pretty lingerie under twinkling vanity lights.

Tonight, you were in sheer tulle lingerie, the bodice of your matching corset embellished with crystals, winking softly at you in the mirror, making you feel luxurious, expensive, something to be adored.

Your breaths slowing down now to try and steady yourself, tummy fluttering slightly as you finish adding a light dusting of glitter to your makeup, a few stray flecks falling off the brush to frame your face, your hand just a little unsteady with anticipation.

Alfred would be in the crowd tonight and your nerves spiked at what he might think and at the thought of him seeing you perform for the first time, yet you were also comforted knowing he had wanted to come in the first place, and at the promise of an entire night with him.

Trying not to think about the way he’d devoured you that night had been a challenge and knowing he’d be seeing you perform only added to the dirty thoughts swirling in the back of your mind, but could anyone blame you?

It was all just so natural with him, easing into these feelings, the simmering desire, the safety of being around him, it felt so right.

But there wasn’t any more time to indulge with just a few minutes until the show would start, Kiera coming around the corner just as you checked the time, a few other dancers, friends of yours, in tow.

“Is he here?!”

“Where’s he sitting?”

The group’s collective whisper yell made you laugh as they crowded around you.

Roxie and Bambi were already helping you smooth on crystal studded pasties while you answered their questions, multitasking just as they were, helping Amber adjust the cuffs on her outfit.

“Yes! I told him to sit near the middle left but not dead center,” you exhaled with a smile.

“Right! So he’s got a better view of your position! So smart, oh my god he’s going to love it!” Amber gushed and you stood to readjust your stockings.

“He’s gonna be all over you after!” Roxie squeezed your side and you beamed back at them, any worries ebbing away now that you were all hurrying to take your places.

Your heartbeat sounded loud to your own ears, the smile on your lips there without effort, happy at your friend's excitement at what was happening between you and Alfred.

One minute more and you’d be in front of the crowd, a thrill running through your spine as the seconds ticked down.

On the other side of the velvet red stage curtains, Oz flashed a sly grin at the audience, announcing that his favorite and most prized dancing dolls would be taking the stage with a set of new, tantalizing routines, ones he was sure would bring in a lot of money tonight.

He’d instructed Madame Olena to make sure the girls were on top of their game tonight.

There were a few potential business deals to be made and he wanted to be sure the men he’d be negotiating with were nice and loose with champagne and the sultry dazzle of his dancers to give him a good deal.

The bright spotlights hanging above him moved to center stage as the club’s live jazz band began to play, capturing everyone’s attention.

Alfred’s cool gaze lingered a moment longer on Penguin’s figure melting into the shadows off to the side, his jaw ticking just slightly, not liking what he knew of the club owner, his involvement with Falcone, and the events of the last year making him wary, especially of the fact that he was your boss.

But his distrust of the man wasn’t what he wanted to focus on tonight, not when there were much more important things on his mind.

His attention refocused on the stage where a set piece of a door’s keyhole came into view, romantic piano notes, and the soft swing of the band accompanying the display.

The lights dimmed, the curved silhouette of a dancer now illuminated.

The set piece separated down the middle mere moments later, two halves of the keyhole swept away to either side, vanishing in a wave of darkness before the stage’s forefront was shining with light once again.

Rose petals fell softly from above, Alfred’s gaze catching their descent, sweeping down until there you were, perched beautifully atop a plush bed, against the backdrop of a twinkling Parisian skyline, your hand trailing up your stockings, over the delicate looking lingerie shaped to you perfectly.

The tones of blush and crimson against the dark rich shade of your skin were striking, capturing his attention immediately.

Breathtaking. You were utterly breathtaking.

The music crooned seductively as the other dancers around you began to move, leaving you to stretch out against the satin sheets, the theme of the routine puzzling into place now.

This was a glimpse in through the keyhole of a bedroom, angels residing inside.

Alfred’s face felt hot at realizing the voyeuristic nature of the routine, understanding further that it was mutual.

One by one the dancer’s acknowledged that the audience was watching, pointing out those in the crowd, giggling softly to one another before teasing with a wink or the shimmy of hips, the display making his chest tighten.

His eyes were fixed to you, however, watching you uncurl and push up onto your hands and knees slowly, giving a cheeky tease of cleavage.

You were magnetic, he could tell you were having fun and in turn, so was he.

There was a kind of delight in your eyes as you moved, your movements fluid, practiced but effortless, each one connecting to the other, the sway of your hips unmatched.

And then he watched your eyes scan the crowd while you flirted more reveals of skin, your gaze landing on him right away.

Everything felt slow like honey, Alfred forgetting how to breathe altogether when you touched your fingers to your lips and blew a kiss in his direction.

Some in the crowd whistled or cheered the more provocative your dance became once you’d risen from the bed and it had him shifting in his seat, allowing himself to feel a little smug that out of all the men in the room, he was the one your attention was on.

It was a touch on the possessive side yes, something he realized you brought out in him but he couldn’t deny just how much he enjoyed knowing that he’d be taking you home tonight, that while everyone here was certainly looking, he was the only one with the privilege to touch.

Alfred gazed back at you, hoping you could see the lusty adoration in his eyes, needing you to know every bit of it was for you as long as you’d have him.

Rose petals floated past your vision and heat simmered in your chest each time you glanced his way, adrenaline spiking hot in your veins as you teased the laces of your corset loose.

Bambi swayed in mirror of your steps to help you undo the rest of the laces.

Confidence in your muscle memory had taken over, your nervousness melting away the second you spotted Alfred in the crowd, handsome as ever in a coal black suit and tie, pops of gold appearing from the classic gold watch he always wore and the chain detail on his waistcoat.

He was going to kill you, driving your need higher with the look on his face, the sweetest cherry on top of it all.

You were enjoying this, being in your element, slow and controlled with the leisurely bend of your torso against the end of the bed, your stockings on display with your ass arched high while you held the loosened corset to your body in a hug, dragging out the reveal of skin underneath.

Even from the stage you could see that you had flustered him, adoration and want written across his features, and you hoped he could see the same in yours, because you were looking and noticing too, between the steps and counts of the music.

Moving now, you faced the audience again to slowly let the corset slip from your grasp, curling inward in faux shyness at the low wolf whistles and cheers.

Your hands caressed down your hips, resting there as Roxie and Amber joined on either side of you, signaling the jazzy swing of the band to fade out for something more modern, a heavier, dirtier beat required for the next sequence.

The three of you had worked tirelessly to perfect the equally as sultry heels dance accompanying the striptease, your gaze lingering on Alfred again as you began to move, your smile climbing higher knowing he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, probably not even if wanted.

Lots of men had watched you dance, lots of them had oogled at you and cheered for your performances night after night but none like him.

None had shown the same level of self restraint, consideration, or care for you that Alfred had.

Maybe it’s why this felt special, all of that being the foundation from where his desire for you grew, it’s why you felt safe with him and you couldn’t wait to be alone with him tonight, to see the exact moment his self restraint would snap after a night of being teased.

After all, how did that saying go again?

A gentleman is just a patient wolf.

-

Closing out the show had been easy, the cool soapy water in the large cocktail glass bathtub you were sitting in doing nothing to put out the heat still ignited from all the waiting and all the tension built up.

You blew one last kiss to the audience, catching sight of Alfred again, letting yourself soak in the image of him applauding you before the curtains were closing once more, slowly muffling the thunder of applause, the last of the rose petals floating down to cover your body.

Everyone else’s squeals of delight, relief, and exhaustion came moments later and you were carefully hopping down from the bath to collect the discarded pieces of your outfit.

It was then that you caught the approving look of Madame Olena in the wings of the stage, her approval not always the easiest to earn but tonight you’d pulled it off and the satisfaction was everything. As if everything had aligned just right.

The night’s success was celebrated with a quick but soothing shower, washing some of the sweat and makeup from your face and body before slipping back into the dressing rooms to chat with Kiera and the rest of the girls who were graciously helping you redo your hair before rushing you to slip out the back alley and start your night with Alfred already.

It wasn’t anything you needed to be told twice, the chaos of the night starting to calm when you finally emerged outside, muffled club music mirroring the thud of your heart as you met him outside the back entrance.

Tired feet quickly carried you towards him and he was following your lead from across the alley.

Closing the distance, he tucked his cane under his arm so he could reach out with both hands to embrace you, strong arms wrapping around your middle, squeezing and lifting you up to your tiptoes for a moment.

“My darling, you were brilliant up there, tonight! Absolutely stunning, you know that? I see why they come to watch you, you were beautiful.”

The deep, smooth tone of his voice, and the way his accent made the words sound had you grasping his arms just a little tighter, the praise unlocking something inside you as you thanked him and let him escort you to the car.

What a relief it had been that the drive to Wayne Tower hadn’t been a long one, the tension between you and him lingering, sticking to your skin, refusing to peel away.

You’d brought a small overnight bag which Alfred insisted he carry for you as you walked to the elevators that would take you up to the penthouse level, the reminder that you’d be staying the night with him for the first time sending the same nervous butterflies from earlier swarming in your belly.

But his hand was laced in yours and you were eased just as quickly, feeling steady leaning against him in the lift.

“I’m so happy to have you here tonight, love. I hope you’ll enjoy it,” his sigh is content, soft blue eyes peering low to look at you before placing a kiss to your forehead when you smile up at him in return.

The trail of heat his thumb left as it caressed across your knuckles was doing hard work to steal your ability to think, brain already foggy at the tender physical contact.

“I already am,” you finally managed to respond.

Now it was your turn to be flustered tonight, receiving no reprieve because the elevator doors were opening and you were met with your first glimpse inside Wayne Tower.

Gothic architecture greeted you, warm wood tones and sloping ceilings with ornate patterns of engraved wood connected an array of curved arches and pillars to create the main room.

Two staircases circled up either side of the entrance hallway and it was the contrast of this and the more modern exterior of the building that caught you off guard.

A large table sat in the middle of the main room, a stunning chandelier right above it, high reaching windows lining the back too, a flurry of details catching your eye.

There were antiques, gold colored trimmings, and a sense of grandness about it all that had you too busy admiring to pay much attention to Alfred’s amused chuckle as he helped you shrug off your coat and shoes.

It felt a little like you’d stepped into one of the dark, romantic castles in your favorite novels and you hoped Alfred would be kind enough to give you a tour one day, feeling yourself falling for the space’s unique charm already.

“You’re kidding me, your home is beautiful! I’d never leave if I had these views to look at,” you were still gawking at your surroundings as he guided you further inside.

A chuckle and then his voice followed, “I’m quite fond of it myself, my dear. Oh and I think you might enjoy this too,” he beamed back at you, leading you to one of the nooks coming off the main room.

There you found built-in shelves filled with books stretching up nearly to the ceiling, a heavy looking desk positioned in the space as well, his desk you presumed judging by the stacks of papers and stationary littered across its surface.

He was right, you were unashamed in marveling over all that reading material, tucking yourself close to him again as he showed you some of his favorite titles.

There was something very attractive about how easy it seemed he could point them out to you, knowing where each one was on the shelf, giving you little summaries of ones he thought you might enjoy reading.

You were looking closely at a section of poetry books when you felt him draw nearer to you, his hands sliding into his pockets.

Heat once again burned deep in your core, and you pretended not to notice how close he was, or that you wanted to press yourself against him so badly, unsure how soon to jump into the physical side of things again.

The scent of his cologne swayed you further, your distracted hums of agreement probably giving it away but you didn’t have the strength to act unphased.

Upon recognizing a few poets in his collection you smiled and looked over your shoulder to point them out, words catching in your throat when you found him already looking at you and it didn’t help that he was close enough now that his chest was just inches from bumping against your shoulder.

“Hey…I wanted to thank you again for letting me see you tonight, you’re a talented dancer and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop thinking of how you moved on that stage for a long time.”

Sincerity mixed with the desire in his eyes and you were melting all over again, moving so that you could hug him, resting your chin against his shoulder.

“Well, thank you for being so supportive. I don’t think I’ve ever been so thrilled to have someone in the audience. Seeing you in the crowd made me feel really good up there.”

Your fingers nestled into the groove between his waistcoat and the dress shirt he had on underneath, sinking into the comfort of being held by him, resolve growing weak with his hum of acknowledgment, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and flooding your brain with a haze that made you wish you could stay in his embrace for hours.

Alfred’s lips brushed the shell of your ear for a fleeting second and then you were pulling back to look at him again, ready to go further, to finally be with him how you wanted.

“You can’t keep looking at me like that, darling.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me want to kiss you, and then do more than just kiss you. You can’t look at me like that because it drives me crazy, it makes me want to take you upstairs so I can taste your pretty little cunt again like I’ve been thinking about doing all week, it makes me want to fold you in half and stuff you full of my cock. That’s why not.”

His words left you speechless, your lips falling open but nothing followed, a heavy silence blanketed the moment, time suspending and your breaths coming quicker because he was moving now, taking you with him, pressing you gently against the bookshelf.

You realized he was still holding back, even at the brink, not fishing for it but simply waiting for your permission.

“Please. I want that, I want you.” it sounded more like a whine but you didn’t care, not when his hips were keeping a steady pressure against yours, caging you sweetly.

He made a sound then, like a growl, deep in his chest, leaning in to brush his lips over your temple.

“Look at you, using your manners, being so patient, such a good girl aren’t you?” his tone low, like gravel against your ear.

Hearing him call you a good girl made you flutter inside, not expecting just how much you’d want to hear him call you that again.

Words were failing you, only being able to nod in response, but that was okay because his mouth was on yours mere seconds later, conveying everything words couldn’t.

A whimper broke loose from your throat as the kiss deepened, till his hands were sliding from where they had cupped your cheeks, down to your waist, tugging you away from the bookshelf and moving just out of your reach when your own hands slipped from his shoulders.

You hadn’t realized you were pouting at the loss of contact till Alfred laughed softly, your feet carrying you forward to reach for his chest, only for him to move backward at the same time, your fingers just barely catching on the buttons of his waistcoat.

“It’s mean to tease you know,” you huff playfully.

“Hm, isn’t that what you’ve been doing all night though, love? Looking right at me while you showed off that pretty ass of yours?”

His ability to render you speechless had again caught you by surprise, the pout returning to your face because he was right and was now getting you back for it.

You think of something to say quickly, trying to match his energy, “I…could show it off to you again, if you want a closer look.”

“Is that right? Come here then.” Alfred beckoned you over, holding out a broad hand for you to take, giving your fingers a squeeze when you laced them in his before he was leading you back towards the staircases.

Beautiful, gothic inspired hallways marked the journey to his bedroom, soft burnt orange lighting blanketed the wooden floors creaking gently in spots as you turned a corner and arrived at his door.

His lips were seeking yours again as you both stumbled through the doorway, no hint of teasing from either of you now.

The room was dark, stumbling around still until you were forced to part from him, your brain not having time to miss the contact because soon enough the room was softly lit from the bedside lamp and you were suddenly very aware that you were in his private space.

Charming furniture and several stacks of books caught your eye, everything in the room neat and orderly.

A standing mirror with several different ties hung over its frame was tucked away in the corner, a faded but cozy rug invited you further into the room and you couldn’t help but smile at some of the romantic looking art hung around the room.

The dark colored walls and hues splashed across the room made things feel enclosed, warm, the smell of old books and sandalwood coming to mind as you did a slow spin, eyeing some of his things placed on the dresser across from his bed before the sound of the door closing caught your attention.

Now that he had you alone you could see his resolve was nearly gone now and the sight of him loosening the knot in his tie and smoothly taking off his cufflinks made you want to drag him to bed, feeling your own resolve slipping further away now too.

You moved towards him then, heart beating fast as you watched him roll his sleeves up, strong forearms on display, his muscles flexing under your touch when you reached out to trail over the expanse of skin.

It feels almost like you’ve done it a hundred times before, leaving you wondering how your fingers weren’t trembling as you helped him undo the buttons on his vest.

Just how easy it felt to push the fabric from his toned shoulders, a whimper caught in your throat at the peek of his silver chest hair curling through the top where some of the buttons had been undone.

He was so handsome it almost hurt and you wanted him so bad it definitely hurt.

Broad hands were at your waist again in no time, keeping you in place and pressed against him close as you fell back against the plush duvet of the bed, soft giggles following, Alfred’s lips swallowing your content sigh in another kiss as you were guided further up onto the bed.

“I wonder how soaked you are for me this time,” came another gruffly spoken remark in between kisses.

Smiling now, you watch him trail kisses down your neck, your collarbone and shoulders, knowing the answer. Knowing that he’d find you slick and aching.

Your hands were starting to do some of the work for him, teasing up the hem of the dress you had on, letting it bunch up as your legs parted, spreading out for Alfred, moving so he could fit between your thighs, another wave of need crashing against your core when he moved down, his shoulders naturally pushing your legs further apart.

“Do you know how often I’ve thought of this, darling? God if you knew how often…”

You had been studying his face as he gazed at the thin, definitely damp strip of underwear covering your pussy, clenching around nothing at his admission, which is maybe why you gave one of your own.

“Me too…that night...I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I touched myself twice imagining you eating me out again.”

His hands were already smoothing over your thighs, the touch familiar, enticing.

“Yeah? I can’t tell you how hard I was when I woke up the next morning. I haven't woken up needing to stroke my cock that much in years, lovely. You’ve been driving me mad.”

The confession made you groan, whining out a few more pleas for him to touch you, taste you, fuck you, take you however he wants before he’s peeling your underwear down your legs, throwing it to the side.

You watch with bated breath as Alfred’s thumbs touch down on the soft, sensitive skin of your outer lips, pulling back just a tad to see the way you glisten, and then his fingers were rolling over your clit in a gentle circle and you were gasping.

The motion was slow, controlled, so erotic in how his fingers seemed to draw out the ebb of pleasure it gave, rewarding you with a few more tight circles before slipping down to explore your folds, gathering as much of your slick on his fingers as he could before the tip of his middle finger was circling over your entrance.

“Already such a mess for me, you’re so filthy and I love it,” he murmured while you whimpered again, hips jolting with a searing kiss pressed against your thigh.

Just when you thought he might move his mouth to where you wanted him most, he pulls back entirely, lifting his fingers from your heated skin too, not giving you much time to miss the contact because he was bringing those same fingers that were shiny with your essence up to his lips, tasting you off them.

“Oh my god…” your gasp mixed with his hum of delight all at once and then his head was finally tipping down again, this time to flick his tongue over your folds eagerly.

The trimmed scruff of his beard tickled your skin from where he was pressing his face against you, molding his mouth to your pussy, starting a pattern with his tongue, swirling careful licks over your clit, smiling against your skin when your thighs began to close around his head the more he gave you.

Your body felt hot, blood roaring in your veins, fingers beginning to clutch at the covers, needing something to grip.

Alfred glanced up, happy to see you feeling good, pleasure starting to work its glow across your face.

You couldn’t help but cover your mouth the more your gentleman devoured you, trying to suppress loud, needy whines threatening to escape, still unsure of how much to let loose being in his space, his room this time, a touch shy about how desperate you knew your moans would be.

There wasn’t any hiding from him though and he spotted your attempts to muffle yourself.

“Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me, I promise it’s just us tonight, darling. You can be as loud as you’d like.”

He was speaking to you in that soft commanding tone again and you were obliging, slowly taking your hand from your mouth when he resumed the movements of his tongue, pretty whines and pants breaking loose, filling the cozy silence in the room.

Those warm, broad hands that had been busy keeping your legs held open and wide for him loosened their grip for a moment, his right hand snaking around your hip to keep a hold on you while his other hand moved up, exploring.

Your dress had ridden up to bunch around your waist and you were happy the material had some give as you wiggled it up and over your head, letting it fall somewhere off the side of the bed.

This gave Alfred all the bare skin to touch, his touch moving up over your ribs, your breasts until the tips of his fingers were finding a familiar home against your jaw.

“Here. Get them wet for me.”

The words didn’t register for a moment, your mind still very hazy, eyes blinking down at him in question.

Catching the adoring look on his face sent you further into that fog until he repeated himself and you finally understood what he wanted, cursing under your breath at the thought of sucking on his fingers like he was telling you to do, clenching around nothing when the pads of his middle and index finger brushed over your lips.

The repeated command and the way he coaxed your mouth open made you squirm, willing and wanting to listen to any other command he might want to give as you wrapped your lips around his fingers, groaning at the residual taste of you on them.

It felt so filthy, mouth occupied with the task he’d given you while his own returned to eating you hungrily, keeping a steady pressure with his lips, humming against your clit just when your hands slid into his hair, tugging sharply with every hot swipe of his tongue.

His fingers were thick, feeling heavy on your tongue which sparked another wave of heat to spread through your center, imagining how his cock might feel in place of his fingers.

There hadn’t been time the other night to touch him, for him to fill your mouth like you had wanted but there had also been no mistaking how thick he’d felt against your palm, even through the material of his trousers and the reminder of it made you shudder.

Eventually, he pulled his fingers from your mouth, rather reluctantly because it also had him thinking about stuffing your mouth with something else of his but the need to keep making you feel good surpassed the thought, spit slicked fingers moving back down now to press against your dripping hole.

“I know but I have to get you warmed up, love,” Alfred lifted his head for a moment, hair disheveled from where your hands had been buried.

The edges of his beard around his mouth were damp with you, the evidence catching you by surprise, making your cheeks burn as he eased his middle finger inside your heat.

He was careful with the intrusion, groaning roughly at how little friction there was, and you, squirming in his hold again, head thrown back against the bed as his finger worked you open sweetly, slowly, experimenting until he found the right angle, stroking against a spot that made you gasp and then working in another finger when he felt you were ready.

It was all much like that night in your bedroom, in the care of Alfred’s very capable hands, stripped bare while he was still fully clothed, the tendons and muscles in your thighs strung tight with each expert plunge of his fingers.

“Oh, m-more, please, more,” you were crying out, wound up at the thought of him prepping you to take him fully, how good every curl and push and flex of his forearms felt.

He had been glancing at you frequently, torn between watching you take his fingers and watching the effect on your body, your face and now that you were brave enough to peek at him too, your breath caught in your throat at the lust in his eyes, the intensity of them piercing.

The duvet below you was already wrinkled beyond belief from where your fingers had twisted it in your grip, trying to tether yourself to something, more stress created in the fabric when Alfred indulged you in your plea for more, head dipping down again to focus on your throbbing, swollen clit.

Building pressure in your belly, in your very core signaled to you that you weren’t far from finding your release, crying out needily the closer you got, Alfred groaning against your pussy, feeling you tighten up around his fingers, encouraging you to let go with continued movements.

The quickness of your release took you by surprise, not anticipating just how fast the coil spun tightly within you would snap, coming hard.

Your body wanting to tremble and jolt with the waves of bliss crashing against it, hands leaving the sheets to cling onto Alfred’s forearms, moaning unabashedly at the weight of them pinning you in place, forcing you to ride out the last bits of your orgasm.

It wasn’t fair. How every touch he gave you sent you reeling and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

“Good girl, there you go. I could spend all night like this, you taste so fucking good, you know that?” came his content sigh, his cheek resting against your still trembling leg.

The praise sent you into another tailspin, emboldening you until you were moving to sit up, reaching for him as you did, following him towards the edge of the bed where he now stood, swiping a hand over his beard, admiring how pretty you looked on your hands and knees crawling towards him.

Finally, you were getting your turn to touch and taste him. A sly little smile worked its way onto your face as you sat kneeling in front of him.

Too impatient and too needy to take your time, your hands immediately went for his belt buckle, undoing it and the button and zipper of his dress pants in record time.

“Oh fuck…” the breathy sigh you let out punctuated the sound of the fabric and his belt hitting the floor as you pulled it and his briefs down in one motion, his cock springing free, hanging heavy in front of you.

You were right, he was thick, your mouth watering immediately at the sight and then even more when you moved to wrap a hand around his length, smooth, heated and throbbing skin meeting your palm.

The growled out moan rattling in Alfred’s chest at the tight fist you made around him had you biting your lip. He was uncut, the flushed pink mushroom tip coming into view as you stroked him slowly, relishing in the fact that he’d gotten this hard just from eating you out.

Pumping your hand a few more times you looked up to study his face for a moment, your thighs pressing together at the way he was looking at you, how he was breathing deep, his hands occupied with unbuttoning his shirt while you jerked him off.

“Go on. I can see how badly you want it in your mouth, it’s yours, just open up…there.”

Your tongue darted out to flick over his tip and you moaned when he twitched in your hand, liking how no longer proper and put together he was the more you took him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around him, sucking, licking, tasting him for the first time.

A string of curses left his lips when you started to bob your head, your hands leaving his shaft to rest on his thighs, eyes fluttering open to see him discarding his shirt, the bare expanse of skin and light dusting of silver hair across his chest doing things to you.

His skin had of course softened with age but the definition of his muscles, of his lean but strong frame remained and it drove you crazy, taking him deeper into the heat of your mouth, loving how you had to stretch your cheeks and lips wide to accommodate him, savoring the salty musk of his taste, how yummy he was.

Soft and hungry “Mmm”’s and whines slipped from you as you kept a steady pace, bobbing your head and letting him guide himself into your mouth at the angle he wanted, being good and relaxing your throat as much as you could when he started to slip deeper with each plunge, spongy tip meeting the soft, slippery walls of your throat.

Eventually, one of Alfred’s hands wound up in your hair, no longer satisfied with just cupping your jaw, no, needing that extra bit of contact.

Using his gentle grip on some of your hair to push you forward onto his length, although still careful not to crush the coils of your hair too much, again and again until he was pulling you off him and immediately leaning down to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

You were pouting for the third time tonight, making Alfred chuckle again too but he was quick to explain why he pulled you away.

“I wouldn’t have been able to last if you kept going, lovely. You have such a sinful little mouth and I love it but right now what I really need is to fuck you, what do you think?”

You were nodding, whispering your pleas, remembering those good manners he’d touched on downstairs, hoping it would please him and judging by the way he pushed you back against the bed, you had pleased him and then some.

Scooting back till your head was against his pillows you lay sprawled out, legs bent, teasing him with glimpses of your pussy while he moved to his bedside table, opening the drawer of it and fishing out a condom, the sight of him rolling it onto his length sending another flood of arousal through you.

Fitting your bodies together felt so natural, so easy, like you’d done it a hundred times before, your legs parting so he’d have space to get closer, both of you liking this position for the view of each other that it gave you.

The dim lighting of the room cast soft shadows across the ceiling, a romantic kind of glow blanketing the moment. Things were still heated but a little slower now, the anticipation of finally being joined in the way you were about to making you both want to savor the moment.

You trusted him with your body, knowing without a doubt that your comfort and pleasure was a priority for him and it's why you were encouraging him now, reaching down to wrap a hand around the stiff length of him again, guiding him closer.

He was leaning down then, kissing you deeply before helping you line himself up.

You were breathless as he sank into you nice and slow, nudging the head of cock just a little further when your walls began to yield to the pressure, the stretch making you pant, your head tipping back the further he pushed, keeping himself steady, not moving too much while you adjusted.

His own heavy breathing and gruff encouragement mixed with your sounds, lips staying close to your skin, the sharp prick of your nails gripping his bicep and then the meat of his shoulder made him grit his teeth, a smirk curling up on his lips.

Your thigh spread a little more as he eased in till his hips were flush with yours, the air in the room seeming to evaporate, feeling it in your chest, just how full you felt with his cock pushed deep inside you, to the hilt, both of you groaning in unison at the feeling.

Alfred held himself there for a moment, giving you a second to breathe which you were thankful for, lungs still trying to remember how to work, your toes pointing when he shifted, his hands moving to nudge the underside of your knees back a touch, starting to fold you in half like he said he wanted to do.

That made you clench around him, your head craning to look down where you were connected, before you were glancing up at him, finding him looking already.

“Want you to look at me while I fuck you, can you do that for me? I know you can, come on, show me you can,” his voice caught your attention, lashes fluttering at how deep, how low his tone was.

You were nodding before he could finish, heart skipping in your chest when his hips pulled back, the drag of him against your soaked walls nearly wrecking you.

And then he was pushing his hips forward again in a shallow thrust, testing out the waters, going slow, controlled while he got a feel for how much you could take.

This was beyond what you’d been daydreaming of, all your expectations met and exceeded, enjoying how close his body was to yours, how your limbs seemed to tangle in each other as he fucked you steadily now, thrusts going a little deeper, angling how he had before with his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well holding eye contact, sweetheart. That’s it,” he growled out, feeling the rock of your hips, his muscles tensing at how sweet the little motion was, how pretty you looked underneath him, taking his cock.

The sound of his skin meeting yours punctuated your moans and whimpers and his grunts against your ear, fucking into you deep each time, prickles of blissful heat making your toes curl the more he gave.

Until eventually Alfred felt you squeezing him practically with every thrust of his hips, hands moving again to brace against your torso, keeping you in place while he pulled back onto his knees a bit more.

One of his broad hands moved down from your ribcage to nestle against your lower abdomen, pressing down and using his grip as leverage to rut into you, nudging over and over against a spot that made your thighs start to shake once more.

The weight and warmth of his hand pressing against you on the outside and the deep plunge of him inside you sent you climbing higher to that edge, your moans growing louder, more guttural.

“Let go, baby. Let me feel you come on my cock, I’ve got you.”

The barrel of his chest pressed against you then, your bodies slammed against each other as he fucked into you just a little harder, chasing his own release now too, the sight of you so consumed by what he was giving you sending him hurtling over the edge just after you.

“Fuck, I-oh my god, Alfred!” your final cries were muffled by his lips swallowing them in a filthy kiss.

Your limbs exhausted but still clinging on as he caught up to you, making sure he knew you wanted him to come this way, knowing the condom would hold his seed but still wanting to feel the pulse, the throb of him as he finds his orgasm deep inside you.

It’s not a plea he can refuse, you both know that and it’s what makes it all the better, curses and moans dripping from both your mouthes.

Just how intense it is for both of you, your bodies still rocking against each other, riding out the feeling until you couldn’t anymore, both of you collapsing in each other’s embrace after, savoring everything that had just transpired.

Alfred was leaving soft, feather light kisses to your cheeks, your nose, your chest, easing from you after a moment.

His hands quick to massage over your hips, plush mattress enveloping you both as you took a moment to catch your breaths, gazing at each other in awe, exchanging sweet words to each other, remarking on just how great the sex had been.

The two of you lay spent and recovering for a while longer before your tummy growled at the perfect quiet moment, your glance at him a second later sending off a fit of giggles between you as he helped get you cleaned up.

After using the bathroom and freshening up a bit Alfred had insisted a midnight snack was in order, absolutely not hearing it when you told him you didn’t want him going out of his way to cook anything.

That had earned you a pointed look that eventually had you relenting, letting him lead you through the halls again to the kitchen downstairs.

Something in your heart was starting to unfurl and spread like wildfire as you sat at the quaint kitchen island and watched him fix you something to eat, grateful that he was so considerate of you, of what you might need even when you had insisted you were fine.

He was taking care of you.

It made you realize just how much he had been all along, quite literally from the first second you’d met, and in the time since he had kept showing you that he cared about you without always having to say those exact words.

Right down to this very second where he was telling you how there were some spare blankets he kept in his room that you were welcome to bring to bed, just in case you got chilly during the night.

You weren’t sure what to call this thing between you yet but it felt safe, being here, being with him, sitting across from him in the kitchen, sharing a sandwich in the middle of the night and you thought to yourself that maybe that's all that mattered right now.

Back in his room, a dreamy sleep awaited you.

Although returning to the space you’d gotten so intimate in suddenly made you feel a little shy about wanting to snuggle up against his side, you didn’t have to worry very long before his arms were sliding around your middle, tugging you gently so your back was pressed against his chest, your body wrapped up warm and close in his arms.

The hesitation faded and you let yourself melt in his hold, lulled by the motion of his calm breathing, and finally, the delicate, tender press of a kiss to your shoulder sent you off to sleep.

A/N: Ok but this pairing has become such a favorite, I think we all deserve an Alfred! 💌 oh and the dividers I used in this were made by the wonderful @saradika!

I hope the multiple pov’s here were easy to follow! I debated on whether to scrap writing the chapter that way but ultimately went with it because I wanted things to kinda play out/read like a movie and I like getting glimpses at other characters inner thoughts and feelings in addition to the reader insert perspective so went full tilt with the self indulgence and here we are lol and internet points to you if you’ve see Sucker Punch (2011) because I adore that movie and Babydoll’s fantasy world in Blue’s club were real big inspo for this chapter and the series as a whole!

Thank you for reading this far, friends! It’s so appreciated! Let me know what you think!

some tags, no pressure! @eupheme @thaddeuscranes @obiknights @flamingdisputes @squidlywiddly87 @mariahthelioness29 @allaboardthereadingrailroad @tarrenterror25 @matchamorphosis @ayoarticulate @aislupu @xnodamsel @kneelforloki @madamepoelzig

[aurore-parle-de-ses-idees]

7 with est 👀👀👀

7- hoarse/voiceless

this is absolutely au for est, because there are quite a few major beats in waves & wind that wouldn't really land right after all the au-ing i did four or five years ago. however. i wanted to put est on a boat <3 rough ch 5.3 for spoiler purposes

It’s a little funny, you think, that you’ve never really sailed. Not properly, not like this, not on the open sea where there’s no horizon in any direction and the water is even more unchanging than the open fields of Rohan. The Long Lake is wide and so is Nenuial, but they have nothing on these endless waters- and Sirgon and Daxamat both laugh when they tell you you’ve not yet left the Bay of Belfalas.

You know the storm is coming even belowdecks. It’s no sense so arcane as some of your crew seem to think- only long years spent studying the rising and release of thunder. You warn the others, and hope you don’t frighten Caebar too badly, and go up to the deck.

Dark clouds gather in the distance, visible from miles away with nothing at all to hide them- or to break them. You clamber up into the tangle of low-hanging rigging in the forecastle where Daxamat scowls at the oncoming storm.

“I swear the storms did not used to be so frequent or so angry in the Bay,” he says, and you grip the nearest lines for balance as the Wave-hunter tilts down a steep swell. The waves are already growing rougher.

“Is there no avoiding this one?” you ask, though you have no hope the answer will be yes. Daxamat gives you a disbelieving look.

“Not unless your fancy rocks can split the storm before us,” he says and you smile with half your mouth.

“You overestimate me,” you say, and he sighs.

“I was afraid that was the case.”

You study the angry stormfront. “...is there anything we can do to prepare for it?” You know the storm, but not the sea.

“Tie down anything that can be tied,” Daxamat says with a grim laugh. “Stay out of the way of actual sailors. And… make sure your knights are out of their armor. They wouldn’t want to go overboard like that.” You glance at him sharply.

“You think that’s so serious a risk?” Dax only shrugs, half leaping and half falling from the rail to the pitching deck.

“The way my last voyage ended? It seems better to be cautious in these waters these days.”

You wish, an hour later, that you could indeed control storms as Daxamat said, but you only ever borrow their power for a moment. There is power enough in this one to tear the ship apart.

No one is abovedecks who does not need to be- especially those of you who aren’t sailors. Sirgon listens to the groaning of the Wave-hunter and frowns over the nervous muttering of the rest of your crew, packed into the largest cabin and summarily instructed to stay there until the storm passed.

“We are far too near the Shield Isles for my liking to cross a storm this fierce,” Sirgon says to you under his breath. “We are on the side of the Grinding Jaws, and they were not named lightly.”

The Wave-hunter pitches to the side and even Sirgon staggers. Daxamat has already gone up to the deck to help, taking Sigileth and Legolas with him. You wonder how long it will be before you and the sons of Elrond will be asked to follow. You flex your hands, cold from the damp and the biting winds, and tighten the bindings on your rune-bag and Elenagil in her sheath.

The Wave-hunter shudders under your feet. Sirgon draws a sharp breath. There are cries from above. You're only halfway to the narrow stairs up when the deck goes out from underneath you and wood splinters with a sound only a little softer than thunder.

The water is cold and dark and churns so badly you couldn’t say if it was stone or ship or scattered crew that slams into you from all directions. You’re not a stranger to the water, but you've not seen anything quite like this before.

Well. You’re hardly seeing anything right now, either.

Lightning illuminates the water, brief but bright enough to find the surface. You reach for it, clawing your way skyward while thunder rumbles the water around you like a drum.

Something heavy strikes you across the back. Something cracks; you can’t tell if it’s you or the unseen thing. You lose your air, and you breathe in seawater, and you grab fruitlessly for something solid and choke on the wrathful bay until the waters take you away.

---

It’s dawn when you wake, pink in the sky and gold in the sand and black and brown and brilliant green in the cliffs above you. Your legs are still in the water, brushed by waves that seem gentle in apology for the storm before. You push yourself up, and your back screams as if struck anew, and you fall flat in the sand with a groan.

What became of the rest of the Wave-hunter? you ask silently of the sand beneath your cheek. It doesn’t reply, and you spit some of it from your mouth and drag yourself inch by inch beyond the reach of the water. You lost a shoe somewhere- only the one, though. Your throat hurts. Slowly, you gather yourself, and hope that walking will seem like less of a trial once you are standing.

A shadow falls over you. Someone speaks, and it sounds like Black Speech, and in sudden panic you throw yourself to your feet, already reaching for where your rune-bag should be.

Somehow, it’s still there, though it’s full of water and some of its contents must have escaped. You draw out a stone, but instead of words of power you only get out a harsh fit of coughing as your throat protests absolutely everything it can think of. When you can breathe again you throw the stone aside and draw Elenagil instead, falteringly taking the stance Faeron had tried so hard to teach you.

It is a group of goblins and orcs who scramble away from you, weapons raised and eyes hard, but they don’t fall on you immediately, even when you wobble and fall back to one knee. One of them elbows another and they argue in almost-whispers among themselves. Your head aches less badly than the rest of you and you think you can follow most of it. Some words are Westron and some are the Black Speech and some are another tongue altogether. Umbari, perhaps? You don’t know much of it yet. You catch wait and recognize and Gundabad, and after that trust and safe and can’t let her-. You try to speak, and cough some more, and, eventually, lower Elenagil.

“Who are you?” you ask, hoarsely, in Black Speech like you only really practiced properly with Viznak in the swamps. You’re not sure which of them is more surprised to hear it.

[queenaryastark]

Arya Stark is her Father's Daughter

Arya doesn't just share the Stark look with Ned. They also share values, insecurities, and abilities. When Ned was teaching Robb and Jon leadership skills, Arya was picking those up as well and we see her implement them throughout her chapters. That's not to say she and her mother don't have similarities. They do. Being similar to her father is not the same as having nothing in common with her mother. She can have similarities with both. But I'll start with one she only shares with Ned.

Insecurities

Arya and her father are both incredibly insecure as a second daughter/son who were overshadowed by their older siblings of the same gender. Interestingly, this is a parallel with Arya that GRRM also gives to Alysanne Targaryen, who he changed in F&B, making her more like Arya. But back to the Starks. Arya was bullied by her older sister and taught that she was inferior to her by the adults around them. Ned's insecurities come from being in the younger brother position for both Brandon and Robert, yet unexpectedly rising to Brandon’s place after his death. Even a decade and a half later, he still feels like he's not enough for the role he has to fill. Similarly, when Ned tells Arya that she will marry a king, she says that's Sansa. We're not in her head in that moment and there's definitely a lot going on on emotional and sociological levels (as well as logically given the current political circumstances), but part of that response is due to her insecurities. Despite factually holding the status of "lady", Arya insists that her mother and sister are ladies, while she is not. This is partly due to her insecurities in "failing" at being who her mother is telling her a lady must be.

Ned's:

"Brandon would know what to do. He always did. It was all meant for Brandon. You, Winterfell, everything. He was born to be a King’s Hand and a father to queens. I never asked for this cup to pass to me.” -- Catelyn II, AGOT

has the same feel as:

“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.”

Arya screwed up her face. “No,” she said, “that’s Sansa.” -- Eddard V, AGOT

Both of them either have been or are being set up by the narrative to fill roles they were told were meant for another. Regardless of their shared insecurities over their older siblings, Ned and Arya actually fill the societal aspects of their roles well, even to the point where the North is specifically rising for Arya and willing to fight in winter for Ned's little girl.

Speaking of which...

The Common Touch

An important aspect of ruling is making people want to follow you. That involves gaining their love and respect. Those who are best at this are said to have "the common touch". This is something Ned teaches Arya and that she implements naturally through her friendly and extroverted nature:

Back at Winterfell, they had eaten in the Great Hall almost half the time. Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. “Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.” At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and every day a different man would be asked to join him. One night it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk would be coppers and bread stores and servants. The next time it would be Mikken, and her father would listen to him go on about armor and swords and how hot a forge should be and the best way to temper steel. Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories.

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her “Arya Underfoot,” because he said that was where she always was. – Arya II, AGOT

Catelyn has this ability to engage with the commons to a degree as well. She knows the names of everyone at Winterfell and at Riverrun, even correcting a person who was currently living at Riverrun. She gives the oarsmen who bring her to King's Landing coin with her own hand to make sure their employer doesn't cheat them. She's always polite to servants. As a result, people regard her with respect.

It's worth noting that Arya shares this ability with Margaery and Alysanne, two belived queen consorts.

Leaders Who Do Their Job

Like Ned (and Cat), Arya believes in capital punishment. From her father, she gained the belief that the person who passes the sentence must perform the execution as well:

The Starks were at war with the Lannisters and she was a Stark, so she should kill as many Lannisters as she could, that was what you did in wars. But she didn’t think she should trust Jaqen. I should kill them myself. Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. “If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look him in the face and hear his last words,” she’d heard him tell Robb and Jon once. -- Arya VII, ACOK

So, the part of Arya’s story that others vilify her for and think makes her too far gone? You know, executing criminals? That comes from Ned and is actually an aspect of her character that proves she is going to be in a position of leadership in the end. She is already administering justice and dealing with complex choices on what justice actually is. This aspect of taking on hard choices and actions isn't exclusive to execution. Arya also takes up additional risks and duties while leading her pack through a war zone. She uses her privileged education to read maps, gather information including reading letters, and doing extra tasks like doubling back to obscure the tracks they're leaving. And yes, she also executes criminals.

Like Ned, Arya is being set up as a leader who actually does something as opposed to the leaders who distance themselves from the less pleasant parts of their job.

So, yes, Arya is like Ned in many ways that are fundamental to her character. This isn't controversial. It's just canon.

[blessyourhondahurley]

Suptober day 31 - This Bliss

A fluffy domestic day in the life of a happy, settled, married, post-hunter Dean Winchester and family.

Suptober prompt: Trick or Treat

(Read on AO3)

As the coffeemaker blurts out its last few brewing burbles, Dean snags the pot and pours himself a tall, fragrant cup. They've been experimenting with flavored blends recently, a project that Cas has gotten really into after Charlie sent him a gift basket of assorted coffees and teas for his “birthday” last month. Thanks to four decades of sludgy diner joe, Dean maintains pathologically low expectations for his morning cuppa, but he's finally comfortable enough in his masculinity to admit that the salted caramel spice variety they're drinking this week is fucking stellar, especially with a dash of cream. He adds that dash now, then shrugs and stirs in a little sugar as well. Why not treat himself?

There's a scuffle behind him, and he turns just in time to see Sam and Eileen stalking through the kitchen, arguing silently. He hasn't yet mastered the finer points of sign language, but somehow he catches “screwdriver”, “watermelon”, and “recycling bin” and decides not to inquire further. They disappear together through the door to the garage, still gesticulating furiously at each other.

Dean smiles at their backs and takes a seat at the kitchen table, He has another sip of his coffee and unlocks his phone. The villagers in his Animal Crossing town need his help with a fishing tournament today. He casts his line and waits.

“–en we'll ask Dean!!” is the only warning he gets before his kids burst into the room. Jack's in the lead, looking distressed. Claire is half a step behind, sporting the world-weary smirk she likes to wear like armor.

As soon as they're in front of him, they both start talking at once, and it's impossible to understand anything they're saying. Dean puts out his hands above the table, palms facing down, and lowers them slowly, a sign for calm down. Their voices trail off in perfect sync.

“Okay, let's try that again, only maybe this time actual communication can occur?” Dean points at his son. “Jacky, you go first.” Claire jolts, her mouth falling open like she wants to protest, but Dean turns his pointing finger upwards to indicate wait. “You'll get your turn, hon. I promise.”

“Claire says I'm too old to trick or treat tonight!” Jack says plaintively. “I'm only five!”

“Yeah but you look twenty-f–” his sister butts in.

Dean cuts her off with a barked “hey!” Mollified, she makes a zip-it gesture across her mouth, crosses her arms, and waits.

Jack continues. “Am I gonna get in trouble if I go out tonight? I don't want anyone to be mad at me! You and Dad said I could, though! My costume's all ready!!” He's giving the most puppiest of puppy-dog eyes, and as he finishes speaking his piece, a single perfect tear wells up and runs down his cheek.

Dean reaches for his son's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Claire-bear?” he prompts.

“I just don't wanna see the kid get his hopes up for nothing,” she says grimly. “He doesn't exactly look like your average first grader. People don't take too kindly to grown-ass men tryin' to scam them out of their Kit-Kats.”

“I get it,” Dean acknowledges, giving her a nod.

At this apparent confirmation of Claire's point, Jack looks like his heart is crumbling to bits in his chest.

“Hang on now, buddy,” Dean continues before the kid can work himself up to a full-blown meltdown. “Your sister's just looking out for you. But she hasn't spent as much time in Lebanon as we have, so she doesn't know that everybody's gonna be expecting you at their houses tonight. I saw Marta at the post office the other day and she said to tell you she's got a jumbo-size 3 Musketeers with your name on it.”

Jack is smiling so wide now it looks like his face is gonna split in half. Dean turns to Claire. “In fact,” he says, eyebrows raised, “I'm absolutely certain no one would mind in the least if Jack brought his big sister out with him this year. Whaddaya say, kiddo? You wanna scam some Kit-Kats with us tonight?”

His daughter likes to think she's a hard-ass, a firmly closed book, but Dean watches the emotions play across her face as she tries and fails to suppress her excitement at the prospect. She's still adjusting to peacetime, to post-hunter life. They all are. He and Cas like to grab every opportunity they can find to let their kids be kids for a change.

Claire is still struggling to find the words that will simultaneously convey both I don't give a shit about anything because I'm a stone cold bitch and yes please please please take me trick or treating tonight but Jack doesn't bother waiting. He grabs his sister's hand and starts tugging her down the hall, free-associating ideas for her costume as they go.

As their voices fade from his hearing, he gets up to freshen his cooling coffee. While he's at the pot, he reaches into the cupboard overhead and pulls out Cas's favorite mug, the sky-blue one with the cartoon bees all over it. He's just tipping a dollop of cream into each cup when his husband shuffles in, looking rumpled and delectable in his bathrobe and ratty slippers.

Dean presses the warm mug into his seeking hand and wraps an arm around his waist.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says with a soft smile. He nuzzles Cas's extravagant bedhead and breathes in the warm smell of the skin behind his husband's ear.

“Good morning, beloved,” comes the rumbled reply. “What were the kids talking about? They seemed agitated about something.”

“Claire's gonna come out with us tonight. Jacky's helping her figure out her costume.”

Cas takes a deep drink of his coffee and hums happily. “That's nice.”

“Mm-hmm. She's super excited about it, but she'd never admit that. Gotta keep up the tough cookie facade.”

“She reminds me of you at that age,” Cas says with a grin.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, I was a tightly-wrapped little basket case back then. Closet case, too, I guess. Took me a lotta years to become who I really am.”

Cas finishes off his coffee and sets his mug on the counter, freeing his hands to pull his husband close. “Indeed,” he rumbles as he starts to trail a line of kisses up Dean's neck. “You've matured into an exemplary father, a wonderful husband, and a magnificent man. And on that note...” Cas's morning stubble rubbing against the thin skin of his throat gives him the shivery tingles, like it always does.

“On that note?” Dean prompts, his voice breathy and tremulous.

“The children will be occupied with their costumes for the next hour or two,” Cas observes. His hands move down to gently cup his husband's ass. “I think you should take me back to bed.”

Dean flashes back for a moment on all of those basket-case years when he was too scared, too exhausted, too repressed, too busy expecting to die at any minute to bother dreaming about a happily ever after for his story. He never could have imagined anything this good, anyway. Safe in his home, warm with the knowledge that his family is nearby, he walks hand in hand with the love of his life back to their room.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

5 headcanons from a Trollhunters AU of your choice?

So there's this AU that I've had vague ideas about for a while, a roleswap where I swap all the canon ships (not counting Word of God ships and ships where we never see one of the characters). Do note that while the canon ships are getting swapped, the only canon ship that definitely gets together in this AU is Jlaire. (Staja and Darby are both maybe's, but I'm leaning no because IDK how much sense they'd make in this 'verse. Everything else is a NOTP for me.) (Also due to the amount of canon ships, you get more than 5 headcanons.)

Stricklake: Waltolomew is Jim's dad. Jim's bio mom walked out on them when Jim turned five - she accidentally saw Strickler in his true form, and she just wanted to escape. She was concerned that Jim wasn't human either, and she didn't want anything to do with him. (She was right that Jim wasn't fully human, though that didn't manifest as anything other than a very mild iron allergy until he got possessed by Morgana.) Meanwhile, Barbara is a local doctor who ends up getting roped in after she sees too much going on with the local teen defenders, and also after she ends up as Jim's foster mom when Strickler went missing.

Jlaire: The last battle between Kanjigar and Bular took place in a slightly different location, one that Claire was able to ride her bike to. She picked up the amulet and wasn't detected as quickly as Jim was in canon due to Strickler not going into the women's locker rooms. This allows her to have just enough time to learn to fight without Bular killing her for not knowing her way around knives like Jim does. Jim, meanwhile, has recently had the truth of his heritage revealed to him. If he serves the Janus Order well enough, then he can undergo the ritual that could make him a polymorph. (He never goes through the ritual but gains the ability anyways thanks to Morgana.) In the latter half of season 1, he became Team Trollhunters' man on the inside because he can't accept a world where Gunmar reigns (and also because Claire is very pretty in her armor.)

Dromura: Nomura became Kanjigar's apprentice, and while she didn't 100% expect to become the next trollhunter, she is miffed that this human girl with no fighting experience became the next trollhunter instead of her. She also briefly had a fling with Draal, who's human form works with Barbara under the alias of Dr. Aalbregt. Nomura once tried to get Kanjigar and Draal to meet in the hopes that Draal would change sides, but Kanjigar claimed that the impure was not his son. Ouch.

Staja: I'm not saying that Aja is the school bully, but she is rivals with Claire & Mary for popularity, with Claire & Mary being the femme popular crowd and Aja being the star quarterback. (Aja and Darci were neighbors growing up, so they're slightly more cordial.) She also teases Eli, but in a more friendly way since he's her little brother's BFF (and also Eli might have a crush on Krel). Eventually, the Tarron twins + Eli find out the truth. Steve on the other hand is the slightly spoiled heir to House Palchuk of Akiridion V. Seklos help us all.

Nanavex: Varvatos used to babysit Darci and the Tarron twins, sometimes at the same time, because he lives near all of them. He taught them to fight and can tell that something is going on. He doesn't know what. Nancy's son, husband, and daughter-in-law were all killed by the Zerons, and she was left to raise her grandson on her own. Between this and

Darby: I just can't see Darci getting the gravity cursed hammer, and I also can't really see her using a bow in this AU despite her using it in my seasonal amulet AU. I'm gonna say that instead she stole a fancy looking flute from the museum at the end of the second battle of Killahead. This flute was actually the flute that belonged to the Pied Piper, and it allows her to control small animals... and also goblins, because of the long-running raccoon joke. Mary never gets quite as involved in trollhunting as the others do due to being squeamish around violence, which causes her to grow distant from Claire and Darci. The coup happens earlier, Toby makes a cool bracelet for her, and Mary is selfish enough that she decides to befriend this foreign weirdo in order to get cool bracelets. (Due to the coup happening earlier, the two supernatural groups meet earlier. Toby gets to meet Vendel, who is more impressed with him than in canon. Vendel also likes Toby better than Steve.)

Stuart x Gwen: "The bounty hunter (Stuart) you (Morando) sent after us (Steve, Nancy, and Toby) became part of our found family." Meanwhile, I have two potential takes on Gwen. The first is that she's an untrustworthy rogue agent, willing to sell alien tech but also willing to sell secrets to whomever she thinks can get her the best deal. The other is that I replace Gwen of Gorbon with Guinevere, who was an alien all along in this 'verse, and Arthur thought that this foul creature killed his wife when he saw her in her true form. (In the latter case, there would be parallels between Guinevere/Arthur and Waltolomew/Jim's bio mom.)

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

[strangedreamings]

HOTD S2E3 (spoilers abound)

I like that they buried the twins together. In together, out together. Rhaenys counseling Rhaenyra was also good.

Ah, Criston. The Peter principle made flesh. Dude, your impatience is gonna get you killed (keep at it).

Once in a while, one of the Greens gets the group braincell and actually makes a good point. Of course, it never lasts.

Rhaenyra and Mysaria. Emma is killing it this season, they need an Emmy and a Golden Globe (and whatever other awards they're eligible for), they make you believe the pain Rhaenyra is feeling with their voice alone.

Rhaenyra asking her stepdaughter/first cousin to take her two youngest to Pentos. I can understand why but I gotta side with Rhaena on this -- if she had a dragon (i.e. been of use in this war), Rhaenyra never would've considered sending her away. When is she gonna get Morning? (Or is the rumor true and Rhaena is going to be combined with Nettles and thus get Sheepstealer? God, I hope not. We need more WOC on this show, not fewer.)

I swear, Caraxes is the only dragon I can recognize from any distance, because of his neck. Harrenhal. I hope we see its destruction someday, I wanna see dragonfire melt stone. I think this scene of Daemon looking for whoever's in the castle is supposed to be tense (there's no music, it's like the show is holding its breath), but all I feel is bored.

I love Ser Simon! (I've loved his actor for years now) He's pragmatic, a trait that is far too uncommon in Westeros. Also, he's funny -- he pledges his loyalty to Rhaenyra then immediately tells Daemon the dinner menu.

Daemon, quit being so goddamn picky about your form of address. "King consort" isn't a real title anyway. :P

Ser Simon isn't going to survive this season, I'm sure. Hell, he might not even survive this episode if he doesn't stop calling Daemon "your highness."

"The throne?"

"It's a big chair made of swords."

Daemon, you're a little shit (mixed) but I love your sense of humor.

Oh yeah, Alicent has a brother. He was in the pilot, right? He's pretty, which is a blessing and a curse in Westeros. Dude, if you had any brains at all, you'd leave Westeros and never return. Your sister and father are full of shit, you'd be better off without them. Ugh, I listened to him say three words and I already hate him. He sounds like every rich man's son talking to someone socially beneath him. Criston, the concept of friendly fire doesn't exist in Westeros but I'm counting on you to introduce it.

Can I just say I love how Criston's Hand of the King chain is worn? It looks to be attached to his armor. It stands out more than just a pin would have.

Dornishman? Oh, right, this is before Daeron II, so everybody still hates Dorne, got it. Add "racist" to Gwayne's other shitty traits.

Criston, you're really fucking pushing it.

As much as I hate Alicent, I think Olivia deserves all the awards too. Alicent is barely keeping things together and Olivia is doing a great job showing that.

Was the raven/crow eating Cheese's eye truly a necessary shot?

The music as the army leaves KL is really good. Ramin is at the top of his game this season (as always).

"It would be treason." My girl Rhaenyra, standing up to these men who want to set her aside.

I love Corlys and Rhaenys together but I know Rhaenys has a ticking clock over her head. Rook's Rest is coming soon. If not tonight, then next week.

Rhaenyra sending her three youngest away. It's sad that Aegon III and Viserys II probably know their nannies better than they know their parents. Rhaena and Baela had a good moment but damn, we need more from both of them, the writers aren't giving us nearly enough.

Aww, Helaena smiled at Jaehaera and it was so sweet.

"I forgive you," Helaena tells her mother.

For what, Helaena? For fucking Criston when he should've been protecting your son? You're forgiving Alicent for that? I know you're her daughter and I know you've got a big heart but seriously?

Aegon II is wearing his namesake's armor? That armor is 130 years old, surely it's out-of-date by this point. And how far are the writers going to take this "I have no identity of my own" shtick?

I hate Larys but his actor is compelling. Looks like it's promotions for everybody this season.

These new Kingsguard knights are pathetic.

Ulf the White, huh? I'm THOROUGHLY unimpressed. Also, would it have killed the hair department to, you know, give him the white hair he was known for?

Oh good lord, Aegon II goes whoring and runs into Aemond.

Full frontal, really? I think the show is trying too hard to go viral this season. Shocking moments need to be earned and (except for B&C) this show just hasn't done that yet. (No shame to Ewan. Like Nicola Coughlan, I'm sure he wanted to be able to look back on this year in the future and remember how hot he was.) Did the color of Aemond's sapphire change? It's not as blue as it was last season (or maybe that's just the shitty lighting).

Baela should've barbecued those assholes.

Oh, Rook's Rest has been mentioned! The countdown has begun in earnest.

Young Rhaenyra and Jaehaerys? Daemon, your subconscious is fucked up. But hey, a guilty conscience is better than no conscience at all.

So that's the famous Alys Rivers? What the hell was that voice? She doesn't sound like an adult at all.

"Killing her would be easier." Mysaria, honey, you are so right but if she did that, we wouldn't need the promised third season.

Rhaenyra, your crush on Alicent is gonna get you both killed.

She's dressed as a septa? I can just hear the Rhaenicent fans now.

I'm 99% sure this didn't happen in the book. *side-eyes the writers* Don't start going off-book now, you know what happened to GoT.

"though not before I killed you." Rhaenyra, you could've threatened her in a letter, you didn't need to do it in person.

I can't stop staring at the beadwork on Alicent's gown. HOTD's costume department could teach a thing or two to Bridgerton's.

This is getting us nowhere. Rhaenyra, this was a very dumb idea. Get out now before Alicent (who couldn't keep her voice down if you paid her) calls the guards.

You know, Rhaenyra, if your family didn't insist on naming EVERY THIRD BOY Aegon, you wouldn't have this fucking problem.

"... you know what Aemond is." A loose cannon with mommy issues? Just saying.

Ugh, they're ending it there? No tense moment of Rhaenyra getting the fuck back to Dragonstone?

Yep, we're definitely getting Rook's Rest next week.

[lya-dustin]

All is bliss

Chapter 48

Cw: Butcher’s Ball, childbirth complications, hallucinations, attempted murder

Gif by @daemonsdarksister

Taglist @mercedesdecorazon @alexandria-millie @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Their men were laid out as if they had been killed at a feast.

They have been like that in every village they have marched through these four days.

A grotesque thing Aemond is glad he isn’t walking through.

Because his mission is of great urgency, he attacks only if he must. House Darry folds at the sight of him and Lady Darry tearfully asks him to spare her infant son after Criston obliterated her husband and eldest sons in battle when they first marched out of Kingslanding.

Criston’s hand shook as if remembering an ill prophecy and agreed no harm will come to those who surrendered.

Something he hadn’t done when they set out. Had the chill of the Stranger in the air caught to him too?

Crossed Elms proves that nagging feeling right.

Their enemy had more men, fresh horses and every advantage they lacked.

Save for a dragon.

Archers attack them in woods unknown to them, Aemond is not spared as he tries to evade them in the air.

Vhagar’s too large and old to perform like a younger and sleeker dragon.

And they knew that.

So he and Cole call for a parley, just enough to buy them time.

“If I strike my banners, do you promise us our lives?” he asked the three of them.

Three seasoned and grizzly commanders, such men bore scars and dents in their armor enough to make Cole look green as grass.

Aemond felt like a squire pretending to be a man. Like the little boy who used to wear Daemon’s winged helm as he stand before Ser Garibald Grey, Pate of Longleaf ,now called Longleaf the Lionslayer, and Rodrick ‘Roddy the Ruin’ Dustin.

Men who won the Fishfeed with only their wits and skill.

They have no chance against them even with Vhagar.

“I made my promise to the dead,” Ser Garibald replied. “I told them I would build a sept for them out of traitors’ bones. I don’t have near enough bones yet, so…”

No.

They choose to fight on knowing their victory is assured.

If he dies he will die with Aemma’s name in his lips, like all the knights in the songs.

Ser Criston answered, “If there is to be battle here, many of your own will die as well.”

The Northman, Roderick Dustin, laughed at his words, saying, “That’s why we come. Winter’s here. Time for us to go. No better way to die than sword in hand.”

Ser Criston drew his longsword from its scabbard. “As you will it. We can begin here, the four of us. One of me against the three of you. Will that be enough to make a fight of it?”

It won’t, they won’t give in. They know better than to let them live.

So Aemond interrupts with the thing that may make them change their mind.

“The King is dying, our mother’s own cupbearer poisoned him after her brother failed to kill me. Queen Aemma, the queen you fight to liberate is nearing her time. If you let us go you have my word that her son will be named king and I will not move a finger to take what is hers by right.” The prince regent said hoping to make them change their minds.

“We know, we took down your ravens and your riders. The question is, how do you know that?” Red Robb Rivers and his sister, Alysanne Blackwood, asked coming down the ridge with their archers.

Oh, they were fucked.

“Dragon Dreams, I have been plagued by them for the past five nights. The king in his bed weak by the poison and the queen in hers as she brings forth her babe.” He lies. Better blame his Valyrian blood than tell them the witch is in his mother’s employ. “For all I know both my brother and his wife are already dead and the babe with them.”

The men are divided about it, but those of the north, especially the silver haired Crannogman with eyes as green as Vhagar’s flames seem to believe him.

“The First Men have Seers too. You may go, but only you.” Roddy the Ruin said, thank the gods for the Northman and their superstitions.

“Go, your brother needs you more than I.” Criston said as Aemond looked at him for the last time. “Godspeed, your highness.”

Vhagar is scarcely in the air when what’s left of their men and the Lord Commander are killed by a rain of arrows.

Garibald Grey would later call it Butcher’s Ball.

The babe is taking its sweet time to come.

The queen has been in labor for a day, and the midwives and maesters are close to giving up.

She has walked up and down the hall, she has been given castor oil, she has been moved by the midwives on the blanket and nothing is working.

“There is a way.” A maester suggested as Silverwing echoes her rider’s scream.

There is no real need for it, not yet.

But the queen knows the whore is the reason her son is half dead in his bed.

If she’s gone, Aegon will live and so would her two younger sons.

The only way her family is safe is if all of Rhaenyra’s family is dead.

They see will see you as you are, the dead princess whispers behind her as blood runs down Alicent’s hands.

Yes, they will, they will see a mother who would do anything for her children, the queen bites her tongue lest they think her mad.

Her aunt went mad, Denyse who was committed to the Motherhouse for fear of shaming them.

They would lock her up too ,if they knew.

“No. We cannot.” Gerardys and Orywle are of the same mind on this.

If she dies any chance for peace is gone.

If she dies like her namesake did, Aegon will be known as her killer.

But her family will be safe from her and that is all that matters.

Queen Alicent chooses to override them. “The king’s heir is at risk, if we wait longer both she and the babe will be lost.

If we must choose, we need to choose the king’s son over his mother.”

There is clear horror in their faces as she says this.

Even Alys cannot hide it in hers.

“Your grace, will you not reconsider it?” the aging midwife pleaded with her. The same woman who helped bring Aemma into the world now being told to help them take her out of it.

“If we do not decide now---” the queen pretended to care for her gooddaughter's wellbeing and yet she is interrupted by the all too familiar roar.

Aemond.

She had told Alys not to summon Aemond, why had she gone against her wishes?

If he is here he will choose her.

How can she save her family if they refuse to let her?

“Maester Orwyle, do what you must to save the prince.” The queen ordered and the man did as ordered.

He can hear screams, those of his men and Aemma’s in Silverwing’s roars ringing in his ears as he rides his coal black horse like a madman.

Aegon was weak but not dying, Aemma was having trouble delivering their babe.

His mother had ordered for them to save the babe at the cost of it’s mother.

This was the news he received the moment he arrived.

We have lost the Riverlands, was all he had to say in turn.

It would be a mercy if Aegon died now.

If Aemma died with their babe, Joffrey would be made king with his Lady of Runestone beside him. Nothing would stop Daemon from burning the city to the ground nor his men from sacking it.

If Aegon died, but Aemma lived, Aemond would be king and have the upperhand in negotiations.

There would be other children and even if she is left barren she had three brothers and two cousins to provide heirs for House Targaryen.

They would wed and all will be righted before winter sets in.

“Whatever you do, save the queen.” He orders as he raced against time.

It helped both were in the same suite of rooms saving him the trouble of having to choose which bedside he goes to.

Her screams bring a chill to his bones not unlike Criston’s and his men’s.

“If you fail to save the queen I will kill all of you myself.” Aemond runs to her instead of his brother.

Aemma cries out for him, covered in sweat, blood and tears.

They were going to cut her open. Mother had given the order.

The moment Aemma is safe, he will have her placed under custody.

His mother had very knowingly committed treason, but that look in her eyes speaks of madness.

Madness he’s never seen before.

“I’m here, Aemee, I’m here.” The prince takes her sweat covered hand and kissed it as if it would will her to keep fighting. “You can’t leave , not when I’ve only just returned, sweet girl.”

His reputation be damned, he won’t leave her and he won’t let his mother kill her.

[void-inked-pen]

I noticed that you did a kind of an analysis of tmnt 2012 and I was wondering what your thoughts where on Rise's fighting style and how the kids use their weapons?

I technically did analysis of both shows but i can give you an overall consensus

from what i can tell from rise IN GENERAL, they are a lot more balls to the wall about everything action wise. mystic powers adds a whole knew realm of craziness to what they can do and because it overall runs on cartoon logic... the majority of their moves would physically be impossible kjsdhfjkd

the basis for how they fight tho is sound. Splinter fights pretty much exactly like Jackie Chan (considering that's what Lou Jitsu was inspired by, it only makes sense) so all of his moves, minus the tail, are more or less actual martial arts. He is by far our standard, what a master can do and how well he fights regardless of the circumstances. He taught his sons to think outside the box with everything they do and to USE everything at their disposal when they can (fish and ladders), they also are very dynamic with how they fight if not more so.

the only times they show off their skills in regular martial arts was during insane on the mama train and i believe the episode where raph got his sparring buddy. Foot Recruit (Casandra) is probably the only character who... fights with martial arts 90% of the time actually? Raph is the only one of the boys who fights with his fists more often than not but he also is the protector, will jump in the way of attacks, and is close quarters all the time, he actually relies on his mystic armor often and his general bulk as well.

if we compare fighting soley with weapons and their accuracy/skill, rise beats 2012. But if we compare the boys and their actual SKILL at martial arts, my bet is 2012 would in theory have more behind it (though as I've stated before, 2012 doesnt really show any of that correctly if at all. if rise is more creativity focused, 2012 should have been focused more on the martial arts/ tradition aspect. but because they never really fought hand to hand often, its hard for me to really say anything about comparing their martial art skills).

overall, rise is an... odd duck in the tmnt franchise because not only do they have more accurate fighting with the weapons, but we don't actually see legit martial arts outside of the Foot Clan and Splinter... maybe a BIT of Draxum too when he and splinter actually fought hand to hand but not much. Thats it. But taking into account how the turtles in rise are far more immature and more kids who got thrown into a lot of weirdness, it makes sense that they dont really take anything all that seriously. I mean idk if splinter really taught them much on the physical hand to hand past the basics when they were younger before throwing weapons at them.

I would have loved to see more hand to hand fighting with rise, and the tmnt franchise in general, but weapons are seen as cooler to some people and its technically safer to walk around with a "big stick" or "giant sword" than nothing at all. I mean, have you BEEN to new york!? (/hj)

hope this helped in any way, I know it wasn't much. I personally love martial arts street fighting in stories but we don't see that past gangs and delinquent shenanigans and rise is more centered around fun and weird/creative so its hard to really... talk about the martial art side. maybe some day i'll do an overall fight analysis so you guys can learn the basics of "what makes a good fight" vs a bad one but im busy kdsjhfjskd

thanks for the ask!

-Pen

Edit: OH SHOOT! I forgot to add: April knows martial arts too! she shows it off often enough but she also uses her bat equally as much and likes to fight with her brothers at her side, she is literally what I would call "a CO-OP fighter". what that means is, she works best in a pair or group. Using other people as LITERAL spring boards some times and her environment to help her. She has a crane license. what more can I say about the queen herself? lol