welldonebeca

[welldonebeca]

bloodbrothers (Epilogue)

WC: 2.6k words Warnings: Modern AU. Fluff. Comfort. Closure. Set in December 2023

Read chapter 1 now Previous chapter: Chapter 22

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“Jacaerys Targaryen-Velaryon!” the teacher called him across the stage.

Jace had a thermal shirt and leggings under his suit — the same suit he wore for the ball — and then the big school gown on top of it.

And that was cause they were inside the school building for this. Graduations in the North were not outside affairs.

He barely made it to the stairs before the cheers erupted — loud, unmistakable, and entirely his family. When he glanced out at the crowd, he wasn’t even surprised to see them all on their feet, still completely bundled in oversized puffer jackets meant for outside and clapping like their lives depended on it.

Luke, naturally, had an air horn.

He blared it twice before Kepa snatched it from his hands and passed it to Mum.

Who promptly used it herself.

Daemon gave her the flattest look possible while still clapping for Jace.

Jace grinned as he walked across the stage to take his diploma.

He’d done it.

He’d graduated.

One full school year in the North. Two relationships, two breakups and enough jobs to cover the cost of a brand-new car.

And somehow, against it all — he’d made it. At last.

Did he want to go home in March? Absolutely.

Did he stay only because of Cregan? Also yes.

Did that relationship last past Rickon’s birth? Not even close.

So from August to now — that was all him. He stayed for the right reasons, learned what he needed to, and earned this moment.

If he ever came back to Winterfell, it would be in the Summer.

When he dated again, it wouldn’t be a Stark.

And if it was a guy, he’d make sure to ask if there was a pregnant ex in the picture before things got serious.

Did he end up with a best friend? Yeah.

And a whole bunch of other friends — who also happened to be related to that best friend and his ex-girlfriend? Sure.

And honestly? That was fine.

He stepped across the stage, shook hands with his teacher, and accepted the diploma — heavy, official, and kind of surreal. The school photographer snapped a picture, and the lights overhead felt hotter than they should’ve been for a freezing Northern day, which was really good.

Jace turned around, and there was his family again.

Mum was clapping and beaming in that way only mothers could, and Kepa was looking at him with a proud smile bigger than smiles usually appeared on his face. Both Baela and Rhaena had their phones out — one with Helaena on a call, he knew, and the other filming him — and Luke had placed Viz on his shoulders so he could watch everything and clap as well. Dad was drying his eyes from clearly crying, and so was Harwin.

Hopefully of happiness?

Eggy and Joff were jumping, and Uncle Joffrey was at the foot of the stage with a camera and filming him shamelessly, and Jace shook his diploma to him.

Grandma and Grandpa were clapping too — smiling, if a little sheepishly, probably embarrassed by the noise his family was bringing.

He’d missed that chaos.

Was it easy to get thirteen invitation slips? Absolutely not.

Did it take his mother calling the principal, tears and all, dramatically explaining how she’d sent her oldest son to the North, how the family had never been apart before, how it would crush their spirits if even one parent or sibling or grandparent missed it — followed by a generous donation to whichever school department needed it most?

Yes.

But they’d all come.

And maybe Jace had pulled a few strings for Arya too — helped make sure her whole family could attend, including Arra and Cregan. Why not? It was a day for showing up.

He walked down to sit with the other students, and she high-fived him as he sat by her side, and stuck out his tongue for their selfie.

They did the whole thing, of course — tossing the hats, taking photos, hugging until it got awkward, and shouting over each other about where to eat.

But when he finally made it to his parents…

They were talking to Cregan.

Not just talking — engaging. Happily!

Rhaena was cooing at Rickon, who was giggling in his mother’s arms like she was the funniest person he’d ever seen. Then Luke just immediately started playing peek-a-boo with him, making exaggerated faces that had the baby shrieking with laughter, while Rhaena shifted focus to Arra — talking like they were old friends catching up.

Jace didn’t even have time to turn around and escape before Baela swooped in, catching his arm and dragging him toward the group with purpose.

“And here is the boy who forgot to mention this little cutie even existed!” she announced, planting herself right in the centre of the chaos.

“Jace!” Viz cried out happily, perched in Uncle Joffrey’s arms.

“Little Dragon!” Jace grinned and called back, just before being pulled into the storm.

It was hugs and kisses, face-squeezes and hair-tousling — mum, dad, Uncle Joffrey, Joff, Eggy, Viz, Grandma, Grandpa…

But not Kepa or Harwin.

He looked around, confused, and he could see Harwin talking to Ned Stark, but not Daemon.

“Where’s Daemon?” he asked.

Rhaena shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Some random dude took a picture of us, so he’s probably off somewhere threatening to sue him.” she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze. “Congratulations! You're officially the old one now!”

Jace snorted, squeezing her back.

“Thanks for the warm welcome into old age,” he teased, pulling away just enough to shoot her a playful grin. “But you were still born first.”

Rhaena pulled back and narrowed her eyes in feigned confusion.

“What do you mean? I’m a high-schooler,” she declared dramatically. “You’re a college student now. First time you’ve ever been the first at anything.”

He rolled his eyes, the grin still tugging at his lips, just as Cregan stepped in front of him with a smug little smirk.

“Apparently, your family likes my baby,” he said, nodding back at his siblings back to cooing at Rickon.

Jace held his hand — the same one they’d used for their pact, beneath the heart tree — and grinned.

“Told ya.”

“Congratulations,” Cregan said, his voice sincere. “I hope Dragonstone is even better.”

He smiled, exhaling.

“You’re free to visit,” Jace offered. “All three. We plan to clear up a few more rooms in the castle.”

Cregan grimaced.

“Or we can all go to King’s Landing instead?” he suggested instead. “No need for a boat ride?”

That made Jace chuckle.

“I’m sure Arra will love it in the winter there,” he said, nudging Cregan lightly. “It’ll feel like the hottest summer day you have ever seen.”

Cregan laughed under his breath, and for a second, it all felt light. Easy.

Their final goodbye came at the airport, just before Jace boarded the jet to New Valyria.

That was when it hit him — really hit him — that everything was done. Over.

Harwin looked a little choked up as he spoke to Mum and Dad, and then they both hugged him at once, which was all it took. That broke whatever dam they’d been holding back, and suddenly the three of them were crying in a quiet, huddled hug.

Jace watched them, heart full and aching all at once.

It had to be a strange relationship, right? The one you had with the guy who donated sperm so you could have a baby or three. Who never pushed but never disappeared either and turned out to be someone you could trust enough to let your son live with for a year because he wanted to see what life could look like somewhere entirely different. Because he needed to find himself.

It couldn’t have been simple, ever. But they made it work.

Jace looked back at Cregan, finding him looking at him with soft eyes and a little sad smile.

“That’s it,” Cregan said quietly, voice low.

“It is,” Jace nodded. “Heading home now.”

“Permanently,” Cregan added.

Jace gave a slow, steady nod.

“Permanently.”

If he ever came back North, it would only be as a visitor.

They stood there for a moment, silence stretching gently between them. Jace glanced at Rickon in his stroller — Cregan had brought him along, since Arra was off enjoying her free Mondays, a match to Cregan’s free Fridays.

“Don’t let him forget I exist, yeah?” Jace said with a half-smile. “I’m Uncle Jace.”

“I’ll keep your picture on the wall and point you out,” Cregan said with a snort. “See that? That’s your rich uncle. He’s the one you ask for all the expensive stuff when we say no.”

Jace snorted, shaking his head, but there was warmth in his chest anyway.

“Sure, yeah,” he pushed his hands into his pockets. “I’ll start budgeting for bribes now.”

Cregan smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked down at Rickon, who was staring at the overhead lights like they were constellations, and Jace could see the weight settle into him.

“I mean it,” Jace said, voice softer now. “Call me. Doesn’t have to be about Rickon or Arra or anything at all. Just… if you ever want to talk.”

Cregan turned to look at him, still smiling sadly.

“I’m glad we met,” Jace said. “Even with all the mess. It was a good kind of mess.”

Everyone had their chaotic first love, didn’t they? Mum had her girl. Dad and Uncle Joffrey had each other. Kepa probably had some Valyrian punk-rock summer romance in the ‘80s with a manic pixie dream girl.

Cregan’s expression shifted, his shoulders rising in a half-shrug.

“Me too,” he said. “You made the mess worth it.”

Jace nodded, and Cregan cleared his throat.

“And you too. Call. Even if it’s just to complain or be stupid or… whatever.”

They stepped in at the same time, the hug a bit stiff at first, but Jace pulled him in tight. Cregan didn’t resist.

When they pulled apart, silence settled again. Across the terminal, Mum and Dad were moving away from Harwin, rounding up the kids. Boarding time.

“I should go say goodbye to Harwin,” Jace exhaled.

Cregan nodded. Jace leaned down toward Rickon, gently pressing his finger against the soft sole of his shoe. The baby looked up at him immediately, those big, brown eyes locking on.

“See you around, little man,” Jace murmured. “If your parents ever say no to something shiny on TV, let me know. I’ll see what I can do.”

Cregan snorted behind him.

“We’ll keep your number on speed dial.”

Jace nodded stiffly, his laugh catching in his throat as he stepped away and made his way to Harwin — who had clearly given up on pretending he wasn’t crying and was now just wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“You’ll finally get out of the cold,” Harwin said with a damp smile, sniffling.

Jace let out a little chuckle.

“You never appreciate volcanoes until you lose their heat,” he said with a shrug. “And hey — now you’ll finally get me out of your hair.”

Harwin scoffed.

“Living with you wasn’t so hard. Vermax was the worst of it.”

Jace laughed at that. Oh, come on.

“He doesn’t hate you,” he reminded him. “He’s just a little bit dramatic.”

But Harwin scowled, shaking his head.

“I’ll just keep a respectful distance from anything with teeth that can make me its dinner.”

Jace grinned, and for a moment, the pressure in his chest eased. Harwin took a deep breath, blinked hard, and sniffed more — just barely holding himself together.

“You were a good roommate, Jace,” Harwin said. “And a great kid. It was good having you here.”

Jace swallowed hard, a knot rising in his throat, almost suddenly.

“Thanks, Pa,” he said, voice low. “For everything.”

Harwin gave him a sharp nod, his jaw tightening and his eyes shining.

“Always,” he said. “And you can come back anytime. Anytime.”

They pulled each other in for a hug — tight, all warmth and weight. When they stepped back, they didn’t need to say anything more.

Jace turned, glancing once more at Cregan and Rickon. Cregan gave him a little wave, Rickon kicking his legs in the stroller like he understood, and Jace returned it with a soft smile before waving at Harwin one last time.

Then he turned and made his way to the private gate.

The outside was freezing as he rushed to climb the jet’s stairs, but he felt the change in temperature right when he passed the door — the inside was perfectly warm and welcoming.

Mum and Kepa were already helping the boys peel off their extra layers, and Jace took the chance to pull off his own jacket and gloves, tossing them onto the growing pile, and checked Vermax’s carrier. His cat was curled up, napping happily.

“Finally,” Baela celebrated from her seat. “Come on, let them close the door, it’s impossible to keep warm like that!”

He didn't mind her, making his way to his usual seat.

“Gods forbid a guy wants to say goodbye to his friend,” he scoffed.

She rolled her eyes, sat with Rhaena, who was already deep into whatever embroidery project she’d brought to keep herself busy for the flight.

Jace glanced around the cabin. Grandma and Grandpa sat together across the aisle, speaking in low, contented tones. Uncle Joffrey had wasted no time — he was already reclined, eye mask in place, clearly planning to sleep through the whole flight.

Everyone was settled. Everyone was ready.

He turned toward the window, watching as light snowflakes started falling down.

Yeah. Time to go. Best to be out before the snow got heavier.

He heard the door hiss shut, followed by a soft chime overhead. The captain’s voice crackled through the cabin speakers.

“Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain speaking. We are preparing for departure from Winterfell Regional, en route to New Valyria’s Sister-Queen Shaera airport. Flight time will be approximately seven hours and four minutes, with clear skies ahead once we rise above the storm front. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened as we taxi to the runway. Welcome aboard.”

Luke dropped into the seat beside him with all the grace of a falling snowman, jabbing Jace in the ribs as he buckled in.

“Finally gonna get you home,” he teased. “Don’t forget to click in.”

Jace smirked, snapping his belt into place. Across from them, Mum and Kepa were settling around a table, Viz by her side and Eggy by his.

And although he really, really tried not to notice, Jace caught the look Kepa shot at his mother — knowing, smug, and just subtle enough to be infuriatingly telling about what he was thinking about. Kepa scratched at the seat arms with both hands like he knew very well what had happened the last time he'd done so, and Mum raised her eyebrows in warning, though there was a smirk on her lips.

Jace tried not to gag.

Seriously. Was anyone in his family ever decent in a jet?

The jet rumbled beneath them as it began to taxi. He turned his eyes back to the window, spine straightening unconsciously.

There, just beyond the glass, was Harwin by the windows of the terminal, waving to them like it hurt not to. And near him, Cregan held Rickon in his lap, bouncing him gently, eyes on the plane, Watching and waiting.

Jace raised his hand and waved, hoping they could see him, even as the ground began move and the distance widened. He didn’t stop until the plane was fully off the ground.

…

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. . .

Jace/Helaena shipper? Maybe you'll like to read the rest of their arc in this universe!

dragonmound

For his birthday, Jacaerys gets a girlfriend, a foursome and a somewhat less-worse relationship with his half-uncle. — (Set in January 2024)

Productive (on Patreon now) — Coming to Tumblr/AO3 on the 28th of August

Jace's campaign with Calvin Klein inspires Helaena to buy a curious skirt. It's a domino effect, really. (How exactly the twins were conceived.) — (Set in December 2024, about a month-ish before "rūhossa, muña, kepa")

rūhossa, muña, kepa

Helaena has a dream about two kids. Her kids. “Jace, I need you to buy me a pregnancy test.” — (Set in January 2025)

the wedding of the century (on Patreon now) — Coming to Tumblr/AO3 on October 2025

On the 15th of February of 2025, Jacaerys and Helaena get married, and the two sides of the Targaryen family try to come together peacefully to celebrate the occasion. Nothing like a wedding to drag everyone back into civility and out of a few messes they got themselves into.

[welldonebeca]

Daella Targaryen

🩵🩵🩵

[welldonebeca]

A Perfect Match (9)

Ravenna III

Chapter Summary: Ravenna and Rosetta entertain visitors during calling hour. WC: 2.1k words Warnings: Regency AU. Fluff.

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Read Chapter 1 Previous chapter: Chapter 8

Despite my (many) complaints, I must admit I am finding moments of genuine joy on this trip. Rosetta's happiness is contagious, and I find myself laughing more often with her than I imagined. She has a way of making even the most boring events bearable, Uncle. It will certainly make those endless social engagements much better for me. Once again, I am deeply grateful for your help in managing our estate while we're in England. Knowing you're overseeing everything gives me great peace of mind while I'm so far away. Your support has been invaluable for us, and I can't thank you enough for stepping in during our absence. I hope we return home soon, and you can have your well deserved rest. I miss you so very much in this place. Your advice and humour are sorely needed here, the English aren't nearly as interesting to sit and talk as you are. I look forward to receiving your letters now that we have settled with our grandparents, and to update you on everything we are seeing.

- - -

“Venna?” Rosetta called, knocking on her door.

Ravenna raised her hands, looking back, putting her quill aside.

“Vieni,” she called back.

The door opened and closed quietly with her sister, who immediately walked over to her desk. Ravenna signed up the paper quickly, adding an affectionate goodbye to Zio Alessandro.

Con tutto il mio amore, Ravenna Matarazzo.

“It’s calling hour soon,” her sister announced, very cheerful.

"E perché sei qui a tormentarmi invece di aspettare i tuoi pretendenti?” she hummed, setting her quill aside.

Rosetta didn’t answer, moving to her and taking the letter from her desk to read it.

“Forgive me, miss, I only speak English,” she taunted, her tone light and playful.

Ravenna rolled her eyes and sighed.

“What do you do up here, then?” she asked. “Instead of waiting for suitors in the calling room?”

Her sister was already dressed, with her hair up and looking pretty ready to receive anyone — or promenade around for said suitors.

“Without you?” she asked. “And be a one-woman show?”

Ravenna shook her head, pushing her hair behind her ears.

“I don’t have reasons to be down there,” she reminded her. “I don’t know anyone in this land that isn’t inside this house.”

“Of course you don’t,” Rosetta rushed to her, letter forgotten. “We’ve just arrived. They are coming to see Nonna and Nonno, and we just happen to be there, waiting for a formal introduction while we embroider.”

That made her pause and raise her eyebrows.

“And since when do you embroider?”

Rosetta laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, I’ve become quite the expert,” she said with a dramatic flair. “I’ve embroidered exactly one handkerchief, and it was terrible, and Nonno decided it is his now. But that’s not the point! The point is we need to be seen, Venna. We need to make connections, and you can’t do that hiding up here.”

She wanted to roll her eyes again.

Ravenna all the connections she needed already, why would she need to mingle with anyone?

“Besides,” Rosetta brushed her fingers down her hair, twirling a lock slowly. “If I’m to find a husband amongst these men, don’t you think it’s important for me to have your opinion?”

That made her look up at her little sister and sigh.

Oh, didn’t she know exactly how to convince her?

“Fine,” she conceded. “I’ll come down, but only to keep you company.”

Rosetta grinned.

“Oh, it’s all I ask,” she told her, moving quickly to her hair. “And I’ll be happy to do your hair as a gesture of gratitude.”

That made her squint. Oh, that was a two-way sword, Rosetta liked her hair very differently than Ravenna.

Still, she couldn’t fight her little sister as she pouted.

“Please?” she pleaded. “Per favore, mia Venna? Per tua sorella!”

Mia Venna! Oh, that was evil!

“Va bene,” she sighed. “Va bene. Do what you want.”

She tried not to feel tense as Rosetta did her hair.

Ravenna never had a season, she never even tried. After Mama had died, Papa needed all the help he could possibly get with Rosetta, her sister needed to be taught everything a lady should be, and Ravenna also had to learn her duties as the next Marchioness. She didn’t have time for men, or marriage.

She debuted, yes, in the sense that they considered her an adult, but she never put herself in the market. And then Papa had died and she had to command things, and then it was Rosetta’s time of debuting…

“Rosetta!” she winced, feeling her tug on the side of her head.

“Sorry, sorry,” Rosetta mumbled. “Just stay quiet.”

“What are you doing?” she scoffed.

“My rose,” she told her simply. “What else would I do.”

Ravenna sighed. Well, she would know. The first hairstyle Rosetta ever learned was to braid a rose on top of her hair — Ravenna’s hair, because she was always her doll — and she did so many variations of it, it was her favourite thing.

“How many braids are there?”

“Just eight,” she hummed. “Nothing much.”

Ravenna chuckled. Just eight.

“You know, Venna,” she hummed, moving something in circles, “I think you might enjoy this more than you expect. We could find some good allies.”

She raised her eyebrows, the lack of a mirror not allowing her to eye up her sister.

“Allies?” she parroted.

Rosetta hummed positively.

“Friends,” she said simply. “You can never have too many friends.”

She exhaled. Maybe.

Her sister pinned her hair up, at last, and patted her shoulder.

“Let me pick you a dress,” she told her, as if Ravenna wasn’t already dressed up.

But she was always her doll, wasn’t she? She could never say no to Rosetta.

So Ravenna let her dress her up and wasn’t surprised to find herself in the sweetest of blues and even rosy pink lips and cheeks, perfectly matching her sister in seafoam green – and, of course, the braided hair.

“Twins,” Rosetta winked at her.

She couldn't help but smile back as her sister linked their arms and led her down to the drawing room, her enthusiasm far too infectious. Rosetta was all smiles, while Ravenna tried not to look too awkward.

They stopped by the door, and she tried very hard to keep her expression straight when she caught sight of not one, not two, but four strange men in the room, and Nonna shot them a very amused look.

“Girls,” she greeted them, standing up and leaving her embroidering aside. “We are so glad you decided to join us.”

Ravenna curtsied politely and she felt her sister doing the same as their grandmother walked to them.

“Come,” she called them.

The men all stood up, bowing politely to them, and one of them stepped forward. He was quite tall, with light hair and dark eyes.

“Girls, this is Mr Philips,” Nonna introduced them. “Mr Philips, my beloved granddaughters, Miss Matarazzo and Miss Rosetta.”

They curtsied, and the man smiled politely, his eyes very focused on her sister.

"Mr Philips," Rosetta spoke cheerfully. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Rosetta, Miss Matarazzo," he responded with a slight bow.

Nonna then gestured to the next gentleman, a quite distinguished-looking a bit short, a bit older than the other three, and a man who looked quite a bit like him.

"And this is Lord Hinton,” she introduced the oldest, though not looking too certain. “And Mr Hinton.”

"Miss Matarazzo, Miss Rosetta," they greeted.

“We’re honoured to meet you, Lord Hinton,” Ravenna greeted them. “Mr Hinton.”

At last, Nonna showed them the last gentleman, who didn’t quite meet their eyes.

"And this is Mr Feilding,” she introduced him.

“It’s delightful to meet you two,” he affirmed.

They all moved back to their activity, and Ravenna tried not to look too obvious when she sat on the short couch with Rosetta and they picked up their embroidery projects.

Now, they had a system — they were sisters, of course they had a system. Ravenna couldn't come up with any designs from memory or imagination. On the other hand, Rosetta couldn’t embroider or stitch or sew, but she could draw perfectly. So, one designed whatever they would create, and the other embroidered them. It worked quite well.

Ravenna was just checking back in where she had paused her flowery piece when she heard Mr Philips clearing his throat and raised her eyes to find him approaching them.

“Miss Rosetta,” he greeted. “May I?”

Rosetta looked right at her, and Ravenna gave her a simple nod, focusing on the intricate roses in front of her as the man took a seat on the sofa across them.

“Of course, sir,” her sister greeted. “Good day.”

“Good day,” he greeted in a deep voice. “Lady Pembroke was just telling me how much of an appreciator of the arts and an artist you are. She spoke so very enthusiastically of you it made me the most eager to meet you.”

She tucked in her chin, trying to pretend she wasn’t listening to every single word they spoke.

“Oh, grandmama is too kind,” Rosetta left her fabric aside. “But I do enjoy painting as a hobby, and studying it in my free time.”

Ravenna glanced up, and his eyes were all sparkly.

“Miss Rosetta, your reputation precedes you,” he affirmed. “Tell me, what do you think of the works of Hans Holbein?”

Maybe her sister was able to hide her smile, but Ravenna couldn’t help but grin, hiding her face behind her embroidery project.

Rosetta adored Hans Holbein, and the way her eyes lit up made it clear.

“Holbein’s portraits are magnificent,” Rosetta exclaimed. “His ability to capture the subtleties of his subjects' expressions is unparalleled. Not to mention his skill with details!”

Mr Philips leaned forward slightly, clearly pleased with her response.

“I quite agree. His attention to detail and the lifelike quality of his portraits are extraordinary. There’s an exhibition of his works coming up at the gallery. I was wondering if you might be interested in attending?”

Before Rosetta could answer, Ravenna was startled by Nonna’s voice.

“Ravenna, my darling,” she called. “May I have you for a minute?”

She glanced at her.

What did she need her for?

“Of course,” she answered anyway, setting her project aside. “Excuse me, Mr Philips. Sister.”

She stood, crossing the large drawing room to get to her side, and caught Lord Hinton’s eyes right as she did.

“I was discussing with Lord Hinton how much of a musical fan you are,” she affirmed, looking up at him. “You know, I can’t wait to finally get to listen to you play.”

Ravenna stiffened a bit, turning to look at her fully.

Listen to her? Play?

“Miss Matarazzo,” Lord Hinton interjected smoothly. “Lady Pembroke spoke all about your talent, but I believe she might have forgotten to tell me what it’s about. The pianoforte?” he gestured to the instrument in the room.

She glanced at him and then Nonna, and offered the man a polite smile.

“The violin, actually,” she corrected him. “But I don’t play it as much as I did when I was younger.”

“A violinist,” Lord Hinton exclaimed, clearly impressed. “That is quite a talent. Do you enjoy performing?”

“I adored it,” Ravenna complied, her tone measured. “Though I have not had much opportunity lately. It’s a beautiful instrument.”

Lord Hinton moved closer to her, and she tried to pretend not to notice Nonna walking away from them discreetly.

“My little sister is part of a group of young women who join together in recitals,” he told her. “I would be honoured to introduce the two of you, and to be there for your first recital.”

Ravenna tried to not look surprised — or annoyed — at how pandering he sounded speaking to her, and nodded simply.

“That could be lovely,” she agreed.

A recital. As if she was some performing animal.

They fell into quiet again, and she could see Rosetta talking very excitedly to Mr Philips, who was just as happy.

That was good.

A knock on the door made her turn back to it, and Nonna was already moving to speak to the butler, and looked absolutely surprised as she confirmed something, and walked down to her with her arm stretched out, and four men walked, each pair with a single big arrangement of flowers.

“Girls,” she called.

“Excuse me,” Ravenna exhaled, happy for the interruption.

She walked to Nonna, and looped her arm on Rosetta’s as Nonna turned to them, smiling, still looking surprised.

"These flowers have just arrived for you,” she announced. “They are from Lord and Mr Winchester."

The men bowed politely, handing them each a card.

"To the lovely Rosetta," her sister read aloud. “You belong amongst the most beautiful roses.”

She forced herself to smile and looked over at Ravenna.

“Che prevedibile e noioso, rose per Rosetta," her sister whispered. “Cosa manderanno dopo, piume di corvo per te?"

But she turned to the men and smiled.

“Thank you,” she told them. “Tell Lord and Mister Winchester they are lovely.”

The men bowed again and walked off, and Ravenna let her sister go as she walked to the flower. They were beautiful arrangements, with white, pink and yellow roses.

Maybe it was predictable, but it was cute.

. . .

“Che prevedibile e noioso, rose per Rosetta," How dull and predictable, roses for Rosetta.

“Cosa manderanno dopo, piume di corvo per te?" What are they going to send next, raven feathers for you?

…

“A Perfect Match” is a slow born Regency AU, and was posted on my Patreon in 2024 and is in its final arc. To have early access to 70 chapters now, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month for early access to everything I do and exclusive access to some works, and I promise you won’t regret it.

…

Next chapter: Chapter 10: Rosetta III (on Patreon) — Coming to Tumblr on the 26th of August

[welldonebeca]

A Perfect Match (9)

Ravenna III

Chapter Summary: Ravenna and Rosetta entertain visitors during calling hour. WC: 2.1k words Warnings: Regency AU. Fluff.

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Despite my (many) complaints, I must admit I am finding moments of genuine joy on this trip. Rosetta's happiness is contagious, and I find myself laughing more often with her than I imagined. She has a way of making even the most boring events bearable, Uncle. It will certainly make those endless social engagements much better for me. Once again, I am deeply grateful for your help in managing our estate while we're in England. Knowing you're overseeing everything gives me great peace of mind while I'm so far away. Your support has been invaluable for us, and I can't thank you enough for stepping in during our absence. I hope we return home soon, and you can have your well deserved rest. I miss you so very much in this place. Your advice and humour are sorely needed here, the English aren't nearly as interesting to sit and talk as you are. I look forward to receiving your letters now that we have settled with our grandparents, and to update you on everything we are seeing.

- - -

“Venna?” Rosetta called, knocking on her door.

Ravenna raised her hands, looking back, putting her quill aside.

“Vieni,” she called back.

The door opened and closed quietly with her sister, who immediately walked over to her desk. Ravenna signed up the paper quickly, adding an affectionate goodbye to Zio Alessandro.

Con tutto il mio amore, Ravenna Matarazzo.

“It’s calling hour soon,” her sister announced, very cheerful.

"E perché sei qui a tormentarmi invece di aspettare i tuoi pretendenti?” she hummed, setting her quill aside.

Rosetta didn’t answer, moving to her and taking the letter from her desk to read it.

“Forgive me, miss, I only speak English,” she taunted, her tone light and playful.

Ravenna rolled her eyes and sighed.

“What do you do up here, then?” she asked. “Instead of waiting for suitors in the calling room?”

Her sister was already dressed, with her hair up and looking pretty ready to receive anyone — or promenade around for said suitors.

“Without you?” she asked. “And be a one-woman show?”

Ravenna shook her head, pushing her hair behind her ears.

“I don’t have reasons to be down there,” she reminded her. “I don’t know anyone in this land that isn’t inside this house.”

“Of course you don’t,” Rosetta rushed to her, letter forgotten. “We’ve just arrived. They are coming to see Nonna and Nonno, and we just happen to be there, waiting for a formal introduction while we embroider.”

That made her pause and raise her eyebrows.

“And since when do you embroider?”

Rosetta laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, I’ve become quite the expert,” she said with a dramatic flair. “I’ve embroidered exactly one handkerchief, and it was terrible, and Nonno decided it is his now. But that’s not the point! The point is we need to be seen, Venna. We need to make connections, and you can’t do that hiding up here.”

She wanted to roll her eyes again.

Ravenna all the connections she needed already, why would she need to mingle with anyone?

“Besides,” Rosetta brushed her fingers down her hair, twirling a lock slowly. “If I’m to find a husband amongst these men, don’t you think it’s important for me to have your opinion?”

That made her look up at her little sister and sigh.

Oh, didn’t she know exactly how to convince her?

“Fine,” she conceded. “I’ll come down, but only to keep you company.”

Rosetta grinned.

“Oh, it’s all I ask,” she told her, moving quickly to her hair. “And I’ll be happy to do your hair as a gesture of gratitude.”

That made her squint. Oh, that was a two-way sword, Rosetta liked her hair very differently than Ravenna.

Still, she couldn’t fight her little sister as she pouted.

“Please?” she pleaded. “Per favore, mia Venna? Per tua sorella!”

Mia Venna! Oh, that was evil!

“Va bene,” she sighed. “Va bene. Do what you want.”

She tried not to feel tense as Rosetta did her hair.

Ravenna never had a season, she never even tried. After Mama had died, Papa needed all the help he could possibly get with Rosetta, her sister needed to be taught everything a lady should be, and Ravenna also had to learn her duties as the next Marchioness. She didn’t have time for men, or marriage.

She debuted, yes, in the sense that they considered her an adult, but she never put herself in the market. And then Papa had died and she had to command things, and then it was Rosetta’s time of debuting…

“Rosetta!” she winced, feeling her tug on the side of her head.

“Sorry, sorry,” Rosetta mumbled. “Just stay quiet.”

“What are you doing?” she scoffed.

“My rose,” she told her simply. “What else would I do.”

Ravenna sighed. Well, she would know. The first hairstyle Rosetta ever learned was to braid a rose on top of her hair — Ravenna’s hair, because she was always her doll — and she did so many variations of it, it was her favourite thing.

“How many braids are there?”

“Just eight,” she hummed. “Nothing much.”

Ravenna chuckled. Just eight.

“You know, Venna,” she hummed, moving something in circles, “I think you might enjoy this more than you expect. We could find some good allies.”

She raised her eyebrows, the lack of a mirror not allowing her to eye up her sister.

“Allies?” she parroted.

Rosetta hummed positively.

“Friends,” she said simply. “You can never have too many friends.”

She exhaled. Maybe.

Her sister pinned her hair up, at last, and patted her shoulder.

“Let me pick you a dress,” she told her, as if Ravenna wasn’t already dressed up.

But she was always her doll, wasn’t she? She could never say no to Rosetta.

So Ravenna let her dress her up and wasn’t surprised to find herself in the sweetest of blues and even rosy pink lips and cheeks, perfectly matching her sister in seafoam green – and, of course, the braided hair.

“Twins,” Rosetta winked at her.

She couldn't help but smile back as her sister linked their arms and led her down to the drawing room, her enthusiasm far too infectious. Rosetta was all smiles, while Ravenna tried not to look too awkward.

They stopped by the door, and she tried very hard to keep her expression straight when she caught sight of not one, not two, but four strange men in the room, and Nonna shot them a very amused look.

“Girls,” she greeted them, standing up and leaving her embroidering aside. “We are so glad you decided to join us.”

Ravenna curtsied politely and she felt her sister doing the same as their grandmother walked to them.

“Come,” she called them.

The men all stood up, bowing politely to them, and one of them stepped forward. He was quite tall, with light hair and dark eyes.

“Girls, this is Mr Philips,” Nonna introduced them. “Mr Philips, my beloved granddaughters, Miss Matarazzo and Miss Rosetta.”

They curtsied, and the man smiled politely, his eyes very focused on her sister.

"Mr Philips," Rosetta spoke cheerfully. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Rosetta, Miss Matarazzo," he responded with a slight bow.

Nonna then gestured to the next gentleman, a quite distinguished-looking a bit short, a bit older than the other three, and a man who looked quite a bit like him.

"And this is Lord Hinton,” she introduced the oldest, though not looking too certain. “And Mr Hinton.”

"Miss Matarazzo, Miss Rosetta," they greeted.

“We’re honoured to meet you, Lord Hinton,” Ravenna greeted them. “Mr Hinton.”

At last, Nonna showed them the last gentleman, who didn’t quite meet their eyes.

"And this is Mr Feilding,” she introduced him.

“It’s delightful to meet you two,” he affirmed.

They all moved back to their activity, and Ravenna tried not to look too obvious when she sat on the short couch with Rosetta and they picked up their embroidery projects.

Now, they had a system — they were sisters, of course they had a system. Ravenna couldn't come up with any designs from memory or imagination. On the other hand, Rosetta couldn’t embroider or stitch or sew, but she could draw perfectly. So, one designed whatever they would create, and the other embroidered them. It worked quite well.

Ravenna was just checking back in where she had paused her flowery piece when she heard Mr Philips clearing his throat and raised her eyes to find him approaching them.

“Miss Rosetta,” he greeted. “May I?”

Rosetta looked right at her, and Ravenna gave her a simple nod, focusing on the intricate roses in front of her as the man took a seat on the sofa across them.

“Of course, sir,” her sister greeted. “Good day.”

“Good day,” he greeted in a deep voice. “Lady Pembroke was just telling me how much of an appreciator of the arts and an artist you are. She spoke so very enthusiastically of you it made me the most eager to meet you.”

She tucked in her chin, trying to pretend she wasn’t listening to every single word they spoke.

“Oh, grandmama is too kind,” Rosetta left her fabric aside. “But I do enjoy painting as a hobby, and studying it in my free time.”

Ravenna glanced up, and his eyes were all sparkly.

“Miss Rosetta, your reputation precedes you,” he affirmed. “Tell me, what do you think of the works of Hans Holbein?”

Maybe her sister was able to hide her smile, but Ravenna couldn’t help but grin, hiding her face behind her embroidery project.

Rosetta adored Hans Holbein, and the way her eyes lit up made it clear.

“Holbein’s portraits are magnificent,” Rosetta exclaimed. “His ability to capture the subtleties of his subjects' expressions is unparalleled. Not to mention his skill with details!”

Mr Philips leaned forward slightly, clearly pleased with her response.

“I quite agree. His attention to detail and the lifelike quality of his portraits are extraordinary. There’s an exhibition of his works coming up at the gallery. I was wondering if you might be interested in attending?”

Before Rosetta could answer, Ravenna was startled by Nonna’s voice.

“Ravenna, my darling,” she called. “May I have you for a minute?”

She glanced at her.

What did she need her for?

“Of course,” she answered anyway, setting her project aside. “Excuse me, Mr Philips. Sister.”

She stood, crossing the large drawing room to get to her side, and caught Lord Hinton’s eyes right as she did.

“I was discussing with Lord Hinton how much of a musical fan you are,” she affirmed, looking up at him. “You know, I can’t wait to finally get to listen to you play.”

Ravenna stiffened a bit, turning to look at her fully.

Listen to her? Play?

“Miss Matarazzo,” Lord Hinton interjected smoothly. “Lady Pembroke spoke all about your talent, but I believe she might have forgotten to tell me what it’s about. The pianoforte?” he gestured to the instrument in the room.

She glanced at him and then Nonna, and offered the man a polite smile.

“The violin, actually,” she corrected him. “But I don’t play it as much as I did when I was younger.”

“A violinist,” Lord Hinton exclaimed, clearly impressed. “That is quite a talent. Do you enjoy performing?”

“I adored it,” Ravenna complied, her tone measured. “Though I have not had much opportunity lately. It’s a beautiful instrument.”

Lord Hinton moved closer to her, and she tried to pretend not to notice Nonna walking away from them discreetly.

“My little sister is part of a group of young women who join together in recitals,” he told her. “I would be honoured to introduce the two of you, and to be there for your first recital.”

Ravenna tried to not look surprised — or annoyed — at how pandering he sounded speaking to her, and nodded simply.

“That could be lovely,” she agreed.

A recital. As if she was some performing animal.

They fell into quiet again, and she could see Rosetta talking very excitedly to Mr Philips, who was just as happy.

That was good.

A knock on the door made her turn back to it, and Nonna was already moving to speak to the butler, and looked absolutely surprised as she confirmed something, and walked down to her with her arm stretched out, and four men walked, each pair with a single big arrangement of flowers.

“Girls,” she called.

“Excuse me,” Ravenna exhaled, happy for the interruption.

She walked to Nonna, and looped her arm on Rosetta’s as Nonna turned to them, smiling, still looking surprised.

"These flowers have just arrived for you,” she announced. “They are from Lord and Mr Winchester."

The men bowed politely, handing them each a card.

"To the lovely Rosetta," her sister read aloud. “You belong amongst the most beautiful roses.”

She forced herself to smile and looked over at Ravenna.

“Che prevedibile e noioso, rose per Rosetta," her sister whispered. “Cosa manderanno dopo, piume di corvo per te?"

But she turned to the men and smiled.

“Thank you,” she told them. “Tell Lord and Mister Winchester they are lovely.”

The men bowed again and walked off, and Ravenna let her sister go as she walked to the flower. They were beautiful arrangements, with white, pink and yellow roses.

Maybe it was predictable, but it was cute.

. . .

“Che prevedibile e noioso, rose per Rosetta," How dull and predictable, roses for Rosetta.

“Cosa manderanno dopo, piume di corvo per te?" What are they going to send next, raven feathers for you?

…

“A Perfect Match” is a slow born Regency AU, and was posted on my Patreon in 2024 and is in its final arc. To have early access to 70 chapters now, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month for early access to everything I do and exclusive access to some works, and I promise you won’t regret it.

…

Next chapter: Chapter 10: Rosetta III (on Patreon) — Coming to Tumblr on the 26th of August

[welldonebeca]

bloodbrothers (22)

WC: 6.3k words Warnings: Modern AU. Alcohol. Fluff. Comfort. Closure. Guys, don’t make blood pacts. Please. It is very dangerous, it's like mixing unprotected sex with the risk of stepping on a random nail sticking out from a random door in one single action. I cannot emphasise how horrible of an idea this is. These two are stupid teenagers.

Set in late October 2023

Read chapter 1 now Previous chapter: Chapter 21

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“All right, let’s see, let’s see!” Helaena urged, practically bouncing.

“Wait,” Jace dragged the word out, typing in the ridiculously long password the school had assigned him. “Wait, I haven’t even opened anything yet.”

This was it — his last exams. After this, all that was left was a few practical assessments, and then — done. School would officially be over.

In Winterfell, the school year started in the second week of January and wrapped up by the middle of November. December, apparently, was considered too cold for proper learning.

Or walking around.

Why November and January were considered safe when he’d had to add a fourth layer of clothes just last week to stop freezing his ass off? Jace had no idea.

But hey, that was their system.

He’d already packed up most of the things he knew he wouldn’t need any more — books, decorations he wanted to bring back, random gifts people kept giving him now that the year was ending, and pretty much all his warm-weather clothes. He’d kept out just enough for a few days, tucked into a backpack he planned to change from as soon as he boarded the jet home.

It was happening. It was really happening.

He was almost done.

Almost home.

After that? A whole month in New Valyria with everyone before the real fun started.

On the second of January, he and Dad would fly down to Driftmark and meet up with Helaena, Aemond, and Odette. Then, all of them would head over to Dragonstone to settle in and figure out their new routines.

Was school starting right away? Gods, no. The boring introductions and orientation stuff weren’t until the end of January, and actual classes wouldn’t kick off until February.

But Helaena needed time to adjust.

And… well, she’d asked if they could get there early. And Jace said yes without a second thought, of course. She probably just wanted to get out of King’s Landing as soon as possible, and honestly. He didn’t blame her.

So yeah, he’d be arriving a little earlier than strictly necessary — but it wasn’t like he minded. They’d all have time to settle in, and he didn’t mind spending his birthday there. It had been… what, five years? Six? Since he’d last celebrated with Dad, Uncle Joffrey, and his grandparents first.

It was going to be weird. Good weird, though.

“What is taking so long?” Helaena groaned over the phone. “I want to know if I’m a good teacher of biology or not.”

And gods, Jace tried to hold back. He really did.

He really, really did.

But he couldn’t help himself.

He looked up at his phone screen, eyebrows raising most suggestively.

Because… biology.

Helaena just blinked at him, frowning.

“What?” she asked, completely serious.

He waited. Just to be sure.

But nope — she kept staring, completely blank.

“I really don’t get it,” she insisted.

Jace snorted and shook his head.

“Never mind, it’s a stupid joke,” he decided, still amused anyway.

Because Helaena Targaryen was like a box of chocolates. She had a PhD-level brain when it came to some things — spiders especially; she could read those dry research papers like Jace read novels — but sometimes, in the rarest moments… she was hilariously clueless.

It was… an experience.

Finally, he opened his grades and navigated to the results page.

“Alright, this is it,” he told her. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready for, like, five days,” she rolled her eyes. “Just open the damn thing!”

And who was he to say no to Helaena?

Jace unlocked his new grades, and…

Well.

“So?” she asked.

“94% in Business Maths, 90% in Statistics, 97% in Domestic Accounting,” he listed. “81% in Economics…”

Against all his assumptions, Economics class was just theory. No numbers, no calculations. Theory!

Jace was good with numbers! He was good with language! Theories? No, not his thing.

“Yeah, yeah, jump to biology,” Helaena insisted.

He rolled his eyes, skipping History (89%) and Geography (90%) — which, apparently, he had to take at a basic level because they taught it differently here compared to Essos.

“Environmental Science… oh, come on!” he kicked the floor.

“What?” Helaena asked, leaning closer.

“75%,” he groaned. “I’m a fucking Velaryon!”

Their whole thing was environmental science!

“Biology, Jacaerys!” she snapped. “I spent a week teaching it to you!”

He rolled his eyes, looking for it. Yeah, maybe he wasn’t that good at biology either. But he got the human body fine, neither of his exes ever complained about it.

“Biology,” he read aloud, bracing himself. “80.5%.”

Point five.

Why.

“80.5%?” she asked, entirely too serious. “That was basic stuff. You could have got a 90%.”

Jace looked back at her.

“You read PhD thesis for fun,” he threw back, deadpanned. “I don’t think you have any authority on what counts as ‘basic.’”

Helaena’s mouth dropped open just a bit — not offended, just dramatically affronted, like she’d just been accused of something truly outrageous.

“That’s not true,” she protested. “I also read conference abstracts and postgrad dissertations!”

Jace groaned.

“Exactly my point,” he mumbled.

“You’re just mad because I’m right,” she sing-sung.

He rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m mad because I studied for hours with you and still got point five tacked onto my 80 like it’s some kind of pity grade,” he waved to his laptop. “That’s cruelty. That’s evil. That’s… academic bullying.”

Helaena snorted.

“You should have remembered the difference between meiosis and mitosis.”

“Oh my gods, nobody remembers that!” Jace cried.

“I do,” she protested.

“You don’t count!” he groaned. “You know what an Adelocosa is! Do you know what I thought Adelocosa was when you started talking about that endangered spider species? That thing in the back of your throat.”

Helaena tilted her head.

“I think you mean an adenoid,” she said. “And that would be your tonsils, which are not in the back of your throat.”

Jace stared at her, deadpanned.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re a nerd.”

She only beamed, entirely unbothered.

“And proud of it.”

He shook his head, and she started talking again — but then her phone went silent. Helaena frowned, leaning toward the screen.

Maybe he couldn’t hear her, but the way she rolled her eyes and moved her mouth was clue enough: she was groaning, clearly annoyed.

A second later, the sound came back, and Helaena gave him a small, apologetic smile.

“I have to go,” she said with a sigh. “Mother’s waiting for me.”

Jace deflated instantly.

“Oh, damn, your mother,” he groaned.

Helaena just laughed softly.

“I’ll text you when I’m free again,” she promised. “Think you can survive a celebration without me?”

He chuckled.

“I’ll try,” Jace said. “No promises it won’t be boring, though.”

Helaena grinned, gave him a wave, and ended the call.

Yeah. He should celebrate.

This was technically his chance — his grades were practically finished, and school was practically over.

Jace exhaled, sinking back into his seat and tapped his fingers against the wood of his desk.

He deserved a drink, right?

Maybe he could do something with Harwin. Go somewhere?

But, gods, no — he wouldn’t even be able to sneak one drink under Harwin’s watch. The man was basically a human security system.

And the girls were so fucking far away.

It was Friday, they were supposed to do fun things on Fridays

Jace groaned, standing up.

Nothing to do, then.

How fun.

He wandered over to the plastic boxes he'd brought his shoes in. Not like he needed more than… what, two pairs? Three, max. Plus the winter boots, which were pretty much everything he wore these days. He was five shoeboxes deep when he noticed one tucked all the way in the back of the wardrobe, pressed against the wall.

Forgotten.

Jace exhaled as he pulled it free.

Right. That one.

He shoved his laptop aside, set the box on the desk, and opened it.

There it was — the stuff he’d collected during his relationship with Cregan.

Film tickets, photo slips — so many Polaroids, because after they found that photo machine at the mall, he’d gone through a whole phase of printing everything.

Ticket stubs from that ice rink they’d tried (and failed) to have some fun in — Jace had spent most of the time falling flat on his ass.

A bottle cap from… that one, he had no idea. But it was pretty.

Yeah, maybe it was a little sappy to keep all that — but he was seventeen, so fuck it.

He sifted through the box, not feeling so attached to it at all. It was nice stuff, sure.

But kind of… useless?

Then his fingers paused on a little ziplock bag. Inside, something very specific.

A cherry stem. Well — the cherry stem. The one he’d used in that absolutely stupid attempt to seduce Cregan into kissing him. It was still tied, just the way Cregan had done it inside his own mouth.

Jace swallowed, his shoulders sagging as he stared down at it.

He couldn’t just throw this away, it wasn’t…

He couldn’t.

He ran his thumb lightly over the crinkled plastic, feeling the rough shape of the stem through it.

It was stupid. Organic. It would rot eventually, no matter what.

He couldn’t keep a cherry stem forever.

Still, Jace smirked a little to himself.

Gods, that had been one hell of a party.

It was messy and hot and so horny — he’d spent hours just kissing him. His mouth was swollen for two days after!

He couldn't just throw it away.

Jace turned his head when his phone buzzed on the desk, and he grabbed it to find a text from Cregan.

‘Celebrating or mourning?’

He snorted.

Wait, how did he know?

Jace let the stem down on the desk, stretching his legs as he took his phone from the charger.

‘Thought you graduated last year,’ he texted back.

The reply came quick, like Cregan had been waiting for it.

‘Too many flashbacks around the last week of October to forget.’

He snorted. Yeah, that made sense.

Another text jumped up.

‘So? Celebration or mourning?’

He glanced back at his laptop’s screen.

Well, it was a celebration.

‘Celebrating,’ Jace texted him back, at last.

Then he frowned to himself a moment.

‘Except Environmental Science. Got a 75%.’

Dad would be disappointed. Grandpa too. Luke, definitely.

Honestly, probably every single Velaryon relative he had. Environmental science was supposed to be their thing.

He rolled his eyes when Cregan’s next message popped up.

‘Passing grade is 70.’

Passing grade. He thought Jace was lamenting over the passing grade?

‘Velaryon grade would be at least 80%’

And just when he thought his friend might show a shred of empathy, another text came in.

‘Aren’t you glad Luke’s the heir and not you?’

Jace glared at the screen.

That was fucking evil of him.

Before Jace could fire back with a well-deserved fuck you, another text popped up.

‘Come over. We’re gonna drink to Arya not failing the year in the godswood.’

He perked up. Well, that sounded nice – and half like a peace treaty or something.

The godswood.

He’d definitely need to layer up — no way he wasn’t going to freeze his balls off standing around in an open clearing.

But they were celebrating. And really, where else was he going to go?

‘Be there soon.’

Cregan read his message and another one popped up right away.

‘Venmo me for the beer fund’

Jace snorted. Of course, they had a beer fund.

Well, guess he wasn’t driving, then.

He plugged his phone in to charge a bit more, checked his power bank, and got to work layering up: thermal shirt and pants, thick socks, gloves, winter pants, boots, and that heaven-sent jacket. Scarf. Beanie. The whole armour.

He Venmo’d Cregan with a roll of his eyes and ordered an app car before giving Vermax a quick pet.

“Don’t die and don’t kill Harwin,” he told him. “I’ll be back later.”

His cat just glared at him, grumpier by the day with the weather.

Jace grabbed his things, stuffed them into his fanny pack, pausing for a moment before taking the cherry stem too, and jogged down the stairs, breezing past Harwin, who was sprawled on the couch watching TV.

“Gonna go see the Starks,” he called out, heading for the door. “Be back later.”

Harwin glanced over, then stood up a little too quickly.

“Did you get your grades?”

“Yeah,” Jace nodded, reaching for the handle. “All good.”

Harwin narrowed his eyes.

“Lowest?”

Jace barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Gods, seriously?

“Seventy-five,” he said. “But I got an eighty in Bio, so my GPA’s fine.”

Honestly, he owed Helaena at least another batch of moth eggs for her help.

Jace glanced at his phone — the car was already pulling through the gates.

Harwin folded his arms, still watching him.

“Seventy-five in what?”

“Environmental Science,” Jace answered, shifting his weight impatiently. “It’s fine, Harwin. I passed everything.”

Harwin tilted his head, unconvinced.

“Thought you said a Velaryon’s lowest should be eighty.”

Jace groaned, bouncing his hand against the doorknob.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like killing myself over the painful, detailed planting of Weirwood trees that don’t even grow anywhere near where I’m gonna live after this year.”

Harwin snorted.

“Fair enough.”

He let a beat pass, then clapped Jace lightly on the shoulder as he walked past him.

“Don’t freeze your fingers and nose off out there,” he said. “I promised your mother I’d deliver you back whole.”

Jace rolled his eyes.

“I won’t,” he said. “Can I go now?”

“Curfew’s at two, don’t forget,” Harwin called over his shoulder as he headed toward the kitchen. “And call me if you need a ride — not letting some drunk kid practice their driving skills with you in the car.”

“Will do,” Jace called back. “Bye!”

He rushed out just as the car pulled up to the door, hopping in quickly.

The ride to Winterfell didn’t take long, and soon Jace was hunching deeper into his jacket as he crossed the grounds toward the godswood.

He slowed when he reached the open archway, the cold biting at his face — but it wasn’t just the weather that made him pause.

The feeling of the place hit him hard, stronger than anything he’d felt back in King’s Landing. It settled in his chest, heavy and real.

He could feel them watching — the old gods, their unseen eyes heavy on him. Eyes that saw everything, that knew everything.

Jace exhaled slowly, bracing himself.

Okay.

It wasn’t that he was unwelcome, exactly. It was more like... like a prince stepping into another king’s stronghold.

Or maybe into the home of a distant cousin — kin, but not quite family.

The Northern gods were as far from the Valyrian ones as ice was from fire. And yet, they were allies, he had learned. Most gods had the same ancient enemy — the Others, the Long Night — even if each faith called it something different. Nowadays, everyone knew they are all talking about the same thing.

So they had to know he respected them. He hoped they did.

He wondered, briefly, when the last time a Targaryen had stood in a place like this had been.

A soft rustle of branches caught his attention, and he turned, seeing Arra emerge from the path, bundled in a jacket, smiling up at him.

“There you are,” she said warmly. “Everyone’s by the heart tree.”

She pointed down to the path on the ground, an old trail that looked like it had been there long before even the castle.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, a bit confused.

Arra yawned and covered her lips with a hand.

“Gonna go have a nap,” she told him. “But you guys have fun.”

He gave a quick wave goodbye and breathed in breath, a bit jittery, stepping through it. His shoulders were as stiff as they could be he walked, but then — all at once — he caught the sound of people chatting ahead, their vooices familiar, like this was just any other hangout spot.

Gendry was leaning against the great white heart tree, a beer in hand, while Arya sprawled across his legs, grinning. Meera was practically the same with Bran, curled against his legs and wheelchair while he ran a hand through her curly hair.

“There he is!” Arya crowed, lifting her bottle in salute. “Cregan, get our ex-boyfriend a beer!”

Gendry snorted into his hand, trying to hide his laugh, while Jace felt his face go hot — but he still kept moving toward them.

“You've been saving that one for months, haven't you?”

She shrugged, grinning.

“Nearly two months,” she said. “But seriously, what the hell took you so long?”

Jace rolled his eyes and wandered over to Cregan, who gave his back a casual pat.

“Never been in the godswood before,” he reminded her. “You two skipped that part of the grand tour, remember?”

Arya snorted, and Cregan threw him a crooked smirk.

“You never showed me your temple either,” he teased, handing over the beer.

Jace shook his head, ready to find the beer as cold as snow, but it wasn’t. It was actually pretty warm.

Honestly, warm beer was only a thing in Winterfell. They never drank it cold – and it honestly didn’t surprise Jace at all.

“No need for all that,” Cregan said, nodding toward Jace’s neck. “We picked a spot near the hot springs for you.”

He pointed back, and Jace glanced over his shoulder — sure enough, a big pool of steaming water shimmered behind them.

No wonder the air felt normal against his skin.

“The temples for the Valyrian gods are built on volcanoes,” Jace reminded him dryly. “You’d think I was trying to kill you.”

He took off his scarf, waiting to see how it felt before doing so with his beanie and then his gloves, bundling them together as Arya snorted.

“Gods, you Valyrians are so extra,” she said, rolling her eyes — then paused. “Wait, you know Meera, right? Meera, Jacaerys. My ex, Cregan’s ex. Jace, Meera, Bran’s girlfriend.”

Meera chuckled, waving at him with her free hand.

“We know one another,” she said quickly.

They had met a few times, yeah. He knew her name, knew she dated Bran.

“I think we did… geography together?” Jace tried to remember.

Meera nodded, sipping from her bottle, and Jace could see she was just having some soda.

“Geography II,” she confirmed, grinning. “They actually let you graduate after that?”

He chuckled, opening his own bottle.

“Yeah, I just had to send in some extra stuff from home,” he said. “I was advanced there.”

It was a bit of a mixture of curriculums, but it was at least enough to get him out.

“Graduating, at last,” Arya announced dramatically, raising her bottle. “I thought it would never end.”

Jace sighed longly.

Oh, gods, yes. Those last few weeks felt like months compacted into days.

“You’re telling me,” he groaned, taking a sip of the warm beer.

“Don’t be show-offs,” Meera cut in, scowling to them. “Some of us still have a whole year to go.”

Jace gave her an apologetic look.

“If it helps, your last year’s not that bad when you’re in the same school you’ve always been,” he offered. “Just… don’t change anything.”

“Don’t move into a random relative’s home for the year,” Cregan joked.

Jace rolled his eyes.

“Don’t move into your donor’s home just to learn your lesson in just two months with him,” he mumbled, sipping his beer.

He caught the moment Bran, Meera, and Gendry all raised their eyebrows at once — like a puzzle piece had just snapped into place.

Wait, they didn’t know?

“Hold on, so that’s how you’re related?” Arya exclaimed, sitting up. “I’ve been trying to figure that out the whole year!”

Jace blinked.

Oh, right. He’d never told her!

“Yeah,” he confirmed, shrugging. “I mean… you know…”

Everyone already knew, right? His mother’s face had been all over the world when he was born! People collected shit of her – Realm’s Delight and all that.

“I didn’t know it was Harwin!” Arya defended herself, still shocked. “You two look nothing alike.”

Jace blinked, his mouth falling open.

They looked nothing alike?!

“Arya, you need a time machine,” Cregan quipped, turning to her, very serious. “Take a picture of Jace’s face right now, board it, go back to last year, and tell that to him before he moves North.”

That made him roll his eyes.

Oh, come on.

“Told you,” Cregan shrugged simply. 

Jace scoffed and took another swig of his beer.

Yeah, yeah. He knew. He was his mother’s little copy, carbon-printed and pressed, and didn’t look like Harwin at all. The whole idea of moving North to live with him was stupid.

Jace knew all that already, he didn’t need another reminder.

“Neither of you would have even met me if I’d stayed there, don’t forget,” Jace pointed between Arya and Cregan. “You should be grateful.”

Arya just half-smirked and poked Gendry when he rolled his eyes.

Gendry stuck his tongue out at her, and Jace looked away just in time to avoid catching them making out for more than two seconds — though from the uncomfortable shift of the others, he wasn’t the only one dodging that sight and the sound.

“So,” Bran cleared his throat, clearly rescuing them all. “You got any plans after this?”

Jace glanced back at him, grateful for the change of subject.

“After graduation?” he asked, twisting the bottle in his hand.

Bran nodded, Meera shifting slightly where she leaned against him.

“Gonna head back to Dragonstone in January,” Jace said. “Go to college there.”

“He’s gonna live in the castle,” Cregan added casually.

Meera’s eyes widened.

“The castle?” she asked. “I thought it was closed.”

“It’s my mum’s,” Jace shrugged. “And it’s close to college.”

Dragonstone belonged to the Targaryens. He was a Targaryen. Simple as that.

He tipped back his bottle to get the last sip of beer before setting it down.

“You literally live in Winterfell,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “This place is older than dirt. I don’t know why you're surprised.”

There was a pause, and then Jace could see as they realised he was right.

Fair.

“Fair,” Meera agreed. “What are you gonna do?”

“Business administration with economics,” he said. “And I want to get an MBA in Pentos. My sisters were born there.”

“Sounds cool,” Bran nodded.

“Pretty diverse,” Meera agreed.

Silence settled again. The group collectively exchanged glances — mostly at Arya and Gendry, who still hadn’t broken apart.

No one said anything.

Jace glanced at Cregan, who was now poking the dirt with a twig like it would rescue him or something, while Bran drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

Seriously?

“Arya, will you please stop reminding me that I’m single?” Jace requested, deadpan. 

Arya finally pulled back, snorting as she gave Gendry a playful slap on the arm.

“Alright, alright,” she huffed, grinning. “Fine.”

She sat up beside him, elbowing Gendry with a mischievous glint in her eye, and he just draped an arm over her shoulder.

“Want me to find you a cousin or something?” Arya teased. “Though I don’t think you’re quite Sansa’s type. Bit too young.”

Jace let out a dry laugh.

“I’m taking a break from Starks,” he said. “Two in a row was plenty. But thanks for the generous offer.”

Maybe he should look for someone less wild if he ever got into another relationship.

It would probably save him some blood pressure spike-ups and tears.

Things kept going after that, just chatting and laughing and stupid jokes. Arya talked about how she was planning to travel around for the next year or so before deciding what to do, and how Gendry was in the process of convincing his father to let him follow her without cutting off his financial support. 

Actually, what did Gendry even do in the North? Jace was pretty sure he had an accent from King’s Landing. 

Jace had just cracked open his third — and final — beer when those two finally gave up pretending they weren’t dying to get away from them to make out and disappeared together, hopefully not in the direction Jace would need to take to get back home later.

He was halfway through that bottle when Bran and Meera found some excuse to slip away too. One look at the way they were smiling at each other, and Jace knew exactly what they were off to do.

All that left just him and Cregan, sitting there in the godswood, surrounded by the quiet hum of hot springs and old trees.

“You got water?” Jace asked, setting the half-finished bottle down.

He hadn’t eaten that much in the last few hours and the buzz was starting to get a little bit too buzzy. It was enough for him.

“Yeah,” Cregan said, glancing back at the spot where they’d left the beers before pulling out a small water bottle. “Congratulations on graduating, by the way. Well, basically graduating.”

Jace smirked, taking a few gulps of water.

“Thanks,” he exhaled. “I’m just glad it’s almost over.”

“You worked hard for it,” Cregan said. “Your family coming up for graduation?”

He nodded, chuckling a little bit.

“Everyone,” he said. “The hotel’s already booked, and I sent Mum links for what actual winter clothes look like.”

Cregan snorted.

“Oh, she’ll freeze up,” he laughed.

Jace laughed too. Yeah, he was pretty sure she still hadn’t fully grasped how cold it really felt — but once she got here, she’d figure it out. At least the boys and the twins would be bundled up like marshmallows, he was certain.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, just the soft bubbling of the springs filling the silence. Then a thought crossed Jace’s mind.

“Is Arra alright?” he asked. “She was leaving when I arrived.”

Cregan chuckled, nodding quickly as he smirked.

“She’s fine. She just wanted to escape,” he said.

Jace raised an eyebrow.

“Escape?”

“Sansa offered to watch Rickon when Arya asked if we wanted to hang out,” Cregan explained. “So we said yes. She grabbed him and some bags of milk from the fridge, and declared him hers until, like… ten pm or something.”

Jace nodded slowly. That actually sounded really nice. Sure, Cregan and Arra had a baby now, but they still deserved little breaks.

“And Arra really wanted to just stay in the house,” Cregan went on, “Since it’s the first time she’d have the place to herself since moving in. But she didn’t want to look rude, so she stuck around for a bit, pretended she was tired… and then bolted.”

He rested back on the tree, smiling a little, and Jace chuckled.

“Very fair,” he told Cregan. “She absolutely deserves it.”

He meant that. He knew too well what it felt like to live in a house full of people and still crave a bit of silence now and then.

Cregan took in a slow, deep breath before glancing at him, looking anxious.

“We… kissed,” he said, voice quiet.

Jace straightened up, surprised.

“Oh,” he mumbled.

Cregan looked at him, a bit of anxiety written on his face.

“You’re back together?” Jace asked carefully.

There was a pause, like Cregan was still testing the shape of the answer.

“Not exactly,” he said finally. “We’re just… figuring things out. Seeing if it could work again. Or if it can’t.”

Jace nodded, letting that sit between them for a moment.

“That’s fair,” he mumbled. “It’s a serious thing what you two have. Kids are forever.”

Cregan glanced at him, as if trying to read him, and Jace just let him.

He wasn’t angry or upset. They’d broken up months ago, they were friends.

If being with Arra was what Cregan wanted, then he should be with her.

“I like her,” Cregan said quietly. “I love her.”

Jace nodded, his fingers toying with the water bottle in his hand, the plastic creaking under his fingers.

“That’s good.”

“But…” he continued, and paused, groaning. “I just…”

He groaned softly, shifting his jaw as if the words were stuck in there.

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

Jace felt the weight of it settle between them.

Cregan’s hesitation wasn’t lost on him, nor was the rawness in his voice, as Jace watched him, trying to figure what to say.

“You won’t lose me,” Jace said softly, trying to sound comforting. “You know that. Nothing’s changing between us.”

Cregan’s gaze didn’t leave him, the vulnerability there in his eyes harder to miss than ever.

“This isn’t a choice between us, Cregan,” Jace smiled slightly, his voice warm. “We’re friends. You’re my friend. That doesn’t change because of whoever you’re dating or whoever I’m dating.”

Cregan’s eyes softened, looking at him like some dog that had been kicked out of a moving truck.

“You know that’s not how life works,” he mumbled. “Time passes. People forget. Even the strongest bonds fade.”

Jace looked at him, quiet.

There were no words for that — nothing simple, nothing easy.

Jace shifted on his spot, squirming, still fidgeting with the crinkled water bottle in his hands. The silence between them stretched long and quiet before he finally spoke.

“You know…” he began slowly, words forming as he thought them. “When wars ended, and soldiers had to part ways… they used to make pacts. Swore brotherhood.”

Northern history, and all.

Cregan let out a faint, almost amused sound.

“Blood pacts,” he said, like it was something he’d half-forgotten.

Then he paused — sat up a little straighter, eyes locking on Jace’s with something deeper behind them.

“Blood brothers.”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”

It was…

Something.

But it made sense, right?

“Right in front of a heart tree,” Cregan murmured, glancing upward.

Jace followed his gaze, eyes landing on the carved red eyes of the old Weirwood, watching them in silent judgment or silent witness — he wasn’t sure which.

Cregan gave a small snort.

“Not like I carry a dagger around,” he said with a soft laugh. “Kind of ruins the mood, not having anything sharp on hand.”

Then he paused, something clicking in his expression.

“You've ever been down in the crypts?” he asked, turning to Jace with a glint in his eye.

Jacaerys blinked.

Oh?

“No,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “Why would I?”

But Cregan was already gathering the empty beer bottles — wait, had they finished all those? — and stuffing them into a bag before grabbing Jace’s wrist and pulling him along.

He discarded the bottles on the first bin he found, and then practically dragged Jace through another gate and steps, and Jace stopped by the metal ramp, pausing as he took in the large ironwood door.

“Cregan?” Jace mumbled.

He stood a step back to the metal ramp, resting a hand on its handles.

Cregan looked at him, way too excited to realise Jace wasn’t.

“We’ve got artefacts down there,” he said. “Our family’s Valyrian steel sword, old spears, dragonglass daggers — stuff from before your people were even kings.”

Jace blinked.

Dragonglass?

“I’m sure there’s something in here,” Cregan said as he pushed the door open like it was nothing.

But for Jace, the weight on his shoulders doubled.

The godswood had made him feel like a guest — watched, maybe, but not unwelcome.

This felt different.

If he stepped into the crypts, he wouldn’t be a visitor any more.

He’d be an intruder. An outsider crossing into something sacred that wasn’t meant for him.

“Will you come?”

Jace shook his head.

“I’ll wait for you here.”

Cregan looked at him for a moment, analysing his face. He didn’t seem confused, just understanding.

“Okay.”

He stepped through the door and into the dark naturally, leaving it open behind him. A faint flicker of light danced from somewhere deep inside, but Jace turned his eyes away.

Even looking inside felt wrong.

No, that wasn’t a welcoming place for a Targaryen.

He doubted it ever welcomed anyone who wasn’t a Stark.

Jace waited outside, listening to the echo of Cregan’s footsteps fading into the crypt’s stillness.

The air was colder here now that they were away from the hot springs. He slipped his hands into his pocket, curling around himself to keep warm — and his fingers brushed something small.

The cherry stem.

He pulled it out, staring at it for a moment.

He didn’t even realise Cregan had come back until he was in front of him, holding something, and Jace put the stem into his pocket again, straightening up.

“Look,” he said, offering something in his outstretched hand.

Jacaerys focused on it.

Obsidian.

Dragonglass.

He froze for a moment, not blinking away from it as the dark shard shone on Cregan’s palm, catching light, and looked up at him, hesitant.

Did Cregan know what he was holding? Really know? Not just the price of it — the meaning of it. It was Dragonglass.

He remembered the day the priest showed it to him, to his sisters, to Luke, when his mother and Kepa married. How Kepa explained its sacredness: sharper than steel, pure and blessed, gifted by the gods through dragons. Unlike Valyrian steel, dragonglass was part of ceremony. Of legacy.

This piece wasn’t large — just small enough to sit neatly in the cradle of a palm, big enough to grip between two fingers — but it felt immense.

“It was from a spear,” Cregan said quietly. “Figured they wouldn’t miss a shard.”

Jace swallowed, eyes still locked on the obsidian in his hand.

There was a legend — of how dragonglass helped end the Long Night. Of ancient weapons wielded by heroes whose names blurred with myth. No one really knew if the artefacts the Starks kept were authentic. There were studies, sure. Debate. The shard could’ve come from anywhere.

But just being there, in front of a Stark, in front of the crypts and with the godswood behind him... well, Jace would just rather believe it was exactly what it called itself.

Cregan tilted his head, frowning a bit.

“Should we, uh… wash it? Or, I don’t know. Fire, rubbing alcohol?”

That caught him off guard.

“What? No,” Jace said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s…”

His brain stalled, searching for the word in Westerosi. Gods, why now?

“It kills bacteria,” he finally managed. “It’s clean. Pure.”

Cregan looked up at him, surprised at first, then paused.

“You… you really wanna do this?” he asked, searching his face. “You’re sure?”

Jace met his eyes, steady. There was something tense in Cregan now — something uncertain, like he was bracing for his change of mind.

“I’m sure,” Jace said softly.

Cregan’s brows knit together — not with hesitation, but something quieter.

“Yeah,” he murmured after a moment. “Yeah, I do.”

Jace gave a small nod, and that was enough.

Cregan shifted the shard in his hand, turning it so the edge caught the light.

“So… uh, do we say something? Is there a—”

“Not here,” Jace cut in gently, already glancing toward the godswood. “In front of the tree.”

Kepa always said the gods should witness all real promises.

It meant the gods would hold it for them — and hold them to it.

They walked back to the godswood in silence, standing by the springs and stopping in front of the Weirdwood tree, and Jace could not help himself from rubbing his fingers over the stem in his pocket,

Cregan glanced over — and stopped in his tracks.

“Wait,” he said, turning fully to him. “You kept it?”

Jace gave a small smile, almost sheepish.

“I’m packing things up,” he said simply. “Found it in a box.”

They both stared at it — the little plastic thing — before Jace lifted his gaze to the weirwood tree.

“I didn’t know what to do with it,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on the red-carved face watching them. “But… I think I do now.”

He looked back at Cregan, who nodded without saying a word.

With care, Jace opened the plastic, took the cherry stem in his fingers, and knelt. He pressed it into the dirt at the base of the tree, burying it gently with his hand. When he stood, he wiped his palm on his shirt.

There it went.

They stood in silence, the tree looming tall behind them, steam from the hot springs curling faintly through the air. Then, Cregan spoke.

“We will forever hold each other dear in our hearts,” he said, voice steady. “Never betray each other’s trust. And we will remain friends until our last day.”

Jace turned to him. Cregan was solemn, waiting.

He nodded.

“We will forever hold each other dear in our hearts. Never betray each other’s trust. And we will remain friends until our last day.”

They stepped closer to the heart tree, the air around them quiet, thick with steam and memory. Cregan moved first, taking the shard of dragonglass in hand. Jace watched silently as he dragged it across his palm, the edge slicing clean. His blood welled in the cut, vivid and real. Without a word, Cregan passed the shard to him. Jace took it, the obsidian strangely warm in his fingers. He braced himself, then mirrored the motion across his own hand. The sting was sharp and immediate, but he didn’t stop, didn’t flinch.

“We will forever hold each other dear in our hearts,” he repeated, this time in High Valyrian. “Never betray each other’s trust. And we will remain friends until our last day.”

Their hands met, gripping tightly, blood mixing in their joined palms. It stung a little, but Jace didn’t let go.

He looked down, watching as a single drop of blood slipped from their clasped hands and struck the earth below, swallowed by the roots of the Weirwood tree.

Bound by the gods.

Blood brothers.

He couldn’t say who moved first — who decided, who followed. But they kissed.

It wasn’t a kiss of love, or longing, or a rekindling of anything.

It was something quieter. Final. A seal to the promise, and a goodbye.

They had begun with that cherry stem and a kiss. And now, they ended the same way.

. . .

“Bloodbrothers” is a modern lovers to friends AU, and is fully posted on my Patreon. To read it all now consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month for early access to everything I do and exclusive access to some works, and I promise you won’t regret it.

…

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​ @amythyststorm33​​ @shaelyn102​​ @yknott81​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​ @kgbrenner​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @magpiegirl80​ @mogaruke​ @shadowhunter7​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​ @deemoriarty​​ @05spn18​​ @malindacath​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​ @widowsfics​​ @frozenhuntress67​​ @averyrogers83​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​ @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

Next Chapter: Epilogue (on Patreon now) (Coming to Tumblr on 21st of August.)

. . .

Jace/Helaena shipper? Maybe you'll like to read the rest of their arc in this universe!

dragonmound

For his birthday, Jacaerys gets a girlfriend, a foursome and a somewhat less-worse relationship with his half-uncle. — (Set in January 2024)

Productive (on Patreon now) — Coming to Tumblr/AO3 on the 28th of August

Jace's campaign with Calvin Klein inspires Helaena to buy a curious skirt. It's a domino effect, really. (How exactly the twins were conceived.) — (Set in December 2024, about a month-ish before "rūhossa, muña, kepa")

rūhossa, muña, kepa

Helaena has a dream about two kids. Her kids. “Jace, I need you to buy me a pregnancy test.” — (Set in January 2025)

the wedding of the century (on Patreon now) — Coming to Tumblr/AO3 on October 2025

On the 15th of February of 2025, Jacaerys and Helaena get married, and the two sides of the Targaryen family try to come together peacefully to celebrate the occasion. Nothing like a wedding to drag everyone back into civility and out of a few messes they got themselves into.

[welldonebeca]

A Perfect Match (8)

Sam II

Summary: After their walk on the gardens, Sam and Dean visit Castiel and the little Novaks. WC: 1.3k words Warnings: Regency AU. Fluff.

Masterlist

Read Chapter 1 Previous chapter: Chapter 7

Miss Matarazzo looked very annoyed when she got her sister and the two stomped away from Sam and Dean, and he couldn’t help but frown at his brother, his question taking him off guard.

“You were the one with her, and you’re asking me about her name?”

Dean rolled his eyes in response, but Sam's attention quickly drifted back to where the Matarazzo sisters had gone. He caught Miss Rosetta glancing back at him, giggling at something, and his heart skipped a beat.

She was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life, anywhere he had ever gone. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, accentuating her pink, round cheeks and light brown eyes. And her smile — oh, her smile. It was so easy, so bright and beautiful.

She practically floated on her steps, almost angelic in her being.

Sam couldn’t even speak in her presence when she was on his arm, pathetically speechless.

“You liked her, Sammy?” his brother asked suddenly.

He turned to look at him quickly, shocked.

“Dean, I barely know her.”

His brother didn’t even look surprised.

“It’s the season,” he told him simply. “You need a wife. If you like her...”

Sam shook his head. He was just back from Oxford, he had just broken his engagement! — well… had it broken.

“We can work on your next impression,” he slapped his arm. “We’re sending them flowers.”

He rolled his eyes, but before he could even speak, Dean was already walking.

“Wait, did you say we are sending them flowers?” he rushed to follow him. “Collectively?”

His brother shrugged, adjusting his sleeves mindlessly — clearly trying to look nonchalant.

Dean didn’t want to get married anytime soon, he was always clear about that. What was this we all of a sudden?

“Her sister is quite interesting,” he said simply. “There’s nothing wrong with seeking to find out more.”

His frown deepened.

“You’re going to court her?” he asked.

Dean? Courting someone.

But his brother waved his worry off.

“Oh, don’t be so serious,” he scoffed. “I’m just going to get to know her. I’m sure Miss Matarazzo will enjoy some good conversations and walks.”

Sam knew his older brother. Dean was a rake, too happy to just enjoy women from between their legs and four walls, and not a place beyond.

He’d never seen him interested in a woman. The idea of Dean courting someone was almost laughable.

They walked silently, mindlessly — rather, Dean walked and Sam followed him. But they never made it back to the Matarazzo sisters, they were too busy talking to Lord Shurley, far too entertaining.

“Oh, that reminds me,” his brother spoke suddenly. “Castiel is coming over to lunch, Jack is eager to see you.”

Sam lit up.

Castiel was an old friend of theirs, Dean’s closest friend. He was a widower, his wife had passed when Claire, their daughter was still young, and he took his brother’s son to raise when Jack’s parents died — and he was truly his father.

Sam adored Jack, he was the sweetest child in the world. Being so far away in Oxford for so long, he always expected him to forget him, but Jack insistently remembered him every time — he answered his letters, mailed him gifts he himself affirmed he had chosen, and thanked him for his gifts whenever Sam sent them. Castiel always spoke of how much of a shame it was that Sam hadn’t been chosen as his godfather when he was christened, but they had a legal agreement he would take him in if anything happened to their family.

“It’ll be good to see him,” he exhaled. “I brought a few gifts and books for him and Claire.”

Dean glanced at him, a small smile at his lips.

“I’m sure they’ll love it,” he affirmed. “Those two always love whatever you bring them, it’s like you have some supernatural power of always finding them the right gift.”

He smiled to himself, not denying it.

Well, he did pay close attention to the gifts he picked.

They rode back home in silence, and Sam busied himself with wrapping the gifts he’d brought over for the children. Illustrated books, books for watercolours… he had especially picked some books for Claire, written by a Lady from London — Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice, which were quite popular with women recently.

Of course, he didn’t forget to bring toys for the both of them as well, with some ribbons for Claire and fabrics for both, in the academic style that never seemed to reach London. He had just finished writing down their names when he caught sight of their carriage from his window.

He carried them down in his arms and was halfway down the staircase when the front doors swung open, and the lively sound of children’s laughter filled the air.

Jack and Claire burst into the foyer, full of joy and anticipation, and without hesitation, they made a beeline for the living room.

“Uncle Dean, uncle Dean!” Claire called.

Jack followed closely behind her, his little legs pumping furiously, blond curls bouncing like a duckling trailing after its mother.

They missed him entirely.

Castiel shook his head as he took off his hat, smiling at their antics, and Sam rushed his steps down, catching his old friend’s attention.

“Sam,” he exclaimed. “Let me help you.”

“It's good to see you,” Sam exhaled, shifting some of the parcels into Castiel's arms. “How have you been?”

“As well as can be expected,” Castiel nodded simply. “And you? It’s been too long.”

He nodded, a breathing out, smiling a little.

“I’m back now,” he said simply. “Permanently, I think.”

He raised his arms a bit.

“And I have gifts,” he announced to them.

They walked to the living room together, and Claire was already on Dean’s shoulders, and his brother was completely focused on playing with her.

She was quite taller now, the last time Sam had seen her, she had to be a full hand shorter. But she was growing up, after all. Claire was already ten.

“Look who I found,” Castiel announced into the room, his usual dead-panned tone a bit happier, just as they set the presents down.

The children turned in their direction, and Jack fully squealed.

“Uncle Sammy!”

He ran to him so fast he almost didn’t catch him on the floor, but picked him up right away, getting a big squeeze in return.

Oh, Jack was a lovely child. Delightful, so happy and so sweet.

Sometimes, Sam wished he was his kid instead. No wonder Castiel had been so quick and eager to take him when he was orphaned, he didn’t even let Lord Shurley ask any of his brothers – and his friend was a wonderful parent, of course. Jack was a lucky boy.

He bounced him, smiling, kissing his chubby cheeks.

“You are back!” Jack celebrated.

Sam moved a hand to his hair, pushing it back and away from his face.

“I am back.” he told him. “And I don’t plan to leave again anytime soon, you can see me anytime you want.”

Jack clapped, happy.

“And,” Sam added quickly. “I got gifts.”

That seemed to get Claire’s attention, because she rushed to get off of Dean’s back and ran to Sam quickly.

“Uncle Sammy!”

He chuckled, kneeling with Jack to welcome and hug her too, hugging her close as well.

“Come on,” he urged them. “Let’s see them!”

…

“A Perfect Match” is a slow burn Regency AU, and was posted on my Patreon in 2024 and is in its final arc. To have early access to 68 chapters now, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month for early access to everything I do and exclusive access to some works, and I promise you won’t regret it.

…

Next chapter: Chapter 9: Ravenna III

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[welldonebeca]

Happier Than Ever - Epilogue (2/5)

Chapter summary: The Hadleys try to adapt to life in the Rebel Quarters. Luna tells her mother the truth about her marriage. The Rebellion starts asking for favours. WC: 8.6k words Warnings: Tension. Canon divergence.

Previous chapter: Epilogue (Part 1/5)

First chapter: Year 0 (Part ½)

masterlist

They were settled into what Lyme called a ‘safe house’.

For starters, it wasn’t a house. It was an old training centre, crowded and cold, and they were placed among strangers. The soldiers had been kind enough to clear a row of five bunk beds for them — Juni could sleep in her car seat, and Dash, predictably, wasn't sleep alone, so it was fine.

And it was a small, nice enough gesture, but it didn't change the fact that they were surrounded by people who weren’t exactly welcoming.

They lasted less than twenty-four hours around other people before they had to be moved.

Luna didn’t know the people around her, but they certainly knew her. They knew her name, they knew the name of her children's father, and they could see him reflected in every single one of her boys. And they made it painfully clear.

The whispers were relentless. The stares, sharp and unforgiving. People said insults under their breath, some bolder than others. More than once, someone ‘accidentally’ bumped into one of the children and caused a little accident, their apologies insincere and their intentions unmistakable when they spoke up. The hostility was suffocating.

By morning, they were transferred.

The new quarters were quieter, seemingly reserved for officials. Lyme had arranged bunk beds inside, along with the few belongings they had. It wasn’t much, but at least they were away from the others.

Her first delivery of medicine arrived that same morning when she was trying to help the younger boys settle to sleep a bit more.

They had more privacy now, and that was good. But with it came something else — constant surveillance.

Soldiers came and went at random times, delivering updates that were rarely useful. Most of the information was irrelevant, forgotten before the next one even arrived. Luna was half-convinced that they weren’t there to inform her of anything important but rather to observe — to walk in, look around, and take mental notes of her every move.

It was absurd, there was nowhere she could go without at least two pairs of watchful eyes on her.

Two guards were always stationed at the door the whole time, unmoving. The only two windows in their quarters faced a watchtower, so beyond never being alone, they were also watched from every angle.

Even the tiny balcony — so small it barely fit three adults — was nothing, the moment she stepped outside, she was in full view of the tower.

So much vigilance. For what? A group of children, a severely injured and underweight 33-year-old woman, and their 53-year-old grandmother.

What did they think they would do? Start a revolt?

The soldiers controlled everything — food, supplies, even her medication. They brought it all to them at a scheduled time and determined what she received and when.

So Luna rationed.

To Doctor Sara’s credit, the medicine came exactly as promised: three tablets a day, to be taken every eight hours, to keep the pain manageable. But while Luna was in pain, she wasn’t in enough pain to be stupid. The earlier injection dulled the worst of it, allowing her to move without wanting to scream, to be touched without her body recoiling in agony.

But medicine was finite.

What if one of the children needed it? What if something happened to Mum? If resources ever ran short, and it came down to choosing between a soldier and her… well, she had no illusions about where the priority would lie.

So she adjusted.

The first day, she took two tablets — spread over twelve hours — just enough to keep herself functional. The next day, she halved her doses, taking only a fraction every twelve hours. It kept the pain at bay, at least to a bearable level, and the rest? She quietly tucked away with her things, hidden for emergencies.

Lyme was kind enough to let them keep a few things.

Unsurprisingly, most of the food taken from her house never made it to Luna and the boys. If she had to guess, it had been absorbed into the rebel supplies. But one box did reach them — containing a few precious items. Some boxed coconut water, and a few jars of sweets, jams, and treats from their cook.

Luna was smart enough to keep them all hidden, of course, not even the boys knew where they were or when she would give them to them.

The food in the quarters was…

It wasn’t terrible, but it was limited. Each portion was labelled with their names — most likely calculated down to the calories and nutrients for their ages and sizes. Luna received more than Mum, probably because she was still Juni’s only source of food and Dash was breastfeeding once or twice a day.

The boys hated it.

At first, Sweetie and Blue outright refused to eat, while Hunter complained endlessly. But three or four days in, reality set in. If they didn’t eat what was given, there would be nothing else, and Luna wasn’t about to waste their few indulgences on complaints.

She stretched what little extra they had — giving them coconut water in small portions, knowing once a container was opened, it had to be finished. It was barely half a glass for each boy. At night, she handed out a fruit — those were just enough to last one week.

Somehow, it was the longest and shortest week of her life. Everything blurred together into a haze of routine, medicine, and pain — dull but constant, a reminder of how much her body was still recovering and so very slow.

Mum helped — a lot.

Lex, Blue, and Dash were slowly getting used to her, but it was still an adjustment. To them, she was a stranger. She looked like one too. Luna had never resembled Mum in any way. Maybe if she’d had brown hair or brown eyes, the boys would have found something familiar, something comforting in their grandmother’s presence. But she didn’t. And they were too little to remember her, too set in their ways to accept change without resistance — especially Blue.

A small part of her wondered if they thought about Cato when they looked at Mum. Who else had hair that light? Eyes that blue?

Luna had heard the comparisons before. She knew what people saw when they looked at them.

Even here, it hadn’t taken long for someone to make a comment. One of the soldiers had called Mum her ‘mother-in-law’, assuming she was Cato’s mother instead of hers. Mum had to correct them, to insist Luna was her daughter.

But she knew the truth. She looked more like Cato’s mother than her own, and no matter how much she denied it, the world had already decided what it wanted to see from the moment their family stepped into that centre.

Luna patted Dash’s tiny back gently, his warm little body nestled against her as he clung to her immobilised arm, hand curled right around hers, holding on tightly even as he dozed.

His eyelids fluttered, drooping for a moment — only for his eyes to snap open again, determined to stay awake.

Luna chuckled softly.

Stubborn little boy.

“Go to sleep,” she whispered, rubbing his palm.

Dash simply grinned up at her, a sleepy giggle escaping his lips. Luna shook her head, smiling despite herself.

The other kids were fast asleep — only Dash remained awake, nestled in her arms.

He was doing better. It was good. He deserved to be doing better.

Mum and the boys had taken over many of the little things she usually did — playing, helping with meals, tidying up. Prince had become an expert at brushing Blue and Dash’s teeth, standing watch as Lex managed his own. And Mum… well, no one would ever guess her age by the way she threw herself into play, lifting and tossing the boys as if her bones were made of iron.

Luna tried to rest as best she could, to heal and recover, and leave this all behind.

No one had said how long they would have to stay in that place, but it felt like goddamn forever now.

Luna breathed quietly, waiting for Dash to fally asleep fully before settling him onto her bed and she tucked him in, watching for a moment to make sure he didn’t wake up.

“Here,” Mum spoke softly, giving her a glass of water.

Luna offered a tired smile, adjusting her shirt back into place. Lyme had sent her some clothes — two sets of oversized pyjama pants that barely reached her ankles but had to be pined around her waist with hair ties and pins. Probably stolen from someone who hadn’t made it. But she couldn’t bring herself to care.

They felt better than the thin slips the Capitol had forced on her. Less exposed. More hers.

She emptied the glass and passed it back, then stood up — slowly, carefully — before making her way around the room to check on the boys.

The older ones had claimed the top bunks, with Archie practically glowing when he was included in their ranks. The younger boys were on the lower ones, along with Luna herself. Mum had taken the one above hers.

A few days ago, one of the soldiers had mentioned education — some kind of schooling for the boys, books that would be provided because they couldn’t attend anything.

Luna wasn’t entertaining the illusion that it would be anything different from the Capitol’s methods. They weren’t trying to teach, they were trying to indoctrinate. But it wasn’t like she could refuse the books, and the boys were already getting antsy from so many days locked in this place.

“Did you take your medicine?” Mum asked, moving back to help her.

“Before I lay down,” she told her, her voice still frail. “It’ll help me sleep.”

Her voice was still weak. It was coming back slowly, but she couldn’t speak up much louder than a mumble.

Mum nodded, her fingers gentle as she pushed a stray bit of hair behind Luna’s ear.

“And how’s your back?” she asked, her voice soft. “I think it’s healing nicely, but they’ll need to pull the stitches in a few days.”

Luna nodded.

“Lyme said she’ll do it,” she mumbled. “I still have a few days.”

Mum studied her for a moment as if trying to gauge how much of her act was real and how much was just stubbornness.

“Do you want to go outside?” she offered after a beat. “The weather’s nice tonight. I think it’s just about time for the shift change at the watchtower. That handsome, tanned soldier might be back.”

Luna chuckled.

“Sure.”

They stepped onto the small balcony and almost immediately, she noticed movement in the watchtower, with a soldier fully facing them.

Luna supposed this space was meant for whatever official had once occupied this room, overseeing the training soldiers below — now, it was a space for them to watch her family.

“I used to come here to visit your father when he was in training,” Mum said suddenly, her voice carrying a quiet nostalgia. “You were in my belly for a lot of those visits, you know? Luckily, you weren’t made here,” she gave Luna a pointed look. “We had a little house back then. He’d come home and have dinner with me.”

Luna smiled faintly. Of course, Mum knew this place well.

“I…” she spoke slowly. “We…”

She waited, and Mum pressed her lips together.

“We always wondered how it was for you, at home,” she decided. “Juno always said that there were… too many kids for comfort.”

Luna watched her quietly, waiting.

They were going to have that conversation eventually, she knew it. It had been waiting and brewing for a week now.

“But we always told her it was what you wanted,” Mum continued, twisting her wedding ring nervously. “That you had the resources, that you could have as many as you pleased. The staff could handle the hard work, while you got to enjoy the fun parts of raising them.”

Mum glanced back at the door, glancing at the kids inside.

“We always…” she sighed, shaking her head slightly. “You know, your father adored Cato. He never thought…”

She didn’t finish, but Luna didn’t need her to.

Dad never thought Cato could do anything wrong. He couldn’t imagine a world where his golden boy was anything but a wonderful husband.

Mum turned back to her, searching.

“And I know you planned them, right? Prince, Hunter, Teddy…”

There was something pleading in her gaze, a quiet hope that Luna would keep going, would add the others to the list. That she would assure her this wasn’t as bad as it could be.

She swallowed.

“And Archie, and Sweetie,” Luna added, her voice as loud as it could be — a low, soft addition.

She didn’t speak the names of the other boys, or of Juni. She couldn’t assure her of something that didn’t exist.

Mum closed her eyes, rubbing her own hand.

Luna held the railing, tapping on it.

“When…” she started.

Mum paused again.

“Did you…”

More silence.

Luna waited.

“Was this the first time?” Mum finally asked.

Luna stilled, her fingers stopping mid-tap against the railing.

She had known the question was coming. It was inevitable.

Mum kept her eyes closed, rubbing her hand like she was trying to soothe herself, and Luna breathed slowly.

“No.”

Mum’s breath hitched, just barely, but enough that Luna caught it.

“The party,” she added.

Because she had never said it aloud — she had never told anyone what had happened. The only people who knew were the people who’d seen it!

“The party?” Mum gasped. “When we were there?”

“Right before you arrived,” Luna told her. “My arm and my face.”

Mum didn’t answer and Luna did not have it in herself to look at her face as the silence stretched between them. Her fingers found the straps holding her arm in place and fidgeted absentmindedly, nails grazing the fabric as she braced herself to speak again.

“He convinced me never to mention it,” she said finally, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. “Said it would ruin your day. And then we talked that night, and I just… I wanted you to have a nice weekend with the kids.”

She expected something—some kind of emotion to well up inside her as she said it. Pain, anger, sorrow. But there was nothing. Just the plain, unremarkable truth.

Cato hurt her. Then convinced her to keep it a secret.

“Then he apologised, of course,” she added, as if that made any difference. “And tried to make things nice for the next few weeks.”

A brittle thing close to a laugh almost bubbled up her raw throat, but she held it back. Because that was the pattern before, wasn’t it? Before he put his hands on her.

He would break her down, scream at her, ‘show her where her place was’…  then offer just enough warmth and sweetness and kindness to make her forget how cold and horrible things had been and make her hope whatever was wrong with them could be fixed.

And then, slowly, inevitably, they would settle right back into that quiet, relentless misery she had let herself sink into long before she even realised, because Cato’s misery was inescapable and it contaminated every little thing he touched.

“He was more the… screaming type,” Luna tried to explain to Mum. “He’d get right in my face, yell until I backed down. Until I did what he wanted.”

It was hard to breathe as they settled in her. Her throat ached, both from talking and from everything she just could not speakthe memory of Sweetie’s unbirthday stark in her mind.

It had been a good day. A beautiful day.

And then Cato arrived the next morning, and—

She swallowed, forcing the thought away.

“He never forced himself on me,” she said after a pause. “Never held me down or took what he wanted. He just… convinced me it was his right.”

That was almost worse, wasn’t it? That he never had to use his strength, never had to pin her in place — just wore her down, bit by bit, until resistance felt pointless.

“I managed to put more distance between us after Blue,” she admitted.

The first time he’d tried to touch her after that party, she had practically thrown herself off the bed. Moved so fast that she smacked her head against the bedside table, she bled out everywhere. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t so pathetic.

The idea of those same hands touching her… she couldn’t.

“But once every two months,” she murmured. “Or three. He would wear me down.”

Mum’s sharp inhale was barely audible, but Luna caught it anyway.

“It doesn’t make it less wrong,” Mum said firmly. “It doesn’t make a difference whether he forced your mind or your body. You didn’t want it.”

Luna didn’t look at her, just breathing in.

What was the point? It was long over now. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything.

And he was dead.

Mum stayed quiet, but Luna could see the way her fingers clenched, the way her jaw tightened.

“I couldn’t leave, you know that,” Luna told her, her voice faltering, but she had to say. “I couldn’t leave him. I couldn’t leave the kids with him, and I couldn’t just take them with me.”

She didn’t have to explain — Mum had seen it, she had lived it this week. Even with the soldiers keeping watch, even with Mum helping, just moving through the day with so many children to care for was exhausting. It was hard enough now when they had people on their side.

Back then? Alone?

It would have been impossible.

And Cato had power — real power. The kind Luna would never have, no matter how strong she tried to be.

Too many things could have gone wrong.

“And President Snow was watching us,” she whimpered, pressing her fingers against her shirt, gripping the fabric with her immobilised arm. “He made sure we knew it. Sent us letters for every little occasion. He called Cato, and I had to listen.”

She could still see the ink on the page, crisp and precise. Each of the boys’ names listed, one by one.

Each of them a future victor.

Luna squeezed the railing, breathing faster as the fear settled in her bones, nearly suffocating.

What if this didn’t work? What if something went wrong?

Something would happen to them. She knew it.

Snow wasn’t the forgiving type, and he was clinging to life, he might as well live forever.

Mum reached for her hand, squeezing gently, and Luna took a deep breath, eyes meeting with a soldier as he watched them from the tower, unwavering.

Not in front of them. It was enough that she looked like this, they would not have a front seat to her breaking.

They stood in silence, time stretching between them until Mum suddenly stepped away, and Luna blinked for a moment, watching as she disappeared inside. She returned a few moments later with a glass of water, and gave it to her.

She waited, watching closely as Luna emptied it, then took the glass back, setting it aside before turning to look at her again, her shoulders stiff.

“I… I need to know,” Mum spoke softly, steady but full of so many feelings behind it.

Mum’s hand hovered just above her, hesitant, like she wanted to touch her and comfort her, but wasn’t sure if she was even allowed to.

“Was it… always like this?” she asked, almost stumbling over the words. “Did he always do this?”

Luna breathed in deep.

“Only this time,” she said, then hesitated. “Well. These two times.”

Her mother frowned, confused.

“I made him angry, the day before,” Luna explained, the words coming even lower now.

She’d spoken too much already, the doctor had warned her she should limit the use of her words. But this needed to be said.

“We had a fight. He came home, started throwing insults, and I… I was done,” Luna said, her words sharper now, filled with old defiance. “I told him everything I’d been keeping inside.”

She could still picture his face — red with fury, his voice hoarse from screaming at her to shut up, shut up, shut up. But she hadn’t.

She had stayed quiet for far too long. He deserved to hear all of that before he died, maybe it was what would haunt his afterlife if there was one.

“He beat me raw,” she admitted, her tone flat. “Kicked me. Did everything he could to shut me up… If the boys hadn’t walked in—”

Luna broke off, her throat tightening.

Not from pain. Not from fear.

But because they had seen it.

Her sweet boys, her babies had watched their father do that to their mother.

Mum took her hand again, and Luna let her.

She could have died that day.

“The next night, he came home,” Luna continued, her voice quieter now. “And he was frantic. He attacked me again. Put his hands around my neck.”

He’d lifted her clean off the ground like she weighed nothing!

“Then Prince came in,” she said, voice wavering just slightly. “I had to get him off of him. That’s why my back is all cut — I broke the mirror.

Mum inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around Luna’s. She could see she was trying to steady herself, to not cry.

“Then Prince grabbed a sword. Cato’s new sword,” Luna went on. “And they fought. I took the sword.”

She exhaled.

“I attacked him.”

The memory was still very much alive. The weight of the sword in her hands, the sheer force behind her swinging, the way the blade stuck in Cato’s body—

She could still feel it.

Luna was pulled it by little sniffles, and when she turned to Mum, her heart clenched at the sight.

She was trying so hard not to break.

She grabbed her hand without even thinking, trying to comfort her, and Mum squeezed her even tighter, and she moved so quickly she barely saw it, wrapping herself around her tight.

Luna didn't even think of resiting, she let herself be pulled into her mother’s arms, held tight. The pain in her body was nothing compared to being held by her.

This was her mother.

And Luna couldn’t remember the last time she had been held like this.

Still, she stiffened, the instinct to stay still, to keep everything locked inside far too natural for her.

Mum needed this — she needed comfort. This had shaken her, shattered everything she thought she knew about Cato and the last fifteen years.

But it was Mum. She was in Mum’s arms again.

It cracked her, and a sob that had been stuck for years just wrenched itself free from her throat. It came out thin, raw, her vocal chords barely capable of any more sound.

Her whole body shook, wrecked as she clung to her mother like a lifeline, like leaving her meant sinking right back to her past.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe now. I got you. He’s gone.”

Luna cried and cried like she had never cried before. She sobbed like a baby, had to be guided back to her bed.

He was gone.

Cato was gone. He was dead.

Whatever happened, whatever came next…

Cato was dead.

She had gotten rid of him. He would never come back. He would never haunt them again.

Mum gently petted Luna’s hair as she took the tablet from the little table between their bunk and the one Blue was sharing with Prince. Luna placed the square under her tongue, ignoring the disapproving look her mother gave when she realised how tiny it was.

It was best she thought the doctors weren’t caring for her enough, she would never let Luna save up the pain medicine like she was doing.

Mum’s fingers brushed her hair back, pushed it out of the way.

“I’m sorry,” Mum whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

Luna could only watch her, unable to speak, only sob and shake.

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” Mum whimpered softly. “Shouldn’t have let them rush you into a marriage so soon. I shouldn’t… I did so many things wrong with you.”

Mum blinked, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I let him into our house,” she whispered, still shocked. “I allowed him into our lives.”

Luna grabbed Mum's hand, pressing a kiss to her palm, shushing her as best as she could.

That was fifteen years ago. Nearly sixteen. It was long gone.

She had only been trying to be a good mother, letting Luna have a boyfriend, letting her live the life she thought was right.

They couldn’t know.

Mum exhaled, watching her, then pressed a long kiss to her forehead, and Luna felt the warmth of her breath, the soft tremble of her lips.

She didn’t go to her own bed, and just.

Mum adjusted Luna’s pillows, tucked Dash in closer, checked on Juni, and then settled right by her side.

Her fingers ran through her hair as she started humming something softly, an old song someone had sung somewhere.

“Deep in the meadow, under the willow,” she sang softly. “A bed of grass, a soft green pillow.”

Luna breathed in deeply.

When was the last time Mum had sung to her? When was the last time it was just then?

“Lay down your head and close your eyes, and when they open, the sun will rise.”

She couldn't help a little smile as she rested on the bed, clinging to that littlest bit of peace.

“Here it's safe, here it's warm…”

She fell asleep before she even heard the rest of the song.

The next days dragged on, slow and suffocating.

But there was one upside.

After nine long days, Lyme had finally arranged a way for them to leave their quarters, to stretch, to move.

It was a relief — for all of them — but especially for the boys, who had all grown restless and difficult to soothe. Their routine had been completely shattered, their lives were upended overnight, and they had been confined to a single room for over a week.

Luna couldn’t blame them. She was going crazy too.

The first two days outside, it had just been their family and Soldier Jones. A cautious, contained step forward.

Today was different.

Today, there were other children outside.

On one hand, Luna knew how important it was for the boys to socialise, to have some sense of normalcy again.

On the other…

She hadn’t forgotten the way they had been welcomed that first day. The cold looks. The whispered words. The hostility.

Luna watched as Blue and Dash kicked a little ball between them a few feet away, their little laughter light against the hum of chatter around them.

The other boys, however, stayed close, their eyes darting toward the other children but making no move to approach.

Luna adjusted Juni in her wrap, shifting the fabric so the late afternoon sun could warm her tiny face. The baby stirred slightly but remained content, her small fingers curling near her cheek.

Mum nudged Sammy and Sweetie, her voice light but firm.

“Look at that. Those kids over there playing with a ball.”

The boys said nothing, just side-eyeing her.

“Aren’t they your age?” Mum pressed, giving them an encouraging smile.

Sammy squinted at the group.

“…Yeah?” he answered slowly, clearly not convinced.

“Then go play with them,” Mum urged. “Go on, go.”

Neither of them moved right away.

Luna bit the inside of her cheek, watching their hesitation, and reached for both with her free hand.

“Go,” she told them, soft. “It’ll be fun.”

Sammy moved first — he always did, the more outgoing of the two. He grabbed Sweetie’s wrist and tugged him along, leaving Luna to exhale in quiet relief. A moment later, Lex bolted after them, their ever-loyal shadow.

Luna was still watching them go when a sudden burst of movement made her jump. A girl dashed up to Archie, smacking his back with a triumphant shout.

“Tag! You’re it!” she declared before sprinting away.

Archie froze, glancing at Luna, then at Mum, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and excitement.

But instead of chasing the girl, he spun right away and made a beeline for Prince.

“Tag! You’re it!” he announced, slapping Prince’s shoulder before taking off.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Luna laughed.

Prince never ever refused to play with his little siblings.

And still, he looked at her and then at where Archie had gone, as if asking for permission, and it was so sweet.

“You’re it!” she reminded him, couldn’t even help the laughter that came out of her reply as he scrambled after him, diving straight into the game of tag.

It hurt her back and her neck, but it was worth it.

Her amusement was cut short when a deep, authoritative voice cracked through the air from the speakers.

“No playing outside the marked zone! Failure to adhere to regulations will result in disciplinary action.”

Luna turned to the source, laughter fading, and Soldier Hawthorne was lowering his radio, his expression hard and unfriendly as his eyes met hers.

He hadn't moved from his spot, a few steps away, rigid and watchful — their escort for the day.

Luna knew well him enough — Hawthorne was one of the soldiers who disliked them the most and he never kid it at all.

She swallowed and looked away. So much for a carefree afternoon.

When she glanced back at Teddy and Hunter, they were both glaring at him very angrily, and her stomach twisted in response. She reached for them quickly, brushing her fingers over their arms.

It wasn’t worth it. He hated all of them already, glaring would not help.

“Why didn’t Jones come this time?” Teddy asked, still staring straight at Hawthorne. “He’s much nicer.”

“Nice is a stretch,” Hunter corrected, his voice deliberately loud enough to carry. “But at least he’s not rude to a bunch of kids just trying to have a minute of fun.”

Luna sighed, petting his hair.

“Soldier Jones probably has his own job to do, just like Soldier Hawthorne is doing his,” she reminded them, keeping her tone light but firm. “And speaking of playing — what are you two doing standing here instead of having fun with the other children?”

Teddy and Hunter exchanged a glance.

“We’re with you,” Hunter raised his chin.

“Me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“And Juni,” Teddy added, crossing his arms with a stubborn tilt to his chin.

Luna couldn’t help grinning.

“I didn’t know I was a princess in a tower,” she teased. “Where's the dragon?”

Teddy’s eyebrows shot up, and Hunter’s mouth opened, clearly ready to answer, but Mum was faster.

“It’s a rhetorical question, Hunter,” she interjected swiftly, gently. “A joke. It doesn’t need an answer.”

Hunter snapped his mouth shut, frowning and pouting, while Luna turned to Mum with a soft chuckle. Well, that was familiar. Mum had done the same thing to her when she was younger.

Before anyone could add to the conversation, Lex came flying to them, breathless and terribly mischievous, and he barely paused before smacking Hunter on the back.

“Tag, you’re it!” he squealed, already spinning on his heel to sprint away.

Hunter’s eyes widened in brief betrayal before he did exactly what Archie had done earlier — he turned straight to Teddy and passed it on.

“Tag, you’re it!”

And just like that, they were off running.

Luna adjusted Juni in her arms as she settled onto the nearest bench, keeping one hand steady behind her baby’s back for support. When she looked down, Juni was already gazing up at her with wide, curious eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Luna cooed softly.

Juni’s lips stretched into a toothless grin, her tiny head lifting just a little more as if trying to see her face more.

“Hi, my baby,” Luna whispered, running a gentle hand over her little back. “Did you miss my voice?”

Juni let out a sweet little coo, gripping Luna’s shirt with her small hands, making her heart grow thrice it size. She petted Juni’s back as her baby continued her happy little sounds to every word of hers.

A shadow fell over them. Luna glanced up, finding Lyme stepping to Mum.

“Loba,” Lyme greeted.

“Lyme.”

They exchanged a brief look before Mum’s gaze flickered to Luna. A silent moment passed, and then she gave a small nod and stepped away, heading toward Blue and Dash to join them in the shade.

Lyme lowered herself onto the bench beside Luna.

“Luna.”

“Lyme.”

“It’s good to see you in such a good mood,” Lyme observed with a small smile. “And with little Juniper.”

Juni turned her head toward the sound of her name, still beaming, and Lyme — rarely one for soft expressions — allowed herself a small smile in return.

“How are you feeling?” Lyme asked.

“Better,” Luna replied honestly. “It’s a slow improvement.”

She was still in pain and there was no medicine to be delivered, so Luna was just riding it out.

The days were easier than the nights.

It wasn’t as bad as the first days, but it wasn’t easy. She would need much rest after this outing, it would certainly make the pain in her back, neck and shoulder grow. Even holding Juni would probably become too much at some point soon — so she was enjoying this time with them.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Lyme said, her voice measured. “About a favour.”

Luna inhaled sharply, steadying herself as she glanced down at Juni, who was still watching Lyme with bright-eyed curiosity, fascinated by this new presence in her space.

That felt quite familiar, didn’t it?

She was half-sure she had heard those exact words in that exact tone fifteen years ago.

“We…” Lyme started slowly, choosing her words with care. “We’re in a strong position with the rebellion. Our forces are growing, people are joining us, we’re becoming stable…”

Luna’s eyes flicked toward her, still unable to turn her neck.

“You know, the Capitol… they have their favourite faces,” Lyme continued, her tone hesitant as she pointed subtly to Luna.

Luna felt the weight of the pause. Lyme took in a deep breath, steadying herself before continuing.

“You were always one of those faces, maybe because you were such a rare sight.”

Luna’s jaw tightened.

“I was not a willing sight,” she snapped.

Lyme fell into silence. She already knew the truth, the truth that clung to every part of Luna’s being. Those interviews, the photos, the label the Capitol had slapped on her: The Capitol's Delight.

Luna had never wanted any of it. It was forced upon her. Lyme had been the first one to use her, when Luna had just discovered she was pregnant, back when Cato had been in the arena. They had decided — without asking her — that using their relationship would give Cato an edge over his competitor, the boy from District 11.

“I know,” Lyme murmured, her voice softer now. “It wasn’t your choice back then. But that’s why I’m asking you now — to offer, not to command.”

Luna exhaled slowly, shifting her grip on Juni. Her baby had lost interest in their conversation and was now playing with the fabric of her wrap.

“And what exactly are you asking?” Luna pressed.

Lyme hesitated for only a second.

“You know how powerful an image can be,” Lyme said, her voice purposeful.

Luna said nothing, her body tensing. She knew exactly where this was going.

“Your image…” Lyme continued, trailing off as if testing the waters, “it can be incredibly powerful. Especially now. The Capitol may have forced you into their spotlight, but that same recognition could work for us now. It could help the rebellion.”

Luna tensed, feeling her heart dropping to her belly.

“You want to use me.”

Of fucking course.

Lyme didn’t miss a beat.

“I want to help the rebellion win.”

She was glad she couldn’t move her neck, she wouldn’t have to pretend to want to look at her as Lyme spoke.

Luna kept her eyes on the children playing tag, her stomach twisting. She had spent years being paraded around, shaped into whatever narrative best suited the Capitol’s needs. And now — now the rebellion wanted to do the same?

“The people need to know what the Capitol does to victors,” Luna said quietly, her voice hard. “How they use us. How they break us into pieces, make us dance for their amusement, lay for their pleasure, then leave us to rot. How that pain seeps into our families, into everything we touch.”

She exhaled slowly, words stinging her tongue, but the bitterness was familiar.

“How they turned a favourite into someone willing to kill his wife and son?” she spat, her voice sharp and clipped, unable to hold back the fury anymore.

Lyme was silent for a moment before leaning in slightly.

“Luna,” she said, her voice steady, “I was the first person to see your state.”

Luna glanced at her, finding her expression darkened.

“I’ve never been so shocked in my life. I never thought someone could turn their hands on someone they claimed to love and do such harm. And if people saw what I saw…”

She trailed off.

Luna waited, her jaw tightening. If people saw what she saw, what? The anger would turn to pity? The Capitol’s people would suddenly feel compassion for someone from the districts? After nearly ninety years of the Hunger Games?

But Lyme didn’t finish her thought.

Instead, she exhaled and shifted slightly.

“You don’t have to do it,” she said finally. “No one will force you.”

Luna barely had time to process that before Lyme added-

“I spoke with some of the officials. We believe we might be able to secure another week’s worth of medicine for you. In a few days. If you agree.”

Luna instinctively moved to turn her neck and look at her, but a sharp pain shot through her spine, the brace holding her in place and she held a pained whimper.

Fuck.

"Perhaps something a bit stronger as well," Lyme added. "We can’t spare morphling, but… a higher dosage of what you were already using is possible."

Luna didn’t respond.

So that was their strategy, then. Take advantage of her pain, of the way it gnawed at her every waking moment, to push her into doing what they wanted.

"You don’t have to answer now," Lyme said, standing. "We’ll talk tomorrow. You can tell me then."

Luna exhaled slowly, adjusting Juni against her chest, eyes straight on the boys, unwilling to give Lyme the satisfaction of a reaction.

But still, her stomach twisted and flipped in all directions as Lyme walked away.

She watched the boys playing, laughing, kicking and punching the ball back and forth, trying to keep it in the air. She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to breathe. To calm down.

Of fucking course they were asking this of her. As if everything she’d already endured wasn’t enough.

But she didn’t even have time to dwell on it — someone was already approaching her again.

She looked up, expecting Lyme or maybe even Mum, but instead, she found herself staring at him.

Finnick Odair.

Tall, broad-shouldered, sun-kissed as always. Finnick fucking Odair.

Luna didn’t even react at first. She just stared.

"Hello, Luna," he greeted, flashing that famous smile. "May I sit?"

She kept staring.

What the fuck was Finnick Odair doing in front of her?

Her body tensed on instinct.

This couldn't be good.

"Sure," she mumbled

He settled beside her with an ease that was almost mocking, as if this were just a casual chat between friends and not a ploy to move her.

“I’m Finnick,” he said smoothly, flashing another one of his easy smiles. “I’ve heard many great things about you.”

Luna had to force her body to shift, wincing as she turned enough to look at him.

“I’ve sculpted you…” she paused, searching her memory. “Twelve times. Two busts of your face, three of your face and chest, and seven full bodies. Nine of them were gilded.”

The other three couldn’t afford gold.

Finnick smiled, looking either pleased or amused.

“I know,” he said, his voice dipping into something softer. “I’m quite familiar with your work. It’s admirable — I’ve never seen such talent before.”

Something inside her warmed at the words, despite everything.

Well. That was… very kind of him.

“Thank you,” she breathed out. “I didn’t know you were a rebel.”

“Always have been,” Finnick said, his voice low and steady. “From the moment I saw the Capitol for what it really is and experienced them with my own life.”

Juni squirmed in her wrap, searching for the voice speaking nearby. Luna shifted slightly, adjusting so her daughter could see Finnick.

“And hello,” he greeted warmly, his voice turning gentle. “Who is this beautiful little one?”

Juni wriggled, her tiny hand pushing out of the wrap, and to Luna’s surprise, Finnick immediately offered her his finger. A grin spread across his face when Juni latched on, gripping it with that baby strength.

“Juniper,” Luna introduced her. “She’s my youngest.”

“Hello, Juniper,” Finnick cooed, his tone full of exaggerated admiration. “Aren’t you the sweetest? And you look just like your mother. I hope I’m not intruding on your time together — I know you have quite a few brothers who cherish every second with you.”

Luna just watched him carefully.

So many compliments, so much charm... just another person sent to coax her into doing what the rebellion wanted.

“She’s very precious,” Finnick affirmed, looking up at her face again.

“She is,” Luna agreed.

Finnick nodded, his grin lingering as Juni curled her fingers more tightly around his. His other hand rested loosely on his knee, his posture relaxed — but Luna could tell. This was calculated. He was patient. He was waiting for her to settle, waiting for her guard to lower.

“She’s strong,” he noted, glancing up at Luna. “A good grip.”

A pause. Not an awkward one, but deliberate. He wasn’t pushing. Not yet.

“She’s lucky to have you,” he whispered, tilting his head a little. “All the children are. I was told, very vaguely, that you were the one who took Cato down.”

And there it was. Another soft approach. Another attempt to sway her.

“Yes,” Luna confirmed simply.

The silence settled between them for a long time, until Finnick cleared his throat.

“I am truly sorry for what happened to you, Luna,” he affirmed. “I only met Cato briefly. Even during the Games, we never really spoke or spent more than a few minutes in the same room.”

Luna watched him carefully, waiting for the rest.

“What he did to you is unjustifiable,” Finnick continued, his gaze steady. “And your response was the most logical thing. In your place, I don’t know if I would have been brave enough… but I’d hope the people in my life would be.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

Juni was still playing with Finnick’s hand, fascinated by the way his fingers moved, and Luna rubbed her daughter’s back without thinking, focusing on her.

Finnick hesitated.

“Did he… did he ever talk about the Capitol to you?” he asked. “About what he did there?”

“About them buying him?” she cut in. “Endlessly.”

His shoulders sagged slightly before he caught himself, straightening up again.

“It was his favourite thing to rub in my face,” Luna continued, voice flat. “How much he took for me. So I could live a good life.”

As if any of that had ever been her fault.

“It’s awful,” Finnick affirmed. “Truly awful, what they did to us.”

Luna paused. The word settled in her mind, sharp and heavy.

Us.

It didn’t happen with just Cato. It shouldn’t shock her, of course it was a big system of human exploitation. And still…

“They did to you?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice steady. “And Lyme. Enobaria — you must know her. Mags, my mentor, for many years… until she got married and had her children. Then she became less desirable. Lyme, too. She seemed glad to fade from the spotlight. But practically all of us — at some point — were sold. Some once or twice. Some, many times over the years… like me. Like Cato.”

Luna swallowed down, holding Juni a little closer to her, the threat that Cato had hovered over her head making itself known again.

Her children being a part of that system. Being forced into that nightmare.

“It’s horrific,” Finnick said, his voice quieter now. “My experiences were… well.” he let out a slow breath. “And I’m certain his weren’t much better.”

“They weren’t,” she mumbled.

Cato had thrown it all in her face more than once. The way they loved seeing him act like an animal. Some pre-historic beast, taking them violently. Some liked him bending and submitting for their entertainment. How they laughed as a man like him was forced to kneel, to lick floors, to press his lips to polished shoes.

And worse things too, things that she never wanted to recall.

“The rebels… we’re planning to hijack a transmission,” Finnick told her. His expression didn’t change, but there was something determined in his eyes. “I’ve already recorded my own statement. I talked about what happened to me, about the people who did it. The way they paid me with their secrets. The way they used me.”

Luna took a deep breath. Finnick slowly withdrew his hand, giving Juni space as her tiny face pressed into her mother’s chest. Luna adjusted the wrap, hoping she’d drift off to sleep.

“A lot of people have lived through what I have,” Finnick continued, his voice steady but weighted. “And we believe telling the world about it is going to make a difference.”

He exhaled, loudly, chuckling.

“It was… nerve-wracking, really. A little humiliating, to say aloud things I tried so hard to compartmentalise. I stepped out sweating like I’d been running for an entire day. And it was just as exhausting.”

Luna watched him, waiting. Yes, it sounded exhausting.

“But it’s worth it for me,” he said firmly. “People see someone they feel a connection with. They learn the truth about the evil they once cheered for. And I’m just one man. I can fight for myself, and I’m only fighting for myself.”

He glanced at her then, his expression unreadable.

“But you… you have nine little boys and a little girl,” he said. “Children the entire Capitol was hyped about meeting someday. The day your eldest stood for his first Reaping, I remember the cameras being on him the entire time. Caesar gushed about how much he looked like his father. And the same when your second boy came of age.”

Luna swallowed, unable to meet his eyes, and the bitterness spread thick on her tongue.

“They were already obsessing over them,” Finnick murmured, his voice quiet but sharp. “When they were nothing more than children. Innocent. Supposed to be out of their reach. All the while, they suffered because of them,” he added, his tone laced with something close to anger. “All the while, you — on your own — protected each and every one of them with everything you had in you.”

Luna blinked, trying to steady herself and to keep the fear from swallowing her whole. But her eyes burned anyway, hot with tears as that old, familiar terror pressed against her ribs.

“Suffering. Hidden. Alone,” Finnick said, his voice quiet but relentless. “All while they upheld the system — the very system — that caused your pain. That caused their pain and endangered them. You protected them with your own body. And now? They tell me you’re still trying to protect them, even when you’re hurt. Even when you’re hurt!”

She clutched Juni closer, as if holding her daughter could anchor her.

Did he think she would do anything different? That what she had done — what she was doing—was extraordinary?

These were her children. It was her duty to keep them safe, to ensure their lives were good, that they would never feel the weight of what she had suffered.

“You killed a man easily three times your size!” Finnick exclaimed. “For them!”

He let out a short huff of a laugh, shaking his head.

“You’d kill me for them. You’d kill Hawthorne over there,” he added, nodding toward the other man, his words laced with something almost light. But there was no mistaking the truth beneath them. “And you’ve made so many sacrifices for them, Luna. I know that.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, a tear slipping down her cheek before she could stop it.

“Don’t you think it’s time people know?” Finnick pressed, his voice quiet but urgent. “That they know the truth? What the Capitol does to good people? To a good mother who was only trying to protect her children — who nearly died because of their system, their actions?”

His green eyes burned with conviction as he leaned in just slightly, gaze locked on hers.

“That you’re seen as more than the Capitol’s Delight?” he asked, voice dropping almost to a whisper. “That people finally see the woman you truly are? A good mother who had to protect her children from their own father because to the Capitol, they were nothing but collateral damage?”

Luna swallowed hard, her throat tight. She gripped Juni just a little closer as if her daughter alone could steady her shaking hands.

She didn’t respond right away. Couldn’t.

Finnick let the silence stretch between them, but he didn’t look away. He just watched her, patient. Expectant.

She had spent so long being silent. So long keeping her head down, keeping her children safe, swallowing her own pain because there was no space for it — not when there were so many little lives depending on her.

But…

“I don’t need their pity,” she murmured, looking away.

She had received enough pity for a lifetime.

“This isn’t about pity,” Finnick countered. “It’s about power.”

“You took down Cato,” he reminded her. “You fought your way out. But the Capitol still owns the story,” he gestured, frustration flickering through his expression. “They can twist it. Make you into whatever they want you to be. A damsel in distress, kidnapped and held for ransom. A victim who needs saving!” his voice hardened. “They can use your image however they want — if you let them.”

Luna clenched her hands.

“This is your chance,” he pressed, voice unwavering. “To protect your children in the biggest way possible. To show everyone who you truly are — not whatever they made you to be.”

She raised her free hand, quickly wiping her face, trying to steady herself.

“I still need to think,” Luna warned him, her voice firm despite the weight in her chest. “This isn’t a decision to be made like this. You of all people should know that.”

Did they think they could push her into a decision like this in five minutes? Ten?

“Of course,” Finnick agreed easily, but he didn’t back away.

Luna took a deep breath, closing her eyes for just a moment, trying to collect herself. But before she could exhale, Juni let out a small whimper, pressing her face against Luna’s chest. The sound grew into a sharp, hungry cry — an honestly perfect cue for him to leave.

Finnick nodded solemnly to her.

“It was an honour to meet you, Luna,” he said. “I hope our paths cross again. I’ll give you privacy.”

Her mother approached swiftly, her gaze lingering on Finnick as he walked away. Luna focused on soothing Juni, waiting for help — she could do little on her own with the braces restricting her movements.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a shift in the room. Soldier Hawthorne silently stepped back as well, moving away to watch over the children instead of hovering over her shoulder.

She couldn’t help the pain that irradiated through her as they both worked on moving Juni and Luna into a doable feeding position, the weariness starting to set in her already.

It was going to be a long night.

. . .

Next Chapter: Epilogue (3/5) (on Patreon - Coming to Tumblr/AO3 on the 24th of August)

. . .

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[welldonebeca]

Dragon Saddles from House of the Dragon

Syrax’s saddle:

Caraxes’ saddle:

Seasmoke’s saddle:

[welldonebeca]

Happier Than Ever - Epilogue (2/5)

Chapter summary: The Hadleys try to adapt to life in the Rebel Quarters. Luna tells her mother the truth about her marriage. The Rebellion starts asking for favours. WC: 8.6k words Warnings: Tension. Canon divergence.

Previous chapter: Epilogue (Part 1/5)

First chapter: Year 0 (Part ½)

masterlist

They were settled into what Lyme called a ‘safe house’.

For starters, it wasn’t a house. It was an old training centre, crowded and cold, and they were placed among strangers. The soldiers had been kind enough to clear a row of five bunk beds for them — Juni could sleep in her car seat, and Dash, predictably, wasn't sleep alone, so it was fine.

And it was a small, nice enough gesture, but it didn't change the fact that they were surrounded by people who weren’t exactly welcoming.

They lasted less than twenty-four hours around other people before they had to be moved.

Luna didn’t know the people around her, but they certainly knew her. They knew her name, they knew the name of her children's father, and they could see him reflected in every single one of her boys. And they made it painfully clear.

The whispers were relentless. The stares, sharp and unforgiving. People said insults under their breath, some bolder than others. More than once, someone ‘accidentally’ bumped into one of the children and caused a little accident, their apologies insincere and their intentions unmistakable when they spoke up. The hostility was suffocating.

By morning, they were transferred.

The new quarters were quieter, seemingly reserved for officials. Lyme had arranged bunk beds inside, along with the few belongings they had. It wasn’t much, but at least they were away from the others.

Her first delivery of medicine arrived that same morning when she was trying to help the younger boys settle to sleep a bit more.

They had more privacy now, and that was good. But with it came something else — constant surveillance.

Soldiers came and went at random times, delivering updates that were rarely useful. Most of the information was irrelevant, forgotten before the next one even arrived. Luna was half-convinced that they weren’t there to inform her of anything important but rather to observe — to walk in, look around, and take mental notes of her every move.

It was absurd, there was nowhere she could go without at least two pairs of watchful eyes on her.

Two guards were always stationed at the door the whole time, unmoving. The only two windows in their quarters faced a watchtower, so beyond never being alone, they were also watched from every angle.

Even the tiny balcony — so small it barely fit three adults — was nothing, the moment she stepped outside, she was in full view of the tower.

So much vigilance. For what? A group of children, a severely injured and underweight 33-year-old woman, and their 53-year-old grandmother.

What did they think they would do? Start a revolt?

The soldiers controlled everything — food, supplies, even her medication. They brought it all to them at a scheduled time and determined what she received and when.

So Luna rationed.

To Doctor Sara’s credit, the medicine came exactly as promised: three tablets a day, to be taken every eight hours, to keep the pain manageable. But while Luna was in pain, she wasn’t in enough pain to be stupid. The earlier injection dulled the worst of it, allowing her to move without wanting to scream, to be touched without her body recoiling in agony.

But medicine was finite.

What if one of the children needed it? What if something happened to Mum? If resources ever ran short, and it came down to choosing between a soldier and her… well, she had no illusions about where the priority would lie.

So she adjusted.

The first day, she took two tablets — spread over twelve hours — just enough to keep herself functional. The next day, she halved her doses, taking only a fraction every twelve hours. It kept the pain at bay, at least to a bearable level, and the rest? She quietly tucked away with her things, hidden for emergencies.

Lyme was kind enough to let them keep a few things.

Unsurprisingly, most of the food taken from her house never made it to Luna and the boys. If she had to guess, it had been absorbed into the rebel supplies. But one box did reach them — containing a few precious items. Some boxed coconut water, and a few jars of sweets, jams, and treats from their cook.

Luna was smart enough to keep them all hidden, of course, not even the boys knew where they were or when she would give them to them.

The food in the quarters was…

It wasn’t terrible, but it was limited. Each portion was labelled with their names — most likely calculated down to the calories and nutrients for their ages and sizes. Luna received more than Mum, probably because she was still Juni’s only source of food and Dash was breastfeeding once or twice a day.

The boys hated it.

At first, Sweetie and Blue outright refused to eat, while Hunter complained endlessly. But three or four days in, reality set in. If they didn’t eat what was given, there would be nothing else, and Luna wasn’t about to waste their few indulgences on complaints.

She stretched what little extra they had — giving them coconut water in small portions, knowing once a container was opened, it had to be finished. It was barely half a glass for each boy. At night, she handed out a fruit — those were just enough to last one week.

Somehow, it was the longest and shortest week of her life. Everything blurred together into a haze of routine, medicine, and pain — dull but constant, a reminder of how much her body was still recovering and so very slow.

Mum helped — a lot.

Lex, Blue, and Dash were slowly getting used to her, but it was still an adjustment. To them, she was a stranger. She looked like one too. Luna had never resembled Mum in any way. Maybe if she’d had brown hair or brown eyes, the boys would have found something familiar, something comforting in their grandmother’s presence. But she didn’t. And they were too little to remember her, too set in their ways to accept change without resistance — especially Blue.

A small part of her wondered if they thought about Cato when they looked at Mum. Who else had hair that light? Eyes that blue?

Luna had heard the comparisons before. She knew what people saw when they looked at them.

Even here, it hadn’t taken long for someone to make a comment. One of the soldiers had called Mum her ‘mother-in-law’, assuming she was Cato’s mother instead of hers. Mum had to correct them, to insist Luna was her daughter.

But she knew the truth. She looked more like Cato’s mother than her own, and no matter how much she denied it, the world had already decided what it wanted to see from the moment their family stepped into that centre.

Luna patted Dash’s tiny back gently, his warm little body nestled against her as he clung to her immobilised arm, hand curled right around hers, holding on tightly even as he dozed.

His eyelids fluttered, drooping for a moment — only for his eyes to snap open again, determined to stay awake.

Luna chuckled softly.

Stubborn little boy.

“Go to sleep,” she whispered, rubbing his palm.

Dash simply grinned up at her, a sleepy giggle escaping his lips. Luna shook her head, smiling despite herself.

The other kids were fast asleep — only Dash remained awake, nestled in her arms.

He was doing better. It was good. He deserved to be doing better.

Mum and the boys had taken over many of the little things she usually did — playing, helping with meals, tidying up. Prince had become an expert at brushing Blue and Dash’s teeth, standing watch as Lex managed his own. And Mum… well, no one would ever guess her age by the way she threw herself into play, lifting and tossing the boys as if her bones were made of iron.

Luna tried to rest as best she could, to heal and recover, and leave this all behind.

No one had said how long they would have to stay in that place, but it felt like goddamn forever now.

Luna breathed quietly, waiting for Dash to fally asleep fully before settling him onto her bed and she tucked him in, watching for a moment to make sure he didn’t wake up.

“Here,” Mum spoke softly, giving her a glass of water.

Luna offered a tired smile, adjusting her shirt back into place. Lyme had sent her some clothes — two sets of oversized pyjama pants that barely reached her ankles but had to be pined around her waist with hair ties and pins. Probably stolen from someone who hadn’t made it. But she couldn’t bring herself to care.

They felt better than the thin slips the Capitol had forced on her. Less exposed. More hers.

She emptied the glass and passed it back, then stood up — slowly, carefully — before making her way around the room to check on the boys.

The older ones had claimed the top bunks, with Archie practically glowing when he was included in their ranks. The younger boys were on the lower ones, along with Luna herself. Mum had taken the one above hers.

A few days ago, one of the soldiers had mentioned education — some kind of schooling for the boys, books that would be provided because they couldn’t attend anything.

Luna wasn’t entertaining the illusion that it would be anything different from the Capitol’s methods. They weren’t trying to teach, they were trying to indoctrinate. But it wasn’t like she could refuse the books, and the boys were already getting antsy from so many days locked in this place.

“Did you take your medicine?” Mum asked, moving back to help her.

“Before I lay down,” she told her, her voice still frail. “It’ll help me sleep.”

Her voice was still weak. It was coming back slowly, but she couldn’t speak up much louder than a mumble.

Mum nodded, her fingers gentle as she pushed a stray bit of hair behind Luna’s ear.

“And how’s your back?” she asked, her voice soft. “I think it’s healing nicely, but they’ll need to pull the stitches in a few days.”

Luna nodded.

“Lyme said she’ll do it,” she mumbled. “I still have a few days.”

Mum studied her for a moment as if trying to gauge how much of her act was real and how much was just stubbornness.

“Do you want to go outside?” she offered after a beat. “The weather’s nice tonight. I think it’s just about time for the shift change at the watchtower. That handsome, tanned soldier might be back.”

Luna chuckled.

“Sure.”

They stepped onto the small balcony and almost immediately, she noticed movement in the watchtower, with a soldier fully facing them.

Luna supposed this space was meant for whatever official had once occupied this room, overseeing the training soldiers below — now, it was a space for them to watch her family.

“I used to come here to visit your father when he was in training,” Mum said suddenly, her voice carrying a quiet nostalgia. “You were in my belly for a lot of those visits, you know? Luckily, you weren’t made here,” she gave Luna a pointed look. “We had a little house back then. He’d come home and have dinner with me.”

Luna smiled faintly. Of course, Mum knew this place well.

“I…” she spoke slowly. “We…”

She waited, and Mum pressed her lips together.

“We always wondered how it was for you, at home,” she decided. “Juno always said that there were… too many kids for comfort.”

Luna watched her quietly, waiting.

They were going to have that conversation eventually, she knew it. It had been waiting and brewing for a week now.

“But we always told her it was what you wanted,” Mum continued, twisting her wedding ring nervously. “That you had the resources, that you could have as many as you pleased. The staff could handle the hard work, while you got to enjoy the fun parts of raising them.”

Mum glanced back at the door, glancing at the kids inside.

“We always…” she sighed, shaking her head slightly. “You know, your father adored Cato. He never thought…”

She didn’t finish, but Luna didn’t need her to.

Dad never thought Cato could do anything wrong. He couldn’t imagine a world where his golden boy was anything but a wonderful husband.

Mum turned back to her, searching.

“And I know you planned them, right? Prince, Hunter, Teddy…”

There was something pleading in her gaze, a quiet hope that Luna would keep going, would add the others to the list. That she would assure her this wasn’t as bad as it could be.

She swallowed.

“And Archie, and Sweetie,” Luna added, her voice as loud as it could be — a low, soft addition.

She didn’t speak the names of the other boys, or of Juni. She couldn’t assure her of something that didn’t exist.

Mum closed her eyes, rubbing her own hand.

Luna held the railing, tapping on it.

“When…” she started.

Mum paused again.

“Did you…”

More silence.

Luna waited.

“Was this the first time?” Mum finally asked.

Luna stilled, her fingers stopping mid-tap against the railing.

She had known the question was coming. It was inevitable.

Mum kept her eyes closed, rubbing her hand like she was trying to soothe herself, and Luna breathed slowly.

“No.”

Mum’s breath hitched, just barely, but enough that Luna caught it.

“The party,” she added.

Because she had never said it aloud — she had never told anyone what had happened. The only people who knew were the people who’d seen it!

“The party?” Mum gasped. “When we were there?”

“Right before you arrived,” Luna told her. “My arm and my face.”

Mum didn’t answer and Luna did not have it in herself to look at her face as the silence stretched between them. Her fingers found the straps holding her arm in place and fidgeted absentmindedly, nails grazing the fabric as she braced herself to speak again.

“He convinced me never to mention it,” she said finally, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. “Said it would ruin your day. And then we talked that night, and I just… I wanted you to have a nice weekend with the kids.”

She expected something—some kind of emotion to well up inside her as she said it. Pain, anger, sorrow. But there was nothing. Just the plain, unremarkable truth.

Cato hurt her. Then convinced her to keep it a secret.

“Then he apologised, of course,” she added, as if that made any difference. “And tried to make things nice for the next few weeks.”

A brittle thing close to a laugh almost bubbled up her raw throat, but she held it back. Because that was the pattern before, wasn’t it? Before he put his hands on her.

He would break her down, scream at her, ‘show her where her place was’…  then offer just enough warmth and sweetness and kindness to make her forget how cold and horrible things had been and make her hope whatever was wrong with them could be fixed.

And then, slowly, inevitably, they would settle right back into that quiet, relentless misery she had let herself sink into long before she even realised, because Cato’s misery was inescapable and it contaminated every little thing he touched.

“He was more the… screaming type,” Luna tried to explain to Mum. “He’d get right in my face, yell until I backed down. Until I did what he wanted.”

It was hard to breathe as they settled in her. Her throat ached, both from talking and from everything she just could not speakthe memory of Sweetie’s unbirthday stark in her mind.

It had been a good day. A beautiful day.

And then Cato arrived the next morning, and—

She swallowed, forcing the thought away.

“He never forced himself on me,” she said after a pause. “Never held me down or took what he wanted. He just… convinced me it was his right.”

That was almost worse, wasn’t it? That he never had to use his strength, never had to pin her in place — just wore her down, bit by bit, until resistance felt pointless.

“I managed to put more distance between us after Blue,” she admitted.

The first time he’d tried to touch her after that party, she had practically thrown herself off the bed. Moved so fast that she smacked her head against the bedside table, she bled out everywhere. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t so pathetic.

The idea of those same hands touching her… she couldn’t.

“But once every two months,” she murmured. “Or three. He would wear me down.”

Mum’s sharp inhale was barely audible, but Luna caught it anyway.

“It doesn’t make it less wrong,” Mum said firmly. “It doesn’t make a difference whether he forced your mind or your body. You didn’t want it.”

Luna didn’t look at her, just breathing in.

What was the point? It was long over now. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything.

And he was dead.

Mum stayed quiet, but Luna could see the way her fingers clenched, the way her jaw tightened.

“I couldn’t leave, you know that,” Luna told her, her voice faltering, but she had to say. “I couldn’t leave him. I couldn’t leave the kids with him, and I couldn’t just take them with me.”

She didn’t have to explain — Mum had seen it, she had lived it this week. Even with the soldiers keeping watch, even with Mum helping, just moving through the day with so many children to care for was exhausting. It was hard enough now when they had people on their side.

Back then? Alone?

It would have been impossible.

And Cato had power — real power. The kind Luna would never have, no matter how strong she tried to be.

Too many things could have gone wrong.

“And President Snow was watching us,” she whimpered, pressing her fingers against her shirt, gripping the fabric with her immobilised arm. “He made sure we knew it. Sent us letters for every little occasion. He called Cato, and I had to listen.”

She could still see the ink on the page, crisp and precise. Each of the boys’ names listed, one by one.

Each of them a future victor.

Luna squeezed the railing, breathing faster as the fear settled in her bones, nearly suffocating.

What if this didn’t work? What if something went wrong?

Something would happen to them. She knew it.

Snow wasn’t the forgiving type, and he was clinging to life, he might as well live forever.

Mum reached for her hand, squeezing gently, and Luna took a deep breath, eyes meeting with a soldier as he watched them from the tower, unwavering.

Not in front of them. It was enough that she looked like this, they would not have a front seat to her breaking.

They stood in silence, time stretching between them until Mum suddenly stepped away, and Luna blinked for a moment, watching as she disappeared inside. She returned a few moments later with a glass of water, and gave it to her.

She waited, watching closely as Luna emptied it, then took the glass back, setting it aside before turning to look at her again, her shoulders stiff.

“I… I need to know,” Mum spoke softly, steady but full of so many feelings behind it.

Mum’s hand hovered just above her, hesitant, like she wanted to touch her and comfort her, but wasn’t sure if she was even allowed to.

“Was it… always like this?” she asked, almost stumbling over the words. “Did he always do this?”

Luna breathed in deep.

“Only this time,” she said, then hesitated. “Well. These two times.”

Her mother frowned, confused.

“I made him angry, the day before,” Luna explained, the words coming even lower now.

She’d spoken too much already, the doctor had warned her she should limit the use of her words. But this needed to be said.

“We had a fight. He came home, started throwing insults, and I… I was done,” Luna said, her words sharper now, filled with old defiance. “I told him everything I’d been keeping inside.”

She could still picture his face — red with fury, his voice hoarse from screaming at her to shut up, shut up, shut up. But she hadn’t.

She had stayed quiet for far too long. He deserved to hear all of that before he died, maybe it was what would haunt his afterlife if there was one.

“He beat me raw,” she admitted, her tone flat. “Kicked me. Did everything he could to shut me up… If the boys hadn’t walked in—”

Luna broke off, her throat tightening.

Not from pain. Not from fear.

But because they had seen it.

Her sweet boys, her babies had watched their father do that to their mother.

Mum took her hand again, and Luna let her.

She could have died that day.

“The next night, he came home,” Luna continued, her voice quieter now. “And he was frantic. He attacked me again. Put his hands around my neck.”

He’d lifted her clean off the ground like she weighed nothing!

“Then Prince came in,” she said, voice wavering just slightly. “I had to get him off of him. That’s why my back is all cut — I broke the mirror.

Mum inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around Luna’s. She could see she was trying to steady herself, to not cry.

“Then Prince grabbed a sword. Cato’s new sword,” Luna went on. “And they fought. I took the sword.”

She exhaled.

“I attacked him.”

The memory was still very much alive. The weight of the sword in her hands, the sheer force behind her swinging, the way the blade stuck in Cato’s body—

She could still feel it.

Luna was pulled it by little sniffles, and when she turned to Mum, her heart clenched at the sight.

She was trying so hard not to break.

She grabbed her hand without even thinking, trying to comfort her, and Mum squeezed her even tighter, and she moved so quickly she barely saw it, wrapping herself around her tight.

Luna didn't even think of resiting, she let herself be pulled into her mother’s arms, held tight. The pain in her body was nothing compared to being held by her.

This was her mother.

And Luna couldn’t remember the last time she had been held like this.

Still, she stiffened, the instinct to stay still, to keep everything locked inside far too natural for her.

Mum needed this — she needed comfort. This had shaken her, shattered everything she thought she knew about Cato and the last fifteen years.

But it was Mum. She was in Mum’s arms again.

It cracked her, and a sob that had been stuck for years just wrenched itself free from her throat. It came out thin, raw, her vocal chords barely capable of any more sound.

Her whole body shook, wrecked as she clung to her mother like a lifeline, like leaving her meant sinking right back to her past.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe now. I got you. He’s gone.”

Luna cried and cried like she had never cried before. She sobbed like a baby, had to be guided back to her bed.

He was gone.

Cato was gone. He was dead.

Whatever happened, whatever came next…

Cato was dead.

She had gotten rid of him. He would never come back. He would never haunt them again.

Mum gently petted Luna’s hair as she took the tablet from the little table between their bunk and the one Blue was sharing with Prince. Luna placed the square under her tongue, ignoring the disapproving look her mother gave when she realised how tiny it was.

It was best she thought the doctors weren’t caring for her enough, she would never let Luna save up the pain medicine like she was doing.

Mum’s fingers brushed her hair back, pushed it out of the way.

“I’m sorry,” Mum whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

Luna could only watch her, unable to speak, only sob and shake.

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” Mum whimpered softly. “Shouldn’t have let them rush you into a marriage so soon. I shouldn’t… I did so many things wrong with you.”

Mum blinked, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I let him into our house,” she whispered, still shocked. “I allowed him into our lives.”

Luna grabbed Mum's hand, pressing a kiss to her palm, shushing her as best as she could.

That was fifteen years ago. Nearly sixteen. It was long gone.

She had only been trying to be a good mother, letting Luna have a boyfriend, letting her live the life she thought was right.

They couldn’t know.

Mum exhaled, watching her, then pressed a long kiss to her forehead, and Luna felt the warmth of her breath, the soft tremble of her lips.

She didn’t go to her own bed, and just.

Mum adjusted Luna’s pillows, tucked Dash in closer, checked on Juni, and then settled right by her side.

Her fingers ran through her hair as she started humming something softly, an old song someone had sung somewhere.

“Deep in the meadow, under the willow,” she sang softly. “A bed of grass, a soft green pillow.”

Luna breathed in deeply.

When was the last time Mum had sung to her? When was the last time it was just then?

“Lay down your head and close your eyes, and when they open, the sun will rise.”

She couldn't help a little smile as she rested on the bed, clinging to that littlest bit of peace.

“Here it's safe, here it's warm…”

She fell asleep before she even heard the rest of the song.

The next days dragged on, slow and suffocating.

But there was one upside.

After nine long days, Lyme had finally arranged a way for them to leave their quarters, to stretch, to move.

It was a relief — for all of them — but especially for the boys, who had all grown restless and difficult to soothe. Their routine had been completely shattered, their lives were upended overnight, and they had been confined to a single room for over a week.

Luna couldn’t blame them. She was going crazy too.

The first two days outside, it had just been their family and Soldier Jones. A cautious, contained step forward.

Today was different.

Today, there were other children outside.

On one hand, Luna knew how important it was for the boys to socialise, to have some sense of normalcy again.

On the other…

She hadn’t forgotten the way they had been welcomed that first day. The cold looks. The whispered words. The hostility.

Luna watched as Blue and Dash kicked a little ball between them a few feet away, their little laughter light against the hum of chatter around them.

The other boys, however, stayed close, their eyes darting toward the other children but making no move to approach.

Luna adjusted Juni in her wrap, shifting the fabric so the late afternoon sun could warm her tiny face. The baby stirred slightly but remained content, her small fingers curling near her cheek.

Mum nudged Sammy and Sweetie, her voice light but firm.

“Look at that. Those kids over there playing with a ball.”

The boys said nothing, just side-eyeing her.

“Aren’t they your age?” Mum pressed, giving them an encouraging smile.

Sammy squinted at the group.

“…Yeah?” he answered slowly, clearly not convinced.

“Then go play with them,” Mum urged. “Go on, go.”

Neither of them moved right away.

Luna bit the inside of her cheek, watching their hesitation, and reached for both with her free hand.

“Go,” she told them, soft. “It’ll be fun.”

Sammy moved first — he always did, the more outgoing of the two. He grabbed Sweetie’s wrist and tugged him along, leaving Luna to exhale in quiet relief. A moment later, Lex bolted after them, their ever-loyal shadow.

Luna was still watching them go when a sudden burst of movement made her jump. A girl dashed up to Archie, smacking his back with a triumphant shout.

“Tag! You’re it!” she declared before sprinting away.

Archie froze, glancing at Luna, then at Mum, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and excitement.

But instead of chasing the girl, he spun right away and made a beeline for Prince.

“Tag! You’re it!” he announced, slapping Prince’s shoulder before taking off.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Luna laughed.

Prince never ever refused to play with his little siblings.

And still, he looked at her and then at where Archie had gone, as if asking for permission, and it was so sweet.

“You’re it!” she reminded him, couldn’t even help the laughter that came out of her reply as he scrambled after him, diving straight into the game of tag.

It hurt her back and her neck, but it was worth it.

Her amusement was cut short when a deep, authoritative voice cracked through the air from the speakers.

“No playing outside the marked zone! Failure to adhere to regulations will result in disciplinary action.”

Luna turned to the source, laughter fading, and Soldier Hawthorne was lowering his radio, his expression hard and unfriendly as his eyes met hers.

He hadn't moved from his spot, a few steps away, rigid and watchful — their escort for the day.

Luna knew well him enough — Hawthorne was one of the soldiers who disliked them the most and he never kid it at all.

She swallowed and looked away. So much for a carefree afternoon.

When she glanced back at Teddy and Hunter, they were both glaring at him very angrily, and her stomach twisted in response. She reached for them quickly, brushing her fingers over their arms.

It wasn’t worth it. He hated all of them already, glaring would not help.

“Why didn’t Jones come this time?” Teddy asked, still staring straight at Hawthorne. “He’s much nicer.”

“Nice is a stretch,” Hunter corrected, his voice deliberately loud enough to carry. “But at least he’s not rude to a bunch of kids just trying to have a minute of fun.”

Luna sighed, petting his hair.

“Soldier Jones probably has his own job to do, just like Soldier Hawthorne is doing his,” she reminded them, keeping her tone light but firm. “And speaking of playing — what are you two doing standing here instead of having fun with the other children?”

Teddy and Hunter exchanged a glance.

“We’re with you,” Hunter raised his chin.

“Me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“And Juni,” Teddy added, crossing his arms with a stubborn tilt to his chin.

Luna couldn’t help grinning.

“I didn’t know I was a princess in a tower,” she teased. “Where's the dragon?”

Teddy’s eyebrows shot up, and Hunter’s mouth opened, clearly ready to answer, but Mum was faster.

“It’s a rhetorical question, Hunter,” she interjected swiftly, gently. “A joke. It doesn’t need an answer.”

Hunter snapped his mouth shut, frowning and pouting, while Luna turned to Mum with a soft chuckle. Well, that was familiar. Mum had done the same thing to her when she was younger.

Before anyone could add to the conversation, Lex came flying to them, breathless and terribly mischievous, and he barely paused before smacking Hunter on the back.

“Tag, you’re it!” he squealed, already spinning on his heel to sprint away.

Hunter’s eyes widened in brief betrayal before he did exactly what Archie had done earlier — he turned straight to Teddy and passed it on.

“Tag, you’re it!”

And just like that, they were off running.

Luna adjusted Juni in her arms as she settled onto the nearest bench, keeping one hand steady behind her baby’s back for support. When she looked down, Juni was already gazing up at her with wide, curious eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Luna cooed softly.

Juni’s lips stretched into a toothless grin, her tiny head lifting just a little more as if trying to see her face more.

“Hi, my baby,” Luna whispered, running a gentle hand over her little back. “Did you miss my voice?”

Juni let out a sweet little coo, gripping Luna’s shirt with her small hands, making her heart grow thrice it size. She petted Juni’s back as her baby continued her happy little sounds to every word of hers.

A shadow fell over them. Luna glanced up, finding Lyme stepping to Mum.

“Loba,” Lyme greeted.

“Lyme.”

They exchanged a brief look before Mum’s gaze flickered to Luna. A silent moment passed, and then she gave a small nod and stepped away, heading toward Blue and Dash to join them in the shade.

Lyme lowered herself onto the bench beside Luna.

“Luna.”

“Lyme.”

“It’s good to see you in such a good mood,” Lyme observed with a small smile. “And with little Juniper.”

Juni turned her head toward the sound of her name, still beaming, and Lyme — rarely one for soft expressions — allowed herself a small smile in return.

“How are you feeling?” Lyme asked.

“Better,” Luna replied honestly. “It’s a slow improvement.”

She was still in pain and there was no medicine to be delivered, so Luna was just riding it out.

The days were easier than the nights.

It wasn’t as bad as the first days, but it wasn’t easy. She would need much rest after this outing, it would certainly make the pain in her back, neck and shoulder grow. Even holding Juni would probably become too much at some point soon — so she was enjoying this time with them.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Lyme said, her voice measured. “About a favour.”

Luna inhaled sharply, steadying herself as she glanced down at Juni, who was still watching Lyme with bright-eyed curiosity, fascinated by this new presence in her space.

That felt quite familiar, didn’t it?

She was half-sure she had heard those exact words in that exact tone fifteen years ago.

“We…” Lyme started slowly, choosing her words with care. “We’re in a strong position with the rebellion. Our forces are growing, people are joining us, we’re becoming stable…”

Luna’s eyes flicked toward her, still unable to turn her neck.

“You know, the Capitol… they have their favourite faces,” Lyme continued, her tone hesitant as she pointed subtly to Luna.

Luna felt the weight of the pause. Lyme took in a deep breath, steadying herself before continuing.

“You were always one of those faces, maybe because you were such a rare sight.”

Luna’s jaw tightened.

“I was not a willing sight,” she snapped.

Lyme fell into silence. She already knew the truth, the truth that clung to every part of Luna’s being. Those interviews, the photos, the label the Capitol had slapped on her: The Capitol's Delight.

Luna had never wanted any of it. It was forced upon her. Lyme had been the first one to use her, when Luna had just discovered she was pregnant, back when Cato had been in the arena. They had decided — without asking her — that using their relationship would give Cato an edge over his competitor, the boy from District 11.

“I know,” Lyme murmured, her voice softer now. “It wasn’t your choice back then. But that’s why I’m asking you now — to offer, not to command.”

Luna exhaled slowly, shifting her grip on Juni. Her baby had lost interest in their conversation and was now playing with the fabric of her wrap.

“And what exactly are you asking?” Luna pressed.

Lyme hesitated for only a second.

“You know how powerful an image can be,” Lyme said, her voice purposeful.

Luna said nothing, her body tensing. She knew exactly where this was going.

“Your image…” Lyme continued, trailing off as if testing the waters, “it can be incredibly powerful. Especially now. The Capitol may have forced you into their spotlight, but that same recognition could work for us now. It could help the rebellion.”

Luna tensed, feeling her heart dropping to her belly.

“You want to use me.”

Of fucking course.

Lyme didn’t miss a beat.

“I want to help the rebellion win.”

She was glad she couldn’t move her neck, she wouldn’t have to pretend to want to look at her as Lyme spoke.

Luna kept her eyes on the children playing tag, her stomach twisting. She had spent years being paraded around, shaped into whatever narrative best suited the Capitol’s needs. And now — now the rebellion wanted to do the same?

“The people need to know what the Capitol does to victors,” Luna said quietly, her voice hard. “How they use us. How they break us into pieces, make us dance for their amusement, lay for their pleasure, then leave us to rot. How that pain seeps into our families, into everything we touch.”

She exhaled slowly, words stinging her tongue, but the bitterness was familiar.

“How they turned a favourite into someone willing to kill his wife and son?” she spat, her voice sharp and clipped, unable to hold back the fury anymore.

Lyme was silent for a moment before leaning in slightly.

“Luna,” she said, her voice steady, “I was the first person to see your state.”

Luna glanced at her, finding her expression darkened.

“I’ve never been so shocked in my life. I never thought someone could turn their hands on someone they claimed to love and do such harm. And if people saw what I saw…”

She trailed off.

Luna waited, her jaw tightening. If people saw what she saw, what? The anger would turn to pity? The Capitol’s people would suddenly feel compassion for someone from the districts? After nearly ninety years of the Hunger Games?

But Lyme didn’t finish her thought.

Instead, she exhaled and shifted slightly.

“You don’t have to do it,” she said finally. “No one will force you.”

Luna barely had time to process that before Lyme added-

“I spoke with some of the officials. We believe we might be able to secure another week’s worth of medicine for you. In a few days. If you agree.”

Luna instinctively moved to turn her neck and look at her, but a sharp pain shot through her spine, the brace holding her in place and she held a pained whimper.

Fuck.

"Perhaps something a bit stronger as well," Lyme added. "We can’t spare morphling, but… a higher dosage of what you were already using is possible."

Luna didn’t respond.

So that was their strategy, then. Take advantage of her pain, of the way it gnawed at her every waking moment, to push her into doing what they wanted.

"You don’t have to answer now," Lyme said, standing. "We’ll talk tomorrow. You can tell me then."

Luna exhaled slowly, adjusting Juni against her chest, eyes straight on the boys, unwilling to give Lyme the satisfaction of a reaction.

But still, her stomach twisted and flipped in all directions as Lyme walked away.

She watched the boys playing, laughing, kicking and punching the ball back and forth, trying to keep it in the air. She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to breathe. To calm down.

Of fucking course they were asking this of her. As if everything she’d already endured wasn’t enough.

But she didn’t even have time to dwell on it — someone was already approaching her again.

She looked up, expecting Lyme or maybe even Mum, but instead, she found herself staring at him.

Finnick Odair.

Tall, broad-shouldered, sun-kissed as always. Finnick fucking Odair.

Luna didn’t even react at first. She just stared.

"Hello, Luna," he greeted, flashing that famous smile. "May I sit?"

She kept staring.

What the fuck was Finnick Odair doing in front of her?

Her body tensed on instinct.

This couldn't be good.

"Sure," she mumbled

He settled beside her with an ease that was almost mocking, as if this were just a casual chat between friends and not a ploy to move her.

“I’m Finnick,” he said smoothly, flashing another one of his easy smiles. “I’ve heard many great things about you.”

Luna had to force her body to shift, wincing as she turned enough to look at him.

“I’ve sculpted you…” she paused, searching her memory. “Twelve times. Two busts of your face, three of your face and chest, and seven full bodies. Nine of them were gilded.”

The other three couldn’t afford gold.

Finnick smiled, looking either pleased or amused.

“I know,” he said, his voice dipping into something softer. “I’m quite familiar with your work. It’s admirable — I’ve never seen such talent before.”

Something inside her warmed at the words, despite everything.

Well. That was… very kind of him.

“Thank you,” she breathed out. “I didn’t know you were a rebel.”

“Always have been,” Finnick said, his voice low and steady. “From the moment I saw the Capitol for what it really is and experienced them with my own life.”

Juni squirmed in her wrap, searching for the voice speaking nearby. Luna shifted slightly, adjusting so her daughter could see Finnick.

“And hello,” he greeted warmly, his voice turning gentle. “Who is this beautiful little one?”

Juni wriggled, her tiny hand pushing out of the wrap, and to Luna’s surprise, Finnick immediately offered her his finger. A grin spread across his face when Juni latched on, gripping it with that baby strength.

“Juniper,” Luna introduced her. “She’s my youngest.”

“Hello, Juniper,” Finnick cooed, his tone full of exaggerated admiration. “Aren’t you the sweetest? And you look just like your mother. I hope I’m not intruding on your time together — I know you have quite a few brothers who cherish every second with you.”

Luna just watched him carefully.

So many compliments, so much charm... just another person sent to coax her into doing what the rebellion wanted.

“She’s very precious,” Finnick affirmed, looking up at her face again.

“She is,” Luna agreed.

Finnick nodded, his grin lingering as Juni curled her fingers more tightly around his. His other hand rested loosely on his knee, his posture relaxed — but Luna could tell. This was calculated. He was patient. He was waiting for her to settle, waiting for her guard to lower.

“She’s strong,” he noted, glancing up at Luna. “A good grip.”

A pause. Not an awkward one, but deliberate. He wasn’t pushing. Not yet.

“She’s lucky to have you,” he whispered, tilting his head a little. “All the children are. I was told, very vaguely, that you were the one who took Cato down.”

And there it was. Another soft approach. Another attempt to sway her.

“Yes,” Luna confirmed simply.

The silence settled between them for a long time, until Finnick cleared his throat.

“I am truly sorry for what happened to you, Luna,” he affirmed. “I only met Cato briefly. Even during the Games, we never really spoke or spent more than a few minutes in the same room.”

Luna watched him carefully, waiting for the rest.

“What he did to you is unjustifiable,” Finnick continued, his gaze steady. “And your response was the most logical thing. In your place, I don’t know if I would have been brave enough… but I’d hope the people in my life would be.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

Juni was still playing with Finnick’s hand, fascinated by the way his fingers moved, and Luna rubbed her daughter’s back without thinking, focusing on her.

Finnick hesitated.

“Did he… did he ever talk about the Capitol to you?” he asked. “About what he did there?”

“About them buying him?” she cut in. “Endlessly.”

His shoulders sagged slightly before he caught himself, straightening up again.

“It was his favourite thing to rub in my face,” Luna continued, voice flat. “How much he took for me. So I could live a good life.”

As if any of that had ever been her fault.

“It’s awful,” Finnick affirmed. “Truly awful, what they did to us.”

Luna paused. The word settled in her mind, sharp and heavy.

Us.

It didn’t happen with just Cato. It shouldn’t shock her, of course it was a big system of human exploitation. And still…

“They did to you?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice steady. “And Lyme. Enobaria — you must know her. Mags, my mentor, for many years… until she got married and had her children. Then she became less desirable. Lyme, too. She seemed glad to fade from the spotlight. But practically all of us — at some point — were sold. Some once or twice. Some, many times over the years… like me. Like Cato.”

Luna swallowed down, holding Juni a little closer to her, the threat that Cato had hovered over her head making itself known again.

Her children being a part of that system. Being forced into that nightmare.

“It’s horrific,” Finnick said, his voice quieter now. “My experiences were… well.” he let out a slow breath. “And I’m certain his weren’t much better.”

“They weren’t,” she mumbled.

Cato had thrown it all in her face more than once. The way they loved seeing him act like an animal. Some pre-historic beast, taking them violently. Some liked him bending and submitting for their entertainment. How they laughed as a man like him was forced to kneel, to lick floors, to press his lips to polished shoes.

And worse things too, things that she never wanted to recall.

“The rebels… we’re planning to hijack a transmission,” Finnick told her. His expression didn’t change, but there was something determined in his eyes. “I’ve already recorded my own statement. I talked about what happened to me, about the people who did it. The way they paid me with their secrets. The way they used me.”

Luna took a deep breath. Finnick slowly withdrew his hand, giving Juni space as her tiny face pressed into her mother’s chest. Luna adjusted the wrap, hoping she’d drift off to sleep.

“A lot of people have lived through what I have,” Finnick continued, his voice steady but weighted. “And we believe telling the world about it is going to make a difference.”

He exhaled, loudly, chuckling.

“It was… nerve-wracking, really. A little humiliating, to say aloud things I tried so hard to compartmentalise. I stepped out sweating like I’d been running for an entire day. And it was just as exhausting.”

Luna watched him, waiting. Yes, it sounded exhausting.

“But it’s worth it for me,” he said firmly. “People see someone they feel a connection with. They learn the truth about the evil they once cheered for. And I’m just one man. I can fight for myself, and I’m only fighting for myself.”

He glanced at her then, his expression unreadable.

“But you… you have nine little boys and a little girl,” he said. “Children the entire Capitol was hyped about meeting someday. The day your eldest stood for his first Reaping, I remember the cameras being on him the entire time. Caesar gushed about how much he looked like his father. And the same when your second boy came of age.”

Luna swallowed, unable to meet his eyes, and the bitterness spread thick on her tongue.

“They were already obsessing over them,” Finnick murmured, his voice quiet but sharp. “When they were nothing more than children. Innocent. Supposed to be out of their reach. All the while, they suffered because of them,” he added, his tone laced with something close to anger. “All the while, you — on your own — protected each and every one of them with everything you had in you.”

Luna blinked, trying to steady herself and to keep the fear from swallowing her whole. But her eyes burned anyway, hot with tears as that old, familiar terror pressed against her ribs.

“Suffering. Hidden. Alone,” Finnick said, his voice quiet but relentless. “All while they upheld the system — the very system — that caused your pain. That caused their pain and endangered them. You protected them with your own body. And now? They tell me you’re still trying to protect them, even when you’re hurt. Even when you’re hurt!”

She clutched Juni closer, as if holding her daughter could anchor her.

Did he think she would do anything different? That what she had done — what she was doing—was extraordinary?

These were her children. It was her duty to keep them safe, to ensure their lives were good, that they would never feel the weight of what she had suffered.

“You killed a man easily three times your size!” Finnick exclaimed. “For them!”

He let out a short huff of a laugh, shaking his head.

“You’d kill me for them. You’d kill Hawthorne over there,” he added, nodding toward the other man, his words laced with something almost light. But there was no mistaking the truth beneath them. “And you’ve made so many sacrifices for them, Luna. I know that.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, a tear slipping down her cheek before she could stop it.

“Don’t you think it’s time people know?” Finnick pressed, his voice quiet but urgent. “That they know the truth? What the Capitol does to good people? To a good mother who was only trying to protect her children — who nearly died because of their system, their actions?”

His green eyes burned with conviction as he leaned in just slightly, gaze locked on hers.

“That you’re seen as more than the Capitol’s Delight?” he asked, voice dropping almost to a whisper. “That people finally see the woman you truly are? A good mother who had to protect her children from their own father because to the Capitol, they were nothing but collateral damage?”

Luna swallowed hard, her throat tight. She gripped Juni just a little closer as if her daughter alone could steady her shaking hands.

She didn’t respond right away. Couldn’t.

Finnick let the silence stretch between them, but he didn’t look away. He just watched her, patient. Expectant.

She had spent so long being silent. So long keeping her head down, keeping her children safe, swallowing her own pain because there was no space for it — not when there were so many little lives depending on her.

But…

“I don’t need their pity,” she murmured, looking away.

She had received enough pity for a lifetime.

“This isn’t about pity,” Finnick countered. “It’s about power.”

“You took down Cato,” he reminded her. “You fought your way out. But the Capitol still owns the story,” he gestured, frustration flickering through his expression. “They can twist it. Make you into whatever they want you to be. A damsel in distress, kidnapped and held for ransom. A victim who needs saving!” his voice hardened. “They can use your image however they want — if you let them.”

Luna clenched her hands.

“This is your chance,” he pressed, voice unwavering. “To protect your children in the biggest way possible. To show everyone who you truly are — not whatever they made you to be.”

She raised her free hand, quickly wiping her face, trying to steady herself.

“I still need to think,” Luna warned him, her voice firm despite the weight in her chest. “This isn’t a decision to be made like this. You of all people should know that.”

Did they think they could push her into a decision like this in five minutes? Ten?

“Of course,” Finnick agreed easily, but he didn’t back away.

Luna took a deep breath, closing her eyes for just a moment, trying to collect herself. But before she could exhale, Juni let out a small whimper, pressing her face against Luna’s chest. The sound grew into a sharp, hungry cry — an honestly perfect cue for him to leave.

Finnick nodded solemnly to her.

“It was an honour to meet you, Luna,” he said. “I hope our paths cross again. I’ll give you privacy.”

Her mother approached swiftly, her gaze lingering on Finnick as he walked away. Luna focused on soothing Juni, waiting for help — she could do little on her own with the braces restricting her movements.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a shift in the room. Soldier Hawthorne silently stepped back as well, moving away to watch over the children instead of hovering over her shoulder.

She couldn’t help the pain that irradiated through her as they both worked on moving Juni and Luna into a doable feeding position, the weariness starting to set in her already.

It was going to be a long night.

. . .

Next Chapter: Epilogue (3/5) (on Patreon - Coming to Tumblr/AO3 on the 24th of August)

. . .

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[welldonebeca]

“no crew, no help, just pure hustle” cut to this poor woman bawling her eyes out. what the fuck is wrong with people? why is this being framed as a good or impressive feat? this person makes below poverty wages already. Burger King meanwhile takes in $27 billion in global revenue every single year. everyone involved in making this woman endure this should be tortured and force fed chicken fries until their heart gives out. fuck this country.

[welldonebeca]

[welldonebeca]

[welldonebeca]

bloodbrothers (21)

WC: 4.2k words Warnings: Modern AU. Tension. Fluff. Set in September 2023

Read chapter 1 now Previous chapter: Chapter 20 

masterlist

School was pretty normal — it was, most days. Studying in Winterfell was a little different from New Valyria, mostly because education was focused on Westerosi stuff, but because his family was in both continents, Jace always got taught things from both sides, so it was fine.

Still, he had learned a lot about the North since moving there — about Winterfell’s history, the free folk, the old gods... That part was actually pretty cool.

He was mostly just glad it was almost over. Just a couple more months until graduation, and then he could move on.

“We need to pick a colour!” Baela insisted over the call, her voice crackling slightly through the speakers as Jace made a turn.

“Why can’t we just go with black and red?” he asked, one hand on the wheel.

They were planning a party — a proper celebration for their graduation. Since Jace was in Westeros and the girls were back in New Valyria, their official ceremonies weren’t going to be on the same day, which in the end, was kind of a blessing. It meant the whole family — yes, all of them, Targaryens and Velaryons alike — could fly out for Jace’s graduation in the North in November, and then head back with him, and the girls' graduation would be in December.

Still, it wasn’t quite the same. They wouldn’t get to walk together, wear the same gowns, throw their caps into the same sky.

So, a party. That would be their shared moment — something just for them. Those were his sisters! They’d been in the same class for years.

They needed to celebrate together!

“It’s way too Targaryen!” Rhaena groaned, and Jace could hear her flopping on the bed.

Jace snorted. Well, yeah. But what was their collective surname again?

“We are Targaryens,” Baela shot back, tone already defensive.

“Yeah, exactly, which is why we don’t need to wear the family crest everywhere we go!” Rhaena countered, exasperated.

Jace rolled his eyes, easing the car forward as he reached the line at the coffee shop drive-thru.

“I’m not wearing pink,” Baela announced firmly, as if anyone had dared suggest it.

“We can just do red,” Jace offered, trying to bring in some peace. “Red and white. And Rhaena, you can wear pink if you want.”

There was a pause.

“You know I don’t even wear pink that much, right?” Rhaena said.

Eh… he was pretty sure she did.

“You sure argue like you do,” Baela muttered.

“I argue because you’d turn us all into living sigils,” Rhaena snapped back.

Jace chuckling under his breath, pulling up to the order window.

“I’m turning the volume down to order. Don’t kill each other while I’m gone,” he warned.

“Aw, but you didn’t even ask if I wanted any—” Baela started, but he cranked the volume all the way down without mercy.

Nope. Not doing that again. Last time, the employee assumed Baela was in the car and added her order — even though she was on an entirely different continent. He was not repeating that conversation.

“Good afternoon,” he said into the speaker. “Can I get a… large number five, a large number eight, and… is number three just hot chocolate?”

“We can add marshmallows to it as well,” the employee offered.

He hesitated. Did Arra like marshmallows?

“A large one, please. Any way to have it on the side?”

Clicking noises came through the speaker. “Sure! Anything else?”

“Two bagel sandwiches, two cinnamon rolls, and… two chocolate cupcakes.”

That covered at least three different food groups. Arra had to like one of them.

“That’s all?”

“Yep. Thank you.”

“You can pull forward to the next window.”

“Thanks.”

Jace turned the volume back up just in time to hear a chorus of taunting voices:

“Jace! Jace! Jace! Jace! Jace! Jace!”

He sighed, half-smiling as he pulled ahead.

“Yes, I’m back,” he confirmed. “And you’re both alive, I see.”

“Eh, I don’t wanna be arrested,” Baela quipped.

“Where are you going?” Rhaena asked, ignoring her. 

Jace pulled the car by the window and reached for his wallet.

“Going to see Cregan,” he said casually.

“With three drinks?” Rhaena’s tone was all suspicion.

He froze.

Oh.

Jace opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. Failed.

Damn it. They were too smart for their own good.

“It’s for Harwin,” he lied, a little too quickly. “The bagels too.”

“He likes cold coffee?” Baela asked, deadpan.

Jace blinked slowly.

“Yeah? Don’t judge him.”

Both girls snorted.

Oh, he was glad they couldn't see him. 

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, steering the conversation again. “Party. Did we decide on a colour?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Red,” Baela chimed in, pleased.

“With white,” Rhaena added.

Good. That was something, at least.

“Pool?” he asked. “Yes or no?”

“Oh, pool!” Rhaena said quickly, already excited.

“No pool!” Baela groaned. “I wanna look pretty! I don’t wanna get wet! And our birthday’s already a pool party.”

Jace gasped dramatically as he handed over his card.

“How fucking cruel of you,” he said, mock-wounded. “And you’re not even inviting me!”

“You’re the one who decided to move to frozen hell,” Rhaena shot back. “Not our fault.”

He rolled his eyes but gave the employee a polite smile as he took the food, carefully arranging the cups and bags.

“Thank you,” he said, then turned back to the call. “Well, you were the ones who decided to be born in the middle of the school year. Couldn’t you wait?”

“I don’t think that was biologically possible,” Baela snorted.

He just smirked.

Well… yeah.

Anyway.

“Fine, no pool,” he clicked his tongue. “Gazebo?”

There was a pause. Then Baela made a noncommittal noise.

“Meh. What about the basement?”

Jace considered it.

“How many people are we inviting? I don’t think the basement fits that many.”

Silence. A beat of thinking.

“You bringing anyone from over there?” Baela asked.

“What, you gonna pay for their plane tickets?” Jace shot back before he could stop himself.

Silence again. But this time, heavier.

“You’re not bringing Cregan?” Rhaena asked, too casually.

Jace stared at his phone.

Oh, shit.

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “But he’s coming with us. In the jet.”

“Oh!” Baela said brightly. “Well, that makes sense then.”

He grimaced, relieved they couldn’t see his face.

Gods, he really needed to figure out how he was going to tell his family.

Jace glanced at the GPS — he was getting close to the park.

“Alright, I gotta go,” he said. “You two sort out the guest list, send it to me, and I’ll see who I wanna add.”

“Bye!” the girls echoed in unison.

Jace hung up, finishing the short drive in quiet. He parked in front of the park, slipped on an extra layer, wrapped his scarf back around his neck, and carefully gathered the bag of goodies and the thick paper tray of drinks. Cregan’s car was already there.

The park was covered and heated — honestly, a genius idea for a place where kids needed to burn energy without freezing to death. Jace couldn’t imagine being five and trying to enjoy a slide while his fingers went numb.

When he stepped inside, he spotted Arra on the swings, speaking happily to a tiny bundled-up figure he was pretty sure was Rickon. Cregan was standing nearby, hands in his pockets, watching them both with that quiet smile of his, and it was just then there.

He could see why they had come here – there was silence and sunlight, indeed.

“Jace!” Cregan called, turning to him and drawing Arra’s gaze up as well.

Jace smiled at them, lifting the bag and tray in greeting.

“Hope I didn’t take too long,” he said. “But I brought snacks.”

Arra smiled softly, and Cregan stepped over to take Rickon from her arms. Jace handed her the bag first, then passed her the hot chocolate.

“There’s some marshmallows in there too, if you wanna add them,” he offered.

Her face lit up.

“That is so nice, thank you!”

She pulled a cupcake from the bag, then a cinnamon bun, before handing it back to Cregan. He nodded toward one of the benches, and they walked over together. Cregan set his coffee down beside him, offering Jace a grateful smile as he joined him.

“Thanks,” he said. “We don’t really get to go out much these days.”

Jace returned the smile, his eyes drifting to Rickon, nestled quietly against his father’s chest.

“He got his hepatitis and DTaP shots yesterday,” Cregan explained, glancing down at the baby with a soft sigh. “You wouldn’t believe how much he cried — basically the whole day. We still can’t even touch his leg.”

“Aw, poor little man,” Jace lamented, taking a sip of his coffee. “How are you two holding up?”

Cregan exhaled slowly, cheeks puffing out. He looked truly worn out — more than Jace had ever seen.

“Well… it’s a full house,” he said dryly.

Jace grimaced in sympathy.

“Your folks not giving you a break?” he asked.

Cregan shook his head.

“They barely ever leave our side,” he said. “Or our house.”

His eyes flicked over to Arra, and Jace followed it.

She was still on the swing, gently rocking back and forth, sipping her hot chocolate with both hands wrapped around the cup like it was the only warm thing in the world. Her eyes were soft, unfocused, her whole body slack with something that looked an awful lot like relief.

“She looks like she can breathe,” Jace said quietly.

Cregan gave a quiet chuckle, tired but fond.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s the first time I’ve seen her like that in weeks.”

There was a beat of silence between them.

“Ever think about just running off?” Jace asked, half-joking. “Just the three of you.”

Cregan looked at him, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

“Every damn day,” he said, looking down at Rickon. “Think I can borrow that jet of yours? Maybe head up north to the old Wall, disappear for a bit?”

Jace smirked.

“Ever heard of a car? Might be a bit more budget and nature friendly. And it'll probably take less time.”

Besides, there was a whole superstition about flying over the wall, he was pretty sure most pilots didn’t do that.

Cregan let out a soft chuckle through his nose.

“Yeah, well,” he rubbed Rickon’s little back in circles. “Not quite as dramatic, is it?”

Jace chuckled, stretching his legs out and nudging Cregan’s boot lightly.

“Fair. But ‘Young parents flee in stolen luxury jet’ makes for a better headline.”

Another beat of silence passed before Cregan let out a long sigh.

“I know they mean well,” he said quietly. “It’s just… a lot. Everything’s new, and we can’t even figure it out for ourselves. They’re always there with their ‘five babies and two bonuses’ wisdom, like we’re doing it wrong before we even start. It’s our baby, you know?”

Jace nodded slowly.

Yeah, that sounded exhausting.

He couldn’t even imagine it — having his own place, his own kid, and still not getting the space to figure things out. The idea of someone else practically moving in, hovering over every little decision, trying to make the rules in his house? Yeah. No thanks.

Jace turned, catching Cregan awkwardly trying to shift Rickon with one arm while sipping his drink with the other — doing it with an exaggerated movement like he was trying to keep the cup as far away from the baby as humanly possible.

He chuckled.

“Want me to grab the pram?” he offered.

Cregan looked up, his whole face turning a shade redder as he set the cup aside.

“Uncle Ned said he once spilled coffee on one of the kids,” he mumbled. “It was cold, but he panicked and thought he’d burned them.”

Jace huffed a laugh.

Gods, parents were insane.

“It’s fine,” he said, still smiling. “You’re protecting him.”

Absolutely nuts.

He got up, gave Arra a quick smile as he passed her, and rolled the pram over to Cregan, locking the wheels so he could place Rickon inside. Cregan adjusted the blankets quickly, not even seeming to think about it as he did, tucking the baby in. 

“There we go,” he murmured, brushing his fingers over the soft fabric as Rickon let out a little whine and squirmed. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he cooed, quickly unlocking the pram and rocking it back and forth with his foot. “I know. I know. How dare I move you?”

Rickon squirmed a little more, and Cregan covered his little foot again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Cregan hummed gently as the baby began to settle again. “I know. I know.”

Cregan finally picked up his coffee again, taking a long, relieved sip while still gently rocking the pram with his foot.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on Rickon.

It took Jace a second to realise the thanks was meant for him — until Cregan looked up and met his eyes.

“It’s no problem,” Jace replied quickly, a little caught off guard.

Cregan eased the rocking motion, slowing his foot before carefully pulling it back, his eyes never blinking away from the baby. Even Jace held his breath, watching to see how Rickon would take it.

The baby boy blinked slowly, big brown eyes scanning the world around him, then settled quietly into his little cocoon of blankets. No fuss. No tears. Just calm, curious silence.

“He seems like an adorable handful,” Jace murmured.

Cregan chuckled.

“You know, I feel like he’s actually the easiest part,” he said. “Maybe ’cause I’m not the one doing the feeding. I’m the Cleaning King, though. She handles what goes in, I deal with what comes out.”

Jace snorted.

“Sounds glamorous.”

Cregan grinned, digging into the bag and taking one of the cupcakes and bagel sandwich.

“You have no idea,” he said with a laugh that was warm and a little tired. “But what about you? How’s school?”

“It’s alright,” Jace replied, leaning back. “Sending endless shit to Dragonstone Academy every week.”

Cregan looked confused.

“I thought you were already in?”

“I am,” Jace confirmed, rolling his eyes. “They just never stop asking for stuff. Forms, essays, projects — feels like they want a piece of my soul every other day.”

He sighed. It was tiring.

Jace was a legacy acceptance. A long line of Velaryon and Targaryen men and women had gone to Dragonstone Academy since its very foundation — something about breaking the Maesters’ monopoly on education and making sure their bloodline wouldn't be manipulated by the Reach or their politics.

“They’re trying to figure out where to place me,” he explained. “What honours I might qualify for, which prior credits count... all that crap.”

Cregan let out a laugh.

“So… like every other college?” he teased. “I guess nepotism doesn’t take you everywhere.”

Jace rolled his eyes but smiled into his drink.

“Yeah,” he said with a small chuckle. “Guess the name isn’t everything, Lord Stark.”

Cregan snorted. Well, not like he didn’t rely on that name a lot, right?

“Touché. Fine.”

They were both smiling as Jace pecked on his own bagel sandwich.

“It’s a good place,” Cregan offered. “And it’s close to the castle.”

“Yeah,” Jace nodded. “Vermax is gonna love it.”

“He will.”

He chuckled a little bit when he remembered his cat.

“And you know he’s crazy for Dreamfyre,” he pointed out. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Cregan laughed. “That cat had a full-blown crush.”

Jace grinned wider, already picturing it. Yeah… that was definitely going to be a funny adjustment once they all lived together.

“You think Helaena will mind?” Cregan asked.

Jace shrugged.

“I think she’ll be happy as long as Dreamfyre is happy,” he told him. “But she seems excited to go, too. Waiting around for a year is annoying her quite a bit.”

It had been Alicent’s idea — she didn’t want Helaena going to college alone, so she made her wait until Aemond was ready, insisting they go together. Helaena had hated the plan, but in the end, Grandpa had managed to talk her into accepting it.

Jace thought it was ridiculous. Helaena was an adult. She had all the support anyone could ask for, and she wanted to go — was ready to go.

Still… he had to admit it was kind of nice they’d be starting together. He liked being closer to her.

When he turned to look at him, and Cregan was looking at him with a little bit of a frown, as if trying to read him. Still, he said nothing, and they ate together quietly for a bit, until Arra came to them with a little smile.

“I can keep an eye on him,” she said, focusing on Cregan with a knowing look. “Go stretch your legs.”

Jace raised his eyebrows, trying not to look too surprised as she pulled the pram toward the swings, sitting down and gently cooing at Rickon right away.

Cregan stood up, stretching his arms.

“Think we do a few aimless circles?” he offered.

Jace chuckled. If that’s what he wanted…

“Sure,” he shrugged, grabbing his coffee.

Cregan pointed toward a winding path that looked like it was meant for kids to ride their bikes on, and they followed it side by side, quiet for a while.

“You got any work lately?” Cregan asked.

Jace glanced up at him.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Actually got a shoot that gave me a really good winter jacket. I can’t believe I survived so long without one.”

Cregan snorted.

“Gotta make sure you don’t freeze to death,” he teased. “Good pay?”

“Great pay,” Jace confirmed. “I think I’ll be able to get my own car once I’m at Dragonstone.”

Cregan let out a low hum, sounding pleased.

“A company wants to sponsor me,” he said. “Online. Some… influencer hair shit.”

Jace glanced up at him — and at his hair.

“You do have good hair,” he pointed out.

“I do,” Cregan agreed, completely unbothered. “I think they’re gonna send stuff over in a few days for some posts. Then I’ll shoot with them next month.”

Jace nodded. That sounded good.

“You’ve got the hair for it,” he added. “I can mention you, if you want?”

“Oh — I can’t,” Jace said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s some… legal thing. But thanks.”

That earned him a confused look from Cregan.

“A conflict? With a hair company?”

He shrugged, wincing a little.

“My parents have a hair company,” he said, then paused. “I think I have it too?” Well… kinda.

They didn’t run it, not exactly — it was one of those companies where they were listed as owners, but someone else actually knew what they were doing in the market and headed it.

Cregan kept staring at him, eyebrows lifting higher.

“When Eggy was little, Kepa couldn’t find purple shampoo that wouldn’t burn his eyes,” Jace explained. “So he had a company made.”

He’d lost count of how many times Kepa showed up with new purple shampoos to test — literally pouring them into his own eyes to make sure it wouldn’t hurt the baby. Every single time he tried with purple shampoo, he walked out of the bathroom with his eyes red and watering. None of them were baby friendly.

So, something something, ‘can’t spent another eight years bent over a bathtub washing kids’ hairs’ and he made a company, yeah. A very classic Targaryen move.

Jace was pretty sure that once he turned twenty-one, some part of that company was going to be handed over to him with his trust fund.

Cregan blinked at him, stunned.

“You…” he started, then stopped. “You know what, I’m not even surprised. You people are… yeah. Not surprised.”

They started walking again, quiet for a second, and Jace just shrugged to himself.

Yeah. That was his family.

“You should try the influencer thing,” he said, circling back to it. “They work from home a lot. It’s gonna help you with Rickon.”

Cregan nodded along.

“Yeah, it’s why I said yes,” he shrugged. “It’s money. You have no idea how much we’ve already spent on him — and he’s, like, a month old! Did you know babies need supplements? Every single day.”

Jace blinked. Wait, really?

Wasn’t milk supposed to have everything already?

“Vitamin D and iron, every day,” Cregan pointed out. “And Arra’s taking extra Vitamin C and B7 daily, B6 weekly…”

“Isn’t that what food is for?” Jace asked, genuinely confused.

Cregan gave him a look.

“You think babies come out chewing spinach?” he asked, deadpan. “He can’t even hold his head up, Jacaerys.”

Jace blinked again, lips parting, before he slowly shook his head.

Alright, yeah, not his area of expertise.

“Okay, yeah, fair,” he admitted, vaguely horrified. “Gods. How are there so many of us alive if babies are that fragile?”

Cregan huffed a tired laugh.

“Because parents live in a constant state of panic!” he said, eyes wide. “Do you know how many articles I’ve read about blankets? Apparently, blankets are just murder cloths. You can’t put anything in the crib — babies can choke on air, practically. Under it, over it, around it, if it so much as touches them: dead!”

Jace raised his eyebrows but didn’t interrupt. Cregan was on a roll now.

“And then people say we’re supposed to have lives beyond just making sure that tiny human doesn’t die! Like, yeah, sure, go take a nap — but also wake him up every two hours to feed him or he might not wake up at all! Too much sleep — yep, that can kill him too!”

Jace processed that.

Cribs. Blankets. Sleep. All deadly. Got it.

“And don’t even get me started on car seats,” Cregan added. “Or clothes. Or hair strands — did you know a single loose hair can wrap around a finger or toe and cut off circulation?”

Jace slowly turned to look at him, horrified.

“…How are you alive?”

He would’ve had a heart attack from sheer anxiety by now.

Cregan gave him a very serious look.

“If I die, they go to Arra’s parents. You don’t want them to go to Arra’s parents, Jacaerys. My Uncle and Aunt are infuriating enough.”

Jace closed his mouth shut. Yep, yeah. He got that.

Cregan looked back at Arra and Rickon, his eyes softening as he let out a long breath.

For a moment, his gaze drifted far away, and Jace found himself watching him in silence.

This was Cregan’s life now. Rickon. And, in a way, Arra too.

Even if they never became anything more than friends — even if they stayed just roommates raising a child — this was their world now. The three of them.

Jace’s shoulders dropped, though not in defeat.

Cregan could make space for him. He knew that.

But… he wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

Not because he didn’t care.

He did — deeply. There was affection, a quiet loyalty, the kind of warmth that made him smile without meaning to.

But he didn’t want to step into that. He didn’t want to wedge himself into a picture already painted.

He wanted to be Uncle Jace, the way Elinda was Aunt Elinda — joyful, beloved, free… a friend of Mum who adored them, but didn’t have any duties towards them and sometimes babysat as long as there was a teen around too, so she wasn’t alone with a kid and clueless. 

He wasn’t Uncle Joffrey, he wasn’t cut for this extra parent thing.

“You want an excuse to go for a walk again in a couple days?” Jace offered.

Cregan looked at him like he’d just handed him a life raft.

“Oh, please,” he said, exhaling. “Even if it’s just fifteen minutes.”

A soft whine echoed around them, and Jace glanced toward the pram. Arra was bent over it, cooing softly to Rickon — but the baby was already starting to fuss.

Cregan let out a quiet groan.

“I guess that’s my cue,” he muttered, then looked back at Jace with a tired, crooked smile.

Jace gave him a small smile.

“Baby wants what baby wants,” he said with a chuckle. “I get it.”

Cregan nodded, and they both stepped in — hugging each other without thinkign twice. 

No kiss, no lingering question. Just a hug.

Just friends. Not boyfriends anymore.

“It was good to see you,” Jace said as he pulled back, his voice soft but sincere.

“Thank you for coming out,” Cregan replied. “We needed this.”

“It’s no problem, really. I hope it helped.”

“It did,” Cregan said, and he meant it.

Jace nodded firmly.

“Do you want a ride home?” he offered.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I parked nearby,” Cregan said, gesturing vaguely down the street.

Jace nodded again.

“Alright then. Good to see you,” he added, offering a small smile. “And… good luck with your folks.”

Cregan gave a nod in return, a quiet thank-you in his eyes.

Jace waved at Arra as well before turning toward his car, tossing his empty coffee cup into the bin as he went. They followed behind, slowly, still talking softly between themselves.

He could’ve offered to help with the car — maybe carry something, hold Rickon — but…

It was their family. Their little unit. They looked like they had it handled.

So Jace just slid into the driver’s seat and pulled away, silence wrapping around him as the car filled with the soft hum of the road — and his own thoughts.

Harwin was still at work when Jace got home, and Vermax looked entirely content sprawled across the couch, basking in the high heat of the living room.

Jace dropped into the armchair across from him, watching as the big lazy furball stretched even further, claiming the space like a dragon king.

Jacaerys tilted his head a bit, eyes on his cat while the weight of his phone in his pocket suddenly felt heavier than before.

He sighed.

Alright…

Yeah, time to do it.

He pulled his phone with a deep breath, thumb hovering for a second before he checked the time and scrolled through for Dad’s number.

He was probably home by now.

Jace hit the dial and leaned back into the couch, the warmth from the room settling around him as the phone rang once, twice—

“My boy,” dad greeted. “Good afternoon!”

“Hey, dad,” he exhaled. “I… uh… I’m calling for a little life update. About Cregan and I.”

. . .

“Bloodbrothers” is a modern lovers to friends AU, and is fully posted on my Patreon. To read it all now consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month for early access to everything I do and exclusive access to some works, and I promise you won’t regret it.

…

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​ @amythyststorm33​​ @shaelyn102​​ @yknott81​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​ @kgbrenner​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @magpiegirl80​ @mogaruke​ @shadowhunter7​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​ @deemoriarty​​ @05spn18​​ @malindacath​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​ @widowsfics​​ @frozenhuntress67​​ @averyrogers83​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​ @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

Next Chapter: Chapter 22

. . .

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Jace's campaign with Calvin Klein inspires Helaena to buy a curious skirt. It's a domino effect, really. (How exactly the twins were conceived.) (Set in December 2024, about a month-ish before "rūhossa, muña, kepa")

rūhossa, muña, kepa

Helaena has a dream about two kids. Her kids. “Jace, I need you to buy me a pregnancy test.” (Set in January 2025)

Divinely Divorced (on Patreon now) — Coming to Tumblr/AO3 on September 2025

Summary: Two weeks before Jace's wedding, Cregan learns that apparently they'd been married all along because of their pact. Now, they need a divine divorce. It's not gonna be exactly easy. Or normal. A Cregan-Centred sequel set in January and February 2025

the wedding of the century (on Patreon now) — Coming to Tumblr/AO3 on October 2025

On the 15th of February of 2025, Jacaerys and Helaena get married, and the two sides of the Targaryen family try to come together peacefully to celebrate the occasion. Nothing like a wedding to drag everyone back into civility and out of a few messes they got themselves into.

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Bail Organa + costumes

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A Perfect Match (7)

Rosetta II

Chapter summary: Rosetta notices Lord Dean Winchester's interest towards her sister, but misses Mr Samuel's interest on her. WC: 1.3k words Warnings: Regency AU. Fluff. Teasing. Flirting.

Masterlist

Read Chapter 1 Previous chapter: Chapter 6

The way Ravenna’s cheeks pinked when her eyes met Lord Winchester’s and the way he looked at her with such a deep interest and hunger was something Rosetta had never seen in her life.

Now, she and her sister were different as people. Ravenna was very intelligent, a true lady, filled with knowledge and prepared to build a family and an empire that would make the Matarazzo name renowned for centuries. But Rosetta knew people, she understood society, and most importantly, she knew her sister.

Venna had never blushed so deeply with a man. Actually, no man had ever broken through her stiff exterior and her habit of acting much older than herself when she was just a maiden. Right then, Lord Winchester was doing that, and it made her sister truly look like a maiden.

Rosetta wasn’t going to let that pass! He was exactly what she needed.

“We've just been enjoying a delightful stroll through the gardens. Would the two of you care to join us?” Lord Winchester offered.

She didn’t hold her smile, and her brain thought ever quicker when her sister took in a deep breath, ready to answer him.

Oh, no, she was not gonna let her tell him off.

“Actually, my sister and I were just speaking of how much I enjoyed my turn around the lake,” she interjected brightly.

Venna elbowed her on the ribs, and when she looked at her, she was glaring at her.

Silly Venna.

“But we weren’t eager to tire our grandfather out so soon, you must understand,” she continued. “Even if she would adore a chance of doing so.”

Lord Winchester’s forest green eyes brightened up right away at the clear proposition she was putting in front of him.

“It would be a delight to bring you on a turn, Miss Matarazzo,” Lord Winchester suggested.

Ravenna’s glare intensified on both her and the man, but Rosetta could easily calm her after.

She would thank her later.

He whisked her sister away, and she waved her older sister a goodbye when she glanced back at her, absolutely annoyed.

Rosetta had completely forgotten about Mister Winchester until he cleared his throat.

Oh, he was still there.

Mister Winchester was possibly the tallest man she’d ever set her sights on, and he looked so… green and young, compared to his brother.

“Miss Rosetta,” he greeted her, and she wasn’t quite sure if that was the first or second time he did it, she was so focused on Ravenna and his brother she completely missed him.

“Mr Winchester,” she curtsied to him quickly.

He said nothing, and she tried not to frown. Well? What was he doing?

“May we have a stroll?” he offered.

Mister Winchester wasn’t ugly by any means, he was quite handsome, but he looked at her so strangely, like he was perpetually stunned.

And he was so… puppy looking,

“Sure,” she decided.

It wouldn’t hurt.

He offered her an arm, and when she hooked hers to rest fully on his, Mr Winchester was so comically tall she had to settle with just resting her hand on his forearm.

And what a strong forearm it was.

He was quite brave, wasn’t he? Rushing to them that way, bypassing any kind of propriety to introduce himself.

Rosetta was going to take her time, sweet time with the men of London, she was in no rush of finding a husband for herself. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying her suitors.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he spoke up, taking her mind back to him. “Miss Rosetta.”

She looked up at him, and Mister Winchester’s cheeks were so pink, though he seemed to refuse looking at her face.

“It is wonderful to meet you as well, sir,” she agreed.

And silence.

She breathed in, looking at the lake. Oh, she hoped his brother was much better at talking.

It was a true stroll that they took, because Mister Winchester didn’t even open his mouth as they stepped around, followed by her grandmother.

“So, Mister Winchester,” she cleared her throat, trying to break the silence. “How long have you been back from your studies?”

He had just graduated, hadn’t he?

Mister Winchester looked at her with big eyes.

“A few… hours,” he replied slowly, seeming a bit embarrassed. “I’ve arrived in London early today from Oxford.”

She didn’t quite fully processed his words aside from the last word, nodding a little bit.

“Is it a nice place?” Rosetta asked. “I don’t know many English scholars.”

Or any, in fact.

She also didn’t know anything about English universities.

“It was quite challenging,” Mr Winchester told her.

“I’m sure you were quite dedicated,” she smiled politely, looking around the garden for a familiar face, and lit up when a man walked in their direction. “And proved yourself to be accomplished. Congratulations.”

A grey haired man approached them with a bit of a smile, making the both pause, and he nodded to Mr Winchester.

“Samuel,” he greeted with his hands behind his back. “I didn’t know you had returned.”

She watched them quietly.

Samuel, that was his name.

“I just arrived,” he explained. “Dean was excited to come out to the garden, I couldn’t say no.”

The grey-haired man looked at her, expectant, and Mr Winchester cleared his throat.

“This is my new friend, Miss Rosetta Matarazzo,” he explained. “Miss Rosetta, this is Lord Shurley, an old family friend.”

She curtsied politely.

“Pleased to meet you, Lord Shurley,” Rosetta greeted.

Lord Shurley looked at her with a lot of interest. He wasn’t a young man by any stretch of the word — he actually seemed to be in his 60s, though not too old.

“Matarazzo?” he asked, frowning a little bit.

“From Genova, sir,” Rosetta informed him.

He raised his eyebrows for just a moment.

“Lord and Lady Pembroke’s granddaughter,” he realised. “I’ve heard of your presence, Miss Rosetta. Lord Pembroke wouldn’t ever stop talking about you and your sister since he got the correspondence saying you had left Genoa.”

She tried not to look annoyed at his very wrong way of saying the name of her home. The English always butchered her name and anything about where she was from.

“I must part with you now, Miss Rosetta, Samuel,” Lord Shurley told them, smiling discreetly. “I hope to see you two again soon.”

“Goodbye, sir,” she smiled.

Well, he looked very kind.

“Goodbye,” Mr Winchester nodded to him.

Lord Shurley left them both alone, and Rosetta raised her eyebrows when Me Winchester tried to cover his yawn.

“Tired, sir?” she asked.

He looked a bit embarrassed.

“It was a long trip,” he explained himself. “Forgive me.”

Oh, of course. And he had just arrived, after all.

“What got you out of the house so soon?” she asked. “It was a tiring journey, I’m sure.”

She had had a whole night of sleep and was still tired, she couldn’t imagine arriving home and already getting out of the house.

But Mr Winchester chuckled.

“Well, my brother seemed eager to come find something in the garden,” he told her. “Or someone.”

Rosetta turned right to him, surprised.

“He came after my sister?” she asked.

Was that why they were so familiar to one another?

“I believe so,” he told her.

“So they’ve met?” she pressed. “It’s why he was so eager to come find us?”

But how could they have met? Venna only left the house because she had insisted she come along to the gardens.

“He might,” he told her. “But Dean hadn’t said anything.”

Rosetta pondered this new information. If Lord Winchester had known Ravenna from before, it explained his immediate interest in her.

They stopped by the pier, and Lord Winchester’s stopped his boat by it, and Ravenna’s face was burning pink, and she curtsied very quickly to him before rushing to her.

“Mr Winchester,” Rosetta curtsied quickly, right before Venna did the same.

“It was nice meeting you both,” Mr Winchester told them both. “Miss Matarazzo. Miss Rosetta.”

Her sister hooked her arm through hers and rushed them out and away from them.

“You know him?!” Rosetta asked in a hush.

Venna looked at her with wide eyes, shushing her right away, and then looked around.

“Well, not here,” she hissed. “I’ll tell you at home!”

…

“A Perfect Match” is a slow born Regency AU, and was posted on my Patreon in 2024 and is in its final arc. To have early access to 68 chapters now, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month for early access to everything I do and exclusive access to some works, and I promise you won’t regret it.

…

Next chapter: Chapter 8: Sam II

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​ @amythyststorm33​​ @shaelyn102​​ @yknott81​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​ @kgbrenner​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @magpiegirl80​ @mogaruke​ @shadowhunter7​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​ @deemoriarty​​ @05spn18​​ @malindacath​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​ @widowsfics​​ @frozenhuntress67​​ @averyrogers83​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​ @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega Supernatural tags: @its-daydreamer23 @imagefanfictionlover @smalltowndivaj @tayrae515 @afanofmanystuffs @oneshoeshort @andkatiethings @wakanda-sometimes @akshi8278 @xoxabs88xox @izbelross @isabelle-faith @flamencodiva @lyarr24

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Music Acrostic

Rules: Pick a song for every letter in your Tumblr URL and tag others to do the same

Tagged By: @locke-writes (thank you! I always love picking songs for these)

Work Song, by Hozier

Ease My Mind, by Ben Platt

Lithium, by Evanescence

Like Real People Do, by Hozier

Die With a Smile, by Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars

One of Us, by Abba

No Me Compares, by Alexandro Sanz

Eu Sou Problema Meu, by Clarisse Falcão

Bem Pior Que Eu, by Marília Mendonça

Elephant Gun, by Beirut

Coney Island, by Taylor Swift & The National

Apesar de Você, by Chico Buarque

Tagging (No Pressure): @fandoms-run-my-life @cosmic-cris-draws @that-one-girl401 and whoever else would like to!