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yutopia-eleftheria · 6 months ago

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Saint Seiya Oméga OC : Tokisaki

This is a Remaster of the First One, with an Official Template I created, a slight redesign of my OC, and most importantly, her full story/integration in the story of Oméga.

it was tough drawing in the style of the animé ngl...

Horologium Tokisaki (Hororogiumu no Tokisaki) is the Silver Saint of the Horologium constellation in Saint Seiya Omega. She is said to be co-governing the Eternity and the Time. Tokisaki can use the element of Water as well as Air.

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"Anthem" : Invincible - Kelly Clarkson

Japanese Name : Hororogiumu no Tokisaki

Side : Athena

Groups : Saints ; Athena's Army (Oméga) ; Saints (Oméga) ; Silver Saints (Oméga)

Protection : Cloth

Totem : Horologium

Element(s) : Water, Air

Gender : Born Female ; Genderfluid

Birthday : January 26th

Zodiac Sign : Aquarius

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Full Name : Tokisaki Nikolaidis Kiyomizu

Name Origin : Japanese

Name Meaning : From Japanese "Toki" meaning "Time"

From Japanese "Saki" meaning "Rare Blossoming" or "Rice Wine Saké"

Nickname(s) : Toki (rarely because it is also her brother's nickname), Saki (by her family to distinct the 2)

Age : 20 years old

Species : Runescale

Place of Birth : Nara, Japan

Sexuality : Androgynosexual

Nationality : Greek & Japanese

Residence : Athens, Greece

Nara, Japan (she grew up there)

MBTI : ENTJ (Commander/Captain)

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Appearance :

Eyes : Light Green (Right Eye)

Dark Purplish Pink (Left Eye)

Hair : Pale Green

Skin : Slightly Tanned

Height : 5'10" (178 cm)

Weight : 157 lbs (71 kg)

Special Traits : A purplish clock replacing her left pupil (coming from her powers)

Additional Olive Green Hair that once belongs to her older brother. He did that because their father had that hair color and he unfortunately died the day of Tokisaki's birth.

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Family and Relatives :

Parents : Bellanca Nikolaidis Kiyomizu {Mother}

Hideki Kiyomizu {Father} (deceased)

Siblings : Tokisada {Older Brother}

Significant Other : Virgo Fudô

Best Friend(s) : Paradox (her brother's significant other), Integra, Schiller

Gets Along Well With : Kiki, Mycenae (father figure, she thought it was her real father for a moment, it's probably the hair that does that), Sonia (used to ship her brother with her for no reason whatsoever), Seiya, Ionia (a teacher to the siblings, and therefore a grandfather figure), Amor, Saturn (her brother's other significant other)

Doesn't Get Along Well With : Medea (despises her for what she did to her brother)

She is okay with Harbinger and she respects him now that he is the Great Pope. However, she absolutely hates him when he teases her dear brother.

It was complicated with Genbu as he took down Tokisada and insults him (it's not really the case but she took it that way (Yeah she took that personally)). But he did help her a lot in Season 2, so now it's way better.

It was even more complicated with Hyôga, as he sealed her brother within the Freezing Coffin and took eons recovering from it, so it was definitely not the best first meeting ever there... However, seeing that Hyôga actually "cared" and helped her for a bit, the relationship is getting a bit better (well not for Tokisada that being said...).

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Personality :

Tokisaki is a serious yet gentle Saint of Athena. It seems like she is very punctual, probably due to her time powers. She also likes to do puns about time, but only with close people it seems.

She hasn't held numerous missions as a subordinate of Athena, because she hasn't had the Cloth for a long time.

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Plot / Story :

Season 1 :

Promoted to Silver Saint

Tokisaki inherited the Horologium Silver Cloth shortly after her older brother Tokisada, who was the previous wearer of the Cloth, was promoted to Gold Saint. Tokisaki was very proud to hear that her brother has reached that rank, but was far from knowing what would really happen after that promotion.

Battle of the 12 Houses

Promoted during the battle of the 12 Houses, Tokisaki did not take part in the war, and was not seen fighting any of the contenders. However, she was first seen training in Athens shortly after her promotion. She was training with Ionia, the Capricorn Gold Saint, who also trained her brother Tokisada when he was younger. They both respects Ionia a lot and even consider him a grandfather, and Ionia cares about them as much as they are.

When Ionia had to leave to his student as the Bronze Saints were approaching his Zodiac House, Tokisaki kept training all by herself, but not without some worries about not only Ionia, but also Tokisada. The fact that these Bronze Saints were able to reach the 10th Zodiac House despite the difference in Rank concerned Tokisaki a lot. Since they actually managed to kill one of them (Schiller), she was afraid that they would try to kill Tokisada as well. She believes in him, but she also knew that one of the Bronze Saints was the soul brother of previous Bronze Saint Wolf Yoshitomi, whom Tokisada killed a few years ago following Ionia's orders. Thinking about that incident, she prayed for both of them to live, but was left in shock and in disbelief when she felt her brother's Cosmo slowly fading away (They "connected" their Cosmo when they were younger, so each other can sense the other from miles away)... Without warning anyone, she went on to look for her brother.

Ascension of the 12 Houses

When Tokisaki arrives in the Aries House, she was interrupted by Kiki, who told her it was too dangerous as the balance of the Houses was shattered due to the battle against Mars. Tokisaki said she needs to keep goin because otherwise she could lose her brother. Upon realizing that her brother is Tokisada, one of the Gold Saints, Kiki lets her pass, advising her to go talk to Genbu on the Libra House for answers, as Genbu fought Tokisada, but not without telling her to be careful on the way. Tokisaki thanked him for his understanding and advice then continued her ascension.

She was quickly stopped by Harbinger when she reached his Zodiac House. He wanted to fight (typical from the bone breaker), but Tokisaki didn't wanted to right now because of her brother being in danger. Harbinger then gave her a deal ; fighting him for a few minutes to prove her worthiness in ascending the path of the 12 Zodiac Houses, something Kiki should have done as well, as he stated. Tokisaki had no choice but to fight him, but being angry about the situation, she fought very well for her first official battle with the Horologium Cloth. Harbinger was pretty impressed by her talent despite just being promoted, and lets her pass.

She passes the next 3 houses with no casualties, with Paradox being held captive and both Schiller and Mycenae having perished in the War (not seeing Mycenae worries Tokisaki a lot).

Upon reaching the Virgo House, Tokisaki felt pressure all around the place. She will eventually meet the Gold Saint, Fudô, and Tokisaki was instantly mesmerized by the Gold Saint's beauty. The latter will also be intrigued by the Silver Saint, as she also sports heterochromic eyes, but what caught the Gold Saint's eye (literally) was the clock in her left eye. He will also see the similarity she shares with Tokisada, and therefore understands that she is his sister. Fudô will eventually join Tokisaki so she could reach the Libra House without any problems. During that period, they talk a lot and seems to be getting along very well.

Reaching the Libra House together, Tokisaki will finally face Genbu, who defeated her brother. The latter will explain what happened and Tokisaki does not believe him at all, saying Tokisada is not like that at all. That's when Genbu talks about the Aquarius Cloth controlling Tokisada, using him as a puppet. This left Tokisaki paralyzed, moreover Genbu said he couldn't reach the Confines of Time anymore, because keeping the balance so anything could collapse consumes too much Cosmo for him to do something else, and that Tokisaki would not be able to come back either. But Genbu reassures her saying he believes there is still good in him and that he will come back all by himself. She will have no other choice but to wait for him to come back, while being sure his Cosmo doesn't disappear completely. Fudô stays by her side to make her feel better.

She will eventually give all her support to the Bronze Saints and Sagittarius Seiya for their battle against Mars, hoping they can put an end to this nightmare and save the World.

Season 2 :

Battle of Pallas Belda

Tokisaki kept waiting day and night for her brother to come back. During that period, she stayed alongside Fudô. When peace was restored in the Sanctuary, Genbu was able to do what he want, but when he get to use his weapons to get Tokisada out of the Confines of Time, the Aquarius Gold Saint never reached it. However, during that short amount of time, Tokisaki felt her brother's Cosmo suddenly rise up again, and was more than relieved, and wanted to hug him. But this moment never occures. Tokisada did get out of the Confines of Time, but he never appears in front of the Libra House. Genbu was surprised to see that Tokisada managed to escape all of a sudden. But feeling her brother's immense Cosmo, she instantly knew where he was, and therefore the group headed to the place where he was. However, this would also lead to the war against the Pallasites, since Pallas reincarnated and is draining Athena's life. Genbu will gather the remaining Saints and be the head of this "army".

Tokisaki will join the battle, in hopes that she will find her brother again. She decided to follow Genbu, hoping that if they find him, he could join them in the battle against the Pallasites. They will quickly be surrounded by hundreds of Pallasites, as well as Second Class Pallasite Aegir, who Genbu defeated with ease, while Tokisaki took down most of the Pallasites.

Observing with great shame, Holy Sword Hyperion, one of the 4 First Class Pallasites, sends down his Holy Sword, Tenchihometsuzan to Aegir, so he can use it against Genbu. As Aegir uses the Sword's power, it instantly freezes the time on all refugees and Saints, with the sole exception of Genbu.

Judging that the Holy Sword is a sword of extreme danger, Genbu resolves to wield the Libra Sword to match up against the Holy Sword and went into a fierce battle. Unfortunately, Aegir will be able to disarm Genbu and taking advantage. When he tried to take down Genbu once and for all, he was stopped by Tokisaki, who was able to break free thanks to her own Time abilities. Seeing the origin of her powers, Aegir tries to convince her to join the Pallasites, to which Tokisaki refused. The Pallasite will try to convince her by saying that her brother Tokisada was on their side, which left Tokisaki in a state of shock. Aegir pulled up that trick (which is actually true) because he saw some ressemblance between them. Obviously, Tokisaki did not believe him in the first place, but Aegir confirms to her that it was true. Tokisaki will then proceed to shoot multiple attacks, aiming the Pallasite out of anger. Genbu will have no choice but to calm her down. He will convince her to keep going and search for her brother to see if he really became a Pallasite. This will make the Horologium Saint come back to her senses, and she will continue her journey through Pallas Belda to find her brother.

She will follow her brother's Cosmo to chose the right path in order to join him. Therefore, the path she chose was Niflheim. As she continues going deeper into the complex, she battles several Pallasites on the way. These Third Class Pallasites were sent so no one else can enter the complex. She was a Silver Saint, so the Pallasites didn't pay that much attention to her, as there were Gold Saints all around the place, who were far more threatening to them than her. Unfortunately for them, a determined Tokisaki will be able to take them all down with remarquable ease.

She will eventually be able to reach the Clock Industry, but she was a bit late. When she arrives, she encounters Wolf Haruto, Equuleus Subaru and Cygnus Hyôga, but her eyes will quickly look the other way, where her brother Tokisada was, sealed within the Freezing Coffin. She will rush towards the huge ice block and touch it, screaming in pain as her powers seems to be useless to save her brother. This will be confirmed by Hyôga that she will not be able to break the ice that easily. Simply with that one sentence, she will immediately know that Hyôga was responsible for her brother's current condition, and will instantly block him with her powers, repeateadly asking him why, out of all the things he could have done, he sealed him within a Freezing Coffin. Hyôga retorqued that Tokisada seek immortality, so he gave it to him, which fueled Tokisaki's anger even more.

Tokisaki engaged in battle with Hyôga, stating that if he doesn't free her brother right away, she will avenge him and kill Hyôga, even if it can mean that she will lose her right to be a Saint of Athena (I know Tokisada killed Wolf Yoshitomi, but since Hyôga is a Legendary Saint, it could possibly have terrible circumstances of killing him). This battle will be tense, but being pretty much in the same power condition as her older brother, Hyôga will have the upper hand, and will even be able to subdue the Silver Saint.

With Tokisaki on her knees, Hyôga demands her to stop, otherwise he will have no choice but to seal her within the Freezing Coffin just like her brother. However, Hyôga will be caught off guard by a powerful Cosmo attack launched by the Silver Saint. He barely dodge that attack and started slightly bleeding on his cheek. Hyôga was surprised because he felt Tokisada's Cosmo in his sister's attack, despite being frozen solid. He couldn't explain how it happen. Tokisaki was not afraid of the Legendary Saint's threat, and shouted that she will save her brother no matter what, and show them that he is not himself anymore, all because of Medea. Intrigued, Hyôga will demand an explanation from the Silver Saint. Seeing that Hyôga seemingly cares about what happens, Tokisaki will be able to calm herself down and tells her everything she know about Tokisada ever since he became a Gold Saint. She will be able to tell everything thanks to what Genbu told her when they first met.

Hyôga will be doubtful at first, but seeing Tokisaki's distress and tears as she talks about their past, and how he was there to raise her, replacing their deceased father, Hyôga will believe that she could be right about him, and decided to free the former Gold Saint. Moreover, he was still shocked that Tokisada's Cosmo became one with Tokisaki's in that last attack. He will asks Tokisaki if she wants to free Tokisada alongside him, in a way of "forgiving" himself. The young woman agrees and they expand their Cosmo further beyond in order to break the ice. Tokisaki expand it like never before, and Hyôga saw it ; he couldn't believe what was happening, and now he sees it with his very eyes : their Cosmo are indeed combining into one gigantic mass of energy. With all that Cosmo in the room, the ice finally shattered, and Tokisada was freed from it.

Tokisaki caught her brother before he fell on the ground, and was hugging him, trying to warm his body up the best way she could, as she used a lot of Cosmo freeing him. The last bits she had she is using it to protect her brother. Hyôga will then leave with Haruto and Subaru, and wishes Tokisaki good luck, and is hoping that she is right about Tokisada and that everything will be okay for them now. Tokisaki thanked him one last time and bid her farewell to the trio, but not without apologizing to Hyôga, but also Haruto for what happened with Yoshitomi (even though she had nothing to do with it).

Tokisaki will not be seen battling after that event, as she will stay close to her brother, keeping his body warm, until the battle is over and she will be able to bring her brother back to safety and be taken care of. She is wishing good luck to the Saints for their battle.

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Trivia :

When her parents got together, they decided to live together in Japan. Therefore, the siblings were born and grew up in Japan.

She was supposed to be born on January 27th, but is born a day early. On the other hand, her older brother Tokisada was the one that was supposed to be born on January 26th, but will only be born on February 9th. The reason behind that is because his body was still developing in his mother's womb, as he was missing an ear (the right one to be precise). But they had to make him come into the World otherwise it could have been very dangerous for both of them.

She admires her brother a lot. He is like a model to her. The reason is that he was always there to take care of her since their father died. He was always by her side, and now she wants to show him that she can do the same as well.

When she became an adult, she will follow her brother's steps and will live in Greece, their mother's country. Their mother will even follow them.

Exactly like her brother, her name is reminiscent of her powers ; mastery over time. We don't really know the extent of her powers, but it's most likely not as high as her older brother.

She will inherit the Horologium Silver Cloth right after her brother Tokisada was promoted as the new Aquarius Gold Saint. In fact, he designated Tokisaki as his successor for the Cloth as soon as he got it. Thats speaks facts.

Even though she wasn't there when her brother received the Aquarius Cloth from Medea, she instantly knew that it was the curse inside it that caused her brother's behaviour and personality to change drastically.

She will never leave her brother's side after she was able to reunite with him. She stayed by his side when he was unconscious, and even after when he was recovering. Their connected Cosmo when Tokisaki freed him made him lose a lot of energy, and his body was obviously very cold, hence why he lost consciousness and stay in a sort of coma state.

It was said that it was unlikely for Tokisada to fully heal from his condition caused by the curse (they confirmed that it was indeed the curse that caused everything). Tokisaki did not care because she knew her brother's determination, and believes in him no matter what. She knows that he will fight it and try his best.

Thanks to her efforts, the remaining Gold Saints were able to see the good in him and Athena decided to give him back the Aquarius Gold Cloth. He will start to get along with pretty much everyone, except Harbinger maybe. The Great Pope likes to tease him about that curse and all, blah blah blah...

Seeing that not only Tokisada, but also Harbinger and Fudô redeemed themselves as they were on Mars' side before, Athena decided to revive the Gold Saints that perished during the war, and gave them a chance at redeeming themselves as well.

Thanks to that, the Gold Saints also highly respects Tokisaki and they even consider her as their par, despite being a Silver Saint. Tokisada also said that he couldn't be more proud of his little sister.

When she will meet Amor, they will be talking about Medea, who was Amor's older sister. He told her that she was a literal witch, and that he wasn't at all surprised that the curse she put on the Aquarius Cloth literally entered Tokisada's body and completely turned him, to a point where it is now some sort of mental illness.

She started dating Fudô after the war against the Pallasites, but Fudô made his proposal to Tokisaki after everyone was back and re-promoted to Gold Saints, for everyone to see.

They will have 4 children in the future ; a son and 3 daughters.

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Quotes :

Season 1 :

"Congrats on your promotion, aniki. I will be worthy of the Cloth you gave me." Tokisaki's first sentence during her very first apperance

"I want you to be my master, please Mister Ionia ! You were my brother's master and I want to be trained by the same person as my brother." to Capricorn Ionia

"I believe in you, aniki, but please be careful..." Talking to herself after Ionia left for the battle

"No... Aniki... You can't be dying like that ! Not after your promotion to Gold Saints !" Tokisaki when she is feeling her brother's Cosmo starting to slowly fade away

"I don't have time to battle you, big guy ! I have to save my brother !" To Taurus Harbinger

"Where... Where is he ?..." Tokisaki when she enters the Leo House

"That man... has heterochromic eyes just like me... I'm not alone to have that... ? What is this feeling I have in my chest ?" Tokisaki when she sees Fudô for the first time

"Hey you ! You can use your weapons to reach the Confines of Time, right ? You have to use it right away ! Or else my brother will die !" to Libra Genbu

"A curse ? Yeah ! That's the problem ! The curse definitely has done something to my brother ! There's no other explanations !" to Libra Genbu and Virgo Fudô when Genbu told her about their battle

"Please aniki... Hang in there !...." to herself when she and Genbu couldn't do anything to help her brother

"I will stay here until he comes back ! I will never give up on him !" to Virgo Fudô and Libra Genbu

"Thank you for staying with me..." to Virgo Fudô

Season 2 :

"What do you mean ?... He actually managed to leave the Confines of Time ? And his Cosmo is so strong all of a sudden ! But why did he not appear here with us ?" to Libra Genbu

"I can sense his Cosmo. And I know where he is ! We need to get there ! I want to know what's happening !" to Libra Genbu and Virgo Fudô

"I'll go as well. I'm not afraid of these Pallasites !" to Libra Genbu

"No... You're lying ! My brother did not join your side ! How could you say such a thing !" to Phantom Arm Gauntlet Aegir

"I will find him. Thank you for everything Genbu !" to Libra Genbu

"Get out of my way !" to the Third Class Pallasites

"Aniki ! No !... Why... What happened ?! Why are you sealed away in this ice prison ?!" Tokisaki when she sees Tokisada's body sealed within the Freezing Coffin

"You... You monster ! How could you do this ?! Free my brother instantly you hear me ?!" to Cygnus Hyôga

"Why ?! Out of all the things you could have done, why did you seal him away within your freaking Freezing Coffin ?!" to Cygnus Hyôga

"I ... will not give up on my brother ! He was always there for me, so I'll be there for him as well ! I don't care of the consequences of what I may have to do, if it's for my family ! Your menaces don't scare me !" To Cygnus Hyôga

"Medea ! This b*tch ! It was all because of her !" to Cygnus Hyôga

"Big brother ! Are you okay ? Can you hear me ? Please don't give up on me !" to Tokisada after she frees him from the Freezing Coffin

"I know they can do it... And when it's all over, I will bring you to safety, and this nightmare will be over..." to Tokisada's unconscious body, praying for the Saints' win

First Concept Art of Tokisaki

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Happy Birthday to you my Baby Girl ! ♥

(And I gave her this date because I was supposed to be born on January 26th but ended up being born at 0.34 A.M on January 27th xD)

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#saint seiya #saint seiya omega #saint seiya omega oc #oc #original character #silver saint #horologium cloth #horologium tokisaki #procreate #digital art #digital drawing #artists on tumblr #artist unity #reference sheet #character template #oc template #oc reference sheet

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linuxgamenews · 1 year ago

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Gods Against Machines: Action Roguelite Strategy Coming Soon

Gods Against Machines action roguelite strategy game aims at Steam Deck and Linux with Windows PC. Thanks to Silver Eye Studios for their impressive and skillful development work. Due to make its way onto Steam this month. Let's talk about the latest title from Silver Eye Studios, Gods Against Machines, launching this February 23rd. It's due to release on Windows PC but also offers hope for Steam Deck and Linux. The Czech Republic-based team is bringing something fresh to the table, and it looks very promising.

...we believe the game should run on Linux (with emulator), and we've tested it on a Steam Deck where it's fully playable, though some UI elements might be a tad small. We'll definitely look into further testing on Linux to ensure a smoother experience.

Good news for Steam Deck players – there's a strong chance of support. Since Gods Against Machines ' is crafted in Unity and already compatible with popular controllers like Xbox and PlayStation, a Linux build seems quite likely. While it's not confirmed, the developer hasn't ruled it out either, so fingers crossed. Taking on the role of a warrior god fighting off an alien machine invasion. You've got a whole arsenal of spells at your disposal, and you can tweak them to suit your style. While every campaign is a new adventure with over four dozen spells, ever-changing maps, and a roguelite progression system that keeps things interesting.

Gods Against Machines - Official Release Trailer

youtube

But here's the twist – it's not your usual action roguelite strategy game. You can skip missions if you want, making your journey tougher but faster, or take your time, complete each challenge, and become more powerful. It's all about how you want to play, and I like that flexibility. The pace is quick, the strategy element is solid, and the replay value? Through the roof. With maps and rewards that change every time, you won't get bored. And let's talk about customization. Gods Against Machines has over 60 spells and loads of passive bonuses, so you can create tons of different builds. Plus, the roguelite aspect means every playthrough also feels fresh with new strategies to explore. Visually, its low poly graphics style is gorgeous, and the soundtrack? Epic. It sets the mood. Now, the inspiration behind Gods Against Machines is fascinating. It draws from classics like Populous and Starcraft (thanks to the Nexus Wars mod) and newer hits like Slay The Spire. This blend of old and new is something I'm looking forward to. Crafted by a small family studio, this game feels like a love letter for old-school and modern strategy fans. It's not just a nod to the past but a step into the future of strategy gaming. Mark your calendars for February 23rd, 2024. Whether you're a strategy veteran or new to the genre, Gods Against Machines is shaping up to be a must-try action roguelite strategy. Coming to Steam priced at $10.99 USD / £9.29 / 10,79€. Playable on Steam Deck with Proton via Windows PC, with the hope of a native Linux build too.

#gods against machines #action roguelite #strategy #linux #gaming news #silver eye studios #ubuntu #steam deck #windows #pc #unity #Youtube

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twinskahokachun · 8 months ago

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The Twin Mental Connection

One mind, two bodies. When you know your brother like you know yourself, nothing is impossible. 🩶

Silver is Brotherhood. Silver is Family. Silver is Life.

Ready to join us on this journey? 🩶 Contact us, the twin Co-Caps! Our Cap @morphmastersilver Or our recruiter @juliussilver25

#Brotherhood #Mind Sync #silver #silver collective #silver brothers #male transformation #silver tf #join the silver collective #silver is life #jockification #silvertf #gay #Unity

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baaldigital · 2 years ago

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Lotus Ring Silber

Ein geistiges Symbol der Schöpfung und Wiedergeburt.

Absicht des Schmuckstücks:

Füllen Sie Ihr Leben mit Bescheidenheit und Demut um Einigkeit mit dem Ganzen zu finden.

#Spiritual Jewelry #Symbol of Creation #Rebirth Symbol #Silver Lotus Ring #Unity and Humility #Spiritual Growth #Transformation Jewelry #Sacred Lotus #Spiritual Awakening #Renewal and Growth

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multific · 10 days ago

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Moonbound

Va'Rak x Reader

Summary: Taken from Earth and raised as the adopted daughter of a noble Yautja chief, you have spent your life learning their ways and earning their respect. Now, you face a trial of tradition, three noble suitors arrive from rival clans, each one determined to claim your hand for the sake of unity.

The air on Yautja Prime always carried heat like a second skin, clinging to your back and the nape of your neck.

From the high ledge beside your father’s quarters, you watched the arriving vessels, each one landing slowly.

Three ships, three suitors.

You barely flinched when his heavy footsteps approached.

"You are prepared," your father said, his voice low and mechanical through his breathing mask.

You didn’t look at him at first. Instead, you watched the final ship lower.

"I am not some blade to be wielded for alliance," you replied softly, the familiar ache you felt since he informed you of his plans.

"You are more than a blade. You are my daughter," he said simply. "That is why they come."

The words settled. They all felt very heavy.

You were not Yautja by birth, but by blood earned.

Taken from Earth during your youth, you had been a prize once. A trophy of a victorious hunt. But your spirit had not broken. And so they raised you.

You walked tall in their armour. You bore the marks of your trials. You spoke their tongue, and carried honour in every step.

And yet, now they came to claim you like a reward.

Daku’te arrived first.

He wore golden armour and pride in his every step. He knelt before you without hesitation.

"I will fight. I will bleed. I will die for the right to mate you," he said with blazing certainty. "And I will die proud."

He was young. Too young. His hunger for glory drowned out any understanding of who you were.

You bowed your head politely, hiding the flicker of discomfort in your throat. "Honour to you, Daku’te."

He seemed pleased by that, though it was not a promise.

Cha’ren came next, flanked by two silent warriors. His movements were slow, calculated. His smile never reached his eyes.

"So, this is the human prize," he said with a grin. "Raised on our soil, yet still soft."

You met his stare head-on. "Soft does not mean weak."

"Oh, I know," he murmured. "But still, I wonder... do you bleed like us?"

You stepped forward, refusing to be measured like meat.

"If I am chosen, you will never lie beside me."

He laughed low in his chest. "We will see, little thing."

Va’rak was last.

He didn’t kneel. He didn’t speak.

He towered over you, armour marked with the bloodline of a noble house. His every movement was precise, every word calculated.

When he finally broke the silence, it was not to you.

"I come because my father commands it. I will win because it is expected."

You folded your arms. "And what of what I want?"

His stare was cold. "You are not of my blood. I will not taint the line."

You let the silence hang, then smiled tightly.

"Then you are wasting your time."

The Trials Began the next day.

The first was strength. Daku’te won, dragging a cave beast by the tusks, roaring for the crowd.

The second was intellect. Cha’ren impressed many, though his traps were cruel, leaving even the elders uncomfortable.

The third was the Hunt. Va’rak did not speak before it began. He slipped into the trees and returned with the kill before the others had even picked up the scent. Clean. Quiet. Efficient.

But not a word passed between you and him. Not until the night before the final trial.

You walked beneath the twin moons, craving silence. Their silver glow bathed the cliffs in light, softening even the harshest edges of the land.

"You walk alone," came the voice from behind you.

You turned, startled by the voice. Va’rak stood a few paces away.

"Is that forbidden now too?" you asked.

He stepped closer, slowly.

"No," he said. "Only... strange."

You crossed your arms. "Have you come to remind me again that I am not worthy of your bloodline?"

"I did not say unworthy," he replied. "Only not... of it."

You stared at him. "What does that even mean to you?"

He was quiet. Then, "My mother was of high blood. She died showing softness. My father never forgave her for it."

You said nothing at first. Then you stepped closer, slowly raising your hand to his forearm. He tensed, but did not pull away.

"Then your father was a fool."

Va’rak said nothing. The silence filled the air around you before he spoke up.

"You are not what I expected."

"Neither are you."

His voice dropped low. "I came to claim a title. To fullfil duty. But now... I cannot stop thinking of you."

Your hand moved away from his arm, but you didn’t step back.

"What changed?"

He looked at you, his voice rough.

"Your eyes. They see me. Not my name, not my blood. Me. If I lose tomorrow, I will leave. But know this. If I am chosen, it will not be for alliance. It will be for you."

---

Daku’te and Va’rak met in the circle. The fight was brutal. Blood spilled. Roars echoed across the stone.

Daku’te moved fast, but Va’rak was precise.

At the end, he held the blade to Daku’te’s throat... and lowered it.

He stepped back. Bowed his head.

Your father stood.

"Va’rak has proven himself. In strength. In skill. In wisdom."

Then he turned to you.

"The choice is yours."

All eyes turned.

You stepped forward, heartbeat steady.

Va’rak lowered himself to one knee.

"No pride. No honour. Only this. You are the only thing I want." Va'rak spoke.

"Then rise. And walk beside me."

He did. And the drums began.

And beneath the twin moons, they no longer saw a human and a warrior. They saw two hearts, chosen not by blood, but by bond.

He came to conquer. But it was your kindness that conquered him.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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moonmaiden1996 · 1 month ago

Text

The Monster Maomao Created Part 5

Even without his disguise, the room was unbearably hot, with his heavy robes and veil it was pure hell. The thick summer air hung heavy, cloaking everything in a suffocating haze. Heat radiated off the lacquered floor tiles in waves, pickling his back and arms beneath the many layers of silk he was still forced to wear. Sweat pooled at the base of Jinshi’s neck, slick against the collar of his robes.

The only relief came from a narrow window high in the stone wall, where a thread of breeze slithered in, stirring the incense smoke and rustling a strand of his hair that poked through the eye slot It wasn’t enough. But to complain now—before the Emperor, and worse, the General—would have been unthinkable.

The General, a towering man with sun-darkened skin and silver threaded through his temples, sat across from him with all the stillness of a statue. His presence seemed to swallow the room. But still, Jinshi did not flinch. He sat straight-backed and silent, his face a mask of calm, though heat stung his skin and soaked his underlayer. He stared directly at the older man, even as tension crackled through the space like the silence before a battle.

“…so if all bears well, we will return before the next full moon,” the General was saying, his voice like gravel dragged across iron. “The barbarians are no match for your forces.”

“It is only through your leadership, General,” the Emperor replied smoothly from his elevated seat. “You have proven yourself, time and again. Clan Hu remains one of our greatest pillars of strength.”

Jinshi watched the old warrior bow his head with practiced humility, arms sweeping out in a rigid arc of gratitude. His lips parted, a reply forming—but the Emperor spoke again, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

“…but I did not summon you to speak only of battle. In the midst of all this conflict, I wish to demonstrate our strength through unity. A marriage.”

“You honor me, Your Majesty…” the General began cautiously.

“But?” the Emperor leaned forward slightly, voice warm with invitation. “Come now, loyal friend. You may speak freely.”

The General exhaled, slow and heavy. “My daughter is not made for the court. She was raised in her mother’s western heritage—too bold, too sharp. She would not thrive as a consort.”

The Emperor’s lips curved in amusement. “I agree. Some flowers do not bloom in gilded cages. Your daughter reminds me of the blue poppy that grows in the high passes—delicate in appearance, yes, but only in the wild does it show its true color. Attempt to cultivate it in the bounds of a garden and it withers.”

A flicker of something—perhaps pride, perhaps pain—passed over the General’s face. His rigid shoulders eased, just a fraction.

“But I do not speak of taking her as my consort,” the Emperor continued. “I speak of my brother. It is time he had a wife, and I can think of no better bride than your daughter.”

The shift in the General’s body was immediate. His spine straightened; his eyes narrowed. Jinshi could feel the weight of his attention shift directly onto him, appraising, dissecting.

“I am aware,” the General said, voice cold now, “that the Imperial Brother gifted my daughter a pin for her birthday. But that is all it is a gift.”

“This prospect upsets you?” the Emperor asked, not unkindly.

The General’s fingers curled against his thighs, the knuckles paling with restraint.“If I may speak freely…” he bites out in a strained attempt at calm. “The Imperial Brother is not what I envisioned for my daughter. He is …unsuitable to her. The court has always assumed that due to… his affliction… he would not marry. So long as the line of succession continues, this has never been questioned. My daughter, though she may not show it, is full of warmth. She needs love and strength from a husband, not a match made of politics.”

The Emperor inclined his head. “It is clear you cherish her greatly.”

“As if she were a son. Perhaps more.” The General’s voice cracked slightly with intensity. “And that is why, though I am honored by the offer, I must decline—not out of defiance, but out of love.”

“If I may.” Jinshi spoke quietly, but his voice carried. The General looked at him sharply, never had the prince's voice been heard beyond the whispers to his courtiers when he did attend count.

“I do not wish to force your daughter,” Jinshi continued. “I do not intend to make a pawn of her.”

The General blinked.

“She is beautiful, yes. And noble. But that is not why I wish to marry her. I may still be the Emperor’s brother, but I am no longer the Second Prince. With the birth of my nephew, I am finally free—to choose not just a bride, but a partner. And I choose her. I chose her the moment we first met.”

The General scoffed, his temper flaring visibly. “You have never met my daughter. You never leave the palace.”

“Oh, but I do.”

Jinshi reached up. His fingers moved slowly, deliberately, to the knot at the base of his head. With one fluid motion, he untied the tightly bound mask and let it fall into his lap.

Four things happened at once.

The General surged to his feet, a roar tearing from his throat.

The Emperor smirked

A rush of cool air kissed Jinshi’s damp skin, the freedom of it almost dizzying.

And Gohsan, standing silent by the pillar, visibly aged another five years.

“What is the meaning of this?!” the General thundered. His voice cracked through the chamber like lightning.

“Sit, General,” the Emperor commanded.

The older man stood heaving, nostrils flared, staring down at the unmasked figure before him.

“He is a eunuch!” the General snarled. “What is the meaning of this deception? This insult?”

“Forgive my brother’s theatricality,” the Emperor said with a sigh. “I had hoped for a more graceful reveal. My brother has taken great pains to remove himself from the line of succession—to ensure peace and stability. What better way than by walking among the court unseen? What better way to observe… and to protect? But as a false eunuch, whose else could I trust as a gardener to my garden.”

“That does not mean I will—”

“You may be my most trusted general,” the Emperor cut him off, voice like velvet over iron, “but you will treat my brother with respect.”

Jinshi met the General’s burning stare without flinching.

“Am I supposed to allow this?” the General snapped. “To have this hidden from her? For her to marry a man who deceives her, who will wear a mask and pretend to be a eunuch.”

“I only ask for the chance to court her,” Jinshi said. “And when the time comes, to reveal everything. To give her the choice.”

The General’s eyes searched his face, looking for weakness, for deceit. He found only resolve.

“…Is this agreeable to you?” The emperor asked, voice low.

“Only after I return will this be discussed, and then she may have her choice.’’

A long pause. The tension stretched like a drawn bow. Then, at last—

“Agreed.” The emperor nodded.

The General exhaled, the fire slowly receding from his gaze. He bowed stiffly, each movement strained with unspoken words. Then, without waiting for dismissal, he turned and strode from the room, boots thudding heavily against the stone floor.

The silence he left behind was thick and humming.

The Emperor leaned back in his seat, smirking. “I don’t think your future father-in-law likes you.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

The cherry blossoms will be in bloom soon.

You could see them beginning to wake—the tiniest buds cracking their casings, just a whisper of pink and white unfurling at the edges. They lined the garden path like promises yet kept, painting the way to the summer house with the first brushstrokes of spring. A pity, truly, that your father would miss it again.

He had always loved the blossoms. Beyond those high, curved walls, you knew the army was preparing. Swords were sharpened, warhorses readied. Soon your father would ride out against the barbarians in the north, and you would be left behind once again. But if he returned safely—as he always did—you could sit together once more in the shade of the summer house. Drink tea among the falling petals. Speak not of politics or duty but as father and daughter.

You just had to survive until then. A diminutive wren, you thought, protecting her hatchlings against the circling eagle while below vipers lay in wait for a stray chick to fall from the nest.

Your fingers trembled as you walked. If only tou had more time to wave a plan, to plot and strategies. But alas, you were at the merxy of this single meeting. The garden chamber. Your father was there. With them. With him.

If he emerged and spoke the word you’d been waiting for—betrothal—then the path forward would be clear. Marriage to the Emperor’s brother was a hindrance in one sense… but it was safety in another. Especially with the Empress beginning to warm to you. No one would dare strike at you from the shadows once you were part of the royal household. Well, mostly anyway.

You reached the edge of the path just as the doors opened across the garden. With fury your father flew from the door and down across the wooden slats that lined the path.

“Father!”

He brushed past you.

He moved quickly, faster than decorum allowed, his robes kicking up dust as they brushed along the floor. You stepped in front of him, placing a hand on his arm. “Stay,” you said gently. “Walk with me. We could take tea together. You haven’t seen the summer house since the buds started—”

“I can’t.” His eyes darted, not meeting yours. “I… I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

But he was already gone, his boots echoing against the stone, swallowed by the curve of the corridor before you could call out again.

You stood there a moment, heart caught in your throat.

And then you saw them.

Jinshi stood just inside the doorway, the Emperor beside him. He wasn’t speaking. Just… watching. His face, so often composed and unreadable, was different now. Forlorn. Lips parted like he’d tried to say something but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.

And your stomach dropped. Had your father refused the match? Had he turned down the protection you so desperately needed? No. No, it couldn’t end like this.

You turned on your heel, skirts whispering around your legs, mind already racing. If your father wouldn’t see this done, then you would.

He desired you. You knew it. You felt it in the way his eyes lingered. In how his breath caught when you moved too close. He just needed a little… encouragement. Maomao had crafted his obsession so carefully that now she was powerless to stop it once she realized the potential of her actions. You would use it, despite every fibre of you wanting nothing more than to run away, to hide, to fight him off.

But you were a woman and you would use everything at your disposal to get what you wanted.

xxxxxxxxxx

The summer house was bathed in golden light. It spilled through the lattice like liquid fire, casting dappled shadows that swayed gently with the breeze. Blossoms clung to the air like snow, drifting lazily across the lacquered floor, catching in your hair, your sleeves, as if the garden itself wanted to adorn you. You had the tea set arranged just so—crystal pot, delicate porcelain cups, a small dish of honey that glinted amber in the sunlight, like a treasure laid out for an offering.

You waited.

The warm hush of the afternoon settled around you like silk. The garden murmured with soft wind and the low hum of bees in the nearby wisteria. You had not hidden your presence; there was no need. And like a loyal hound drawn by some unspoken call, he came—cautiously, uncertainly—skirting the edge of the path.

God of a man. Even from afar, the sight of him stirred something low and molten in your belly. Tall and broad-shouldered, draped in silks the color of ink and starlight, his figure caught the sun like a sculpture. Robes are far too grand for an overseer. His skin gleamed, his hair swept back in perfect knots. He looked, in that moment, like an emperor. You felt foolish for not seeing it sooner, for mistaking him for something simpler. But perhaps that was why it had worked. No one looked past the surface of such beauty. No one expected the sharp mind or the aching depth beneath it.

Jinshi. On his own. Interesting.

Your eyes sparked as you took him in

He was too handsome. Distractingly so. Infuriatingly so. But he made it easy to imagine being his wife. Because, beneath all of that beauty, he wanted you.

“Master Jinshi! Join me. I need some company,” you said as he stepped into the golden hush of the house. “The court can be… so unfriendly.”

He hesitated, one foot still at the threshold, the sunlight like a halo behind him. “You shouldn’t be alone. Not with your father leaving so soon.”

“I’m not.” Your smile was slow, curling at the corners of your mouth like smoke. “You’re here.”

He blinked, uncertain. You gestured to the cushion across from you, fingers light, graceful.

The steam from the tea curled between you, poured with care, letting the scent of jasmine perfume the air between you. Then, deliberately, you reached for the honey.

Your fingers dipped the silver spoon into the golden pool, stirred it slowly into your cup with long, languid circles. All the while, your gaze lingered on him—just beneath your lashes, as if by accident. Then, still watching, you brought the spoon to your lips.

You sucked it clean.

The warmth, the sweetness—it spread across your tongue and drew a quiet sigh from your chest. The sigh was not for him, not exactly. But you knew he would feel it like a kiss.

Jinshi’s face went red—abruptly, violently. He looked away like you’d slapped him, hand tightening around his teacup until his knuckles went pale. He shifted, tense, his breath not quite even. You saw the flicker of something wild in him, something barely restrained.

Beneath the low table, you pressed your thighs together. The heat there made you inhale softly, as the tingle ran through. That was new.

“Is the tea too hot?” you asked, voice low, a teasing purr, eyes lingering on his hands still firmly clinging to the cup.

“No… no, erm… it’s fine,” he managed, his voice rough with something he couldn’t quite swallow. “Is the honey good?”

“Very.” You smiled—soft and slow—and sipped, letting the tea linger on your tongue.’’You should try it’’ Then, as if remembering yourself, you glanced toward the garden, where the first buds of lotus curled open like secrets at the edge of the pond.

He cleared his throat, as if the weight of your gaze��or the heat that clung to the air between you—could be shaken off with such a simple sound. He was trying to gather himself. It wasn’t working.

“Your father is to leave soon.”

The unease, the low thrumming anxiety that had been pacing the edges of your thoughts, returned—settled heavy in your stomach like a stone. Your fingers tightened slightly on the rim of your cup.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “I fear what will happen if he doesn’t return.”

A pause. The sunlight flickered across Jinshi’s cheekbones, gilding them like something carved from marble and flame.

“You have the Imperial Brother’s hairpin,” he said at last. “I’m sure you’ll be looked after.”

But his voice had changed—tight, strained, brittle at the edges. Not conviction. Jealousy.

“You think so?”Your eyes returned to him then, sharper than before, glittering with something close to challenge. “He does send the prettiest poems,” you said, letting the words roll lazily from your tongue like honey. “He’s such a sweet soul. Gentle. Well-read. Everything a woman is supposed to want.”

Jinshi’s expression didn’t change, but you saw it in the way he stopped breathing.

“But,” you continued, tilting your head just slightly, “he won’t even see me. Not once, and I can not visit him.”

You traced the rim of your teacup with one idle finger, watching his hands on his lap—tight, still. “It doesn’t give a very clear signal, does it? Perhaps…” You let the silence stretch, then sighed. “Perhaps I’m not worth the trouble. Or perhaps he simply pities me.”

There was no true hurt in your voice, but you let it echo there anyway, faint and deliberate. Enough to stir something in him. Enough to make him bleed for it.

Jinshi’s jaw clenched—barely, but you noticed. The muscle ticked once. His eyes darkened, though he did not speak. He was too careful for that.

And so, you leaned back, sipping again, smiling as if nothing you said had any consequence at all.

Jinshi’s silence stretched long—too long. You could see the storm of thoughts behind his gaze, the way he warred with himself, unsure if he dared speak what he truly believed. Finally, he said, voice low and strangely gentle:

“Maybe…” He hesitated, then pressed on. “Maybe the Imperial Brother doesn’t avoid you because he pities you. Maybe he fears how you might look at him.”

You tilted your head, the motion slow and deliberate. “Oh?”

Jinshi’s hand curled loosely into a fist on the table. “He must keep himself veiled, even from most of the court. He exhaled slowly. “Perhaps he thinks… if you saw him—truly—you would turn away.”

A soft breeze stirred the curtains at your back. The sunlight moved with it, catching the warmth in your eyes as you looked across at him.

“I don’t care for beauty,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “I care for a man who loves me. Who cherishes me.”

He blinked. You could see the moment those words struck him.

“But love is a luxury I cannot afford,” you added, softer now, more honest. The ache behind the words cracked something open between you. “So, failing that… I must choose someone who will not harm my family. Someone with enough power to shield them. Even if he does not love me. Even if I do not love him.”

You let the truth hang there, raw and bare, because there was nothing else you could offer.

Your fingers played at the edge of your sleeve, twisting the silk. “Pretty poems are not enough,” you murmured. “Not when the world is waiting to devour everything I hold dear.”

Jinshi looked down into his untouched tea, his throat worked as he swallowed, slow and deliberate. The silence built around you like gathering thunderclouds, low and pressing. You watched his jaw clench, tight enough to ache.

“Maybe I should find someone else,” you said, voice light but edged. “Someine like Minister Zhou’s son, maybe. Or Commander Ling.”

The effect was immediate.

He went pale—then flushed. His brows twitched as though struck. A storm rolled across his face—confusion first, then jealousy, and beneath it, something darker still. Something old and buried and just beginning to rise.

“You can’t,” he said abruptly, the words too loud, too sharp.

You blinked.

“He’s—he’s beastly,” Jinshi stammered, almost tripping over the words. “He wouldn’t know how to care for you. He doesn’t even know how to speak to a woman without sounding like a drunk soldier at a brothel—he—”

But he broke off, and the rest was lost in a sudden motion. He stood, too fast, too tense, the cushions shifting beneath him. His breath came shallow now, eyes burning as he leaned over the low tea table—towering without touching. His hands clenched at the polished edge as though gripping something inside himself.

For a moment, just one, you wondered if he would kiss you or throw the tea set against the floor.

“I need to make sure my brothers are protected,” you said, carefully, pulling the heat back to something firmer, rational.

“I could protect them,” Jinshi said, his voice gone low, hoarse with restraint. “I will. I have influence. And power.”

It wasn’t a plea. It was a declaration, dressed in urgency, carved in control.

You reached across the space and laid your hands over his.

The shift in him was near imperceptible—but you felt it. A breath caught. A line in his shoulders softened, but only slightly. As though your touch tethered something that might otherwise unravel. Then it struck you—this was the first time you had ever touched him.

His skin was warm—firm, steady. Expected. But the sensation that bloomed under your palm was not.

Something stirred in you, deep and low, curling with heat. Trembling, almost afraid. A quiet ache that had nothing to do with safety and everything to do with him. You turned his palm gently upward, tracing the ridges of callus with slow reverence. He didn’t move. But his breath hitched once—barely—and you knew he was holding himself together with a thread.

You were suddenly, devastatingly aware of how much you wanted those hands. Not as symbols of strength, but as skin—warm and rough against your thigh, your back, your throat. You shifted instinctively, thighs tightening beneath your robes. The friction sent a wave of sharp heat through you—undeniable, alarming.

Your fingertip brushed his palm again, featherlight.

He hissed through his teeth. His other hand gripped the table’s edge so hard it creaked.

“If only I had met you before you chose your path,” you murmured, gaze lowering. “Before you tied your life to the Emperor’s garden. If you weren’t…” You trailed off. “I would accept you in a heartbeat.”

You dared not meet his eyes. Your throat ached with the truth.

Then, softer: “But as a woman, there’s only so much I can do. I’ll do what I can for my brothers and pray for my father’s safe return. It is all I can do.”

Not the truth, of course, as a woman you were quite capable of doing a lot, but using your feminine power was far more effective.

Then—his fingers closed over yours. Not rough. Not trembling. Possessive.

“You are more than that,” he said, his voice rough. His grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you of his strength. The depth beneath the mask. The danger.

“You are the strongest person I know.” Then, lower—his voice barely a breath: “And if I had met you before I entered the Emperor’s service… I wouldn’t have waited for you to accept me.”

He looked at you then—truly looked. No mask, no smile, no polished restraint. “I would have taken you.”

The words rang in the silence between you like something sacred. Or profane. You didn’t know which. He inhaled, slow and hard. His hand lifted slightly, fingers brushing yours and for a brief moment tou thoufht he might take tou then and there. Throw you onto the table and ravish you. The fact you even thought of that disturbed you. More so because your corr cletched at the mere thought.

“I will do all I can to ensure your safety. Until your father returns. Then we—then I… then all of this will make sense.” And when his eyes locked on yours again, something inside you faltered. You felt scared.

Because you believed him.

And the horror was—you wanted to trust him.

Sorry for the lack of an update. Life has been awful. But you likes and comments have been amazing and really made me want to write.

So I did, in fact, rewrite this twice as it wasn't hitting. After watching the latest couple of episodes I want and need more dark and possessive Jinshi in my life. Was it worth the wait?

Please let me know what you think!

@btsgangleader @thecrazyone2007 @solatiiium @ylovei @mybones537 @clairedeselene @1-800-peakyblinders @traumatizedpomelo @sarcastic-wit

#jinshi x reader #jinshi apothecary diaries #jinshi #the apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries

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kefiteria · 1 month ago

Note

I mean, if you’re looking for a cute headcannon prompt, I think Sebek reacting to being accidentally courted is cute and funny

How You (Accidentally) Court Sebek Zigvolt and Break His Brain In Seven Faeromantic Steps🪻

pairing: Sebek X Reader!

tags: fluff, accidentally overpowered in love rituals, 200% more flustered Sebek

Step 1: You Give Him Moonfruit Wrapped in White Heather

Your intention: “Funky lil night snack. Enjoy!”

Sebek's brain: ‘MOONFRUIT WRAPPED IN WHITE HEATHER??? THEY MIGHT AS WELL HAVE KNELT WITH A RING.’

Cue Sebek (audibly choking): “Y-YOU… W-WHAT POSSESSED YOU TO OFFER SUCH A THING?!”

You: “…Vitamin C?”

Sebek (frantic whisper): “The last person who gave this to someone started a war over fae marriage rites!”

He doesn’t sleep that night. He lies awake. Holding the fruit like it's a cursed object.

Then buries it. Then digs it up again. Then buries it deeper.

Step 2: You Buff His Armor With Hawthorn Oil 🛡️

Your intention: “✨Spa Day for Iron Armor✨”

Sebek's reaction: Full body STIFFEN. Actual shudder. Like you just ran a love confession down his spine.

Sebek (yelping): “HAWTHORN?! OIL?! ON MY ARMOR?! D-DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE?!”

You: “…Cleaned it?”

Sebek (face redder than a lava core): “YOU’VE BOUND YOUR PRESENCE TO MY BATTLE AURA!!”

He immediately tries to remove the oil. But it’s absorbed.

The armor now smells like you. He panics harder.

He starts considering exile.

🌿 Step 3: You Tuck Honeysuckle Behind His Ear

Your intention: “You look like a stressed-out romance novel character. Here.”

Sebek: Broken. Utterly. Devastated. Spiritually compromised.

Sebek (hissing): “D-DO NOT PLACE SYMBOLIC BLOOMS UPON MY FACE!!”

You: “Why not? It’s cute.”

Sebek: “CUTE?!? IT’S A SYMBOL OF POSSESSIVE DESIRE IN COURTSHIP—DO YOU WISH TO BE TRIED BY THE FAE LAWS OF HONOR?!”

He doesn’t remove the flower.

He just blushes so hard it wilts off his skin.

🌼 Step 4: You Leave Him a Bouquet of Primroses at Twilight

Your intention: “He seemed cranky. This is my flower-language for ‘chill out, king.’”

Sebek’s response: Completely silent. Holding the bouquet like it’s an explosive.

Sebek: “Why… why would you give me…seven primroses…under the star's first gaze…?”

You: “…That’s how many I could pick before my fingers got cold?”

Sebek (voice cracking like broken glass): “You just performed a sacred vow exchange ritual accidentally.”

He almost gives them back. Then realizes giving them back would worsen it.

He walks around holding them like cursed relics. Silver tray and all.

🍀 Step 5: You Weave Sweet Clover into His Hair

Your intention: “You’ve got a beautiful hair. Let me style it. This is a gift to me.”

Sebek’s reaction: Full fae knight system crash.

Sebek (hyperventilating): “W-WHY WOULD YOU TANGLE A CROWN OF CLOVER INTO MY SCALP?? D-DO YOU LONG TO BE WED IN THE FAE MANNER?!”

You: “Oi calm down, I was making you Pinterest-core!”

He freezes so hard he stands in the hallway for ten straight minutes.

Silver sighs walking past him. Malleus tilts his head. Lilia takes a photo.

❄️ Step 6: You Leave a Snowdrop at His Door at Dawn

Your intention: “He’s up early. I’m up early. We’re just ✨early✨”

Sebek’s reaction: He doesn’t see the flower. He sees his entire romantic destiny laid bare on stone.

Sebek (whispering): “A…dawndrop…by my threshold. Their promise of guidance through hardship. S-soft petals…soulbound intention…”

You: “What.”

Sebek (wheezing): “WHY MUST YOU WOO ME AT SUNRISE?!!”

He ends up carrying the snowdrop in his glove all day like it’s a holy relic.

He refuses to explain why. No one believes him anyway.

🌹 Step 7: You Drop a Red Rose Petal on His Desk

Your intention: “Aesthetic.”

Sebek’s interpretation: YOU JUST GAVE HIM YOUR HEART AND DECLARED JOINT MILITARY ALLIANCE.

Sebek: “A single petal. The sign of blood-sworn unity on a chosen battlefield. You—You’ve waged love upon me!!”

You: “…Do you need a nap?”

He straight up knocks over the desk and declares a 24-hour vow of silence.

No one knows if he’s praying or crying.

The Grand Sebek Breakdown

Finally, at the end of this romantic rampage, Sebek corners you in the library, cloak flaring, ears red, and he SLAMS his hands on the table:

Sebek: “ARE YOU COURTING ME—OR DO YOU SIMPLY HAVE A DEATH WISH?!!”

You: “Huh? I gave you fruit, flowers, and hair clips. You’re acting like I proposed under a blood moon.”

Sebek (sputtering, vibrating): “THOSE ARE PROPOSALS UNDER A BLOOD MOON!! IN FAE TERMS!! IN MY CULTURE!! YOU’VE PERFORMED SEVEN RITES!!”

You: “… That explains a lot, actually.”

He short-circuits. He just turns around and walks directly into a bookcase.

Silver sighs again. Lilia’s laughing so hard he falls out of the rafters.

#kefimenu #fluff #twst x reader #twst fanfic #twst headcanons #twst diasomnia #disney twst #twst #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek #twisted wonderland sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland

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pricklyjim · 5 months ago

Text

[SHATTERED UNITY: MINI COMICs]

[PAGE #6 "the silver fox and bunny"]

Hm, interesting. They’re so… soft. How do you manage to keep them so clean?

what are you doing? I don’t think they’re that special.

They’re remarkably… well-kept. I’ll admit, I’m curious how you keep them so pristine.

you’re not gonna bite them off, right?

Not unless you ask me nicely~

BACK | HERE | NEXT

#megop

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hisfavegirl · 7 months ago

Text

Resolve - Aemond Targaryen x SisterWife!Reader x Aegon Targaryen

Summary : the situation rewinds to when you found out you were pregnant, your mother made a tough decision for you and aegon.

You walked slowly through the garden, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot mixing with the gentle rustling of leaves swaying in the breeze. The sun bathed the world in golden warmth, and the air was sweet with the scent of blooming flowers. Your eyes followed your daughter as she ran ahead, her silver hair catching the light like threads of silk. Her laughter echoed like the sweetest melody, filling the empty spaces in your heart with warmth.

A smile tugged at your lips as you watched her chase after a butterfly, her little feet pattering on the stone path. Moments like this were rare — moments where everything felt simple, peaceful, and whole.

But then it struck. A sudden wave of nausea. It was sharp and overwhelming, twisting your stomach into painful knots. Your breath hitched, and your steps faltered. Panic rose in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay calm.

“Not here,” you whispered to yourself, glancing toward your daughter to make sure she was still preoccupied with her game.

But it was too late. The bitter taste surged up your throat. Clutching your stomach, you turned quickly and rushed toward a cluster of bushes near the edge of the path. You barely had time to kneel before you heaved, your body betraying you as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the grass. The taste was foul, the strain on your body harsh and unrelenting.

For a moment, you stayed there, one hand braced on the ground, the other pressed to your chest as you took shallow, ragged breaths. Your heart pounded in your ears, and sweat dotted your brow.

“Mother?” a small, worried voice called from behind you. Your daughter.

You wiped your mouth quickly with the back of your hand, swallowing the bitterness that lingered on your tongue. Turning toward her, you forced a smile, even as your body still felt weak.

“I’m all right, my sweet girl,” you said softly, reaching for her hand as she approached. Her eyes were filled with worry, far too knowing for a child so young. She leaned into you, her small hands resting on your arm as she gazed up at you.

“Are you sick?” she asked, tilting her head.

You hesitated. Your mind turned over the possibilities, your breath still unsteady. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt this way recently. No, it had been happening for days now — sudden waves of nausea, fatigue that clung to you like a fog.

Realization struck you like a thunderclap. Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat.

No. It couldn’t be. Not now.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

You were with child. Again.

The weight of the truth pressed heavily on your chest as you sat by the window of your chambers, watching the pale light of dawn spill over the Red Keep. Your fingers absently traced circles on your stomach, a gesture of quiet reassurance — for yourself, for the life growing within you.

You knew whose child it was. There was no doubt in your mind. Aegon. The man who had been your refuge when the world turned cold. The man who saw you when others refused. He had given you warmth when you felt frozen, love when you felt abandoned. This child was his, not Aemond’s.

But love did not erase fear. It did not silence the questions that echoed in your mind.

What will Mother say?

What will they all say?

You knew Alicent would not be pleased. She had fought to maintain control of her family’s reputation, to keep order where chaos always lingered. Her dreams of noble unity had already crumbled once with the annulment of your marriage to Aemond. This would be another crack in the fragile image she sought to preserve.

With a deep breath, you rose from your chair. You couldn’t delay this any longer. She had to know.

The walk to your mother’s chambers felt longer than usual. Servants bowed as you passed, and guards gave you polite nods, but you barely noticed them. Your heart pounded in your chest with every step. What if she blames me? you wondered. What if she blames the child?

When you reached the door, you hesitated. Your hand hovered over the polished wood for a moment before you finally knocked.

“Enter,” came Alicent’s familiar voice from within.

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside. Your mother was seated near the window, a needle and thread in her hands as she mended an intricate piece of embroidery. Her gaze lifted to you, and her eyes softened with that familiar motherly warmth — but also a hint of caution.

“what happend my sweet love?,” she noted, setting aside her sewing. Her eyes scanned your face, always able to read you better than you liked. “You look troubled.”

Of course, she knew. She always knew.

You stepped further in, hands clasped in front of you. For a moment, you felt like a child again, coming to confess some small mischief. But this was no small mischief. This was a truth that would change everything.

“Mother, I need to speak with you,” you said softly, your voice steadier than you felt.

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, her brows knitting together in concern. “What is it, dear?” she asked, motioning for you to sit.

But you didn’t sit. You couldn’t. You stayed standing, your gaze unwavering as you spoke the words that had been clawing at your heart.

“I’m with child,” you said plainly, each word deliberate, like the clang of a hammer on steel.

Silence.

Her lips parted slightly, her hands falling still in her lap. Her eyes flickered to your stomach, and for a heartbeat, you saw hope there. Hope that perhaps this child was Aemond’s. Hope that this might restore what was broken. But you knew that hope would be fleeting.

Her gaze slowly lifted back to yours, sharper now, more calculating. She didn’t have to ask, but she did anyway.

“Whose child is it?” Her voice was quiet but firm, each word like a blade.

You swallowed hard, your fingers pressing against your palms to keep them from trembling. No lies. Not now.

“It’s Aegon’s,” you said, not looking away. Not this time. You would not flinch.

Her breath came slow, deep, and controlled, the way she always breathed when trying to keep her composure. Her eyes closed briefly, as though she were counting her thoughts, forcing them into place. When she opened them again, they were sharper than ever.

“You fool,” she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of it crashed down on you like a wave. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I know,” you said quickly, stepping forward, your hands gripping the back of a nearby chair. “I know what it means, Mother, but—”

“But nothing!” Alicent snapped, rising from her chair so swiftly that it scraped loudly against the stone floor. “You think love will protect you from the whispers in these halls? From the court? From your enemies?” She stepped forward, eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made you feel small again. “This child will be branded a disgrace before it even draws its first breath. You know that as well as I do.”

“I don’t care,” you said, your voice cracking but resolute. “I don’t care what they say about me. I won’t hide it. I won’t hide him.”

“Him?” Alicent’s eyes flickered with shock. “You think it will be a son? Is that why you risk everything for this?” She paced, her fingers pressed against her temples. “The lords will talk. The ladies will sneer. Do you know what they will call you? They will call you whore. They will call the child a bastard. They will call Aegon—”

“They already call him worse,” you said sharply, cutting her off.

Alicent froze, her eyes narrowing as if she had been struck. The air between you turned cold and still, like the eye of a storm.

“Do you love him?” she asked suddenly, her voice quieter now, colder.

The question hung in the air. Not a command. Not an accusation. A genuine question. One that required an honest answer.

You lowered your gaze for a moment, thinking of all the nights you’d spent in Aegon’s arms, of all the times he had pulled you close when the world felt like it was crumbling beneath you. Of how he made you feel seen, whole, and wanted.

“Yes,” you whispered, lifting your head to meet her eyes. “I love him.”

Alicent studied you for a long, unbearable moment. Her eyes, so much like yours, filled with exhaustion, pain, and something else. Resignation. Slowly, she sat back down, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She did not look at you this time. She gazed toward the window, her face stoic as stone.

For a moment, she said nothing. The silence was suffocating, thicker than smoke. Her gaze was sharp, her mind calculating, as if weighing every possible outcome. Finally, she drew in a slow breath and spoke.

“Both of them will need to hear this,” she said, her voice as cold as the winter sea. Her eyes never left yours. “Aegon and Aemond. We will not let this spiral into more chaos than it already has.”

Her words hit you like a blow to the chest. “Aemond?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “He must hear it from you, not from the whispers of court. If you think this will be resolved in quiet corners, you are mistaken. We face it now. All of us.”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest. This was no longer just your burden to bear. It was theirs too.

Moments later, you stood in Alicent’s chambers with your brothers. Aegon leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, a sly grin playing on his lips as if he already knew what was coming. His confidence was infuriating but also reassuring in its own way. He glanced at you with a flicker of warmth in his eyes, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary.

Aemond, on the other hand, stood rigid near the window, his one eye fixed on you like a predator watching its prey. His jaw was tight, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture stiff as iron. He knew something was coming. He always did.

Alicent stood between them, her face the very picture of control, though you could see the tightness in her shoulders. The queen had spent years mastering the art of appearing unshaken. But today, cracks were beginning to show.

“Tell them,” Alicent said, her voice calm but commanding.

You glanced at her briefly before turning your gaze to Aemond and Aegon. Your heart felt as though it might break free of your ribs, but you forced yourself to stand tall. You would not falter.

“I am with child,” you said, your voice strong despite the tremor in your chest. The words echoed through the chamber, sharp and cutting.

Aegon’s grin widened, his eyes flickering with something smug but also protective. He pushed off the wall and sauntered forward, his gaze never leaving yours, his voice thick with pride as he glanced at Aemond. “And it's mine.”

Aemond’s face was still for a moment. No reaction. Not a twitch. Not a blink. Just silence.

Then, slowly, his head turned toward you, his gaze burning with quiet fury. Not rage. Not disbelief. But something colder.

The weight of your mother’s decision pressed down on you like a storm brewing on the horizon. Her words echoed in your mind, unrelenting and absolute.

“The annulment will be reversed,” she had said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I will speak with the High Septon myself.”

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, every breath feeling heavier than the last. Your gaze flickered to Aemond. He was silent, his face a mask of cold indifference, but his eye lingered on you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. His jaw was set, his lips pressed into a thin line, but you could see the flicker of something more beneath it — possession, triumph, control.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms as you fought to steady yourself. This was not a decision made for you. It was a decision made about you.

Then your gaze shifted to Aegon. He stood at your side, his face a mixture of defiance and disbelief. His eyes darted between you, Aemond, and Alicent, and for the first time, he didn’t look like the carefree, reckless man you had always known. He looked angry. No, more than that — he looked ready to fight.

“Mother,” Aegon’s voice was sharp, sharper than you had ever heard it. “This is madness. You can’t just undo it as if none of it ever happened.”

Alicent’s eyes snapped to Aegon, her gaze hard as steel. “I can, and I will. This family is not yours to break apart as you please, Aegon.”

“You think this will bring us peace?” Aegon stepped forward, his voice rising, his arms outstretched as he motioned to all of you. “Look at us! Look at her!” He pointed to you, his eyes filled with frustration and something dangerously close to heartbreak. “Do you think she wants this? Do you think I will let you throw her back into his arms after everything he’s done?”

Alicent’s face tightened, her lips pursed in disapproval. “This is not about what she wants, Aegon. It is about duty. It is about honor.”

“Duty?” Aegon scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he approached her, his voice dropping to a low, biting whisper. “Is it duty that made Aemond lie with Helaena? Is it duty that made you look away when he broke her heart and mine?”

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Alicent’s face paled, her mouth opening slightly as if to protest, but no words came. You could see it in her eyes — the guilt, the knowledge that Aegon’s words had struck where it hurt most.

You felt it too. The truth of it burned in your chest like wildfire. It wasn’t just you who had suffered. It wasn’t just you who had been betrayed. Aegon had, too.

Aemond shifted from where he stood, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “You speak too much, brother,” he said coldly, his eye locking on Aegon. “You always have.”

“And you think too highly of yourself, brother,” Aegon shot back, his grin wild and sharp. “If you think she will ever love you again, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

“Enough!” Alicent’s voice sliced through the tension, her eyes blazing with fury. “This is not a choice for any of you to make. It is mine. I will do what is necessary to protect this family from scandal and ruin.”

Her gaze then shifted to you, and for a moment, you saw her soften, her eyes filled with something like regret. She stepped forward, her voice quieter but no less firm. “You will do this, my child. For your children. For your honor. This is the only way.”

Silence.

You glanced at Aemond, whose eye was now locked on you with unwavering focus. He didn’t smile, but there was something victorious in his expression, like a man who had won a war without ever lifting a blade.

Your heart twisted with disgust.

You turned to Aegon. He was already watching you, his eyes filled with so much worry, so much hurt, and for the first time, you saw something you had never seen in him before. Fear. Not for himself. For you.

You stepped toward him, slowly but with purpose, your gaze never leaving his face. His brows furrowed in confusion, his eyes flickering with hope and doubt all at once.

Then you reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. Your fingers pressed against the fabric of his tunic, grounding him, grounding yourself. You met his gaze, steady and unwavering.

Then, you turned to face your mother.

“I will do as you command, Mother,” you said, your voice calm, deliberate. “If that is your decision, I will not fight it.”

Aegon flinched as if you’d struck him, his eyes wide with disbelief. “No,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “No, you don’t have to do this.”

Alicent tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in approval, as if she had known you would see reason. She nodded once, her lips pressing into a thin smile. “Good. You are wiser than I thought.”

But you weren’t finished.

You turned back to Alicent, your eyes burning with something fierce, something unyielding. “But if I am to return to Aemond,” you continued, your voice rising just enough to command attention, “then let me be clear. I will not suffer in silence. I will not endure betrayal and deceit. If I return, it will be as his equal, not his possession.”

The room went still.

Aemond’s face twisted, his eye narrowing in challenge. “You forget your place, wife,” he said slowly, dangerously.

“No,” you said, stepping forward, not afraid this time. “It is you who forgot mine.”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His silence was more telling than any words he could have spoken.

You turned to your mother once more, your chin lifted high. “I will follow your command, Mother. But I will not be silent. And I will not be meek.”

For a moment, Alicent said nothing, her eyes flickering between you, Aemond, and Aegon. Then, slowly, she gave a single nod. “Very well.”

Her eyes softened, but there was sadness there. “Go now. Rest. I will speak to the High Septon myself.”

You didn’t wait for permission. You turned away, your hand still on Aegon’s shoulder. As you walked past him, you felt him reach for you, his fingers gently curling around your arm.

“Don’t do this,” he said, his voice low and broken. “Don’t give her what she wants.”

You glanced back at him, seeing the desperation in his eyes. You squeezed his arm once before pulling away.

“I’m not giving her what she wants,” you said quietly. “I’m giving them what they fear.”

Aegon’s eyes widened, his lips parting as if to say something, but you were already walking away. Each step was heavier than the last, but each step was also stronger. You felt their eyes on you — Aemond’s, Alicent’s, Aegon’s — but you did not falter.

Not anymore.

If you were to return to Aemond’s side, you would not be his shadow.

You would be his storm.

You walked steadily down the corridor, your mind racing with every step. The echoes of your footsteps were joined by another — heavier, deliberate, and unwavering. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

Aemond.

His presence was like a shadow, ever-watchful, ever-looming. The closer you got to your chamber door, the louder his footsteps became, a slow, deliberate drumbeat behind you. You quickened your pace, heart pounding in your chest.

But it wasn’t fast enough.

The moment you reached the door, his hand shot out, pressing it shut before you could open it. Before you could react, you felt him behind you — his chest firm against your back, his arms sliding slowly, possessively, around your waist. His breath was hot against your ear, his movements slow but inescapable.

“You can run from me, you can defy me,” he whispered, his voice low, dangerous, and all too familiar. “But you will never escape me.”

His hand slid down, gentle yet firm, resting on your stomach. The touch was light, deliberate, and far too intimate. His fingers moved slowly, tracing small, idle circles over the fabric that covered your belly. Your breath caught in your throat, rage, fear, and something darker mixing together in your chest.

“This child you carry…” he murmured, his lips so close to your ear that you could feel every breath. “It may be his, but it changes nothing. You are mine.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine — not from fear, but from fury. Your teeth clenched, your nails dug into your palms as you willed yourself to stay still, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you tremble.

“You hear me, don’t you?” he pressed on, his grip on your stomach tightening just slightly. “No matter what happens, no matter whose child it is… you will always be mine. Not his. Never his.”

You closed your eyes, your breath shallow, trying to block out the feeling of him against you. But his presence was all-consuming, suffocating.

“Say it,” he commanded softly, his voice like silk over steel. “Say you understand.”

Your eyes snapped open, burning with defiance. Slowly, you placed your hand over his, gripping his fingers tightly. But it wasn’t the gesture of surrender he expected. You squeezed, hard enough to make him feel it. Hard enough to remind him that you weren’t as fragile as he liked to believe.

“If you think I will ever belong to you again, you are a fool, Aemond,” you hissed through clenched teeth, your voice sharp as a blade. “This child may not be yours, but know this — I am not yours either.”

You pulled his hand away from your stomach, stepping forward out of his hold. Your breath was heavy, your heart pounding, but you did not stop. Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes locked onto his.

He stared at you, his eye narrowing, his lips curving into a bitter smirk. “Is that what you believe?” he asked softly, tilting his head as if examining you. “You think you’re free of me?”

You raised your chin, your gaze cold and unwavering. “I know I am.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you crackled with tension, the silence louder than any words. His smirk faded, his eye dark with something far more dangerous than anger — obsession.

He stepped forward, slow and purposeful, closing the distance you had just created. But this time, you didn’t back away. You met him head-on, your eyes sharp with unyielding resolve.

“If you touch me again without my permission,” you said quietly, your voice steady as a storm on the horizon, “I will show you that I am not as weak as you think I am.”

His gaze flickered, just for a moment, his jaw tightening. But he didn’t touch you again. Not this time.

Instead, he leaned in, his voice low, quiet enough that only you could hear. “You’ll see soon enough, sweet wife,” he murmured, his eye never leaving yours. “No matter where you run, no matter who stands at your side, you will always come back to me.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, his pace slow, deliberate, as if he had already won.

But you stood there, your heart steady now, your breath even. Because for the first time in a long while, you knew something that he didn’t.

You weren’t his anymore.

And you never would be again.

Time moved swiftly, and your pregnancy had now reached its fifth month. The days in the Red Keep felt longer, yet each one blended into the next. Your body had changed, your belly round with the life growing inside you. The weight of it was both a burden and a blessing.

You often found yourself walking in the garden, seeking peace among the blooming flowers. But peace was a luxury you no longer had. Aemond was always there.

He walked beside you, silent but watchful, his sharp gaze never straying from you. His presence was a shadow you could not shake. His hand was a constant, resting on the small of your back or lightly gripping your waist, steady and possessive. At first, you’d tried to brush him off, but his grip would only tighten, his touch firm yet calculated.

You hated it.

It wasn’t the touch itself that you loathed — it was the meaning behind it. It wasn’t affection. It was ownership. A reminder that, in his mind, you were still his.

But what made it worse was Aegon.

Every time the three of you crossed paths, you saw the way Aegon’s eyes flickered with barely restrained rage. His gaze would lock on Aemond’s hand at your waist, his jaw clenching so tight you could almost hear it. His hands would curl into fists, his lips pressed into a thin line. You knew exactly what Aemond was doing.

He was doing it on purpose.

Every glance, every touch, every lingering second his hand stayed on you — it was all for Aegon. To provoke him. To remind him. To declare, without words, that you were not his.

You felt like a pawn in their silent war. Every look they exchanged felt like a strike in an invisible battle. Aemond’s grip would tighten just a little more whenever Aegon drew near, and Aegon’s eyes would darken as if he were seconds away from lunging forward.

Once, Aegon had stepped forward, eyes blazing, his lips parting to say something. But you had caught his gaze and shook your head, silently pleading with him. Not here. Not now.

He’d stopped himself, but his eyes never left you. They were filled with something deeper than anger. Hurt. Longing.

The nights in the Red Keep were cold, quieter than usual, but not for you. Your chambers, once a place of solace, had become a shared space with Aemond once more. It had not been your choice. He had demanded it.

At first, you had argued, protested, even sought your mother’s support. But Alicent, ever the mediator, had insisted it was for “appearances” — that it would “ease tensions.” You knew it was a lie. It was control. Aemond’s control.

So now, every night, you endured it. You lay on one side of the bed, eyes on the distant wall, while his presence loomed behind you. Sometimes you heard the sound of him sharpening his dagger, the slow, deliberate scrape of metal on stone. Other nights, it was the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing.

But you never turned to face him. You never acknowledged him.

Tonight was no different. His gaze lingered on you longer than usual. You could feel it. The weight of it pressed against your back like a brand. You bit your lip, holding in the urge to tell him to stop.

No. Not tonight.

Slowly, you sat up, your hand resting on your rounded belly, feeling the gentle kick of the child within you. You ran your fingers across it, soothing both the child and yourself. Without a word, you slipped out of bed, letting your bare feet meet the cold stone floor.

“Where are you going?” His voice was sharp but quiet, like a dagger in the dark.

You didn’t answer him. You didn’t even look at him. Your feet moved steadily, step by step, toward the door. You expected him to call for you again, to stop you, to demand you return to him.

But he didn’t.

The cool night air hit you as you stepped into the corridor. It was dimly lit by flickering torches mounted on the stone walls. The silence of the night was broken only by the soft echo of your footsteps and the faint hum of distant voices from guards on watch.

You didn’t care.

Your hand stayed on your belly as you walked, the warmth of your palm against the growing life within you giving you strength. You didn’t know where you were going at first, but your heart did. Your feet carried you with purpose, with longing.

Toward him.

Toward Aegon.

You missed him. You missed the warmth of his arms, the way he held you without hesitation. You missed his laugh, his sly remarks that never failed to bring a smile to your face, even on the darkest days. With him, you didn’t feel like a pawn or a prize to be fought over. With him, you were just you.

When you reached his door, you hesitated for a moment, glancing behind you to ensure no one had followed. The corridor was empty. Silent. Safe.

You raised your hand and knocked once, softly.

A moment later, the door creaked open. Aegon stood there, his silver hair tousled, his eyes heavy with sleep. But the moment he saw you, that sleepiness vanished. His eyes softened, filling with something warmer than you had felt in weeks.

“You’re here,” he said quietly, stepping aside to let you in.

You didn’t speak. You simply stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you. The weight of the day, of Aemond, of everything — it all slipped from your shoulders the moment you were in his arms.

He pulled you close, his hand cupping the back of your head as he pressed his lips against your hair. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m always here.”

And for the first time that day, you breathed. Truly breathed.

The night felt endless, but for once, it was not in a way that brought you dread. It was warmth, safety, and peace. Aegon’s arms around you were a haven.

You lay against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Each beat matched the rise and fall of his breath, slow and steady. His hand rested on your swollen belly, fingers moving in soft, slow circles that lulled you into tranquility. Every so often, he pressed a kiss to your hair, your temple, or the curve of your cheek.

“You should sleep,” he whispered, his voice husky with weariness but full of tenderness. His thumb brushed along your jawline as he tilted your face toward him. “You and the babe need rest.”

You tilted your head up, eyes meeting his in the low glow of the hearth. “I don’t want to sleep,” you murmured, your fingers curling into his tunic. “Not yet.”

You didn’t have to explain why. He understood. You didn’t want to let go of this moment. Of him.

With Aemond, you felt like something to be claimed, to be possessed. His grip on you had always been firm — unyielding, controlling. But with Aegon, it was different. He held you like you were something precious, not something he owned, but something he cherished. He didn’t tighten his hold when you moved, didn’t pull you back when you tried to leave.

And that freedom — that trust — made you stay.

“Then stay awake,” he said softly, resting his chin on top of your head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His hand continued to glide over your belly, slow and certain, his fingertips light but firm enough to ground you. You closed your eyes, not to sleep, but to feel him more clearly. The babe stirred within you, responding to the warmth of his touch. It made you smile.

“They know you,” you said, a soft laugh escaping you. “They always move when you’re near.”

He hummed a laugh of his own, low and soft in his chest. “Of course they do. I’m their father.”

His words echoed in your heart. Father. A title that once belonged to someone else. Someone who, for all his sharp wit and intelligence, never made you feel like this. Not like Aegon did.

He tilted your face toward him once more, his gaze searching yours as if he could feel the shift in your thoughts. “Stay with me,” he said quietly, not as a command, but as a plea. “Stay with me, and I’ll give you everything. No one will ever touch you again.”

You stared at him for a moment, taking in the sincerity in his eyes. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe. Like you could be free.

“I’m already here,” you whispered, leaning forward to press your lips softly against his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His breath hitched, and you felt his arms tighten just slightly around you. But unlike Aemond, it wasn’t suffocating. It was safe. It was home.

The warmth between you and Aegon vanished the moment the door slammed open with a deafening crash. The sharp sound echoed through the room like a crack of thunder.

Aemond stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling with every heavy breath, his eye blazing with fury. His gaze locked on you and Aegon, his face twisted with something darker than anger - possession.

Before either of you could react, Aemond closed the distance in long, deliberate strides. His hand shot out, his fingers curling tightly around your arm.

"Get up," he snarled, his voice cold and commanding. "Now."

You gasped, feeling the sharp sting of his grip.

"Let me go, Aemond!" you shouted, trying to twist out of his hold, but his fingers only dug in harder. "You're hurting me!"

"You think I care?" he hissed, his face inches from yours. His single eye burned with something wild, untamed, and his grip only grew more unyielding. "You're coming with me. Now."

Aegon was on his feet in an instant. The air in the room shifted, heavy with tension as he stepped forward, placing himself between you and Aemond. "Let her go, brother," he said with a sharp edge to his voice, his eyes narrowed in warning. "Now."

Aemond's lips curled into a bitter, joyless smile. "Step aside, Aegon," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Everything about her has to do with me," Aegon shot back, his voice steadier than you'd ever heard it. He reached for you, his hand curling around your other arm in a protective grip. "She's not going anywhere with you."

Aemond's patience snapped. With a sudden, sharp tug, he yanked you toward him with enough force to make you stumble. Pain shot up your arm as his grip turned ironclad, his fingers pressing into your skin so hard you knew it would leave a bruise.

"Aemond, stop!" you cried, twisting against him, but he didn't let go.

Aegon stepped forward, his eyes wild with anger. "I said, let her go!" he barked, his voice louder now, filled with a raw kind of rage that rarely surfaced in him. He grabbed Aemond's wrist, his nails digging into his brother's skin. "I'm not asking, brother."

"She is my wife!" Aemond shouted, his voice breaking like thunder. His body tensed, and for a moment, it felt like the world itself was about to split in two. "Mine! Not yours, Aegon!"

"She's not yours, Aemond." Aegon's voice was eerily calm, his grip on Aemond's wrist firm and unyielding. "She hasn't been yours for a long time. And you know it."

The words struck harder than any blade.

Aemond's eye twitched, his jaw tightening so hard it looked like he might break his teeth. His gaze flickered to you for a moment - and in that moment, you saw something raw and desperate beneath all that fury. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by cold, steely resolve.

"If you think you can take her from me," Aemond said, his voice a venomous whisper, his gaze fixed on Aegon, "then you're more of a fool than I thought."

"Try me," Aegon growled, his eyes narrowed, unflinching.

The room felt suffocating, every breath you took shallow and quick. You could feel Aemond's grip loosening, just a little — but it was enough. You pulled back with everything you had, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I am not yours, Aemond," you said with a voice stronger than you thought you had. "I am not a prize to be fought over."

His eye snapped to you, sharp and burning with something between pain and fury. "Don't think for a moment that he'll love you the way I do," he said, his voice quieter now but just as cutting. "He will ruin you."

"No," you replied, your voice steady as your eyes met his. "You already did."

You stood frozen, eyes locked on Aemond, his hand gripping your wrist with unyielding force. His fingers dug into your skin, and no amount of pulling or twisting seemed to loosen his hold. His breaths came in sharp, angry bursts, his chest rising and falling like a man barely clinging to control.

Your gaze shifted to Aegon, who stood just beside him. Aemond's other hand was pressed against Aegon's throat, pinning him against the wall. Aegon struggled, his face twisted in pain, but he still managed to shoot Aemond a defiant glare. His hands gripped Aemond's forearm, trying to pry him off.

"Stop it, Aemond!" Your voice was sharp, laced with urgency. You tugged at his arm, trying to break his focus. "Please, let him go."

He didn't move. His gaze shifted to you - cold, calculating, and yet, behind it, something more. Obsession. Possession.

"He needs to learn," Aemond growled, his grip on Aegon tightening. "He thinks he can take what's mine. Thinks he can touch what belongs to me." His voice was low, dangerous, every word like the sharp edge of a blade. "But I'll remind him. I'll remind you too."

Your heart pounded in your chest, every beat a sharp thud against your ribs. You stepped closer, ignoring the ache in your wrist, ignoring the fear clawing at your chest. Your voice was softer now but firm. "Aemond... if you want me to come back with you, I will."

That got his attention. His eye flickered to you, his brows drawn together, suspicion laced with disbelief.

"I'll go with you," you repeated, holding his gaze steadily. "But you have to let him go." Your voice didn't waver, even though your body trembled. "This isn't the way. Please."

There was a long, agonizing pause. Aemond's breathing slowed, his gaze moving between you and Aegon. Slowly, his grip on Aegon's throat loosened, his fingers sliding away. Aegon gasped for air, coughing as he rubbed at his neck, his eyes still blazing with anger.

"Don't think this is over, brother," Aemond muttered coldly, his gaze never leaving Aegon as he finally released him.

Aegon coughed, his eyes filled with defiance despite the redness blooming on his neck.

"No," Aegon rasped, wiping his mouth. "It's far from over."

Aemond tugged on your arm, forcing you to stumble forward. You shot one last glance at Aegon, heart aching at the sight of him like this. His eyes met yours, a silent plea for you not to go. But you had no choice. Not now.

"Walk," Aemond commanded, his voice sharp but quieter now. He didn't look at you as he pulled you down the corridor. "If you run, I'll drag you."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, keeping your eyes forward, your heart heavy with every step. Behind you, you could hear Aegon calling your name, but his voice grew distant with every step you took.

Aemond's grip on your wrist remained firm, his fingers like iron shackles that refused to yield. His pace was relentless, each step echoing through the empty corridors as you struggled to keep up. Your heart pounded in your chest, not just from the speed, but from the growing dread that settled deep in your bones.

When you finally reached your shared chamber, Aemond shoved the door open with a force that made it bang against the wall. He pulled you inside, releasing your wrist only to grab your face with his hand. His fingers pressed firmly into your cheeks, tilting your head upward so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Look at me," he hissed, his eye boring into yours, cold and unyielding like steel. "You seem to have forgotten something very important."

You blinked, your breathing quick and shallow.

"Aemond-"

he snapped, his voice low and razor-sharp, each word cutting deeper than the last.

"No more excuses. No more lies. You are mine." His grip tightened, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. "No one else. Not Aegon. Not anyone."

Your eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape, looking for anything that might help you. But there was nowhere to run. No one to call for.

"You think I don't see it?" he continued, his voice dangerously quiet now, a slow burn of rage that simmered just beneath the surface.

"The way he looks at you. The way you let him touch you." His lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Do you think that I'll stand by and watch while he takes what's mine?"

"I'm not a possession, Aemond," you said firmly, but your voice trembled. "You can't control me."

His smile vanished in an instant. His face hardened, and for a moment, you thought you saw something break inside him. Slowly, he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing harsh and uneven.

"If I can't control you," he whispered, his voice laced with venom, "then I will control everything around you." His eye flickered, wild and untamed. "I will burn it all if I must.Do you understand me?" His breath was hot against your skin, his words colder than ice. "I will destroy anyone who stands in my way. Mother. Aegon. It doesn't matter. No one will take you from me."

Fear gripped you for the first time in a way you had never felt before. This was no longer anger. This was obsession. This was madness. Your breathing grew shallow, heart racing as you felt the weight of his words sink in.

Aemond never spoke threats lightly. He never said anything he didn't mean. And this... this wasn't a warning. This was a promise.

"Please, Aemond," you pleaded, your voice softer now, your hands coming up to grip his wrists. "Don't do this. You don't have to do this."

"But I do," he whispered, his voice like silk over steel. His eye searched yours, softer now, but still dangerous. "Because if I lose you..." He trailed off, his jaw clenching. "I won't lose you."

He finally released your face, and you stumbled back, your chest heaving as you fought to stay calm. Your fingers brushed against your belly instinctively. His gaze followed the movement, his eye lingering there for a moment. You took a step back, keeping your eyes on him, never turning away. The distance felt like a fragile shield, ready to shatter at any moment.

"Rest," he said, his voice eerily calm now. "I'll stay tonight." He moved to unfasten his leather jerkin, as though he had not just threatened to destroy everything you loved.

Your heart pounded as you backed away toward the bed. For the first time, you weren't sure if you were safe anymore - not from him, and not from what he would do.

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows as you made your way to your mother’s chambers. Your steps were slow, every movement weighed down by exhaustion and the dull ache radiating from your wrist. You kept your hand close to your side, fingers gently curled to hide the fresh bruises that marred your skin. The blue and purple marks stood out starkly against your pale complexion, a cruel reminder of Aemond’s grip from the night before.

The familiar scent of lavender and freshly pressed linens filled the air as you entered her chambers. Your mother stood near the mirror, her back to you, as her handmaid carefully fastened the intricate laces of her gown. She glanced at you through the reflection of the mirror, her green eyes narrowing with quiet observation.

“You’re late,” she remarked, her tone sharp but not unkind. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, her gaze sweeping over you as if searching for something. “Sit,” she added with a tilt of her head toward the chair near the window.

You moved to sit, your movements careful and deliberate. Your heart pounded in your chest, every glance she sent your way feeling like she might see through you — see everything. The fabric of your sleeve shifted as you sat, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you thought she might notice the bruising.

Her gaze flickered to you once more, her brow slightly furrowed. “You look pale,” she said, dismissing the handmaid with a flick of her fingers. The servant bowed her head and left the room, the soft click of the door closing behind her.

Your mother turned fully to face you, arms crossed, her sharp eyes now fully focused on you. “Are you unwell?” she asked, her voice quieter now but no less commanding.

You shook your head quickly, forcing a small, unconvincing smile. “No, Mother. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Her gaze lingered on you, her eyes narrowing in that way she always did when she knew something was being kept from her. She stepped closer.

“Show me your hands,” she ordered suddenly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Your heart stopped. “Mother, I’m fine—”

“Show me,” she said again, her voice sharper this time.

Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your dress, panic rising in your chest. You glanced at the door, as if it might offer you some escape, but it didn’t. Slowly, reluctantly, you raised your hands, keeping your sleeves as far down as possible.

Her eyes narrowed even further. “Pull up your sleeves.”

“Mother, please, it’s nothing—”

Her patience snapped. She stepped forward and grabbed your wrist with a speed you hadn’t expected, yanking your sleeve up before you could stop her. Her eyes landed on the bruise, the ugly blues and purples staining your skin. Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching in her throat.

Her face shifted from confusion to horror, then to something colder, more dangerous. Her grip on your wrist tightened, not in anger at you, but in sheer disbelief. “Who did this to you?” Her voice was low, each word deliberate and sharp like the edge of a blade.

Your eyes darted away, heart racing. You didn’t want to say it. Saying it would make it real.

Her eyes followed your gaze, and slowly, realization dawned on her face. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled slowly. “Aemond,” she said his name like a curse, as if the mere sound of it tasted bitter on her tongue.

She released your wrist, her fingers lingering there for a moment as if she wanted to pull you into an embrace but didn’t know how. Her eyes softened for a moment, but only a moment. Her jaw clenched, and you saw the familiar look of resolve settle on her face.

“This ends now,” she said firmly. “You are not his to break.” Her words hit you harder than you expected. Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall.

“You’ll stay here with me tonight,” she added, her voice leaving no room for argument. “No one will touch you without answering to me.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt something akin to hope. Maybe this time, she wouldn’t look away. Maybe this time, she would fight for you.

You lowered your gaze, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to keep your composure. “Please, Mother,” you whispered, your voice strained with desperation. “Forget it. Don’t do anything. Don’t say anything to him.”

Alicent’s eyes narrowed with concern as she moved closer to you, her hand gently cupping your cheek. “I won’t stand by while he treats you like this,” she said firmly, her voice filled with quiet resolve. “You are my daughter. No man, not even Aemond, will lay a hand on you and walk away unscathed.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you grabbed her hand, clutching it tightly. “You don’t understand, Mother,” you said, your voice breaking with emotion. “He’s not the same anymore. He won’t care who you are. He said it himself — no one can stop him. Not you. Not even Aegon.”

Alicent’s eyes flickered with something dangerous — not fear, but fury. Her grip on your face tightened ever so slightly. “Then he is more of a fool than I thought,” she said coldly. “He forgets who raised him. He forgets that I am still his mother, and I have not forgotten how to protect my own.”

“No!” you cried, shaking your head frantically. “Please, Mother, I’m begging you. Don’t provoke him. He’s not thinking clearly. He’s not like he used to be.” Your voice broke, and you felt the tears spill down your cheeks. “If you push him, he’ll do something reckless. To you. To Aegon. To everyone.”

Her eyes softened as she saw the fear in you, her strong, brave daughter now reduced to a trembling shadow of herself. Alicent knelt in front of you, her hands resting on your knees. “Listen to me, my sweet girl,” she said softly, looking up at you with a mother’s fierce love. “You are not alone in this. You have me. You have Aegon. You have all of us. Aemond is not as untouchable as he thinks.”

You shook your head again, heart pounding in your chest. “He’ll never let me go, Mother,” you whispered, tears streaming freely now. “He’ll always find a way to control me. He’ll hurt Aegon if he has to.” Your hands clutched at hers, eyes wild with fear. “Please, Mother. If you care for me at all, don’t challenge him. Just let it go.”

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line as she gazed at you, torn between anger and heartache. Slowly, she pulled you into a hug, cradling your head against her shoulder. Her hand stroked your hair gently, just like she used to when you were a child.

“Shh, it’s all right,” she murmured, her voice softer now but no less determined. “I won’t do anything to put you or Aegon in danger. But I won’t stand by and let him destroy you either. I promise you that.”

Her words were meant to soothe you, but they only made you more afraid. Because you knew Alicent. You knew that behind her calm, measured words was a storm brewing. And Aemond was reckless enough to walk straight into it.

You slowly pulled away from your mother’s embrace, wiping your eyes as you steadied yourself. Just as you were about to speak, the sound of the door creaking open drew both of your gazes toward it.

There she stood — Helaena. Her soft, serene smile as innocent as ever, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her eyes met yours, gentle and kind, as though nothing had happened. As though she hadn’t betrayed you.

Your breath caught in your throat, your body going rigid. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Your mother glanced between you both, her eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. She could sense the tension.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Helaena said softly, tilting her head. Her voice was light, so sweet and harmless that it made your chest tighten with resentment. “I just came to see Mother, but I can return later if this is a bad time.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, her eyes searching yours as if she were expecting you to say something. But you didn’t. You refused to give her that satisfaction.

“No need,” you muttered quietly, stepping back from your mother. “I was just leaving.”

Alicent’s hand brushed your arm. “Are you sure, my dear? You don’t have to go.” Her voice was concerned but firm. She could see how tense you were, how stiff your movements had become.

“I need to rest, Mother,” you said, your eyes focused on the ground. You knew if you looked at Helaena, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from glaring. “I’ll return later.”

Without waiting for a response, you moved toward the door. Your heart pounded in your chest with every step. You could feel Helaena’s eyes on you, following you like a shadow. The air felt heavier with every inch you crossed.

As you passed her, you didn’t look at her. You didn’t acknowledge her. She shifted slightly, as if she wanted to speak, but no words came. The silence between you was louder than any scream.

Once you were past her, you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your steps quickened, your heartbeat thudding in your ears as you put as much distance as possible between yourself and that room.

Her smile. Her voice. Her innocence.

All of it was a lie.

You bit your lip hard, willing yourself not to cry. Not again. You had shed too many tears already, and you refused to give her the power to cause any more.

You froze at the sound of Aegon’s voice calling your name. Panic shot through you like lightning. Your breath hitched, and your heart pounded so loudly you could hear it in your ears. You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. If Aemond was nearby, if he saw you with Aegon, there would be consequences — consequences you weren’t ready to face.

But you didn’t move either. You stood there, caught between fear and longing.

His footsteps echoed softly as he approached. You could feel him before you saw him, the familiar warmth of his presence just behind you. Slowly, he stepped in front of you, his eyes searching yours with quiet concern.

“Look at me,” Aegon said softly, tilting his head to meet your gaze. His voice wasn’t teasing or playful like usual. It was steady. Serious. “Please.”

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Your eyes stayed fixed on the ground, afraid that if you met his gaze, you’d break.

His gaze lowered, his eyes drifting to your hands. Slowly, his face changed. His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing as he took in the dark bruise on your wrist. His fingers reached out, gentle but firm, taking your hand in his.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was low, quiet, but the edge of anger beneath it was unmistakable. His thumb traced the bruise with a touch so soft it almost hurt more.

You yanked your hand back, cradling it against your chest as if to shield it from him. “It’s nothing,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Aegon’s eyes flickered, his jaw tightening. “Don’t lie to me.” His voice was sharper now, his eyes no longer soft but hard as steel. “Was it him?”

Your silence was enough of an answer.

His eyes darted down the hall, his shoulders stiffening like a predator spotting prey. His breathing grew heavier, nostrils flaring as he clenched his fists. You reached for him quickly, grabbing his sleeve with your unbruised hand.

“Don’t,” you pleaded, your voice urgent. “Please, Aegon. Not here. Not now.”

He turned his gaze back to you, and for a moment, you saw the conflict in his eyes — the war between fury and restraint. His jaw worked as he ground his teeth together, his eyes scanning every inch of your face.

“He doesn’t own you,” Aegon said, his voice rough but filled with certainty. “He never did.”

Your eyes stung with tears you refused to shed. “Please, Aegon,” you whispered again. “Just let it go.”

His eyes lingered on you a moment longer, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. But for you, he relented. He let out a heavy breath, his shoulders relaxing just a little.

“Fine,” he muttered, taking a step closer. “But I’m not letting this go forever. He’ll pay for it.”

You shook your head, fresh tears brimming in your eyes. “Don’t make it worse, Aegon. Please.”

He stared at you, his eyes full of emotions he didn’t know how to say. He reached up, his fingers lightly brushing your cheek, and for a moment, everything else melted away.

“I’ll do whatever you ask,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “But if he hurts you again, I won’t wait for your permission.”

He leaned forward, his forehead gently resting against yours. Neither of you spoke, letting the silence say what words couldn’t. For once, it felt like you weren’t carrying it all alone.

Your footsteps felt heavier with every step as you entered your chamber. The air was colder than usual, as if all warmth had been sucked out of the room. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your breath came in short, shallow gasps as your eyes settled on the figure sitting by the fire.

Aemond.

He sat in silence, one elbow resting on the arm of the chair, his fingers idly spinning a dagger. The soft glow of the fire reflected off the sharp steel, casting flickering lights across his face. His gaze was fixed on the blade, his focus so intense that it was as if you didn’t exist in the room. But you knew better. His calmness was a facade—a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

You froze near the door, every muscle in your body tense. Your throat felt tight, and the urge to cry out was almost unbearable. Your eyes darted to the door behind you, calculating the distance, wondering if you could make it before he noticed.

“Enjoying your time with our brother, hmm?” His voice cut through the silence, sharp as the edge of his dagger. His tone was low, quiet, but it held a threat that couldn’t be ignored.

The dagger stopped spinning. His fingers held it still, balancing it delicately between his thumb and forefinger. Slowly, his eye lifted to meet yours. Cold. Unforgiving. Burning with barely restrained fury.

“Not going to say anything?” he continued, tilting his head slightly like a predator watching its prey. “Or perhaps… you think I didn’t see?”

Your breath hitched, and you felt your chest tighten with fear. “Aemond… I’m tired,” you whispered, forcing yourself to sound calm even as your voice trembled. “I just want to rest.”

He stood. Slowly. Deliberately. Every movement controlled and precise, like a lion stalking forward. The dagger remained in his hand, dangling loosely but never truly at rest.

“Tired?” he repeated, his tone eerily soft, tasting the word as if it were foreign to him. “Tired of what? Of your freedom? Of the warmth he gives you?”

He took a step forward, his boots thudding softly against the stone floor. Your back pressed against the door, and your breathing quickened. You had nowhere left to go.

“He touched you, didn’t he?” His voice grew sharper, more venomous with each word. “I saw it. I saw how he looked at you like you belonged to him.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh that sent chills down your spine. “But he forgot one thing.”

He was right in front of you now, so close you could feel the heat of his body against yours. Your heart pounded in your chest as if it were trying to break free.

“You are mine,” he whispered, his voice so low it felt like a hiss of smoke curling around your ear. “No matter how many times you run to him. No matter how many times you let him touch you. In the end, you will always belong to me.”

“No,” you said, your voice cracking with the weight of your defiance. You shook your head, your eyes fierce despite the tears threatening to fall. “I am not yours, Aemond.”

His eye narrowed, and his lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. “You’re wrong.”

He lifted the dagger, the cold steel barely grazing your cheek. The touch was light, almost like a lover’s caress, but the weight of the threat behind it was suffocating.

“I don’t need a marriage to claim you,” he said, his voice colder than the blade on your skin. “I don’t need anyone’s blessing. You have been mine since the beginning. And I will make sure everyone remembers that — including you.”

The tears you had been holding back finally fell, hot trails down your cheeks. But you refused to look away. “If you love me…” your voice cracked as your throat tightened. “If you love me, you will never betray me.”

His smile disappeared instantly. His face went cold, his features carved from stone. He pulled the dagger away from your cheek, his gaze empty but somehow more terrifying than his rage.

“I love you,” he said slowly, as if it were an undeniable, absolute truth. “And that’s exactly why you will never leave.”

Without another word, he turned his back to you and walked toward the fire. He set the dagger down on a small table beside him, his movements calm, methodical, as if nothing had happened. He sat back down in the chair, folding his arms over his chest as he stared into the flames.

“Go to bed, wife,” he said, his voice unnervingly casual, as if the past few moments hadn’t happened at all.

It wasn’t a request. It was a command.

Your legs felt as if they had turned to stone. You couldn’t move. Your whole body trembled as you stared at him, watching the way his eyes remained fixed on the fire, not even glancing your way.

He didn’t have to. You knew he was still watching you.

Your eyes darted to the door behind you. Just a few steps. Just a few.

“If you step out of that door,” he said suddenly, his voice soft, almost gentle. “I will make sure Aegon never sees the sun again.”

Your heart stopped. Your eyes widened, and your gaze shot toward him. He didn’t look at you. He stared into the flames as if they were more interesting than anything you could ever say.

But you knew he wasn’t bluffing.

The tears came harder now, streaming down your face. Your hands shook as you wrapped your arms around yourself, hugging your body tightly. Slowly, painfully, you turned away from the door and took one step toward the bed. Then another.

Your heart felt heavier with every step, as if the weight of the world had settled on your shoulders. Your knees wobbled, but you forced yourself forward until you reached the edge of the bed. You sat down, your eyes fixed on the floor, your hands pressed against your growing belly.

“Good girl,” Aemond said softly, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. “You know where you belong.”

You felt yourself break. Something inside you, something you’d fought to protect, shattered.

You lowered your head, closing your eyes tightly as if shutting out the world would somehow make it all go away. But nothing could block out the cold weight of his words.

Your fingers curled over your belly, cradling the life growing inside you. Tears dripped down onto your lap, and a quiet, broken sob escaped your lips.

But there was no comfort for you here. No warmth. No safety. Only the sound of the fire crackling softly in the hearth and the quiet hum of Aemond’s breathing behind you.

You knew then that you were trapped. Not by the walls of the Red Keep. Not by your duty or your vows.

But by him.

The days passed quickly, but each one felt heavier than the last. You had grown cautious-every glance, every step, every breath weighed down by the fear of Aemond's eyes on you. His presence lingered even when he wasn't there, like a shadow that never faded.

You learned to move carefully, to avoid his gaze whenever possible. Your secret moments with Aegon became even more fleeting and hidden. You met him only in places where Aemond's eye could not reach-when he flew with Vhagar or during his training with Ser Criston. In those moments, you could breathe freely. For just a little while, you could feel like yourself again.

But every night, the suffocating weight returned. No one knew. Not your mother. Not Aegon. No one knew what happened in the darkness of your shared chamber.

Aemond's hand would grip your wrist with bruising force, dragging you to him no matter how much you resisted. You would plead with him, reminding him of your condition. "Please, Aemond, I'm carrying a child." Your voice would break, your tears falling freely.

But he never listened. His response was always the same. "i don't care, i will claim what's mine."

You stopped fighting after a while. It hurt less that way.

Every night, you lay there with tears streaming silently down your face, staring at the ceiling as he claimed what he thought belonged to him. His hands gripped you like a vice, his breath hot and sharp against your neck. Every whisper of his love felt like poison in your ears.

"You're mine," he would say, as if repeating it would make it true.

But in your heart, you knew it wasn't love. It was possession. It was control.

Every morning, you'd wake up with new bruises-faint marks on your wrists, your hips, and your neck. They lingered for days, and you covered them with sleeves and scarves, hiding them from the world. But you couldn't hide them from yourself.

Aemond would watch you dress with that same, sharp gaze. His single eye followed every movement, as if to remind you that no matter where you went, he would always be watching. You never looked at him. You never spoke to him unless absolutely necessary.

But he didn't care.

He knew. He knew you feared him. And he relished in it.

The only peace you found was in Aegon's presence. His touch was gentle. His words were soft. Sometimes he would press his forehead against yours, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders.

"Run away with me," he whispered once, his voice filled with quiet desperation. "We'll leave them all behind. I'll take you somewhere no one will ever find us."

Your eyes stung with tears. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to take his hand and run far, far away. But the image of Aemond's face flashed in your mind-the cold fury in his eye, the sharp edge of his dagger.

You knew he would hunt you to the ends of the world.

"He'll kill you, Aegon," you whispered, voice hollow. "He'll kill you just to make me watch."

Aegon cupped your face with both hands, his eyes fierce with defiance. "Let him try."

But you shook your head. "No. I won't lose you too."

Aegon pulled you close, his arms wrapped around you like a shield against the world. You buried your face in his chest, allowing yourself a moment of weakness, a moment to pretend you weren't afraid. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, soothing, steady, strong.

"I'll protect you," he vowed, his voice firm with resolve. "Even if it costs me everything."

But in the pit of your heart, you knew that protection would come at a cost. And you were terrified of what Aemond would do when he realized that the thing he cherished most-the thing he believed he owned -was slipping from his grasp.

You were now in the final month of your pregnancy, and the weight of it all — both physical and emotional — had become nearly unbearable. Your swollen belly left you confined to your chambers, your movements slow and careful. The once-familiar halls of the Red Keep now felt distant and unreachable.

Your mother visited often, her presence soothing, though her eyes always lingered on you with quiet worry. She could see it — the exhaustion in your gaze, the unspoken pain you carried. She never asked questions, but her hands would often reach for yours, squeezing them gently as if to remind you that she was still there.

Aegon visited, too. His visits were a much-needed reprieve from the storm that raged around you. He brought laughter, warmth, and stories that made you feel like you were living outside these walls. When he sat beside you, he’d rest a hand on your belly, grinning as he felt the baby’s kicks. “A little dragon with fire in their blood,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling with pride. His smile always eased your heart, if only for a moment.

But there was another presence in your chamber that refused to be ignored.

Aemond.

He allowed Aegon to enter your chambers, but only under his watchful eye. He would stand in the corner, arms crossed, his gaze cold and sharp as Valyrian steel. His presence hung in the air like a storm cloud, suffocating and ever-looming. You could feel his eye on you, always watching, always calculating.

Every glance exchanged between you and Aegon was met with the slow, deliberate clenching of Aemond’s jaw. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. The threat lingered unspoken in the room.

“You don’t have to stay,” you had said to him once, exhaustion seeping into your voice. “I’m safe enough with my brother.”

Aemond’s eye flickered toward you, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smile. “You misunderstand, dear wife,” he replied, voice low and sharp as a blade. “I don’t stay to protect you. I stay to remind him that you belong to me.”

You felt the chill of his words settle into your bones. It wasn’t protection. It was control. It had always been control.

Aegon shifted beside you, his hand still on your belly, fingers pressing firmly as if anchoring himself to you. His eyes never left Aemond, his jaw tightening, his nostrils flaring. For once, Aegon didn’t have a joke to throw at his brother. He didn’t laugh. He only stared.

“You can remind me all you want, brother,” Aegon finally said, his voice quiet but sharp. “It won’t change a thing.”

Aemond’s gaze darkened, his fingers twitching at his side. His eye moved to you, as if daring you to say something, to deny him, to challenge him. But you didn’t. You stayed silent, your hand covering Aegon’s on your belly.

Aemond noticed. Of course he did.

His lips pressed into a thin line, his hands clasping behind his back as he approached. Each step felt like the sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard. He crouched in front of you, his eye level with yours, so close you could feel his breath on your skin.

“Soon, you’ll give birth,” he said softly, his voice deceptively tender. His hand reached for your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that made your stomach twist with unease. “And when that child is born, it won’t matter whose blood runs through its veins. It will be mine. As you are mine.”

You turned your face away, but his grip on your chin forced you to look at him.

“Say it,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “Say it, my love. Say you are mine.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you bit your tongue, refusing to give him that satisfaction. His gaze searched yours, his patience waning.

Aegon’s voice shattered the moment. “Enough, Aemond.”

The air grew thick with tension. For a moment, it felt as though one wrong move would set everything ablaze. Aemond’s eye flicked toward Aegon, his lip curling into a sneer.

“Be careful, brother,” Aemond warned, his voice low with menace. “You’ve taken enough from me. Do not take her, too.”

Aegon rose slowly from the bed, his eyes locked with Aemond’s. “If she were truly yours, brother, you wouldn’t have to force her to say it.”

The silence was deafening.

Aemond stared at him for a moment longer, his breathing slow but deep, like a dragon ready to breathe fire. But then he rose to his full height, his hands still clasped behind his back. He tilted his head, his single eye narrowing in cold amusement.

“Be careful, Aegon,” he murmured as he turned on his heel, walking toward the door. “You never know which dragons bite.”

With that, he left, his footsteps echoing down the hall like thunder. The room felt lighter in his absence, but the weight on your chest remained.

Aegon sat beside you again, his hand finding yours. You clutched it tightly, your breath coming in shallow, unsteady gasps.

“He won’t touch you again,” Aegon promised, his voice low with conviction. “I won’t let him.”

But you both knew Aemond’s promises were not so easily broken.

As night fell and darkness draped itself over the world, the soft glow of moonlight spilled into your chamber, casting pale silver rays across the stone floor. You sat by the window, gazing out at the vast, endless sky, your fingers slowly tracing circles over the curve of your swollen belly. The rhythmic motion brought you a small measure of peace, a quiet reminder of the life growing within you.

But that peace did not last.

You felt him before you heard him. The subtle shift in the air. The weight of his presence behind you. His footsteps were too quiet, too deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Your heart quickened, but you didn’t move, didn’t turn. Perhaps if you stayed still, he would leave you alone.

Then, you felt it.

His fingers brushed through your hair, slow and deliberate, as though he had every right to touch you. Your body tensed immediately, every muscle going rigid, and your breath caught in your throat. The tenderness of his touch only made it worse — the careful, possessive way his fingers lingered at the ends of your silver strands, as though you were something precious that belonged to him alone.

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stay still. Do not react. Do not show fear.

But he didn’t stop.

His hand moved to the crown of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair as he leaned down. You squeezed your eyes shut, every part of you screaming to move away, but your body betrayed you, frozen in place. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the faint brush of his lips as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re too quiet tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and soft as silk, but laced with a quiet edge of danger. His lips lingered a moment longer before pulling away. “Are you afraid of me, wife?”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes stayed fixed on the window, your gaze distant as if the stars could somehow save you. Your fingers still rested on your belly, rubbing small circles as if to shield your child from the storm that lingered behind you.

Aemond’s patience was thin. It always had been.

His hand slid from your hair to your shoulder, his fingers curling around it with just enough pressure to make you feel it. “Answer me,” he said more firmly, his tone like a blade pressed against your skin. “Are you afraid of me?”

Your throat felt tight, as though it had been closed off with chains. For a moment, you thought of Aegon’s words. “He won’t touch you again. I won’t let him.” But Aegon wasn’t here. It was just you and him. It had always been just you and him in this room, in this prison masquerading as a marriage.

You swallowed hard, forcing down the fear that clawed at your chest. Slowly, you turned your head just enough to glance at him from the corner of your eye. His face was calm, too calm, his eye watching you intently, sharp and unblinking. The firelight from the hearth behind him flickered, casting shadows over the sharp angles of his face, making him look like something carved from stone.

“No,” you said quietly, your voice hollow. “I’m tired, that’s all.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his eye narrowing as if he were trying to see past your words, past your mask. Slowly, his grip on your shoulder loosened, his fingers sliding away, but not before brushing against your skin one last time.

“Rest then,” he said, his voice a whisper of command. “You’ll need your strength soon.”

He walked away, his boots clicking softly against the stone floor. You didn’t turn to watch him go. Your eyes stayed on the stars. Your fingers pressed more firmly against your belly as if your child could feel your silent plea for strength.

Behind you, you heard him settle onto the bed. The quiet rustle of fabric. The shift of weight as he leaned back against the pillows. The room felt colder with him in it.

You stayed by the window for a while longer, counting each breath, each second, until you were certain his gaze was no longer on you. Only then did you allow yourself a quiet, shuddering breath.

He called you to the bed, his voice low but commanding, leaving little room for refusal. Your heart sank, but you knew there was no escaping it. Slowly, with quiet, measured steps, you approached, each movement feeling heavier than the last. The weight of his gaze bore down on you like chains, unyielding and inescapable.

He watched you intently, his sharp eye tracking your every move, and when you sat on the edge of the bed, he tilted his head, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice as smooth as silk, but it sent a chill down your spine.

You lay down beside him, your movements stiff and mechanical. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and you tried to keep your breathing steady, calm, though every muscle in your body was tight with tension.

He turned toward you, his long silver hair falling over his face, the firelight catching on its strands, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

His fingers brushed against your cheek, tracing the curve of your face with an unsettling gentleness. You didn't flinch, didn't move — you'd learned that it only made him more persistent.

"Look at you," he said softly, as if in awe. "So quiet, so obedient tonight." His thumb lingered at the corner of your mouth, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. "I could almost believe you've finally accepted your place."

You didn't respond. Your eyes stayed fixed on a distant point beyond him, unfocused, your breathing shallow but steady. His thumb pressed lightly against your lower lip, tilting your face toward him, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Don't look away," he whispered, his voice gentle but firm. "You're mine. You always will be."

Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips pressing against yours. It wasn't harsh or forceful, but that only made it worse. It was slow, deliberate — the way a man kisses something he believes belongs to him. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss.

You didn't move.

You didn't push him away, but you didn't kiss him back either. Your lips were still, unmoving, cold. You knew better than to resist outright, but giving in was something you would not do.

Not tonight. Not ever.

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, his eye narrowing as he studied your face. For a moment, it felt as though he might say something - a rebuke, a threat, a reminder of who you belonged to. But he didn't. His hand lingered on your face, his fingers trailing down your jawline, before resting lightly on your throat.

He could feel your pulse there. He always did this, as if he needed to remind you how fragile you were in his hands.

"One day, you'll stop fighting me," he said quietly, almost like a promise. "One day, you'll see that there's no one else who will ever love you like I do."

His hand slipped away from your throat, and he settled back onto his pillow, closing his eye as if nothing had happened. You stayed still, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, your heart pounding in your chest.

You gripped your mother’s hand tightly as a sharp wave of pain tore through you, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. Sweat clung to your skin, your back arched as you cried out. The maester and midwives moved around you with practiced urgency, their voices a blur of instructions and reassurances. But none of it reached you. All you could hear was the pounding of your heart and the sound of your own labored breathing.

Tears streamed down your face as you turned your gaze toward your mother. “Please,” you sobbed, voice hoarse from exertion. “Please, let Aegon in. I need him.”

Her eyes softened with concern, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, she didn’t answer, torn between your plea and her sense of propriety. Her fingers brushed your damp hair away from your forehead, offering comfort, but it wasn’t enough. “He’s right outside,” she said, her voice soothing but firm. “You’re strong, my sweet girl. You can do this.”

“No!” you gasped, clutching at her hand as another contraction hit, fiercer than the last. Your body trembled, and you shook your head violently, eyes wild with desperation. “I need him, Mother! Please, I need him with me!”

Her eyes darted toward the door, hesitation clear on her face. She knew who else was waiting outside. Aemond. His presence lingered like a shadow even beyond the thick wood of the door. Her gaze returned to you, torn but seeing the raw fear and pain in your eyes.

“Very well,” she relented at last, brushing her lips against your temple. “Stay strong, my love. I’ll bring him.”

Her hand slipped from yours, and you watched her figure retreat toward the door, her skirts swishing behind her. Your breath came in shallow, broken gasps as you tried to focus on anything but the pain. You heard the faint creak of the door and muffled voices beyond it.

The sound of heavy footsteps filled the air.

Aegon’s voice came first — louder, more insistent. “Move, Aemond.” His tone was sharp, like steel drawn from its scabbard. “She needs me.”

“She doesn’t need you,” Aemond’s voice followed, cold and controlled but laced with something darker beneath it. “She has me. She doesn’t need anyone else.”

“Don’t make me push you aside, brother,” Aegon hissed, closer now, each footstep deliberate and unyielding. “I’m going in.”

There was a tense pause, then the heavy thud of something — or someone — hitting the wall. The door swung open wider, and for a moment, you thought Aemond might follow. But it was Aegon who entered, his eyes locked on you, face twisted with concern. His gaze softened the instant he saw you, taking in your tear-streaked face, your trembling form, and your outstretched hand reaching for him.

“I’m here,” he breathed, rushing to your side and falling to his knees next to the bed. His hands were warm as they clasped yours, his fingers curling around yours like he was anchoring you to the world. “I’m here, love. I’m not leaving you.”

Your sobs broke free at his words, and you squeezed his hand like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “Don’t let him in,” you whispered frantically, your eyes darting to the door. “Don’t let Aemond in.”

Aegon’s jaw tensed, his eyes flicking toward the door, where the shadow of his brother lingered just beyond the threshold. He glanced at your mother, exchanging a silent understanding. Her eyes were sharp as she moved to block the doorway, her stance unyielding.

“No one will come near you,” Aegon vowed, his eyes never leaving yours. “Not him. Not anyone. It’s just you and me now.”

The pain came again, searing and unrelenting, and your cry filled the room. Aegon’s forehead pressed to yours, his voice a low, steady murmur in your ear. “Breathe with me,” he said, his breath warm and familiar. “In and out. Just like that. We’ll do it together.”

And together, you endured.

The pain was unbearable, sharper than any blade, hotter than any flame. You screamed, your voice hoarse from the strain, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t do this!” you cried, your breath coming in short, frantic gasps. “I can’t, Aegon! I can’t!”

Your body trembled with exhaustion, every muscle burning with effort. Panic clawed at your mind, the weight of it crushing you as you shook your head in denial. Your eyes locked onto Aegon’s, wild and desperate.

He cupped your face, his thumb brushing away your tears with a tenderness that contrasted with the storm of pain inside you. His gaze held no doubt, only fierce determination. “Yes, you can,” he said, his voice low but steady, like an anchor in the chaos. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Look at me, love. Look at me."

You blinked, trying to focus on his face as everything around you blurred into the background. The soft glow of the firelight, the hurried voices of the maester and midwives, even the sound of your mother’s quiet prayers—all of it faded away until it was just him.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, letting them linger there for a moment longer than necessary. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was warm, a promise wrapped in steel. “One more push. Just one more, love.”

The maester’s voice cut in. “It’s time. Push now, my lady. You’re almost there!”

Your whole body shook as you gripped Aegon’s hand so tightly that you were certain you’d break his fingers. But he didn’t flinch. He only squeezed back, grounding you, giving you something to hold on to.

With a cry that tore from the deepest part of your soul, you bore down with all the strength you had left. Every fiber of your being focused on this single moment, this one final push.

“You’re doing it,” Aegon whispered, his voice filled with awe and pride. “You’re doing it, my love.”

There was a searing, blinding moment of pain. And then—relief. The weight in your belly lifted, replaced by the sharp, piercing wail of a newborn’s first breath.

“It’s a boy,” the maester announced, his voice filled with quiet joy. “A strong, healthy boy.”

Your chest heaved with the effort, your whole body slack with exhaustion. But the sound of that tiny cry pulled you from the haze of pain. Tears welled in your eyes as you turned toward the maester, who carefully placed the squirming, wriggling babe into your arms.

He was small, red-faced, and loud—so loud. His silver hair, damp with birth, clung to his tiny head, and his little fists flailed in the air. You stared down at him, breathless and overwhelmed.

“He’s perfect,” Aegon breathed, leaning down to rest his head against yours, gazing at your son with wide, wonder-filled eyes. “You did it, my love. You did it.”

A sob broke free from your chest, this time from joy instead of pain. Your fingers brushed against the soft skin of your son’s cheek, marveling at how small and delicate he was. “We did it,” you whispered, turning your gaze to Aegon, eyes filled with love and gratitude. “We did it together.”

He kissed your temple, his lips warm and lingering against your skin. “He’s ours,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “No one will ever take him from us.”

As you gazed at your son, your heart swelled with a fierce, protective love that drowned out every fear, every doubt. He was yours. Yours and Aegon’s. And no one—not Aemond, not anyone—would change that.

The air in the room grew heavier as Aemond’s boots echoed softly against the stone floor. You could feel each step, the slow, deliberate pace of a man who believed he had every right to be here. Your eyes flickered from your mother’s warm gaze to Aemond’s cold, unyielding stare.

Aegon was seated beside you, his fingers gently stroking the back of your hand. His presence was steady, grounding, and you clung to it like a lifeline. He noticed Aemond’s approach immediately, his posture straightening, his eyes narrowing like a predator ready to pounce.

Your heart tightened when Aemond stopped at the side of your bed. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the bundle of warmth cradled against your chest—your newborn son. For a fleeting moment, something softer passed through his eye, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

He leaned down slowly, his silver hair falling around his face like a curtain, and before you could react, his lips pressed firmly against your forehead. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tender. It felt like a brand—an unspoken claim.

His hand brushed your cheek as he straightened, his cool fingers lingering for a heartbeat too long. His gaze locked onto yours, sharp as a dagger’s edge. “You have done well, wife,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, as though every word was a vow. His eye flickered to the baby nestled in your arms. “Our son is strong. I knew he would be.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You felt Aegon’s grip on your hand tighten, his fingers curling protectively around yours. His body went rigid beside you, every muscle taut with barely restrained fury.

“He’s not yours, brother,” Aegon said, his voice sharp but controlled, like a sword just before it strikes. “You know that as well as I do.”

Aemond’s smile was a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. He didn’t look at Aegon—he only looked at you. “Blood is blood,” he murmured. “No matter how it is claimed.”

You shook your head, feeling the weight of his words press on your chest like a stone. “He is not yours, Aemond,” you said firmly.

He didn’t move, his gaze fixed on you. His eye lowered slowly to your son, and his fingers twitched at his side, curling into a loose fist. “Does it even matter anymore?” he asked quietly, but his voice was like a blade slicing through the stillness of the room.

“It matters to me,” Aegon shot back, his voice laced with venom. He stepped forward, just a pace, and you could feel the shift in his body, the protective edge to his movements. “If you have something to say, brother, say it. But don’t you dare cast your doubts here.”

Aemond’s gaze snapped to Aegon, sharp as Valyrian steel, his lip curling ever so slightly. “I wonder if you’d still be so bold without your guards and wine to dull your senses.”

“Try me.” Aegon’s voice was low, dangerous in a way that surprised even you. "you can't just take what's mine just like that"

Aemond tilted his head slightly, his eye narrowing with quiet amusement. “Take?” he repeated, his tone as smooth as silk but sharp as steel. “I do not need to take what is already mine.”

Your mother’s eyes flicked between the three of you, her face tense with concern. “Aemond,” she said softly, placing a hand on his arm, trying to pull him back. “Leave them be. Please.”

For a moment, it seemed like he might listen. His gaze darted to his mother, his jaw tightening, his breath slow and controlled. But then his eyes settled on Aegon, and something darker flickered behind them.

“Careful, brother,” Aemond warned, his voice low with menace. “You’ve taken things from me before. Do not think I will let you take her too.”

Aegon rose from his seat slowly, his movements calm, calculated. But his eyes were anything but calm. They burned with a quiet, seething rage. He stepped between you and Aemond, his back to you, his shoulders squared like a shield.

“She is not yours, Aemond,” Aegon repeated, his voice low but firm. “Not now. Not ever.”

The two of them stood there, inches apart, their gazes locked in a silent war. It was a moment of unbearable tension, and you feared for what might happen next.

But it was your mother who broke it. “Enough,” Alicent said, stepping between her sons, her voice steady but commanding. “Both of you, enough.” She turned to Aemond, her eyes hard but pleading. “This is not the time for your pride, Aemond. She has just given birth. Leave her in peace.”

For a moment, Aemond didn’t move. He looked down at you, his eye lingering on the sight of you and the child in your arms. His face was stone, but you saw the flicker of something else—resentment, jealousy, longing.

You turned your head at the sound of your sister’s voice. Helaena entered the room, her soft footsteps barely audible on the stone floor. She carried her baby in her arms, rocking her gently, her usual distant but kind smile on her face.

Her eyes landed on Aegon first, and she tilted her head, her gaze as soft as ever. “Aegon,” she called his name with a small, almost pleading tone. “The twins are asking for you. They won’t sleep without their father tonight.”

You saw Aegon glance at you, hesitation flickering in his eyes. His jaw clenched, his grip on your hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll be back,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your fingers.

You nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile. You could see the guilt in his eyes. It wasn’t easy for him to leave you here, not after what had just happened with Aemond.

Aegon leaned down, pressing a kiss on your forehead, then glanced at the baby nestled in your arms. “Rest, love,” he murmured softly. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He stepped toward Helaena, and she glanced at you briefly. Her gaze lingered on the baby in your arms. Her smile grew wider, her eyes lighting up with that familiar dreamlike warmth. “He’s beautiful,” she said softly, her voice gentle as a lullaby. “He looks just like you.”

Her words should have brought you comfort, but they didn’t. Not when you knew who was still standing behind you.

You felt it before you heard it—the weight of his presence, the sharp, cold sensation of being watched too closely. Aemond’s breath was steady, his gaze sharp as ever, piercing into the back of your head like a blade.

He moved closer, slowly, as if to make his presence unavoidable. His voice came low and quiet, just for you to hear. The words were soft but sharp as a dagger’s edged.

“Does it ease your heart,” Aemond whispered, his voice like silk and steel, “to think he’ll love you more than he loved her?”

Your chest tightened painfully, the words like a sudden blow you weren’t prepared for. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t turn to look at him. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

But he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, his voice even quieter now, dangerously gentle. “Men like him never stay, sweet wife,” he continued, his words coated with venom. “Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Your fingers gripped the fabric of your blanket tighter, your heart pounding in your chest. You bit your lip to keep from saying something that would make it worse. You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already thought he had.

Behind him, Helaena’s eyes shifted to Aemond. Her smile faded, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. She blinked slowly, as if seeing something others could not. Her eyes met yours briefly, something unspoken passing between you. She knew. Somehow, she always knew.

“Come, Aegon,” Helaena said softly, turning away, her voice gentle but firm. “The twins are waiting.”

Aegon glanced at you one last time. You could see it in his eyes—the promise that he would return. That he wouldn’t leave you alone.

But he left. He had to.

The door shut softly behind them, and you were left alone with him.

Aemond didn’t move for a long time. You could feel him standing there, feel his eyes on you like a brand on your skin. Slowly, he moved around to stand in front of you, his gaze locking onto yours with that same cold intensity.

“You will never be free of me,” he said softly, his head tilting slightly, his eye narrowing. “No matter how far he runs or how sweet his words are, you will always belong to me.”

He crouched down, his gaze level with yours now. His face was unreadable, his voice soft but absolute. “Do not forget, sweet wife,” he said, his eye flicking to the baby in your arms. “I never forget what is mine.”

Your heart felt like it might shatter in your chest, but you didn’t look away. Not this time. You met his gaze head-on, your eyes fierce despite the fear clawing at the edges of your mind.

“I am not yours, Aemond,” you said, your voice steady but firm. “I never was.”

His jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a thin, dangerous line. For a moment, you thought he might strike you. But instead, he reached forward, his fingers brushing lightly over the baby’s head, his touch far too gentle for a man with so much darkness in his heart.

“We’ll see,” he whispered, standing slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “We’ll see.”

He turned and walked toward the door, his steps slow, controlled, each footstep echoing louder than the last. He didn’t look back as he left, but his presence lingered, like a storm waiting to break.

The door closed behind him with a soft click, and you exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You looked down at the baby in your arms, your fingers stroking his silver hair. His little face was peaceful, unbothered by the storm that surrounded him. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his tiny forehead, your heart aching with love and fear all at once.

“You are mine,” you whispered to him softly, your voice trembling with quiet determination. “No one will ever take you from me.”

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