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maximoff-pan · 18 days ago

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weapons don't dream | john walker

summary: You and John Walker have a past — you're a mind-reading ex-Hydra assassin and he's a disgraced soldier — similar in one too many ways. When forced to work together, old ghosts resurface, sparks ignite, and the line between enemy and something more begins to blur.

pairing: john walker x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

warning(s): enemies to whatever the hell this is, angst, mentions of violence, slightly dark, comfort fic — possibly a very screwed up timeline that makes absolutely no sense (sue me, marvel is too complicated for me)

a/n: hello there! Long time no see haha...This is my first attempt at diving into the thunderbolts universe (which I have totally fallen in love with)... I hope you all enjoy this quick little fic! Feedback is always appreciated <3

New Avengers Tower, 2027.

The Thunderbolts compound smells like gunpowder, sweat and recycled air. A place you once called home reduced to a mere mimicry of its former glory – now devoid of all the people that once made it so. Its body…its bones still look the same…but its organs are missing.

Bile rises up your throat. You can’t help but hate it already.

The walls are sterile, everything’s matte black and seemingly made of soulless steel. There's a chill in the air that doesn’t come from the AC but from the place itself—like the ghosts of bad decisions still linger. There’s no traces of Tony’s greatness or the visions he had for this tower. Nothing but the stench of business business business – lifeless and cold. It’s like everything you once knew is gone. All that’s left behind are the shadows of your past, one only you can remember.

You wonder how Bucky can stomach it. How he can work with this team knowing what it once was – knowing that even the greatest of heroes couldn’t make it out alive – let alone a group of morally grey individuals whose abilities to work as a team, you seriously question.

Undoubtedly, they’re a ticking time bomb. One that Sam has warned you against joining, and yet, you can’t let your curiosities die. Always yearning for a little danger.

You’ve only just arrived when the briefing room door swings open. And of course he’s the first one you see.

John Walker—U.S. Agent. Patriot. Killer. Whatever they’re calling him these days…whatever branding Valentina is using to polish the blood off.

He stops cold when your eyes meet. Not in shock, not even in regret. There’s something more dangerous floating across his cerulean orbs. Like familiarity wrapped in friction. Just that tight expression of someone biting down on something too bitter to say aloud.

“Well, shit.” He mutters. “They let you in?”

You don’t answer. You don't even bother dignifying it with a smile. You already know what he’s thinking.

His thoughts come in low and sharp.

‘Still cold. Still reading minds. Still dangerous.’

You let him feel your presence scrape along his mind’s edges. Not enough to intrude, just enough to remind him: you're still here. And you're still listening.

He flinches when he realizes you heard him. Good. Let him flinch.

“Nice to see you too, Walker.” You say completely unenthused, dropping your go-bag beside a chair. “Didn’t think you’d be the Thunderbolts’ official welcoming committee.”

“I’m not.” He grunts. “But I guess someone’s gotta make sure you don’t stab anyone before you meet the rest of the team.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Tempting.”

Silence oozes with tension as you take a seat at the table in front of you, gaze trained solely on him. John’s doing a good job keeping his thoughts shielded from you – something he’d always struggled to maintain.

His stare breaks from yours, and a sigh passes from his lips. Apprehensive. Curious.

“So what, does Barnes just dig you up every time the assignment smells like Hydra?” He asks, dropping into a chair across from you.

You shrug off your jacket, revealing the shoulder holster beneath. “Better than digging up another American PR disaster.”

He huffs a bitter laugh. You don’t look at him again, but you can feel the weight of him—his thoughts, his regrets, the bruised, barely patched ego that still aches from everything he lost in that goddamn suit. Because of the shield.

You were there when he wore it. When he fell apart in it.

Madripoor. 2023. The rooftop.

He was bleeding from the mouth, hands shaking, and you watched him pace like a caged animal, the blood of that man still drying on his knuckles.

John was spiralling. You knew the signs—you'd lived them. Years ago, in another life, in what felt like another body.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” He snapped.

You didn’t flinch, staring at him calmly, even as his presence loomed. “Don’t I?”

You let your walls drop just enough for him to feel it—your past, your training, the blood on your hands. The screams. The pain you didn’t ask for. For just a second, you let your mind touch his—like the graze of a knife across skin. Not deep enough to bleed. Just enough to show him the flash of what you once were.

The reprogramming. The red room. The memories that weren’t yours but lived inside you anyway. The manipulation. The misuse of your powers—used to hurt the people you cared for most.

He went still.

He stared at you for a long time after that. Said nothing. Didn’t need to.

‘It’s going to be okay.’ You spoke into his mind, repeating it like a prayer he needed to hear.

For one second, he saw you. And you saw him. This was the first time he looked at you like a person. And the last time you’d see him for nearly four years.

Then everything went to hell, and the government gave him a new shield and a black suit and told him to behave. John Walker—a trained soldier—didn’t want to follow those orders. But what choice did he have?

And you? You went underground. For four years.

Until Bucky called. The New Avengers – a chance at a new home. A chance at redemption.

Dahlonega, Georgia. 2027.

Valentina helps make the mission assignments, much to your (and Bucky’s) dismay. She seems to have an obsession pairing you with Walker. Maybe it’s because she can sense the history between you—the glaring dislike you have for one another is a crumbling facade.

You don’t hate him because of who he is. You hate him because he’s too much like you. Your own self-hatred has left John Walker at a disadvantage.

They've sent you both to extract a rogue HYDRA biochemist hiding in Georgia. Rural, backwoods, half-flooded farmland. A decaying plantation house tucked behind a screen of swamp trees and slow-draining rivers.

You hate the symmetry. You hate the assignment.

You hate that it’s just the two of you. That leaves you vulnerable.

“I’ll take point,” John says as the quinjet descends.

“No.” You snap, already checking your gear. “You’re too loud. I'll go first.”

He rolls his eyes. “Jesus. Are you still pulling the lone wolf crap?”

You glance at him. “I don’t like being shot because you can’t shut up.”

The pilot makes a show of not hearing.

You drop from the jet into wet grass, your boots sinking into the mud like the land itself is trying to swallow you. The air smells like mildew and rot. You ghost through the tree line, eyes sharp, mind open just wide enough to catch stray thoughts drifting in the mist.

The compound is buried behind a cornfield, stalks yellowed and rotting from stagnant water. Vines curl over rusted fencing. Drones buzz faintly overhead, but you dispatch one with a silenced shot before it can alert the perimeter.

You signal Walker to move. Valentina had put you in charge – a fact John refuses to admit to himself. He hates that it makes sense.

He approaches from the southern fence line—less subtle than you, but fast. Efficient. You both converge at the target's front steps.

“Basement lab.” You murmur. “Underground. Reinforced. One heat signature. Two upstairs.”

“Copy that.” He says gruffly. He doesn’t question how you know. He’s learned not to. Even in the short time you’ve been back in his life, he feels like he’s known you forever.

He supposes he has. Outside of Bucky, he’s known you longer than anyone on the team.

You breach from the roof—silent, practiced, a shard of darkness slipping through rotted rafters. You land light on your feet and sweep the hall.

Glass from the skylight cuts your forearm, but adrenaline surges. Below, Walker busts in through the ground-level entrance, clearing the stairwell like a battering ram. That had been exactly the plan.

You move in tandem. Like a dance choreographed by grudging familiarity. You clear the top floor while he moves to extract the target.

You round a corner—And then: static. Your radio hisses. Your head pulses.

Something’s off.

An unnatural hum surges in your skull, vibrating at the edge of your telepathy like barbed wire.

“Walker.” You hiss into the comm, but there’s no answer.

You take the stairs two at a time. The basement door is ajar. You step into a white, sterile hallway—

—then everything explodes.

You don’t hear it. You feel it. The floor bucks, the air implodes. Fire licks up the stairwell. Heat and pressure slam into your body like a truck.

You hit the ground with a sickening thud, shoulder screaming, ribs cracking against concrete. There’s glass in your thigh and the taste of blood in your mouth.

Your vision sways. Your ears ring. And then, barely, just as the world goes dark—

“Hey—HEY! Stay with me—don’t you dare—”

John screams your name. Not your code name. Not a title.

Your name.

His voice.

John.

Back at the compound, you sit on a gurney in the infirmary, arm stitched, pride shattered. Head absolutely pouding. You’ve just woken up, unaware of how long you’ve been out. It has to have been hours.

John leans against the wall, arms crossed, bruised and breathing heavy. He looks like he hasn’t moved since dragging you from the basement in Georgia.

You haven’t said a word since awakening.

“You could say thank you, ya know?”” He murmurs as a joke.

You surprise him when you respond with a quiet and genuine thank you John. He wasn’t expecting you to listen—wasn’t expecting you to be so nice after almost dying.

You sit up, wincing at the movement. “How bad is it?” You don’t know if you’re asking about his injuries or yours.

“I’m fine, just a couple scrapes and superficial bruises.” His arms are crossed as he takes a step toward you, gesturing to your physique. “The Doctor says you’ve got a dislocated shoulder and a minor concussion. I helped take care of it—popped that baby right back in place.”

You blink at him. “You took care of me?”

He shrugs. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Silence. Then: “Why?” You ask. Quiet. “Why did you pull me out?”

His jaw clenches. “Because I’ve seen enough people die on me. Especially ones who know what it’s like to be used up and tossed away.”

That silences you. Because under the anger and ego, you remember what lives in him.

Shame. Guilt. Loss. The same things you carry in your chest like weapons.

You look away.

His voice is softer now. “I didn’t forget what happened in Madripoor. You didn’t look at me like everyone else did.”

“I saw what you were capable of.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t run.”

“No,” you say, voice breaking just slightly, “because I’m capable of it too.”

Silence.

And just like that, his mind opens up for half a second, unguarded. You feel the way he’s always looked at you—with resentment, sure, but also curiosity. Attraction. Fear.

He doesn’t hate you. He hates how much you remind him of himself.

“I should go.” He whispers.

But he doesn't move.

Neither do you.

You spar in the gym three days later. It's supposed to be rehab. It's not.

Punch. Block. Kick. Grab. Repeat.

You sweep his leg. He slams you into the mat.

You flip him over. He rolls, pins you.

Your chest rises and falls beneath him, fast and hot and ragged. You’re nose to nose, panting.

He doesn’t move.

You blink. His hands are on either side of your face like he forgot how to touch softly. John’s mind flares—desire, restraint, something raw and frantic trying not to surface. But you can feel it. You can hear it in his thoughts.

You try to resist it. Try to let him keep that part of himself a secret. But it’s like your own desire is mixing with his, not allowing you the chance to preserve his privacy.

“I should hit you.” You whisper.

His voice is low. “I’d let you.”

Silence. One beat, then two, then three.

Your hands grip his shirt. His thumb brushes your jaw.

“I don’t know what this is.” You murmur. “And I know you’re trying, but I’m not someone you can fix John.”

His name feels foreign on your tongue.

“I don’t want to fix you.” He responds. “I just want to stop pretending like you’re not under my skin.”

Then, he leans in. Stops. Breath brushes your lips. You could kiss him. You could kill him.

Instead, you shove him off and walk out. It’s too much, too real, too raw. He doesn’t follow. But he doesn’t leave either.

Seven days of avoidance and aching tension. Of him watching you from across the compound, always with that haunted, heated look.

Until one night, you find him on the roof, staring at the midnight inky black void like it might offer him redemption. It feels eerily similar to that night in Madripoor. Different skyline, same ghosts.

You step beside him.

He doesn’t look at you. Just says, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

You hesitate. Then: “I used to dream in Russian. Still do, sometimes.” You’ve never told anyone that. It’s such a trivial piece of information to withhold but telling him feels good.

He exhales. “I still hear his screams. The guy I…” He can’t bring himself to say it.

You nod. Understanding flashes in your eyes. “We don’t get to undo what we were made into Walker. Only decide what we do with what’s left.”

His voice cracks. “I don’t think I know how.”

You look at him, really look. See the broken soldier, the boy who wanted to be Captain America, the man who lost everything and kept going anyway.

“You start by letting someone in.” You whisper.

He turns to you. “You offering?”

Your heart stutters.

Then you say it��soft, brave, real: “Yeah. I think I am.”

You find yourself leaning, and so does he, until you meet each other, your breath whispering across his face. There’s a faint hint of a smile on his features – he wants this more than anything. And without much thought, he kisses you.

And his mind goes silent. You can’t hear anything but the sound of breaths colliding.

It’s not gentle and it’s certainty not sweet.

It’s desperate. Hungry. Two broken people clawing toward something they don’t fully understand.

John’s hands cradle your face like you’re fragile. Yours grip his shirt like you’ll fall apart otherwise. They move up his back achingly; blonde tufts of hair find your fingertips like you’re spinning gold strings.

When you break apart, you rest your forehead against his.

You whisper, “We may never feel like true heroes John, but maybe it means we’re not just weapons anymore.”

“Hmm,” he hums with a smile, “That’s something.”

And for now, something is enough. For the first time in a long time, you’ll go to sleep without ghosts clawing at your door.

So will John.

tags: @bmyva1entine @kjmonster111

thank you to anyone who took the time to read this fic. I'd love to write more for walker and the other thunderbolts in the future.

#john walker x reader #john walker x you #john walker x y/n #thunderbolts x you #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts x y/n #john walker imagine #thunderbolts imagine #the new avengers x reader

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shizuturnspages · 7 months ago

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hi!! if ur requests are open can be i have a yandere Xiao and kinich or ororon (I'm so indecisive so uhh choose one u think fit most) with a darling who's not from Teyvat? just say they're from another world and doesn't know how Teyvat works! optional but if u want can u make the darling use another name so they just hide their real names like the traveler? tysm!! love ur writings!

Oh, requests for an outsider darling? Hell yes—throwing a clueless darling into Teyvat is like tossing a spark into dry brush. This is such a fascinating idea. Dw about being indecisive. I'll write for all three.

Xiao: The Haunted Protector

Xiao’s attachment starts as reluctant guardianship. You’re so painfully out of place in Teyvat—every move you make screams, “I don’t belong here,” and it tugs at something deep in him. He’s already burdened by his karmic debt, but the thought of leaving you defenseless in a world you barely understand? Unthinkable.

❥ Overwhelming Vigilance: Xiao’s always nearby, even when you don’t know it. You might think you’re safe exploring Liyue, but every Hilichurl you scare off or trap you narrowly avoid? Yeah, that’s Xiao, silently taking out threats before they reach you. And if you wander somewhere truly dangerous? He’ll materialize in front of you, golden eyes blazing with frustration. “What were you thinking? You don’t belong here—it’s not safe.”

❥ Fixation on Your Name: You’ve introduced yourself with a fake name, and Xiao knows it. He doesn’t ask outright, but he obsesses over the mystery of your true identity. Why are you hiding it? Is it shame? Fear? Whenever he’s alone, he finds himself whispering the name you’ve given him, hoping it’ll somehow unravel your secrets.

❥ Territorial Devotion: Xiao can’t stand seeing you bond with others. It’s not jealousy—it’s fear. What if they manipulate your naivety? What if they steal you away from him? He becomes cold and distant whenever you get close to someone, warning you cryptically about trusting others. “People here will lie to you,” he’ll say, his voice sharp but tinged with worry.

How He Snaps: If you ever try to leave Teyvat, Xiao won’t let you go. He’ll argue, beg, and even threaten to bind you to this world with Adeptus magic. “You don’t understand the dangers out there. You’re safer here—with me.” And when he says “with me,” it’s clear he means forever.

Kinich: The Calculating Schemer

Kinich is not the kind of yandere to burst into a room and immediately start causing a scene. He’s a master manipulator who knows how to play the long game. With Ajaw by his side, he’s even more dangerous. His cool, collected demeanor hides a mind that’s always working, always planning.

❥ Patient Manipulation: Kinich’s patience is his greatest weapon. He’ll let you get used to his presence in your life, slowly drawing you in with his charisma and calculated charm. He’s aware that your trust is the key to getting closer to you, so he’ll wait for that moment when you can’t imagine your life without him. “You’re fascinating. I want to know everything about you… all in good time.”

❥ Ajaw’s Influence: Ajaw is not a typical partner for Kinich. Where Kinich is cool-headed and manipulative, Ajaw is impulsive, fiery, and more than willing to be the muscle to back up his companion’s plans. Kinich has carefully cultivated Ajaw’s loyalty, using the power and strength of the Ajaw to keep others in line. Ajaw, for his part, is drawn to Kinich’s vision and power, willingly carrying out orders that Kinich knows will push you closer into his grasp.

❥ The Steady Hand of Control: In terms of the relationship with you, Kinich knows that the best way to control you is to make you believe you have free will. He’ll approach you with an offer, something that seems like it’s your choice to accept. “I’ve been thinking. Perhaps you should stay close to me for a while… we could work together. I can offer you things no one else can.” It’s never truly a question—he’s just making sure you think it is.

How He Snaps: If he feels like he’s losing you—whether to another person or your desire to leave Teyvat—Kinich’s sunny charm darkens. He’ll corner you, his usual smile replaced by a steely intensity. “You think you can just walk away? From me? You’re mine, [Fake Name]. You always have been.”

Ororon: The Brooding Warrior

Ororon’s attachment to you is rooted in a mix of curiosity and protectiveness. You’re so alien to him, so out of place, and yet you’ve managed to survive in Teyvat. It frustrates and fascinates him in equal measure.

❥ Overbearing Protection: Ororon doesn’t trust anyone—not you, not the people around you, and especially not himself. His way of protecting you is blunt and harsh, often scolding you for your ignorance. “How are you still alive?” he’ll growl after pulling you out of yet another dangerous situation. But his rough words betray his concern.

❥ Guard Dog Behavior: Ororon doesn’t care if you’re stronger than him. He still insists on watching your back, even if it means standing in your shadow while you fend off enemies. And if someone so much as looks at you wrong? He’s ready to fight, glaring daggers at anyone who dares approach.

❥ Fixation on Your Mystery: Your otherworldly origins and fake name are a constant source of frustration for him. He doesn’t pry—he’s not the type—but his eyes narrow whenever you dodge his questions. “You’re hiding something,” he’ll say bluntly, his voice low and gruff. “I don’t care what it is, but don’t think you can fool me.”

How He Snaps: Ororon’s breaking point comes when you try to push him away. His voice rises, uncharacteristically emotional. “You think you can survive without me? You barely understand this world. Don’t be stupid—I’m the only one who can keep you safe.” And in his mind, that’s the truth. You need him, whether you realize it or not.

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dc-comics-enjoyer · 1 year ago

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Good Dad™ Bruce headcanons (part 1) :

(because we deserve it and need to heal)

Cass and Bruce connect a lot through shared meditation sessions. Just silently and calmly existing with each other.

Bruce often unwinds by playing the piano alone in the Wayne Manor music room. One evening, Steph heard him and joined in with a guitar she found there. Bruce didn't mind. Since then, whenever he starts playing, Steph often grabs an instrument, turning his solo sessions into lively jam sessions.

Bruce has a habit of calling Dick under the guise of needing his advice on a case. Once they’ve discussed the "urgent" matter, Bruce smoothly transitions to the real conversation to get updates on what's been going on in Dick's life :

"What happened with that noisy neighbor of yours ?"/"Did you find those jeans you were looking for ?"/"How was your date ?"/"How's the shoulder ?"/"Did you get the plumbing issue fixed ?"

Every time Bruce can spend time with Damian, he would introduce him to different strategy board games from around the world. They'd play chess, of course, but they would also play Go, Checkers, Mancala, Backgammon, Mahjong, Barjees, etc.

When they're confronting a bigger threat than usual, Bruce would make sure to leave tiny personalized notes in their utility belts. For Dick, he'd just shove it in his hand while walking past him :

To Dick : "Trust your instincts. You've got this. – Bruce"

To Jason : "Remember your training. I'm proud of you. – Bruce"

To Tim : "Your mind is your greatest weapon. Stay sharp. – Bruce"

To Damian : [in arabic] "You are stronger than you know. Stay focused. – Your father"

To Steph : "Believe in yourself as I believe in you. – Bruce"

To Cass : "Your skills are unmatched. Stay confident. – Bruce"

To Duke : "Your determination inspires us all. Keep it up. – Bruce"

When he was 13, Jason mentioned once how much he liked banana-flavored protein bars. Since then, Bruce always made sure to have some in the batcave. He never stopped, even when Jason was no longer around. It was a small but meaningful way for Bruce to keep a piece of Jason's memory alive. When Jason eventually returned, he was stunned to find the familiar protein bars still stocked, knowing no one else liked them that much.

Duke is a cinephile, so in his free time he loves watching movies. Bruce sneaked next to him in the manor's home cinema once. Since then, they created this unspoken tradition of watching classic movies together whenever their free time coincides.

To show his support after Tim’s coming out, Bruce discreetly hung small bisexual pride flags in multiple places : one in the Batcave, right next to the monitors where Tim often worked, one in the Batmobile on the rear mirror, one placed next to the family picture in Bruce’s room, and one on the training room's wall. It showed Bruce's acceptance and support in a way that blended seamlessly into their everyday life. It made Tim feel seen and valued.

-------------

(here's part 2)

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 6 months ago

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CHAINS OF BONES: Dark!GOD aemond x reader fic (SNIPPET!!!!! TO CELEBRATE MY TWO YEAR ANNIVERSAY)

Tags: DARK AEMOND, GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED AU

🔷Summary: You are a servant working for the goddess Rhaenyra and the God Daemon. You are tasked with protecting the flowers and one day, you find yourself captured by rhaenyra's greatest enemy: Aemond.

🔷Author's note: Dark af.

WARNINGS: Misogny, (no kidding) emotional manpulation, dubcon, body betrayl, vaginal sex (f recv) oral sex (f recev) rough sex, mentions of loss of virginty, emotional gaslighting and gore, blood, and a lot of...BONES. (Blood licking for this chapter) Blood drinking too...(where is this going???)

This is a dead dove

Do not eat it.

(a+ warning)

wordcount:6816 SWEET GODS keep in mind this is just the snippet I knew it was bad but that it was this bad omg loooord how big is this chapter gonna be omg omg.

AHUM.

READER/PETAL/UNKNOWN FIRST NAME.

You slept more than you allowed yourself to. You blame your lack of training at first, but with a bed that soft, that big, and that warm anyone could fall asleep. You stare at the ceiling, where dragons look back to you. The diamond chandeliers shimmer peacefully and you hate all of it. He put so much effort into this room for you. You can save a hungry family with one of those chandeliers. You don’t deserve any of it. It reminds you of the nights you spent on the street, in the cold, begging for food to selfish strangers who all feared they would end up like you; an unwanted orphan.

You are overwhelmed. Absolutely overwhelmed. Your senses are tested, your skin is burning and aching and you are close to crying. You slap yourself. You need to pull it together. Now. You rise from the bed, instantly regretting it the moment you are actually on your feet. Your feet hurt. You hiss, ignoring your own pain as you walk to the vanity. There must be something here. Some cream, some lotion…Anything. To get rid of your…

“Bloody horns.” You don’t care that he’s King of the Underworld, if Aemond had something to do with those horns growing out of your necklace, and into your own damn skin, he will be suffering.You pass by the large balcony and are taken back by the fact that you are watching a sunrise. A sunrise in the Underworld. It takes your breath away. The light, the way the entire room fills with sunshine is almost magical.

‘’Ahum, do you wish me to close the curtains, my Queen?’’ You should be used to people sneaking up to you by now, but no, you aren’t. You turn around, facing a girl around your own age, wearing a black servant gown. You don’t trust her. The memory of the witch who tried to kill you is all too fresh in your mind.

You reach for anything that can serve you as a deadly weapon. Can you even kill undead people? You will find out, you suppose… “I am so sorry for startling you, my Queen.” Lies, likely. Lies and deceit. You grab the perfume bottle, ready to smash it on her head.

She holds up her arms. “I am Ann. Your handmaiden.” She tells you, when slowly lowering your perfume bottle. “His grace assigned me about two weeks ago. He wants to make sure you are content, your Grace.” Content? There are horns growing out of your body! You do hear something interesting. The kidnapping was planned at least two weeks ago. So he planned this quite for a bit.

Ann grabs the small, golden hairbrush with sapphires. You roll your eyes at the expensive, excessive and unneeded fancy brush. “Shall I brush your hair? Perhaps you'd like to have a nice bath? I can prepare it for you.” She says. You don’t trust her just yet, but do agree on following her to the bathroom. You rip one of the lights on the wall, taking a sharp diamond with you in case you need it.

You follow her into the lavious bathroom, another insane monstrosity. There are mirrors covering the walls, golden tiles under your feet and the tiles have letters written in them. You can clearly spot an A. A golden, A curved into the stones. You deliberately shove your feet over the A, trying to erase it.

‘’Your highness?’’ Ann’s voice makes you realize you must look silly. You watch Ann, prepare your bath by filling a golden bathtub big enough to fit two people with water. The water comes from a demonic statue in the corner, and seems to be hot right away. Dark magic, no doubt. “Roses or lavender, my Queen?” She asks as she takes two bottles of leaves from a cabinet you didn’t even notice. She knows where everything is.

You bathed before, of course. Just not with roses or lavender. Just with water and a bar of soap that grew smaller every time. “Roses are fine.” You say, not paying too much mind to it. Lavender has such a strong scent, roses are more subtle.

“May I help you?” She asks, gesturing to the Nightgown that Aemond put you in. You nod, putting the diamond aside. She looks at it, a little distraught. You put your arms up, allowing her to undress you and to do her job.

She helps you into the warm but nice water. She begins to brush your hair. “Do you like it here, my Queen?’’ She asks, gently brushing your hairs as you eye a golden bath duck with sapphires for its eyes. You don’t. You were captured here and you don’t like how pretentious Aemond is, nor how he sometimes loses control of his own powers. You will be looking to escape. But you can’t tell Ann that. She will tell Aemond, likely.

So you lie, crawling into the skin of someone else, pretending to care about golden bathtubs and diamonds. ‘’It’s such a dreaming life. I never suspected it would be happening.’’ Sometimes the best lie is just the truth. You did not expect it to be happening, and you did not expect to ever meet Aemond at all. Life would have been perfect, had he stayed far, far away in fact.

Ann chuckles, softly. ‘’I can imagine, my Queen. My mother always told me that destiny is something that we least expect. Like, how a man had the destiny to become rich. He kept waiting for riches but he took his wife, his children and his health for granted. He already was rich, in a way.’’

Her words nestle inside your brain, working their magic. You sit up, considering her words. Dread fills your chest as you glance at your own reflection, staring at your new horns. What if she’s right? What if this is your destiny? What if somehow, Aemond is right about all this? ‘’Interesting.’’ You comment, enjoying the warm water and the scent of roses.

Ann stops brushing your hair, looking flushed and embarrassed. ‘’I shouldn’t bore you with senseless stories. I am sorry, my Queen.’’ She says.

You chuckle, but roll your eyes. The way she addresses you is obviously Aemond’s doing. You want Ann to treat you as a normal being. ‘’You should stop with the ‘’My Queen’’ thing. It makes me uncomfortable.’’ You tell her, and you steal the brush from her and give your scalp a good scratching with it. You groan, as your horns interfere with most of that idea.

Ann is a beautiful young lady and could easily impress many people, but her eyes have become as big as a bunny who is facing the huntsman. You scared her. ‘’His grace said I wasn’t supposed to address you in any other way.’’ Ann confesses, her voice small. ‘’I don’t know what to do now. The King wants you to feel at home here, and I should obey your every command. But his command was to address you properly. I feel conflicted, truth be told, your Highness.’’ You understand she is terrified of Aemond. Who wouldn’t be, in truth? You hear a soft sniffle. You sit up, reaching for Ann’s hands. You feel horrible for making her cry.

You won’t tell Aemond anything. He doesn’t deserve to know after all he did to you. And besides, even in the best marriages there are secrets. You scoff a bit at your own poor joke. Marriage. To him.‘’I won’t tell the King. You can address me how you like. I am sorry for upsetting you.’’ You say. Ann looks up, her eyes puffy.

You hope you made it a bit better.

But you only made it so far worse.

Ann snaps, throwing the brush on the tiles in frustration, tears bursting from her eyes as she falls to the ground, hugging her knees. Shocked, you try to get to her, awkwardly hanging half out of the bathtub. ‘’You shouldn’t feel bad! Not over me or my feelings!’’ The way she talks scares you. It is terrifying. You stare at this poor, tortured and tormented soul. Ann sighs, continuing. ‘’You shouldn’t be bothered about me at all. I am just a mere servant, you, you are the Queen. You should worry about other things-’’ You stop her rambling, instantly grabbing her hands, this time you manage to hold them, without slipping on the painful marble floors.

‘’Who should a Queen care for, if not her people?’’ You ask, genuinely. Not that you see yourself as a Queen. Ann smiles through her tears. You smile back, carefully. Ann returns to brushing your hair, now much more comfortable and less stiff around your presence.

She clears her throat, embarrassed. She shouldn't be. She is under a lot of pressure. Perhaps you can find some way to lighten her burdens. Make her happier before leaving the castle. Or she can come with you. ‘’Me and the servants heard rumours. Is it true the King gave you thousand roses and had a gilded carriage with seven unicorns all in a different colour to bring you here?’’

You wonder if the roses aren't secretly enchanted to cause hallucinations. Unicorns? Roses? Gifts? A carriage? Also, you didn't know Unicorns exist?

You recall a hole in the ground, and darkness. But you decide to humor her and feed the propaganda Aemond spoonfed her. If she corrects him one day, it could cost her her head. ‘’No, there were eight unicorns and two dancing polar bears.’’ You say, making the lie even less believable. Ann nods, however, buying it, to her it's the ultimate love gesture.

She sighs, dreamily. ‘’I wish someone would do all this for me. The King must love you so deeply. I shouldn’t mention, but I noticed, he seems…different since your arrival.’’ You frown. Different how?

‘’Did he get rid of that stick up his ass?’’ You ask. Ann gasps, laughing but hides her laugh behind her hands. She shakes her head, smiling as she tries her best to summarize it.

‘’Changes are happening. Let’s leave it at that.’’ What kind of changes, you wonder.

A cloud of roses appears, signaling Aemond’s dramatic arrival. You roll your eyes, sighing deeply as Aemond takes his sweet time appearing in front of you, roses surrounding him as he spawns. You look beside the bathtub for Ann, and are shocked to find her kneeling on the floor, for Aemond. You feel horrified.

There is kneeling and there is whatever Ann is doing. You assumed a curtsy would be enough to please his ego. But no. She is covering the floor, making herself as lowly as possible. It's dehumanising in any way and you want her to stand up right away.

Aemond smiles at you, admiring your naked body. “Ah. There is my beautiful wife.” He claps his hands and the candles surrounding the bathtub light up, spreading a gentle rose scent. You cover your chest with your arms. He left you here. Where did he expect you to find, somewhere with another one of his skeletons that wants to kill you?

Ann returns to brushing your hair, but can barely reach it from this angle. She keeps her eyes on Aemond at all cost. She fears him, clearly. But luckily he pays her no mind. It's like she doesn't exist to him at all. A shadow haunting a castle. You realize, she doesn’t exist for him. He sees her as a servant. A tool to dispose of when she’s no longer useful. You shudder at that thought, horrified and sick to your stomach.

His thin and gentle smile dies. He stares at you full of disbelief as if you challenged him. “Is that needed? I've seen your beautiful body two times before.’’ He has. You won't do his bidding until he tells you the truth. You want to know why you have horns now and what you are doing here.

“It's a matter of consent.” You say.

You expect him to throw a tantrum or to kill Ann for revenge or just drown you in the golden tub. But he does something else. “Ah,” he says nodding as he turns around granting you your privacy at long last. “Tell me when I can gaze upon the most beautiful creature that ever graced my presence, yes?” You wonder if he's truly in love. If he is pretending he puts too much effort into his act. But the way that he's so silly and so awkward around you almost confirms it to you that he is not acting.

You roll your eyes now his back is turned. Ann gently smiles too, helping you in a soft robe.

“When I'm dressed.” You announce, making your way to the bedroom with Ann.

You can hear him scoffing from afar. “Hah.” He comments but he does not turn around at all nor tries to steal peeks from the mirror walls. He remains where he stands, arms crossed but faithful to your command.

Ann escorts you to a chair, makes sure you sit comfortably and goes off to fetch you a dress and underwear. You wait patiently and see her return with a dark red sleeveless poofy gown that could easily save your life should you decide to jump down the balcony. It would protect you from the fall.

It's a walking statement. A walking attention catcher. It's a beautiful dress but you don't feel beautiful. You fear it'll look ugly on you. So you hate it. It's safer to hate the unknown than to try it.

Ann smiles, twirling it, making it only worse as she presents it to you as a proud mother, offering her daughter her wedding dress. “I…don't we have something less extravagant?” You ask. Ann drops the ball gown, staring as if she too sees it for the first time now. She gives a soft, almost shadow of a nod, that vanishes when Aemond comes over. He gives her an obvious glare, and you can see her tremble.

It was his choice, clearly.

Not Ann's.

The poor girl shakes, before vanishing off to the closet, getting another dress. This one is green and she looks now directly to Aemond for his approval, rather than your own. ‘’This is the dress you approved for the dinner, my King. But maybe her g-grace could wear it now?’’ You laugh, uncomfortable.

You turn to Aemond, knowing he will do anything to make you feel at home. Ann said so.. “I'm used to wearing pants.” You admit. “Easier to move around in and fight in if need be. And I look much better in pants than in a poofy dress.” You nod to the dress, allowing him to use his demonic powers on it.

Aemond nods and smiles but doesn't do anything. “Mhm.” He says, instead of turning the dress into a hope of ashes like you had hoped. “You'll adjust. I'm certain of it.” He looks at your horns full of admiration and excitement.

His answer is infuriating on its own but that he looks at you so patronizing that makes your blood really boil. “I think you misunderstand me.” You say, trying to be civil and the bigger person. You don't want to wear this monstrosity. You don't want to wear dresses. You aren't even sure how to sit in this thing or how to walk in it. You'd only trip and make a fool of yourself.

The king of the underworld lets out the most boyish annoyed groan, as a little boy being told he can't have another stuffed animal. “Petal, don't be difficult. Let me rephrase…I think you clearly have issues.” Your brows raise so far you are convinced they are in your hair. You? You are the one with the issues?

“Me?” You must have heard wrong.

He nods, solely as if he regrets it deeply. “You have never been in a ballgown before. You feel guilty and shy. But there's truly no need for it, my love. You'll look so beautiful,” his lips curl into an unintended smile picturing it. “This dress was made for you. The seamstress worked days on it. I didn't even allow her to rest. Luckily there was someone present to wake her up with cold water whenever she passed out. ” He tells you with a sweet smile. He laughs, warmly, thinking hearing such an awful thing will make you overjoyed. ‘’You see, that’s how much I care for you, my love. Everything, from your toes to your beautiful horns, it all needs to be perfect. I won’t tolerate anything less.’’

He thinks you are just being reassured but unaware he gave you again crucial information. He had a dress made for you, by what sounds like someone human. Judging the skirt and the details on the dress, that too had taken quite a while. You never made anything before so you wouldn't know just how long, but that it took that poor woman long you can understand. Days, Aemond said. But you doubt that. Weeks, likely. Months, perhaps.

You try your best to hide your disgust. You must charm him somehow. “I just think pants are practical. If I need to run-”

There is an audible gasp from Ann followed by the uttering deafening silence. Aemond nods, almost to himself, faking a smile when he slowly gets in front of you again. He crosses his arms and you focus on the bone crown on his head to avoid staring at his eye. That one, beautiful eye that is judging you, berating you and even hating you for what you just dared to mutter. That you are in fact not here to stay.

The candles stop burning one by one. You hear rattling chandeliers and the sun disappears outside the castle. Outside clouds gather, and thunder rumbles. He does not raise his voice or shout at you. But truth be told, he doesn’t have to. He is terrifying all on his own, simply by existing. “Why would you need to run?” He must be lying about his band with you. His soulmate is someone else you are certain of. Whatever reason Aemond has to keep you here, it has nothing to do with love. You can't imagine yourself being that important.

Deceit comes naturally to you. But not now. Not in front of him. When you need it, it fails you. “I…an example.” He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly, clearly noticing you lied. He takes your hands into his own, muttering Valyrian words. You don't know what he's doing but you are afraid. You watch Ann, worried he'll hurt her.

When he talks he becomes the King again and you are nothing but a mortal girl at his mercy. He scolds you as if he is talking to a child. “We talked about this. You are not going anywhere. You are my Queen and my love. You are right where you belong. The only running your legs will be doing is when I allow it.” He chuckles, clearly nervous. He pretends to care what you think of him. He pretends like he doesn’t want to scare you away.

You cross your arms, annoyed by the turn of the conversation. “Can we talk about the horns sticking out of my neck and forehead now?’’

Aemond looks at your horns, as if seeing them just now. He smirks, and his smirk tells you all you need to know. It's the smirk of a satisfied child that got his way. Again. He did this to you. “Mhm. I thought there was something different about you.” He chuckles delighted at his own joke. You are tempted to hit him, but instead you just groan under your breath.

You can't break the necklace. So you doubt you can break the horns. Maybe you can tear them from your skin. But you won't risk it.

The way you looked must have been miserable because Aemond grabs your hands, feeling your burned and damaged skin, instantly kissing your fingers and surprising you with a soft, gentle kiss that heals your burned fingers. You stare at his lips, confused. “It's nothing serious. When a wife and a husband wed, she takes his cloak. You know this. See this, little bit of …decoration as my cloak. The world will tremble and gawk. You simply are wearing your husband's cloak instead of your maiden one.” You didn't consent to any marriage and you sure aren't wearing a cloak let alone horns.

“Can you undo it?” You ask, instantly.

He avoids eye contact for a moment, clearly hurt by your words. Then he pretends he's fine again. He chuckles once more, much shallower than the first time.

“Yes, but why would I? Like I said; it's incredibly romantic.” He kisses your neck, careful to mind the new horns. “You look so beautiful with it. You look ravishing, my love.”

You don't. You never looked ravishing. You never felt uglier than now. Being an orphan, people had enough to say to you. Now, with horns and a god king for a husband, what will they say now? And how will you wield words that will root deep inside of your soul, eating away your so rare confidence? You are strong, but not invincible. “What will people say when they see me with horns?” You whisper, horrified. You look into the mirror.

Aemond grabs you tighter forcing you to meet your image. Forcing you to accept this horrible truth. “They won't even glance at you. Every tongue that dares to insult you, I will cut from their mouths. No one insults my Queen. They won't laugh. They won't point. They will stand up for you and they will bow until their knees break.” You try to imagine it. Crowds of people falling to their knees for you. You, wearing crowns decorated with bones and everyone who ever challenged you, on their knees in the dirt, bowing down for you.

There's a soft kiss on your head that awakens you from the daydream. “It's alright to like it, my little Petal. Remember that.” he whispers, reminding you of how good he can make you feel. You recall how whole you felt when he was inside of you, and need to remind yourself too of the burns and scars he gave you. How he keeps burning you somehow. Maybe he likes hurting you. Some people get turned on by it. But you aren't sure yet if Aemond is one of those people.

You hear his words again. ‘’It’s alright to like it.’’ What if he did not refer to the times you two have been together, but something else? Something so much darker, so much worse? You see him smile, as a proud boyfriend who just taught you how to do something terrible. You realize what the horns mean. Aemond didn’t do anything. You did it. By corrupting your soul.

“You did well, last night.” He adds, unaware of your realisation..He takes a look at the places he kissed last night when you two made love. He gently touches your burned skin, by your lips and your neck. “Come love. It's time I healed you.” He announces, taking you by the hand.

But that comes too soon after your horrifying realization.

“Why am I truly here?’ you ask, breaking free. He freezes and turns around, caught in his lie. He quickly smiles.

He makes himself a bit taller, adjusting his posture. “I want to heal you.” He says with that little oh so scared chuckle. You rip yourself free, not listening anymore. He is not touching you until he tells you what he’s hiding or when you are finally home again.

“No. You wont get your way until you tell me all there is.” You say. The King laughs, as his pupil darkens. You try not to be afraid, but the truth is that is easier said than done. With one snap of his little finger he can break your neck, you are certain of that.

His soft but rough voice softly rings out. “I don't think you understand how things work.” He bends his fingers slightly, as if making claws. At his command, your necklace begins to close tighter around your throat, slightly choking you. “I will heal you.”

You gasp for air as Ann rushes out of her hiding spot, her eyes full of worry. She does not help you, however. You don’t blame her. “You can after you tell me the truth.” You manage to croak out to Aemond. ‘’You can heal me, just…tell me.’’

He only laughs harder, choking you to the point where your vision blurs.

“Don't be difficult now, Petal. I would have preferred making you breathless another way, but I will keep you close. I can’t afford losing you.’’

Ann steps in front of you, protecting you. “My king, her royal highness, the Queen hasn't eaten anything yet. Mayhaps we should let her eat a bit, and you can heal her after? Women are known to be frustrated easily if not well fed.” She tries to laugh it off but she is afraid. She knows who she is defying. For you of all people.

Ann actually stood up for you. It is a clear attempt to give you some time alone, away from Aemond and his desires. He stares at you, giving you finally more space to breathe and releases you.

You gasp for air, eagerly filling your lungs. But he does not stop. He simply switches targets. He picks up Ann now, holding her in the air and choking her, much harder than he ever choked you. “Do not make me turn you into a pile of ashes. I entrust you with my most valuable possession but I won't hesitate to kill you.” He warns her, his voice becoming darker and rougher.

“My king, forgive me! I meant no offense!” Ann begins to cry, struggling to say anything else.

He growls. ‘’Yet you do. You dared to question my authority and dared to order me around! I am not your dog, I am your King, your God! She is mine and mine to do with as I please-’’ That is enough for you. You run in his direction, surprising him. You jump on top of him, tackling him to the ground. His hands stop the spell, interrupted. You pin him to the floors and stare into his eye, heavily breathing because of the adrenaline.

‘’Do not hurt Ann.’’You tell him, warning him. ‘’You want me to give you a chance and all of this madness? Stop killing people and stop treating me like your whore. You have one chance. I don’t care that you are immortal, I will find a way to kill you, Aemond.’’

“One day around you and she thinks she can order me around like I'm a dog!” He rages, but calms when he notices your hands on his clothed chest. Your hands feel the familiar hole that sits right by where his heart would be.

Ann shakes her head, falling to her knees. “No, your grace, please, my good King! No I didn't. I only had your best interest in mind. The servants know of her Grace's…” You curse as it all makes sense. You get off from Aemond. He remains on the floor, perfectly fine and even puts his arms behind his head, enjoying the show that is about to unfold. He even dares to adjust himself, so he is more comfortable.

Ann never cared about you not having eaten.

His eye is following you around, clearly lusting and feeding on your darkness as you approach Ann. “Of what?” You ask, just to clarify.

She shakes as a leaf. But you need to know this truth. You had fears and you want to know if you were right. The darkest fear of all. That you could be with child. His child. “That you and the King consummated your marriage earlier.” You turn your head to Aemond. A consummation would make any marriage legal and binding. Did he truly lie to you? Are you two married, in some secret demon pact? Is that why he took you so quickly?

Aemond rises from the ground, not paying much attention to his surroundings and ends up on a low hanging shelf with bottles. “It is true me and the Queen were…overcome with emotions,’’ You scratch your head, staring at the ground. You scoff, tears stinging. He played you. He lied to you. He married you. If he truly felt anything for you, he wouldn’t have done that. He would have been honest. About at least something.

Aemond’s words were first addressed to Ann, but they changed target. His voice becomes softer as his hands glide into your own, and you notice he somehow clings to you. As if you can save him. ‘’- but I want to wed her in a proper ceremony with proper guests and attire. She should be crowned for all to see. She deserves a wonderful wedding and that's what she'll get. No, we didn't consummate our marriage. We aren’t married, just yet.’’ You feel relief. But that doesn’t answer your other question. “But we did have a special time getting to know one another.” Aemond adds, making the story more spectaculair than it needs to be. You roll your eyes.

Ann chuckles, still terrified but carefully tries to make conversation to avoid your anger or Aemond's. “The dancing polar bears must have been quite the view.” she says, remembering the lies you told her.

You see Aemond's good eye narrow in confusion. “The what?”

She stares at the two of you. “I don't judge, my Queen, my King. I simply wanted the Queen fed in case there's…Something inside her belly.” You glare at Aemond, asking him directly with your emotions and eyes if he knows that you are with child. He turns his head away.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, clearly avoiding you at all costs suddenly. “That's quite the disturbing thought process.” He says. ‘’I think you should take your leave. Me and the Queen need to talk.’’ Ann makes a curtsy and leaves quickly after Aemond orders her, likely very happy to be granted leave at all.

He smirks as she leaves. ‘’I had no idea there was such a feisty side to that girl. The way she stood up for you, I never imagined in a million years that humans were capable of that. She is a interesting pet, don’t you agree?’’

You aren’t sure what you feel stirring up. Is it disgust or jealousy? “She's a person not your pet.” you bite out offended regardless. To your surprise, to your horror even, you added something you had no control over. An arm that tries to hit the King of the Underworld. You gasp as Aemond captures your arm quickly, smirking broadly as he leans in, caressing your face with his long blood red and white nails.

You stare at your arms, shocked and confused. Why did you do that? ‘’There is no need to be jealous, my Queen. You think I’m interested in her, when I have you, right where I want you?’’ He presses his nose to your own, kissing your lips when softly nibbling on your under lip. You hear him exhale deeply, and you taste your own blood. He bit you. He kisses deeper and longer, tasting your blood. It should feel so bad, but it feels so good. You should hate every touch, every kiss but you only seem to want more and more of him. You need to stop him.

You break the kiss.

‘’You should stop pestering Ann.’’

He grins, but doesn’t nod or agree. “She made you uncomfortable.” He responds, grabbing you by your hips. He stares into your eyes again, slowly opening your bathrobe. ‘’It’s a crime that you tried to hide all of this from my eyes. You should be punished.’’ He whispers, staring at your naked body. You try to fight your desires for him.

She only tried to stop someone from getting choked. “She means well. She wants the best for me and for you.” Or for the innocent unborn child she thought you were carrying around.

He rolls his eye, annoyed at you bringing up Ann when he is clearly trying to seduce you.

“All based on one conversation. And you are not with child. Not mine, not anyone's. ’’ He sighs dramatically. ‘’May I now heal you?’’ He's impatient. You stare at your burned finger tops that you burned when touching him.

‘’Can you at least tell me how to avoid burning myself in the future?’’ You would like to know that. There must be some way to stop yourself from burning your skin.

‘’You can’t, Petal.’’ His answer shocks and surprises you. You thought he had something to protect you from it. ‘’I apologize.’’ He adds, in a tone unlike himself. He truly regrets that he can't tell you another answer. He regrets it. ‘’I can heal you.’’ He adds. “But I can't teach you how to become immune. Nor can I cast spells that protect you against my own magic. It would not work.”

You decide to humor him. Your burns hurt and so do your bruises. You might seduce him into taking your horns away again. You nod, handing yourself over. Aemond deeply exhales, sensing your surrender and he grins as his pupil slightly widens, and briefly dark shadows dance around his fingertips.

‘’Lay on the bed.’’ He says. You raise a brow, but obey, skeptical. ‘’And get rid of the robe.’’ You do what he asks. Aemond joins you on the bed, having used his dark powers to appear right next to you, startling you. He looks at your burned fingertips, softly brushing them with his own. He begins to softly kiss your fingertips. You watch, as your skin heals right before your eyes. He is truly powerful, healing burned ruined skin with his own well mouth.

Aemond sadly only appears to use his powers for bad things. But this proves he can do great things. He could heal wounds and cure the sick. If only he wanted.

Aemond moves on to your legs, which he also injured when taking you. Scratches and bruises and even small cuts are healed when he kisses your legs, softly caressing your legs. You are trying your best to remain stubbornly in a stiff position, but Aemond simply flips you over, reaching your belly and kissing your neck, healing the sensitive skin where your horns and necklace crawled inside of. You try to suppress a moan and a curse as he begins to suck there too, making the pain go away briefly and replace it with an addictive sharp and powerful delicious feeling. ‘’Inflicting the pain can be fun, but so can be the aftercare.’’ You hear him whisper in your ear, as his fingers softly tap against your legs. ‘’I want you to understand that if we are to lay together more oftenly, this too will happen more often. I don’t want you walking around my castle with burns and scars. Not when I can so easily take your pain away.’’

You allow him to kiss and heal you, wondering how the same lips that did you so much pain now bring you pleasure and healing. ‘’I thought you liked it when I wore the scars?’’ You refer to the bones sticking out of your body. The horns and the necklace.

He pauses, caught off guard. His voice is a rough but quiet groan. ‘’No. I don’t.’’

He moves on to your belly, kissing your stomach lovingly as he takes in your breasts likely already picturing himself closer to you. But before he even touches your breasts, he kisses your forehead, healing the sensitive skin, staring in your eyes.

He then leans over your chest and begins.

He cools the burned flesh when softly sucking on your tit, causing you to feel conflicting emotions. He grins as you begin to turn your head away to avoid looking into his eyes or seeing your breast into his mouth. “Do you like your handmaiden? Is she kind and does she address you properly?” Ann is perfect. But why did he get you a handmaiden? Is she to assist and help you look pretty or is she just a way for Aemond to watch and control you?

You don't like the way he said it properly. He scared poor Ann into doing his bidding and now she won't ever stop calling you ‘’My Queen’’. As if you are somehow above her. Ann is so far a better human than you would ever be. She's kind and selfless. Brave too.

“I can wash myself.” You inform him with a slight push against his chest.

Aemond captures your wrists, holding your hand tight but soft. “A Queen should have servants. Handmaidens are more than that. You will build a life here, Petal. I want you to have female trusted friends. Having only me is not healthy.”

He wants you to have friends. You are first, shocked. He does not seem like the type to have any friends himself, so why should he care that you are friendless? Then you are enraged. Because if he had not kidnapped you you would actually be around people who are your friends: Daemon and Rhaenyra. And the way how he treated you, there is nothing healthy about that.

You wait until he is done healing you. “Now you care about what's healthy? Do you remember the bench you fucked me sore and bloody on? Do you remember how scared I was in the throne room and disoriented and all you did was chain me and leave me to go Gods knows where? And when you left last night when you had-” You feel sadness stir.

Aemond doesn't laugh or deny your accusations. He seems sorrowful and full of regret. “I partly regret it. The garden was too harsh. I regret hurting you. I don’t regret making love to you. I don't regret making you lose control and having you finish. I don't regret hearing you cry in my ear how badly you wanted me. I don't regret kidnapping you either. I don't regret it now, nor ever. As for leaving you, I was merely Making the final preparations. I didn't want you to arrive in an unsuited room.” He huffs.

You feel guilt washing over you. You don't deserve any of this luxury. You don't deserve it at all. He is softly circling your skin, distraught as he finally manages to gather his courage. His voice is a strained whisper. “Would you rather I had stayed, Petal? After our …intimacy? Would that have …caused less hurt?” You don't think so. He takes your hands into his own. “When we marry, you can move into my rooms or have your own rooms. I don't mind, truly. Whatever makes you feel at home the most.” You know that is a generous offer not many Queens are gifted by their kings. you wonder if it's sincere.

He continues, nervously scratching his nails against his scalp. “I do wish to see you at least once a day, to know you are well and cared for. Once a week, I hope you'll grant me the privilege to take you somewhere fun.”

“What is your idea of fun, an execution?” You remark.

“Sometimes.’’ He blurts out, unaware. You see him tense up and quickly try to defend himself. ‘’ I mean, no! Mayhaps a romantic dinner by candlelight or spending time in the library. I have a beautiful collection. You like to read don't you?” He knows so much about you. You read years ago for the last time.

“You know so much.” You remark, suspicious.

He continues to heal you with his mouth, and his fingertips, touching burned, bruised and injured areas of your body. He does so in silence. When he speaks, your faces are close and he is touching your lips. His voice is a whisper. “I had to. For your own safety. Darker forces than myself are conspiring. I can't risk you falling into the wrong hands.”

You laugh, ignoring his warnings, thinking it is just propaganda or lies.

“You make me sound like a weapon.” You say with a push against his chest.

He grabs your hands again, this time pressing them to his own chest. His voice is so serious, so solid and unmoving that it makes you gulp. “Not a weapon. A solution. An answer. Hope.” He declares.

Confusing emotions fight inside of you. You never had been anyone’s hope or answer. Or a solution. “For who?” You wonder.

Aemond’s lips carefully bend into a smile. ‘’Me.’’

Book Aemond if he was real and could read what I made him do:

He'd be so freaking disappointed-

Thank yall.

For either being here now, for 2 years or just recently, thank you for reading my stories i love you the way Snow falls loves his little fox, the way that GodAemond loves his Petal and the way ...wait those are terrible examples because theyre really unhealthyly obessed with those girls...uhm..

OH! I love you all the way Viserys loves Balerion:) thats a healthy thing right. IDK I never read the books.

THANK YOUUU FOR READDDDING

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rascalentertainments · 19 days ago

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The Wedding of Boost the Badger 🦡💒👮🏿‍♀

I spent too much time on a ship from an alternate dimension of a superhero world I made, but I love it still.

All characters are inspired by Sonic the Hedgehog and various video games, but they are completely original!

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Boost the Badger had been through nearly every kind of danger you could imagine:

Nearly fed to ravenous piranhas while being suspended from the ceiling. Escaping the primal eyes of a world class hunter bent on claiming his head as the ultimate prize. Saving a city from a robotic invasion from Professor Benedict. Even going up against a mecha version of himself created by the mad doctor.

However, none of that even comes close to his greatest challenge yet: His own wedding.

To say Boost had cold feet was understatement. He was the fastest badger in his dimension, but when it came time for the ceremony, his paws were shaking.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Instead of his usual blazing red racing jacket, he on a sharp black tuxedo top, with a black tie and silver cufflinks. Boost looked a bit strange even to himself. His friend Boxer the Bear had mentioned it was rare for the badger to dress up.

"Come on, you can do this." He told his reflection.

But this was something he had to do. He loved Janet for years and proposing to her wasn't exactly done in a normal way. They had a bit of rocky, and pretty hilarious first meeting.

Janet was going the wrong way as she was sent on a mission to infiltrate his arch nemesis' base. Boost had happened to be on the same highway as her and just wanted to tease the lost driver. Boost in his usual cocky way, let her know the right way to go. From then on he joined her on the mission in case she needed back up, despite Janet's protests.

Neither of them knew that would be one of many meetings they would have on adventures would bring them closer. Eventually, they wanted to meet up outside of missions and became good friends. As time passed, it developed into something much more.

The badger had dated in the past, it came with being a popular hero in his home city, Blue Sky Zone. They were quick, just like himself. Always moving onto the next thing. However, something about Janet made him want to see her more than once. Perhaps it was her firey personality, or the way she handled her weapon when up against an enemy and refused to back down. Or maybe he liked the way her long, black, curly hair blew in wind during an explosion in background like an action film.

Everyday he wanted to see her, so he always found a way to visit her, or drop in the Protection Force's zone for a team up.

Janet taught him to slow down and appreciate the things around him in the present. And he's been seeing the world in a whole new way ever since. There was so much of the world he was missing, and he didn't want to miss anymore of it. Or see it alone.

After three years of dating, Boost eventually proposed to Janet using one of his famous silver dollars he used for extra power. And he asked her to go to the next level with him. That brings us to today.

Boost smacked himself slightly on the muzzle. It was ridiculous for him to be acting like this. He was Boost the Badger for pete's sake!

His friend Boxer had burst through the door, seemingly reading his mind. "Come on, bro. Janet's gonna be out there soon. You should be the last creature on Earth to get cold feet!" his deep voice boomed through the room.

Boost laughed at the bear. "Yeah, you got me there. I guess I've been nervous about all this. Boy, I'd never thought I'd say that about anything..."

Boxer scoffed as he took a handful of nearby peanuts from a bowl. "You can fight an army of mechanimals in a single afternoon, but this makes you nervous? If Benedict knew this was your weakness, he would've beaten you years ago!" He crushed the peanuts in his large claws, freeing them from their shells. Boxer then shoved them in his mouth, crunching loudly. "You better not keep her waiting, she's the only woman I've seen deal with your antics this long."

"Let's just hope that he doesn't try anything right now. The last thing we need is a wedding crasher with mecha animals." Booster laughed half-heartedly. "Well, gotta run!"

And with that, he zipped out of the room, leaving a gust of wind blowing in the room. Boxer grabbed his cap before it flew out the window. He couldn't help but chuckle at his friend. He was always one to run head first into something, but he never thought it would lead him to marriage of all things. It seems like he had the same outlook on this just like any other adventure. "Heh. Still the same Boost.... Janet better know what she's getting into with this guy."

In her own dressing room, Agent Janet Diamond was having her own nervousness about this day. Not the extent of Boost, but she certainly had jitters. She was excited to finally tie the knot, she just never dreamt it would be him. Out of all the people and all the lands in their video game melting pot world, she fell for the fastest badger alive. It surprised everyone: her team mates, family, and even herself. Considering he came off pretty annoying in the beginning.

Janet could vividly remember their first meeting. She was sent a mission to find out what dangerous chemicals were being used during Professor Benedict's new line of super charged mecha animals. This was largely outside the Protection Force's zone, but the invasion could've spread to their land quickly.

Driving there, Boost appeared almost out of nowhere on the hood of her car. While she was driving it.

He annoyed her at first by teasing her going the wrong way, but he ended up helping her get on the right track. Janet didn't want a partner on this mission, but the badger had no plans on leaving her to her work.

The two of them had worked surprisingly well together, as his quick thinking and speed complimented her battle ready additude and and long distance combat training. Together they had cleared Benidict's tower reached his main lab, but one of his henchmen triggered a trap door into a pool of laval for Janet when the two got separated. As she fell, believing she was going to meet a fiery grave she cursed herself for letting her guard down again.

She believed she could handle it all on her own. After all, her last partner (and boyfriend) left her to defender herself from a chimera laboratory collapsing in on itself. Even though he was fully capable of going back and saving her, he chose to save himself. Janet never trusted another person to be by her side. That is, until Boost had appeared like lightning, jumping into the trap after her and saved Janet's life before it was too late.

When asked why he came back, the badger replied with a grin on his fuzzy muzzle: "Leaving you behind just isn't my style." Right then and there, she fell in love with Boost the Badger.

Janet had admired his sense of justice, even with his slightly cocky attitude. He genuinely cared about the people in his city and protecting them from the robot obsessed villain. She could talk to Booster about anything, as she chatted with him for hours as they shared cheeseburgers. Exchanging stories with each other about their wild adventures prior to meeting each other. Despite him being significantly shorter than her (not that she minded), his charm and wit more than made up for his height. He could also look pretty dashing when he was running at top speed or in battle.

She wanted to see him, no matter the excuse. Even to a point where they called each other nearly everyday, even when they couldn't see each other. Despite her fellow teammates having concerns about their relationship, (which she denied she was even in for a long time) she just ignored them. Even her best friend had asked, "Out of all the people in the world, why did you have to fall for him?"

All Janet could say in response was, "I guess I wanted something new."

After they started dating, Janet grew comfortable with Boost zipping in unexpectedly. In fact, she loved when he dropped in and surprised her. It usually meant he had something exciting for the two of them, whether it was a secret adventure or taking her to a beautiful sight he had seen on his travels and wanted to show her.

She never told him, but she really look forward to the holiday season with Boost. As he grew a fluffier fur coat during the winter, it gave her an excuse to snuggle with him many times for warmth. (Not to mention he looked more rugged when said fur had grown on him)

Janet's thoughts were interrupted by her best friend, Princess Rose. "Janet, darling. Are you listening?" she asked in her light tone.

Janet shook her head to get her focus back. "Oh, sorry, Rose. My mind was somewhere else. What did you say?"

The princess was holding two rose bouquets, one red and one white. "Which color of roses would you like? They both look fabulous to me, but it is your wedding! Or did you want something else? Daisies? Violets? Or are you looking for something less common?" She was brimming with excitement over the whole event. Rose even volunteered to be the wedding planner and organize nearly everything from the venue, to the music and even wedding cake flavors. She even paid for everything with her family's fortune!

Janet was greatful for everything she had done, but there were times where she could be a bit...much. 😅

"The red ones are perfectly fine, Rose." She looked back the mirror at herself. "I guess I just feel a bit weird in this whole outfit. Heck, this whole wedding feels surreal."

Janet rarely wore different outfits. If it wasn't for an undercover mission, or when she went somewhere special with Boost, it was usually the same old uniform she has during missions. Being in a dress-a wedding dress-felt strange to her.

Princess Rose gasped. "Please don't tell me you're having second thoughts about this. I've spent five months preparing everything and it would be devastating if you chose to leave!" She said in a dramatic flare

Janet couldn't tell if she was over-reacting or being serious, it was hard to tell most of the time with her.

"No, no! Of course not! I still want to marry Boost. I just can't help but wonder what will happen to us after the wedding." Janet walked over to the window and looked outside. The 8-bit birds were flying high and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was a bit odd to feel this much safety since most of her life has been one action filled mission after the other.

"I mean, are we going to feel the same as we are now? Will we be around each other too long and start to get on each others' nerves? What if I can't protect him like he does with me?" Before meeting Boost, she wasn't much of a talker. Now she felt comfortable after countless hours talking to the speedy creature.

Rose laughed. "Oh darling! There's nothing to worry about! You can be quite determined when you want to be. While I still don't understand what you see in that badger, he makes you happy, and that's what matters. You should trust that you two will be even happier than when you first met!" She twirled around making her violet dress glide slightly up.

Janet shook her head. How did she get such crazy yet loveable friends like her? "Well, I appreciate that at least you've come around to the idea of us."

Rose put a finger to her chin as she joined Janet by the window, looking down at the gathered crowd. More specifically Boost. "Though I must admit that he his quite handsome. Those eyes of his shine like onyx gems. And that coat of fur is- "

"All right, all right. I get your point, Rose. Thank you." Janet replied with an annoyed tone. Those compliments sounded a bit too nice for her taste.

But she quickly waved it off. Janet could be stubborn sometimes, and had doubts at times about how a plan should go. But one thing was certain: She loved Boost with all her heart. Even if she couldn't say it out loud sometimes.

"Come on, I've got a wedding to get to." Janet smiled at her friend. As she headed for the door.

Suddenly, there was a large creaking sound that tore through the room, along with the floor shaking and rumbling.

The roof tore open and an army of robots dropped in and surrounded the two women, barring their mechanical claws and fangs at them.

Meanwhile outside, Boost was waiting with the rest of large cast of friends and family. Both the Bride and Groom's families were very concerned about their blooming relationship a few years back. While some still objected to it, the rest of both sides gave in protesting. However, Boost's family was a lot more open to Janet as time went on.

The speedster badger was beginning to tap his foot so quickly, his shoe looked like a blur. It was obvious that he was getting more nervous.

His younger friend Glide the Squirrel stepped on his foot to get him to stop. "Can't you stay still for more than a few seconds? I thought you were cooler than that!"

Boost grabbed his foot and made sure nothing was broken. "Yeah, yeah. I got the lecture from Box already. Look, even heroes get nervous you know. I just hope she hasn't changed her mind..."

Glide looked around and noticed that Janet and Princess Rose we're the only ones missing from the wedding. He was pretty good seeing from long distances both on land and air, but he didn't the two women anywhere. "Now that you mention it. She's taking longer than I thought. I wonder what's the hold up?"

Suddenly a dark shadow was cast over the wedding, followed by loud rumbling. Everyone looked up and saw a giant metal ship floating slowly descending from the clouds that seemingly only appeared when the ship arrived. It oddly looked like a breakfast sandwich, but despite its funny design, there was terror waiting inside.

"Aw, crap. Don't tell me he's here. Not now!" Boost growled. He knew all to well who this ship belonged too.

At the bottom of the breakfast themed ship, a much smaller egg shaped hovercraft descended from it. As it slowly got closer into view, the shell cracked open and a large rotund man with a bushy mustache burst from the shell. He had a wicked grin as he finished his dramatic entrance with a bow.

"Professor Benedict..." Boost snarled as he grit his teeth.

"HAHAHAHA! Congratulations on your wedding, my badger friend!" Professor Benedict announced with his southern accent. "But I must say I'm deeply hurt y'all didn't invite me!" he pulled out a handkerchief and pretended to wipe a tear away.

"Why would I ever invite you to my wedding?" Booster shouted at the man, clenching his fists and took a fighting stance.

"Cause I bring the most explosive gifts to every event!" The professor snapped his fingers and multiple colored packages with the words "Just Married" written on them fell from his ship.

Gilde recognized what those gifts really were. "Everyone, take cover!" He yelled as he flew a nearby kid away from the dropsite.

Everyone scattered away and screamed as the gift went off. Each one made an explosion of destructive confetti as it blew parts if the ground to smithereens.

Boost zig-zagged across the field as he grabbed as many guests as possible and saved them. He was stopped in his tracks by a mecha rooster that had his metallic red eyes set on destroying the badger.

"Oh! And I hope you don't mind that I brought some guests with me. They really wanted to join the fun, so you better have enough food for everyone!" Benedict teased. He looked around and saw that all the guests were indeed heroes and allies from the other zones.

"And knowing this happy event will be your last, I wanted to meet the lucky lady who stole your heart!" He pushed a button and two mecha gorilla jumped down from the nearby castle and slammed to the ground. Each of them held Janet and Princess Rose tightly in their arms. Both of them were struggling to break free.

"JANET!" Boost shouted at as he was his fiance in danger. He dashed above the mecha rooster's head and attempted to reach her, but the robo bird grabbed his leg and threw him against a tree instead.

Benedict laughed once more. "HOHOHO! I sense someone's being protective! Who would've thought you of all people would settle down for married life? You've been getting soft after all!"

Boost struggled to get up, but the mecha rooster grabbed him by his neck and raised him up in the air to keep him from running and having a fighting chance.

Janet saw the scene and reached for a hidden holster on her leg underneath her wedding dress, pulling out her plasma gun. She shot the metal menace in the back. It was a direct hit! The rooster fell, and Boost got his feet to the ground. He immediately dashed across the ground and kicked both of the mecha gorillas in the head, freeing the women from their clutches.

"That was ten times worse than being kidnapped by King Serpent..." Princess Rose gasped as she looked at her bridesmaid outfit which was now covered in oil and dust from the mechanical beasts. "Those animals ruined my dress AND everything I set up?!"

She looked directly at the speedster and shouted. "YOU BETTER KICK HIS BUTT FOR ME, MR. BOOST!"

Boost had no idea of how big Rose's temper got when she was angry, but he agreed. "Can do, Princess! This'll be way past easy!"

He then called over to his bear friend. "Yo, Box! Take the princess to a safe place, I don't think that electrician that usually saves her is coming today."

Box stepped in and kicked up the princess in her arms. "No problem. Then it'll be time to kick some metal butt!"

Rose blushed at the sight of his strength. "Oh my, such brute force!" It was taking quite a bit of her own strength to remember that electrician friend of hers.

After the civilians were further away, Boost, Janet and their friends worked together to beat the mecha army. Meanwhile the professor was eating popcorn and watching the while fight unfold. He was confident his victory was close.

Fur, nuts and bolts flew as everyone fought their hardest. Not to mention the explosions coming from the weapons the mecha animals fired at them.

"Even on our wedding day we have to fight somebody off? I know this might be a bit selfish to say, but I'm glad something else exciting happened today!" Janet shot her plasma gun at several mecha pandas, knocking them over like bowling pins.

"To be fair, I didn't even plan on this. Leave it to this wack job to mess things up as usual!" Boost said as punted a spare kid's ball into the head of a mecha pig.

"Hey, I heard that!" The professor warned them.

"You're not even nervous about any of this at all! Its like just a regular Tuesday to you isn't? Makes you have second thoughts?" Janet questioned as she shot more three more robots.

"Of course I'm nervous!" The badger replied as he kicked a mecha crocodile in the stomach then threw him into another mecha croc, causing them to explode on impact. "I know I seem like the most perfect guy you've ever seen. But I mess things up sometimes, and I just don't want to mess this up with you."

Janet smiled when she heard that, not even looking at the incoming mecha dog coming for her. "You mean that?" She grabbed the dog by the collar as it leaped at her, then threw it into the water fountain. "All this time I thought I was the one thinking too hard about this. I just want us to be together..."

(Talking about their feelings like this was normally reserved for when they were in private, but this was something different.)

Boost punched another robot so hard it actually shut down when it fell. The whole time he looked at his fiance with shining eyes. "Me too...I love you, Janet."

"I love you, Boost..." she whispered back.

They stood in the battlefield and held each others hands. It was as if there wasn't any deadly robots after them. It was only two people in love.

Professor Benedict spit out his popcorn. This wasn't part of the plan! "What? No! You're supposed to be arguing, not being lovey dovey! That's not how marriage works!"

As the professor raved, Boxer took advantage of him being distracted and punched the craft down to the ground. He ended up landing on some the destroyed robots. As the smoke cleared, he saw his entire army was nothing but scrap. Boost and Janet looked ready to give him some payback.

Benedict gulped. "Maybe I could just send you my gift in the mail instead?" He sheepishly grinned.

Boost looked as his fiance. "Wanna do this together?" He asked as he offered his hand to his soon to be wife.

Janet returned his grin and grabbed his hand. "I wouldn't miss this chance for the world."

Together, to two of them brought in a massively powerful kick to Benedict's egg craft and sent him flying back into the sky.

"CURSE YOU, BADGER! AND YOUR NEW WIFE TOO!" He yelled as he took off. His voice echoed as he disappeared into the clouds.

The crowd cheered as they bid the professor good riddance. At least until came crawling back with a new scheme.

But for now, Boost and Janet just wanted to get married already. 😆

"Say, you mind if we go ahead tie the knot now? At least before another crazy villain interrupts today." Janet asked the preacher. She looked a bit tired from the battle, but she still held Boost's hand tightly.

"Hehe, you read my mind! Let's get this going!" The badger winked.

The preacher nodded and looked at his bible, then back at the couple. They pretty much declared their love during the whole fight. "Well, there doesn't seem to be a need for vow exchanges now!" He laughed. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, badger and wife! You may kiss the bride!"

The badger laughed. "You don't have to tell me twice!"

Boost then surprised Janet by quickly scooping her up in his arms and they finally shared in their first kiss as a married couple.

While their friends and family cheered both for the couple and their victory, Professor Benedict was slowly flying away on his egg craft, which was sputtering from being beaten to smithereens. He was coughing up a bit of smoke from the explosions.

"I hate weddings..." He groaned as his mustache twitched in annoyance.

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Author's Notes:

This was requested by @munamarvel14, who loved the idea and storyline I shared about my OC, Boost the Badger. He's the star of a video game series in the SuperZeroes universe, but Boost really exists in another dimension where all his adventures and friends are real. As well as other video game heroes, and they all live in one world together. The wedding story waa something she requested I write to get an idea of Boost and Janet's relationship!

Somehow I ended up writing out this guy more than the main SuperZeroes cast, lol. I guess because I want to write an episode where Boost ends up in the SuperZeroes dimension and teams up with Richie. But I hope its still a fun thing to read.

Also, this relationship is not only inspired by Who Framed Roger Rabbit and Felix and Calhoun from Wreck it Ralph, but also the original idea of Sonic the Hedgehog having a human girlfriend named Madonna. She planned for his very first game, but was later scrapped and we instead got Amy Rose. It was such a crazy idea that I loved so much, I wanted to use it here. Janet Diamond is a shout-out to both the Madonna character and Janet Jackson back in 80's. (At least design wise, still haven't finished it yet)

I love couples that are odd when you first look at them, but once you see their relationship grow and unfold, the two characters really love and respect each other. Its the same case for Boost and Janet here. Yeah, it is weird that they're together and most people in their world think they'll never work, but these two proved them wrong. Boost and Janet absolutely love and adore each other, and they're a battle couple when it comes to going on missions together! (SonAmy inspired there) They find comfort in each other after hard day or their villains cause trouble. So now they get to start a family and have a new adventure together. Leveling up is so much better with someone you love.

Anyway, thanks for reading all this, it was WAY longer than I planned, but I enjoyed writing it! Let me know if you want more of this couple and dimension! Its also on Ao3 if you want to read it there too!

BTW, their ship name is "Speedway"! 😉

(Uh, I dunno who else to tag, so I'll tag the ones who are also doing original works 😆) @thesafireartist @snackara @jojo-ker06 @your-ne1ghbor @iagomorales @kenihewa

Also, @cielos-pintados! Since you wanted to read this story, I'm tagging ya too! (Don't worry, I will respond to your messages soon, just been busy!)

24 notes · View notes

witchezandwonderz · 7 months ago

Text

Threads of Destiny- Part One

Pairing: Æthelstan x reader

Word count: 2.8k

Multipart series: Starts in Season five and will eventually end in Seven Kings Must Die.

I have included a name for the female reader, as I feel that sometimes Y/N does not feel as personable- please feel free to replace this with your name as you read.

Whole story summary: Under the ominous glow of the Blood Moon, Katye flees for her life. Pursued by ruthless hunters, she crosses paths with Æthelstan, a mysterious man with his own burdens. As danger closes in from all sides, they must navigate a treacherous world of betrayal, survival, and unspoken truths. But in a land ruled by blood and ambition, trust could be their greatest weapon—or their undoing.

The Blood Moon hung low over the horizon, casting an eerie red light over the frost-crusted fields. The wind whipped through the trees, howling as it carried with it the sound of pursuit—a relentless noise that seemed to echo with every thudding footstep. The air was sharp, bitter with cold, and it cut through her cloak as though it had a mind of its own.

Her lungs burned, each breath sharp and ragged as she dashed through the tangled undergrowth. Branches clawed at her arms, scraping her skin raw, while her cloak caught on the rough bark of the trees, tearing in jagged lines. Her boots sank with every step, the mud sucking at her heels, weighing her down, but she couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when the men hunting her were so close. Their heavy boots crushed the brittle leaves beneath them, each thud echoing in her mind, a reminder that she wasn’t safe. Not yet.

"Find her!" a deep voice bellowed from behind. It was guttural and cruel, the sound carrying through the dark, twisted trunks of the trees. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She stumbled over a rock, nearly losing her footing but managing to catch herself just in time. Her hand tightened around the satchel at her side. Inside it were the answers, the reason for the chase. It was her only hope—and the reason she couldn’t afford to be caught. Not tonight. Not under this cursed sky, with the Blood Moon hanging heavy over the land.

Ahead, the woods thinned out, and her heart sank as she broke through the trees into a small clearing. A shallow stream wound through the open space, its icy waters reflecting the crimson glow of the moon. Beyond the stream, the forest stretched out again, but there was no cover. No hiding place. She was exposed.

I have no choice, she thought, a desperate edge to her thoughts. She wasn’t sure how much farther she could run, but she knew that if she didn’t cross the stream now, they would see her.

Her breath came faster as she approached the water, the cold air burning her lungs. She glanced over her shoulder. The sounds of pursuit were closer now, the men moving faster. Too fast.

She moved into the stream, the icy water biting through her boots, creeping up her legs as she waded carefully, making sure not to make a sound. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest as the freezing water numbed her skin, but she forced herself to keep going, pushing through the cold and the exhaustion. The satchel in her hand was a lifeline, and she couldn’t afford to lose it.

The wind howled, but she could still hear the heavy thuds of their boots behind her, too close for comfort. Desperation clawed at her chest as she pulled herself out of the water and up onto the opposite bank. Her legs felt like lead, but she forced them to move, drawing the dagger from her belt as she turned to face whatever was coming next.

She had to calm herself. Her pulse raced, and panic threatened to take over, but she couldn’t afford that. Not now. Not when she was so close to the edge.

Suddenly, a shadow shifted in the trees ahead of her. She froze, her heart lurching in her chest. It wasn’t one of the men who had been chasing her—she was sure of it. This figure was different. Leaner. Stronger. Not a Dane. This man was not one of them. He looked around the same age as her, maybe slightly older but not by much.

He stepped into the clearing, his sword gleaming faintly in the moonlight. The moment their eyes locked, she knew—he wasn’t a threat, but he was a stranger. A man with the aura of someone who had seen battle. His gaze was sharp, focused. There was authority in him, something that made her hesitate.

“Who are you?” His voice was low, but commanding.

Her breath hitched. Her hand tightened around the dagger’s hilt, but she didn’t raise it. Not yet.

Without thinking, she moved forward, her hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Shhh. Lower your voice. You’ll get me killed!” she whispered harshly, desperation seeping through the words. The dagger trembled in her grip, the steel cold against her palm.

He looked at her, startled for a moment, before his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Remove your hand from my mouth,” he commanded, his tone sharp.

She hesitated, the urge to trust him battling with years of instincts telling her not to. Reluctantly, she lowered her hand, her eyes never leaving his face. The second she did, he spoke again, softer this time. “Who’s after you?”

She didn’t answer, her instincts screaming at her to remain silent. She couldn’t trust him.

Before either of them could speak again, the silence was shattered by another voice, louder than the first, so much so that it seemed to vibrate in the very air around them. “There she is!”

Two men burst into the clearing, swords drawn, their faces contorted with anger and the promise of violence. She tensed, preparing to fight, but before she could make a move, the stranger with the sword moved.

His blade flashed in the moonlight, the speed and precision of his strikes leaving her breathless. In an instant, the first man fell, a bloodied ruin of a body. The second man hesitated, his confidence faltering at the sight of his fallen comrade.

That hesitation was all she needed. Her dagger flew from her hand, sinking deep into the side of the second man before he could react. He crumpled to the ground, a gurgling sound escaping his throat. The man with the sword assumed that his apparent death would mean this mysterious girl would leave to die, but to his surprise she instead grabbed the dying mans hair, pulled his throat back and leaned in close to his ear and whispered "I hate running" before using her crimson covered dagger to slice his throat.

For a moment, there was only the sound of her labored breathing and the distant howl of the wind, the world reduced to the aftermath of violence. She knelt beside the fallen men, her heart still racing as she checked their bodies. They were both dead.

Sighing, she slumped to the ground, exhausted. She’d been running for too long, and her body was beginning to betray her. Her legs were shaky, her chest heaving, and the cold of the night seemed to seep into her bones.

The man watched her, his sword still in hand, his eyes sharp. “Are you going to tell me who you are now?” he asked, his voice still rough with the aftermath of battle.

She opened her mouth to answer, but for some reason, the words didn’t come. She had the strangest feeling that something was shifting, something in the way he looked at her. She closed her mouth, unsure of what to say.

"What is your name?" she asked, her voice quieter now, her gaze flickering to the blood on his sword.

He chuckled softly, the sound more out of disbelief than amusement. “Æthelstan,” he said, his breath still heavy. He sat down next to her without a second thought, his back against the muddy ground. He didn’t seem to care about the cold or the mess of the fight.

Katye took a moment to truly look at him for the first time. Her fear faltered as she stared at him, noticing details she hadn’t before—the way his face was marked ground in mud, the slight tension in his jaw, the weariness in his eyes. For a moment, she didn’t see a stranger, but a man who had been through the fire, just like her. A warrior. Perhaps a prince. Or a fallen hero. The kind bards would sing about in tales of glory.

But there was something else too. She noticed the lines of worry etched at the corners of his eyes. Perhaps he wasn’t a warrior; he was someone who carried burdens, doubts—things she knew all too well.

She caught herself staring and quickly snapped her gaze back to his sword. What does it matter? she told herself. He could be handsome or hideous, and it wouldn’t change a thing. Trusting him could still mean my death.

"Surely you can tell me your name? I’ve just fought for you," Æthelstan said, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips. She flicked her eyes to him briefly before looking back at his sword. He seemed to sense her unease, and his smirk softened as he lowered the weapon closer to the ground.

"Katye," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Katye," he repeated, his voice carrying a note of something almost... curious. He looked at her again, his eyes lingering, as if trying to piece together the puzzle of who she was. She wasn’t as tall as him—maybe a hand shorter—but there was something in the way she carried herself that made her seem larger than life. Her long black hair, wild and tangled from the chase, caught the faintest breeze, framing her face in shadowed waves. But it was her eyes—those vivid, unrelenting green eyes—that rooted him in place. They gleamed like polished gems under the blood moon’s glow, as dangerous as they were beautiful. He swallowed hard, feeling a strange tightening in his chest, the kind that came not just from beauty but from danger—like standing too close to a roaring fire.

Her frame was strong, her curves accentuated by the way she held herself, poised to fight or flee at a moment’s notice. She was no dainty noblewoman; she looked like a woman forged in hardship, fierce and untamed. And yet, despite the dirt and sweat clinging to her skin, she was captivating. The kind of woman who could bring a man to his knees with nothing but a glance.

"Is there a reason you’re staring at me?" Katye asked, her tone sharp and cold.

Æthelstan’s cheeks flushed, but the mud covering his face made it hard to tell. He shook his head, clearing his throat. “No. I wasn’t.”

Katye gave him a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “Why are you out here?” she asked instead, her gaze locked with his, looking for any signs of hidden motives.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s the Blood Moon. I was hunting, but I heard a man shout. I knew it wasn’t one of my people. Then I saw you.” He seemed to dismiss the whole encounter with a casual gesture, but Katye’s mind was already racing. His answer only raised more questions than it answered, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask them. Not yet.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” Æthelstan asked, his voice softer now, though his eyes still searched her face for any hint of an answer.

Katye hesitated. The question seemed simple, but it was like a weight on her chest. She shook her head, her shoulders sagging slightly. It wasn’t just the cold or the exhaustion. It was the reality of being alone in the world, with no one to turn to, no place to go. It was a painful reminder of all that had been lost.

Æthelstan’s lips twitched, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving them. “Then you may join me.”

Katye blinked, taken aback by the offer. She should have refused. She should have turned him down flat. Trusting a stranger was dangerous. But something in her longed to accept. The idea of safety, even if only temporary, was too appealing.

But she couldn’t. Not yet. “I can’t,” she said, her voice quieter now.

Æthelstan, however, wasn’t easily deterred. “At least come with me and get cleaned up. You’re not in any condition to keep running like this.”

Reluctantly, Katye agreed. She didn’t know if it was the weariness or the strange pull of his presence, but she couldn’t deny that she needed help. And perhaps... he wasn’t the monster she had first thought.

They rose from the cold ground together, the sounds of voices and laughter from ahead growing louder with each step. They were close now. Æthelstan led her to a gathering of people, but as they drew near, Katye’s heart rate quickened. She had no idea who these people were. For all she knew, they could be just as dangerous as the men who had been chasing her.

But there was no turning back now.

As they approached the group, Katye’s eyes scanned the faces around her. She recognised one of the men almost immediately—Uhtred of Bebbanburg.

Shit.

-----

A/N: I have been planning this story for a while, and I plan to write a lot of parts for it.

I would just like to touch on something that I have seen controversy about: In Seven Kings Must Die, I know that Aethelstan is perceived as liking men, of course. As an imaginative viewer and writer, I believe that it is a great thing to be able to write whatever you want for your own story. My view, which you may or may not disagree with, is that yes he likes men, but for all we know he may have had romantic feelings for both men and women. As a writer, I am excited to write this as I believe it is a fun twist on the original story.

Anyway, sorry for my long note haha. If you enjoyed, please like, reblog and comment! And watch out for part two...

Requests are always open:)

Kindest and most magical regards,

Witchezandwonderz x

#the last kingdom #tlk fanfic #tlk fandom #aethelstan #aethelstan x reader #last kingdom #uhtred of bebbanburg #tlk imagine #tlk #tlk rp #the last kingdom fanfic #harry gilby

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purplehairedwonder · 5 months ago

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i wish you would write a fic where, for whatever reason, Law’s been brainwashed/amnesia’d/mind-controlled and has to make his way out of it without having a premade plan in place.

I love that you said this, anon, because this is actually on my list to write already. A little snippet from the WIP:

“If you’re going to kill me, then just do it,” Law spat.

“Kill you?” Doflamingo repeated, putting on a feigned air of surprise. “Why would I kill you when I have you right where I want you, Law? The prodigal son returned and all that.”

“You can chain me to the damn Heart seat, but that won’t make me your Heart,” Law sneered.

“No,” Doflamingo said, seemingly unbothered. His lack of concern about Law’s refusal had alarm bells blaring in the back of Law’s mind. Something was wrong. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

Doflamingo nodded to the guard at the door. The guard bowed and opened the door. A tall man Law didn’t recognize stepped through and made his way across the room toward Doflamingo. He wore a long coat despite Dressrosa’s heat and carried a cane with a handle curved to look like a question mark. The king’s lips pulled back in a smirk as the man stopped at his side.

“Doflamingo,” the man greeted, inclining his head. His voice was low and melodic.

“Enigma.”

Law stiffened, and Doflamingo noticed. “Ah, I believe Law here has heard of you.”

Of course Law had heard of Enigma. He was a renowned hypnotist in the underworld. It was said he could hypnotize a fish into forgetting it could swim. He offered his services to anyone, pirate or Marine, who could pay—and his services were not cheap.

“Trafalgar Law,” Enigma said, turning to Law and eyeing him up and down. Law felt uncomfortably transparent under the man’s piercing gaze. “A member of the Worst Generation with a bounty of 400,000 berries before it was frozen upon becoming a Warlord.” He turned back to Doflamingo. “So, he is the one you brought me here for?”

“That’s right,” Doflamingo said, smirk growing as Law’s eyes widened.

“Very well,” Enigma said. “Let’s begin.”

“No,” Law said, panic rising in his chest as Enigma stepped toward him. He didn’t know exactly what Doflamingo wanted Enigma to do, but whatever it was, it would change him in some foundational way. Despite wielding what some called the ultimate devil fruit, Law’s greatest weapon was his mind. Even when his body had failed him as a child, he’d still had his mind. And Doflamingo, it seemed, intended to take that from him. He looked past the hypnotist to Doflamingo and pleaded, “Just kill me.”

“Fufufu, and lose my Corazon after all these years? I think not.”

Law’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No.”

Enigma reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. He held onto the chain and let the watch drop to hang in midair.

“Keep your eyes on the watch, Trafalgar.”

Law screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t let this happen. Cora-san had given his life so Law could be free; he couldn’t let his sacrifice be for nothing. A sharp pain erupted around his eyes, and Law cried out as strings dug into his eyelids and pulled them open. He thrashed in the Heart throne as his eyes were sewn open and blood dripped down his cheeks in a facsimile of tears.

Doflamingo, who was now standing next to the Heart throne, grabbed Law’s chin and held it firm. He made a shushing sound. “Now, now, none of that. Don’t worry, little bird. It’ll be over soon.”

“No,” Law moaned as he cast his eyes around the room to avoid looking at the hypnotist in front of him. “Please, no.” His breath hitched when he caught sight of Luffy standing in the window on the far side of the room, eyes wide and concern splashed across his features. Next to him, Violet had a hand on his arm, holding him back. For a brief moment, their gazes locked and Law could only think, I’m sorry for bringing you into this.

And then Enigma stepped into his line of vision, and Law couldn’t help but look at the swinging watch in front of him. The moment he caught sight of the watch, his body became heavy and his thoughts turned fuzzy. He slumped in the Heart throne, unable to move anything but his eyes as they followed the moving watch.

“Good,” Enigma said, his melodic voice further lulling Law into a trance. “Can you hear me, Trafalgar?”

“Yes,” Law mumbled.

“Very good. Now, I want you go to back thirteen years…”

Send me an anymous (or not) summary of the fic you wish I would write. (maybe I will write a tidbit)

#Trafalgar Law #Donquixote Doflamingo #Caitlin writes #tw: body horror

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xximpressions · 8 months ago

Text

Hope (Chapter 3)

Kelly Severide x reader

Series Summary: Sometimes, we all need a little hope.

Chapter Summary: Remain calm

Word Count: 1,057

A/N: This has become such a fun piece for me to write, I just had to do another chapter. Enjoy! 💜

Previous | Next

Chicago Fire Masterlist

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“Battalion 25 to main, I need CPD sent to my location now!” Growled out Chief Boden as he kept his eyes on the tense scene in front of him.

As he explained the situation to dispatch, you were trying to remain as calm as you could while standing with your back to your attacker. You weren’t sure when he appeared, but you were certain of the cold touch of metal currently brushing against your neck.

Knowing now was not the time to panic, you kept your hands up and began to talk to the person behind you.

“Hey man, what’s your name?”

There was a moment in which you didn’t think he would reply.

But once he did, you followed up with,

“Ok, and what’s going on here?”

“I had to do it,” was his quick, but cryptic answer. “Fire is the greatest purifier.”

Immediately understanding this person probably wasn’t in their right mind, you made the decision to keep up the conversation since that meant he would keep talking.

And if he kept talking, that meant he was distracted.

This allowed Kelly the time he needed to sneak behind the bulk of one of the firetrucks which placed him about ten feet behind the guy still holding you hostage. Taking one last glance around the bend, Severide confirmed the knife-wielder was still facing the other way and was busy answering your questions.

Leaving the cover the truck provided, the Squad Lieutenant crept as quietly as he could towards you both.

But just as he was about to pounce, the deranged man caught sight of him from the corner of his eye.

Turning swiftly with you still in his arms, your attacker yelled out,

“Stay back!”

As he thrust his blade out in Kelly’s direction as a warning.

But that, thankfully, was all the diversion you needed to act on your own behalf.

Using one hand to keep his weaponed arm extended and away from you, you stomped on the man’s foot and drove your sharp elbow back into his gut, forcing him to double over. Then, with the assistance of a little gravity, you used both hands to roll him over your shoulder and to the ground. Once his back hit the cement, you began twisting his wrist as you authoritatively said,

“Drop it!”

Whether from the pressure of your hands or from the tone of your voice, your command was followed as the knife fell to the ground from your stunned assailants grasp.

It was fortunately at this moment that uniformed officers from CPD showed up and were able to handcuff the subdued man as they got him up and led him to the back of one of their cruisers.

You watched them for a moment before turning to the member of Squad 3 who you only officially met this morning. But now, he wore an expression of shock rather than stoicism.

Still feeling the jitters of your own adrenaline coming down, you let out a laugh of disbelief as you said,

“Talk about a wild first day!”

Shaking his head as if even he couldn’t believe it, Kelly incredulously replied with an impressed smile,

“Yeah, I’ll say! Are you alright?”

Waving away his concerns and your jangled nerves, you responded as casually as you could,

“Oh yeah, not even a scratch!”

To hide your trembling, you followed up by saying,

“Thank you for having my back though. I really appreciate it.”

To your statement of gratitude, Kelly sincerely said,

“Anytime.”

By then, Boden had finished his hurried approach towards you both.

“Are you okay?” Asked the Chief with growing concern.

“I’m completely fine, Uncle Wallace. No harm done.”

With your reassurance, Boden still insisted you get checked out by Gabby just to confirm that you were in fact healthy while he and Severide went back to dealing with the house fire still blazing behind them.

Though not all of the firefighters witnessed the way the hostage situation was resolved, they all had most certainly heard about it by the time the trucks had made it back to the house.

Arriving just in time for lunch, almost everyone was sat at the tables enjoying their individual meals. This excluded Cruz and Otis, of course, as they were reenacting the drama for everyone who had missed it. Otis was in the middle of their retelling as he said with ultimate pride,

“And THEN! She pitches him over her shoulder like he’s a sack of potatoes!”

Joe and Brian mimicked a slower version of their narration—to humorous effect—only for Joe to stand back up and finish by saying to their audience,

“I’m serious! It was like something out of a movie!”

There were a few more chuckles in the room at the excitement on their faces while you wore a bashful smile on yours.

“It was nothing guys.” You humbly try to brush off.

“Like hell it was.”

Came the automatic rebuttal from the man who had witnessed it all first hand.

Looking to Severide with surprise, you caught the look of admiration in his eyes before he asked,

“Where’d you learn how to fight like that?”

Although you were glad today’s stunt seemed to have earned you the respect of the house, your mind kept flashing back to the moment where everything was happening and all you could think about was your instinct and desire to live. Trying not to remember a time in which you had felt similar emotions, you simply replied,

“Oh, there was always a free self-defense class to go to in New York.”

Considering your flippant wave and vague response, Kelly got the distinct impression that this was actually something you did not want to talk about.

Taking the hint for what it was, the Squad Lieutenant decided to switch topics.

“Well, for days like today, we all meet up after shift at this place called Molly’s and grab a drink. Maybe you could stop by tomorrow and get to know everyone a little better?”

He was met with kind and welcoming sounds of encouragement from around the table. So much so, that all you could say was,

“I’d love to go!”

And while you felt the genuine warmth coming from the people that worked so closely with your Uncle, Kelly felt a strange happiness that his simple invitation had been accepted.

Previous | Next

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TAG POLICY: If you wish to be tagged in this story, you will be required to leave a comment for each chapter you are tagged in. A comment is considered to be any kind of feedback you can give about my story (a detail you noticed, a conversation you liked, a scene you enjoyed, etc.). Please do not ask to be tagged if you are unwilling to follow this rule. If you do ask to be tagged, and fail to follow this rule, you will lose access to my story. Please note: Comments that are made up entirely of emojis or key smashes do not count. Leave a thumbs up (👍) in your tag request to let me know you have read and agree to this policy in order to be added.

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#kelly severide x reader #kelly severide fanfic #chicago fire #chicago fire imagine #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide imagine #kelly severide #chiacgo fire imagine #kelly severide x oc

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thegorydamnreaper · 11 months ago

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Darrow vs Lysander - symbolism and favored weapons

Okay this I a bit of analysis that has been turning around in my brain since I finished Light Bringer. There will be major spoilers for all of the books, so read on at your own discretion.

And of course if anyone has points to add please do! This is by no means exhaustive, just a compilation of my main thoughts on the whole thing!

Darrow basically grew up with a weapon in his hand, since he started mining at age thirteen. It becomes part of his identity, an extension of himself. It’s also a symbol of his people, as all Red miners are given one. So as a Red, he already closely identifies with the slingBlade as a weapon, as a cultural symbol, and as a means of protection.

“I wonder what Eo wants of me. Does she want me to take my slingBlade and start a rebellion? I would die. My family would die. She would die, and nothing would make me risk her. She knows that.”

(RR Ch 4)

“This is your slingBlade, son. It will scrape the earth’s veins for you. It will kill pitvipers. Keep it sharp and if you get stuck in the drills, it will save your life for the price of a limb.” So said my uncle.”

(RR part III intro)

Lysander, on the other hand, is trained by his grandmother from childhood to use his mind as his weapon. He is capable of using a razor after spending a decade with Cassius, but his mind was his first weapon. It’s also a callback to the Jackal losing his hand and being mostly unaffected - because all Golds are taught that their mind is their first and greatest weapon.

“He sighs. “I told you. I am something different than you. A hand is a peasant’s tool. A Gold’s tool is his mind. Were you of better breeding, you may have realized this sacrifice means so very little to me”

(RR Ch 41)

“Skipping supper. No wonder you’re a little twig,” Cassius says, pinching my arm. “I daresay you don’t even weigh a hundred ten kilos, my goodman.”

“It’s usable weight,” I protest. “In any matter, I was reading.” He looks at me blankly. “You have your priorities. I have mine, muscly creature. So piss off.”

(IG Ch 8/ Lysander 1)

“My memory is a formidable thing. In many ways it is my grandmother’s great legacy, her teachings preserved in me.”

(IG Ch 8/ Lysander 1)

But the mind isn’t a symbol on its own, there’s no cultural gravitas to it. So to him physical weapons are tools that are an extension of his intellect. In that world view, a gun is the most practical choice of tool. Firearms are the great equalizer - you can be smaller, weaker, less trained than your opponent and there’s still a VERY good chance that you will win any fight.

This leads into another similar understanding that he and Darrow share: their rise must be meteoric. Darrow accomplishes this the hard way, through pain and training and failures. He builds himself as a symbol because he knows that’s the only way to start the chain reaction of bringing Gold down. He is a symbol, and so are his tools. The slingBlade becomes a symbols of liberation when once (as just a razor) it was a tool of the enemy.

Lysander? He cuts corners, because the tools don’t matter only the endgame does. He’s not trying to build something new, or inspire his followers to fight for something they never thought possible. He is fighting to reestablish the status quo as swiftly as he can. He doesn’t need to fight from the ground up to become a symbol - as a Lune, he already is a living breathing symbol of Gold, and that’s enough.

“Dancer would want me to accept the offer. It would guarantee my survival. Guarantee my meteoric rise. I would be inside the halls of the ArchGovernor’s mansion. I would be near the man who killed Eo. Oh, I want to accept. But then I would have to let the Proctors beat me. I’d have to let this little whorefart win and let his father smile and feel pride. I’d have to watch that smug smile spread across his bloodydamn face. Slag that. They’ll feel pain.”

(RR Ch 41)

“He sneers at the gun. “No honor.”

“No time.”

I shoot Alexandar in the head”

(DA Ch 81)

He studies those who came before him, flipping their symbols and methods against them instead of doing anything new. He quotes poems like Roque, uses Darrow’s Morningstar as his flagship, claims to be honorable like Cassius - but it’s hollow because these aren’t his achievements. He doesn’t subvert the paradigm like Darrow does constantly, he just borrows and steals to get his way.

Darrow sees himself as the sword of his people, but he’s more than that because he put in the work to be more. He questions if he’s a good man, but the we see the weight his decisions have on him. But because he built himself up, he has a community that loves him, friends and family that are truly loyal and will check his worst impulses. He is the symbol, but he’s anchored by those he represent. It’s real and has meaning because of all the sacrifices he has had to make.

Lysander can’t even unite the Golds because he is built upon lies. His parents and their deaths, a lie. His grandmother’s teachings, all lies and propaganda. The Golden lies of the Society he so desperately wants to restore. He is built upon lies and hollow promises, of course he collapses into Gold dogma at the first sign of pressure. He has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s sacrificing everything and everyone to prop up this dying system, because that’s where he feels safe. He has no symbols to look up to, no culture to give him strength and community. Anything that could have grounded him is gone (often because of his own actions). Pytha and Cassius were his only family left and he rejected them and their teachings. More than ever before there’s nothing holding him back. He has his mind and it is telling him the only way to be safe is to double down and become the worst of Gold.

#red rising #literary analysis #iron gold #pierce brown #darrow of lykos #darrow au andromedus #Lysander au lune #the jackal #red rising trilogy #mypost #Darrow and Lysander #character foils #narrative foils

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would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend · 1 year ago

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Looking at several previous one, I can already imagine that this one is not going to turn out well, but since it is my favorite I'm going to ask anyway.

How about Skarmory?

Skarmories are fascinating pokémon, but they might not make the greatest house pet unless you are an expert in the species. As I’m sure you understand, this makes it pretty difficult for me to give them a blanket endorsement, hence the C ranking. It’s a complicated one, so let’s get right into it.

For one thing, skarmories are pretty large. At over five feet tall, their space needs are gonna be higher than a lot of owners can handle. This is doubly true considering their aerial lifestyle: skarmories are skilled flyers and would likely become restless if prevented from flying freely. I’d go out on a limb and guess that very, very view readers of this blog have access to an enclosed space large enough to suit a skarmory’s need to take to the air. These pokémon can fly at dumbfounding speeds, topping off somewhere around 190 miles per hour (Ruby). Nothing short of a sports stadium, if that, would suffice. Of course, a trained skarmory could be allowed to explore freely and return home on command, but that would require a level of training that’s gonna really decrease their ease of care. You would also need to keep in mind that flying freely outdoors may present a risk to your skarmory or wild pokémon, depending on where you live. In the Galar Region, for example, skarmories are known to “fight viciously over territory” with corviknights (Sword). On a brighter note, these pokémon aren’t too heavy considering their size thanks to their light, hollow bones, a necessity to their flying capabilities (Gold).

Now, for the friendliness factor: there’s decent indication that skarmories may get along well with humans. Both in the past and today, humans use shed skarmory feathers as blades due to their natural strength and exceptional sharpness (Crystal, Emerald, Sun, Ultra Sun). Around the world, this pokémon is a popular heraldic symbol due to their role as a passive source for human weapons (Shield). While the pokédex makes no note of skarmories offering their feathers willingly to humans at any point, it also doesn’t indicate that collecting these feathers is particularly dangerous for humans, indicating to me at the very least a passive, nonviolent relationship between the species. As an added benefit, if you own a skarmory, you’ll have access to valuable blades year-round, which could be sold to support yourself and your pet.

Skarmories, unfortunately, have additionally habitat needs that increase the difficulty of their care. Wild skarmories, like most bird-like pokémon, make their homes in nests. Skarmory nests are built using bramble bushes, whose sharp thorns help skarmory chicks develop their defensive armor (Silver). Such a nest would be difficult to upkeep, to say the least. Not only would you need to provide your skarmory with sufficiently prickly branches to satisfy their nesting needs, you would need to make sure they have a perfectly dry place to build it (i.e. not anywhere where they may get rained on), since their metal feathers are known to rust very easily (Moon). All this to say: a standard pet bed would not cut it for a skarmory. If you’re planning on adopting one, you’d better look into some good bramble bushes.

I’m sure anyone who reads this could see it a mile away but my goodness are skarmories dangerous! Their razor-sharp feathers are sharper than most artificial blades (Sword), and they make skilled use of them in combat. Moves like Steel Wing, Slash, and even Wing Attack and Fury Attack could easily prove lethal to a human. Considering their speed and agility, a skarmory attack is not something you want to risk. Now, the pokédex doesn’t make any mention of the species being particularly aggressive, but we must always recognize that the risk of an accident are always present. A skarmory is essentially a giant bird of prey made of knives. Like, c’mon.

Unfortunately, this pokémon is not one I can comfortably recommend as a house pet. Skilled flying-type keepers may be able to care for them, but the average pet owner would simply be putting themselves and other people and pokémon in their neighborhood at risk by adopting one.

#pokémon #pokemon #skarmory #pkmn irl #pr-c

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victoria-vd · 7 months ago

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Preliminary Warning

// tw mentions of violence, mentions of death, homicidal ideation

OFFSCREEN POST

Victoria did not care for the winter solstice.

Not only was the stress that it brought insurmountable, but it was also the day of which she had the misfortune of being born. And while the Velascos were not a family of superstition, they were no strangers to weaponizing it when it was most convenient.

Such is the spirit of the holidays. The young heiress let out a small sigh as she cast her eyes across her elegantly-decorated bed. There, on the other side, her best friend sat engrossed in her laptop, tapping away at the keyboard. The setting sun cast orange rays through the windows, cloaking the entire room in a golden glow. Esper’s white hair captured the light of the sun in such a picturesque manner that one might mistake strands of her hair for the finest strings of exquisite, iridescent pearls. Her head was angled in such a manner that it perfectly blocked the sun from Victoria’s view, casting a halo of sunlight around her entire face.

At least Esper’s presence would make it all more tolerable.

“Oh,” Esper suddenly raised her head from her laptop and turned her gaze to the girl beside her, blinding her with light now that her head no longer blocked the setting sun. Victoria squinted but refused to shut her eyes, giving her friend her undivided attention as she continued, “I just remembered, when is your family meant to be arriving?” The girl tilted her head, “I keep hearing mention of them coming, but I haven’t really been told a day?”

Victoria’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. Ah. Right. The greatest source of her ire around this time of the year: her extended family. The solstice celebration had always been a warzone filled with backhanded remarks and underhanded tactics bordering on psychological torture— she had no doubt that her cousins had plenty of new “tricks” prepared for her this year.

She raised her chin to the ceiling in thought. “Come to think of it, I believe the first batch will arrive tomorrow.” The anticipation of her cousins' arrival added to her dread. It was anyone’s guess as to which of her relatives in Unova would arrive first: her Tia Marina or her Tio Adan. But between the two, Tia Marina cared more about punctuality, so it was more likely that she would arrive before Adan and his son. An unfortunate double-edged sword— while Victoria found her Tia Marina and her daughter respectable, her eldest son Sebástian was… a different story. Frankly, he was the one she was the most apprehensive towards out of all of her cousins— unlike the rest, his disdain for Victoria in particular was much more… personal.

It was then that a dark thought occurred to Victoria. A horrid idea lurked in the back of her mind, planting seeds of unease that began to take root to the already present dread in her brain: she would not put it past her cousins to use Esper as a means to get at Victoria. Especially since there was no doubt that Esper would be present at the party. The girl furrowed her brows and drew her lips into a line. The mere thought of this possibility made her feel apprehensive. She didn’t need visions of the future to predict the many ways they could take advantage of the situation.

…A very obvious one instantly came to mind.

The sudden sound of a laptop shutting echoed throughout the room, snapping Victoria back to the present moment as Esper shifted closer to her on the bed. “You alright there, Tori?” she asked, brows furrowed slightly with worry. She looked at her with such fondness that it made the girl feel sick to her stomach. There was so much that she didn’t know— didn’t remember— that Victoria was certain her cousins would be more than happy to inform her of.

Or show her outright.

The last thought made her abruptly sit up and turn to Esper with a sharp breath. “I believe there is something important I should inform you of.” The words tumbled from her mouth with a forced haste that betrayed her growing anxiety.

Esper gave a small reassuring smile, “Then I will listen.”

Victoria shut her eyes and drew in a long, hesitant breath. Of course she would agree to listen so easily. She didn’t know. She didn’t remember. The young heiress doubted she would give her the same doe-eyed stare once she reminded her. Casting a downward glance to her hands, she silently contemplated where to start. Perhaps it was best to provide context before thrusting her into the horrors of the past.

“As you know, over the coming weeks leading up to the solstice, more of my extended family will be staying here at the estate,” Victoria started. “My brother and I have warned you it will not be the most pleasant of reunions for…” she paused for a moment, casting a sideways glance, “various reasons.”

The other girl quietly nodded.

“But…” the young heiress met the eyes of her best friend, “I believe you deserve to know something that occurred on the solstice. Something that I’ve refrained from reminding you of thus far.”

Her friend spoke with an innocent tilt of her head, “If you're comfortable with sharing, then go ahead.”

Unfortunately, Victoria could think of little that would be more uncomfortable to share! But it was better that Esper heard it from her than from one of her cousins.

“Do you recall the date which Diaz mentioned a few months back— December 21st, 2015?” She didn’t wait for a response. “It was my sixth birthday. You were there that day. As was Diaz. And our brothers. And the rest of my family.”

She stared off into the distance as she spoke, recalling the hazy memory of the event in her mind.

Victoria did not care for the winter solstice. Not only was the stress that it brought insurmountable, but it was also the day of which she had the misfortune of being born. It was tradition to celebrate the anniversary of one’s birth, and it seemed there was nothing more that the Velascos loved more than to celebrate with loud, crowded parties with people who hated one another. Such is the spirit of the holidays. But at least Estelle was there every year to make it all more tolerable. But frankly, as Victoria sat on the couch with her head tucked behind her knees, she found that today her patience with Estelle— as well as everyone else— was wearing thin. It was as if everyone simultaneously forgot how to keep their thoughts to themselves and unanimously decided to verbalize every single thing that ran through their mind. She didn’t need to hear the dilemma between whether someone wanted cheese or chocolate. She didn’t need to hear everyone interjecting into one another’s conversations before it was their turn to speak. She didn’t need to hear the contents of all of the gifts everyone brought for her before she even had a chance to open them. The fact that no one seemed to mind the cacophony of overlapping voices made the girl want to tear out her own hair. She could barely hear herself think, let alone process anything that was being said around her. She wanted nothing more than some peace and quiet. But alas, she was trapped in this deafening prison by social obligation. She’s a big girl now, she can suffer in silence for a few more hours. From behind the couch, she briefly heard the concerned voice of her Tio Paz. Was he talking to her? She thought she heard him mention her name. His footsteps approached her. Victoria bit back a grumble. She liked her Tio Paz— he was a nice man— but if she had to talk to anyone she might just explode. She heard him ask her… something. There were definitely words coming out of his mouth. She buried her head further into her knees, feeling a simmering rage bubbling in her veins. He was only adding to the noise. Did he call her name again? It sounded like her name. He sounded closer than before. Oh, he might have said Estelle’s name as well. Victoria forgot that she was sitting next to her. Did she say something back? Her Father’s brother said something to her again. Victoria really wished he would leave her alone and stop talking to her. Her hands clutched at her hair. She wished everyone would just leave her alone and stopped talking. Please stop talking. A hand suddenly landed on her shoulder. With a sudden fury, she whirled around and—

“—And I killed him,” Victoria finished, crossing her arms and raising her chin. “In front of everyone.”

“Oh…” Esper blinked, “I—”

“The unfortunate result of a young psychic discovering herself at a party full of people and having an outburst.”

“Mhm…” The other girl nodded slowly. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she continued, “I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me this.”

Victoria tapped her finger against her arm and waited for her to say something— anything else. For Esper to back away, to grimace, to show some sort of caution around her. But there was nothing— not a word nor a thought in her mind that acknowledged the gravity of what she had just told her. “Is… that all you have to say?”

“I’m… not really sure how else to respond?” Esper sheepishly smiled, the strand of hair unfurling as she moved to rub the back of her neck, “I don’t think there’s much for me to say, honestly.”

The heiress looked her up and down. “I believe most people would typically have a bigger reaction to being told that they witnessed their friend kill a man with their mind in front of them.”

Her friend shrugged, “I mean— What response could I give that you haven’t heard a million times before? ‘Oh, that must’ve been hard on you’ or ‘I’m sorry that happened to you’. Like… How am I ‘meant’ to respond?”

Victoria raised an eyebrow at her, baffled. “With… apprehension? Discomfort? Hesitation? Fear?” How was this a question that needed to be asked? The typical response to being informed that someone close to you had taken an innocent man’s life was an immediate— usually negative— reaction. At this point, she’d be less bewildered if Esper jumped for joy rather than have no reaction whatsoever.

“If you want fear, I could grab my cane and run for the hills if it’d make ya’ feel better,” Esper playfully bumped shoulders with her. “I wouldn’t get very far but I can try.”

Oh. So she wasn’t taking this seriously. Was that it? “I do not believe you are in a position to joke about the matter, Esp,” the young heiress narrowed her eyes. “I could have easily killed you and everyone else in the room that day.”

The other girl’s brows furrowed in confusion, “But that didn’t happen. I can understand what you may be feeling but don’t you always say ‘What’s done is done’?”

She just wasn’t getting it, was she?

“I want to kill someone again, Esper,” Victoria stated coldly. “Purposefully.”

That night— the very instant before her Tio Paz died— was the only time she’d ever been able to truly let herself loose. Every moment from then on she had restrained herself to prevent a potential catastrophe of cataclysmic proportions. No matter how much she trained, no matter how many boulders she threw at herself for the purpose of pulverizing them into dust with her mind, nothing quite satiated that curiosity— the temptation…

Esper sat there in silence for a moment. She seemed as though she was thinking over her friend’s words, mulling them over in her mind before nodding. “That makes sense, I think a lot of people would feel the same if they were in your position.” The girl tilted her head as she continued, “You want to know how you’d feel if you did it on purpose, is that it?”

“It would be so easy,” Victoria looked down at her hands. She wouldn’t even have to snap her fingers to do it. No one would really be able to stop her from subjecting someone to the most violent and horrific death imaginable. And in the unlikely event that she were ever caught, unless the investigation knew she was psychic, odds are that there would not be enough evidence to convict her of homicide.

“It would be, ya.” Esper spoke, her voice soft as she reached over and rested her hand atop Victoria’s, “Thank you for telling me, and if you ever want to talk about it I’m always available.”

Oh.

She slowly glanced down at the hand atop of hers, then back to her friend.

“Okay.”

Scene End.

[Esper belongs to @espers-n-espurrs]

#offscreen post #miracle eye #starlight tag #solstice sempiternal #tw violence mention #tw death mention #tw homicidal ideation

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happyhuffles · 6 months ago

Text

Cherry Red - 05

The Assignment.

2.6k

Masterlist

_____

"Meet me in my office."

Seems like I was next to get sent away on a job.

Bowed my head respectfully at JYP who glared down at me and Emi who were sitting in our usual spot in the cafe.

"Yes, sir," I said.

As the miserable man walked away I could feel Emi's gaze fixate onto me. She was already worrying but I didn't have time to ease her mind. The last thing we needed was for JYP to see our hesitation.

Hesitation meant emotions and emotions were forbidden here.

I quickly stood up from my seat and followed behind the head contractor. My steps measured and deliberate as we ventured towards his familiar room.

Chris had been gone for a little over a week by now and it hit all of us hard. Keeping our emotions under the raps and acting as emotionless robots became harder with each day that passed. Though, JYP would never catch us slip. We cared for each other so deeply that we knew the threat that came with exposing the weakness we had for each other in our hearts. We were a family, and we would protect that secret to the grave.

If JYP knew he’d see it as weakness—no, worse than that, as defiance. The care we had for each other, the bond we shared, was both our strength and our greatest liability. If he caught even a glimpse of it, he’d use it against us. Love was always the most threatening weapon of them all.

We passed by Changbin on the way. The sweaty man didn't spare us a second glance but I saw his fists clench in restraint out of the corner of my eyes.

Meetings with JYP only meant one thing. The job was important, and when the job is important its dangerous. The head of our company wouldn't bother to brief us for routine assignments. But, he certainly wouldn’t trust a third party to relay the details of high-stakes operations so those required his direct involvement.

When we reached the office door, JYP held it open for me and I slipped inside. My pulse steady despite the knot in my stomach. He closed the door behind me with a soft click, then turned the lock. The metallic snap seemed louder than it should have been, the sound cutting through the thick silence of the room.

His office was clinical and cold, much like the man himself. The walls were bare, save for a large clock that ticked incessantly, marking each second as if to remind me that time was a luxury we couldn’t afford. A black desk sat in the center of the room, polished to a mirror finish. The only personal touch was a single framed photo of JYP with a handshake partner whose face was obscured. It was turned slightly toward his chair, as though the memory was for his eyes only.

“Sit,” he said, motioning to the chair opposite his desk. His tone was clipped, offering no room for argument.

I did as I was told, folding my hands in my lap to keep them still. JYP lowered himself into his seat with practiced precision, his eyes already on me. They were sharp, calculating, and unrelenting, as if peeling away layers to search for cracks in my armor.

He reached into a drawer and retrieved a thin manila file, sliding it onto the desk between us. The sound of it scraping against the wood was deliberate—he wanted me to feel the weight of what was inside, even before I opened it.

“This,” he said, tapping the folder with a single finger, “is your next assignment.”

I swallowed but kept my expression neutral and flipped it open.

Nothing could have prepared me for the faces on the first two pictures inside. King Lee Know and Prince Hyunjin. One of which is the killer of my best friend. The thought of being so close to him sends a rush of excitement through my veins. Killing him just got ten times easier.

As I studied their pictures I remember that the summer and spring fae kingdoms that hadn't been known to have an alliance. Yet, as I scanned the details beneath their faces I suddenly knew different. They were almost brotherly.

"Prince Hyunjin is to be crowned king by the end of the month and we need someone on the inside to know what he is planning," JYP starts. He grabs the photo of the friendly looking high fae out of my hands and points to it. "We suspect that these two are highly involved in the shades ring," he continued, his voice lowering.

He watches me closely as he speaks. His last words sending an ice cold shiver down my spine. The shades ring. My stomach churned as memories of my services and darkened halls clawed their way to the surface. The very slave ring I had once been shackled to as a child, reduced to a pawn in their depraved games.

But I couldn’t let that show. I couldn’t let him see how much it still haunted me. I keep my face neutral pretending that the slave ring I once worked under meant nothing to me.

"We need to know what they are planning and how much they know," he leans forward resting his elbows on the desk and discards the photo back into the file.

He motions for me to move to the next page and I do without hesitation.

LEE FELIX.

The bolded name and face besides it has already been burnt into memory. His photo is one of seven that we have posted on the cafe KOS board. Kill on sight.

I can't deny that like the royal fae, he is a beautiful man. His hair is blonde, probably a shade or two lighter than mine and his features are soft, almost angelic. If I didn’t know better, I might have mistaken him for someone kind, someone innocent. He was anything but that.

"Felix was one of ours before he defected." My gaze shoots up at his words. "His last job with us was to kill the Summer Prince on the same night your club was burnt to the ground," JYP closes his eyes tightly as if in pain by the memory.

"He was our best, yet he defected to the enemy. Now he works to protect slave rings like yours, ones we work so hard to dismantle."

The words hit me hard. I feel the air in my lungs evaporate and my blood run cold.

The file seemed heavier in my lap, its weight pressing down on me like a curse. My chest tightened, anger and horror swirling together in a tempest that threatened to crack my carefully constructed mask.

Felix. A betrayer. A protector of slaver rings. Another person who contributed to Red's pain. The thought made my skin crawl, my fists tightening around the edges of the file.

"He used to work closely with Chris so I hope you understand why I couldn't use him for the job," he says.

I nod my head in agreement. Felix already knows Chris's true alliances but I'm just another nameless face. A human that no one ever saw as a threat.

I turn to the last page of the file and see my placement, term, and reiterated objective.

PLACEMENT: Domestic services, section 1: needlewoman, gardener, cosmetic artist.

TERM: 6-12 months.

JOB: SHADES INFORMATION, SPRING AND SUMMER PLANS.

NAME: Chee Suki

AGE: 21

"Your a human so to them you are weak. Don't let them even question that for a second," his tone is firm.

I glanced up at him, his gaze piercing, unrelenting. The words weren’t advice—they were an order.

“Yes, sir,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm churning inside me.

“Good.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands as he studied me for a long moment. “You’ll be leaving in three days. Use that time wisely. Prepare yourself, and bury whatever weaknesses you think you still have. You won’t get a second chance to succeed.”

As I stood and turned toward the door, JYP’s voice stopped me one last time.

“Suki.”

I paused, glancing over my shoulder.

“Remember who you’re working for. And remember what failure means.”

His tone was ice, cutting straight through the air between us.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, and with that, I left the room, the file still clutched in my hands.

Felix. The royals. The shades ring. I’d infiltrate their world. I’d learn everything they wanted to hide. And when the time came, I’d disappear with enough information to bury them.

I didn't care if it killed me but when my job was done I wouldn't let them see another day.

When I had what I needed they would die by my hand. For Red.

_____

The next day I trained hard but not in the ways I was used too.

No knives, no sparring, no shadowy maneuvers in the dead of night. Instead, I spent the day mastering skills I hadn’t touched since my earliest days of survival.

Sewing, cosmetics, and gardening.

It was going to be a long job that was for sure.

Each stitch, each brushstroke, each careful planting of seeds—it was all tedious and foreign to the part of me honed for combat and espionage. But it was necessary. If I wanted to pass as a domestic worker, my cover had to be flawless.

I started with sewing.

The needle felt nice between my fingers, small and delicate. My hands were used to wielding blades, but happily remembered threading fabric. I hardly even fumbled at first, the thread slipping only once loose, my stitches even. This wasn’t about perfection but I mastered it anyway; it was about convincing them I belonged.

Cosmetics came next.

I sat in front of a mirror with an assortment of powders, brushes, and lip stains spread before me. My reflection stared back, tired and impassive, as I worked. Applying makeup wasn’t about vanity here—it was a tool of deception. The fae valued beauty, and I needed to present myself as unassuming yet competent, just another cog in their gilded machine.

By the time I finished, my reflection was strangely familiar. Softer, with just a hint of color on my lips and cheeks. My eyes looked larger, framed by careful shading. It wasn’t me, but that was the point and it reminded me of my days as Cherry.

Thats why it was familiar. I looked more like her in this moment than I had in the last five years. I fought back a disgusted shudder and closed my eyes tightly.

Thankfully it wasn't my make up that needed to be done, and I doubted the fae would care that a servant went about their day barefaced.

Gardening was the hardest. It was something I had no experience with whatsoever. Having grown up in a concrete prison and liberated to another, my life had always been indoors.

The weight of the soil in my hands, the sharp scent of freshly turned earth—it was grounding, but it also felt alien. Digging and planting required patience, precision, and care, traits I usually reserved for entirely different purposes. By the end of the day, my nails were caked with dirt, and my muscles ached in ways I wasn’t used to.

It was going to be a long job, that much was certain.

As the sun set, I sat back and stared at the small patch of garden I’d cultivated. It was neat, orderly, and unassuming, much like I needed to be. Yet, as I wiped the dirt from my hands, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the task ahead.

This wasn’t just about blending in. It was about surviving.

I stood up and turned to head back inside and noticed Emi staring at me from the exit doors. Slowly I made my way over to her.

As I approached, the corners of her mouth tightened, like she was wrestling with something she wanted to say. Her dark eyes searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

She was the one to break the silence.

"When do you go?" her voice shook revealing a small hint of the sadness she was feeling.

"The morning after tomorrow." I walked past her and continued inside, headed for the elevator.

Inside, the familiar hum of the building greeted me, but it felt hollow tonight. My footsteps echoed as I made my way to the elevator, the file in my hands a reminder of everything waiting for me. The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and I stepped inside, pressing the button for my floor.

The doors began to close, and just before they did, Emi slipped through the glass panel joining me.

"Binnie told me you would get like this before you left," she whispered.

I tried to ignore the guilt that settled in my gut. It was a nasty habit I had started before any assignment. This cold detachment from everything. Completely cutting myself off from my emotions was difficult and could only be done in tandem with coldness towards the ones who cared for me in secret.

I thought it would make it easier to leave. But it never did.

The elevator slowed to a stop, the soft chime breaking the stillness. The doors slid open to my floor, and I stepped out, half-expecting Emi to stay behind. But she followed, her steps matching mine as we walked down the corridor.

“You think it’s easier this way,” she said, her voice steady now. “Pushing us away, pretending you don’t care. But it’s not.”

I stopped in front of my door, turning to face her. “It’s not about what’s easy, Emi. It’s about staying focused. If I let myself feel—”

“You’re afraid it’ll break you, being human. Caring about us.” she interrupted, her gaze locking with mine.

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, I couldn’t respond. Because she wasn’t wrong.

“It won’t,” she said softly. “You’re stronger than that.”

I looked away, the weight of her words pressing against the walls I’d built so carefully. “I can’t afford to be anything else, to care. Not right now.”

By her expression my words had slapped her in the face.

“Goodnight, Emi,” I said, stepping inside.

She didn’t follow. I heard her footsteps retreat down the hall, each one a reminder of the distance I’d forced between us.

I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment before heading to my desk. The file sat heavy in my hands, and as I opened it again, I shoved everything else aside.

Their faces stared back at me—King Lee Know, Prince Hyunjin, and the traitor, Lee Felix. Cold, indifferent flawless expressions captured in photographs that couldn’t hint at the cruelty beneath.

The mission was all that mattered now. It was close to home.

I would be dealing with my past, deceiving the people who kept children tied down to slave rings. People who sold the innocence of others.

I needed to stay focused. They had taken everything from us. From me. And now I was being sent into the very heart of it all. I had to stay focused. Cold.

This was an ultimate chance at revenge. For myself, and for red.

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